#She has a on and off relationship with her kindergarten crush

[javatrait]

Eartha Sloan takes San Myshuno...

[aspirationalpeony]

Dark Horse

Summary: As a cameraperson on the Abbott documentary crew, you've always had a good working relationship with Melissa Schemmenti. One flirtatious night at her home sends you spinning as you try to figure out if this is really real—not to mention how everyone at Abbott seemed to know about Melissa's crush on you, long before you ever did. (See author's note at the end for prompt credit.) Content Warnings: Lots of smut, a bit of emotional confusion, and me having absolutely no idea how filming anything works. I just faked my way through it, very horribly. Oops! :) AO3 Link

It all starts with a late shoot.

It's just you and the mic guy and one other crew, and your camera trained on Melissa Schemmenti. She talks, in a way she's done rarely so far. A season and a half and she's always conscious of the stare of the lenses, quick to dart around a corner or cut herself off if she knows the opps are listening.

She takes big sips, almost gulps, from her wine glass. She leads you back and forth across her house, reaching over tables or pointing along walls to find a photo here, another there, and talks. "Me'n Kristen-Marie... This one—" pause for more wine—"from my college graduation." It's the two of them, almost mirror images of each other at that age, with a tall man whose lean face makes you think he has to be their father; on the other side of the girls is their Nana.

There's no trick in this photo: no wedding dress, no blood, no hint of drama between the sisters at all. They just look hopeful and desperately young. This feels private, that Melissa could have been so young—something that shouldn't be content for the show—and you feel an impulse to duck the camera away, hide her secret. When you look at Melissa again, she’s watching you; there’s a glitter in her green eyes you can’t interpret: not hostile, and not the look she gets when she’s hustling someone, either. The gaze she’s giving you is strangely soft.

“Whaddaya think?” she says, to you, not to the camera.

You swallow. Nothing you say will make it to the final cut, but the editors will hear your answer, so you can’t tell her she’s beautiful in that picture. “I think I’m lucky you’re showing me this,” you say at last.

Her eyes move over your face. You feel it almost like a touch, intimate and slow, and you aren’t making it up: her gaze stops at your mouth and hovers there. She bites her lower lip before she lifts her wine glass again for another pull. “Maybe I like ya,” she says. “Maybe you’ll get luckier.”

You’re still blushing when you wrap for the night. You sit on your couch at home—you’re always insomniac after shooting at night, your brain and body still buzzing with the work—and put on Netflix on low volume and you don’t watch, just feel your cheeks still burning, thinking about her lipstick on her wine glass.

Of course, the whole crew knows the story by the next morning. When you turn up, Pedro, your best friend on the crew, says, “Look at you! Dark horse!” and it makes your face sear with heat all over again. He lowers his voice, leans in and nudges you. “C’mon, nothing in the contract about that. You deserve a little fun. Let your Italian mama take care of you.”

You cringe. “Please,” you say, “never say ‘Italian mama’ to me again. Okay?”

“Just sayin’,” he says, and leaves it alone.

Of course, it doesn’t leave you alone. You’ve learned the best way to sneak up on a conversation with Melissa and Barbara is to come at it around a corner, so you’re hovering down the kindergarten hall, camera on the two women, when you hear your name, making you stiffen.

“You said that?” Barbara’s voice is incredulous, sharp. “What did she say?”

“Nothin’, really,” Melissa says, “she was on the clock, y’know.” The smile starts in her voice before it grows on her face. It’s a Cheshire smirk bigger and deeper than you’ve ever seen. “She got all flustered. It was cute. You think she knows I was shootin’ my shot?”

“I think you could have ‘shot your shot’ with a little more dignity,” Barbara says crisply. “Like an adult does. Politely. Pleasantly.”

“Soberly,” Melissa says. “Listen, if it works, it works. I just gotta find out if it did, y’know. Work. She’s kinda shy.”

“I didn’t know you cared for that.”

"What, the quiet ones?"

You have to pull away. You're going to miss the rest of the conversation, but your face is burning again, your heart is pounding, and you're grappling with the reality that Melissa and Barbara are talking about you, that you're subject enough between them to be chatted about so casually, that all this footage is... God, are you ever going to live this down?

You'll go shoot some Janine and Gregory. That's always a crowd-pleaser; the audience loves the sweet tension between them, the way the space between their bodies turns tangible the longer their eye contact holds. You try not to think about Melissa's gaze on yours last night. You try to do your job.

That goes as well as you might expect. Fifteen minutes into some uninspiring quiz-grading ("oh, I never fail anyone," Janine says, "I just give 'em a different colored star—they like the gold ones best, so—") Pedro comes to find you.

"Hey, listen," he says, "I need you to come take care of your Calabrian chili pepper."

"What?"

"You know, your spicy linguini. Your Italian ma—"

"Stop." Your head whips toward Janine at her desk and then back to Pedro. The only thing you can think of to say, your heart thumping all over again, is "She's Sicilian, not Calabrian."

"She's giving us nothing. You got to come do her talking head. She keeps trying to square up to Kai and he doesn't wanna fight her."

"What makes you think she won't fight me?"

He gives you a look over his glasses.

The change in Melissa is instant when she sees you approach. Those folded arms, her squared shoulders, her broad, foot-planted stance—it all melts. She leans into the wall, her head tipping, one booted foot lifting for her toe to play in idle lines along the floor, and, yeah. Whether you picked her or not, this is your Sicilian chili pepper, and you swallow hard as you approach.

"Heya, hon," she says, "who's this clown they got me workin' with? Don't they know I only do this with the professionals?"

You mumble a little as Kai looks between the two of you, rolls his eyes, and backs off.

"We were talking about her Friday night plans," Pedro says. "It's school game night and she's not going."

"Yeah, the kids are too easy to hustle," she says, "it ain't even fun. What, do I look like I wanna spend all Friday winnin' their, I dunno, their Yu-Gi-Oh cards?"

Now's when Pedro should prompt her, ask a question. You glance at him; he nods his permission. "Not sure those are a thing anymore," you say.

"Their Pokemon cards," she says. "Whatever. Point is, it'd be like taking candy from a... Jacob."

You don't look at her; you focus on the camera. It's easier than holding her green gaze. "Is that where you draw the line?"

"Gotta draw it somewhere," she says.

You can't help it. Cautiously you look up, try to make your voice neutral: "So how are you going to spend Friday night?"

She lolls her head to one side and looks at you. She sticks her tongue into her cheek. "Prob'ly practicing tricks," she says.

"Tricks?"

"Yeah," she says. "With my magic wand."

You don't really remember the rest of the interview. You sure you babble some other questions, and she gives you some smirking answers, but your head is full of white noise and a singular image: Melissa Schemmenti with a vibrator between her legs.

You're sure other things happen that day. Pedro definitely ribs you some more, you and Kai go get lunch and he complains for a while, Gregory and Janine have one of their not-flirting conversations where he draws up a tightly-plotted itinerary for game night, trying to prove it's possible to run a children's event without delays (it all goes back to his father, of course), at some point you go home and numbly resume your post on the couch in front of your TV screen, trying to make sense of it all.

That picture won't leave your head. You think of the look she gave you that night at her house—intimate, caressing—and how she'd look deep in her pleasure, drunk eyes half-open, her face pink, her hair wild. Does she get naked when she touches herself? She seems too impatient—more like a jeans around her thighs kind of woman—but for a night she's planning ahead—a night she's set aside, just for her pleasure...

Your head drops back and you shut your eyes to see her more clearly. You can imagine the scattering of freckles over her shoulders and chest, the shift of her heavy breasts and the hard peaks of her pink nipples—how does she like to be touched there? Maybe she grabs one breast while she uses the vibrator, plays with a nipple, imagining the rough, confident hand of a lover. You can see the soft field of her belly, the abundance of her hips, her thighs, picturing her cunt, the head of the vibrator against her clit—she doesn't tease, can't tease herself, you imagine, not Melissa.

You can almost smell her sex, you think, until you realize it's yourself you're smelling. Your cunt throbs. You could shove a hand into your underwear now and just take care of it, but...

Your small toy collection lives in a box under your bed. It's nothing fancy, but you do have a small wand vibrator. You peel off your trousers and underwear and drop onto your bed, back against the pillows, holding the purple toy in one hand. Does Melissa have one this size? Or a big, classic one, the kind that could buzz your clit right off? You click the toy on and draw it up your thigh. As it nears the sensitive crease between your leg and your sex, your thigh twitches without meaning to, your clit aching, and you think, okay, no foreplay.

You can't help but wonder as you delve the thrumming head between your folds: does she know you're doing this? Was that the idea—plant herself in your head, grow over everything, including your common sense and your inhibitions, until your whole world flowers Melissa? Could she be doing the same—getting a head start on Friday's plans—thinking of you, right now? You're normally quiet when you do this, but that makes you groan aloud. Your clit pulses.

How does she do this, on a school night, like tonight? Back to the image of her with her trousers halfway down her legs, her hand and her toy crammed into the space between the fabric and her body. You can't help but see her in the outfit from today, that green, clinging top, the black blazer discarded somewhere, slacks caught just above her knees, her hair mussed and tangling against the pillows as she works the vibrator over her clit. No playing games for her, either; just getting the job done, hard and fast.

You come, watching her in your head, her name on your lips; you hope she comes tonight, too, thinking of you, of what she’s doing to you.

The next day, Janine, Gregory, and Jacob are in hushed conversation by the supply closet. You pick an angle from just inside the nearest classroom and train your camera on the slight crack of the open door and you can hear them, even though they think they’re being quiet—classic them.

“I don’t know, what do you think?” Janine is saying. “I think it’s kind of nice.”

“I think,” Gregory says, “it’s like…” He pauses, picking his words. “Like watching a dog shake a chew toy.”

“I think it’s very brave of Melissa,” says Jacob, and your heart drops into your stomach. “Considering the historical era in which she grew up and started her teaching career, being openly bisexual in the workplace must be a very—”

“Please don’t let her hear you call her ‘historical’,” Gregory interjects.

“It’s cute she has a crush on the camera lady,” Janine says. (“Cameraperson,” Jacob corrects.) “I just want it to turn out nice. You know, the vending machine guy didn’t work out, so. And now he doesn’t stock Gushers anymore.”

“Maybe she’ll be a little more relaxed,” Jacob says. “A little more… Open, fun—”

“She’s not going to start liking you because she’s dating somebody.” Gregory, with characteristic bluntness.

“One can hope,” Jacob says.

“The camera lady—person—is so quiet, though,” Janine muses. “Melissa is so intense.”

“Bet that’s what she likes,” Mr. Johnson says, making them all jump. He steps out from the supply closet; he’s holding a Teachers Without Borders coffee mug you know has to be Jacob’s. He takes a long, slurping sip, making sure everybody sees the logo on the cup. “Melissa gets a sweet little thang to take care of. Camera lady gets an Italian mama.” He says it eye-talian. (Where is everybody getting this phrase from?)

“Please don’t say ‘Italian mama’ again,” Gregory says, giving you a little flush of vindication.

“Why not?” Mr. Johnson says. “When I was on tour in Rome—”

That’s enough for you. You decide the rest of the conversation can go unrecorded. You check the time and it’s nearly lunch—thank God, because you don’t want to make eye contact with any of them for a while; you don’t know how to feel about them all talking about you. You know it’s not you, really, they care about. It’s Melissa, her caginess at odds with how boldly, openly she’s been flirting with you, an attraction so obvious even the younger teachers that she’d never confide in can see it.

Something light and effervescent swirls in your stomach, but there’s a leaden weight there, too. Nerves. And desire. You let Pedro know you’re taking lunch and leave your camera behind, finding Kai a block down, away from the school, hitting his vape. He passes it to you and you take a pull, letting candy-scented vapor out of your nose. You don’t really smoke anymore, but anybody would need a little comfort under these circumstances, you think.

“So what are you going to do?” he asks.

“What?” You didn’t know Kai cared about that. “I mean, I guess I’ll talk to her, maybe give her my number, then see—”

“For lunch.”

“Oh.”

You get hoagies together, eating them over a public trash can, standing up. Back at the school you scrub your hands clean in the bathroom and duck Pedro and your camera and you find your way down the second-grade hall to the classroom that's usually the noisiest. It's quiet now: the kids are at the library doing a reading circle with the librarian. Maybe it says something that you know their schedule.

She's in there, glasses low on her nose, working. You pause just on the threshold of the open door. You try to piece together everything you know about her, to make it all fit into the person you see, just a small woman with a love of pleather and a never-ending supply of high-heeled boots, a baseball bat taped under her desk (you've seen it), a guitar propped in one corner of the classroom (does she ever play?), how now she's focused and reading with scrupulous intensity, doubling back on a sentence from time to time, her manicured hand coming up to twitch away a lock of red hair.

You knock on the open door. You see her hand pass under the desk toward the bat before she realizes who's standing there. She cracks a grin, lifting her glasses up to the top of her head. Her eyes travel up and down your body in another look that feels like a touch.

"I was wonderin' when you'd stop by," she says.

You give a little hum. You cross the room to lean against a student's desk, just opposite hers.

"No camera?"

"No," you say, "I wanted it to be just us."

"Huh." She taps her pen on her paper a few times. "You here to let me down easy?" She lifts her chin. The look she gives you isn't intimate now: it's far-removed and challenging, like the gaze of a duelist across a plain. You've seen this before, the way she starts closing herself off, armoring up.

You shake your head. There's a shift in her expression, but the walls don't quite come down. "I guess I wanted to ask what you want."

"That ain't obvious?"

"I mean..." Your arms come up, folding over your chest. "You know, I was here last season, when you were dating that guy... Hulk Hogan."

It surprises a laugh out of her. "Yeah, Gary."

"You asked him out and it was... Different. I mean..." You can't think of how to say it. At last, you say, "Do you take me seriously?" No, that's not it. "I mean, are you just trying to hook up with me? Because, I..." You're starting to burn up again. You rub the back of your neck. "That's not the kind of... Listen, you're beautiful, and sexy, but that's not what it would—I mean, to me, it—"

"You're so cute when you're all shy," Melissa says, sounding equally mystified and amused. She stands. "Look... Maybe I did this all wrong." She circles the desk. "Kinda treated you like a piece of meat."

"Just a little bit," you say.

"I take you serious, hon." She doesn't cross the gap between you two, but mirrors your pose, leaning on the edge of her desk, arms crossed over her chest. "Look, Gare was a nice guy. But he didn't have, you know... He didn't make me wanna..."

You think of Gregory's metaphor. "Shake him like a chew toy?"

Another laugh. "Yeah, that. And I guess I felt... You know, I'd kinda uncorked the bottle, datin' him, when I thought all that part of my life was done, and when you were at my place the other night, you just looked so good, and I just wanted..."

You smile, eyes down. The cold uncertainty is trickling away and there's warmth pouring into the spaces it's left behind. "Okay," you say.

"Okay?"

When you look up, she's moved a little closer. You can smell her perfume again, warmed on her skin over the course of a long day. You've had the privilege of seeing her in detail, so many times: the fine, thin skin around her eyes, the creases at the corners of her mouth that forecast her smile, the tiny hint of gray growing in at her temples, the mellow warmth of her green gaze, the slope of her nose crooking slightly to her left. It's different with no lens between the two of you, when you're close enough to touch.

"Yeah, okay," she says to whatever she sees in your eyes. She lifts her chin and drops her gaze to your mouth. It's a clear request.

You answer it. You dip your head; there's a moment where your noses nearly bump, but you change your angle, catch her lips with yours. There's a tackiness from her lip gloss and an incredible softness underneath. The warmth of her almost shocks you, vivid past your imagining. Her hand pets at your jaw; you feel the other curl into the collar of your shirt. She pulls you closer by the fabric and you gasp.

You renew the kiss, lips sliding over hers. Your hand rubs down her lower back. You can feel the divot in her spine where it meets her pelvis, just above the generous curve of her ass. Before you can overthink it, your palm is gliding over that curve, your fingers digging into its lushness, Melissa gasping against your mouth as you squeeze.

"Oh," she says faintly when the kiss is over and you're catching your breath. "Huh." Her look is glazed and a little bewildered.

"I, um, I don't want to send mixed messages," you say, "but about Friday..."

"Friday?" she echoes.

"Yeah." You bite down on your smile, watching her try to remember what the hell you're talking about. "I was thinking... I know a few magic tricks of my own."

"Oh," she says again. You watch her eyes spark with understanding, her smile appear slowly, then all at once. "I guess you could come over and show me your stuff." Her hands tighten in your shirt and pull you back in for another kiss.

