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macfrog · 3 months

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If you ever feel up to it - a little short story from the scom universe about reader and Joel deciding to have a second baby or finding out they're pregnant for the second time would warm my cold dead heart <3

i am. so. sorry. for the word count on this i truly do not know what happened. but i had a lot of fun with it, so. hopefully y'all do, too. happy fathers day! x

jellybean ~4k words | series masterlist warnings: pregnancy symptoms (feeling and being sick, horniness + sleepiness. aka me even when not pregnant), 99% just duckie vs her mom

Duckie spills the secret on a Friday.

The morning is lazy, slow. The breathing of the sea across a plain of beach. Your fingers sift through her hair like the breeze through sun-bleached pages. The way she and the sun tint the room peach.

Sarah sprawls out across the spot still warm on her dad’s side of the bed. She’s in a habit of waking up early to sneak through to your room, lift the bottom of the covers, and army crawl between your bodies.

Joel’s in a habit of stirring to the heat of her at his back, her tiny toes at his spine, and turning to scoop her in one arm. They sleep curled into one another, mouths catching flies.

This morning, though, she’s up to something. She brought a secret.

She’s flat-out on her stomach, pens scratching at the paper. There’s the scent of cherry and lemon and green apple tangling in the air. Taut frown on her face, tongue poked with concentration. She looks just like her dad.

She pauses and looks up at you. “What color is this part?” she asks, dabbing at the blank hubcap.

“Silver,” you reply, fixing the cap back onto the grape pen before it stains your sheets.

She huffs. “I don’t have silver, Mama.”

You tap on the page. “Daddy’s wing mirrors are black, but you did ‘em green. The colors don’t matter, do they?”

But it’s seven a.m., and you’re sharing only the red jellybeans for something of a pre-breakfast snack (the four-year-old’s idea), and you’re exhausted despite having slept the full night, and she keeps halting any time Joel’s humming quietens – just in case he spoils his birthday surprise.

She hunkers down with the lemon pen to nail the emblem of his truck, and you figure – color is just the least of it. Truthfully, to your kid – and so, to you, too – nothing has ever mattered more.

You cup her cheek and lift her gaze back to meet yours. “How about I grab you a glitter pen today, just for the wheels?”

She grins. Little milk teeth, gappy and gummy. Peach fuzz cheeks, sweet as the rest of her, a perfect fit in the palm of your hand.

I love you I love you you’re my whole world I love you, you want to say.

Instead: “Only if we tidy your room later. Deal?”

“Deal, Mama,” Sarah giggles, and her little ink-stained hands splay out across the page again.

She scribbles only a few more splotches of color before you both notice it.

The sudden silence.

The water’s stopped running. The shower screen rattles as he pulls it back. Dripdripdrip from the showerhead straight down to the empty basin.

Sarah twists to watch Joel’s disembodied arm blindly grab for a towel folded on the sink. It whips off out of sight, and he calls through from the bathroom.

“Duckie? You still there?”

“Gogogo,” you whisper, helping your daughter cover her dad’s drawing with blank sheets. “Leave the jellybeans, Duck, save yourself!”

She finds the entire thing hysterical. Swinging her masterpiece under one arm, two fistfuls of rainbow pens, springing from the mattress like it suddenly caught flame. She throws herself from the foot of the bed and dashes across the hall to her own room, candy scattering in her wake.

Joel’s head cranes around the doorframe. “Where’d she go?”

You smile, shrugging. Chewing innocently on a jellybean. “That’s funny. She was here a second ago.”

He pads over to the bed, towel slung loose around his hips. Smirks, when your hungry eyes descend his figure – the bearlike shape of him, all muscle and fur, toned where he needs it but soft where you want it.

He cages over you, dark hair dripping with the smell of citrus, skin sticky.

His lips are like velvet against yours. Tongue still singed with coffee. A low growl from his throat when you lean forward to lick into his mouth.

“Smell so goddamn good,” you murmur, dipping your head to bury into the crook of his neck.

His beard is fuzzier when it’s damp, natural masculine musk melded with the fresh soap and rich aftershave he uses. All honey and oatmeal, mixed with a woodsy scent – and fuck, it’s intoxicating. Moreso than usual – stronger and sexier.

You take his hands and lower them to your hips, letting his fingers knot around the baggy material of your – his T-shirt. Tugging on it, exposing the slip of delicate lace on your hips.

“Darlin’,” Joel warns, “we’re late. We still gotta drop Duckie off – If she walks in –”

You groan, huffing back into the mattress. The weight between your legs ripples over the horizon, pulses into weak nothing.

Joel fixes the shirt back down to your thighs just as the thunder of his daughter’s footsteps rumbles back into the room.

Tonight, he breathes, slicking some of the hair from his face.

You grin, taking his hand to pull yourself back up.

Sarah materializes in the doorway, a lingering half-girl. Smiling from behind the frame, twisting the ball of her foot into the floor.

“Hi, Duck,” Joel says, still playing with your fingers.

“Hi.”

“You look guilty.”

Her grin widens. She totters into the room, launches herself onto the bed, and nuzzles into your side. She squirms when Joel digs his fingers into her waist.

The beats of her laughter drum against your ribs, the same way her fists used to when she lived inside you.

“Alright.” You cradle her, her little head tipping back to wake the rest of Austin up with her squeals of glee. “Are we ready for some actual food, now?”

Joel chuckles, reaching for his mug.

Sarah nods from your lap. Her eyes drift down to the print on your tee. “Mama?”

“Mhm?”

“Do they like jellybeans?”

You frown. “Does who like jellybeans?”

Her finger prods lightly into your tummy. “The baby.”

Joel chokes, splattering coffee into his fist. He slams the mug down, pounds his chest clear of liquid.

“There’s no – Jesus, Joel,” you swipe mocha flecks from the sheets, “Told Sarah to be careful with her pens and then you spray coffee all over the…”

Sarah rolls off, cackling. “Silly Daddy,” she hoots, leaping on the bedroom floor.

“Hey,” you usher her over to the door, “Why don’t you go pick out what you wanna wear today? I’ll be right behind you. Quit tryna give your dad a heart attack, okay?”

“The baby, Mama,” she’s repeating, walking like a little convict. She turns over the threshold to her room like it’s a cell, her pink pajama uniform and guilty expression to go with it. Still laughing, swallowing the ticklish bursts when she notices you’re shaking your head.

“There is no baby.” You kneel before her, repeating, “No baby. Just you. How about your T-shirt with the butterflies?”

It seems to distract her enough. Thank Christ. She gasps, inspired, and twirls off to find the tee.

“Fucking hell,” you sigh, pushing back to your feet.

Joel’s flapping the sheets when you slip back into your room, still clearing his throat. Half-dressed: a white T-shirt over his broad chest and a pair of black boxers. Soaked hair clinging to the back of his neck and drying in flicks across his forehead.

Jesus, you want to pull him back over you and let him have his way.

You close the door over and spin, hands on your hips. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Me?” he croaks. “Did you hear what she just said?”

“You’ve known this kid for four years, Joel, you really can’t tell when she’s fucking with you? She’s my kid, keep up.”

“Just seemed an awfully –” he thumps his chest again, “– awfully specific thing to say.”

“She’s in a phase I think,” you reply, catching the pillow he tosses across. “She’s telling stories. Last week, her pre-K teacher congratulated me our supposed wedding. Asked to see pictures of the Mickey Mouse officiant.”

“Jesus,” he grumbles. “She really bought that?”

You mimic the breezy voice: “Sarah was very convincing.”

Joel scoffs. “I don’t know if I can take a lying phase and a copying phase at the same time. Every goddamn word I say, she’s gotta repeat it.”

“She idolizes you,” you straighten the sheets, “I think it’s endearing.”

“Hm. Just wait until it’s you.”

He wanders around the bed, pulls your back against his chest. His arms cross over your tummy, lips pressing into your shoulder where his shirt has slipped.

“How much harder would two be?” he mumbles into the bare skin.

“Two Sarahs?” You scoff.

Joel laughs. “Yeah, you’re right. I forget she runs on chaos and jellybeans.”

“Yup,” you turn in his arms, linking yours behind his neck, “And there ain’t no point in talking about it anyways, because I am not fucking pregnant.”

He rolls his forehead against yours, stealing bristly kisses. “Okay.”

“I’m not, Joel.”

“I believe you, baby.”

Sarah’s bedtime is a liberal eight, eight thirty on weekends. She likes to sit up, lodged between you and Joel on the couch, and help pick the movie you two will watch once she’s in bed.

Once – and only once – Joel tried to fool her by pretending to play her choice, then switching as soon as she went down.

The kid quizzed him on the movie the next morning. He failed. She’s never forgotten.

Tonight, though, Joel’s out. Some game that you know and care too little about sports to learn the name or importance of. He’s with some buddies at the local bar, probably nursing his second beer in as many hours, and counting down the minutes until he can come home to his girls.

Sarah snores soundly, slumped at your side as though butter wouldn’t melt. The flicker from the TV across her face, the gentle mumbling of the voices onscreen. Her hands limp in her lap, fingers idling in a pink snack bowl.

You admire her, stealing a piece of her popcorn. Teeth grinding down when you remember dishing it for her earlier, hearing her curious voice ask whether or not the baby likes popcorn more than jellybeans.

Nope, you sang, tossing a handful in your mouth as you passed her the bowl. Imaginary babies don’t eat popcorn.

She snorted (which unnerved you, because what the fuck is this kid finding so funny?), and followed you to the living room so close that you could feel her toes at your heels.

Some of the kids in her class have siblings. Some older, but mostly younger. It’s the only fucking explanation, the only thing that explains this sudden interest in the real estate of your uterus.

She’s going through a phase, you tell yourself, suckling on popcorn. But then – how many fucking phases do kids go through? Which phases did you go through?

Barney & Friends. That was a fucking phase. Refusing to leave the house without the hoodie your mom bought you from the Museum of Natural History, even in the height of summer. Ketchup and broccoli, your boyfriend at seventeen, frisbeeing your neighbor’s newspaper and aiming for his flowerpots.

Phase, phase, fucking phase.

Does she know something you don’t?

…No. You took a test just last week. Shut up. Stop letting the kid into your fucking head.

Joel’s keys jangle on the other side of the door, shunting into the lock with a sound which stills your brain.

You tilt your head over the back of the couch, your man’s beard tickling your nose as he kisses you. “Evening.”

“Missed you,” he whispers against your lips. He straightens and tugs the jacket from his shoulders. “She not in bed yet?”

“She fell asleep down here,” you reply. “I got too tired to carry her up.”

He caresses your forehead, big pillowy palm. “You feelin’ okay?”

“It’s been a long day,” you grumble.

Joel smiles. He flops down onto the couch beside you, reaching over to stroke Sarah’s head.

You roll, solid as a rock, curling into his side. “She keeps saying it, Joel. She keeps fucking saying it.”

His chest jumps, tectonic plates moving with a laugh. “You’ve met your match, honey. Produced a professional little shit.”

“One of the other moms from her class is pregnant,” you mumble. “That’s gotta be it, right? That’s where she’s getting it from?”

“Maybe,” Joel muses. His fingers link with yours. “Why don’t you take a test anyways? Settle it in your mind?”

It startles you awake, even if only enough to prove the fucking point.

“No, Joel!” you hiss, body jerking. “If I take a test, and it turns out negative – which it will – she wins! My four-year-old fooled me. No,” you pluck spilled popcorn from your lap, pinging it back into the bowl, “I know this kid. I gave birth to this kid. She is not fucking winning.”

“Alright, baby,” he coos, “it’s okay. I won’t let the four-year-old fool you.”

You glower. “Thanks, asshole.”

He chuckles. “She’d make the best big sister, though. She would,” he insists, when you huff back against his chest. “She’d love being the oldest. Get to be bossy, get to call the shots. Get to protect them, no matter what.”

Your voice feels so small, as inquisitive as your daughter’s when you blink up at him. “Were you protective over Tommy?”

“Oh, yeah. I mean, he was annoying as all hell – and I told him so – but anyone else had anythin’ to say about him, and – well, they had me to deal with.”

“Big scary Joel Miller,” you whisper, yawning into his shirt. “I knew him once.”

“Mhm,” he rumbles, “You sure did.”

You look up again, blinking all doe-eyed and dreamy. Already half-asleep.

“He never scared me,” you whisper.

Joel smiles.

“Well, you scared the hell outta him.”

Saturday morning, you wake to an empty bed. No snoring man, no scribbling girl. Just you – a starfish on the mattress. Bathing in waves of late-morning sun, sheets for coral, body as heavy as though you really are at the bottom of the ocean.

Her giggles carry all the way upstairs. Sarah. They surf into the room on a sunbeam, sounds like bubbles which shatter and sprinkle over your aching body.

You smile into Joel’s pillow, breathing in the smell of him, and peel your eyes open.

It’s ten thirty. Definitely – you blink three times and rub at your eyes, just to make sure. Ten thirty, and something’s swirling behind your navel. Something that sharpens, sours, when you push yourself upright.

