#like she already had a French name but I want to change it a bit more

[byakuyasdarling]

I am plagued by domestic andreagami thoughts. terrible. better take the fan-kid out again…

[dira333]

Not what it looks like - Tendou x Reader

this was just spur of the moment, I don't think I captured him in all his glory, but enjoy... Haikyuu taglist: @lees-chaotic-brain

“What do you think Tendou’s girlfriend is going to be like?”

Your whole body locks up at the sound, or rather, the question being asked. 

“Well, she’s French, right? So she’s probably really arrogant. Pretty too.”

“What? You think he got himself a model? No way.” Laughter rings out, shaking you out of your state.

You get up from your chair, unsure where to go next. To the restrooms or -?

“Ah,” a friendly face smiles down at you, “We’re here to meet our friends. Table for ten? Semi, did Tendou say who the table was saved under?”

Your eyes flicker to the person behind him. He’s just as tall, with long, fair hair. 

“No,” Semi says, looking at you. “The table might be reserved under Tendou Satori, or Ushijima Wakatoshi.”

“Or Shiratorizawa,” another voice calls out behind them, “Sorry Guys, my shift change ran late.”

You’re unable to talk, but you point at the table behind you. There’s a little sign on it clearly stating it as “reserved for Shiratorizawa”.

“Ah, nice.” The first guy slips out of his coat and hands it to you. “Could you hang that up? That would be nice.”

“She’s a hostess, Goshiki, not your personal servant,” Semi chides behind him but you shake your head, glad to have a reason to get out of the way.

“Oh, it’s okay? Well, in that case-” He and the third guy follow suit and you trudge over to the coat rack to hang them up.

While there, a few other guys address you, all of them asking for the Shiratorizawa table.

You can’t help but glare down at your black and white costume that had looked so nice and fashionable at home. Now it only made you look like the hostess of a semi-expensive restaurant.

Maybe you could still go home and change your outfit? Surely no one would miss you for the next half hour until they were all caught up?

“Baby?” Your body locks up again only to relax when you realize Satori’s alone.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He pulls you into his arms, smoothing one hand over your back. “You look sad, everything okay?”

“I look like a waitress,” you whine low in your throat, unable to explain the extent of what just occurred.

“A very sexy waitress,” he points out, squeezing your hips.

“Not funny,” you say and you immediately feel how he leans over a bit to drop a kiss on the top of your head.

“Can I go home and change my outfit?” You ask after he’s swayed you left and right for a minute or so. “You can just say French people are always late or something like that.”

“That would be racist and wrong. Tell me what happened, chouchou.” 

You sniffle a little at the pet name but tell him nonetheless. He snickers into your hair when you’ve finished.

“They’re going to look so dumb when I introduce you to them.”

“They thought I was a waitress.”

“Yeah, because you’re so hot they didn’t think I could rizz you up.”

“Tori,” you chide, though already giggling softly, “If anything I don’t know how I got you.”

“Easy,” he hums, “just being yourself.”

-

It’s getting late. Over several courses - and multiple glasses of wine - your anxiety has lost its bite. But so has your focus. You’re leaning heavily into Satori, listening to a story Goshiki tells you, but you can barely follow along.

“And then I smacked the ball and it went WHAM across the court.” He says, finishing the story.

You clap your hands softly to show you listened, but you’re not really sure what this was all about.

He doesn’t seem to mind, however, grinning from one ear to the other.

“Tired?” Satori asks, lips pressed against your ear.

“Mhm,” you nod, blinking.

“You want a coffee before we leave?” He teasingly digs his teeth into your earlobe and you snort at the tickling sensation.

“No, I’m fine. I want to be able to sleep tonight.”

“Oh?” You can basically hear the waggling of his eyebrows so you lightly slap his thigh.

“What are you talking about?” Shirabu asks from across the table. “French makes it sound like you’re having intense bedroom talk.”

“Maybe we are,” Satori teases but you shake your head. You don’t want them to think wrong of you.

“You wanna go home right now?” Satori asks, loud enough that the others can hear him.

You immediately shake your head.

“No, no, we can stay a bit longer.”

Instead of dropping the topic Satori pulls you onto his lap, snuggling his face into your neck.

“You sure?” He asks again, quieter this time. “Because if I have to listen to Goshiki recap his latest game one more time-”

You can’t help but snort, but shake your head again. 

“Fine,” he huffs, “But you’re staying where you are.”

And you’re fine with that, cuddled against his warm chest, one arm holding you close, his fingers playing with the hem of your shirt.

-

At one point you must have fallen asleep because when wet, sloppy kisses wake you, you’re no longer sitting in the restaurant, but on the side of your bed.

“What happened?” You ask, groaning and giggling into the kisses.

“Well, you fell asleep and did that adorable little snore you do so I just had to take you home and tuck you in. You didn’t even wake up when Goshiki dropped his wallet on the floor.”

“Did you carry me into the car and all?” You ask, tired brain slow on the uptake.

“Of course. And up the stairs. Yamamoto-san says hi by the way.”

“That’s so embarrassing,” you groan, but you’re not able to hide your face in your hands, Satori still clinging to you like Velcro, nudging your cheek with his nose.

“Not embarassing. Cute. Really cute. Like everyone would want you for themselves cute.”

“You had too much wine,” you tell him, dragging your hands through his short hair. “I love you.”

“Love you more.”

“Love you most.”

“Dang it,” he chuckles, “Tricked me.”

My Kofi if you want to tip me

[mochinek0]

Daminette December 2023: 12-Betrayal (SUB)

CONTINUATION OF 10-DEFEATED...

The fashion department of Wayne Enterprise found the whole situation between Marinette Dupain-Cheng and Damian Wayne funny. Damian avoided their area, as demanded by the other Waynes and Marinette. They took to calling them Wayne Enterprise's own Romeo and Juliet, seperated by his family. Everyone knew they were dating.

Marinette had agreed to date him and Damian had been happy to try to work out his emotions. She had asked to keep their dates casual for a bit: coffee, movies, cafés. She didn't want anything big for at least six months, if they made it that far.

Damian refused to admit it, but he was excited. It had now been a year since he met her. She had changed his view of thinking and challenged him.

"Marinette, will you have dinner with me?" Damian questioned, as he handed her a coffee.

"Yeah." Marinette answered, "When?"

"I do not mean our usual dinner." he replied with a smirk, "It has been six months, as you requested. I would like to invite you out and make a reservation."

Mari looked at him, surprised.

'Has it actually been that long already? He has been nice and he hasn't gone back to how he was when we first met.'

"Yes." she smiled, "I'd love to."

Damian felt his lungs betray him, as he stood in Marinette's place. He hadn't expected Marinette to come out in a cocktail dress, her hair down in waves, or in heels. Damian thought back to those months long ago, when he confessed.

Damian felt his family walk away from them and give them privacy. Marinette had leaned close to him when they had left.

"If you think my business suits are innapropriate, Mr. Wayne, then we're gonna have a problem when we go out on an actual date." Marinette declared.

Damian had felt his ears warm up.

He didn't think she had been telling the truth. Her cocktail dress was above her knees and the dress was off the shoulder, revealing her collarbones.

"Ready to go, Damian?" Marinette asked.

"Yes." He answered, his heart betraying him further.

He had made sure to make a reservation ahead of asking her, just in case.

"I enjoyed our time at the resturant." Damian spoke, walking Marinette back to the door of her apartment.

Mari smiled, "It wasn't bad and the food wasn't horrible. It was nice to have French cuisine again. Maybe it's something we could do every other month?"

"I would find that enjoyable." the Wayne heir answered, "You were also correct. You surprised me with your apparel, yet again."

"Oh?" Marinette inquired, leaning in.

Marinette bent her knee backwards and lifted her leg, gaining his attention. Mari reached down and pulled wha appeared to be her skin. She could tell Damian was confused as to why her skin was elastic.

"Skin tone leg warmers." Marinette smiled, "Insulated, too."

Damian turned to her, about to ask a question, when she kissed him.

"Good night, Damian." Mari spoke before going inside and closing the door.

Damian stood outside the closed door. It took him a moment to realize she had really gone inside. He chuckled to himself.

'She still continues to surprise me. Mother would definitely like her.'

TAGLIST: @maribat-calendar-events@animeweebgirl@a-star-with-a-human-name@meme991001@vixen-uchiha@abrx2002@alysrose-starchild@fandom-trapped-03@dood-space@moonlightstar64@saltymiraculer@marveldcedits20@09shell-sea09@icerosecrystal@animegirlweeb@insane-fangirl-of-everything@blueblossombliss@nickristus-dreamer@megawhitleycalderonpaganus@missmadwoman@meira-3919@princessdaisysolosyourfaves@blep-23@fangirlingfanatic@darkhinauniverse@ravenr22@im-a-satanic-ritual@ravennm84@bianca-hooks123@a-slytherinish-gryffindor@starling218

[the-ace-with-spades]

another bit from the just hold my hand fic that probably won't ever be written

I wrote the little thingy about Bradley and Jake's middle kid, Ronnie, being a bit of Ice's favorite, and Mav might have a bit of a soft spot for PJ, their youngest (so far...) boy because of the shared name and the overall cuteness and clinginess PJ has.

But it's the twins, the oldest girls, Tommy and Nicky, that have everyone wrapped around their fingers.

This is mostly due to that one) they can speak, being almost six and all, two) they speak a lot and it's hard to keep up, and three) Mav and Ice missed the most out of their childhood, the over five years they didn't know Tommy and Nicky existed, so they might be overdoing it on spoiling them a little bit to catch up... (Or a lot, if you ask Bradley or Jake)

The thing is, the girls are starting school and with that, they meet new friends and this means new obsessions and things they want - it's mostly just trendy clothes, toys that they've never been interested in and dance and gymnastics classes, but nonetheless, it's something else.

Bradley and Jake are mostly good at fending off unnecessary or expensive requests and agreeing to the more reasonable ones (same as Jake's mom, who is used to having to budget for a lot of kids wants, being a mom of six herself), with Jake being the firmer hand on this occasion - Bradley was the one who stayed on parental leave with the kids when they were small and has a bit more of soft hand when it comes to spoiling them...

One of the things Nicky and Tommy get obsessed with is getting a puppy.

Obviously, Jake and Bradley say no. Not because they think a puppy would be bad for their family - Jake grew up with farm dogs and would love his kids to grow up with a dog - but because the logistics are a bit tough. There's already so much to do with four kids and more on the way, and dogs need a lot of attention as well. They're stationed in San Diego, for now, but it can also change, and it's hard enough trying to move a family of seven, not to mention a family of seven and a dog.

Now, Tommy and Nicky aren't blind to how much their grandpas are spoiling them. So they might or might not be especially vocal about wanting a dog around them. Maybe even suggest that they'd like a puppy for Christmas or something and just tell them about all the stuff they'd do with a puppy if they got one.

Of course Mav and Ice fall for it.

They're not as crazy as to buy/adopt a puppy for the kids without at least telling Bradley, and Bradley, you know, teases them a little for being so soft and letting themselves get 'manipulated' by six-year-olds but in the end, he tells them there's no way they can have a puppy now, no matter how much the girls want one.

The same night, Ice finds Mav browsing animal rescue sites on the couch, laptop on his knees as he makes notes in a little notebook.

Bradley said no, he signs, but Mav only shrugs.

"I know," Mav says and then pointedly, adds, "I'm not looking for a dog for them."

It takes Ice a minute to understand what Mav means but once he does, he sits down with him on the couch.