"Hey, gimme your phone," she says, much, much later, when you're wearing more of her lip gloss than she is. "I want to give ya my number." You don't think before you're unlocking it and passing it into her hands. She lowers her glasses from the top of her head to the bridge of her nose and thumbs her way around your phone, creating a contact for herself.

You have a flash of nerves—what if she opens your Instagram and sees all the stupid accounts you follow? A vision comes of her seeing all the dog-using-buttons-to-talk videos you've liked, her libido instantly withering... Then she's giving you back your phone and smirking at you, wiping at your lip with her thumb. "Might wanna stop in the bathroom before you get back to work, hon," she says.

When you leave her classroom, it's like floating; you've never felt so light. You stop in the bathroom and you wipe all the lip gloss off your smiling mouth. You catch yourself humming as you and Kai catch some footage of Ava pretending to organize game night, Gregory trying to involve himself, Janine admitting to a little competitive streak.

Your phone buzzes, chimes. "Sorry," you say to Janine and Pedro, who's leading the interview. You wait until you can lower the camera lens to check the notification. You always keep it silenced during the day—did Melissa turn the ringer on?

Italian Mama iMessage

Your face burns. You take a corner away from Pedro and unlock the phone.

Italian Mama You made me real happy

Your blush intensifies; something flutters in your chest. The phone vibrates in your hand as another message comes.

Italian Mama Don't know how I'm going to wait until Friday

The echo of your own thought in her words makes your heart flutter again. You bite your lower lip and type back, Me neither. An electric spark of daring moves you, makes you send her, Maybe I'll practice some magic just to make sure I'm on top of my game.

Is that too much? You hope not. You've basically made a sex appointment with her for Friday—sex appointment, you think, and wince at yourself, your own awkwardness; it's a date—and you don't—your breath hitches as three dots appear on your screen, showing that she's typing.

Italian Mama Oh yeah?

Italian Mama Better practice hard

You feel a pulse low in your belly. You're ready to type a little more flirtation when another message arrives and makes you gasp aloud, quickly clamping your hand over your mouth before Pedro or somebody else can hear you.

She's sent you a photo. It's herself pulling down the scoop neck of the hot pink blouse she's wearing today. You can see just the tip of her nose, her chin, the proud line of her soft neck, her freckled sternum, and, holy shit. She's showing you her breasts cradled in a bra made of black lace. And you stare. And you stare.

Italian Mama Little incentive for you

Your mouth is watering. You can see the rosy shadows of her nipples against the lace. You barely register yourself typing back, You're perfect.

Italian Mama Thought you'd like em

You're typing before you can stop yourself. All I'll be able to think about now is what I'm going to do to you.

Three dots appear, then disappear. Appear, then disappear. Your confidence wavers.

Italian Mama I want you to tell me

You've never imagined you'd be turned on in the halls of Abbott Elementary, but suddenly you're so aware of your cunt, you can't stand it. You're throbbing. You peer around the corner; Pedro isn't even looking your way, he's talking something over about the schedule with another producer. You have time. You glance up and down the hall; nobody except an aide going into a room at the far end.

Your fingers fly over the keys. If you stop to think, you'll psych yourself out, so you blurt out every thought, the iMessage equivalent of babbling—what you'd be doing in Melissa's ear if you could have her right now, in your arms, again...

You're so fucking sexy

I've thought about you so much

I touched myself thinking about you the other night

I'm going to kiss you until you go crazy and you're so turned on you can't take it

I'm going to undress you and I'm going to kiss every fucking inch of you

I'm going to play with you until you're begging

Do you like it rough or gentle?

Three dots.

Italian Mama Little of both

You're typing again in a flurry. You can feel your heart pounding, your breath coming in harder. You probably only have a couple minutes left to really make her feel it.

I'm going to be so gentle with you until you beg me to be rough

I want to bite you

Do you like being bitten?

Italian Mama Yeah

I know you do

On your neck, on your breasts

I'm going to bite your thighs before I eat you out

"Homie, you coming?" Pedro says, with the best and worst timing—and phrasing—he could possibly have.

"Yeah, one sec," you say, and you're proud of how your voice doesn't wobble at all. "Let me just send this. Sorry."

I have to get back to work

Italian Mama Fuck you

Italian Mama How am I supposed to teach like this

Italian Mama Come here and finish what you fuckin started

You laugh, breathless and surprised. You text her, YOU started it! If she hadn't sent you that picture... You scroll back up and look again. In the bit of her face you can see, she's smirking, because of course she is. The luscious curve of her breasts—you can almost feel them, what it would be like to drag your nose down between them, mouth at the soft skin...

Pedro's waiting. You send her a bunch of blowing-kiss emojis and put your phone away again. You're still buzzing with arousal, but you feel a strange satisfaction, knowing that Melissa is a few halls away, squirming behind her desk, thinking about all the promises you've made.

The day passes, somehow. It's a strange mixture of slow, syrupy boredom and electric, frenetic activity as more preparations are made for game night, and your phone periodically buzzes with another message from Melissa. Thankfully (for your pussy—you think it might fall off if it keeps aching like that), the two of you leave the subject of sex, and just talk.

She asks you your birthday, your favorite food. Where did you grow up? What's your favorite color? Each one makes you smile. You feel like you're on the receiving end of a Schemmenti interrogation, a mob boss with her goons behind her. You get her answers back in turn: July 19. (You respond in shock, You're a water sign??? and you can almost hear her voice when she dryly responds, I got no clue what that means, hon.) Pasta con sarde. Grew up here in South. Pink.

Your heart flutters with every new thing you learn. Even though you go home (and rub one out) alone, she's a presence with you, not just in your fantasies; you find you're texting her until you fall asleep, phone sliding out of your hand onto the bedspread. And when you wake up the next day, preceding your alarm by a bit, you find a text from her waiting for you, just a few minutes ago: Good morning, baby.

You levitate all the way through Thursday. You spot Melissa a few times that day, but it's a packed day for her two classes, so mostly it's in the hall as she marches lines of students to and fro. She gets you back for yesterday, though: pauses in the doorway of her classroom as she's filing the kids in after lunch, and gives you an up-and-down look of such searing intensity that your body heats, scalp to toes. She smirks before she vanishes into her room.

She makes you crazy. God, she's incredible. You're texting her every chance you both can get, though she's sparser while she's with the kids; it's all light stuff. Get lunch here today, she tells you, Shanae made beef patties, and when Shanae slips you a couple of golden-crusted pastries, you bite into them, smelling warm, floral curry, savory beef on your tongue, and think of how Melissa it is, feeding you from a distance.

That afternoon, just after dismissal, she calls, "Hey," to you from her classroom door. You try not to jump to attention. "I gotta do a lot of work," she says, playing with the strap of her Apple Watch, "or I'd ask you over, but..." Strangely, her eyes drop. It's a hint of shyness and it makes your heart patter, tenderness and affection for her pouring into your chest. "I was thinkin', why don't we go out and get, like, food or a drink or somethin' tomorrow? You know, before you come over."

"Okay," you say. Her eyes flick up and as soon as she sees your goofy grin, her shyness melts away, turns back into the smirking self-assuredness you're more familiar with.

"You pick the place," she says, knocking the wind out of you at once.

Oh, crap. You remember what it was like with her and Gary: he tried to take her to a shitty spot for their first date, and she flicked him away from her like a bug. She's challenging you, you think, asking to be impressed.

You can do that. Dark horse, right? "Okay," you repeat. "I'll pick."

She leans back against the doorframe. All at once she's in that lolling, casual, flirtatious posture that she assumes for you and only you, her face tilted up, gaze intimate and a little sly. "You headin' out? I get a goodbye kiss, or what?"

"Okay," you say a third time, and you can barely kiss her, you're smiling so widely. You take your fill of her, in every sense, one more time before you leave for the day, nerves and excitement and that thread of arousal all tangling together, like a knot of live wires.

You're texting her later, because of course you're texting her later. Do you want it to be a surprise?

Italian Mama I dunno

Italian Mama Surprises never seem to work out for me

That gives you a little twinge. You find yourself running the tip of your finger up and down the side of your phone, the way you'd touch her hand or her cheek, if you could. How about just this one? you ask. And if you hate it, I'll never surprise you again?

You wish you could see her face. It would help you know if she's resigned or wary or scared. You don't want her to be antsy or nervous going into tomorrow; you want her to feel like she makes you feel: like you've got balloons and not bones, like a wind could catch you and carry you off, you're so light and so happy.

Italian Mama Ok

Italian Mama I'm gonna trust ya

It makes your heart do its now-familiar flutter in your chest. It's like there's a bird in there, some delicate fledgling thing eager to start flying. It wants to soar, holding its precious cargo: Melissa Schemmenti's trust.

The next day. Friday. Friday. Somehow, the school day rockets past you. Game night preparations have gone disastrously, and it's time for a patented Ava save, with the help of Janine and Gregory.

"Wow, who could've guessed," Kai mutters to you, and fidgets in the pocket you know holds his vape.

Your hand fidgets in your own pocket, around your phone. You and Mel exchanged good morning texts, a few kiss emojis, promises to meet up before dismissal to solidify your plans, but you haven't had a chance to see her at all.

"I don't know," you say, "I think they'll get it figured out."

"I think she's probably going to use it to mine Bitcoin somehow," Kai says.

Honestly, that sounds plausible. You shake your head anyway and make an excuse and scoot past Pedro. He's not encouraging Ava to stream game night live on Instagram, per se, but everybody knows that will guarantee some Coleman-style silliness, so he needs to get her there somehow. (Can you mine Bitcoin through Instagram?)

You don't need to send any directions to your feet; they're already walking you toward the second grade classrooms. Mel doesn't have lunchroom duty today, so you know she'll probably be catching up on two classes' worth of quizzes, or restocking art supplies, or prepping the next lesson's props and tools. Her door is shut and you peek in through the window.

She's writing on the whiteboard, looking back and forth from a worksheet in her hand, glasses on her nose. You knock. When she sees you, the narrow-eyed look of interrupted concentration melts away; she gives you a smile that shows her teeth, the kind that changes her whole face, turning her girlish, almost a little goofy. It makes your heart melt.

You open the door. "Hey," you say as she puts her glasses on top of her head and caps the marker. Being in the room with her, after not seeing her all morning, feels like coming out of the cold to a blazing fire. "Uh, hi. You look beautiful today." Then, for the third time, stupidly, adoringly, "Hi."

"You missed me, huh?" she says, putting down the marker and paper. "C'mere."

As soon as you're in grabbing distance, she takes two handfuls of your ass and pulls you in for a kiss. You're lost in it for long, long seconds.

She pulls back after giving your lower lip a bite that makes you squeak. She tucks her hands squarely in the back pockets of your jeans, holding you against her. "You look beautiful today too."

"Thanks," you say, barely registering the compliment, the way you're chasing more contact, kissing the corner of her mouth, nosing at her cheek. She's so warm in your arms. She's wearing one of her tough-girl outfits, a blazer and matching top in military green, and you sneak your hand under the jacket, finding a little stripe of bare skin between her shirt and her slacks. You touch her there with a teasing trace of your fingernail.

She shivers. Is she sensitive on her lower back? You file it away to investigate later tonight. The thought of being able to have her all to yourself tonight—hours and hours—sends sparks skipping through you. You have to kiss her again.

"You think it's unprofessional, doin' this at work?" Mel asks you breathlessly when you part again.

"I don't know," you say, "but whatever Gregory and Janine have been doing is worse, kind of."

"Yeah, that's for sure," Melissa says, and gives you a third kiss; this time, the delicate muscle of her tongue laps at you, little frissons of heat that go right between your legs.

"I came to talk about dinner," you say at last, when you think you can survive without kissing her.

"Oh, yeah," Mel says, "right. What am I wearin'?"

"Uh..." You hadn't considered it. You're just going in your usual date outfit—a button-up, a nice pair of trousers. "Business casual?"

"Okay, easy. Do I get a hint where we're goin'?" One eyebrow goes up. Her gaze acquires a competitive glint, one you've seen a hundred times through your camera. "I bet I can guess it."

"Here's your hint," you say, "it's not Italian."

"Smart cookie," Melissa says, which leads you both into another kiss, and then another. "It ain't a sandwich shop, is it?"

"No," you say, "I can't beat cousin Rocco."

"Soul food," she says.

"No. I'll come pick you up, is that okay?"

"Yeah, come, like, at five. I gotta change and do my face and stuff." She leans back, giving you a squint-eyed look of scrutiny. "Tell me it ain't French."

"It ain't," you promise, and seal it with a kiss. "I have to go. I'm pretending to be in the bathroom."

"Oh, shit," she says, eyes going wide, "we gotta catch up on this freakin' math unit and I forgot, I haven't peed in, like—"

"Go, go," you say with a laugh, letting her extract her hands from your pockets.

When you return, Kai narrows his eyes at you. You shrug at him and you're ready to get back to work, when he reaches across and plucks something off your shoulder: a single red hair. Crap.

"Damn," he says. "Dark horse."

"What's up?" Pedro glances over at you two. Fuck, you don't know if you can take his teasing today—you know he'll want all the details, and you love him, but you want to just get through work and get to Melissa...

"Nothing," Kai says, and drops the hair. He gives you a nod.

You nod back, warmth and gratitude making you smile. He doesn't smile back—you don't think you've ever seen him smile, actually—but you think you see the corner of his mouth curve up, just a little, as he peers into his camera.

Dismissal, a quick goodbye kiss with Melissa, home to get ready. You're normally an all-black kind of girl—it's just easy—but you pause in your closet and find a pink button-up. It's a mellow, soft shade, the same color as a silky blouse you've seen Melissa wear.

You put on your cologne, you style your hair. You look at yourself in the mirror. It’s funny: this is the same face you’ve always had, but three days of Melissa have done something to you. Your eyes look larger, softer; there’s a smile on your lips, small but persistent, that’s been there all day.

You haven’t always been lucky with women. You have love in your heart—God, a lot of it. Sometimes it feels like the water of an ancient lake, going down almost infinitely deep, and yet somehow about to overflow. You spent years going around offering it to anyone who would take it, and once they’d drunk their fill, they just moved on, satisfied, never giving a thought to you, never thinking you might want something back, even just gratitude.

So you pulled away. You just hurt too easily: keep them at arm’s length, never close enough to bruise. The quiet one, the shy one; that’s who you became over time, knowing that if you gave out of your abundance, you’d only be depleted. No one’s ever filled your cup.

You find yourself chewing your lip, staring at yourself. You want this to be different. You want this to be something else. Can it be?

You park your car in front of Melissa’s and find yourself wondering: text, or knock? You’re starting to get out of the car when the front door opens, and a rush of surprise and pleasure comes at the thought of Melissa waiting, watching for you. Then your breath catches hard in your throat.

She’s wearing a little red dress that… “Wow,” you say, before she’s even close enough to hear. The square neck of the dress is cut lower than her usual wear, and shows an abundance of skin that makes your mouth water. There’s a princessy quality to the cap sleeves, a delicate detail that’s perfect for Melissa: blazing, challenging red, with a hint of sweetness. The hem stops just above her knees. The fabric shows her body in intimate detail, the delicate rounding of her stomach and the flare of her hips, straining across the perfect shape of her thighs.

Her hair is down. Even late in the day it has a bit of curl. Her green eyes are like gemstones in the early evening light. Her heels have got to be four inches, but she walks with the steadiness of a queen. She’s the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen.

You circle the car to get the passenger side door. “Hey,” she says, surprised, coming closer, “it’s pink,” and touches your sleeve. It’s not even contact with your skin, barely contact, period, but it sends tingles up and down your arm. “That’s my favorite color.”

“Yeah, I know,” you say, grinning like a fool.

Her eyes drop—that hint of shyness again, that tenderness that makes your heart strain against your chest, trying to reach her—before they flick back up. “How do I look?”

“I could look at you for hours,” you tell her honestly.

"I'd kiss ya, but you'd mess up my face," she says. "Here, you get one." She turns and offers her cheek.

You're smiling as you lean down to kiss the offered skin. She's soft and warm, and you get the powdery scent of her makeup, the richness of her perfume.

"Now, c'mon, feed me," she says, and you laugh and open her door.

You drive. She's exactly the kind of passenger you expected: "Hey, check it," every time she sees a car nosing out past a stop sign, or "On your left," when you're trying to merge. "Hey," she barks when somebody cuts you off, a gesticulating, accusatory hand in the air, "cazzo, you wanna watch where you're fuckin' going?"

Melissa. Abrasive, loud, bossy, and you don't feel bulldozed at all. You feel charmed. The smile won't leave your face. You don't know if she could be more herself than right now, in your ancient Volvo, wearing the sexiest outfit you've ever seen on her, looking simultaneously bold and delicate and delicious, and hollering out the window like an angry truck driver.