“Oh, shit,” you rasp, and throw yourself across the room.

You barely make it, collapsing in a heap at the toilet. Your stomach empties in seconds; three heavy, painful gags and your head is in the bowl, choking on last night’s dinner.

“Motherfucker,” you spit, gasping, “Oh, Jesus.”

You’re sick. You’re just sick. Sarah probably caught something from pre-K, passed it on without even knowing. And, hey – you feel better, now that that happened.

You’re just sick. Nothing else.

“Mornin’,” Joel calls, watching as you stagger into the kitchen.

Sarah mimics his drawl. “Mornin’, Mama.”

“Hi, Duckie.” You crumple into the chair beside her, shoulders hunched. The smell of burnt toast and grape juice twists up your nose, and you suck in a slow breath.

Joel sweeps a hand over your forehead. He tips your jaw up to face him. “You alright? Thought we heard running.”

Sarah rips a slice of toast in two. She stares at the fluffy insides, the jam dripping from the tear. The sight of it lifts the hairs on your skin, the gloopy mess splattering onto her plate.

“Just feel kinda…funny,” you slur, turning away.

“Funny? Funny how?”

“Funny how?” your daughter parrots.

You shrug. Every word, every inhale makes you feel even more nauseous. “Probably just ate something.”

“Heard that one before,” Joel drones, and you throw him a flat look.

Sarah licks the jam from her fingers. She holds her tiny hands up to her dad, snorts when he pretends to bite at them.

“Eat your breakfast, Duckie,” he says then – in his Dad voice. And in something softer, kinder: “Can I make you somethin’?”

You swat the idea away, but it’s already churning in your stomach again. “Just gotta – get over whatever it – is.”

The table falls silent. Joel and Sarah stare blankly at one another. When you turn to look at your daughter, she’s staring straight back. Smirking.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you clip, wincing again at the dribbling jam.

“Alright,” Joel utters, “I think you oughta take a test now.”

“That is not what this is,” you groan, petulantly pushing up from your chair.

He takes your hand, steadying you. “No? I was thinking about it, baby, and I don’t think we’ve been safe enough to be so sure.”

You dump your golden toast in the trash and turn, crossing your arms. Your shoulders lift. “We’re not being any less safe than we have been the last four years.”

“Safe,” Sarah says, and Joel holds a finger up.

“No,” he tells her. “No. Not that word. Go back to funny.”

She beams at him. “You’re funny, Daddy.”

He sighs, pacing over. “Look,” he lowers his plate into the sink, “I’ll take Duckie to the park. Let you rest up, give you a quiet house for the morning. But darlin’, if you’re not better by tonight, you’re takin’ a test.”

You grimace. “But she –”

“I know –” he grits his teeth, “– I know you don’t want her to be right. But I want you to be okay, more ‘n I want to prove my child wrong. Like it or not, you’re taking a damn test.”

Your eyes flit across to the kid swinging her legs in her chair, the splotch of jam down her Peppa Pig T-shirt. Your greatest accomplishment and your biggest challenge, wrapped up into a hundred-centimeter, jellybean-fueled monster.

Her cheeks lift, jam-covered and smug.

“Funny,” Sarah says, nodding.

The afternoon strings the sun high in the sky.

You’ve been home alone for the better part of an hour, busying yourself by cleaning to take your mind off the nausea tugging at your esophagus. Making and remaking beds, folding laundry until your fingers cramp.

Sarah’s room has never been tidier. Joel’s workshop has never seen so little dust. And you have never been more determined to prove your four-year-old wrong.

You’re lingering in the bathroom, the window gaping. Sucking in breath after breath of fresh air – which only serves to tickle the acid burning its way up your throat, entice it further.

You’re emptying the cabinets, reorganizing them into some senseless order. Playing Tetris with boxes of Band-Aids, slotting in tubes of toothpaste. You blindly reach behind your hip for the next box – a nearly empty thing which rattles when you lift it, jitters as though nervous.

You glance down.

“Fuck off,” you hiss, throwing it on the shelf beside some tampons.

It stares back at you, as blinding as the sun. The two display window examples, pregnant and not pregnant, like a wink peering out from the dull cabinet.

Your gums taste of bitter bile, rancid. Teeth furry and aching. Your entire body aches – though nothing quite so bad as the space below your ribs, still tender from all your retching.

Slowly, your hands slip down your front to cup your lower tummy. Rounder than before, suppler – bloated, even.

“’s from all the throwing up,” you tell nobody in particular. Maybe yourself. There’s a desperate edge to your voice, almost a plea.

But then – a plea to who? For what? There was nothing you loved more than carrying Sarah for nine months. Duck. Start saying duck. Baby Duck.

You were never on your own. She was right there. Someone to talk to, someone to complain to. Someone to weep to, in the quietest lulls of night.

Her language came to you as easily as your own. All her kicks and punches, her fucking acrobatics while you tried to sleep. It was love, in its most chaotic form.

And you loved her, the very moment you saw those two lines. The very moment you realized she’d been in there the whole time.

You realize now, squatted on your bathroom floor, that it feels the exact same. A warmth, radiating from your very core, if only you’d pay it enough attention to feel it.

Like there’s someone there. Right there.

“If you’re fucking with me,” you warn your stomach, reaching for the single test, “I will lose my shit.”

Love, in its most chaotic form bursts through your bedroom door no less than half an hour later.

“Hi, Mama!” Sarah sings, tearing through the room with her hands behind her back. Her knees bump against the side of your bed, the air about her summer-warm and pollen-sweet.

“Hi, little Duck,” you mumble, voice swollen. You wipe sleep from your eyes, asking, “How was the park?”

She answers with a wide grin on her face, whipping out a small, shabby bunch of flowers. Dandelions and daisies tangled around one another, loose petals scattering over your bedsheets.

“Oh, baby,” you push yourself up, ignoring the sickly weight in your stomach, “Are these for me?”

She nods. She dusts her hands free of grass when you take the bouquet. And then, as you smell them and hum with delight, she turns.

First, over to the dresser. She stares at her reflection, pokes at some of the makeup on the table. Then over to the window – where her breath fogs the glass. You hear the whack of Joel’s tailgate closing, and she tracks him into the house, before examining the windowsill.

You watch nervously as she drifts back over to the bed, a curious hop to her movements. Inspecting, like she knows there’s something waiting to be found. Someone.

“Did you have fun with Daddy?” you ask.

“Yep,” her small voice says, distant and distracted. She disappears into the dim bathroom.

You slump back down on the mattress, dropping the flowers in a clump on your bedside table. “I don’t even know when I fell asleep, baby girl,” you say through a yawn.

Sarah doesn’t reply.

“Duckie?”

“What’s this?”

You lift your head. “What’s wh…Oh, n-no, Duckie, wait –”

She flees past you, one fist raised and wielding the pregnancy test.

“Sarah! Jesus, fuck –”

You’re chasing after her before you have a chance to consider it – nausea be damned. She’s squealing something, roaring with laughter, blitzing out into the hallway. She swivels, ladders down the stairs backwards, leaps straight into the arms of –

“Christ, Sarah –”

Joel stumbles backwards with the force she throws at him. She’s safe in his arms by the time you reach the top of the stairs, waving the stupid stick around his head like it’s a magic wand.

“Daddy!” Sarah cries.

He glances up to you: hunched over the top step, panting, clutching your stomach. He pinches the test from her grasp. “What do we got here, baby duck?”

She kicks her feet. She has no fucking idea what they have, but she knows you didn’t want her near it – and if you know your kid, you know that’s all the catalyst she needed to fucking take it.

You slowly make your way down towards them, smirk growing the nearer you draw.

Joel glances down to the test. The creases by his eyes deepen. He hugs Sarah closer.

“Two...two means...pregnant, right?” he asks.

You sigh, nodding. “Mhm.”

His head lifts.

He breaks, the second he sees your expression. Eyes glassy, tears spilling onto your cheeks. The same smile you wore that June morning: sleep-deprived and shellshocked, a love pumping through your veins so strong that you thought you might burst with it.

Joel reaches for your hand, reels you in against his body.

“Shit,” he laughs, holding the test up.

Your shaking hands take it from him – though you already knew what it says. You were dreaming of it all when Sarah broke into your room.

Dreaming of linked hands and echoed giggles; of bunkbeds and matching surnames, of all four seats in the truck filled and all four chambers of your heart spoken for.

Dreaming of one on each hip, one in each hand. Dreaming of them tag teaming Joel, of the word kids slung with his southern twang. My kids, the kids, our kids. All ours.

Dreaming of two Sarahs, goddamn it. Because nothing ever completed your life as effortlessly as one Sarah, and – hell, she was born to follow in her dad’s footsteps and become the elder Miller sibling.

“Shit,” you agree, turning to sob into Joel’s chest.

“Duckie,” Joel says, voice hoarse and choked by tears, “You’re gonna be a big sister.”

She giggles, tracing the damp lines down your cheeks. As she reaches your jaw, the elation on her face slowly dwindles into something of a frown.

Your lips part to repeat it – a big sister, Duck – when her tiny voice steals the air from your lungs.

“Shit!”

#chats #anon #fic: sweet child o' mine #joel miller ficlet #joel miller #joel miller x reader

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fernsnailz · 1 year

Text

it's time... for the TEAM DARK FEST! 💥💥💥💥

me and @serpentineshine are hosting a little tournament to finally determine who the best Team Dark member is! this week there's gonna be goofs, bits, and even a special prize for the winner 👀

however, the most important prize of all is what awaits at the end of the festival! ...but that's a secret right now.

💥 cast your vote below! 💥

(oh also if anyone makes any propaganda for their fav character. tag me i wanna see)

video transcript below the cut! ⬇️

A blue announcement screen with scrolling text reads “SPECIAL FENSNAILZ ANNOUNCEMENT.” There’s a looping animation of Squeak the cat in the middle. It disappears, cutting to a shot of a studio space.

In the studio, SNAIL, SHINE, SQUEAK, and a VASH PLUSH all sit at a desk with a large CRT TV on it. Squeak and Vash are on top of the TV, and shelves with various items line the walls. Everyone seems to be unaware that the camera is rolling - Snail is reading the script, Shine is drinking from a mug, and Squeak is licking her butthole. Vash remains motionless.

Snail notices the camera zooming in, and throws away the script in a moment of panic. Shine and Squeak sit up to face the camera as well.

SNAIL: Coming at you pre-recorded, it’s Snail, Shine, and The Beasts!

SHINE: We’re here today to announce a special tournament we’re hosting: the TEAM DARK FEST!

SQUEAK: Eep!

VASH: weemp womp :]

SNAIL: You know ‘em, you love ‘em-

SHINE: Or hate them.

SNAIL: It’s all about TEAM DARK this week! Fellas, turn on that TV!

The camera cuts to a close-up of the TV as the screen flips on. Three shitty photos of each Team Dark member appear on the TV under the question “Who is the best member of Team Dark?” Every Team Dark member’s name is misspelled underneath the photos.

SHINE: Time for the ULTIMATE question: Who is the best Team Dark member?

SNAIL: Oof. We’re turning them against each other, huh? That’s dramatic.

SQUEAK: Meep! (HOLY SHIT)

The camera zooms out to a wide view of the studio, but zooms out much further than needed for a split second. For some reason, this is all being filmed on a green screen set, and the shelves behind the cast seem to be edited in. Not only that, but this studio is either widely over-staffed or widely under-staffed, because the boom mic is held by seven Chao stacked on top of each other. The camera zooms into a closeup of Snail before much of this information can be processed.

SNAIL: Well, it’s obviously Shadow. I told him if he won, I would get him ice cream after soccer practice!

The camera pans over to Shine.

SHINE: No way, vote for Rouge! She can carry like. Nineteen mountain lions. Give or take

The camera pans over to Squeak and Vash. Squeak points at a crude drawing of Omega that seems to say “VOTE OMEGA.” It is upside down. Vash holds a cute little sign that says “I <3 OMEGA” that he likely made himself.

SQUEAK + VASH: ?????????????? (we didn’t hire anyone to translate this part.)

Back in a wide shot, Snail and Shine stare blankly at Squeak and Vash. Squeak licks her butthole again. Vash is now Real. Someone off-screen sneezes very convincingly.

SHINE: This poll will run for ONE WEEK before we announce the winner! So little time…

SNAIL: Everyone make your vote count! The winner of this festival will have a special page in my…

An image of a porcelain snail appears over a white background as an echo-y human voice says “SECRET UPCOMING PROJECT.”

VASH: bweep bwaa :] (Yay! Prizes!)

SHINE: The final verdict will be decided by Twitter AND Tumblr, so commit as much voter fraud as you please!

Squeak bites Vash and he screams. They both fall off the TV and make a surprising amount of noise. Snail and Shine stare in shock.

SNAIL: See you in seven days! And hey, if you want to participate… tag me in any propaganda you make to fight for your favorite Team Dark member!