And it's not like Mav is looking for a dog just for the twins - he and Ice will be taking care of the puppy most of the time, and Mav admits that a dog is something he hasn't let himself have because of the life they were living (in the Navy, mainly) but he's retired now, and he had a dog when he was a kid and like it, and maybe it'll get Ice out of the house more often as well...

So, yeah, they get a french bulldog. And the kids love her - she was a rescue from a puppy farm and named Katharine Hepburn (called Hep by the breeders) and the kids swiftly rename her Kat, which everyone finds a bit silly but indulges.

Maybe Jake and Bradley give them a bit of a stinky eye over dinner (mostly Jake, not that Mav cares that much...), but Bradley only shakes his head and tells them they can't keep getting the kids everything they want. Well, personally Mav thinks they can at least try.

Kat is an amazing addition to the house. She likes to sleep in Ice's lap whenever he does paperwork in his office and prompts him for breaks when she begs for a walkie every few hours. She also makes them go out on walks on the beach or to the park more often and whenever the kids are there, she glows at the attention - they always keep an eye just in case the kids get a bit rough with her, but she's very patient and never gets bored enough to stop playing with them and lets the twins carry her around in her little bag. She gets plenty of exercise and affection and quality food and Mav also has someone to keep him company when he makes breakfast in the morning or someone to keep Ice's cold feet away from his calves at night. The twins like to buy her little cute accessories and feed her healthy snacks and take her out to the dog park. It's a win-win in Mav's head.

Kat is great and if her presence makes the twins want to visit more often - that's just another bonus.

[evstostuff]

This is nasty as hell but imagine Pierre teasing shy driver!reader all the time, and the entire grid being on a TV show, Pierre and reader having sex like 5 minutes before airing, realising she's nasty af, her being plugged up and him watching her squirm throughout the entire show knowing that no one's suspects a thing.

IM SORRY HDKFLSK HIS LATEST POST IN HIS SUIT GOT ME FEELING SOME TYPE OF WAY

Corrupt

Paring: Female Reserve Driver Reader x Pierre Gasly

Warning: 18+, language, sex toys ish, clit stimulation, female receiving, no sex, dirty talk, French pet name.

Word count: 1,368

Note: So this request has taken me forever I am so sorry!!! I hope you like it. I have switched it up a bit but its along the lines of you request.

“Pierre…”

“Oui mon cherie” 

“What are these?” The silver balls chimed together as you let go to dangle them in front of Pierre’s face.

His sky blue eyes widened in embarrassment.

Pierre tried to grab them as you hid them behind your back. 

“Pierre come on tell me.” You whined, dodging the drivers grabby hands.

“Y/N no it’s nothing.” His cheeks were stained with a pink flush of embarrassment.

Raising your eyebrows you chuckled.

“Fine.” Pierre rubbed his hands over his face.

“They are simulation beads, they are meant to go inside you. I wanted to suggest we use them eventually.”

You were completely engrossed in the idea of Pierre wanting to explore with you. 

Running the beads through your fingers you clenched your thighs together, the thoughts of something new enhancing the lust you already had for Pierre.

“I wanna try them.” You whispered.

Pierre watched every part of you, completely fascinated with your existence. Your relationship was very casual, a needs must basis. From his first day at Alpine meeting you as their reserve driver, he always thought you were a beautiful person but something about the innocence you radiated whilst holding such a corrupt item made Pierre want to completely destroy you. 

He wanted to watch you squirm and whimper his name.

“Fuck it.” Before you knew it the Frenchman had you pinned against the dressing room wall with his lips moulded to yours.

His fingers twisted with yours, taking the beads out of your hands.

Your body sensitive to Pierre’s touch, reacted to every brief brush from his fingertips. 

A slight nip of your bottom lip had your hips bucking into Pierre’s strong figure, begging for some relief from the pent up lust coursing through your veins.

Pierre’s hand slipped down to your ass, squeezing your cheeks roughly causing you to moan into his mouth.

“Jump Y/N.” 

You jumped with the help of Pierre’s grip on you ass and wrapped your legs round his waist. Lips still locked together,  you laced your fingers through his hair and tugged at the ends, causing delicious grunts and moans to echo from the back of Pierre’s throat. 

Pierre wondered over to the dressing table and gently placed you down. His fingers ghosting over your thighs as he slowly kissed across your jawline and down to the most sensitive spot on your neck.

“Please do something Pierre.” You moaned.

His fingers ran over your core, the slight pressure sending pleasure throughout your body.

You pushed your hips forward hinting to Pierre you wanted more.

“Oh desperate for my fingers again like the little slut you are?”

All you could do was moan at Pierre’s degrading words.

“Answer me Y/N.” Pierre’s hand wandered around your neck and gripped tightly forcing you to hold the Frenchman’s eye contact.

“I need your fingers again Pierre, please. I need you.” You begged.

A deep growl came from Pierre, clearly turned on from how needy you were for him.

Without hesitation, Pierre dipped his two fingers into your panties and circled them around your clit. 

Pleasure coursed through your body. Pierre watched as you tilted your head back in pure ecstasy as he continued to play games with you. The pace he was swirling his fingers over your clit had you almost screaming, constantly changing from slow with more pressure to quick attacks building your orgasm up left you a complete mess.

“You going to be a good girl and cum for me?” Pierre whispered in your ear.

Your pussy clenched for him as you nodded you head franticly. 

“Cum for me mon cherie.”

On command you lost every last ounce of control you had. Your body jolted as the pleasure Pierre had given you took over your whole being. 

“Good girl” Pierre cooed as he placed his hand over your moan silencing the moans of his name.

He held you as you came down from your orgasm high.

“Fuck Y/N you came hard.” Pierre groaned.

Both of you looked down at the mess you had left on the dressing table, you arousal had soaked your panties and had leaked onto the surface leaving it glistening.

The pair of you fell into a comfortable silence as you caught your breathe and composed yourself.

“Y/N do you trust me to try something?” Pierre asked whilst fiddling with the simulation beads that were left on the side.

You gulped “Yes I trust you.”

“I want you to have these inside of you whilst we do this interview.” Pierre ran the beads over your bare thighs, making you shiver.

Pierre continued to tease you with the beads. He ran them over your clothed cunt.

“Take your panties off Y/N.” Pierre demanded.

You lifted your hips and slipped the drenched cotton down your things from them to drop down the rest of your legs to the floor.

“Good girl, now move forward and spread your legs.” Pierre’s eyes flicked down to your dripping cunt.

You did as you were told, moaning as the cold air hit your core.

The beads were dragged up your thigh and between your legs. The cold metal balls ran gently through your folds, gathering all of your arousal. Your hips bucked at the strange sensation.

“Need them nice and wet.” Pierre groaned as he held the balls up to the light.

“Hmm think they need to be wetter.” The Frenchman gathered his own spit and spat it out onto the balls in his hand.

“Wetter I think, come on mon cherie spit.” Pierre moved his hand just under your chin and gave you a little nod.

You let your spit coat the balls in his hand.

“Perfect.” You watched Pierre mix all the liquids together, lubricating the balls to make sure they were ready to go inside you.

Pierre knelt down, eye level with your cunt.

“Just relax Y/N, this will make you feel so good.” Pierre cooed as he licked up your inner thigh.

Shivers ran down your spine as you felt the cold metal near your entrance. Pierre slowly inserted the toy giving you time to adjust.

“Fuck, your pussy is taking it so well.” Pierre praise made your pussy clench.

A pornagraphic moan fell from your lips at the new sensation of the beads being fully inside you.

“I’ll be keeping those.” Pierre giggled as he picked your panties up from the floor and shoved them in the back pocket of his jeans.

You didn’t even have it in you to protest as you were dazed in a cloud of continuous pleasure as every movement resulted in a new wave of pleasure running through you.

“Five minutes till we are live Pierre.” Someone knocked on the dressing room door.

“Oui, I’ll be out in a second.”

Pierre helped you off the dressing table, resting his hands on your hips as he steadied you on your feet. He grabbed you Alpine team top and denim skirt from the floor.

You quickly popped your clothes on with small gasps of pleasure as every movement caused you to clench round the foreign object inside of you causing Pierre to smirk at you.

Both you and Pierre met Esteban at the side of the stage. 

“Hey Y/N, you excited for this interview?” Esteban wrapped his arm round your shoulder and pulled you into him.

You locked eyes with Pierre’s as they darkened with jealousy. The look he gave you was fair from a typical look of jealous, it was a promise of what he was going to do to you later for being so comfortable with Esteban touching you.

You squeezed your thighs together and a moan erupted from you. Quickly you tried to cover it with a cough.

“You okay Y/N?” Esteban patted your back to help with your fake cough.

You gave him a weak smile and nodded.

“Please welcome to the stage Esteban Ocon, Pierre Gasly and Y/N Y/L/N from the BWT Alpine Formula One Team.” The crow erupted with cheers.

Pierre grabbed your wrist just before you walked out “You are not going to be able to walk tomorrow after I am done with you mon cherie.”

[marilynthornhilllover]

Hi, Can I have a request on "strict mommy!Morticia addams" x reader?

Darling can I be your favorite?

mommy!Mortica Addams x fem! reader

Warning: smut , indecent language , reader being a brat , punishment , dress code restrictions , spanking , vampire kissing method , slight drawl of blood , praise kink , degradation kink , choking kink , spitting kink , pet names in French , slight hair pulling , finger teasing , fingering , orgasm denial , mommy kink, slight tiny after care.

You and mortica's relationship was very photogenic - meaning that no matter what aspect you looked at it from, you will always find something absolutely breathtaking. You and mortica were completely inseparable, your love for each other was as strong as European poison.

You and mortica had been married for two years, today marking your 3rd year anniversary together. Mortica had already planned something of her style for you. Today was your day and she's gonna make sure that you enjoy it to the best of your ability.

She first insured that Wednesday went to a teens camp far away where she wouldn't be able to ruin anything, and that pugsley went to golf practice with his father.

The morning started off great with soft neck kisses, breakfast in bed, and a warm bubbly bath.

You were preparing yourself in your shared bedroom as mortica also prepared herself in the bathroom. You had picked a skin tight maroon dress with an open back and slit sides to wear to dinner but you hadn't confirmed it with mortica - matter of fact you haven't even told her you bought it and had planned to wear jt.

When you were both newlyweds she'd never allow you to wear inappropriate clothing out of the house or atleast when she's not around. But that was a long time ago, maybe she'd allow it since it was after s special occasion and plus she's gonna be right there by your side.

You pulled your dress, pulling it down your legs alittle as you tried fixing the slits at the side. you hadn't even noticed that the raven haired goddess was staring at your body through the mirror. You felt her gaze burning through you, averting your eyes to hers she emerged from the shadows, her heels clicking with every step that she took.

You smiled at her, which she returned but it was a far cry from what she was thinking. Maybe seeing you in a dress like this for the first time without warning did something to her. Her hands gently snaked their way around your hips towards your abdomen giving it a slight squeeze pulling your body towards hers.

She let out a sigh while maintaining eye contact in the mirror.

" this dress is a bit short no?" You chuckled before turning in her arms. Her freshly washed hair engraved with rosemary and lavender from her shampoo plus her perfume were both intoxicating, and the way she looking at you made you want to lose you sanity.

" Yes but I can wear a stocking under it" you replied only this time she chuckled. Her eyes were always dark and showed no emotion but something about you wearing this dress in public set them ablaze as something more than lust and desire swirled around in them.