She's checking her phone as you pull up outside the restaurant, and doesn't look up again until you're opening her door. "Oh," she says, surprised, looking at the place: it's a red brick building, no sign; just a single hanging red lantern beside a white door. You can see her trying to puzzle it out, glancing at you and back to the door.

"It's a bar," you explain. You open the door to your favorite izakaya. Low, golden light and warmth spill out with the Jrock playing over the speaker system.

Melissa cocks her head and looks at you curiously. You only notice that her hand's in her clutch purse when she draws it out again; you hear the rattle of her keys dropping back to the bottom. "Thought you might'a been about to take my other kidney," she says. "I was gonna fight ya."

You blink. It's one of those Melissa-isms, delivered in her dry voice, that you think might be a joke, but it might not be, either. "I wouldn't win if you did."

"You sure as hell wouldn't, baby," she says, and lets you hold the door for her as she steps inside.

You love this place. It feels a bit like your first apartment after you left home, a lot of exposed brick, shoddy white paneling creating an accent wall, and decor that's a little vintage, a little silly: a big, ornate mirror that might have once decorated a cheap theater, brass sconces for lights, Gojira posters in the style of classic ukiyo-e. There's booths on one side of the room and a mirrored bar on the other, with a wall of sake and Japanese whisky.

The hostess recognizes you, waves hi, gestures toward the room for you to seat yourself. It won't start filling up until a little later, so you have your pick of the booths; you take the side that puts your back to the door, letting Melissa have the sightline to the exit.

The low light flatters her. Any light flatters her, but there's something about the dim, intimate, golden warmth of it that makes you stare as she studies the menus, first the drinks, then the food; her eyelashes cast delicate shadows on her cheek, the curve of her lips carving lines there.

She looks up and catches you. The thoughtful twist of her mouth turns into a smirk. The question, though, isn't what you were expecting. "What made you pick here?"

Huh. "I..." You rub the back of your neck, dropping your gaze. "I really like it." That's a start, but not all of it. "I thought you might not have this kind of food all the time. I never see you eating it and I wanted you to have a nice change. And..."

"I come here alone a lot." You shrug. "I have... Good memories here." They are good memories: people-watching, trying new drinks and food, chats with the bartenders, a karaoke night where you fell in with a group of laughing, drunk women who all worked at the same office, who tried to persuade you to bar-hop with them until last call.

But it's always been you, alone; sometimes folded in with somebody else out of goodwill, sometimes noticed for your familiar face and your generous tips, spared a few more minutes of a busy mixologist's time, but always a separation, a glass wall between you and the rest of the room. No one's been on this side of it with you before.

"I wanted you to have a good memory," you say, finally. "I wanted to share it with you."

You glance at Melissa. She's watching you with a look you recognize. It's the one she gave you that night at her house—just earlier this week, but it feels like a lifetime ago. It's tender and intent. It's encouraging. Like she's watching a flower bloom.

"It's already a good memory for me, hon," Melissa says. Something nudges your ankle. It's her foot in its killer heel, gently insinuating between both of yours. You feel her knee against yours, your calves aligned together. She smiles at you. "We're here together."

Your heart does one of its aerial flips.

"You sure get shy for somebody who was talkin' about suckin' my tits before, though," she says.

You choke on nothing. Your face and ears burn. She laughs, her head dropping back, the light glinting on her saints' medals.

"Biting," you squeak, when you can get air. "We were talking about biting."

"Biting," she says, "right. How come you can say all that to me but you're nervous tellin' me you like a bar?"

It's not a bad question. You trace the grain of the wooden tabletop for a second or two, eyes down. "I'm used to giving other people what they like," you say. "I don't mean—it's not that I was lying or faking. No way. I meant it, I mean it, everything I say to you. So much, Melissa." You dart a look up to make sure she understands. "I mean, it's easy for me... For other people, I can express..."

Her hand finds yours on the table and stills it. Her manicured finger gently swipes along the curve below your thumb, down to the sensitive inner skin of your wrist, and traces slowly there, back and forth. She's giving you that look again, gentle and focused and intimate. "I get it," she says simply.

A rush of relief fills you, settling the rattle of your anxious nerves. You turn your hand over and hers settles into yours.

The server appears for your drink orders. You order the house sake, and Melissa says, "Yeah, me too." With your small glasses of sake, the two of you pore over the menu, picking a few things Melissa knows, a few things she's never had before.

The first few plates come out: shumai, hamachi, a bowl of spicy pickle. She gets pieces of toro, unagi, and salmon, and you get a roll and a plate of chashu buns. She gives those a look of pure lust.

"Take one," you say, and push the plate toward her.

She doesn't hesitate. At her first bite, she lets out a guttural moan that goes right between your thighs. You're suddenly much more aware of her ankle still caught between both of your own.

"You think I could get this recipe?" she says of the chashu after the bun has vanished.

"I think you can get whatever you want." Especially from you, especially if she keeps making those noises.

"I sure can," she says with a flirtatious bat of her eyelashes.

You've seen Melissa eat before, scraping the last bite of salad out of a tupperware or sipping from a Stanley Tucci mug, but it's different like this, sharing a meal. You love watching her small, plump hands with her chopsticks, her drinks; you love her expressive eyes, the way they widen or flutter shut at a perfect bite. Everything she tries she makes you try—insistent, "Here, you taste," like you're not the one who's had the whole menu before, and you oblige, trying to taste it for the first time, like her, letting each one blossom over your tongue, letting yourself fall under her spell.

The bar is packed by the time you're through and she's nibbled her way through a couple of frozen mochi. "We gotta come back here," she declares as the two of you leave, hand in hand. "I wanna try more. You got good taste."

"Yeah, I do," you say, looking at her. It's full dark now, but the streetlights and the moon illuminate her, outlining her red hair in silver, the shape of her hips.

"You gonna take me home now?" she says. She moves closer. "You made a lotta promises, you know."

"I know." Your hands settle on her hips. She tilts her head up; you catch her lips, tasting the plum wine you two shared. It's your first real kiss of the night, and she's mellow, soft, delicious. Still, you tell her, "We don't have to, tonight. I want to, but I don't want you to think..."

"I know," she says, and gives you another kiss. "If I thought you were buyin' dinner to make me put out, I would'a had way more food." Another kiss. "Come on, let's go. Or maybe you don't wanna get lucky?"

You drive back to Melissa's place, her hand on your thigh the whole way. Back over the welcome mat that reads GO AWAY, into the picture-lined place where it all started over a glass of wine.

Melissa takes your coat and her own and gives you her back, hanging them up in a closet by the front door. "I can get you another drink," she's saying, but all you can see is the back of her dress: the silver line of the zipper running from collar to hem, almost invisible.

You move closer and she stiffens when she feels you there, your chest to her back. You gather her hair, move it aside. Above the collar of the dress you can see the line of her nape and the muscle where her neck and her shoulder join. You lean down and kiss it.

Breathing in, you can smell her perfume again, her makeup again. Now, her skin. It's a scent you couldn't begin to describe, something living and animal and sensuous. And her hair: warm, intimate, a little bit of hairspray. You kiss the side of her neck.

"You have no idea," you say quietly. You nose against the shell of her ear. Its soft cartilage is cold from the night air outside, but warming quickly, flushing pink as you kiss it. "You have no idea how gorgeous you are. You don't know what you've been doing to me."

You lift your hands and find the tongue of the zipper. Her breath hitches. You slowly draw it down. The rasp of it is loud between your bodies.

The band of her bra. Red lace. Down her back to the luscious curvature of her hips. You're holding your breath. Her panties are red lace, too, a high-waisted thong that hugs her belly and hips but, oh, fuck: leaves her ass almost totally fucking bare. Of course, in that clinging dress. Couldn't risk panty lines.

"Jesus fucking Christ," you say, and slide the dress fully off her body. It's a puddle of red fabric on the floor. You push her chest-first against the closet door and drop to your knees.

"Oh my God," she says weakly as you hold her hips and kiss your way up the back of one thigh, then the other. The flesh here is dimpled with cellulite, a mark of her perfect abundance. You nose over the curve of her ass and bite one cheek and she squeaks and gives a weak, "Huh," afterward, like she'd surprised herself, and you bite the other cheek and her hips rock back into you.

She's still in her heels. You're starting to smell her sex. You think about having her bend over and put her hands against the door and let you eat her from behind until her knees shake and give out. Fuck, you want to, but you've been making promises; you have plans.

You straighten back up, brushing kisses up the line of her spine. "I want to see your bedroom."

"Fuck," she says dizzily. "Okay. Uh..." She starts to step away from the closet door and for the first time all night, she wobbles in her heels. She gives a little growl of frustration that's so Melissa you can't help but laugh, making her glower your way as she toes out of the shoes.

She leads you up to her bedroom. The big bed is made, but there are plenty of signs of life: the vanity against one wall, scattered with makeup; the bedside table with a dog-eared book and a pair of her glasses; there's a bra tossed over the cracked closet door.

She turns to face you, unself-conscious, and grabs you for another kiss, deep, dirty, her tongue licking into your mouth. "Can't believe you wore my favorite color," she says breathlessly, and starts fumbling with the buttons of your shirt. "God, you look so hot."

Your shirt's halfway open when you get your mouth on her neck. She groans, hands loosening on the fabric. Soft, right along the line of her jaw, under her chin, down her throat where you feel a moan vibrate through the skin. "Harder," she says.

You stay soft. The hollow of her throat, her clavicle. You nose one strap of her bra. She whines, "Harder," and grips your hair.

"I told you," you say. "I'm going to make you beg." She gasps. Your cunt pulses. You wonder if the same thing happened in her classroom that day, if she sat at her desk squirming, little hitches of her breath betraying her.

You squeeze her ass and she sways into you. Your hands shape her hips, up her sides, over her back, feeling the landscape of it, the valley of her spine. You trace the band of her bra. It's so pretty, you almost don't want to take it off.

"Where's your vibrator?" you ask.

"Huh?"

"Your vibrator," you patiently repeat, and lean back. You see in her eyes when it clicks. She leans away from you toward the nightstand, pulling open the top drawer. Inside, there's a pack of melatonin gummies, a lavender and chamomile room spray, a mini bottle of Jack Daniels, and a hot pink wand vibrator. Her sleep aid drawer, you realize.

You pick up the toy. It has a good weight, and the silicone is almost as soft as her skin. You find the power button, click it on, and cycle with a few presses through the three strength settings. You settle back on the first one and test it against the inside of your wrist, feeling the rumble against the sensitive skin there.

You look up again and Melissa's sitting on the edge of the bed. She's breathing hard, staring at you, and she's blushing.

"Lay back against the pillows for me, baby."

She scoots back, gives you a challenging look, and spreads her legs. You can really smell her, a thick, rich, saline scent that makes your mouth water. The drawer's still open and you spot a small bottle of lube; you take it out just in case, then slide the drawer shut.

"You gonna get naked?" she says as you join her on the bed.

"Not yet," you say and kiss her again. And again. The vibrator sits on the mattress, turned off, and you want to make her forget it's there. You take your time, licking at the serrated edge of her teeth, sucking on her lower lip until she's whimpering.

You couldn't have imagined that sound coming from Melissa Schemmenti. You chase it, have to have it again. Her lipstick is smeared, almost gone. She keeps tugging on your hair as you kiss her, starting to squirm beneath you, saying things like "More," and "Harder," but not please—not yet.

She slides down against the pillows, laying herself more fully under your body, and the motion makes the vibrator roll down the mattress to bump her side. Her breath speeds up all over again, and her eyes flick from it to you.

You pick up the toy and click it on. "Keep your legs spread."

"Oh, fuck yes," Melissa says, then whines aloud when you touch the vibrator not to her clothed pussy, but to the inner crease of her thigh. "Fuck, c'mon."

"C'mon, what?" You trail the vibrator up the inside of her thigh, toward her knee, and back down again.

"You know—" her breath stutters when you switch legs. "You know what I want."

"And you know what I want."

That makes her moan. Her head drops back, her chest heaving. You lean down to kiss her sternum, to finally nose against one perfect breast, the way you've hungered for it since that photo. The lace of her bra scratches your cheek. You can feel her nipple through the cup, taut against the fabric. You bring the vibrator up and tease its rumbling head over that peak, making her shudder, then replace it with your mouth, letting her feel the heat and wet, just barely, still separated from you by her bra.

"God, fuck," she says, "fuck you," and you switch breasts, teasing her other nipple to aching stiffness. You nuzzle the skin that her bra offers up, the plump perfect roundness of her breast, part your lips, drag your teeth over it. She's so soft here, so much, and it's perfect. Your hand drops with the vibrator and you trace it over her hip toward her sex, making her squirm, as you busy yourself with soft bites and sucks.

You change your angle a little, propping a hand against the pillows so you can lean over her. Your body casts a shadow and her green eyes look up at you from beneath it, somehow both pleading and mutinous. You idle the vibrator back up along the waistband of her underwear and then slowly down toward her cunt, playing it over the plumpness of her mons.

"Fuck," she says, "fucking fuck you, okay, please," and you smile. "Please, I said please, will you fucking please—"

You bring the wand down over her pussy. Her head rolls back and she groans, starting to squirm. "Pull down your bra for me," you say.

"What?" Her voice, face, are foggy and vague, but after a few seconds she understands, lifting her hands to tug down the bra's cups, showing you her perfect breasts. They're begging for your mouth, and you promised her you'd give her what she wanted when she begged, didn't you?

You drop your head. Kiss over one breast, then the other. Mouth at the flesh—so fucking soft, so good against your lips, sucked into the wetness of your mouth. The tops of her breasts have a small scattering of freckles that you have to dust in turn with adoring kisses. Her hard nipple brushes your cheek and you draw it past your lips as you trace the wand vibrator up and down, from her clit to the entrance of her cunt, back again, never letting it linger.

You switch to her other nipple, leaving her breast damp and reddened from your mouth. Her head tosses back and forth against the pillows as she whines, squirms, moans, says, "Fuck," and, voice breaking a little, "You're still fuckin' teasin' me—please, please, I said it, please—"

The words, her need, are electricity surging straight to your aching clit. Your voice is a rasp to match her own when you lift your head and breathe in her ear, "You sound so good like this, Melissa." She gives a broken whimper. "You're so perfect. I'll give you more. I promise. I'll take care of you. Take your panties off for me, sweetheart."

With a grateful sob she lifts her hips and shoves her underwear down her thighs, no further. You flash on that fantasy you had of her, getting off after a school day, slacks and panties around her knees as she fucked herself. Looks like you were right.

"You might need," she starts to say, but you're already reaching across to pick up the bottle of lube. You click off the vibrator and let her watch you drip the lube over your fingers, slicking them up. She's panting harder and harder just watching you.

With your other hand freed from the vibrator, you can pull the thong all the way off her legs, leaning back on your knees to do it. You push one thigh then the other wide apart. Her pussy is plump and gorgeous, red and swollen, her own wetness gleaming from between her spread labia. You add to it: the softest touch of your fingertips against her sex, trailing up and around the peak of her clit, not touching it directly.

She makes a noise you can barely describe, a groan of misery and arousal and desperation. Sliding your fingers back down toward the heat of her cunt, slipping one slowly inside, watching her as you do it. Her eyelashes flutter, her lips parting. Once you're sure she's wet enough, you add a second finger. The lube and her own gathering wetness makes a slick, dirty sound as you begin to stroke inside her, all delicacy, all torment.

"Oh, fuck," she says, "don't stop, Jesus Christ, please, don't stop, I need it, I, I..." Now she's babbling, the way she's made you do, one hand fisted in the bed covers, the other grabbing your wrist. "I need it so bad, I need you to fuck me, I've been waitin', please..."

"You've been waiting?" It occurs to you that this version of Melissa, already begging, might be willing to tell you some embarrassing truths. "How long?"

"Since we met," she gasps. "Since—oh, fuck..."

Since you met? That was the very first day of shooting—getting all the establishing shots, the very first moments and interviews. She intimidated you—her and Barbara both did—but Barbara, at least, gave a little, showed a bit of herself to the camera. You remember how Melissa was, arms folded over her chest, cool and hostile with Pedro as he tried to coax her out, get her to introduce herself.

Her eyes had moved from him to you, looking past the camera. "You Sicilian?" she'd asked you. She smiled at you that day and it transformed her sullen, cagey face, turned her, however momentarily, sweet. "Italian?" she'd continued, then her eyes darted from you to Pedro, over to the boom mic guy, trying to get a read on all of you. "You from South?" Her smile vanished. Her voice tightened up again: "Okay, you guys workin' with the cops? 'Cause you gotta tell me."