Squeak and Vash explode.

#IT'S VOTER FRAUD WEEK FOLKS!!!!!!!#watch our silly video we had a stupid amount of fun making it #also i'm gonna be using the tag teamdarkfest to organize all this stuff #for some reason the darkfest tag is full of mountain bikers and like one person posting captain america x iron man art 🤷‍♀️#teamdarkfest #team dark

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apomaro-mellow · 1 year

Text

Steve let out the greatest sigh he'd ever heaved. "I can't believe I have to fuck him."

Robin's head whipped to him so fast like he just said he was gonna jump off a building. "You don't have to."

"No I'm gonna", Steve said, eyes not leaving Eddie. He was biting his thumb like he couldn't wait to get alone with him.

Robin looked back at Eddie, who was filling up his plate with things from the picnic table. "I don't see it."

"Because you're a lesbian."

"With taste. And standards. I mean what exactly has got you twirling your hair right now?"

"I mean look at him!"

Eddie had a plate in one hand that already had an open burger on it. The fingers of his other hand danced like they were trilling a piano as he was deciding on what to put on the plate next. He grabbed some chips on the side and then placed the plate down to figure out what he condiment he wanted.

Eddie put his hand on his chin like it was the utmost important decision. Then he grabbed the mayo and the mustard in one hand and squeezed them in a swirl.

"You gonna kiss him with must-ayo breath?", Robin snickered.

"I wish I was that burger", Steve said as he watched Eddie sink his teeth into it. Steve bit his lip while Eddie was licking som stray sauce off his fingers and Robin felt uncomfortable.

"Um, do you, Eddie, and the burger want some privacy."

If Steve was being honest, he didn't fully trust himself to be alone in a room with just Eddie and whatever he was currently feasting on.

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

Eddie wasn't drunk. He wasn't even buzzed. No this particular evening, he was simply loopy on lack of sleep. He'd meant to go to bed, honest. But an idea popped into his mind and things kept adding in a delicious stew of inspiration and he just stayed up all night.

When Steve heard that, he nearly cursed him out for driving like that to his house.

"We were supposed to meet today, Steeeeve."

"It could've waited."

"Hmm, one doesn't make the king wait."

Eddie collapsed onto his couch and Steve thought he might conk out right away, but he was valiantly staying awake. Steve sat next to him and thought he might wait to see just in case Eddie fell asleep in the next 15 seconds.

Instead, Eddie reached out slowly with his pointer finger and booped Steve's nose. "It's so pointy", he said in a croaky voice. "Bet the girls loved that."

Steve snorted. "What?"

"When you ate 'em out."

"Dude!", Steve laughed. Eddie was always pretty candid, but this was another brand.

Then Eddie began to draw circles on Steve's face with his finger, all while drawing out that croaky sound before saying "Phooone hoooome."

Steve giggled and Robin finally spoke up from the loveseat.

"Yeah, I'm still here. But you know, movie night can wait or whatever."

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

Steve's hands were in his face as he sat on the edge of his bed. Robin was patting his back reassuringly.

"There, there."

"It's just... Robin you should've seen him."

"I've seen him, babe."

"Not like this he was just-he was so into it!"

Steve had gone to pick up Eddie from the Wheeler's. He figured he'd find the other either with Mike, or maybe even Nancy. But no. Eddie had been in the backyard, in the middle of a very intense game of pretend with Holly. It had taken Steve everything not to strip and beg Eddie to give him his own babies.

"Have I...always been this much of a slut?", Steve asked.

Robin thought for a second before answering. "Yyyeah. But also, you've always been a goofball. Now that I think about it, you and Nancy had kinda an opposites attract thing. But maybe you don't need to opposite. You need someone as silly as you."

"Steve!", Eddie nearly crashed through his door. "We're making a blanket fort downstairs, you in?"

Steve rubbed his face and looked to Robin, admitting defeat with his eyes and then looked to Eddie. "Yeah. I really do."

#apo writes #stranger things #steddie #platonic stobin #steve is in the closet about his goofiness #and nothing else #robin has to tell him yeah yall are made for each other #ur both clowns

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enviedear · 3 months

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oh em geeeee… honestly part of me wishes to train with him a bit. or like just watch him train,,, idk why… jace is eating at my brain for no reason. srry this isn’t a lot 😭😭😭 let me think — 🦢 (if nobody has used this one already)

i also want to train with our communal baby daddy, here's some fluffy training with jace. i hope you love it swan nonnie! enjoy the hints of societal misogyny i added in <3

request ⊹ send me your thoughts

night grips the entirety of the red keep, castle almost eerily quiet. you glance around your chambers, heart pounding. the court expects you to be confined to traditional duties—embroidery, etiquette, and endless tea lunches. despite your betrothal to the future king, education for your regency remains lackluster.

but tonight, you have other plans.

carefully, you slip out of your chambers, the soft rustle of your plainclothes barely audible. you navigate the winding corridors with practiced ease, the flickering torchlight casting long shadows on the stone walls.

each step bringing you closer to the training grounds, where your betrothed awaits.

as you approach, the sound of steel clashing and the grunts of exertion reach your ears. you quicken your pace, eager to see him. rounding the corner, you spot jacaerys in the courtyard, his sword slicing through a practice dummy with precision. he looks every bit the warrior prince, his dark hair falling into his eyes as he moves.

"you're late." he teases, a playful glint in his eyes when he sees you.

"i had to make sure no one saw me… or followed me." you reply, grinning. "wouldn't want to ruin my prince's reputation with my unladylike behavior."

jacaerys laughs, the sound warm and genuine. he steps forward, handing you a practice sword. "let's see if your skills have improved, my lady."

you take the sword, feeling its weight in your hands. despite the countless hours of secret training, the weapon still feels foreign compared to the delicate quilting needles you're expected to master.

but as you face jacaerys, determination sets in. you refuse to be underestimated.

he takes a offensive stance, and you mirror him. the first clash of your swords sends a shiver down your spine. the thrill of combat, the crash of steel—it’s intoxicating.

jace had mentioned the fact the first night he decided to train you. he was adamant, talking out of his head, rash yet horribly kind.

your prince has never fully bent for the rules. while the rest of court frowned upon their future queen welding the weapon of men, your love did not. he seeks only to encourage you.

jacaerys pushes you, sending you backwards, testing your limits. his movements are fluid, graceful even, but he holds back, allowing you to find your rhythm.

"you've improved!" he says, parrying a particularly aggressive strike. "but you still leave your left side vulnerable."

you huff, annoyed at his observation. "show me how to fix it, then."

with a grin, jacaerys steps closer, his eyes locked onto yours. he adjusts your stance, his hands firm and guiding. "like this..." he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear. your heart skips a beat, the proximity of his body sending a jolt of electricity through you.

you nod, trying to focus on his instructions. he steps back, and you both resume your positions. this time, you're ready. when he strikes, you deflect, moving with more confidence.

slowly, jace’s hits grow less suppression— his eyes alight as you begin to match his pace. his true equal.

jace finally errs, striking out hastily and allowing your to draw back. quickly, and before he can recover, you leap forward and strike him. your swords’ edge pressing lightly into his practice chestplate. you lower your sword, panting. jacaerys stands opposite you, a proud smile on his lips.

"using my own teachings against me." he says, voice filled with admiration. "should i be wary of your true plans with these lessons?”

you laugh, shaking your head. "never, my prince. i simply mean to protect at your side."

he steps closer, his expression softening. "that's all i could ask for." he whispers.

"perhaps one day." you reply, a smirk playing on your lips. "save you ever entertain the notion of a mistress."

jacaerys chuckles, a twinkle in his eyes. "i would sooner seek the fate of dragonfire."

you can't help the foolish smile your lips curve into, “i’ll hold you to your promise, my prince."

he bows slightly, his dark hair falling back from his face. "i eagerly make this oath,” he looks up at you, soft smirk on his face, “my queen.”

you pull him into a hug, free of the watchful eyes of the usually bustling castle. he melts into your embrace, agile hands finding home at the small of your back. the pair of you stay like that for a while, fueled purely by each others company.

"i should probably head back before someone realizes i'm missing," you say reluctantly, already dreading the return to your stifling halls.

jacaerys nods, understanding flickering in his gaze. "until next time then, my lady. on time, perhaps?"

with a roll of your eyes and a soft smile, you hand back the practice sword and turn to leave. you feel his eyes watch you as you disappear into the castle’s walls—and somehow, the knowledge of that feels much more powerful than any weapon.

#jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys x reader #prince jacaerys #jacaerys x you #jace velaryon #jace velaryon x reader #jace velaryon x you #hotd fanfic #jacaerys velaryon x reader #hotd jacaerys #jacerys targaryen #jacaerys x y/n #jacaerys targaryen x reader #jacaerys velaryon x you #[.𖥔 ݁🐉 ˖]

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princessbrunette · 7 months

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bf!jj seeing you in your glasses the first time and just keeps referring to you as a hot librarian and you don’t know how to react

𓏲 ♥︎ ݁ 🦴 ˖ ࣪🩰

“yo, babe do me a favour real quick?” jj seemingly appears out of nowhere as he usually does, disrupting the quiet time you were having out on the porch to the chateau — reading your book.

“hm?” you slowly drag your eyes away from the page to blink up at him distractedly.

“can you say the words ‘do you have a library card?’ but like in a sexy way?” he stares you down, boyishly adjusting his shorts. you place your bookmark on the page and close your book, deciding to entertain his nonsense as you turn your body to face him more.

“what? why?” you furrow your brows and he flops onto the seat beside you, shrugging it off.

“well, the glasses are givin’ me some serious sexy librarian vibes and i’m tryna live out this one fantasy of mine. infact, i actually had a dream about it once where i forgot to return my book and— nevermind it’s not important.” he lifts his shoulders, unable to stop looking at you from where he sits. you get shy, reaching up to take them off.

“aaaand they’re coming off.” you sigh and he sits up suddenly, gently grabbing your wrists to stop you from removing them.

“no they’re not.” he distracts you by pulling you in for a kiss, but when he pulls away the hands that cup your cheeks slide round to the backs of your ears where your glasses rest, wiggling his fingers on them so that the frames jump up and down on your nose bridge. “woohoo, now we’re talkin’.” he grins and you bat him away.

“you’re making me self conscious.” you pout and he wraps an arm around the back of your neck, drawing you into his trap and dropping quick wet kisses all over your mouth.

“well stop. i like ‘em, mama. think they’re sexy.” he admits and you let a smile slip. he draws back in to kiss you again before pulling back thoughtfully, eyes lighting up. “do you think these would work as like, protective goggles? for when i nut on your face?”

“jj!”

“just askin’.”

𓏲 ♥︎ ݁ 🦴 ˖ ࣪🩰

#anon #jj maybank prompt

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patscorner · 3 months

Text

That Damn Australian

Summary: Your relationship with Georgia isn't public knowledge, but after one big win, you decide time is up.

wc: 1,271

Contains: a singular kiss

______________________________

“Can you come to this one game, pleeeeeeaaaasssseeee?” your girlfriend whined for the umpteenth time. You and Georgia had been dating for almost two years, away from the media. You knew what type of backlash she could get, and you didn't want to add more to her plate than necessary.

She saw no issue with it, and as much as she wanted to tell the world that you were hers, she respected your boundaries and never posted you.

Over the past two years, she'd ask for your permission before she posted something even slightly attention-grabbing. You always said yes, and at this point the fans were becoming suspicious. What you knew would seal the deal is if you went to one of her games. You'd been, of course, but never in the stands, away from the cameras and anyone who might recognize you.

Georgia always asked for you to come to the games and be courtside, but you always refused and she never pushed you. She never made you feel pressured, but the longer you guys dated, the more in love you fell and the more you wanted to be present, regardless of who was there.

“Baby, you know I want to, but-”

“But you don't want to draw attention, yeah, yeah. I just wish you could be there.” She says, snuggling into your chest further as you lay in bed, legs interlocked.

“I know. Me too.” You whisper, rubbing shapes on her back. She tried to hide her disappointment, but you could always tell.

And you weren't gonna let it last for long.

Georgia walks out of your bedroom, while you sit on the couch, cuddled up under the blankets. She's got sweats and a Virginia tech hoodie on. She grabs her keys before making her way over to you. “Love you.” She mutters, not hiding her disappointment.

“Hey, wait, c’mere.” You say, pushing the blanket off your lap, standing up. Georgia turns around, and makes her way towards you.

You knew she really wanted you to go, she always did, but for some reason, this time it hurt more than usual. And if you asked her, she would have said it was just another big game, but that would be a lie.

“I'll make it up to you, okay? I'm sorry.” You say, pulling away. She smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. “It's okay, baby.”

You kiss her gently, before letting her go, smacking her ass as she turns around to leave. “Go get 'em for me.”

As soon as you heard her car pull off, you sprung from the couch and rushed to put your plan in action.