" your not wearing this dress y/n" it's not that mortica was the jealous type but she was very protective when it comes to property that's hers. It's not something that you hated, just something you tried to avoid. Too be honest there was nothing totally wrong with the dress, no excessive cleavage was being shown just your back and half of your thighs were exposed to human eye.

But for mortica that was way too much skin. Not that she didn't want you to dress up, for some things are for only her to see.

" Oh come on mortica, please, I mean tonight is our night" you spoke in a voice that usually gets under her skin, hoping that this time it would But tonight mortica was standing on business. But so were you.

" y/n I said no, now go change into something else, maybe the dress I bought you for your birthday last year" she quirked her eyebrows when you rolled your eyes but chosed to ignored it, she had no time for foolishness or else she'd have to pay a fee for being late to the reservation.

She released her arms from your body before proceeding to walk back towards the bathroom.

" I'm not changing anything, im wearing my dress as it is" you muttered under your breath fixing your hair. You didn't expect mortica to hear what you said, you barley spoke, it was as if you whispered but of course she heard. She's mortica Addams.

Mortica stopped in her tracks before slowly turning around to face you. She felt her lips curve into a sly smirk before her feet took her back to where you were standing. Swiftly she grabbed a fist full of your hair and tugged on it, you whined as your back arched onto her.

" that you hated them" you whispered noticing how much power she held in her eyes.

" what did I say about brats darling" her voice was smooth and sultry as her hot breath tickled your neck. Her grip only got tighter every second that you waited to answer. You groaned before making eye contact with her in the mirror as your hand held the one that she had in your hair.

" and what else?" She asked pulling harshly on your hair again demanding an answer. You squirmed as you could already feel how damp your panties were becoming.

" f-fuck but you love punishing them, tish please" mortica laughed as she released your hair, shoving you up against the wall, her thigh pressing against your clothed center.

" begging already ma chérie?" She asked in a deep husk voice, Feeling as her knee shifted against your clit while her hand found it's place around your neck squeezing gently. You bit your bottom lip staring into her eyes. She chuckled darkly before her lips connected with yours in a deep and meaningful kiss.

The kiss was Passionate at first causing mortica to take a further step by biting your bottom lip causing you to moan into her mouth giving her the perfect entry to slip her tongue into your mouth. You were already breathless for this woman, completely on your knees and at her mercy, ready to obey and work like a slave just to impress her.

She deepened the kiss, her tongue flicking against yours in a war like manner, it was clear that she was the dominant one, the mommy.

She pulled away from the kiss dragging your bottom lip along with her, causing you to let out a needy whine but it was already obvious that you won't be getting what you truly desired from her, after all this was a punishment. Hearing your Ridiculous cries for pleasure must have set of something in her, because it just added fuel to the fire.

She pulled on your lip a little more drawling blood, you winced pulling away from her completely as you gently bit down on the opening to seize the bleeding. Mortica smiled before sighing. She turned around and walked away from you before proceeding to sit down on the edge of the bed.

She clasped her legs at the ankle and sat elegantly, her perfectly toned legs and pretty face always did a number on you. And God you loved everything about her.

" crawl to me darling" she whispered her voice laced with pure lust. You breathed a slow chilling breath shuttering at the way her eyes ran over your body. The way her eyes gazed upon your body made your knees weak. Now you knew why gomez couldn't handle all of this. She was too much to handle in the bedroom.

" did I stutter? Or are you choosing to disobey me even more?" Her tone of voice was very Authoritative and her eye contact burning through you wasn't helping. She shook your head, a silent ' no ' before you slowly got down on your knees. you began to crawl towards her, still maintaining the soul snatching eye contact.

Her dark eyeliner and eye shadow, allowed her siren eyes to appear more vividly providing her with the most perfect, what people say " hawk eyes".

Arriving at her feet, completely at her mercy you looked away, who dared you?.

She grabbed your jaw and held your chin in her grasp firmly, not giving you the chance to look away.

" you were always such a good girl for mommy.... what happened?" You knew it was a rhetorical question, so you didn't answer but something in you told you that you should have. Her grip on your jaw tighten before she leaned in towards your face.

" when i tell you to do something you fucking do it, am I understood?" God.... the way she holding you, looking at you, speaking to you was enough to take you out. Her tone was very Orotund. You swallowed heavily, you could hear yourself breathing hard.

" Yes mommy" you replied and she smirked. But you should have know that something else was coming behind that smirk.

" good girl" she whispered beside your ear as she hesitated to nibble on it. You heard her chuckle darkly before she released a long frustrated sigh. You thought nothing of it until you felt a strong grip in your hair pulling your head back a little forcing you to look up at her.

" now your gonna bend over mommy's lap and allow her to punish you right baby girl?" You nodded and she smiled, running her tumb along your lips in a soothing manner, you opened your mouth and took her fingers in. Mortica gasped but only returned you a dirty look. She pressed her tumb flat against your tongue, a silent request to leave your mouth open.

She pursed her lips and spat in your mouth, slowly watching as her Saliva dripped into your mouth and drizzled on your tongue as if it was honey. Smirking she spoke up again.

" swallow" again you obeyed before getting up and bending over her lap. You felt as her warm hands caressed your inner thighs before pushing your dress up your ass. She massaged your butt cheeks for a while, preparing you for what was too come.

Suddenly a loud spank came down on your left ass cheek. You cried out as you clung onto the duvet.

" count for me ok?" You nodded. She spanked you again, your eyes rolled have as you tried to ignore that pain as best as possible. You could hear her deep voice above you, smoothing and comforting.

" 1 " you spoke, voice already becoming hoarse.

" such a good girl for mommy" she replied before her hand came down again with another blow, gentle rubbing the area for you.

" f- fuck 2," you spoke, but she went even rougher now. She moved towards the other cheek and spanked it, hand snaking its way between your thighs and upwards towards your core, finger tips gently brushing against your clit.

" fucking slut, disobeying mommy's commands, I had something so special planned for us and now we're going to be late hmh?" Another spank was giving. At this point your eyes were slightly puffy as tears started flowing from them. And Mortica was already proud of her work.

She slowly pushed two fingers into your cunt before swiftly removing them, your hips pushed back in attempt to chase her fingers but another blow came down on your ass.

" I said to count bitch" she spat harshly causing you to choke on your own cries obeying her order and continuing to count every time a smack was given.

" you want mommy to fuck you huh? Such a whore that you wanted to wear this dress for mommy at dinner?" She thrusted three fingers into your pussy, curling them as her finger pads gently brushed against your g-spot causing you release a pornographic moan in which your eyes rolled back.

At this point you had already lost track of what number of slaps she'd given you. The effect mortica had on you was dangerous, she was like a human drug. One had you'd die for, one that you craved daily, one that you just simply couldn't resist, one had you absolutely needed to survive.

Mortica thrusted her fingers into you slowly, going as deep as her knuckles allowed her, your greedy cunt already begging them to stay as you clenched down on them. She could already feel your orgasm coming, ridiculously fast.

She removed her fingers and chuckled before spanking you one last time before holding you by your waist and sitting you upwards on her as you straddled her hips.

She leaned towards your ear and whispered.

You were hot, needy and sweaty. Not to mention sexual frustrated and absolutely left deranged. Mortica smirked before kissing your forehead as she slowly trailed her finger nails down your abdomen making you shiver.

" put on something better, we leave in 5 minutes and when we get home I'm gonna fuck your brains out til I remind who you belong too" she pushed you off her, leaving a ghost peck on your lips before existing the bedroom.

You laid down on the bed for a couple more minutes catching your breath, you couldn't wait til later tonight, because maybe just maybe, when she said she'll be fucking you brains out.... it just might be the other way around, but either way, there's enough big straps available in your sex basket..... waiting patiently to be used.....

[somanyratsinthewalls]

Burning Hearts Chapter 10

Pairing: Law x Straw Hat Zoan Type (named) OC 

Summary: *WE ARE STILL SLOWLY BURNING* You were teleported across the globe in an instant, away from your crew. Your body was badly broken and beaten, thrust into the harsh landscape of a Northern island. You are discovered by the Heart Pirates and brought back to health. Startled upon waking up in a foreign place with an unfamiliar crew, you are shocked with the news that you’ll be spending two years there. Trafalgar Law, the captain of the Heart Pirates has made a promise to train you, but will it become something more than a mentor relationship?

WC: 2600

Taglist: @cottoncandyloverrrr @zoros-fourth-sword @nothing-but-brass

Burning Hearts Chapter 10: She’s a Lady

— — 

After a night of fitful sleep, you woke up to your alarm mildly hungover with a dull headache. You groan as you slam the alarm off and sit up in bed. You sit there with the blankets bunched around your legs and your mind returns to last night. That fervent kiss in the hallway outside your room. Law had apologized and ran away, leaving you confused and alone. 

You had to say something. There was no way you’d let another year and change go by ignoring what had happened between the two of you… the tension would absolutely eat you alive. 

You’d have to see him today, regardless of how awkward the encounter may be. He promised he would let you accompany him on the supply run, and you’d be damned if he went back on his word because of some drunken slip up. You needed to get off this damn island if it killed you, you were totally going stir crazy. You were already talking to polar bears, it’s only a matter of time before you start talking to the walls. 

You hop out of bed and throw on one of your red jumpsuits. You sit on the floor in front of the mirror in your bedroom and plait your hair into two long French braids, accessorizing them with a few yellow summer flowers. Once you were finished, you throw on your boots and head out the door. 

You maneuvered your way through the base and exited the front door, eyeing the Polar Tang docked in the distance. You approached the big yellow submarine and admired its impressive craftsmanship. You had never been on the Heart Pirate’s ship before, Law never allowed you to come with him when he headed out until now. 

Upon reaching the ship,  you see the gangplank is already up. You must be the last to arrive, so with a quick flutter of your wings you dropped onto the deck and entered the steel door. The ship was much like the base, cool metal from floor to ceiling. The hallway was lined with doors, assumedly bunk rooms or storage. There was a wide door at the end of the hall, different from the others. This must be the main cabin. You stride towards the door and push it open. 

The room inside was lined with monitors and odd machines with knobs and buttons, nothing you’d have any idea what to do with. The main wall of the ship was a large window so that who ever was navigating could see forward. Law was facing away from you and manning the helm of the ship and Bepo was fussing with some of the ship’s instruments. 

“Oh hi Miss Daisy! Now that you’re here we can head out. Are you ready?” Bepo smiles and waves a large paw at you. 

“Yes, I’m ready.” You smile a bit. “Bepo, could you excuse us for a few minutes? I need to talk to your captain.” 

Bepo hesitates and looks at the back of Law’s head. 

“W-well we really should…” Bepo stutters, unsure of what to do. 

“It’s fine, Bepo. Give us the room.” Law speaks without turning around. 

“Yes, Captain. As you wish.” 

Bepo exits the control room and shuts the door behind him. 

Law still doesn’t turn to face you, hands on the wheel of the ship, gripping it tightly. There was a long silence. 

“So we just aren’t going to talk about last-“ You start. 

“No.” 

Another pause. Law continues. 

“I apologized. I don’t know what else you want to hear.” He states coldly. 

You scoff. 

“So that’s it? You kiss me and want me to pretend it never happened-?” You start to raise your voice. 

“That’s EXACTLY what is going to happen!” Law yells and whips his body around to face you finally. “It was unprofessional. It was an accident. I was not myself in that moment. I’d very much like to move on.” 