You reward her for the honesty with a press of your palm against her clit. Her hips jerk up. "I remember that day."

Her head drops back again, her eyes squeezing shut. The words leave her in a breathless rush: "You were so cute'n I hated the cameras but whenever you were there I would just—and you were always so, you were gentle, and—I always knew when you were lookin' at me—"

"I was looking at you every chance I got." You watch her face as you begin to ease a third finger inside her. This one has to burn a little; you can feel her body, resistant at first, starting to stretch to take it, and you don't push; you wait to see her eyes open again, their needy, yielding look. She lets go of the covers to grab one leg under her knee and pull it wider apart to help you. You add a little more lube, just in case, not wanting to hurt her.

"I was always looking at you, Melissa." She stares up at you. There's a crease between her brows, her swollen lips parted; she looks stunned, overwhelmed, face pink, as you slide that third finger inside her.

"I was always looking at you," you repeat, and begin to gently fuck her. Her cunt opens for you and desperately clenches against your fingers, grasping and irregular, trying to keep you. "You're so beautiful. I always wanted you. I thought you were the sexiest, meanest—" that surprises a panting laugh from her—"woman I'd ever seen. You were so smart, so funny—you protected everyone, and you took care of everybody—" her eyes squeeze shut. "Let me take care of you now."

You reach over and pick up the vibrator. You click it on. Her eyes open again at the sound of its buzz. You press the button again, then a third time, bringing it to its strongest setting. Melissa's eyes are huge. She's panting, staring, knowing what you're about to do, and the look of vulnerability and desire on her face, her smeared lipstick, her messy hair, she's perfect, so perfect, and you need to make her come now.

"I need it," you tell her, holding her gaze. "I need it. Let me feel it, Melissa." You bring the vibrator to her swollen, begging clit.

A moment of nothing but her breath caught in her chest and her wide-eyed gaze on yours. Her pussy clamps down around your fingers and you feel the ripples of her orgasm start before she drops her head back and gives a wounded, animal cry.

You chase the waves of her climax, fucking her through them, coaxing them toward you; you rub the head of the vibrator along her slippery clit. Her head tosses back and forth on the pillow like it's too much, but her hand still grasps your wrist, keeping you right where you are, and her hips are working, riding your fingers.

"I can't," she starts saying when she can heave a breath back into her lungs, "I can't, I can't, oh, please—" you click the vibrator off and throw it aside; it nearly rolls off the mattress. You spread the lips of her pussy wide and you lean down and bite one shaking thigh, then the other, then seal your lips over her swollen, tender clit.

Fuck the vibrator: this is your new favorite toy. You play with it and play with it and Melissa comes again, or keeps coming, you're not sure which. One leg goes over your shoulder and her hips twitch and writhe until you have to hold her down.

"Oh my G—oh my God, oh, baby," then, just chanting over and over again, like you could ever tell her no again, like you can deny her anything in the world: "Please, please, please..."

Anything she wants. The whole fucking world, if it were yours to give. You suck and lick at her cunt as her hands find your hair and yank.

How long can she go for? How many times can you make her come? You want to know. You want to fuck her until she faints. But that's not for tonight—not without planning, not without her consent—so when she starts making airy noises that are weak and almost pained, you ease off, slowing your mouth and fingers, letting her come down.

You rub her hips and thighs and her soft belly, and give light kisses to the mound of her pubis. She stops pulling on your hair, grip going slack at first; then, as she comes back into herself by slow degrees, she scratches her nails gently against your scalp.

Kisses for her stomach, her ribs. "Here, baby," you whisper, and reach under her body; she lifts up so you can unhook her bra, sticky fingers brushing her skin. You ease it off and drop it to wherever her panties went. She's nude under you now, flushed all over, body loose and relaxed against the mattress; you pet every inch of her you can reach.

You cup her cheek. Her head turns into the contact. There's sweat gleaming along her hairline and her upper lip. Her eyes, mascara and liner blurred, open to meet yours; her gaze is bleary at first, then sharpens.

You expect another fuck-you, or a joke, or even a "thanks, I needed that," but what she says is, "Now you sit on my face."

Your mind whites out. It's possible you forget the English language for a second or two. When you're back from wherever your soul departed to, she's pulling on the buttons of your shirt, brow knit and wearing an impatient little scowl, yanking the last ones open. "What?" you say weakly.

"I said," Melissa says, fully herself again, no longer the begging, needy, squirming creature of minutes ago, "now you sit on my face. C'mon. Get this off." She grabs the buckle of your belt and works the tongue out of it with a metallic clink.

"I," you say, "I," and she drags your trousers down your legs. You have to lean back off her to get them and your underwear all the way off. Your shirt still hangs open, showing your bra, your bare stomach. She leans up to kiss your sternum with an open mouth, tongue flickering hot against your skin.

"I told you," she growls against your neck, "to sit on my fuckin' face," and there's no more of anything in your world but her, you scrambling up onto your knees, spread wide, her sliding down the bed to get under your cunt.

You falter for a moment; she grabs your hips and yanks you down. There's no playing, no teasing. She drags the flat of her tongue up the folds of your pussy and takes your clit into her mouth and sucks. Her green eyes are open and staring up at you and you see your own dazed pleasure reflected in them.

It takes about five embarrassing seconds before you come in her mouth. She moans loudly against you and tries to hold you where you are, but your legs are shaking badly; imagine if you broke her nose the first night, God—you lift one knee so you can get off of her and drop onto your back.

She follows you. Clambers on top of you intently but unsteadily, still wobbling from her own orgasms, and kisses sloppily down your stomach to get back to your pussy.

"Melissa—" you're gasping, and she's putting her tongue inside you, angling her head to get it in as far as she can. She licks, sucks, wraps her arms around your hips and holds you against her as you try to buck away. The wet noises of her mouth against your cunt are obscene.

You come again, and maybe one more time, you're not sure; your mind blanks again. When you can think, feel, process again, she's giving little kitten licks to your sensitive sex that send shudders up your whole body.

"Okay," you say. Your throat hurts a little—how much noise were you making? You clear it. "Okay. You win." You tap out on the mattress like a boxer. She's wearing a look of supreme satisfaction as she lets you go, her face covered in slick wetness, her makeup a disaster, her hair a messy tangle. She's so beautiful. Your heart does a now-familiar backflip.

She crawls up your body and flops onto her side next to you, curling onto your chest. There's long minutes of just you two breathing, the sound filling the room, a tingling starting in your pussy that you know is the herald of after-sex soreness, her damp fingertips tracing idly on your skin.

You start to smooth out her hair. It'll take a shower and a comb to really fix—maybe you'll suggest it. You trail your fingers down and follow the freckled curve of her shoulder, the roll of flesh on her side along her ribs, the dip of her waist before it opens onto the perfect field of her hips and ass.

Her eyes flick up to yours. They're softer and happier than you've ever seen them; the look on her face is gentle and content. You bring your questing hand up to cup her cheek. She kisses your thumb.

"I'm hungry again," she declares.

A laugh bursts out of you, full of affection. "What?" she says, clearly about to be offended, but before she can go any further, you pull her fully into your arms, wrap around her and squeeze.

You press your face into her neck and inhale, smelling her sweat and skin and sex. "You're perfect for me," you say into that warm curve, muffled against her skin. "You're just perfect." You peck a kiss onto her jaw and lean back to touch her cheek again. "Should we make something? Do you want pasta?"

She grins at you. It's that big, Cheshire smile you saw on her face a few days ago, telling Barbara about how she shot her shot, full of preening satisfaction. She leans in and brushes your nose with hers.

"I knew I picked right," she says, simply, happily. She laces her fingers with yours. "Come on, I got a robe you could wear. You like carbonara?"

She leads you off the rumpled bed. You can see you've left a blurry pink bite mark on one cheek of her perfect ass. She brings you a fuzzy shortie robe ("I like your legs, baby, lemme see 'em") and puts on a silk one herself, and takes your hand again as she opens the bedroom door.

You feel good. You're happy. You realize as she brings you to the kitchen, to the very heart of her home, that you're not alone anymore.

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

Author's Note:

I received the following prompt from an anonymous reader on Tumblr:

"can you write some fluffy smut for Mel x reader where everyone thinks Mel would be in charge in the bedroom because she’s so tough and reader is so shy. but actually reader takes care of Mel."

Back when Season 2 was airing, I saw a few fan posts saying that Lisa Ann had suggested there was a cameraperson on the crew that Melissa thought was cute, which led to the rare scenes where Melissa opens up to the camera. I'm not sure if this is accurate to what she said, but that idea has stuck with me. When I received the above prompt, it went into a blender with that thought, and this is the smoothie that resulted.

I hope I've done justice to this lovely prompt!

[janeyseymour]

Just Sex

Summary: Melissa is hooking up with the chief at the firehouse, so you decide that you can have your own fun.

WC: ~2.1k

After the failed relationship and proposal with Gary, Melissa has been going out to bars and staying out late at night. She finds herself in bed with quite a few men and women, and while she’s not thrilled that she’s back to this lifestyle, she’s impressed that she still has what it takes. Getting older did not make it any easier to attract people.

But then one night she sees the fire chief out at the bar, one thing leads to the other, and they’re in a friends with benefits sort of situationship.

Of course, all of this comes out when you’re renewing your CPR training certificate with the Abbott clan, and Barbara has made it quite clear that she’s upset Melissa didn’t tell her of this relationship before.

You had been busy trying to pass your test, but now it’s your partner’s turn to go, and you tune back into the world around you.

“But if I were gonna label it, I would say it’s just sex,” you hear Melissa tell her work wife in a low voice.

You don’t really know what she’s talking about, but you shrug it off. That is, until Janine comes back into the room and asks for the gossip. Barbara of course goes off, claiming that her friend of over fifteen years trusts her no more than a common street stranger. It becomes apparent to you that whatever hookup situation they’re talking about has been going on for a bit of time now. You feel a nasty pit settle in your stomach at that.

That pit only grows when you go out with the crew after the CPR course to celebrate the fact that you all passed. Of course, conversation leads back to Melissa and Jacob both having sexual relations with people from the firehouse.

“Well, I think I blew that one,” Jacob groans as he finishes off his aperol spritz. “But let’s talk about you, Mel Mel.”

“There ain’t nothin’ to talk about,” the redhead waves him off. “It’s just casual sex.”

“Casual sex that’s been going on for how long?” Barbara asks with a raised brow.

Melissa purses her lips as she thinks. “Couple weeks now?”

“A month,” Jacob cuts in. “C’mon, Melissa. When are you just going to admit that you like him?”

“I do not,” she states very clearly. “I just need something to take the edge off for me, and… he does that.”

“How kinky is it?” Ava asks, a smirk on her face.

Jacob opens his mouth, and Melissa very quickly shoves her hand over his mouth. “You say a word, and you’re out on the curb faster than you were out with Zach.”

The man’s eyes widen, and he nods quickly. She pulls her hand away from his mouth, and he breathes a deep sigh in relief. 

“I’m not looking for a relationship or nothing… not unless the right person comes along,” the second grade teacher says as she finishes off her beer.

Barb turns to look at her work wife with a curious face. She knows of the little crush that her best friend has on you. Melissa just nods at the kindergarten teacher’s silent question.

But you don’t take it that way, because you have no idea that Melissa has had her eye on you since before she broke it off with Gary. You see it that you have no chance with your favorite coworker at all.

Feeling as though you could burst into tears at any given moment, you quietly excuse yourself from the rest of the outing and head for your apartment.

“What was that?” Melissa furrows a brow and purses her lips as she gazes in the direction that you left.

“I’m sure it was just a long day for her is all,” Janine tries to come up with some sort of logistical reason as to why you would leave early. “I did have a meeting with her before school even started today, so she’s been up for quite some time.”

Everybody seems to accept that reasoning, and they continue on with their night.

The next day, you march yourself into Ava’s office bright and early.

“Girl, what are you doin? I’m tryna get this knot out of my back,” your principal groans as she shuts off her personal back massager.

“I need your help,” you tell her, not even bothering to acknowledge that she isn’t doing her job at all.

“With?” She leans forward just slightly in her chair.

You smile at her. “I know you know a bunch of people… set me up with someone?”

“Oh, girl,” she laughs. “What’s gotten into you? Every other time I’ve asked if you want someone, you decline!”

“Just… thinking I should get myself out there,” you shrug. “You know? If Melissa can do it, so can I.”

Ava’s jaw drops. “So this is about Melissa.”

“What?”

“I knew you had the hots for her!” the principal grins. 

“What? Not! I- I just figured, if everyone else can have at it, so can I?”

“Oh, girl,” she laughs in your face. “This ain’t you at all, but I am in full support of it. Give me til the end of the day, and I’ll have someone for you.”

You end up going out with a woman that night that Ava set you with, and you do end up actually liking her… and she’s pretty damn good in bed.

The next morning, you’re practically glowing while you drink your morning coffee in the break room. Julie, the woman that you ended up in bed with last night, is texting you about maybe meeting up again later this week.

And if you weren’t still in love with the redhead that comes in a few seconds later, you would say yes. Instead, you send her a text that says, Maybe. Kinda busy the next couple weeks.

She texts you back a picture… a rather scandalous picture. And you blush when you see it.

“What’s got you all giddy today?” the redhead asks as she leans over. She sees the picture before you can close out of it, and her eyebrows creep up her head.

“Who’s that?”

You shrug. “Just someone Ava set me up with.”

“Ava?” Melissa asks in disbelief. “How long have you been seeing her?”

“Not long,” you tell her. “It’s just sex, really.”

The redhead folds her arms over her chest. “I didn’t think you were like that.”

“I’m not, but I figured I might as well give it a shot,” you say. “Now, I have to head to my room to finish up some of my grading, but I’ll see you later.”

You don’t have any intention to see her later. And you don’t. You pull back from her and her group- although most of them still find their ways to you. It’s mostly just the redheaded second grade teacher that you avoid. And it happens that way for a few more days.

You’re in the break room heating up your lunch when Ava comes in. “Girl! Are you gonna text Julie back or not?”

Melissa makes her way in, and you sigh. “It’s just sex. I’m not looking for a relationship or nothing… not unless the right person comes along,” you unintentionally repeat what the second grade teacher had said out at the bar. The microwave indicates that your food is finished, and you pull it out before heading back down to your classroom for lunch.

You miss the scowl on Melissa’s face, but Ava sure as hell doesn’t.

“Girl, you jealous or something?” the principal leans in with a smirk.

“What would I be jealous of?”

“That someone else is hitting that hot piece of ass,” Ava says like it’s obvious. The second grade teacher rolls her eyes, but Ava continues. “I see the way you look at her. Practically undressing her with your eyes every time she walks into the room.”

Melissa crosses her arms again. “I can’t believe you set her up with someone if you knew I like her.”

“I was hoping it would give you a swift kick in the ass that she was gonna start hoeing it up,” Ava shrugs. “Now admit that you’re jealous before everyone else comes in here.”

“Okay, I’m jealous,” the redhead relents. “But it don’t matter anyway. She isn’t lookin’ for anyone- she just said that.”

“She said, and I quote, ‘I’m not looking for a relationship or nothing… not unless the right person comes along. And girl, you’re that person for her!”

Everyone else starts filing in, and Ava makes it so that she looks impossibly bored, although she is actually quite the opposite. “Okay, I’m leaving this snooze fest.” She heads out, but not before giving Melissa a subtle wink and tap on the wrist. “Get it, girl.”

That day, Melissa sits thoughtfully during her lunch period about what Ava said… maybe she’s right? But she can’t be sure, so after dismissal duty, the fiery second grade teacher heads down to the front office and bursts into the principal’s office.

“Schemmenti,” Ava grins. “You do it yet?”

“I ain’t doin’ nothin’ until I’m positive Y/N has a thing for me too,” Melissa sits down across from the woman. “So tell me what you know.”

Ava spends a long time telling the redhead about the various times she’s caught you checking Melissa and only Melissa out, how you always seem to linger around her during events, how the two of you are almost always partners for things now and how you being around always makes her soft and you absolutely bask in her warmth. She even confesses that you went down to her office to ask her to set you up because of Melissa.

“You convinced yet?” the principal asks after ten minutes.

Melissa bites her lip. “Yeah. Okay.”

“I’d make a move quick though. She said something about potentially seeing Julie today.”

“Isn’t that going to piss off your friend that Y/N might leave her for me?”

“She ain’t my friend,” Ava says as she files her nails. “I made a dating profile for Y/N and picked the first mildly attractive woman I saw.”

“You’re unbelievable sometimes,” the redhead pinches the bridge of her nose.