The ball soars through the air, as the audience silences. Game is tied 95-95, and your girlfriend just made the final shot from half court. The crowd roars as the final buzzer goes off, signaling a win for the Virginia Tech Hokies, the score 98 to 95. They just beat Marshall Thundering Herd in the NCAA Tournament.

The team celebrates mid court, surrounding Georgia. You can't help but smile, your heart filled with profound excitement for your girlfriend and her teammates. You know how hard they all worked to get to where they are, spending long hours practicing and perfecting plays.

Now, normally, you'd be in the front, courtside, so you could see the action first hand, but in order for this to work, you had to blend in. It was easy to dodge the cameras, mostly directing their attention to the game. It was the people, the people who've seen you two walking around campus, and the ones who stared at you two too long.

But that falls to the back of your mind as you see your girlfriend smiling brightly. Her teammates are in one group, but she stays behind. You observe as a flash of something in her face, the same look she had when she left the dorm.

After observing her for a bit, you decide you can't take the heartbreak anymore. You get up from the stands and make your way onto the floor. Her teammates recognize you immediately, but they don't say anything, as you slowly walk over to Georgia.

Her eyes dance around the players, not searching for anyone in particular, when they pause to lock onto yours for a moment, but continue skimming the room.

That's when realization hits Geargia, and she does a quick double take with a gasp. She lets out a squeal as she sprints over to you, almost tackling you into a bear hug.

You laugh as her arms wrap tightly around your waist, as your cross around the back of her neck. She sways you back and forth, for a split second, before lifting you up by the back of your thighs, to which you lift your legs to clasp around her hips. She's holding you longer than the two of you ever have on camera. You catch a glimpse of her teammates smiling at you both in adoration.

“Hi, baby.” You whisper to her, not hiding your mouth from the cameras, like you would typically do.

She pulls away, eyes glossy as she sniffles. You laugh lightly, wiping your own tears you didn't know were pooling. “Stop crying, you big baby.” You mutter to her.

Georgia lets out half laugh-half sob. “You first.” she looks up at you, the spark she was missing seemingly lit again. “How-Why are you here right now?”

“You really think I'd miss your big day?” You say teasingly. Her eyebrows raise, but she shakes her head. She doesn't say anything as her eyes trail down to your lips. “I really want to kiss you right now.” She whispers.

You look around, seeing cameras on you both, and instead of feeling nervous, like you usually would, you're excited. You want this. It's time.

“So do it.” You reply.

“Are you sure? I know how much you didn't want to be on film-” She says, her eyes never leaving yours.

“Yes, I'm sure.” You smile. “But baby, there's cameras every-” She reasons.

“Georgia.”

“Right.” She leans in, and your hands come around so you can cup her face. Her lips meet yours with invaluable enthusiasm, a representation of your undying support and devotion to each other.

You almost get lost in the kiss, your lips igniting a burning flame of your love, but you're brought back to reality by the claps and cheers of her teammates.

You smile, pulling away and meeting the shining eyes of your girlfriend. “I love you so fucking much.” she whispers as she places you down.

“You better, I'm missing the Bachelorette for this.” You frown playfully.

She throws her head back in laughter, and you can't help but stare at her in amazement. That damn laugh. The only sound that you could listen to forever.

“No, seriously, I want to see who she gives the rose to. Can we speed this up?” She rolls her eyes at your antics, but her face falls serious.

“I'm serious, thank you so much for being here.” Your heart flutters at her tone. “Of course. I know how much you wanted me to come to one, and even though I was scared as fuck, I got over it.” You smile.

“Because, nothing means more to me than you.”

She blushes, her eyes filling with tears. “Fuck.” She laughs.

You smile, which seems to be the only thing you can do when you're around her.

Because whether it's out of your comfort zone, there's nothing you wouldn't do for that damn Australian.

______________________________

taglist: @wintersstan @bueckerslover @lilia22hicks @fake-intelligences @girlokwhatever @pbloverr @breeloveschris-deactivated20240 @cosmopretty @hellokittyfeenie

#georgia amoore x reader #georgia amoore #wcbb x reader #wcbb #wbb #wbb x reader #ncaa wbb #ncaa women’s basketball #ncaa #patsworks

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eh-what-blog1 · 1 year

Text

Negan x reader smut

♡Hey everyone! Here's a smut based on a request I got recently...I hope I did it justice!! If you have any more requests, please leave 'em with me <3

Warnings: vibrator play, Negan being Negan, dirty talk, afab reader, overstimulation, penetration mentioned, tears of pleasure referenced, dominant Negan, also his softer side comes out a little!

♡ You decide to tell Negan some valuable information you found out earlier in the day. He appreciates it and wants to reward you for telling him.

You felt nervous as you stand in the ominous looking meeting room. Negan sits confidently at the foot of the large table, his feet stretched out onto the glass as he crosses his legs. You can't help but eye up Lucille, leaning against the dreary grey walls, covered in splotches of dark blood. You shyly look down at your shaky hands, examining your fingers for the sake of keeping distacted from the long silence hanging between you both.

You don't know how the unpredictable man is going to respond to what you just told him. You witnessed Simon, his right hand man, going about the Sanctuary like he owned the place earlier today. He confidently strutted around, talking the big talk on how he wanted to kill Negan and take over as leader. Your heart dropped after hearing him discuss his plan with random Saviors.

You don't know why you felt the need to tell Negan this, but it must have been due to your feelings towards him. You always had an attraction to him... you liked how confident he was, how he presented himself... even his dirty sense of humour amused you. Not to mention how you swooned every time his dimples became promimant as he spoke.

Suddenly, he speaks up, snapping you away from your thoughts.

"So...you wanna know what I think?" *he sighs as his deep voice rumbles through you, making you shiver in your place. You look up to see him staring intensely at you, leaning back in his chair casually while you shyly play around with your fingers. You meet his gaze hopefully, eyes twinkling up at him.

Instead of directly telling you, he laughs to himself as he gets up from his chair. The sound runs through your body, making you shiver as he confidently walks towards you, invading your space. You can't help but look up at him as he smiles widely at you, those dimples showing like you always loved. A blush spreads across your face instantly, feeling shy under his strict gaze.

"I think..." He says slowly, letting his words draw out. "that you've been very good..coming to me and telling me all this"

As he speaks, he let's his rough hand come up to your face, pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear.

"Very, very good..." He continues, his voice somehow a lot deeper and sultry than it was before. You gulp softly as you continue to look up into his dark hazel eyes. There is a clear tension building up and you feel yourself becoming weaker as he towers over you dominantly.

"Are you a good girl? Is that why you came and told me all this?"

Your eyes flutter closed for a moment as his words send an ache straight down to your already needy core. His presence alone can have you dripping wet with need and you feel your underwear hugging tightly against your wet little pussy as he speaks to you, craving his large, rough hands all over your body. You can't fathom a response and he smirks knowing how he's making you feel.

"I reward good girls...do you know that?" He presses on, not breaking eye contact for a single second as he searches your eyes for a response. You hum out in response, a simple 'mmm' leaving your mouth as a little whine rather than a sound of acknowledgement. This makes him smirk again as he goes to whisper in your ear.

"How about you sit your pretty little ass on that table and give me a second" he utters confidently, his voice a little rough. You recognise that it is not a question, it is a demand. You blush wildly and nod in compliance, quickly making your way over to the table, your skirt riding up your legs slightly. You enjoy the sensation of the cold glass pressing against the heat of your soft thighs as you watch the man open up one of the large cabinets, pulling something out with a low laugh of amusement. Nervously, you look down into your lap as he walks back over to you, stopping right in front of where you're sitting.

He gazes at you with fervour, an inappropriate expression painted on his face as he observes you intensely. He suddenly shakes an object in front of your eyes, forcing you to look up at it with a shy look on your face. It's a pink, medium-sized object, a rod shape. It also has a few small buttons etched onto the side of it. Immediately, you know what it is. Despite your inexperience in the area, you know straight away that he's holding a vibrator right in front of your eyes. The sight makes you gulp as you connect your thoughts, realising what he meant by "reward"

"Hm? Would you like that..? Want me to press this between your legs..?"

His voice sends chills down your spine as you squeeze your thighs together needily, noticeably wanting to give into his offer. He was serious about this...

"M-mmm...Negan..." You say his name softly, your voice coming out a little more needy than you would have liked. That's the confirmation he needs from you as you whimper out your reply, seeing him smirk as he bites his lip a small bit at the sight of you sitting there so vulnerable on his table.

Suddenly, you feel his strong hands grazing along your thighs, making you shiver at the feeling. His thumb brushes against the soft skin as he pushes your legs apart, making room for him to step between them. You're in a very desperate state as he kneads your sensitive flesh, making your face heat up even more than before. Your mind starts racing as you feel him hiking your skirt up, revealing your soaked panties.

"Goddamn! Look at that...you're fucking soaked..."

His crude words make you whimper softly as he plays with the hem of your panties, your eyes fully taken over by the desire you feel for him.

N-Negan...I...

You try to speak as he languidly pulls your panties down, yet they protest a bit as they hug around your sweet little clit and soft, puffy lips. A string of slick connects your panties to your needy core as he slips them down your ankles.

Without saying anything, he looks down at you, meeting your gaze for a moment. His dark eyes are full of desire and so are yours. He shakes his head at you a little bit, showing his satisfaction with how needy you are, almost in disbelief regardless of how confident he is in his ability to woo women. This is another level.

He uncharacteristically stays quiet as he grabs the pink vibrator, examining it for a moment before turning it on. A loud buzz fills the room, and your eyes flutter closed as you anticipate what's about to happen. It makes you feel so weak and dizzy as the man looks down on you, sliding his hand up your stomach and pressing you down so you're flat on the table. He pushes your legs out some more, leaving your sensitive core fully displayed for him. You see his expression shift again as his eyes fill with even more desire.

"Mmm...you're not gonna know what's hit you in a second" he says smugly as he presses the object against your inner thigh, slowly letting it drift up towards where you need it most.

"N-Negan..please..I.." Your voice is weak and soft as he looks down, observing your reactions as the vibrator buzzes against you. He teases you for a little longer before pulling it away. You close your eyes for a moment, thinking he's stopping to tease you more. That was until you suddenly felt the object pressing snug against your clit. Your eyes widen immediately as it buzzes loudly against your bundle of nerves, causing you to moan needily.

O-oh God...

You whimper and whine as he presses it against you, holding you down with his hand as you start to squirm a little bit

"Look at you...I couldn't just let you leave here with nothing after telling me such important information, right?" His voice sends shivers down your spine, so deep and rough.

You whimper in response as he holds the vibrator flush against your clit, sometimes letting it drift away from that spot for a second just to tease you.

"God girl I want to bury my dick inside of you so bad...get you all messy"

As soon as the dirty words leave his mouth, your eyes widen a little bit. "P-please...please can you..?" You try your best not to sound shaky, but between every breath you whimper needily at the man.

"What? This isn't good enough for you?" He raises his eyebrow at you, smiling widely as he's clearly amused by his own comment. He wiggles the vibrator against your pussy teasingly.

Suddenly, he presses one of the buttons, and the vibrations get a lot stronger. You whimper out again, not able to stop yourself from reaching your arm out, gripping the end of the table with your shaky fingers. It hasn't taken long for you to get close to your climax as you feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. You screw your eyes shut, and your breath becomes hot and heavy. He notices how you shake and whimper as you approach your orgasm.

"That's it, darlin'. Cum for me...that's it" his deep voice coaxes your orgasm as his words tip you over the edge. You moan his name desperately as you feel your legs shaking slightly from the strong vibrations to your core. As you relax through your high, enjoying the feeling running through your body, you start to feel another feeling taking you over. You notice that Negan still hasn't removed the vibrator, keeping it nestled onto your clit.

"N-Negan.." You say his name softly, a touch of curiosity in your tone as well as a little overwhelmed strain. He laughs a little to himself again, clearly amused as you squirm about. The feeling on your clit makes you wriggle in his grasp as he holds you there. Despite the overwhelming feeling, you enjoy the overstimulation to your sensitive core. You cry out desperately.

"Shhh...shh...I know doll, I know..." He reassures you a little as he continues, pressing the pink vibrator flush against you as your eyes water from the feeling.

"Hmm? That's good, isn't it..? You like that feeling?" His voice is rough as he speaks, so deep and sultry. It drives you wild as he doesn't give up with his attack on your sensitive little pussy. You can only nod your head messily as you feel a wave of pleasure shoot through you again, your second orgasm is already soon approaching. Your eyes continue to water as the overstimulation gets to you.

"I know...I know...it feels so good, hm? You like what I'm doing to you, darlin'?" You nod your head desperately again as he gazes down at you intensely. He seems to be a little softer now as he coaxes yet another orgasm from you.

"Such a good girl...cum for me again, let it all out..."

His words tip you over the edge for a second time as you screw your eyes closed, your orgasm hitting you even harder than the first. The tears prick in your eyes with pleasure as you shake again under his grasp, loving how good it feels. You moan his name over and over again, letting our desperate whimpers and whines as you let yourself go for him.