“You’re lying! I know you’re lying!” You step towards him. 

“Yeah? Lying about what?” Law was getting incredibly frustrated and red faced. 

“The kiss! I don’t think that was an accident, Law.” You point at him accusingly while you spit venom at him. 

“And how would you know?” He seethes. 

You ball your fists. 

“I’ve been kissed by a lot of assholes who didn’t mean it, who didn’t care at all, and that’s not what that was. That was something and you’re hiding from me. You’re my mentor and we’re supposed to be honest with each other.”

There was another silence and Law stared at the floor before speaking. 

“You’re mistaken. I’m done talking about this.” Law turns back towards the helm of the ship and away from your glare. 

“You know what? Fine. Be like that, then. Keep everything all bottled up, all packed away so that no one can ever see who you really are. You think closing yourself off will keep anyone from ever getting hurt again but you’re wrong. You’re hurting yourself by being like this. You can’t protect your friends if you can’t even be honest with yourself.” 

You see Law grip the wheel even tighter. He doesn’t respond. 

“If you come to your senses, Trafalgar Law, I’ll have you know that although I may be a pirate, I am first and foremost a lady.” 

“What are you talking about?” Law turns his head and furrows his brow. 

“I am a lady and I should be properly courted like one. I will accept nothing less.” You square your shoulders and take a deep breath. “I’ll see you when we arrive at the island, then.” You turn and leave a stunned Law alone in the main cabin. You run into Bepo waiting patiently in the hallway.

“You guys finished in there? Is everything okay, I heard yelling-“ Bepo asked. 

“All set. Let’s shove off.” You brush past the bear and find someplace to sit and relax for the trip. 

— — 

It was a quick voyage under the sea before Law docks the ship at a port on some sleepy little inhabited island. You and the rest of the crew clamber out of the sub and walk down the wooden docks with Law at the head of your party. Once clearing the docks, bustling with fishermen and ship repairmen trying to make a sale, you all follow Law towards the village.

The appearance of the Heart Pirates only garnered a few whispers from the locals as you all made your way into town. It seemed as though this was a town that was accustomed to the presence of the powerful pirate (now warlord) and his crew. 

“You guys come here often?” You say softly to Penguin as you stroll through the cobblestone streets. 

“Yeah kinda, it’s busy enough to have what we need but quiet enough to not make a fuss. Not like we have to worry anymore anyway… well everyone except you, haha!” Penguin laughs.

“Sooooo funny… real funny guy you are… I’ll take my 60 million berries and shove them right up your ass.” You quip as you dig your thumb between his shoulders. 

“Owww! Captain!”

“Will you guys stop making a scene? I said low profile.” 

You stick your tongue out at Penguin. 

You pass by a toy store with children and their parents running in and out of the door. The shop had baskets of plushies outside to draw in prospective buyers. You smile at a group of kids and look down into one of the baskets. 

“Oh my goodness!” You reach down and grab one of the stuffed animals from the bin. It was a fluffy, chubby little reindeer plush. You hold it up in front of your face and smile. 

“It looks like my friend!” You grin and shout towards the group who was already passing you up. 

“You should get it, it’s very cute!” Bepo smiles at you. 

Your grin fades. 

“No… I shouldn’t spend my money on silly things like that anymore…” You gingerly set the plush down and pat it on the head before jogging to catch up to the party. 

You walk a little further up the road.

“Oooh can we stop at that one place and get the beef noodles? Those are my favorite!” Shachi chimes in. 

“We’re here to get supplies, not take a vacation.” The Captain replies. 

Law was met with groans from all 3 of his crew members as they followed him to the shopping district. 

A few more silent moments go by before a savory, rich scent filled your nose. It wrapped around you like a warm hug and stopped you in your tracks. You turn to your right and peer into the restaurants windows. You press your face and hands up to the glass and look at the tables full of happy patrons, tables littered with delicious looking food. 

“Woah those noodles do look good…” You say more to yourself than anyone else. 

“See, Cap! Pleeeease! We’re starving, we didn’t have breakfast because Daisy was hungover!”

“What, if I don’t feed you, you’ll starve?” You snap your head in Shachi’s direction. 

“I’m not allowed to use the stove anymore, you know that!” Shachi shoots back. 

“FINE. Go sit down. I’ll get most of the supplies now and run them back to the ship. You guys can pick up the food from the market on your way back. I’ll be waiting.” 

“Yay!” Shachi cries out as he rushes you, Bepo, and Penguin into the restaurant to get a table. 

— — 

The four of you slurp down your bowls of noodles greedily and order more drinks to wash them down with. 

“Soooooo how was last night?” You ask with beef stuffed into your cheeks as you nod to Penguin. 

*cough cough* “What do you mean?” Penguin chokes on a noodle briefly. 

“Last night… like when you walked our friend back to her room? Ringing any bells?” You raised an eyebrow. 

“Nothing happened, I went to bed like 30 minutes later and he was already in bed passed out! Clothes on! Alone!” Shachi chimes in.

“You don’t know that!” 

“Unless there was an OTPHJ situation, I’m pretty sure you struck out again bud.” Shachi shoves another pile of noodles into his maw. 

“OTPHJ?” Bepo raises an eyebrow.

“Over-the-pants-hand-job.” You wipe your mouth with a napkin and clarify. 

“Oh… gross…” Bepo hangs his head. 

“Yeah, it is gross.” You grimace. “Don’t listen to him, Peng. Slow and steady wins the race, and I think you’re winning her over. Don’t rush it. You can steal flowers from my garden any time.” You wink as you take a huge gulp of beer. You look at your watch. “Shit we gotta go or Captain Buzzkill is going to hang us all.” Bepo nods and places a stack of cash from his orange jumpsuit pocket on the table. 

— — 

“Of course he sticks us with the heaviest shit… knowing damn well he could probably room-shambles-whatever all of this back to the ship anyway…” You huff out as you readjust the massive bag of food supplies you had slung over your back. 

“Here, let me help, tiny human.” Bepo swings the bag from your back over his shoulder easily. 

“Thanks, Bepo.” You smile and rub your neck. 

“Please forgive me if I’m intruding, Miss Daisy… but what exactly happened between you and my captain earlier? He seemed distressed during the entire journey…” The large bear looks down at you as you walk. You turn your head and see that Penguin and Shachi were falling far behind, bickering about something. 

“I um… I tried to talk to him about something and it… it didn’t really go that well… as I’m sure you heard?” You phrase the last part as a question, trying to feel out exactly how much of the argument Bepo had heard from the other side of the door. 

“I assure you I wasn’t eavesdropping, Miss Daisy… I just heard you both yelling and he was just so… distraught… afterwards, I couldn’t help but worry.” 

“I’m sorry I caused you to worry.” You look down and continue walking towards the ship. 

“I worry about him a lot, you know.” Bepo continues. “He can be… prickly… but he’s a good man. He can act brash when he’s feeling conflicted, and I can certainly tell you bring out that feeling in him.” 

“You’re the second person to tell me that. Am I supposed to be getting a hint here? Everyone keeps talking to me in circles.” You furrow your brow in annoyance. 

“He’s my best friend, Miss Daisy. Give him time. Slow and steady wins the race, remember?” Bepo smiles. 

“Okay but it’s not like that… you know that right?” You cock your head. 

“Right.” 

— — 

It was late in the evening when your party returned to the safe house. The 5 of you hauled the bags filled to the brim with supplies into the galley and started unloading the perishables into the fridge and freezers. 

“I have work to do. I’ll see you in the morning.” Law slinks out of the kitchen and down the hall to his office. 

“Does he ever sleep?” You roll your eyes. 

“Nope.” The three boys said in unison. 

“Well, he might not, but I’m sure as hell going to. I’m wiped.” You finish putting bags of rice into the pantry. 

“Need to get your sea legs back, huh D?” Shachi chides. 

“Whatever, goodnight nerds.” You playfully flip them off and head to your room. With each step your legs felt heavier and heavier… the pure exhaustion settling into your bones. You push into your door with your whole body and flop your bag down onto the floor. 

You begin to unzip your jumpsuit when you notice something on your bed that wasn’t there when you left. 

Laid neatly up against the pillows and tucked cutely under the blankets of your now made bed was that fuzzy reindeer plushie you had seen earlier in town. 

“Now what the hell…” You rush over to your bed and scoop the stuffed animal up in your arms. It was a little smaller than your friend, Chopper, but it reminded you of his cuteness nonetheless. How did this get here? You clearly remember setting it back down in the bin and going to eat at the restaurant. Bepo was the one who encouraged you to buy it, but you had been with him the entire time while you were on the island…

Someone must have gone back, bought it, and placed it in your bed before you could reach your bedroom…

You look into the plush’s black glossy eyes and smile. You strip off your jumpsuit and crawl into bed, cuddling the stuffed reindeer in your arms as you fall asleep. 

——

xx 

*Author's Note* Tumblr got rid of yellow as a text color? Or am I dumb? Did I ever have yellow? Am I losing my mind?

Also thanks for waiting a week :) I've been mad busy. Should have Chapter 11 out this weekend! Love yall.

[sillyyuserr]

terukane analysis, and/or just random stuff, i have too many prompts in drafts but they’re too small to be their own analysies so they’re here pt. 2 💫

I already made one of these a bit ago, so if theres anything not here it’s either in that other one, or i just haven’t covered it (yet)

Item A: “I like Akane-san”

When teru says this, it comes out differently in every language. And seemingly equally ambiguous which i find interesting

for example, in the french translation of this line, teru says "I love you more than you might think akane" rather than saying “i like akane-san” and i mean having a mistranslation here is obviously something, but what he actually says is just what?

“i love you more than you might think akane” EXCUSE ME??

also not to mention “san” is gender neutral. He very well could be calling akane by his first name and them (akane & nene) misunderstanding what he said. Although he does refer to aoi as “akane-san”, the translators wouldve translated it to “aoi” instead of “akane” if he was referring to her (or not, im not completely sure on how they do the translation 😭)

Item B: queer association

(Edit: Im fucking dumb and forgot to add the panel of that one dude yelling “no i want to be his boyfriend!” But i can’t find it for the life of me so pretend its here)

not only is this one of the only canon queer characters in tbhk, (my guy only got one panel 💔) but also this associates “queerness” or wtv that means with teru

along with akane mentioning both genders being attracted to teru. Again, associating queerness with him. And you may be wondering, why is this important? well, notice how out of all of the main and/or reoccurring characters, he is one of the ONLY characters to be associated with queerness. (The only others being kou; his friends teasing him about wanting to “undress mitsuba” and akane; the whole yamabuki thing) for example, take note of how scarily popular aoi is because of her beauty, shes like a literal god, everyone loves this girl, but notice how never once has a girl ever confessed to her? actively not associating her with queerness, unlike teru.

and notice how the other characters that are associated with queerness are kou, who (its pretty much been canonized atp) has romantic feelings for his male friend mitsuba, and AKANE. The guy i swear he has a crush on like cmon now AidaIro can you be more obvious

Item C: reoccurring patterns

in tbhk, all of the confirmed/obviously implied romantic relationships between the main characters have been supernatural x human, hanako and nene, mitsuba and kou, akane and aoi, excluding only teru and aoi. But this does not exclude teru and akane, almost showing us that in the love triangle between teru, akane and aoi, it may not be revolving around which one gets with aoi, but which one gets with akane. It seems as though teru x aoi was never an option from the start.