“Maybe, but ain’t you gonna go get your girl?”

Melissa stands from her chair and thanks the principal before rushing out and down your hallway. She hopes to catch you before you head out for the night. And of course, because you’re a dedicated teacher, you’re still there prepping for tomorrow. She knocks on your doorframe and leans against it.

“Just a sec!” you reply cheerily, not turning around yet. You’re hands deep in soil for the gardening project that your students will be participating in tomorrow.

“I don’t got a second,” Melissa says. You whip around at her voice.

“Hey,” you sigh, all joy in your voice gone.

“Don’t go out with Julie tonight,” the redhead tells you.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because I want you to go out with me instead,” she tells you seriously.

“You’re dating the fire chief,” you deadpan.

“I ain’t dating nobody because the only person I want to date is you,” the redhead admits.

That gets you to drop the dirt that is currently in your hands. “What?”

“I told everyone I was just having casual sex and wasn’t looking for a relationship unless the right person came around because… because the only person I would want to be in a relationship is you, and I didn’t think I had a chance.”

“Melissa, are you an idiot?” You ask her. “I’ve shamelessly flirted with you since you broke it off with Gary and practically thrown myself at you in hopes that you would pick me instead of some random hookup.”

She crosses the room, and she’s kissing you before you even know what’s happening. You instinctively kiss her back, and… wow. When you pull away, you quickly wipe the dirt off of your hands before pulling her in close again.

“Don’t go out with Julie tonight,” she pleads again.

“Don’t go out with the fire chief anymore,” you mumble against her lips.

She nods and mutters, “I already called it off. You cancel on Julie, and meet me at my place?”

You end up at Melissa’s house within the hour, and she wines and dines you. And then you end up in her bed seeing stars. Your legs tremble for what feels like forever before she makes her way back up to you.

“And just so you know,” she husks into your ear. “There ain’t nothin’ casual about this. This ain’t just sex.”

Tags: (and let me know if you want to be included!): @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22

[rippersz]

𝙰𝚕𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚊 𝙳𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚌𝚞 + 𝙻𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚊 𝚆𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚜 𝙰𝚜 𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜 (𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜 #2) (Slightly NSFW):

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

OH THE PASSION. THE LUST. THE LOVE. Here’s how you met these two beautiful creatures :3 :

୨˚୧୨˚୧୨˚୧୨˚୧୨˚୧୨˚୧୨˚୧୨˚୧୨˚୧୨˚୧୨˚୧୨˚୧୨˚୧

ʚ♡ɞ Larissa has gone through a lot of dry spells in life. She spent a long stretch of adult life alone when first returning to Nevermore and becoming Principal. She was constantly busy and never had time for anyone else in her bed, much less herself. So anything regarding sex was put on the back burner. It became hard when she thought about it, but after soaking herself in heaps of work, it wasn’t so bad returning to a cold bed.

ʚ♡ɞ Then… you. And Alcina, of course. But first you. You, who started at Nevermore as a faculty member. You were a hit with everyone - especially the Principal. She thought you were funny and intriguing, and often found herself gravitating toward you at important events and staff meetings. Her eyes would always seek you out, and her heart began to pound whenever she thought about you walking into the room. It was hard to come to terms with this ‘crush’ - she hasn’t had a very good track record when it comes to romantic relationships, one night stands, or interests. You, however, melted around Larissa. You became best friends in no time. The dynamic duo of Nevermore. Wherever she was, you were usually close behind if you weren’t busy with classes or lesson planning.

ʚ♡ɞ And soon enough! You kissed. One warm night in her office, with you leaning against the couch, your bare feet in her lap. There was a glass of wine beside her kicked off heels and a glass of easy champagne in your hand. You were never a heavy drinker - and you always wanted to keep your wits around Larissa. But she was so… spectacular. She made you laugh until you cried, snarking about this person or another, and her hand was so warm on your calf. Those polished fingernails of hers drew random shapes along your skin, and you couldn’t help but fall into a state of utter happiness. Pure joy. You were so content you could’ve fallen asleep. But then the night was ending and she was shifting to get up and you leaned forward to sit up and your faces were suddenly so close and neither of you could pass up the moment. Not at all. Two seconds later, you were sharing a slow hesitant kiss. It was a soft press, and then a breath, and then another soft press. It was easy to fall into it, but she slipped a hand onto your shoulder and gently pulled away. A small talk ensued about your jobs - and you said you were already looking for a place in Jericho. Working at Nevermore was lovely, but you needed a bit more independence. She said to let her know when you were ready to go and kissed your cheek chastely before letting you go, blushing madly as you went.

ʚ♡ɞ So you began dating. It was beautiful. Slow and steady and not at all boring. Larissa herself was so fascinating that even a night in together, with no other plans, was a good enough date for you. There were picnics, restaurants, nights at her office, walks around Jericho in the light rain, even a vacation to Paris once over the summer.

ʚ♡ɞ It was amazing! Perfection.

ʚ♡ɞ Until you walked into a bar one evening, took a seat at a booth, and heard a deep rich voice break the comfortable conversation. It was angry and loud. Distinctly feminine but also a bit scary. You instantly made eye contact with Larissa, who looked rather (appropriately) startled.

ʚ♡ɞ “I don’t understand how you ever passed Kindergarten! Did you lose your ability to read in the huge clown pockets of your ridiculous suit pants? It clearly says ‘served chilled.’” And hard hitting heels spiked against the wooden floor. “No wonder this hole has such a poor rating! You can’t understand a wine label! Thank god I’m opening a business here. You’ll be out within the month. I suggest you start packing. Goodbye!”

ʚ♡ɞ And from around the corner came a woman even taller than Larissa. You saw her first and your eyes flew so wide, your lover had to turn right around in her spot and go “What’s wrong??” before the words died instantly on her lips.

ʚ♡ɞ There was a raven-haired beauty, sleek and curvy, that came stalking around from the back office. Her lips? Deep red. Her eyes? Hidden behind sunglasses. She didn’t seem to care if it was nighttime. Her attitude radiated arrogance and strength. She was obviously pissed, and obviously pre-occupied, but something stopped her. You and Larissa, probably. But you didn’t understand how she saw you - she was looking away! Apparently that didn’t matter, as a second later she stopped - and her head whipped around to face you two.

ʚ♡ɞ Instantly, you sank back into the booth. Larissa looked at you with wide eyes. You looked at her with wide eyes. It would have been comical if you weren’t so nervous. She definitely saw you. And she looked expensive. Opening a business? Out within the month? Who the fuck is she?

“Excuse me.”

And like one person, you and Larissa turned to look up. She was, somehow, taller than your lover. Larissa stood at a beautiful 6’3”, but the stranger stood at… 6’9” probably. She looked nearly inhuman. Pale, striking, and her nails were so… sharp.

“I couldn’t help but notice you’re the only ones occupying this… establishment,” she spoke so properly, drawing out some of her vowels with a drawl. You swallowed. Larissa stared. “I must be honest, ladies. It’s really not worth your time. Why don’t I show you a better spot? I have a feeling you’ll enjoy it.”

You shared a confused, worried glance with your lover. The woman’s smile was sharp.

“I um- Larissa? Thoughts?”

Your lover blinked and quickly gave you a polite smile.

“I think it would be rude if we passed it up… what do you think, love?”

“Uh-”

“How about this,” the woman interrupted and placed her palms on the table, and her sunglasses slid down the bridge of her nose. Suddenly, you were both pierced straight through by sharp golden eyes. Definitely not human. You and Larissa shared a look. “To apologize for my… earlier outburst… I’ll treat you both to a brilliant dinner. I insist.”

ʚ♡ɞ And so you went out together. She said she’d send you back to pick up your car later and then you all packed into the back of a limo. Clearly, she had money. You clasped Larissa’s hand. And then the woman went soft with charm. She took off her glasses, shook your hands, and introduced herself as Alcina Dimitrescu. Instantly, you knew the name. Dimitrescu Winery. The vineyard. And this was the Queen Bee herself.

ʚ♡ɞ It was riveting eating with Alcina. She got the best service, the best food, and the rich restaurant you went to some miles outside of Jericho seemed to welcome her with open arms. You talked about your job, Alcina mentioned her new business opening in Jericho, and Larissa kept herself quiet about her job. She was always weary. Thank goodness that changed as soon as Alcina gave her a once over and engaged her in the most intriguing conversation. She wanted her to be comfortable. Larissa squeezed your hand under the table when Alcina asked about her job, and you squeezed it back. When Larissa finally spoke about Nevermore, Alcina lit up.

“It seems like a marvelous place. I know I would have loved going there when I was young.”

ʚ♡ɞ You talked politics, dinner, jobs, men, and women. Alcina could obviously tell you were involved - and you were so used to people mentioning it somehow that it was weird how she didn’t comment on it. Until she mentioned an ex-wife, and you squeezed Larissa so hard she had to stop herself from bursting out laughing.

ʚ♡ɞ Alcina made you both blush. She was so engaging, so haughty, and clearly flawed. But you and Larissa looked at her with sparkling eyes. It was a marvelous evening. You exchanged numbers.

ʚ♡ɞ And then there was another meet up. And another. And soon enough, you were three best friends. Three best friends with a shit ton of tension. By the time you and Larissa spoke about your mutual interest, you knew a lot about Alcina. You trusted her with everything. On one of her less busy days, she brought Larissa lunch because she forgot hers. And one evening when you were working late, she showed up with a cup of hot chocolate and coaxed you into going home. She was very sweet on you both.

ʚ♡ɞ Eventually, you had the talk. It was in Larissa’s quarters. Alcina had invited you over to her very luxurious apartment many times, but on that evening, you were lounging in Larissa’s living room. Heels all kicked off, Alcina’s wine on the table, and you came up with the half tipsy idea to play spin the bottle. It was silly, made them laugh, but you put the emptied bottle on its side and spun and soon enough you were kissing Larissa. It was a gentle, slow kiss. Then she spun and oh… oh. Of course. You’d both have to kiss Alcina at some point. And something in her eyes glinted with sadistic pleasure. Larissa was a little nervous, but she threw caution to the wind and kissed Alcina soundly on the lips. You were buzzing with anticipation and nervousness—which quickly slipped into desire when Alcina let out a filthy groan and kissed Larissa back. She was quickly overpowering, shuffling closer, but your lover pulled back with a raspy gasp - And Alcina leaned over the table, took the bottle, and pointed it toward you. No spin necessary apparently as she moved across like a lioness, grasped your chin in one hand, and pulled you into a deep kiss. Again, she groaned. Larissa was blushing all the way to her toes. You were nearly fitful with pleasure. And when she sat back, satisfied with her smudged lipstick, looking bizarrely outrageously handsome, you and Larissa shared a look. But Alcina spoke first.

“Forgive my… overzealous nature. I’m sure it’s no surprise. I have just been… eager.”

“For how long?” You asked her.

The smile she gave you was sheepish.

“Since the first time we shared dinner together…”

ʚ♡ɞ And of course that led to your amazing power throuple.

ʚ♡ɞ It’s the best relationship you’ve ever been in. They’re mature women, but also incredibly childish at times. Alcina especially. Larissa has a better handle of her emotions and yours. She just knows how to be a good partner - probably because she’s spent a lot of time alone, wondering about all the ways she’d treat her lover.

Alcina, however… well she has her moments.

They’re usually in the bedroom.

ʚ♡ɞ Her nature is incredibly domineering and on one of your official dates together, she explained herself.

“I don’t think either of you will be surprised, but honesty is of course the best policy,” she cleared her throat. “So I should probably tell you both that I’m a dragon.”

Her bluntness had you laughing, but she was not joking around. Larissa could only gape.

“A dragon? That’s your gene pool?”

“Indeed, draga.”

ʚ♡ɞ So it did actually explain a lot. Her possessiveness, her strength—she doesn’t know how to be any way else. And her lust for blood, too… it’s something you try not to talk about in depth. She tells you her practices are safe and consensual, and she’s not interested in fucking anyone who isn’t you or Larissa. The crassness has Larissa blushing, but it’s endearing. And you both trust her.

HOWEVER.

The Bedroom is a different story.

ʚ♡ɞ There, the differences in your personalities stand out a lot.

ʚ♡ɞ There, you are the small quivering submissive doll that Alcina loves to play with and the sweet little darling that Larissa loves to tease. It’s rather unfair, but when you get both of their hands on you, you can’t complain.

ʚ♡ɞ BDSM is a big part of your relationship, as I’ve mentioned in the past. It’s something that means a lot to all three of you, and the intricacies are something you learn with passion; so titles (for example) is a thing you indulge in often.

ʚ♡ɞ Alcina is Mommy. It’s just how it is. And Larissa is Miss. Or Mommy. Or Mistress. It really depends on how far gone you are. If you’re deep in sub-space and shy, she’s Mommy. If you’re feeling a bit brat-ish and frustrated, it’s Mistress. Alcina’s title also changes sometimes, but it’s usually Mommy. Something about it gives her a power trip - which she lives on of course. And it’s… whew. It’s WHEW.

୨˚୧୨˚୧୨˚୧୨˚୧୨˚୧୨˚୧୨˚୧୨˚୧୨˚୧୨˚୧୨˚୧୨˚୧୨˚୧

I’ll probably do an NSFW Alphabet for both characters. What do you all think? Let me know ;)) Thank you for the support! - Rip x

୨˚୧୨˚୧୨˚୧୨˚୧୨˚୧୨˚୧୨˚୧୨˚୧୨˚୧୨˚୧୨˚୧୨˚୧୨˚୧

TAGS!: @oddball21 @kaymariesworld @bloommushroom @readingtheentrails @thegoddamnfeels @theonefairygodmother @theflashesoflove @sweetderacine @opalthefrog @gwensfreak @shyladyfan @erablaise-blog @bellatrixsbrat @sunnyanon @emilynissangtr @lex13cm @sugipla @hasthebaconinhispants @deongocrazy @nocteangelus15 @eveymay @one-pining-queer @azu-zu @niceminipotato @hopelessly-sapphic @barbarasstar @enchantressb @syrenacrainn @im-a-carnivorous-plant @willowshadenox @aemilia19 @ladylarissaweems @scarlettssub @ladysdraga @willisnotmental @gela123 @h-doodles @zillahofviolets-bayolet @weemssapphic @the-bearr @amateurwritescm @dovesintherain

[littlecrittereli]

Random WK Headcanon dump

Here's a silly list of headcanons I have about team Wild Kratts, in no particular order other than what comes into my head first:

Heights:

Martin and Chris are based off their real heights and I filled everyone else in based off how they look standing next to each other. I exaggerated Aviva and Koki's height a little bit, just for some variety.

Koki is the tallest at 6' (182.9 cm)

Martin is 5'10 (177.8 cm)

Jimmy is 5'9 (175.3 cm)

Chris is 5'8 (172.7 cm)

and Aviva is the shortest at 5'3 (160 cm)

Reference:

Ages:

Martin is definitely the oldest at 25

Aviva is 24

Jimmy and Koki are both 23, Jimmy being a few months older

And Chris is runner up at 21

The reason for the small age gap is because Martin was ultimately the person that put together the Tortuga team when he graduated college, and he picked students that were also close to graduation at the time. Chris would have just been starting college, but would join them upon graduation because of his connection through Martin. Other freshmen at the time would not have qualified for the research grant.

Birthdays!!!

Martin: Dec 23rd (he's a capricorn)

Aviva: Nov 4th (She's a scorpio)

Jimmy: April 20th (He's a taurus)

Koki: August 27th (She's a virgo)

Chris: July 19th (He's a cancer)

Identities:

(Disclaimer this is referring to the fictional Wild Kratts animated characters ONLY. Not the actual people they are based on.)

Martin: he/him, bisexual. But his preference is women.

He's probably had a handful of girlfriends and a couple of boyfriends throughout high school and college, but unfortunately had too big of ambitions to settle down with anyone.

Aviva: she/her, bisexual. She doesn't have a preference.

She has probably been on like... 2 dates max. She has always been much more focused on her education and bettering her inventions than dating. Her only standard for a partnership is someone who can keep up with her intelligence. Or at least someone she can learn from and grow with.

Jimmy: he/him, straight.

He literally does not care, but he would probably kiss a man if the opportunity arose. Had a girlfriend in kindergarten and they spoke twice, but since she moved schools and they never officially broke up, he's still technically off the market.

Koki: she/they lesbian. SHE LIKES WOMEN

tried to date a man. regretted it. Has probably been in a couple semi-serious relationships, but didn't work out for various reasons. She's content to focus on her career for now but someday would love to be a mom.