A few seconds pass as you lie there, shaking and messy as you coat part of the table in your slick.

"Mmmm, you took that so well.." Negan says roughly as he pushes the vibrator away from you, switching it off and placing it on the table. It was like he was experimenting a bit with you, seeing how much pleasure you could take.

You lie against the cold table, your breath hot and fast as your heart rate slowly starts to come down. You can't help but reach out to him, overstepping a bit of a boundary, but you want to feel him close especially after that. Your face is bright red and your painted with a satisfied and joyful expression, in disbelief of what just happened.

He doesn't give you any weird look as you reach out, sitting yourself upright. Instead, he reaches out to your waist, wrapping his strong arms around you as he lifts you up from the table, settling you down onto his lap as he sits down. You don't expect it at all, but you don't question him as you relax in his arms. You let out a soft sigh.

"T-thank you...that was..amazing" you utter gently, your voice barely above a whisper as exhaustion takes over.

"Well, I had to reward you, didn't I?" His voice is low and he seems uncharacteristically a little softer as he speaks to you. You enjoy it as you relax even more, closing your eyes.

Maybe this could be the start of something interesting...

#negan x reader #negan smith smut #negan smith #negan smut #negan twd smut #negan x reader smut #negan x you #twd smut #smut #fandomsmut

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fadingdaggerr · 7 months

Note

hey! I just wanted to see if I could request a Melissa x Reader fic where basically r is a teacher at the school and her best friend is ava, and r has the fattest crush on melissa ever but the only ones who know are ava, barbra, and mr johnson (bc dude knows everything)

and ava and barbra are trying to be wingman because melissa likes r. so just a bunch of mutual pining and fluff. and when they confess it’s snowing.

if you can’t do that that’s totally fine! but if you do thanks in advance and take your time

as you ever were

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: request above | 8k

includes: mutual pining, ava and barb meddling, kinda dialogue heavy oops, these bitches Oblivious, author is a classics nerd

warnings: (minimal) they/them pronoun use for R, sexual innuendos, (brief) alcohol consumption, kissing/light making out

note: sorry i took so long getting to this req. school started up and work is genuinely insane. plus i got a little too into writing this so editing too a little while. i actually really like how this turned out :)

Unforecasted frozen rain forced recess to be inside, everyone was to just stick to their classroom since there was no time to prepare the gymnasium for indoor recess on such short notice. The kids spent the first five minutes of recess begging you to go outside, to which you open the window, to which Sean says oh, hell no, resulting in a scolding from you.

Within five more minutes, your teacher-senses begin to tingle. Something is wrong. Looking up from your record book, you glance around the classroom until your eyes land on Karam. The seven year old had just moved to Philly with his parents a few weeks ago, and with this being his first week at a new school, he has been understandably frazzled. The boy is facing towards your desk, away from his classmates, sitting on a beanbag chair and crying to himself.

Immediately, you rise out of your chair and approach him gently, lowering yourself to sit criss-cross in front of him. “Hey, Karam. What’s going on?” you ask calmly, not trying to draw attention to his state nor baby him. The only response you get is a shake of the head, so you ask, “would you like some alone time right here?” Another shake of the head, another question, “do you want to talk alone, just you and me? You can bring Pickle.”

This offer seems to appease him, he instantly stands and goes to his backpack to grab his beloved stuffed sea lion. You get to the doorway and keep your hand on his shoulder where he stands just out of sight of the other kids, hoping no one will see him and decide to get nosy.

“Okay, chickens. I’m going to run across the hall very quickly, keep doing what you’re doing. Ashante, honey, you’re in charge,” you say with a little grin, it becomes a full smile when the girl salutes you.

Once you’re in the hall, Karam grabs your hand tightly with big tears ready to fall, and stays close as you cross diagonally to some of your students' previous second grade classroom. You lean into the doorway, still keeping Karam out of sight of others, and knock to gain a certain redhead’s attention. She’s quick to get to you, seeing a sort of urgency on your face.

“What’s up?”

“Can you watch my class, please? I’ve got a situation here,” you tip your head to the side to gesture to Karam, still gripping your hand and sniffling. “I promise I’ll pay you back somehow, lunch, lunch duty, recess duty, whatever. Just, please?”

Melissa takes one look at you pleading eyes and knows she can’t say no to you, especially not with a sad little friend by your side. “You owe me nothing. I’ll bring the kids to my room and you can come get ‘em after,” she says with a tone she hopes shows she’s being genuine.

“Thank you, thank you so much,” you rush out, immediately your attention falling back to the tears rolling down Karam’s cheeks. Melissa scoots over to your room, corralling the kids across the hall with an excited tone to keep their eyes on her and not you and their classmate.

With the extra bodies in the room, Melissa finds that the doorway was a good place to observe all the kids in her room. Though she tries to keep her eagle eyes on the students, they slowly slide to your form in the hall, crouched down below the boy’s eye level with his hand in yours. Her ears feel like a radio, tuning into the hushed volume you keep.

“It’s okay to be sad, buddy. Everything and everyone is so new, you’re allowed to be scared,” you say as you wipe his cheeks with a tissue, “and you and I both know that baba and daddy would never bring you somewhere that wasn’t safe. And Pickle, he’s here for you, and so am I.”

The boy leans into you for a hug, and your arms wrap tightly around him. Melissa tries not to stare, but she’s unable to take her eyes off the interaction. The way you rock him gently side to side, it was clear you weren’t letting go until he did. She vaguely remembers you mentioning that being a rule of yours when you first started at Abbott, when you took over her third grade class and her entire field of vision.

Melissa averts her eyes back to the kids as the hug ends, but she still listens discreetly. You wipe Karam’s face as you speak, “let’s go get you some water, okay? And maybe, if you use those puppy eyes, nurse Makiah will let you pick out a lollipop. Does that sound like a deal?”

“Do we have to come back to recess?” The shyness in his voice makes you pout.

“Yes, because Miss Schemmenti was super nice to watch all our friends for me while we’re talking, and I’m sure she’d like her room back,” you peek up to Melissa quickly, “and when we get back, we’re gonna say a big ‘thank you,’ alright?”

“Yeah,” Karam answers quietly, but his next words are so quiet you barely hear them, “thank you.”

“Of course, chicken. Let’s go.” Melissa pretends she’s not watching you walk down the hall with a hand still in Karam’s, her eyes switch back to her class when you disappear around the corner.

When you return to get the kids from Melissa, she instead insists that you just sit out the rest of recess in her room since the students were already playing together. That’s the only reason, nothing else. You keep a cautious eye on Karam as he sits down to draw with one of Melissa’s students, and once you see him start to arrange his colors, you drift your attention to the woman next to you.

“Thank you, seriously. And I will be paying you back for this,” you say, bumping your shoulder with hers.

“I said you ain’t gotta do anyth-”

You cut her off, “I said. I’m. Paying. You. Back. Just accept it, I’m not budging.”

All she gives as an answer is a huff through her nose, but the smile that stretches her lips makes you feel fluttery. Her smile is not a rare sight, but it’s rare that you get to see it this close. When she faces away for only a couple seconds, you take the time to just take her in. Beautiful.

In the hall, a conversation between Barbara and Ava about clearing an extra bulletin board for the kindergarteners art projects was halted when they caught Melissa watching you with Karam. Both women looked at her, unseen even by Melissa’s typically sensitive attention, and all they saw was a soft putty of a woman. When you returned to the classroom, they slowly got closer to see what was going on, curiosity drawing them in.

All they could see were gentle, shy smiles and hidden glances of adoration for each other. It clicked in their minds at the same moment. Their best friends had it bad for each other.

Their plan was formed in a single glance.

—☽—

“So… What are you gonna do about Red?” Ava asks as she reaches the midpoint of her braid.

You’re sitting behind her on a cushion, parting a section in the back of her head to start on a braid yourself. Your focus makes your response time slower and quieter than usual, “what d’ya mean?”

Ava’s chuckles, “how you’ve got the hots for Schemmenti.”

Her obvious tone makes you stall, too long, but you try to deflect anyway, “I’ve got no clue what you mean.”

She laughs. Ava laughs and it would be in your face if she weren’t so busy with her hair. She doesn’t need to turn to know you’ve got that shocked expression on your face, the one where your eyes are wide and blank, face otherwise neutral, but she knows the expression well. The first time she’d seen it was the day she met you in seventh grade, and she proclaimed you her best friend to everyone in the cafeteria, just a mere three hours after meeting each other.

“Don’t lie to me, Gremlin,” she jokes, using her nickname for you she adopted from your favorite movie as a kid, “I know when you like someone, and you want that Italian sub to Italian dom you.”

“I hate you,” you groan, “if you mention even a single thing to her Ava, I will buy out all the caramel hair from the beauty supply and you’ll never see it again.” She gasps, as if it were a real threat you could carry out on your budget, but she knows how serious you are. With a roll of her eyes, Ava decides to hold off until you’re not braiding her hair to annoy you more.

Much later into the night and all there is really left to do is trim, seal, and add products to her roots, Ava knows she can’t let the topic of the previous conversation go. She decides to speak up while she trims the last few front pieces and you pick up the hair packaging and combs from around the room.

“Just saying though, if you stopped making ‘I wanna have your babies’ eyes, you could ask her out,” Ava tries to explain. She almost adds a what’s the worst that could happen? but she knows exactly where your mind will go.

“I don’t wanna ‘have her babies,’ you freak,” you sigh as you get some hot water, “I just… I dunno. I don’t want to ruin the friendship I have with her when she inevitably rejects me.”

She’s obsessed with you, she won’t reject you, Ava wants to say. Even if others, and even herself, would label her selfish, the one thing she doesn’t ever let slide is you letting your insecurity get the best of you. She likes her extra job as your personal hype-woman when you get in your head. Ava weighs her option, “well… you could put out some feelers. Invite her somewhere or, I don’t know, look her in the eye when you talk to her.”

“You’re right,” you say with a gruffness that she knows is defeat. If she can just get you and Melissa talking, interacting more, then maybe she and Barb can figure out a way to worm you two together.

“You do like her, don’t you?” She knows the answer, she wants you to say it though.

There’s a deep inhale before you answer, “of course I do. She- she’s so- I do like her, so much. Like, I want to bite a chunk out of the table when she looks at me.”

“Yeah, don’t do that, we don’t know where they’ve been,” Ava says with a touch of disgust, “and she’ll think you’re more of a freak than you already are.” She rightfully earns a smack on the shoulder at that one.

Dipping the ends of her hair into the hot water, you think silently. Ava has a point, if you spent even a tenth of the time you spend thinking about Melissa, when she was right in front of you, talking to her instead, you’d probably not be so nervous at the thought of making eye contact with her. Sometimes it was nice though, just getting to look at her, seeing her easy smile when she speaks to Barbara and the playful glint in her eye when she lovingly picks on Jacob. Whenever her attention falls on you, you shy away. Maybe Ava has a point.

At Barbara and Melissa’s weekly brunch that same Saturday morning, their conversation falls down a similar path.

Ever the professional deterrer, Melissa manages to push the conversation away from the topic of you, trying to keep Barb on Gerald or bible club. Usually her friend catches the hint to stay away from the topic, but there’s no way she was getting out of this one.

“So… are we gonna keep beating around the bush or are we going to talk about it?”

Melissa just sips her mimosa, suddenly interested in the painting across the room.

“Melissa.”

What… interesting brush strokes.

“Melissa Ann, so help me.”

She turns back, “yes, Barb?”

“Don’t ‘yes, Barb’ me. Spill,” there is no room for argument.

“There’s nothing to spill, Barb,” Melissa says, and she means it. It’s clear Barbara had picked up on her feelings for you, but nothing had been done to go past acknowledging she cared for you.

Barb tilts her head to the side, “oh, really? So, we’re just going to pretend that you’re not utterly infatuated with everyone’s new favorite third grade teacher?” Melissa stares at Barbara with wide eyes, thrown off by the blunt nature of her inquiry. Her friend only shakes her head, “for the good Lord’s sake, Melissa. Anyone with eyes can see you’ve got feelings for them, and I know you know that too.”

Green eyes shift away from brown, and they instead stare at the drink in front of her, nervous hands coming up to play with the umbrella to keep them busy instead of shaking in her lap. What Barb said wasn’t untrue, she knows it. Barbara Howard is always right in the end. But that isn’t where the apprehension in her gut stems from.

“Yeah, yeah. I know,” Melissa mumbles, insecurity from her mind reaching her throat.

Barbara can sense it and tries a softer approach, “I think I can say on good authority that the feelings are probably mutual. You could give it a shot, they’d be lucky to have you.”

“And what’s that good authority?”

“My eyes,” Barbara deadpans, her face reading are you serious?