Although teru has said he likes aoi, his actions say otherwise. for example teruaoi’s conversation in the convenience store was obviously extremely awkward, the only non-awkward part being when he helped her out of that creepy interaction with the clerk.

And the face he made when akane asked/assumed he had a crush on aoi

(Which he never definitively answered)

The point of this section was because of these reoccurring patterns we can conclude akane is the main love interest, not aoi.

Item D: their relationship

Something teru likes about akane, is how no matter what he doesn’t seem to ever give up. Which yes in some aspects this can be a bad thing, coff coff

But most times, you can kind of tell this is a big reason he likes akane, almost like a “he pushes him down, he gets back up” kind of thing, its a big part of their dynamic. If akane wasn’t like this, their dynamic would change a lot. He likes this because as stated in the spinoff, he kind of uses akane as a “stress toy” (which has obviously changed, as their relationship did when the series progresses) but he likes this because at the end of the day, akane will come back. No matter how many times he ties akane up, he returns to the student council room. No matter how many times teru pushes akane down (in this example, literally) he gets back up.

Something i like about terukane, is their relationship. The trust and motivation they give one another. For example, its shown early on Teru has disassociates himself from other people. Teru views the living as “delicate” and kind of makes it his job to protect them from supernaturals (when i say he made it his job i mean his dad did). He was raised to have a very different view towards the living vs supernaturals. Rounding this back to Terukane, teru doesn't view akane as “fragile” like other people, and I think that's something to take note of. The reason he thinks like this could definitely tie into the fact that he’s half supernatural but also he views akane in a higher regard then most people. Akane keeps up with him, teru actually acknowledges this, saying he values his intelligence and enjoys talking to him. 

Its kind of been shown teru has had a hard time making friends ever since grade-school, i mean yeah he talks to people, but the only people he’s lowered his guard around has been tiara and kou (siblings), and akane. A literal supernatural (the kind of person this guy is supposed to exterminate??) Literally what makes akane so special? This guy is the most popular person in THE school, second to none, and the only person besides his family that he can let his guard around is akane? They both work in the student council, president and vice president meaning they work in extremely close quarters, everyday, giving them lots of time to talk, so its no doubt they became close, but out of everyone, teru choosing akane to put his trust in is just odd to me idk man

Item E: bringing up each other alot

in many instances, teru and akane bring eachother up when they aren’t even involved in the current situation, or unintentionally show us they think about eachother more than we think they do, a few examples:

Teru talking ab akane to his family. Call me insane but i have alot to say ab this one. This one really gets me because that would mean throughout his entire way home from school, including if he fought off supernaturals on his way back (which he seems to do pretty much everyday), from the last time he saw akane, he had to have been thinking about him the entire time. Since they are in the student council they stay together for most of the day when its not their extra/curricular classes or lunch, meaning they probably stayed together until about an hour after school ended, and according to google

School ends around 3:50 to 4pm and their after school activities last until around 6pm. In one chapter i forget which one, kou complains about his brother not being home much and whenever he is home he’s usually sleeping or too sleepy to answer him properly, (and in art of their ‘home life’ teru is always either sleeping or sleepy) because of his constant fighting with supernaturals well into the evening. Now lets assume at this point teru has left the school building, and about a few (5) minutes down the sidewalk and he runs into supernaturals, fights them off yadayadayada, at this point it’s presumably now 6:30-6:40, now lets also assume they live about a few (5) blocks away from the school, one block presumably taking 5 minutes each, times the 5 blocks they live away, taking approximately 25 minutes to half an hour to walk, plus the additional time he took to exorcise the supernaturals on his way home, which by this point we can probably assume its 7-7:20 now which is around an hour after families/people usually make dinner, we can assume he gets home at the 7-7:20 mark, sits down with tiara and kou to have dinner when this panel was shown

Meaning for an esitmated two and half, to three consecutive hours, akane was on teru’s mind. Thats a pretty long time to be thinking ab someone teru. I know what you are

Item F: extras

the “Aoi is coming too.” Bro brings him up at any given opportunity

akane having a literal DREAM about him.

Like I havent had dreams with life long friends in them so to have a dream about this boy you “hate” is.. hmmm

Innermost subconscious feelings you say? okay okay so not queer at all yk so buddy so bro of them

Item G: the original plot

tbhk was originally going to be a oneshot manga featuring the love triangle between akane, lemon and aoi but later was cancelled, and in the official manga, they made lemon and akane “fall in love”

obviously as a joke but that shows AidaIro is not oblivious to the idea/premise of the two boys instead falling in love with eachother, rather than the girl, so the idea (i talked more ab in a past analysis) of teru&akane getting together rather than teru&aoi or akane&aoi getting together is ON THE TABLE

would add more but i fear this will take me too long💔 new chapter next week yall prepare urselfs

[jewishvitya]

CW - talking about antisemitic depictions and about the house elves and the depiction of slavery in the books.

I'm having a frustrating day with a lot of physical pain, so I'm not the best at judging currently if I should be posting all of these thoughts. It's a response to multiple arguments by rude anons that I blocked (not for being rude, for being transphobic), but the arguments themselves stay on my mind and I just. Need this out. Ignore this, it will be all over the place, I'm basically venting. Hoping it'll be the last bit of HP criticism I post.

I'll tag it for you to block, as usual.

I've been asked what I expect of Rowling, since my criticism of the goblins included the books. She already wrote the books, they're printed and they're out there. She can't just change them, criticism does nothing because she has no path to correct her mistake.

First of all, with her transphobia - as far as I'm concerned she has blood on her hands at this point. The way she emboldens transphobia endangers lives and erodes queer rights. Anyone who contributes to the current push against trans people is complicit in trans genocide - and she made herself a symbol of that movement. Even if she did a 180 on her issues with Jewish stereotypes, she wouldn't redeem herself.

But she isn't the only one who wrote a story and then realized that her story has deep issues. What does it look like, if an author doesn't want to perpetuate those?

From what I know of Tolkien (and I know nothing LOTR or anything, just heard this from other Jewish creators who discussed this issue, treat this paragraph like I'm repeating a rumor) - Tolkien did stumble on an antisemitic depiction while writing his dwarves. Then he course-corrected by creating a more complex and nuanced picture of the society in his future works. Basically, he leaned into the idea of his dwarves as a Jewish allegory and made it a better and more respectful allegory. They have wonderful cultural details, like having foreign-language names used outside of their community - and names in their own native language that they call each other. Half of my family comes from France, and my mom was born there. She had a Hebrew name and a legal French name. That's extremely common among Jews in some areas of the world.

This response is what I would have expected if an author cares about being respectful of Jewish people. Acknowledge the issue, and try to do better.

But what if the issue was brought to your attention after you completely finished your story? In that case: "Yes, I'm sorry, I didn't realize I was writing an antisemitic narrative with my depiction of this fantasy race." Support the voices criticizing your work, and apologize. Let it be an example of tropes to avoid, and encourage others to be careful of the same pitfalls.

What you don't do, is act horrified and say "Oh, how could you, I never intended to make the goblins an antisemitic allegory! Surely if I don't mean it, it can't be hurtful!"

Also, if you truly care, you don't then abuse the memory of the holocaust when you write spin-offs of your original story, including its imagery to support a bigoted villain's argument.

Marginalized people understand that not everyone knows what we do. The stereotypes and the harmful ideas that weaved themselves into popular culture are about us. We know that it's invisible to people who aren't the target, and as a result aren't forced to learn these things. To many people, it's just a trope they're used to seeing. Like villains have hooked noses - it's practically a shorthand for an evil character.

All the stories we tell are based in some measure on stories we heard. Narratives and tropes feed off each other between different pieces of media. It's easy to pull together a harmful narrative without realizing, when the tropes that make it up usually go together, and are so common they're everywhere. So we know a person who means no harm can create something really hurtful, without knowing it.

That's why we criticize media: we want you to see and be aware.

In addition to this, I've been accused multiple times of ignoring the fact that these books discuss bigotry and condemn it. I'm not ignoring it, I know they do - or they try to. But Rowling wrote a story against racism without understanding it and without interrogating it in herself. She only knew to condemn it when it's rude and violent and outright hateful. Not the foundations of it.

So, sure, say she didn't mean to write something harmful. What does she do when she learns she did? Nothing. And not just about the issue of the goblins - about everything. I detailed the problems with her depiction of lycanthropy, but she did the same thing with the house elves.

There's lore about creatures called brownies. They'll perform chores for you, but they'd rather not be seen while they do. If you try to pay them, they'll get offended. If you give them clothes, they'll leave. This is a very partial description, but you can see the inspiration here.

And then she turned them into a slave race. They're bound to their enslavers, possessing powerful magic but using it in their service, forced to punish themselves for disobedience and endure extreme abuse. Kreacher actively wishes to have his head put on display when he's too old and weak to be of use.

To show the reader the horrors of freedom for an elf, JKR turned poor Winky into a depressed drunk with no purpose in her life. Winky's story is horrifying.

Only Dobby takes care of Winky for that whole year. She never recovers during it. Then she's made to witness the interrogation of Barty Crouch Jr., which upsets her and causes her distress. As a result, she hears about Crouch's death through a toneless forced confession - and the interrogation continues around her. That same day, she watches the last member of the household she loved have his soul taken by a dementor, and then she's left alone with the body while Dumbledore argues with Fudge. Only after, he sends Madam Pomfrey to do what she can for Winky, and take her to the kitchens where Dobby will take care of her again.

And Rowling wrote all of this. Did she think this is an example that even compliant house elves suffer and get neglected, even by the sympathetic wizards? Was this a lesson that even those who don't seek freedom suffer and lack agency in this system?

No. Rowling turned it into a cautionary tale against freeing slaves. Unless they're "weird" like Dobby.

Maybe she didn't try to be racist, but this fits disturbingly well with the arguments against ending slavery in reality. That enslaved people will turn into aimless drunks. That they need to be enslaved to have purpose. That those who want freedom have something wrong with them.

And I know this was criticized. What was the response to the criticism? Nothing direct as far as I know, but after all of this - there was an article published on Pottermore to argue that Winky's story is a warning against freeing the elves. It was taken down fortunately, but after this article the arguments against freedom are no longer the opinion of characters within the world - it's a message given to us by real people.

She doubles down. Every time. People keep yelling that she had nothing to do with Hogwarts Legacy, she's not responsible for the way it builds on her original canon. Well, she seems to approve of it. It continues painting the same line with the same brush - just bolder.

She doesn't care about the racism, she doesn't care about antisemitism - she just wanted to use the nazis as her easy villains. She doesn't have the imagination for any other kind.

[lackadaisy-headcanon-supply-unit]

Do you do isekai (someone from our time warped into Lackadaisy world) scenarios? If so, could I have a scenario cider involving a human female (either turned into cat or not) with a dash of Rocky Rickaby? Not neccessary romantic, just a developing friendship between a perpetually anxious out of place gal dealing with Rocky's shenanigans. I think he'd be VERY fascinated and ask ALL sorts of questions about the future.

The restraint I had to use to not turn this into a oneshot. Hoooo boy. Mixing drinks is hard when you like an idea so much you want to do more with it. Anyway I’m giving you a clothing item to make life a little easier regarding how Rocky even knows you’re from the future so stay tuned for that

-

A cafe is a pretty nice place to end up in when your whole world turns upside down. Not enough that Y/N’s suddenly thrown into the body of an entire different species, she’s also jumped back about a hundred years or so. Her body may have changed–(H/C) fur, a tail, ears not where they’re supposed to be, new senses providing a nice little sensory Hell–and yet her clothes by some logic remained exactly the same. It was as if whatever god or deity that yanked her out of her present day life and launched her back in time couldn’t be bothered to change anything beyond her species.