Chris: he/they aroace

only proclaimed to have a crush on a girl in high school because everyone else was talking about crushes and he didn't want to feel left out. Doesn't really like to be touched in general. Would rather cut off his hand than be forced to hold someone else's in a non platonic way. When someone has a crush on him, he does not know how to respond so he literally just ignores them.

Silly Stuff:

-As a zoologist, Martin knows more about animal behaviors, classification, and identification. Meanwhile, Chris as a biologist knows more about the anatomy and general science of animals. For example, Martin would be able to explain the reasoning behind a firefly's glow while Chris would be able to explain the chemical reaction that makes the glow possible. And they are constantly sharing and learning from each other as well.

-Chris has glasses, he just doesn't really use them very often. They would get in the way of creature adventuring so he only wears them if he's reading or something. They aren't super crucial, it just helps with small words.

-Game nights are VERY serious on the Tortuga. Jimmy is suspiciously good at card/board games. He pretty much always wins. It's to the point where everyone else is on a team against him. Sometimes he lets them win and it has sent the entire team into a fight. Sorry has been banned in the Tortuga because of this.

-Koki's a huge theatre nerd. She participated in plays recreationally throughout high school, and will often hum or sing while she's doing a task.

-Martin plays the guitar and has a mediocre singing voice. It's nothing spectacular but he can carry a tune. Sometimes when the Tortuga is parked somewhere remote for the night, they will make a campfire and sing a few songs.

-Aviva has roller skates built into her shoes (SIDE NOTE: This is something we see very often in season 1 but they seemed to have forgotten about it??? or retconned it??? BUT I HATE IT BECAUSE THEY WERE SO COOL PLEASE BRING BACK THE ROLLER SKATES)

-Martin is a terrible driver. (The oldest sibling curse) He knows he's a terrible driver, but pretends he's not. Chris will usually try to take the driver's seat to prevent Martin from driving, but sometimes Martin beats him there. Will deflect any evidence of him being a bad driver. "That curb shouldn't have been there" Someone please revoke his license, he's a danger to society.

-Jimmy is definitely the best cook out of all of them. He makes food for the team most of the time, unless they are on a longer flight and he has to pilot. Koki and Chris are pretty competent chefs "Just read the recipe it's not that hard". Martin's basically limited to ramen noodles and microwave mac and cheese. Aviva, try as she might, can NOT cook. She will BURN water. (she always overcomplicates the recipes by trying to utilize an invention or something)

-Koki likes to crochet. She likes to keep her hands busy so whenever she's doing a rather boring task, like monitoring for bad weather/villains while the bros are out, she crochets.

-Jimmy gets insane jet lag, and since they are bouncing from different time zones all the time, he can never really catch up. Not to mention he has to stay up for irregular hours to fly the Tortuga. This is why he's always napping, and why the others usually leave him alone to sleep unless it's important.

[marshslovedone]

polyam relationship with Y/N, stan, kyle, kenny and cartman headcanons

✩.･*:｡≻───── ⋆🎀⋆ ─────.•*:｡✩

Okay so the main four has known Y/N since they were in kindergarten and grew up with each since

When they reached kindergarten that’s when the four boys realized that they all had a crush on Y/N

Which I feel like they all had a small rivalry with each other after they all realized that one day.

Like what happing in “basic cable” they all tried to one up each other in front of Sophie’s mom or just in general

Y/N is oblivious as she doesn’t really know why the four boys are doing so much for her but she isn’t complaining

That was until one day the start of summer break after sophomore year of high school you four went to the park next to the school and hung out for awhile until it got quiet which confused you and the four boys just stared at you with an awkward / embarrassment look

When you asked what was wrong they looked at each other they all collectively sighed before kyle spoke

✩.･*:｡≻───── ⋆🎀⋆ ─────.•*:｡✩

“Y/N we’ve been meaning to ask you something and please don’t get mad” kyle looked at the three boys as they gestured him to continue which he soon did.

“Y/N we’ve all had a crush on you since 4th grade and we really, really, love you and we really don’t you to choose between the four of us if you like us and..”

You gestured him to continue which kyle couldn’t and looked over at Stan.

“What kyle is trying to say is uhm..uh” stan didn’t have to words to say it. Neither did Kenny which he was sweating his balls off in nervousness. Then cartman spoke for all of them as he groaned in annoyance.

“What these fuckwads are trying to say is. Y/N we all want to be in a relationship at the same time. We want to start a polyamorous relationship with you. We’ve all thought about it and talked about it and if you are down do you want to do that..?”

✩.･*:｡≻───── ⋆🎀⋆ ─────.•*:｡✩

That’s how the relationship started. You felt joy since you’ve liked the four of them for a long time as well.

You were instantly on board but wanted to play it cool so you nodded a yes and let out small laughs which the four boys sighed in relief

Ever since that day. The first day of summer has always been special for me you five :)

It’s a pretty wholesome relationship, it’s basically just the same as your guys friendship just with kisses involved

The four boys aren’t dating each other btw they all just want to stay friends while they date you which you are fine with as well

You guys haven’t said anything in public. People just think you guys are just friends which they seem also suspicious because they would think you would be dating on of them?

Little did they know you’re dating all four of them!!

You always give the four boys equal amount of love and always invite them over which they absolutely adore.

They still fight sometimes, well mainly just kyle and cartman

“Cartman stop holding her so tight you’re gonna suffocate her!”

“But she’s so warm kahl!!!”

Kenny and stan just stare as they both hold you while kyle and cartman argue, plus they don’t even realize you’re out of cartman’s hold.

Cuddling is almost cute too!!

Cartman lays in the middle of the bed while you lay on his left side. Kyle spoons you from behind as stan then spoons kyle..while kenny then just lays on top of you and cartman.

The first time the five of you did this you guys didn’t say a word about it. The five of you continue to do this without a care in the world which is supper cute 💗

Overall pretty chaotic and wholesome 💕

✩.･*:｡≻───── ⋆🎀⋆ ─────.•*:｡✩

basing all of this off a story I have on quotev!! It’s called Full of Love !! It’s a polyamorous South Park story, in which reader had to move to California for a year and comes back to South Park in which she might rekindle her poly relationship with the main four or have her love expand and love different / more people!! It’s a wholesome book I can guarantee you that, link is in my pinned 💗

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTAH if I told my BFF, my sister is off limits?

🐎🤠

I (22FtM) have a BFF (22M) who has repeatedly said he's not made for settling down or any sort of long-term relationship. He hasn't used the word aromatic, though. I've known him since kindergarten, and when we were teenagers, I found out my younger sister (20F) had a crush on him.

My sister went off to college while me and my BFF looked after the farm. Now that my sister has graduated and moved back home, I'm worried she still has feelings for him. She's a hopeless romantic, and I'm worried he will break her heart.

So would I be the asshole if I told my BFF not to string my sister along and not to sleep with her?

What are these acronyms?

[xuqijie]

< new jeans as love tropes 𖥔 ͙ࣳ

# genre ; fluff, hints of angst

# tags ; ot4 x f!reader (no hyein), probably ooc but use your imagination okayy ! [requested]

< kim minji ๋࣭ # your sister’s bestfriend

spends all day in your house and never leaves it, just because she says that the wifi was better in your living room than hers.

spends all day in your house and never leaves it, just because she says that the wifi was better in your living room than hers.

spends all day in your house and never leaves it, just because she says that the wifi was better in your living room than hers.

doesn’t know the effect she has on you with her always being around your room like it’s her own.

you always had a crush on her but minji was your sister’s bestfriend, so naturally you were off limits for any relationship. but that doesn’t stop her from having feelings (not that she recognises them anyway).

minji will lie and say she was forced by hanni to stay by your side the whole day to protect you even though hanni didn’t say shit.

will deny having feelings for you and only starts to admit it when she sees you with another one of hanni’s friends 🙈🙈

probably ends up confessing in a super stupid way; like thinking you were asleep and minji just starts saying how much she likes you and how she got jealous seeing you with sunoo.

“minji, sunoo’s gay.”

“i didn’t know that! and does that mean you don’t like sunoo?”

“are you serious? i like you back, you idiot.”

< pham hanni ๋࣭ # rivals to lovers

will quite literally do anything to make sure she’s number one, and you’re not. like purposely sending you the wrong dance practice and embarrassing you on the day of the rehearsal. (maybe she does feel a little bad when she catches you crying in the toilet).

hanni doesn’t really know why she wants you to know she’s the best. maybe it’s because you two have been pitted against each other since you joined ador.

thinks you’re super pretty but can’t translate it well to korean and ends up just telling it to you straight in viet. too bad you think she was talking shit about you :(

disguises her jealousy as hatred for you. “y/n, i can’t believe you’re slacking off again. seriously, hanging out with jungwon is just going to make you even worse.”

“i’m not even hanging out with jungwon? what the hell is your problem?”

purposely makes you mad because it’s cute to her. but when you really get upset she feels so so bad and you will find chocolates in your bag the next day.

and when you get praised by the instructor, hanni can’t help but feel happy at your beaming expression. only for her smile to dim when jungwon congratulates you.

“see that, hanni? i finally beat you!” you would grin smugly at her and all hanni can do is wish quietly for you to continue talking to her.

so what does she do? suck up her pride and relish in the shocked expression you carried when she says, “i’m happy. you did well.” and leaves the practice room.

and hanni’s feelings are left undiscovered for another day while you are stunned.

< danielle marsh ๋࣭ # sunshine x grumpy

meets you on the first day of kindergarten and thinks you’re super mean after you tell her to leave you alone. but danielle is persistent and she really wants to befriend the grumpy girl that sits at the back of class.

calls you ‘her moon’ and it embarrasses you but secretly, you like it a lot. and her contact name is your phone is ‘my sunshine ☀️’.

it wasn’t until you two got older when you realised that you had feelings for danielle. but you didn’t want to act on them in fear of her rejecting you and losing your friendship forever, so you just keep quiet, hoping she catches on.

you also didn’t want danielle to choose between you and her other club friends, so you just sit alone during lunch. normally, danielle would join you but you sneak off before she finds you at your designated table.

of course dani gets confused when you start to distance yourself but she doesn’t know what to do. only until she gets ahold of you, she confronts you.

“why are you acting like this? i thought we were friends, y/nnie. and i’ve told you before, i don’t care about anyone else, i just want my moon back. please, y/n.”

and when you finally work things out, danielle smacks you on the shoulder and scolds you for keeping things from her. you deserve it but you also don’t deserve someone like dani.

the sweetest angel you’ll ever meet when you start dating. always brings you your favourite drinks when you’re studying, makes sure you’re well taken care of when you’re sick and tries her best to help you out when you’re feeling upset.

< kang haerin ๋࣭ # hates everyone but you

haerin is an enigma. a person you would describe as eccentric. she would repeat all the swear words you said, randomly stare blankly at you and sometimes steal your sweaters. she also bears uncanny resemblance to cats.

since you two live in the same dorm, whenever your personal friends come over, haerin will glare at them warily but when her eyes filter to you, her gaze softens and she waddles to your side for cuddles.

“even though you look like a cat doesn’t mean you have to actually act like one, kang haerin.”

“shut up, hyein.”

“no, hyein’s right, rinnie.”

“okay, y/nnie.”

[ven0moir]

ONE SIDED LOVE IN ST ... SPOILER ALERT: BYLER IS NOT ONE SIDED.

In S2, the show gave us examples on how they set up a requited vs one-sided love triangle ... and what's interesting about it was that Mike mirrored BOTH parties; the one who got their feelings reciprocated and the one that did not. Take a look at how it was blocked.

In the very first scene of the season, Lucas tells us what's going to happen; 'Princess Daphne' aka Max in this analogy, will end up with him (this was confirmed by the Duffers btw. This dialogue foreshadowed Lucas ending up with Max).

When they first see Max, she's introduced as the new student, aka, she is alone/has no friends. When Mike first saw Will, it was the first day of kindergarten and they were BOTH alone too. Then, Dustin and Lucas both approached Max and asked her to join their party. Mike approached Will and asked him to be his friend.

Mike is mirroring both Dustin AND Lucas, which is also why there were TWO Venkmans but Mike insisted they can only be one. (In meta dialogue, only one would get together with their love interest.) Now, I believe this is all FORESHADOWING Mike and Will ending up together (I don't think Mike was aware/had feelings for Will yet)

When they all go trick or treating, Dustin and Lucas end up spending the night with Max while Mike ends up spending it with Will back in his basement. (It is unclear how long they all were trick or treating for/how long Will stayed over with Mike but since it was established they'd be picked up at 9pm, I'm going to assume that's how long they were together)

Now this is where things shift a bit and it is then Will who mirrors Lucas; they both tell their love interest about the supernatural, and ask them to keep it a secret from others.

Then we see Dustin find Dart and get distracted from his crush on Max by taking care of someone mysterious that is unknown to him but fascinating and intriguing. Sounds familiar?

(I might have to make a whole ENTIRE post on this alone tbh, since there's a limit to how many screenshots we can post but boy, these parallels are quite telling.)

In Mike's case, he also sensed that El would be the key to finding Will. Now before you call me a weirdo for this comparison you need to remember that the Duffers did call Eleven and Mike the 'ET and Elliot' of their show. There are blatant ET & Elliot/Mike & Eleven parallels in the show. So Dustin & Dart/Mike & Eleven parallels were done intentionally.

I mean, even in an interview they said Mike felt like he was taking care of a puppy or something like that, which these parallels bring home. What I think they are trying to portray is their CURIOSITY, not any sort of 'love at first sight' instance. Hence why Mike also has parallels to Benny in the way he met Eleven, because he did see her as a person and not some sort of 'pet' or experiment. (I will actually make a post about this since I feel like it deserves the context, but we'll leave it at this for now).

The party split up after they met in the AV Club to discuss Dart. Lucas and Max got closer, Will and Mike got closer, and Dustin went off on his own, then eventually ran into Steve.

And then when the season closes, this happens. Now what's most interesting about this is how Mike is mirroring Lucas. Eleven showed up and he gets to dance with her instead, just like Lucas is dancing with Max (and he even copies Lucas asking Max to dance).

However, he is also mirroring DUSTIN.

Mike looks sad/conflicted because Will is now dancing with a girl, and we see Dustin staring sadly into the distance as Lucas dances with Max. We also see Dustin dance with Nancy-someone he idealized and at some point had a small crush on, but that eventually he will also let go of in favor of someone he connects with better, just like Mike is dancing with Eleven.

I think that what this set up ultimately foreshadows is that Mike's relationship with Eleven was never meant to be a long-term thing. Whether you think Mike is gay or bi, his feelings with Eleven never developed in this way because they were never able to fully connect romantically.

If we think about how Dustin, the one in the one-sided end of things, closed the season, then we would expect Will closing up S4 similarly, correct? They had Dustin close the season dancing with someone else after getting his heart crushed, and Max with her actual love interest, Lucas.

The last time we saw him, he was moving on from Max, so it wasn't a huge surprise that the next season he had a new love interest. It was expected given how S2 ended for him! His crush on Max was hopeless.

It is worth mentioning that Dustin only knew Max for a WEEK and that storyline was still handled with a lot of respect for his feelings. The show didn't make fun of him for it nor did they punish him. He didn't even get flat out rejected-He never confessed to Max nor did we see his feelings develop beyond just a simple crush. But it was clear how Max had chosen Lucas. Dustin didn't need to tell Max that she was The Heart for her to confess to Lucas, did he?

So if we think about Will ... he ended the season standing in a literal field of flowers next to MIKE. If Byler was truly one-sided, Will would've closed the season very apparently MOVING ON from Mike, with Mike very apparently CHOOSING El.

Instead, the show set them up to still be a TEAM in S5. They left the season in a literal cliff hanger in this regard because Byler getting together is going to be HUGE. I am assuming they will go all out. And I honestly cannot wait to see what they do with them.

[polaroidbills]

something great.

"i want you here with me. like how i pictured it. so i don't have to keep imagining."

genre! - angsty, fluff too, mega slice of life

paring! -non-idol!beomgyu x fem!reader

synopsis! - these days, love is always glorified in movies and books. but it's not always like that. sometimes it can be amazing and instant. other times, love can be damaging and complicated. but is it ever too much to ask for something great? - inspired by something great by one direction -

warnings! - not proof read, kiss (kinda), teeny tiny swearing (lmk if i missed anything)

word count! - 1 572

author's note! - first little imagine after my hiatus!! this is literally me rn (minus the dream part). he literally has a bird too and he doesn't play basketball but hockey. anyway hope you enjoyed!

i've always been into romantic-comedies. whether it's books, movies, or shows. they're my favourite. they allow me to get away from reality and slip into my imaginary world. a world so great, filled with love and joy. it's like an over powered hide and seek spot.

but sometimes i get fooled. sometimes the love shown through these films and novels aren't real. love in reality is never how they are in the movies.

boys don't fly across the world to see you. boys don't put on a musical performance as a way to apologize. boys don't join the drama club just because you did.

i just wished he did.

choi beomgyu is his name. he's been my crush since kindergarten. i'm im grade 8 now. soon i'll be graduating into high school. he doesn't know. he's never known. and i don't plan on letting him know. how could i?

he charming, funny, caring, and so much more. the way he rakes his hands through his hair, the way his laugh is contagious to everyone around him, the way he can always lighten up the mood, the way he isn't only socially successful but academically successful, and the way just his presence is comforting.

my feelings for him never leave. even if i try my best to force them out, even if he's dating someone else, even if we go on summer break. they never leave.

it's now friday, 10 days before graduation. i sit myself next to him because my teacher changed the seating arrangement.