The conversation stops there, more of a self preservation move for the kindergarten teacher. Underneath the silence from Melissa, it’s obvious her mind is going in circles trying to weigh her options. Did she have feelings for you? Yes. But would she do anything if she wasn’t one hundred percent certain you’d return her feelings? No. She was almost certain you didn’t, you rarely ever looked her in the eye and you got all quiet and mumbly when she spoke.

Conclusion: Barb’s nuts.

—☽—

When Monday comes back around, you feel like the air in the lounge, or at least around your table, is different. Barbara’s eyes keep shifting between you and Melissa in what she thinks are subtle glances, but the constant eyes on you start making you nervous. Shifting uncomfortably for a moment, you rise from your chair to go to the coffee pot to get away from the prying. While your back is to them, a different form of attention falls on you. Olive eyes scan over you with a soft glint, taking the opportunity to admire you when you’re not looking. Her attention feels different from Barb’s, you can feel it without seeing it. It’s warm, all consuming.

When you turn back around, you can see a section of Melissa’s hair swinging slightly from motion. She was looking at you, and she was hiding it horribly. Instead of mentioning it, you just sit and check your school email. In the weekly scheduling, you see that the recess duty that you typically had with Mrs. Benning from sixth grade, was now with Melissa for the entire week.

Your eyebrows jump slightly at the find, before you have to fight an eye roll at Ava’s obvious meddling. Seeing this, Melissa speaks up, “something interesting?”

“No, no,” you barely get out at a normal cadence, “just switches in the schedule, wasn’t expecting it.”

She nods slowly, “are you… not okay with that?” You try not to pout at the insecurity that bleeds just the smallest amount in her question.

“Of course I’m okay with it, no reason not to be,” you hope your genuineness was showing, “just different is all.” A muted smirk crosses her lips before she takes a sip of her coffee to cover her face, you pretend not to notice the move, as well as the butterflies swarming in your stomach. You turn your attention to your phone in your lap.

To AVA ♔ : you’re not slick

From AVA ♔ : good thing i wasn’t trying to be

From AVA ♔ : get up in that cannoli

To AVA ♔ : speaking privileges revoked until further notice

You try to not think about the prospect of an extra half hour with Melissa today, and for the rest of the week, but the thought of her crosses your mind and brings a smile to your face. When you are walking your kids back from music, you selfishly take the extra second you’re in the hall to glance towards Melissa’s classroom. Cursive letters on the board in her loopy handwriting being narrated by her expressive face and fast-moving hands. Another grin crosses your lips before you spin on your heel back to your room.

As lunch rolls around, there’s a giddy feeling in your chest that grows with every passing second. Was she even going to talk to you? Maybe not, but time with Melissa is time with Melissa. Just when you’re sliding your gloves on, there’s a tap at your door. Red hair tucked under an Eagles hat and thick black jacket, she’s never been more beautiful.

Winter at Abbott meant beautifully crafted snowmen that had just a touch of dirt on it, but the kids just decided it was freckles. Most of them were working together on their snowmen, while others were trying to see how long they could hang upside down on the monkey bars in their snow clothes. Melissa, after five minutes of churning the idea over in her mind, moves closer to you, the nylon of your jackets making a fssh sound as they brush together gently. The red on her cheeks was likely from the cold, but the darker shade that blossoms at you smiling and turning to her, that’s all you.

The silence between you is easy, for once it doesn’t make Melissa skeptical. It’s comforting, no nervous rambling or awkward attempts to fill the silence, just peaceful silence as your shoulder moves closer to hers.

Tuesday is just the same, with Melissa coming to your classroom to pick you up for recess duty. Wednesday you meet her in your doorway. The peaceful silence is broken when you check your phone to see copious texts in the teacher group chat, most of which are Janine and Jacob and only two are Gregory. All you let out is a little hum.

“What’s going on?” Melissa asks from beside you, her eyes staying on Marcus attempting to climb on top of the monkey bars.

“Groupchat’s going crazy. Janine and Jacob want a ‘teacher’s night out plus Ava,’ and they’re asking if everyone’s good to go next Friday at seven,” your tone suggests a bit of disinterest, but if Melissa goes, you could be easily persuaded.

Her brows scrunch for only a half second before asking, “what bar?”

“The Penman’s Alcove? Guess Jacob suggested it,” you say after scrolling through the nearly forty messages.

“Sounds like Jacob suggested it,” she says with a sputtered laugh. To her delight, you chuckle from beside her, and she brings her full attention to you, “you going?”

You bite your inner lip and flick your eyes to the side, “maybe. Are you?”

“Maybe.”

—☽—

Ava, who always demands you pick her up when you go out, insists on driving to the bar. When she gets to your apartment and does a once over of your jeans and loose-fitting sweater, she gives you a face of disapproval.

“That is not club attire. What ladies are you going to pick up if you’re dressed like a grandma?”

You roll your eyes as you move to let her in, “it’s not a club, it’s a bar. That Jacob picked out. And I’m not trying to ‘pick up’ ladies?”

“Aw, you’re already committed to Schemmenti. Cute,” her laugh at her own comment is cut off by the pillow you whip at her head, another ready if she pipes up again, “no need to get violent, I’ll stop.”

Her only reply is a huff as you grab your boots and shove in your fluffy-socked feet. Ava rises off the couch, leaving the pillow-turned-missile behind. When she’d asked you earlier in the day if ‘your woman’ was coming to the bar, you’d only shrugged, but with a quick text to Barbara, Ava knew the redhead would be there.

Barbara and Ava had made a pact, that despite their differing reasons for not wanting to go, would only attend the outing to insure that you and Melissa would both go as well. It had taken some convincing on Melissa’s end, but the moment her best friend said your name, her tune changed. She agreed to go as long as she drove herself there, so that when she wanted to inevitably leave early, she could.

As Ava pulls into the parking lot of the bar, neither of you hold back the rolling of your eyes. It was very Jacob. You share a look with your best friend, silently asking what did we agree to?

The Penman’s Alcove is tiny, shoved into one of the smallest brick buildings either of you had ever seen. One window was completely blocked off by a decorative book display, the other gave view to the wooden bar top and wooden support beam that was turned into a cylindrical bookcase with lights weaving around it. What is lacking in space, it clearly made up for in atmosphere.

“You both came!” Jacob’s voice echoes from the door to where you and Ava stand as you evaluate the building. You immediately elbow Ava to stop the joke that you could feel on the tip of her tongue.

“Said I would, didn’t I?” you asked as you got closer, appreciating how Jacob switched his arms from the instinctive hug he wanted to give to giving you a gentle pat on the shoulder. “Anyone else here yet?”

“Well, Janine, Gregory, me, duh, Barbara, and Melissa just got here, so,” his voice becomes a little sheepish, “you’re the last ones here.”

“Fashionably late,” you and Ava say at the same time, though your tone is more flat since you only said it because you knew she would.

Walking into the bar, the small space didn’t feel bigger, just smaller as you realized just how many shelves of countless books there were. The twenty person capacity limit was starting to make sense as you quickly side stepped around other people to keep up with Jacob. Everyone comes into view, but as green eyes meet yours, cameo light surrounds her and she’s all you can see. The stutter in your step is noticed by no one but Ava, who subtly grabs your arm to pull you closer to everyone, closer to Melissa.

Greetings and small talk fill the space, but all of it is background noise. When Janine finally releases you from her energetic retelling of the four hours it’s been since she last saw you, your attention is finally able to rest on the woman who it had been dying to be on. Melissa sees your eyes flick around until they find her, and she curses how her heart flutters at the way you move towards her in an instant.

Leaning your arms on the bartop, you lean over slightly to order a rum and coke before turning entirely towards the redhead. Even though it had been barely four hours since you’d seen her, you felt yourself missing her. Her eyes, her hair, her laugh, especially the one she barks out when she can’t control herself and laughs suddenly. Something in the navy shirt she wore instead of her bright greens and pinks told you she wanted to fit into the environment, like she didn’t want anyone to see her in such a… Jacob place. Her attempt to keep attention away, yet for you it was impossible not to be drawn to her.

Just like every other time you saw her, your eyes quickly dipped to her neck, a tiny smile passing your lips at her Saint Dominic pendant she had received from her Nana before she’d passed. When you met her eyes, the small smile on your lips grew, and hers did to match.

“Thought you’d never show up,” Melissa says playfully, but with a quiet tone, her words only for you.

“Surprised you even showed,” you mimicked her tone.

Melissa weighs her options before replying, “Barbara told me I should, told me I can count it as my good act of the year.” She relishes in your silent laugh, little puffed breaths leaving you as you turn your face away from her just for a moment to hide. Melissa had realized three days into knowing you that this was her favorite thing, this quiet laugh of yours, she knew that when you turned away, it meant it was genuine.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here,” you say with earnest, “if that's any consolation.”

A smile plays on glossy, pink lips, “I’m glad I’m here, too.”

Two drinks later, and you found yourself meandering through the shelves of books, naturally being drawn to the fantasy section that was oddly close to the classics you also enjoyed. The small bar had reached capacity only a half hour after you’d arrived, and the bustling conversation was starting to pierce your eardrums. The cushions on the floor had become your new seat, in this almost-quiet corner.

The light vibrations of footsteps approaching brings your mind out of the dragon story you were falling into. Your eyes look up to see red hair contrasting against the shadows from the shelves. Melissa lowers herself carefully onto the cushion beside you, taking utmost care in not getting too far into your space. Her finger pokes the book in your hands, pushing it closer to you to read the cover, only a low hum leaving her throat.

She bumps her knee with yours, a silent you alright? She’s seen you get overwhelmed at assemblies and work parties before, often keeping an eye on you as you stuck to a corner, too polite to leave the room. You bump her knee back, a little smile on your lips, a quiet I’m okay. Melissa plays with the creases in her jeans as she tries to think of what to say, but you beat her to it.

“You know what’s fucked? You can’t even check out the books here,” you state with exasperation. “What’s the point of having all these books if you can only read them if you come here?”

Melissa warms with affection at your word, “No one would bring them back, hon.”

“I would,” you mumble with an incredulous tone in your voice, “but no, not even a checkout fee or, I don’t know, collateral.”

“Collateral!” Melissa laughs out. “Gonna hand over your watch to hold onto until you bring the book back?”

“I’d give them my car for those early editions of Mary Shelley’s work,” you half-joke as you nod towards the faded green and blue books. You look at Melissa for a moment, reading her face quickly before leaning into her space, “don’t even suggest stealing them.”

“Would they even notice?”

“These IPA-enjoyers? Definitely, unfortunately.”

Melissa never cared much for the classics, especially not the ones assigned to her in school. She preferred the historical fiction and true crime novels her grandfather introduced her to, but there was something intriguing about the ones you were showing her. There is peace in the way your fingers trace over the pages, a sort of reverence in how you hold each book. Sylvia Plath and Emily Brontë, Greek tragedies and comedies, they never sounded this interesting as they did when they came from your lips.

The world outside of this hidden corner continues to disappear around the two of you, the prying eyes peeking around the corner are completely lost on the two of you. Your eyes on the books, Melissa’s eyes on you. Ava and Barbara’s eyes, on the other hand, were flicking between the two of you before finding each other's eyes. A shared nod began the next step in their plan.

Ava, in a highly out of character fashion, quietly left the bar without saying anything to anyone, and drove off towards Iggy’s apartment. Barbara, pretending not to notice, went back to her conversation with Gregory regarding what he plans on growing in the garden for springtime. It’s Janine who notices Ava’s lacking presence, she peeks out into the parking lot, and sure enough, the silver car you’d arrived in was gone.

In a child-like fashion, Janine tugs on Barbara’s sleeve to gain her attention, “Ava’s gone.”

“What?” Barbara responds with faux surprise.

“Ava, she left. Like, gone. Not here,” without having to ask Barbara to be the one to tell you, Janine was definitely hinting at not being the one to say your best friend ditched you here.

The kindergarten teacher follows the maze of shelves, steps quickening as she gets closer to hushed voices in the furthest corner. In your own little, say you and Melissa, her legs stretched out as she leaned back against her hands while you sat close to her in criss-cross. There are two piles of older books in front of you, ones you had already shown her and the ones you were going to, and Melissa seemed completely unbothered by the infodumping you laid upon her.

Barbara politely clears her throat to make you aware of her presence, watching you nearly jumping away from Melissa as you realize the closeness between you. Pretending not to notice she speaks carefully, “dear, I just wanted to tell you that Ava left a couple of minutes ago.”

The nerves you felt dissipate, annoyance and a small anger taking its place, “what do you mean? She fully just left? Did she even say anything?”

“No, she must’ve snuck out. Janine noticed before the rest of us that she’d taken off,” Barbara is impressed by her own ability to fib so easily.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, keeping yourself from exploding. You rise from your spot next to the redhead, who is quick to follow in your stride, and grab your phone to call you friend. Speedily stepping through the shelves, you step outside as you press Ava’s contact.

She picks up on the second ring, which only pisses you off further, “what’s up, boo?”

“Where the fuck are you? You did not just seriously ditch me,” you waste no time.