But at least the food wasn’t much different. These human-cat creatures ate pretty much the same thing as plain old humans did and even spoke the same language, so ordering something wasn’t much of a challenge. Ignoring the weird looks the young waitress gave her from time to time, Y/N could idly chew on a french fry or two and watch her tail slowly slim down to a less puffy state out of the corner of her eye.

Until the bloody thing fluffed up again full-throttle at the cafe door being swung open and a boisterous silver tabby loudly greeting everyone in the cafe. The general response was best described as exhausted, but it gave Y/N the cat’s name: Rocky.

Getting Rocky’s attention was as simple as existing. He stared at Y/N for a long enough moment that she wished she had somehow sensed that she was going to go back in time and had worn something a little more period appropriate. When he approached her, she felt her ears flatten against her head and a weird sound started from somewhere in her throat, one that ended in a low “don’t you come near me” sound.

Huh. So that’s what hissing feels like.

Rocky backed off at the hiss, raising his hands in an “I’m innocent” gesture. “Take it easy, toots, I’m not about to hurt ya. Miss Pepper, who is this?”

The waitress looked over for a moment and told Rocky that she didn’t know. Y/N swallowed a threatened kitty growl and managed her name. Rocky took the seat near her, took off his hat and didn’t seem to notice when Y/N recoiled further at the nasty-looking scar going straight down his forehead. She was literally hanging off the edge of her seat at this point.

Rocky started talking to the waitress, often glancing at Y/N out of the corner of his eye. Now that she was no longer at the centre of attention she could relax a little bit easier. She pulled at the bottom of her graduation hoodie and fiddled with her hands (paws?) to try and soothe her claws before turning to Rocky with a question.

Rocky already beat her to it. He was practically right in her face, grinning so wide that it registered as a threat yet again in her kitty brain. However he spoke before she could hiss again or claw him or whatever her instinct was about to make her do.

“So tell me. 2023. What’s it like?”

[graveyard-party666]

Blood & Wine

Perfect image

I've been working on this chapter for quite some time and it still came out mediocre.

I might change a few things later.

Also, now I'm introducing you to a new character. :3

Working with the person you deeply admire is probably everyone's dream. Or at least almost everyone's. Red got the opportunity to work with the person she admired, thanks to Kate Laswell. That woman had her own ways that people probably shouldn't question for their own sake.

Psychologist didn't know how to react to the fact that now she'll be working with her criminology professor, who kindly agreed on helping his ex-student to do the profile of a dangerous terrorist and his associates.

That one professor in his forties who she always had a soft spot for. The one who liked his coffee black, who's smile made wrinkles around his eyes when he smiled and who's French accent was really nice to listen to. Yeah... Red definitely had a thing for accents... Especially for a certain Mancunian accent if she's being completely honest.

Abel Benar was amazing at his job. There was no one better than him, probably. Yet... Red was scared to work with him. She knew she created an image of a perfect man and working with him might shatter that perfect picture.

The fear of working with someone you admire stems from a mix of psychological factors, including imposter syndrome, fear of disappointment, and heightened performance pressure. When you admire someone, you often place them on a pedestal, viewing them as superior or untouchable. This perception can lead to self-doubt and anxiety when faced with the prospect of collaborating or working alongside them.

Imposter syndrome, characterized by feelings of inadequacy despite evident success, can intensify in such situations. We may fear that our abilities will pale in comparison to the admired individual's, leading to a fear of being exposed as fraudulent or incompetent.

Moreover, the fear of disappointing the admired person adds to the pressure. You may worry that you won't meet their expectations or live up to the image you believe they have of you, leading to anxiety and reluctance to engage in collaborative efforts.

Additionally, there's the fear of losing the admiration or respect of the person you admire if you fail to perform at your best. This fear of judgment can hinder the ability to work effectively and confidently, as you may constantly second-guess yourselves and strive for perfection.

The fear of working with someone you admire is a complex interplay of psychological factors, including imposter syndrome, fear of disappointment, and performance pressure. Overcoming this fear requires recognizing our own worth and capabilities, understanding that admiration does not equate to superiority, and embracing the opportunity to learn and grow from the experience.

But did she have a choice? Not really. She just had to accept the fate and use her mantra... 'I LOVE MY JOB!'

13:50

Red knew that if she sits in her office any longer she might be late for the meeting with the team and professor. She could only let out deep sighs once in a while, hoping it might calm her nerves at least a bit.

Loud knock brought her back from her thoughts, making her jump a bit.

"Come in", her voice sounded shaky. She felt even more anxious now that someone is seeking her out.

Soap's bright smile came in before he did, that was the feeling Red had, seeing Scottish soldier in her doorway.

"Bonnie, you might be late if we don't hurry." His voice was lively, joyful even. "Frenchie is already here. Let's go meet your professor. I want to ask him some embarrassing stories about you. Or maybe even ask him your real name."

Red can't help but chuckle, hearing MacTavish's words and seeing the teasing smirk on his handsome face.

"I don't really won't to go. I know him. He knows me. I don't think my presence there is necessary." She feels like a teenage girl right now, being that unreasonable.

"Come on, Red. Are you scared of yer own professor or something? Me and Gaz can give him a talk if that's true. We can ask Ghost too if ye want."

Soap leaned on the doorframe, tilting his head slightly, looking kindly at the girl.

She only chuckled. "No, it's not like that. It just feels awkward. He is that famous professor who's been known for helping to catch many criminals. And I'm his ex-student."

"Awkward? Oh, lassy. You're just as cool as that professor of yours. If not cooler."

MacTavish who slowly came closer to her while speaking, is now reached down to take her hand, pulling her up from the chair.

"Let's go meet up with yer Mylène Farmer"

"She's from Quebec."

"Whatever. Come on"

Red just laughs as she followed Scotsman, feeling much better and more confident.

"Yeah, let's go, braveheart."

14:06

She still felt a bit anxious as they walked through the labyrinthine corridors of the base to the briefing room. Yet, she also felt as if it's time to put aside her doubts and act like a professional that she is. It's time to listen to Soap's supportive words and show everyone that she's not just a pretty face.

Finally both of them reached to the destination. Surprisingly Red didn't even feel that anxious anymore. Weirdly eager. Eager to finish the meeting as soon as possible and relax for a moment.

Soap opened the door in front of the psychologist letting her in first. Red took a step in the room.

Professor was already there, speaking to the Task Force 141 and Laswell in a calm tone. Room's attention was now on late colleagues.

Psychologist greeted Benar with a slight nod, receiving a smile in return.

"Sorry for being late," 'i didn't want to come' - she thinks, "Please, continue."

Woman sat on the chair next to Gaz, looking down at her file as if trying to hide behind it, catching curious looks of the team.

She couldn't help but look up at Ghost who's eyes were looking at her through the eyeholes of the skull mask. His gaze would probably make the biggest, scariest soldiers fold. He nodded at her as if telling her that it's okay. 'Oh, Soap... you are such gossip'. She only once before today mentioned her thoughts about meeting the professor again and Sergeant already told Lieutenant. Snitch.

Red only raised an eyebrow looking at Soap who just innocently shrugged his shoulders as if telling her he had no idea what she thinks about. Cheeky bastard.

"I asked professor Benar to help Red with the psychological profile on Hassan. General Shepherd agreed that it will be a good help to our psychologist. " Laswell said, introducing new addition.

'Oh, Kate, just say it as it is: Shepherd thinks I'm not doing my job good enough.'

"For this mission Red will be assisted by professor Abel Benar"

'Oh, sweet, sweet, Kate. Wants me to feel in charge. Not me assisting him, but him assisting me. Good psychological trick though, i give you that.' Red shook her head.

The meeting soon ended. She heard nothing new. 'Hassan bad. Terrorism bad. Abel Benar good.'

But at least she didn't feel anxious anymore. Tired? Yes. Anxious. Not really.

But to be honest, tiredness and anxiousness is her constant state, something even pills can't cure. Maybe it's just her personality traits.

She stood up, picking her files. Men started leaving the room and Gaz, who was sitting beside her, just gave her a slight pat on the back, smiling gently before following his teammates. Red followed everyone out of the room, but right before she could reach the door Laswell, who was taking to both Price and Benar, called her. Well... guess Red just needed to face whatever Kate brings her way. And her professor too. And his kind eyes too. And his fluffy hair... too.

"Red, I'll ask you to show Professor his office for now. He will be your neighbor for now. The door next to you is office too, so please show where it is." Price spoke in a hushed tone. Red stands close enough to smell the cigar that he probably had smoked before the meeting. Weirdly enough the smell was great. Inviting, masculine. Yes, Soap was right, Price did have a smoking problem.

Kate only gave a nod, looking down at her watch, noticing the time. "I'll be leaving."

Woman leaves quickly, followed by Captain Price, who only winked at confused psychologist, leaving Red and Professor Benar standing in the briefing room.

"So... You go by Red now?" The man asked after a short pause, looking at the readhead.

Trying to explain why she uses the nickname is annoying. Now she understands why her colleagues don't talk much about the origin of their aliases. Completely understandable.

"For safety purposes. I'd ask you to not mention my name, professor. At all. My anonymity is what might keep me and my family safe."

Red's tone was completely serious, stoic. She probably took that from Ghost. His behavior was definitely leaving it's influence on her.

"I understand," he nodded slightly, smiling, "Red it is. And please, just Abel. We are colleagues after all."

His french accent sounded nice. Friendly.

"Abel it is."

14:30

Red spent some time showing professor his new working place. She had a feeling as if universe was just making fun of her. Readhead just wanted to go sit in her office, silently starting into the wall.

Which she was doing now as professor left to get a cup of coffee.

There is nothing she haven't seen or heard before. So how this man, her ex-professor is any different from men she's working with? They are now equals.

She sat in her office chair, swinging her high-heeled leg slightly. The sound of the message coming in on her phone brings her back from her thoughts. Soap asking if she will be down for lunch because apparently everyone is curious about that professor. And apparently Ghost is more grumpy than usual. Funny. Red thought it all was too funny.

Tag list: @cloudofbutterflies92 @chloekistune @justasmolbard

[thebreakfastgenie]

maybe you've already mentioned them but what are your fave jimmy buffett songs?!?!?

Thank you so much for sending this, this is so fun!!

My taste is... kind of basic, because it comes from the Jimmy Buffett songs I grew up on, which were the ones my mom sang and the ones on her bootleg tape. I really need to dig into his less famous songs more but in the meantime, here's this journey.

The first Jimmy Buffett song I ever knew was Cheeseburger in Paradise and it's still a fave. The hook on that bridge is just *chef's kiss.* Also this is how I found out what a daiquiri was, so I think of it every time I drink one. (Average night in my house: me: what's a daiquiri? my mom: it's an alcoholic drink. me: what's a Havana? my mom: it's a kind of cigar.) I kinda want to make up a tap routine to this song.

The second Jimmy Buffett song I ever knew was Margartaville and it's still a fave too, though not as much as cheeseburger. The lyrics are dry and funny but it's also really evocative; when I was interrogating my mom about the meaning of these lyrics (I did this with every song I heard) I came away thinking the narrator was kind of a depressed alcoholic. I saw a post the other day about how if you shift it into a minor key this song gets really dark and I was like yeah it already was?? But it's also just catching and relaxing, haha. I love margaritas and I do think of this song. I actually have parrot margarita glasses..... Margaritaville is also kind of passively feminist which cracks me up. It's not a woman's fault, it's his own damn fault, and he knows it!!