"hey y/n!" his cheerful voices rings through my ears.

"morning beomgyu!" i respond.

"did you do the math homework?"

"i did yeah. you?"

"uh nope," he scratches his head.

we often have these small conversations. just short and casual. just a hi and hello. usually it would end here. i guess not this time.

"haha do you need help with it?" i ask.

"actually yeah. i don't really get it," an embarrassed look plays on his face.

"you know, i could help. i don't really mind."

"really? you would do that?"

"of course, i have nothing else to do anyway."

"okay sure! how about after school? i have to carpool with soobin and yunjin though, if that's okay with you?"

soobin, beomgyu, yunjin, and more of my classmates live on the same street. so they often carpool together.

yunjin is one of my best friends. she's one of the only one's that know about my crush. but ut weirds her out because she has like a sibling relationship with beomgyu.

"sure let me just text my parents!"

"great!"

and just like that i have plans. plans with him. i know it's just studying, but it's something? i mean, i can barely look him in the eye, let alone help him with math.

the school day goes by in a blur. i can't get my mind off of what's happening after school.

its 3:15, 15 minutes before school ends. i go to the bathroom to freshen up a little, bringing my emergency bag. in which holds a hair brush, mascara, blush, bronzer, highlighter, and a lip gloss.

i go back into class, as everyone starts packing their backpacks, getting ready to leave. i too get ready to leave.

3:27, 3 minutes until the bell. we're already lined up waiting.

"hey y/n!" soobin call my name. i walk over to them.

"you're coming with us?" soobin asks.

"yeah, is that okay?"

"for sure we have an extra seat anyway."

"okay cool," i smile.

the bell rings and we walk out into the parking lot.

"hey mom! um y/n is riding with us, is that okay?" soobin asks his mother.

"of course! come on in sweetie!"

beomgyu gets in first onto the far left seat.

"sorry y/n, you're in the middle," beomgyu says, as they already have assigned seats.

"thats fine," i climb into the middle and soobin gets in too, closing the door.

the drive is quiet, with only the low radio playing. but uts a short drive.

i've never been this close to beomgyu. it's quite awkward but also comfortable in a way.

the car halts and we climb out of the car, walking over to beomgyu's house.

"i'm home!" he unlocks the door. and his mom hurries to the door.

"hi y/n! come in, come in," his mom smiles.

as we walk in, i notice the lovely furniture and layout of the home.

"you have a very nice home mrs. choi!"

"thank you! but please call me diana."

"okay mom stop mingling, let's go upstairs," beomgyu interrupts. and we make our way up.

i notice all of the family and chcildhood photos on the walls and tables. cute.

"no funny business!"

beomgyu rolls his eyes and shuts his bedroom door.

"okay so where should we start?" i ask.

"well i couldn't really understand question 1?"

"okay we'll start there," we set down our books on the foors and start studying.

a couple hours later, dinner is called. we walk downstairs to a neatly setted table and the smell of delicious food.

i sit next to beomgyu and diana serves the food.

"thank you! this looks delicious."

"of course! cooked a special dinner for a special day!"

"mom!" beomgyu makes a weird look to his mom.

"oops- anyway, y/n what wer eyou guys studying up there?"

"oh beomgyu needed help on some math."

the dinner goes by really well. i feel like diana and i have a connection, as we were talking the whole time.

we go back upstairs to continue our work.

"hey don't you have a bird?" i ask him.

"yeah, his name is toto."

"can i see him?"

"sure but be careful, he isn't good around new people."

we go into the birds room and there's toto in his cage.

beomgyu slowly takes him out.

"here put your finger out, like this," he demonstrates the movement. and i follow. "toto up!"

toto moves onto my hand carefully.

"woah! toto's never good around new people! he must like you! toto kiss," he point to my cheek as toto places his beak on it.

it's a fun moment. laughter and smiles. this is why i like him.

he puts toto back into his cage and we go to his room.

"hey i'm tired of studying can't we stop now?" beomgyu says after a few more minutes of studying.

"yeah sure what do you wanna do?"

"hmm i don't know? we haven't really talked all lot, i wanna get to know you more."

"oh well what do you wanna know?"

"do you have any hobbies?"

"yeah, i love reading and watching movies and shows i guess?"

"oh cool what kind?"

"mainly rom-coms. what are your hobbies?"

"well i play basketball for one. i also really love music and playjng the guitar."

"oh cool i love music too! who's your favourite artist?"

"i love taylor swift and seventeen."

"me too!"

silence falls between us, but it's not awkward. i make eye contact with him – something i never do. the tension between us is strong and the space between us is small. i can slightly feel his breath on my skin. his eyes travel to my lips and back to my eyes, and the same thing goes for mine. his moves in closer, now the space is really small. i can definitely feel his breath on me. he moves in even closer.

"y/n?"

"yeah?"

"i really really like you, for soo long. i like you y/n."

"y/n! y/n! y/n! wake up! you're gonna be late for school!"

i awaken by the sound and nudging of my brother.

"what?"

"you're gonna be late come on!"

of course it was just a dream. it always is. just my stupid imagination and mind. he would never like me. his way out of my league. why would he even like me? there's so many other girls too.

my mind is occupied with these negative thoughts, untily brother yells once again.

i shake my head to brush the thoughts away and quickly get ready for school, walking straight out the door.

the whole walk to school my head is filled with these thoughts and reminders.

love isn't real. it never was. i was just to delusional and blind to know it. true love is just in the movies and books. those scenarios never exist in real life, only in fictional films and novels, of course. no matter how much i imagine and hope and dream, nothing will change. it's just something i ask and beg for.

but is it ever too much to want someone with me, like in the books and movies, like how i picture a true love is?

when will i be able to stop imagining?

why do i still have to keep imagining?

is it too much to ask for something great?

@1-800-143 please DO NOT copy, plagiarize, or repost any of my work.

[ms-no1kpopstan]

Me or her?

Niki x reader

NOT PROOF READ

synopsis: you set your bff Riki up with Eunchae, one of your friends, on a date.. but what happens when you realise that you might have caught feelings for him along the way. So who will he choose, you or Eunchae?

PART ONE

Nishimura Riki has been your best friend since kindergarten and you don’t remember the last time you went out without him. It was safe to say that you did everything together. You’ve been through crushes, breakups, and all of that stuff together. You were in college now.

And, here you are texting him whether he would like to go on a date with your friend Eunchae. And he said yes. That answer was one you did not expect at all. ‘Okay, sure’ you type into your chat. You already asked Eunchae and she said yes as well. You told them a bit about each other since they'd never met before, just to have a few convo starters and prevent very awkward silences…

It was now the day of their date and you took it upon yourself to find Riki the perfect outfit and damn, did it look good. You chose a black shirt with his favourite anime’s print on it and some baggy blue jeans. It looked perfect. While you sent him off, you actually felt like a proud mom who was watching her son graduate…

You were super happy about this and god, did you hope this went well. He always told you how it always seemed like he pushed girls away when actually he was just trying to get to know them before a relationship. So this was a chance for him to redeem himself and finally get a girl… you couldn’t wait till they got together and you could tell everyone about you playing their Cupid.

Now you just needed to wait until he got back in a few hours.. a few hours without him wouldn’t be that hard, would it?

You got off your bed and made your way to the couch to watch tv but you just couldn’t without him there to watch with you. So you resorted to scrolling through social media with a cup of instant ramen next to you. A FEW HRS LATER

You hear the keys to your apartment jangling and watch as Riki walks in with a big smile on his face

“Phew,” you think “it must have gone well if he’s smiling so much”.

“y/nnie, the date went so well, we talked a lot, shared a bowl of ice cream and we walked around the place for a bit! I hope we could do that again…” he says, happily. “That’s great riks, did you get her number too??”, you ask, excitedly. “Yeah, I did and oh my god she’s so pretty! Like I know you told me she was pretty but she was just more beautiful than I thought!!!!”

“Okay that’s really great ki! And also, wanna watch that new kdrama with me? I’ve been wanting to watch it for a while…” you say with a soft tone towards the end.

“Okay sure Y/nnie! Even I've been wanting to watch that one”

You make some popcorn and sit down next to each other on the couch, your head on his shoulder and your fingers intertwined(in a friendly way of course….)

Physical affection wasn’t something rare in your friendship and that’s why a lot of people thought you two were dating. Well, all you had to say about today was it was a great day! Riki’s date went great, and you were watching a new kdrama with him too! What more could you ask for?

•____________________________________________ A/n End of part one! And also tell me if you want to be added to the taglist. By the way i Don’t have a schedule for updates so it will be a bit irregular! pls interact with the story if you want. Re blogs, comments and likes are appreciated! Hope you liked it! And this is my first series so pls keep that in mind before giving hate comments. Also, rude and judgmental comments will be deleted and blocked. sorry for the long note!

TAGS; @leaderwonim @mandukkul @copyhanni @nikiswifereal27 @stariikis @ad0rechuu @copyhanni @jungkit @rk1stars @rikihqq @wonryllis

DOUBLE UPDATE YAYYYY okay bye!

A/n pt 2 @ms-no1kpopstan’s not yours. Please do not translate, or repost without my permission and it must have my credits if so.

[yelenasdiary]

Lifetime Crush

Pairing: Kate Bishop x Reader

Summary: Kate has been your crush since you could remember, she amazes you in every way and sometimes you found yourself flirting with her, thinking she felt the same until she brought her boyfriend to meet you.  

| Fluff & Angst | 1.7K | Light swearing |18+ Light Smut!

AC: You guys always have such great ideas for requests! I love this one!!

*This is a request from my old blog*

Katherine Elizabeth Bishop better known as Kate Bishop or the woman who makes your heart skip a beat just when you hear her name. Let’s just go back a minute, Kate and you have been best friends since kindergarten, your mothers being the best of friends, so it was no surprise that you and Kate become best friends. Growing up with Kate was full of laughter and fun, she made school bare able, she always managed to make you laugh if you were down in the blues or bed ridden with a winter cold. The two of you spent most of your time together, weekends and school holidays were usually the two of you having sleep overs and going on little adventures. 

When puberty hit and you were exploring your sexuality like any normal teenager you quickly discovered that Kate meant more to you than just a friendship. She was everything to do you and nobody ever came close to catching your eye the way she did. Although, scared it would ruin the years of friendship you kept it to yourself and acted as if your feelings for the brunette never existed. Here and there she’d flirt with you which confused you, not knowing if she was just playing around or being serious. She knew you liked girls and she never judged you for it.

“Honestly I could treat you so much better than her” Kate comments as you boost about the new selfie one of your favourite celebrities posted on Instagram. “I don’t doubt that for a second but she’s so fucking pretty!” you replied, playing along with Kate’s comment. 

“What exactly is your type?” she asked. You froze wanting to turn to her and say her name, but you knew you couldn’t. “Uhm, honestly, I haven’t thought about it much. I think if you have a wonderful sense of humour, a big heart and aren’t up yourself and disrespectful then I’d be interested I guess?” you looked up from your phone. 

“Come on, Y/n you’ve gotta have a type” she said, “like, I love a man who dreamy eyes, beautiful hair, and lips to die for!” she gave you an example, her words hurt knowing you weren’t her type. “Oh. Well, I guess brunettes with captivating eyes” you replied. Kate rolled over to her stomach while she flipped the page of her magazine before looking at you, “so would I be your type?” she asked suddenly. 

You felt your heart skip a beat once again. She was looking at you with a soft smile and again you so badly wanted to say yes but you held back. “Well, you’re my best friend” you mumbled, “wouldn’t it be weird?” you asked. Kate shook her head, “I don’t think so. I mean we’re too good of friends to let a relationship get in the way, right?” 

“Right” you returned your attention to your phone. It was moments like that when she battered her eyes at you and asked such questions that made you think that maybe she liked you the same way, but you didn’t want to ask her and if she said no than you’d be so embarrassed. 

“Oh, I forgot to ask, can Cameron come over for movie tonight?” she asked you. A name you’ve never heard before, “Who?” you asked. “Oh, I totally forgot, he’s a guy I’ve been seeing” she spoke. Your heart sunk, breaking into a million pieces but who were you to say no? “Uh, sure, I don’t see why not” you threw a fake smile her way. She jumped off your bed and stepped out of your room to call him.

----

“Y/n, this is Cameron” Kate introduced you to the tallish stranger. He was exactly what Kate had described earlier. Beautiful hair, dreaming eyes and lips she would die for. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you” he smiled, his teeth perfectly in line. “Kate doesn’t shut up about you” he joked. “Oh, she’ll chew your ear off you” you joked with a fake smile. Kate noticed your smile disappearing rather quickly. 

“Hun, why don’t you go make some popcorn for us?” Kate pointed towards the kitchen before he followed her requests. 

“Y/n, what’s wrong?” Kate turned to you once Cameron was no longer in sight.

“Huh? Nothing” you smiled once more, fake of course. 

“You’re lying. Do you not like him?” she asked.

“What? No, Kate he seems great. I’m just tired and got a headache” you lied. Although Cameron was nice, you were just salty. 

“Are you sure? Because I can ask him to leave” she offered. 

“Don’t be silly! It’s fine, he’s great” you walked off into the living room before she could speak another word. 

As the movie went on, you couldn’t keep your eyes from glaring over at the couple, his arm around her while she interlocked her fingers with his. The giggles she made when he made a joke or when he would kiss the top of her head from time to time send you into a pit of jealously. Unable to take it anymore you stood from the armchair you sat in. 

“I’m going to call it a night. It was nice to meet you Cameron, Kate, I’ll talk to you tomorrow” you smiled at the two before making your way to Kate’s front door. 

“Y/n, wait” Kate said from behind you. You turned around and looked at her. “Somethings wrong, talk to me” she spoke. 

“Kate, nothing is wrong I just don’t want to be around the two of you, enjoy your night” you grabbed your coat from the hanger by the door. 

“What do you mean?” she frowned. 

“I’m happy for you, I am, I’m glad you found the guy with beautiful hair and lips to die for. I just don’t want to be around it; I hope you understand” you explained. 

“I’m sorry, you’re upset because I have a boyfriend?  That’s not my problem Y/n. I can’t believe you’re being childish right now” she scoffed. 

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow” you opened the door. 

“Don’t bother!” Kate spat, clothing the door after you. 

You got home and could help but cry to yourself. You let your jealous get the best of you and made a fool of yourself.

----

Kate tried to call you multiple times a week after that little argument you had with her but ashamed of yourself and the way you acted; you’d been ignoring her. Letting her calls go to voice mail, her texts go unread and pretending you weren’t home when you heard her knocking even though you swore, she could hear your TV on. 

All her texts were the same, “are you okay?”, “please call me, I’m sorry”, “Y/n please don’t ignore me” etc. 

“Y/n are you here?” you heard Kate’s voice travel from your apartment’s front door. Then it hit you, you gave her a spare key! Sliding out of your bed you walked out and met her in the hall. 

“What are doing Kate?” you sighed, waiting for her to lecture you. 

“I’m worried about you, you’ve been ignoring me for weeks” she explained, you walked by her on the way to the kitchen. 

“I’m sorry, I made a fool of myself, and I didn’t want you feel like it was your fault” you explained. 

“You didn’t make a fool of yourself, you’re my best friend. I love you no matter way” she said, “I just want to know what happened” she added. 

“I can’t” you mumbled. Kate walked over to you, “you can. What happened” she repeated. 

Looking to her eyes, you lost yourself like you always had, she was the woman with beautiful hair, dreamy eyes, and lips you would die for. “I don’t want to ruin our friendship Kate” you spoke. 

Little did you know that Kate knew you better than you thought, she always knew you had a crush on her, but only recently did she notice how serious it was for you. She found herself becoming distance with Cameron and eventually told him things wouldn’t work. She loved how you cared more for your friendship than a relationship so she took it upon herself to show you nothing could ruin what you two had. 