“That little library was not the vibe. Plus, you were too busy nerding it up with Red,” she jokes, almost mockingly.

“You were my ride, Ava,” you sigh, “this isn’t cool, especially when I’m going to have to ask Janine to drive me home since she carpooled with Jacob and Gregory.”

“I know who you can ask for a ride,” the laugh she speaks through only hammers home your aggravation, “maybe she’ll give you more than one.”

A hard groan escapes your throat, “you owe me big time, asshole.”

“Yeah, yeah. Thank me later,” she hangs up on you before you can respond, the beeping tone of the disconnection feels more mocking than your friend straight up laughing in your ear.

When you step back inside, your brows are furrowed, deep creases on your forehead as you practically steam with anger. Never before would Janine, Gregory, or Jacob say they were intimidated by you, but right now, they can’t deny that you are almost as frightening as Melissa’s angry walk. Barbara looks at Melissa pointedly, motioning with her head towards you to tell her to talk to you.

The redhead is already in motion, immediately in front of you, “what did she say?”

Sarcasm and irritation drop from your voice, “the ‘library’ wasn’t ‘her vibe,’ so she’s apparently ditching me to ride home with Gregory and the Chipmunks.”

She doesn’t want to laugh at your predicament, but she can’t help it. Her hand rises to rub your arm reassuringly, “I’ll drive you home.”

“You don’t ha-”

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to. Let me get you home,” the gentleness in her voice makes the icy anger in you melt into a puddle, the hand on your arm was grounding.

“Okay,” your voice just above a whisper in the space between you.

“Okay,” her tone matching yours as she smiles.

Melissa’s car is warm, her presence beside you warmer. With only a couple blocks left before you reach your apartment, you find yourself wishing you knew how to slow, or even stop, time. Would inviting her upstairs seem forward? Is asking her if she wants coffee better? No, stupid, who wants coffee at ten at night? All you need is to be around her.

When her car parks in the lot of your building, neither of you move, not you to get out or her to tell you to. You turn your face towards her, resting your chin on your shoulder, peering through your lashes at her. She matches your position, looking back at you with a little grin.

“Thank you for listening to me,” your voice is quiet and insecure.

Melissa leans a little closer, “thank you for letting me.”

“I’ll see you Monday?” You don’t want to leave, but despite it being Friday, it has also been a school day. You’re tired, and you can see in her slightly droopy eyes that she is too.

“Bright and early,” she answers, eyes flicking to your lips shortly in a way you wish you hadn’t seen. She makes it impossible to want to leave.

Melissa stays in her parking spot until you disappear into the building, not before you glance once more at her and wave shyly. Her head rests against the steering wheel as she struggles to compose herself, before pulling out on the street.

You both fall asleep that night to dreams about the secret corner you’d found yourselves in, books stacked around while your eyes stayed on each other.

—☽—

There’s a certain pep in your step come Monday morning, but a small amount of dread knowing you’ll have to face Ava later. She knew better to keep her distance over the weekend, but though your annoyance with her was fading, it was definitely there. You push into the lounge, immediately gravitating towards the coffeemaker.

You enjoy the hum of the TV, Jim Gardener’s voice coming from the speakers as you focus on Melissa in your periphery. Clicking steps in the hallway stiffen your back, all eyes in the room shifting to you as your best friend, boss, and ditcher enters. The cocky smile on her face falls when you stand and leave the room without a word.

“Seriously? Still mad?” Ava asks with such a genuine tone that Gregory’s head drops into his hands.

Melissa speaks before Ava can even blink, feeling like she had to defend you after seeing how upset you’d been, “so selfish you couldn’t even give a heads up? Some best friend you are, ditching them.” Ava only responds by raising her hands in defeat, giving up on an argument with Melissa before it starts.

“You checking on that one or should I?” Mr. Johnson asks from the doorway where he’s collecting the trash, his eyes set on Melissa. His answer is just the second grade teacher pointing at herself in question, surprised that he would’ve thought of her to check on you. His face screws up, “duh? Who else?”

She listens. When Melissa reaches your classroom, quickly carried by fast and angry steps, she sees you at your whiteboard, writing the agenda and date on it. The unusually harsh strokes of your writing show her exactly what mood she’s walking into. She almost jumps when she knocks on the door and your head whips her way, hard face softening.

“Hey,” you breathe out, going back to writing the afternoon’s schedule.

“Hey. I just wanted to check on you,” she she says as she slides the orange marker down towards you.

“I’m fine, really. I’m mostly just pissed Ava left me like that and thinks it’s hilarious. You’d think I would be used to it by now, but apparently not,” you huff, “just like her mom always says, Ava’s gonna Ava.”

“How long you giving her the silent treatment?”

“Till she actually apologizes and doesn’t just assume it’s all good, it’s the only way. I’m not even that mad about it, if she wanted to leave she could’ve just said,” you shift your weight from foot to foot, “it’s the principle of it.”

Melissa glances over your face, grateful you don’t seem to notice, and she realizes it's less anger, more disappointment. It’s so starkly different from the smile that played on your lips and the gleam in your eyes just the other night. She so badly wants that back, she craves your smile.

It took three days for Ava to finally apologize, and she only does when she comes over to your apartment, no interest in letting the other hear her grovel. She hadn’t meant to make you upset, she was just trying to get you and Melissa alone, and so far, her efforts seemed to be working. She was diligent to not let out that it was a joint plan between her and Barbara, and that Melissa was getting played just as much as you.

—☽—

A snow storm Thursday night almost takes out your power, and the chill seeps through the brick walls, forcing you to bed early in a bundle of blankets. You wake up to your phone ringing at five in the morning, only a half hour before your alarm was to go off. Seeing Ava’s contact worried you immediately.

“What?” you say through a yawn, “are you okay?”

“Aw, you love me,” she jokes through her own large yawn.

“I do. Now, what do you want?”

“It’s a snow day, bitch. The roads aren’t too bad, but apparently the buses are fucked.”

You sigh with contentment, “snow day means I’m going back to bed.”

“Okay, lazy. I’ll see you tomorrow for wine night?”

You can barely answer through another yawn, “yeah, yeah. I’ll be there.”

It’s not until ten that you wake up again, sunlight reflecting off the fresh snow and making your room too bright to stay asleep any longer. The air in the room is too cold for your taste, leaving you to wrap your throw blanket around yourself as you trudge out to your kitchen for the promise of warm coffee. As coffee drips into the pot, the star-printed throw is replaced by your favorite grey sweatshirt, the faded university logo still maintaining a touch of the maroon and silver it once was.

The second cup of coffee tastes of cinnamon and cream, the warmth keeping your hands from stiffening under the cold of your building. No matter how much you turned up the heat, the draft made it obsolete. As you pour a third cup, clinging to the warmth it gave, you feel your phone buzz in your Abbott sweatpants.

From Melissa: How busy are you today?

To Melissa: on a snow day? not at all. why?

From Melissa: I’ve got a surprise for you.

To Melissa: should i be worried?

From Melissa: Do you trust me?

To Melissa: you know i do

When she doesn’t answer, anticipation starts to take hold. It hits you as you nervously sip your coffee, you’re still in your pajamas and Melissa is coming. You tumble down to your room, switching the sweatpants for an old pair of jeans, the faded sweatshirt for a thick black sweater, fluffy socks into slippers. Part of you grapples if you should make coffee for the both of you, the other part tells you a fourth cup may give you a heart attack upon seeing Melissa, your heart would never be able to take it.

A quiet ping from your phone alerts you that Melissa is down in the lot as she waits for you. You don’t even take a moment to answer, just quickly throwing on your denim jacket before hurrying down the steps to the bottom floor. Peeking your head out, you see the only car with lights on, the familiar black car making you smile. The snow had slowed overnight, wisps still quickly sticking to your hair and clothes.

Melissa doesn’t notice your approach, not until you tap on her frosted window with your knuckles, making her jump. She was lost in her mind, thinking about how bad of an idea it was, startling quickly at your tap, but quickly soothed by your smile and little wave. Melissa steps out of the car, leaning against it to keep you from peeking in her window and seeing the passenger seat.

“You really shouldn’t’ve driven, what if the roads were nasty?” you say with concern, despite the fact that you couldn’t be happier with her presence.

“They weren’t, I got here just fine,” she says, placating the worry.

You can’t even hide the smile that shows itself, “what sort of surprise was worth the black ice?”

“There was no black ice,” she laughs, shifting under your gaze, “but I hope it’s a surprise you’ll like.” There’s an unusual nervousness in her, one that you can’t help but feel and want to soothe.

“If it’s from you, I definitely will.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Try me,” you cock your head to the side, a sly smirk on your face. Melissa ducks her face, concealing her blush. She opens the door, leaning in to grab the bag from the seat. A deep breath leaves her lungs as she composes herself before facing you. The paper bag is stretched out towards you, green eyes begging you to relieve her of this weight.

You try to be careful, not wanting the gentle snow to touch the contents. Peering up at Melissa, she urges you to open it. You reach in and feel something, a cloth covered board you think, until you feel what you think are pages. A book? No, three.

You pull back your hand, the books coming with it. A faded green cover with black serif text reads Frankenstein, the blue reads The Short-Stories of Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley: A Complete Collection, and the final red one, Mathilda. The books you had fawned over a week ago were now in your hands, the very same you said you’d give your car for. No words form, only thick tears in your eyes that you pray don’t fall. They were the exact same books, the copies from the bar, and now they’re in your hands.

You can only look at the redhead, absolutely bewildered. She gives you a weak smile, having a hard time gauging your reaction and you slide the books back into the bag to protect them. There’s no warning, not verbal or even a glint in your eye, before you fling yourself onto her, wrapping your arms around her neck.

“Thank you, oh my fucking God, thank you, thank you, what the fuck?” your words fall out of your mouth, barely able to contain the delight running through your veins.

Melissa doesn’t answer right away, only wrapping her arms around you and basking in the feeling of you there. You smell like coffee and cinnamon, she wishes she could find out if your lips taste the same. Neither of you move, not wanting to be the one who breaks away first.

After a minute, your face lifts from her neck, but you don’t remove yourself from her arms. She meets your gaze, watching you watch her. Melissa is the most beautiful person you’ll ever meet, you’re sure of it. But right here, right now? She’d never been more so, nothing else compared to the snow stuck to her lashes, the pink of her cheeks from the chilled air, the lack of makeup across her skin allowing you to see all her freckles and the lines around her eyes.

“You got me the books,” it's a simple sentence, but there’s a weight to it that Melissa almost can’t handle.

She smiles so softly it makes you want to cry, “you love them, you wanted them.” The look in your eyes changes, and Melissa seems to notice. She finally speaks up, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing is, at least I hope not,” you answer truthfully.

“Why that look on your face then?” Her lips look so soft, you have to tell her.

You swallow your pride, pursing your lips before telling her the thought that had been on your mind since you met her, “I really want to kiss you.”

It appears she feels the same, Melissa immediately leans into you, lips pressing to yours. You knew they’d be soft, and God were they. Her hands plant themselves on your hips while yours cup her neck, pulling her as close as you possibly can. Spinning suddenly, you find yourself pressed against her car, cold metal freezing you through your layers, but warm lips make the cold feel little. For someone so abrasive, Melissa was so soft, holding you like you were the most precious thing to her. Her tongue licked at your bottom lip, asking for entry. And who are you to deny her?

Her tongue traces yours, a groan comes from deep in your chest that only spurs her on further. She presses impossibly closer to you, hands sliding up to hold you at your ribs, pressing into your jacket in an attempt to get closer. Your blunt nails dig into her neck, not enough to hurt, just to feel more of her. All you’ve wanted since you met her was to be this close, and it felt like an unreachable dream until now.

Her lips pull away, only to be chased by yours. You press gentle, chaste kisses to her lips, and it only becomes more difficult as matching dopey grins grow on your faces. Her hand rises to your cheek, caressing the chilled skin that warms under her touch.

She barely hears your words over her rapidly beating heart, “you’re so pretty.”

“Haven’t seen yourself then, huh?” she jokes, pretending your statement didn’t make her feel like a giggly teenager.

“Funny, but I mean it. You’re so pretty,” your hand shifts around her cup her jaw, “I can’t believe you got those books for me. How?”

She smirks to herself, “I just asked nicely.”

“Nicely? Did you bat your lashes and give them that award-winning smile?” The sarcasm that should have been there sounds more like adoration, the lazy smile on your lips making them look even more kissable than they’d been before.

“Exactly, they just handed them right over,” she feels like a pile of mush with you looking at her like this.

The hand on her jaw pulls her in closer, “they’d be stupid not to.” There’s no chance to reply, just your lips pressing to hers again. It feels as easy as breathing with you, like she was supposed to be doing this the whole time. When you pull away, it’s just barely, a silent request in the way you stroke her cheek.