These are the two my mom sang to me at bedtime, and then when I was slightly older we started listening to the tape, and I got several favorites from that that are still favorites today!

The first one was Come Monday. It's a very sweet song compared to a lot of his others and I love the melody. Every time I'm excited about something that falls on a Monday I sing this to myself.

The other one that really made an impression on me was A Pirate Looks at Forty which is honestly one of my favorite songs, period. If you translate "yes I am a pirate, 200 years too late" literally into French it scans to the tune pretty well and I used to do that just for fun?? And then Jimmy Buffett did that with a bit of one of his other songs on My Brother, My Brother, and Me and I was like Oh Hey. This was the one song I really wanted to hear going into the concert, and I did!

Also on the tape I really loved Son of a Son of a Sailor! I liked Changes in Latitudes, Changes in Attitudes almost as much. And I really loved Why Don't We Get Drunk. It's hilariously honest and it's catchy as hell. When he introduced that one at the concert he mentioned that people bring their kids and grandkids to his concerts and he's not sure the songs are appropriate and I was just like well I was singing along to that when I was seven. These songs all remain favorites although these days I'm partial to the You Had to Be There version of Why Don't We Get Drunk because it's even funnier.

Not on the tape, I really like Fruitcakes. When he says "there's a little bit of fruitcake left in every one of us" I feel something??

When I was at summer camp one year we had a counselor who would sing to us and she sang He Went to Paris and I didn't realize it was Jimmy Buffett at first and when I found out I was like damn. That was one of his personal favorites, at least according to You Had to Be There. I'm still obsessed with that song.

Lately the ones I've been playing on repeat (surely driving my roommates to their very own "are you haunted? are you fucking possessed?" moment) are Mañana and Miss You So Badly. Mañana was on the tape, but I rediscovered it recently and boy do I love it. Miss You So Badly is all about the verses for me and again I prefer the You Had to Be There version.

I bolded the song names in case you want to skim haha!

[quibbs126]

May I request a Croissant and String Gummy fan child?

I’ve actually had this dude finished for like a week, I just forgot to do the mini sketch and post, but regardless, this is Ficelle Cookie

So the name comes from ficelle bread, which is a French bread basically like a baguette but thinner, so like croissant (I’ve thought for the longest time that croissants are bread and not pastry). And also making them thin makes it more like a string, like String Gummy. Plus, apparently in French, ficelle literally translates to “string”, so it all works out

Ficelle bread:

So I do admit, I took some liberties while doing his colors, like how his hair is a slightly lighter color than Croissant’s, instead of being darker or more red, and how he’s got light yellow markings in his hair, but I thought it made him look closer to the reference I had. I was at the airport while drawing him, so it was all I had. Also, I gave him red eyes while neither characters have them, but the thing was, I didn’t want to give him brown eyes because I thought he wouldn’t look enough like String Gummy, but I didn’t want to give him SG’s purple eyes, because I thought he’d look too much like another String Gummy kid I’ve done, who also has purple eyes, and he already has a similar outfit to her, so it was a way for me to differentiate the two, as well as making his accents more red. I don’t think I’ve posted the other one since it’s in a batch of 5, but she does exist

Also that headband was going to be goggles, and it was just a placeholder shape, but I never changed it and made it a headband. I like it though. Also I gave him the purple stripe just so it’d pop more

In any case, I do like how Ficelle turned out. I do admit, his outfit may be a bit too simple, but maybe this is just his work outfit. He still looks good though

Anyways, so let’s get onto him

So I imagine him as a mechanic/engineer, and he gets very engrossed in his work, preferring that over the company of other Cookies. He tends to come off as a bit rude and antisocial to others, as well as just generally rather moody

Anyways, so what he builds isn’t vehicles or other time devices like Croissant, but rather oversized anime weapons (or what I think they look like, since I don’t watch much anime). His weapons are usually more futuristic and typically guns/cannons, so he’s not really considered a blacksmith. And as you may see, it’s when using these weapons that he tends to be more…expressive, as when the opportunity presents itself to use them, he goes from a moody and serious seeming guy to a bit of a dramatic maniac, pulling out his giant weapons

Also as you can tell, I don’t know how to draw them, since it just looks like a giant laser pointer. But in my head they look cooler

I don’t he works at the TBD, especially since his “firepower” is a bit too overpowered to be necessary for their line of work. Hopefully Timekeeper hasn’t gotten their hands on any of them

Anyways yeah, not too much, but he’s still enjoyable to me, and I hope you like him too!

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

hi!! i have been eating up marilyn content and i love love your writings so i was wondering if i could request a teacher x student maybe?!

the girl is french, short, blonde and a siren!! she's very quiet but begins to open up to marilyn as being such a friendly teacher and they begin to have this fascination with eachother maybee,, she starts giving marilyn gifts for being so kind to her and lingering around her, basically as much affection that she can communicate,, if smut is okay, with marilyn growing attached and wanting more with her, more rough and then she is also teasing and playful?

sorry i'm so !! i have never requested anything before,, thank you for considering if you do!! <3

Yesss!!! I've read your add-on too :)!!! Here it is!!! I hope you like it, and sorry about the language mistakes

Nouvelle étudiante

Pairing: Marilyn Thornhill x Fem, Student, Siren! Reader

Warnings: Smut, all Marilyn’s usual kinks

Word count: 3,556

Summary: You’re new at Nevermore, and you feel strange there. Maybe one of your teachers can be so kind to fascinate you…

N/A: Requests are open!!! Sorry about the delays, I’m working hard on your requests. I love you all!!!

���Don't worry, here you can be one of us,” Bianca, your classmate, told you while you went to your second class of your first day.

You nodded head down. She was a mermaid like you, but that didn't make you feel any better. You were in Nevermore, in the United States, far away from home. Apparently the French coast is not the most suitable place for a siren.

After several boats ran aground on the cliffs, everyone became suspicious of you. Neither you nor your parents knew what to say to them. Although if they had been reasonable people, probably blaming the storm that hit the coast those days, would have been enough to them.

It was a very different place, too far from home, too far from everything you held dear. Apparently there the sirens were everywhere. Each one with its own story, and with a bit of pride. You never considered your condition an advantage, or a method to achieve any goal. Your grandmother took it upon herself to teach you the importance of being a siren, of doing good things and not using your song except to protect yourself from danger.

Language was not a problem for you at all, but still you barely spoke to anyone. You were too overwhelmed by the whole place and you were already quite shy. According to your new companion, that was not a very common trait in mermaids and she would "take care of changing it".

Your first class was as embarrassing as you imagined. You had to speak, to tell your life to those strangers, or at least try to. According to Bianca, your next class was botany. It wasn't something to dislike, plants were good for you, but just the idea of having to be the center of attention again gave you chills.

Entering the old building you swallowed hard. You were nervous, and there were still people who had not noticed your presence and were looking at you curiously. A hand on your shoulder distracted you from your fears. You turned abruptly.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. You are (Y/N), right?”

It must be the teacher. You nodded, looking closely at that woman, who smiled innocently at you. It seemed nonsense to you, but somehow you saw something different in her. Something you were desperately looking for since you arrived at the academy, kindness.

“The cat got your tongue?” She joked in a nice way. Your cheeks flushed, looking around. Fortunately, it seemed that no one was paying attention to that conversation.

“Oui, I mean, yes, it's me,” You said, unable to avoid answering in your language. It seemed like an eternity had passed since you last spoke.

“Great, my name is Marilyn Thornhill, I'll be your botany teacher,” she said kindly, shaking your hand.

No teacher had the courtesy to greet you during the two days you were there. That gave you some hope.

“How was your first class?” She asked, waiting for the rest of students to take their seats.

You didn't answer, you just shrugged. You weren't going to tell her the terrible ridicule your teacher put you through.

“Well, take it easy. It may seem like it, but I don't bite,” she said winking at you. A chill ran through your body, without really knowing why. “And I'm not going to make you stand up in the middle of the class to tell your story. You see, I'm new here too and I know how embarrassing it can be.”

You felt great relief. No doubt that woman was good, understanding. Now the plants attracted you a little more, although you struggled to recognize that they really were the plants and not something else...

“Merci, madame,” you said, smiling for the first time in a long time. Marilyn smiled too.

“Well, go sit down, I'm glad to meet you,” she said, clapping her hands together.

You felt somehow disappointed by the brevity of that conversation, but you nodded and complied, sitting in the front row.

It was not a boring class. Marilyn tried very hard to get your attention. Not everyone liked plants, but her admiration went much further. She treated them delicately, as if they were something precious, unique.

The whole class was silent. It was your usual state, it wasn't something extraordinary, but Bianca insisted on talking to you, and you only responded with gestures, not wanting to miss a single word from the redhead.

When the bell rang, the “wonderful Barclay” nudged you.

“Hey, what's wrong with you?” She asked with a frown. You shook your head and rolled your innocent eyes. “I've been talking to you all the time, and you haven't answered me.”

“Um.. I don't like to talk in class,” you said awkwardly.

“You don't like to talk at all, from what I see. It's funny, my mother always said that there was a special connection between sirens...” She explained to you. You wanted to listen to her, you really did, but your eyes went to the back of the class, where Marilyn was picking up the stuff she had been teaching.

“Well, are you coming to the cafeteria? It's our free time.”

“I'm going later,” you said making a gesture with your hand. Bianca was taken aback by your reaction, but she came out of the conservatory muttering something that surely wasn't praise.

The redhead didn't realize you were there until you cleared your throat. As she did so, she looked up and smiled solemnly.

“(Y/N), how was the class? Is that interesting to you?” She asked, brushing off her hands.

“Oh, oui, yes,” you said nervously. “I never would have imagined that there was such a variety of plants.”

Marilyn laughed and shook her head.

“You don't have to be so nice, I know that to some of your classmates this class is just to take a nap,” she teased, leaning on her desk.

“I, I really like it,” you said, noticing how your cheeks turned red. Something had caught your eye, and you wished it wasn't one of your famous unattainable loves. You had been suffering all your life for noticing the least suitable person.

“Well, I'm glad to hear it,” the redhead said, without removing that friendly smile from her face.

“Can I… Can I help you?” You asked without thinking too much. Marilyn blinked rapidly, as if this kindness was something strange.

“Wow, nobody had ever offered to help me pick up all of this,” she said, surprised, but pleased. “If you want… Although I don't want you to waste your free time.”

“No, I don’t care. It's not like I had something better to do either...” You said sighing.

“Don't you get along with your classmates?” Marilyn asked, with a slightly maternal tone.

“I haven't had the chance to meet them. I'm just… I'm very shy,” you said embarrassed. You didn't mean her to pity you, but it was the truth. That was a totally new environment for you, and even under normal circumstances you were never a very sociable person.

She laughed softly.

“Don't worry, I understand you. I already told you that I am also new. I know how difficult changes are, and even more so if you've come so far.”

You were very appreciative of that understanding. No one in that place seemed to have it.

“At least you are like them. I don't,” the redhead sighed, handing you a small pot so that you could place it in its place.

“What do you mean?” You asked curiously.

“Haven't they told you? It surprises me. It's usually the first thing they say about me when someone new arrives. It's kind of a tradition, you know. “Well, did you know that Ms. Thornhill is a normie? Breaking news”

You didn't understand the meaning of that word and frowned.