Kate’s lips crashed against yours before you had time to register what was happening. You pulled her closer as she deepened the kiss. Her tongue exploring your mouth while her hands cupped your face, pushing you against the fridge deepening the kiss even more. 

“Kate” you whispered her lips once you both pulled away for air. “Shhh” she replied before her lips attacked your neck, biting ever softly. Your hands roamed her body as you moaned softly. Once she left a few marks she spung you around, lifting you up onto the counter before lifting your shirt over your head. 

“I was stupid” she spoke before attacking your neck again, your right hand running through her hand, “I’m sorry” she said between kisses from your neck to your collarbone. “Kate” you said, cupping her face to look at you. Her hand ran up your exposed thigh. You’d only been wearing an oversized t-shirt and panties. “What is love?” she asked, her hand getting closer to your dripping core. “Are you sure about this?” you asked. 

She moved your panties to the side, running her fingers through your folds causing you to moan. “What’s your type?” she whispered before kissing your lips again. “You” you said against her lips. She rubbed circles on your bundle of nerves pulling another moan from you. “Kate, say it” you grabbed her arm, stopping her actions. Kate looked you in your eyes, “I want you; I like you; I didn’t see it before, but nobody makes me smile you do, nobody gives me butterflies like you do, I hated you ignoring me all because you were scared to tell me how you felt” she explained. 

“You knew?” 

“You confirmed it when you left my apartment that night” 

“This isn’t going to ruin anything?” you asked, just to be sure. 

“If it was, I wouldn’t have my hand down there” she smirked. 

You crashed your lips on hers once more, you felt her smile against your lips. “Not here though” you said. 

“Bedroom?” 

“yes” you smiled. 

Taglist: @red1culous | @bentleywolf29 | @natasha-belova | @kiwiana145 |

[bluedalliances]

Heyyyyyyy, could u rec some nb/queer steddie?

Hell yes! Here are some of my favorite wibbly wobbly gendery wimey fics bc I need someone who will yell with me about them. Also, I'll leave the @ of the people who wrote them (at least the ones I could find), so you can follow them.

she likes the boys in the band (i'm her all time favorite) by @formosusiniquis

Oh, boi this fic. I spent a whole night reading because it was just that good. I regret nothing.

So, Steve and Robin go to see Corroded Coffin at the hideout and somehow fall for Eddie and Chrissy. Oh, also, Steve and Robin can read each other's minds. Ft. she/her/he/him Robin and Steve, HOH Steve, flirty Chrissy, Eddie dedicating songs to Steve and making DnD NPCs based on him, and Chrissy as Steve's cousin. Just, so so so lovely.

50k | Rated T

Also by them, since I couldn't choose between two fics I adore:

if you like this you might also like: me

This is a one shot where Steve works in a library and starts exchanging notes with Eddie, who leaves comments on Steve's recommendations. Not only is soft and amazingly written, but the books they reference are amazing at making the narrative move, I even added the ones I didn't know to my TBR. Gender is not heavily discussed or central here, but that's something I personally enjoy so, yeah. 9k | Rated T

Just like Holy Mary by @hellabifurious

A slice-of-life-ish, established relationship, found family fic where Steve explores gender and everything he was taught about being a man. Ft. Nail polish, makeovers, girl's nights, gender discussions, Steve being very, very loved.

28k | Rated T

took you for a working boy by pukner

Where Eddie tells Steve he's gay and, for some reason, that breaks Steve's heart. Ft. The end of the world, radio host Eddie, mutual crush, gender crisis, nb Stevie, just lots of wonderful stuff.

43k | Rated M

I've seen lots of recs for this one and it's really wonderful, another great fic from the same writer ft genderqueer Steve is: off the beaten path (ongoing series)

the queer kids of hawkins series by @locallmann

I've seen people talking about the first book in this series, L is for linoleum (and nothing else), but not so much for the second one, lady stardust, and it's amazing.

On how the older queer kids in Hawkins find each other, their identities, and love. Ft. Trans Eddie, NB Stevie, side ronance, queer solidarity, mom friend Steve, rocky horror as bonding, it has everything. Also, wonderfully tagged, everything you need to know is right there.

36k + 6k | Rated M and T

sit on my lap (tell me what you want) by kaleinope

Where Steve invites Eddie to spend Christmas on a cabin, and he realizes maybe his crush is not really unrequited. Ft. side Buckingham, game night, stolen sweaters, sweet and not angsty misunderstanding.

11k | Rated E | Do not have unprotected sex, children

Espresso Never Tasted so Sweet (Until I Stole it from Your Lips) by SerpentSunrise

Modern au where Steve is a barista and has a crush on one of the regulars. Here, again, gender is not a central theme. Ft. Steve being a little scared of putting himself out, tease Eddie, and lovely references to Icarus. So so good.

The author also has an ongoing work with trans Eddie, where Steve is touch starved. Check it out!

4k | Rated T

take it easy on me by the wonderful @tak-cajaz

Au where Steve is a kindergarten teacher and has a crush on Max's dad. It's a shame he's married. (No, he's not, don't worry). Ft. Supportive Robin, flirty Eddie, absolute sunshine Chrissy and cute kids. Also, misunderstandings, mutual pinning, overthinking and soft encounters.

Honestly, I'd rec everything by Kat, their writing is amazing and heartwarming, I always love every word on her fics. Check their work <3

8k | Rated T

My Favorite Form of Loving by indelicate

This is the first work in their Steddie dads series. It's Steve and Eddie's kid first day at preschool and they support each other through the anxiety of letting her go, it's really, really sweet. Ft. Trans Eddie, accepting enough community, soft dads steddie, dio references and a strong girl.

3k | Rated T

I hope you enjoy these, if you want more just let me know <3

[diamond-vic]

In the light of the newly revealed Marcy’s Journal pages, I am imploring the Amphibia fandom as a whole to please keep in mind the core of the show is the girls’ struggle with their friendship, not repressed/ unknown romantic feelings

Aka: an aromantic amphibia fan shares their thoughts on the importance of the girls’ friendship as the core of everything (including possible relationships between them)

As a whole, I see far more content of Sashannarcy than I do of anything else in the show, and while I love the ship to death, it does gloss over many important things in the show. I’ve seen repeated mentions on how the girls’ actions in certain circumstances were because of how ‘down bad’ they were for the others, which leaves a sour taste in my mouth. This is not how it is in canon; they do not do anything just because of crushes (at least, nothing major and life changing)

To start with, addressing things in the journal. Admiring others, adoring their company above all others, even calling them ‘loves’ is not inherently romantic (I’m rather sure I have either called, or been called, this between my friends)! While it can be, and while I encourage you to see it that way if you wish, saying there is no other explanation is just.. untrue??

There are queerplatonic feelings, for one, which do not get brought up nearly as much as a possible ‘explanation’ for lack of a better term, and also friends who function in relationship like non-blood family members. As an Aromantic person whose friends are my entire world, it stings to see so many things with the messaging that what Marcy does is so substantial, and so driven by emotion, that she HAS to be in love with Anne and Sasha to have done it. It comes across that she wouldn’t have made the decisions she did if she wasn’t. This places friendships as less of an emotional investment, and so less prone to irrational, emotionally charged actions, which is blatantly untrue. My life was majorly affected when a best friend of mine moved away when I was in middle school, because he was one of few friends I had, and I didn’t know how to deal with it. I didn’t adjust in a way that allowed me to recover and grow past it. There was nothing romantic about that relationship, but it shaped my middle school life and continues to have effects on my present. The circumstances are similar enough to Marcy that I feel for her pain. There’s no reason why Marcy’s feelings couldn’t be similar, no romantic feelings involved whatsoever

Furthermore, romantic feelings are (from what I understand), at least initially, out of the havers control, and may cause them to behave in ways maybe they typically wouldn’t. An actual relationship, on the other hand, whether platonic, romantic, queerplatonic, or anything else, is a choice of genuine devotion.

What Marcy does in Amphibia is a choice. She chooses to take matters into her own hands, because she doesn’t want her relationships with Anne and Sasha to change or end. Their role in her life are as constants, pillars she cannot live without, who love and protect her and who she adores. These are kids who have been friends since kindergarten. That is 8 or so years of being in each other’s lives, through who knows how many hardships off screen. That is a very special kind of friendship. While, yes, of course something like that can lead to a relationship, it needs to be seen as that; a very special friendship that becomes a different kind of relationship!

I want to make it very clear that I’m not trying to be one of those ‘why are you shipping this, just let friends be friends’ people! I just think that, for a show like Amphibia that is so heavily centered around deconstructing and rebuilding unhealthy friendships, it is important to pay respect to those friendships. The show is a wonderful representation of how friendships can be at the core of your life and guide your actions, just as family or other relationships could be. No matter how you view these characters (platonic, romantic, or some flavor of queerplatonic as I do), it is their friendship at the beginning of it all, and it is the want to preserve that friendship that guides the characters’ actions within the show. I’m not delusional and I do see how gay the journal is so far, of course! You can look at Marcy gushing over her friends in the journal and say ‘that seems gay!’, without also saying ‘the major actions she did were because she is in love’

I hope this is coherent enough and makes sense! I feel very strongly for this show and its characters, and I just can’t help but feel some of the things I’ve seen with the Marcy journal especially miss the point of the show sometimes. Maybe I just see things different than others since I am aroace, but I felt the need to throw in my 2 cents. Maybe someone feels similar? If nobody sees this, at least I got it out of my brain (and as an aroace queerplatonic Anne and Marcy believer, I want to spread my propaganda a little too)

TLDR: The trio’s friendship is the core of the show and the major actions they take, and claiming these actions have to have romantic origin downplays platonic relationships’ ability to be powerful and devastating. At the same time, shipping them is fun and meaningful as long as it isn’t framed as the motivation for those major actions, and rather as a result of the long standing bond the characters have shared for the better part of a decade (their friendship is the core of any sort of further feelings)

[shadow-heleyna]

The Accident... (Angst, Style [Stan x Kyle])

Chapter 1: My super best friend...

Warning: mentions alc0h0l, a little bit of s3xual content, and almost k!lling themselves

    Me and Stan have been super best friends since kindergarten. Stan has always been in an on and off relationship with Wendy ever since 3rd grade. Every time Wendy broke up with Stan he would get depressed and drink a lot more than what he usually does. I mean a LOT. One time, he almost drank himself to death because of how much he drank due to how depressed he was. He's in love with Wendy, but I get depressed and pissed every time Stan gets back together with Wendy.

    Everytime when me, Stan and Wendy are together. Stan ignores me and barely talks to me anymore. I get jealous every time when they talk, hang out, hug, and kiss. I wish they would just break up for good, but I know Stan would get depressed again and start to drink a lot again. I don't want him to drink too much and almost k!ll himself again.

    Wendy causes all of this, and I know she doesn't love him. He's too in love with her to realize this. No one else cares about his relationship except me. Kenny might care, but he's too focused on t!t!es and d!cks. They don't know how much I care about him. No one knows... Wendy doesn't know... Stan doesn't know.

    They don't know that I love him… I’m in love with him... my super best friend. I wish he would be in love with me too, but he just loves me as a friend. I had loved him since I was in 4th grade, but it was just like a crush. In 8th grade, I realized I was in love with him. He's with Wendy, and he's in love with her. I know he would never love me in that way...

[wakeupthemembersofbylernation]

We talk a lot about whether Mike loves El romantically or platonically, but we don’t talk enough about what Mike even knows about El as a person?

In Season 1, Mike and El spent a lot of time bonding with each other, but it wasn’t made explicitly romantic until he kissed her at the end of the season. It was a mixture of genuine friendship, a sort of adopted sibling bond, and a need to keep her around so she could help the boys find Will. El had never had a true friend before, so Mike was the first person she bonded with that wasn’t Brenner. There’s also all the heavy E.T. imagery, which gets at the heart of how he understands his relationship. El was someone to protect, to care for, to look after. A project, if you will.

This drives home one of Mike’s defining traits: he needs to feel needed, he needs to be the protector, he needs to be the hero. Just like Elliot felt it was his duty to keep E.T. safe from the shady government agents, Mike felt it was his duty to keep El safe from “the bad men.” Keep in mind that she barely talked at this point, so Mike could only learn bits and pieces about the pain she experienced. He taught her so many new things: words, social customs, friendship, the concept of romance, even what would become her favorite food, eggo waffles! All of that comes from Mike, who genuinely cared for her and possibly even developed puppy crush feelings for her by the end of the season (depending on how you interpret things). Mike learns that El is good, that she is powerful, that she is brave, and that she’s kind. But El doesn’t have a fully formed worldview or personality yet.

In Season 2, Mike and El are separated for most of the season, and he spends most of his time with Will (someone he already knows deeply because they’ve been friends since Kindergarten). It’s during this season, while living with Hopper, that El builds off what Mike taught her and learns more about the world, largely through watching TV (which we know is not a fully accurate picture of the world). She also learns more about herself and her powers during the infamous Lost Sister episode. Mike spends everyday that year calling her and trying to reach her, but again, there’s not much he knows about her. Their reunion is sweet, and their Snowball dance is genuinely wholesome (despite the inherent sadness of seeing Will look longingly at them). This is presumably the start of something new, right? Wrong.

In Season 3, billed as “one summer [that] can change everything,” Mike initially spends every waking moment with El… making out with her. Which at first glance makes sense, given that he’s a teenage boy, and also given that she’s not really supposed to be caught in the outside world. But there’s two big problems with this: one, rather than integrating her with his friends, he isolates her from the rest of the group. Much has been written about this. But to me what is even more significant is that he doesn’t take advantage of this time to get to know more about her as a person. And this is partially due to the fact that she doesn’t really know who she is as a person. He tries to make her laugh by playing music during their make out sessions, but it’s clear they don’t really have the same tastes: not in music, not in hobbies, not in much of anything.

It’s a whole lot of nothing, which to be fair is what a lot of early teenage relationships are. But it contrasts with how Lumax is depicted, and they are also another teenage couple. Max and Lucas know a lot about each other. It even contrasts with how Dustin and Suzie are depicted, and they are not even in the same state! It also once again contrasts with how his friendship with Will is depicted: one of depth, history, and layers of passion. He can talk about real things with Will, play D&D with Will, look longingly at Will’s drawings, and go on movie hangouts double dates with Will.

It’s only after the break up, and El bonding with Max, that El begins to discover more of her personal vibe and things that she likes. She fully admits to Max that she doesn’t know how to know what she likes. Mike gets upset with Max for “corrupting her,” but all she’s doing is helping El to find herself. He should be happy about this, if he truly loves her romantically!

Supernatural chaos starts going down, so Mike is forced to work alongside El again despite the break up. He tries to connect with her (blank makes you crazy, etc.) but while it’s clear she likes being around him, they aren’t on the same emotional or romantic page. It’s during the final battles that Mike can step into the role he’s most comfortable with: being there for El as she steps into her superhero role. He says “I love her” to a crowd of his friends, but this love is closely tied to her powers and the things that make her special. “I can’t lose her again” connects to his need to be a protector. And at the end, when she loses her powers, and she moves away (along with Will), everything is once again thrown into question.

Season 4 raises all kinds of new questions about Mildredmoo and their love for each other that many people thought was settled in Season 3. Plus, surely during their separation, Mike would learn new things about El through her letters? But it’s so significant that El feels like she has to hide things from Mike, that she can’t be truthful about how she is really doing in Cali. There’s much to unpack in that alone. But it shows that they are still not on the same page. They aren’t speaking the same language. And when he arrives in Cali, he clearly puts on some kind of act through his awkwardness and the clothes he wears. There’s no doubt that he knows more things about her at this point, but it still seems like it’s largely on a surface level. And he almost starts regressing: calling her Eleven instead of El, judging her, rambling about how he’s just some random nerd lucky that Superman landed on his doorstep. But does he know El’s favorite song? Does he know what El’s goals are for the future? Does he know what El’s biggest fears are? Does he know what her favorite movie is? I can guarantee you he knows those things about Will.

S4 reinforces themes in their relationship that have previously mostly been underneath the surface: he wants to be needed, he idolizes El as a superhero, etc. And for whatever reason he’s actually in love with Will he still can’t say I Love You. They fight, they get separated, and who does he start re-bonding with? Will. His best friend. His closest friend. His oldest friend. The person he is actually on the same page with. So yes, he loves El. Cares for her deeply. Wants her to be safe and happy and beat Vecna. He loves the idea of El, the idea of having a magical super-powered girlfriend. But he’s not in love with El as a person; he’s in love with a certain individual with a bowl-cut, and he doesn’t fully understand what that means yet.