Reluctantly, she pulls away from you to take her keys out of the ignition and grabs her purse from the floor of the car. An arm wraps around hers as you lead her towards the door to your building, the other tightly holds the books against your chest. It was too soon to say it, but you knew that right here, right now, you were utterly in love with Melissa Schemmenti. The woman who probably threatened the employees at the Penman’s Alcove for the books when they said she couldn’t buy them, the one who listened for two hours as you spoke about authors and books she’d never cared about before.

She cared now. She cared because you did.

Melissa knew the moment you saw the books, that she would do whatever it takes to see that wonder on your face again. She thinks to herself that endeavor would be a good way to spend the rest of her life.

title is from a quote from mary shelley’s frankenstein: “you are still, as you ever were, beyond beautiful expression.”

i chose the st. dominic for mel’s pendant bc hes typically worn by educators

feedback appreciated as always <3

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #lisa ann walter #abbott elementary #lgbtq fanfiction #lesbian #lgbtq

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frogaroundandfindout · 5 months

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Random highly specific dick grayson fanfics I’ve been craving

An exhausted 18/19 yr old Dick finding Jason trying to steal the wheels off of Nightbird (his car) and instead of reprimanding him he just launches into a really proud rant about his car and how much work he put into her and god kid you got a good eye for parts. I just replaced the tires with ones where the rubber self heals. And none of that commercial crap either, actual self healing rubber that could get a bullet shot through it and still close up a second later. Oh and did you notice the seats? Just polished the leather on em! Go on sit, sit! Comfy, huh? You wanna get a bite to eat? Cool. I think bat burger’s hero-meal comes with a bat-mobile toy. Not as cool as my lovely lady of course, but close enough. Jason is absolutely baffled. This is Nightwing? The one all those new gangs that moved from bludhaven decided facing was worse than fighting for territory in the narrows? Fleeing unsuccessfully might be add considering Nightwing’s presence in gotham. He was so…nice? In that weird slightly off putting way that most of the real good people he knows have.

Dick and Damian both longing for the days where it was just them: Batman and Robin. The best. Dick having a whole moment where he curls around nearly completed adoption papers and sobs because Damian was his. For a year Damian was his to protect, his to guide, his to love. But now they aren’t even in the same city and barely go on patrols together let alone have movie nights cuddled up on the couch (it’s only reasonable Richard. Penguins huddle to conserve body heat). And Damian in the manor staring blankly at his drawing of gotham that Bruce hung up in his office. He didn’t make it for him. He made it for Richard. But what was he supposed to do when Father saw a piece dedicated to “dad” while Damian was flipping through his sketchbook? Tell him it was actually for his oldest son instead of him? Tell him that sometimes Damian wishes bruce never came back so that Richard didn’t have step back from them?

Dick who cooks tons of different cultural dishes within the same meal (like rice and curry served at the same time as sushi and fried plantains) and when questioned about it he’s just like ???? That’s what my mom used to do??? We lived in so many different places it felt weird limiting our food to one culture per meal.

Dick being like Garfield Logan’s big brother long before Jason comes into the mix. Gar frequently turning into a baby elephant just because it makes dick coo over him more than any form. Even a kitten!

#dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd #Dc au #Dc prompt

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exquisitepluviophile · 2 months

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pairing: jess mariano x fem!reader

summary: jess does not want to, and would never dance. except this one time

chapter warnings: none to my knowledge!!

A/N: Guess what dumbass pressed ctrl z and deleted all her work so she had to type it out again. OKAY IT'S BEEN A WHOLE YEAR SINCE I POSTED OR SOMETHING BUT I GOT TIRED OF STUDYING AND DECIDED TO FINISH THIS UP TO TIE UP SOME LOOSE ENDS

You had your legs on a table of Luke's diner, and you could not fathom how anyone could ever be more bored than this. You had to sit through Liz Danes' bachelorette party. You could imagine anything that would have been better than this. Being out with Rory and Paris, talking to Lorelai, or even letting Michel show you pictures of his chow chows. Letting out a sigh, you went back to reading Anna Karenina while the middle-aged women were talking about women not being monogamous creatures. "Is this how turkey legs are supposed to look?" Luke asked with a pained expression on his face. Carrie, one of the louder ones, said something about him taking his pants off so they could see for themselves. As much as you hated it, their conversations were kind of interesting. "Get your legs off my table I've got customers eating on 'em," Luke scolded as he looked at the turkey leg in his hand, as if he hoped that it would tell him whether it was cooked or not. You put your legs down and continued reading.

"I need to get some batteries, I'll be back," Jess said as he walked down the stairs. He noticed you were at the diner and stopped in his tracks. "Didn't know that you liked spending your afternoons with middle aged women." That comment made Carrie and the other women gasp. "The old ladies I wanted to knit with were busy, so I had to find company."

"Good book though," He said while you hummed in response. "Jess, Jess! Come over here and meet my oldest friends!" Liz said as she beckoned him over. Jess looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there. "Girls, this is Jess," Liz said proudly. A chorus of 'hellos' sounded. "Hello, handsome," Carrie said as she winked. You had to stifle a laugh for the sake of Jess. "He's going to walk me down the aisle! Is that cool or what?" Liz said to her group.

"It's no big deal," Jess said, trying to draw away attention from him. You found this funny. "It's a very big deal," you said with a dramatic look on your face. Jess gave an unimpressed look. At that time, a deliveryman walked through the door.

"Can I help you?" Luke asked with the confusion written across his face. "Got a package here." "From who? I'm not expecting anything?"

"It's a very important package," the deliveryman said with a serious look on his face. Luke stepped closer. "But there's no address on it?"

Jess smirked as he looked over to you. "I was going to go to the bookstore after getting batteries. Care to join?" he said, extending his hand to you. Looking for any way to escape this situation, you obliged. "Bye Luke, see you later."

"Have fun," Jess said with a laugh as you left the diner and heard a muffled "Have fun with what?!" as music started blaring from the inside.

"I was already having a bad day and then some guy had to spill his coffee all over my new blouse and my copy of crime and punishment," you lamented to Jess while you walked towards the bookstore which you frequented. "I didn't have enough money to get myself a new copy and a new blouse, so I decided to get the blouse because of my internship." Jess smiled at that. You were hardworking and diligent, while he was... less of that. You just got the coveted internship at one of the most competitive law firms in Connecticut, and you needed to make a good impression; a shiny copy of crime and punishment accompanied by a coffee stained lavender blouse wouldn't exactly do that.

The jingle of the door chime woke you from your thoughts about your precious copy of crime and punishment. Jess bent his head and didn't say anything to Kirk, the acting cashier, while you smiled and greeted him. You knew he wasn't one for politeness, so you tried to compensate.

"There's something I think you'll like." Jess meandered towards a shelf hidden at the back. You cluelessly trailed, wondering what book it could be. Knowing Jess, it could be a 2000 page book about a whale or a 20 page romance novel; the man read anything and everything with words on it. When he pulled a book off a shelf, your jaw dropped.

The blood-red lettering reading "crime and punishment" contrasted starkly to the obsidian binding that you ran your fingertips across.

"wow, this must cost a fortune, maybe i'll get it once my paycheck can get me more than one cup of instant ramen."

"let's go, i need to see what the guy at the diner did to luke,"

"does this dress look like too much?" you ask while twirling around in front of Lorelai. "no, this one is perfect. It makes you look like you'd be sitting in a tower waiting for your prince to save you from a dragon." You looked at her while she lounged on the couch in the house you had graciously invited yourself into. Well, she wasn't wrong. The dress was a light blue, silky fabric billowing around your ankles. The sleeves added to the whimsicalness of the dress. "only if the prince was Jesse Bradford,"

"you know what would make Prince Bradford fall in love with you even more? this flower crown," Lorelai said as she got up and pulled out a pretty-looking headband from a shelf. She put it on you and turned you towards a mirror.

"rory never let me dress her up like a princess; i should adopt you."

"hear ye, hear ye! announcing the arrival of her Royal Highness, the Princess, finally gracing us with her presence!"

"shut up, i was five minutes late; being a princess is hard work, you should know," you joked to Jess. You two met up near the gazebo, his reasoning being that he needed to make fun of you all dressed up as long as he could before he had to walk his mom down the aisle. "do you want to go get a seat? you're gonna be here for a long time. or maybe not, i've only been to three of my mom's weddings. "aren't you gonna sit down too?" you asked. "my mom wants me there to give her "emotional support" whatever that means," he joked as he led you to a seat next to lorelai and luke. Carrie from the diner yesterday was talking to them. lorelai looked concerned and luke just looked uncomfortable.

"hey, is everything alright?"

"no, there's gonna be a delay since liz ripped her dress and it's gonna take some time to fix it," carrie explained. "she told me to spread the message,"

"well, spread it car." luke got a suggestive look from carrie. "the message, the message." When carrie walked away, luke looked like he hadn't gotten oxygen in a good five minutes. "that woman makes me uncomfortable."

"poor liz, does she know how to fix something like that?" you asked jess and luke. "she was never one for household skills-" "i used to stitch up her renaissance fair costumes. trust me, she can't" jess interrupted luke. "i'll go see if she needs some help. where did you say she was?"

"she's at miss patty's,

You could hear Liz's laments from outside miss patty's. "my dress is ruined! how am i going to get married in a torn dress?" you pushed open the doors to Miss Patty's and gave Liz a concerned look. "I heard you needed some help? can i do anything for you Liz?" you asked, moving over to take a look at her dress. "I'm such a klutz, i tripped standing up and now its torn," she held up the side of her dress where there was an obvious tear. You grimaced and picked up the Doose's brand sewing kit from the table next to her, attempting to fix her dress.

"There you go! as good as new," you finished up the last stitch on her dress. "Oh, you're such a darling," Liz fixed up her hair. "you'd make a great daughter in law to a lucky lady someday. Could you tell jess to get ready for my grand entrance?"

The implied message didn't go past you. With cheeks redder than what your dollar store blush could get you, you thanked her and went down to the gazebo.

The ceremony passed by quickly, with you and Jess trying to think of sad and miserable things to make you stop laughing at the proceedings. "Oh man, i swear to you my wedding's gonna be better than whatever that was," you said, wiping the tears of laughter from your eyes as everyone went to the buffet line to get some food. "We'll see that," jess said as he inspected a turkey leg before putting it on his plate. You gave him an offended look. "Do you not think my wedding would be so much better than this 1500s medieval thing going on out here? I'd totally pick out a better theme," you said as you piled some mysterious looking food onto your plate. "I highly doubt that, and I hope you know that what you're putting on your plate is minced liver."

Your hand froze right right before you almost dumped another spoonful food onto your plate. You promptly pushed off the whole serving of minced liver back into the serving bowl. "That was so uncouth of you, private school girl. Did they not teach you manners at your finishing school?" You elbowed jess in the side as you chose a much more appetising looking burger prepared specially, from luke's. "one, i'm in college now; two let's sit down. I don't think they taught you table manners either city boy,"

After finishing up your dinner, you two decided to walk around to socialise. If socialise meant to make fun of every person in renaissance attire.

"the guy in the pantaloons probably thinks energy drinks count as water," jess pressed his lips to your ear, narrowly missing your cheek because of how much you were laughing. Everyone must have thought you two were drunk or high, from how hard you two were laughing. That was when you heard medieval sounding music playing where everyone had gathered.

"jess. you have to dance to this. i physically need to see it," you clung onto his arm, bringing him to the area near the gazebo, where Liz and TJ were dancing. They were doing some complicated looking dance straight out of the middle ages. "no way am i doing that. i'd rather slam my tongue in a car door." "please...?" "no." "...pretty please?" "fine, but you're coming out there with me." and before you could say no, he'd already dragged you to the dancefloor.

you'd be lying if you said you didn't have fun embarrassing yourselves. you'd only been dragged out of the dancefloor because TJ wanted to seranade Liz with a special dance just for her, and boy, were you glad you didn't have to see that.

Jess was walking you over to the gilmore house, where you'd been crashing with lorelai since your exams had been over. You, being a rich international student who's parents knew Richard and Emily Gilmore, had been asked to stay with them when you went to Chilton, and to Yale subsequently. Of course you could always tell them that your exams hadn't ended yet, and you were still staying at Yale, but where's the fun in that? You, lorelai, and rory, were planning on having a weekend of binging old movies and junking on the most unhealthy food you could find, so being a few days early wasn't a problem.

"after this is back to new york?" you asked him while approaching the door of lorelai's house. "maybe not, this time. might stay here for a bit; it's not that bad," he responded, leaning on the door. "any plans for summer?" you looked up at him. "you know, i've always wanted a summer romance. you know the type you read in the books, the notebook and stuff like that," you played with the straps of your purse. "maybe that'll be one of my plans," he said as he grabbed your waist and held you right up to him. "want it to be longer than just summer though." he pressed his lips to yours as he ran his fingers through your hair. you took a second to react, but you were kissing him back too. when you pulled apart for air, breathing heavy, you smiled.

"can't wait"

wc: 2.1k

#jess mariano x reader #jess x reader #gilmore girls #jess mariano

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