“Excuse me, Normie?”

“Yeah, well, you know, people without... Special abilities, normal people,” she explained, a bit confused. “How do you call them in France?”

You shook your head, setting the small pot on a table in the corner.

“I Don't know. In my town was my family and then the rest of the people,” you commented.

“Oh,” she said nodding, quite interested.

“They have never done anything to us, but last month there was a storm and some ships sank. They couldn't blame the weather, so they blamed me. This is why I'm here.”

“What a pity, I'm sure it's been very hard for you,” she said, getting dangerously close and doing something that almost made you faint, gently caressing your cheek.

It was comforting but strange at the same time. It was an unexpected gesture. Even someone who had appeared there at the time might have found it inappropriate in some way.

“Well… No… It hasn't been so bad,” you stuttered, marking your French accent without meaning to. It always happened to you when you got nervous.

After two weeks, you stopped feeling out of place. You were more animated and you made friends. You still didn't talk usually, but at least you did and Bianca stopped picking on you and telling you how weird you were for being a siren. You even signed up for the choir. Your singing was not going to save you from any danger, you had a medallion that prevented its effects, but your voice was still heavenly, and being the only one who spoke French made you to earn some extra points.

There was something else that caused that change in your mood. Something totally unexpected.

Marilyn and you started talking after class. With her you felt safe in your first days. She was a kind, friendly teacher. With her you could talk about your problems, your insecurities, and even she seemed to trust you more, and tell you some of hers.

That was not supposed to happen. No one would deny a student the right to get along with a teacher. But the conversations you had were getting deeper and deeper.

Within a few days it was clear to you that you liked her, a lot. But you decided to shut up. There was no way the feeling was mutual. Still, you allowed yourself to have some details with her. Not because you were slowly falling in love with her. You used the excuse of thanking her for everything she had done for you. You didn't know how to show more affection than that gestures, a gift, two, three a day. Your visits to Jericho's flower shop became more and more frequent. They were always flowers, and she always loved them.

The meetings at night did not take long to appear. You weren't interested in the endless ‘girl talk’ at Bianca's room, or the clandestine parties being thrown in some kind of club or secret cult.

You were only interested on meeting her every night. You chatted, you laughed, your relationship had long since it transcended pure innocence.

One of those nights, without warning, she walked up to you, without saying a word. As if it were a dream, she placed her lips on yours, with a delicacy that seemed to stop time. You didn't understand anything, you only thought you were dreaming, that your senses betrayed you. Nothing of that. It was real, it was happening and you couldn't believe it.

It was something that seemed far away, unattainable. But it was happening. There was no regret, no words of forgiveness or nervousness. She was sure of what she was doing, and so are you.

The explanations never came, you didn't want to know them either. It was nicer to think what her motivations could be. Maybe she fell in love with you at first sight, maybe your French accent captivated her, maybe your amulet broke and you were accidentally manipulating her. No, it wasn't that. You were just two lost souls who had felt rejected by society. Each one with their own problems and their own demons.

It was not right, it was forbidden. The mere fact of kissing you was reason enough for her to be fired from Nevermore, for her to be rejected once again. Just imagining it gave you nightmares. She couldn't leave, she had to stay with you. You would run no better luck. Your parents would probably be called and your little jaunt to America would be over. You were of legal age, there was no crime in what you did, but society would surely be not able to understand it due to its rigid moral and ethical values.

That afternoon you had done your usual routine. You bought a small pot for her, with a flower of magnificent colors. Unfortunately for you, Marilyn wasn't in the conservatory. You huffed in disappointment, but you left that little gift on her desk.

At night things changed. A message from your lover arrived on your phone and you had to skillfully juggle so that your companions did not read it. “I wait for you, same place as always, (Y/N)”

Could it be her mean at the cafeteria? No, it was night and it was closed, in her room? No, too risky. Whenever she sent you a message it was to let you know of any change on your plans. You had to bite your nails not to ask more. Little by little you were gaining confidence, but you didn't want to seem pushy or overly enthusiastic.

Your mind worked for several seconds, and finally came to the conclusion that "same place as always" was none other than the conservatory.

You quietly walked through the corridors of the school, almost completely empty. You always had to walk with a thousand eyes.

A dim light shone on the old glass-enclosed building. It was obvious that she was there, and that she must have already found the flower.

You timidly opened the door. Marilyn was there, admiring your gift. Your cheeks blushed when you saw how that flower looked.

“Oh, (Y/N), it's beautiful. You always manage to surprise me,” she told you as soon as she saw you, approaching to give you a soft and tender kiss.

“It doesn't matter… I like doing it,” you said, turning your ankle on the ground in a childish way. She grabbed your waist and pulled you into a tight hug.

“You're so good…” The redhead whispered, brushing a blond lock away from your face. “Where have you been all my life?”

“Apparently in the wrong continent…” You said, in a slightly more cheeky tone than usual.

Just with her soft grip on your body she could make you so hot that your good and introverted character changed radically. And you didn't do it accidentally, you had a good reason.

“Luckily you're here now…” She told you, with that innocent voice.

You were with other things on your mind. You didn't need her tenderness at that moment, you needed her other side. Her wild and a little darker side. Saying nothing, you moved out of her embrace and walked around her desk, playing with the papers on it.

“What are you doing?” Marilyn asked, looking at you curiously.

“Nothing… Just playing with your papers,” you said suggestively, throwing several of them to the ground. You expected her to take the hint, but she didn't, she just widened her eyes.

“(Y/N)? It doesn't look like you,” she said, bending down to pick up those papers.

You rolled your eyes and sighed. It was very difficult to activate her. Without thinking twice, you put your leg on the table, caressing it gently.

“I think it has given me a leg ache, can you give me a massage?” You asked with dark eyes. She got up with a frown. You must have been making a terrible fool of yourself, but her gaze darkened.

“No, (Y/N),” she said sternly, lowering your leg off the desk. “I didn't expect you to be so rude.”

“Then you should do something about it, right?” You asked ironically. She bit her lip and approached you in a threatening manner, grabbing your chin.

“What I should do with you, huh? I don't think a simple punishment will be enough,” she told you, without relaxing her grip on you. You raised your head smiling to yourself.

Those little games you used to have usually took place on her bedroom. That night there was something in the atmosphere that made you want it right there and then.

“I don't know,” you said defiantly, reaching out a hand to her chest. The redhead jerked it away.

“Poor silly girl…” She hissed. “Are you sure you want to make mommy angry, honey?”

“I'm not afraid of you,” you said jokingly, earning yourself a slap on the cheek.

“You will be afraid, (Y/N). I liked the shy girl you were before… You were so embarrassing… Look at you now, begging for some attention.”

“You know that you don’t like it. You like to tame me…” You said through your teeth.

“You are very cheeky, (Y/N),” she told you, finally releasing you from her grip. “Deep down you just play tough, but you're just a doll. A rag doll that mommy can do whatever she wants with.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.” You kept pressing the situation, now with almost total freedom.

The passionate kisses came right after. You were good, innocent, or almost. But in those moments you were invaded by a sensation and a need to be dominated, to have her above you, dominating your spirit. Without giving you time to breathe, Marilyn grabbed your legs and hauled you up onto the table, running her hand up the inside of your uniform skirt.

“I think you need some lessons, (Y/N). You have to learn to be a good girl for mommy...” She whispered to you, while she removed your underwear, without taking off your skirt.

Her breathing was rapid and irregular. She liked that game and she was the one who taught you how much fun it could be, even though it may seem a bit strange.

“What are you waiting for? I'm bored,” you said sighing, causing her nails to dig into your inner thigh, causing you an indiscreet moan.

“My rebellious girl... Don't worry... Mommy is here and she's going to help you to behave...” She said, gently rubbing the place where her nails dug in.

“I'm lost without you, mommy,” you said with a provocatively high voice and looking at your lover piteously.

“I know, sweetheart…” Marilyn replied, giving you a disturbingly tender hug. “Now spread those beautiful legs, honey.”

You nodded biting your lip and obeyed. She gasped and led her hand to your crotch. It was evident that you wanted her very much at that moment, and your body was involuntarily showing it.

“You're so wet, (Y/N), tell me, does misbehaving turn you on? Does it turn you on to make mommy angry?” She asked in a childish tone.

You didn't answer, you just closed your eyes letting yourself be carried away by the pleasure that her touch was giving you. That feeling stopped, and turned into a strong hair pulling.

“Speak, little doll. Say it turns you on, or mommy won't fuck you...” She threatened, her eyes completely covered with lust and desire.

“Oui... J'aime... Me, I like to misbehave... Mommy...” You stammered.

A wicked smile appeared on her face as she let go of your hair and slipped her fingers into your slippery wetness.

Her rhythm was not affectionate, nor calm. It was wild, full of desire and a desire for domination. It wasn't a gift, it was a punishment.

“Look how well behaved are you now, honey…” She said, increasing her speed.

You writhed on the table and threw your head back, enjoying to the fullest that sex that was so different, so forbidden...

“I'm going… I'm going to…” You murmured between moans, unable to resist the intensity of her rhythm. Only Marilyn had achieved something like this in your entire life.

“That's it, my girl… Let yourself go. Show mommy how good you can be...”

She didn't give you time to think of an answer. Soon your muscles tensed and your entire body went rigid, bursting with pleasure.

You were trying to catch your breath, but of course the redhead wasn't going to make it so easy for you.

“On your knees, my little doll... Now you're going to thank mommy for everything she does for you,” she said, pulling down her own underwear.

You were too weak from the previous burst of pleasure, and Marilyn took advantage of that situation to move you just the way she liked, as if you were a simple rag doll.

“That's it, baby… Give mommy all your love…” She gasped when you started to work under her dress.

It didn't take long for her to break free as well, gripping your head tightly, preventing you from pulling away from her.

When you both caught your breath, Marilyn offered you her hand to help you to your feet. She was a perverted sex monster, but as soon as you finished, she was back to her old Marilyn. Good, kind and affectionate.

“I didn't expect this to happen,” she told you, kissing your cheek.

“I did not expect to find someone like you in my life.”

[totowlff]

chapter one — wasting precious time

➝ after a completely disastrous date, cassie makes a decision that will change her life

➝ word count: 5,1k

➝ warnings: swearing

➝ notes: this project is something I've been developing with @formationlaps​ and it's one of the things I've been most excited about in recent days. a warning, just for context: the story takes place in 2017, and the chapters do not have a regular time gap between them, as in star-crossed. we hope you like it as much as we do!

It was a very dull Friday afternoon, and Cassie was trying to finish up work for the day, not that there was very much going on. She had a slide deck to finish up, and some copy from one of her coworkers to proof, but none of it was urgent. She played with her necklace — a small silver charm with an engraving on it — as her mind wandered, trying to imagine what her plans were for the weekend without a race to watch. 

She worked in marketing for a motorsport racing team. Not just any racing team, the three-time double world champion Mercedes AMG Formula 1 team. She was going on her 7th year with the team. She started with the team as a marketing intern right after she finished her degree at Cambridge, soon after the Brawn GP team was purchased by Daimler and became Mercedes GP. 

Cassie remembered her parents being horrified, not only at the fact that she’d joined the management course at Cambridge instead of just doing the Classics course like was when she’d started university, but at her getting an internship, and even worse, a job.

She was living the kind of life her parents dreaded her living; she was 35 years old, single, and had no children. But, she had built a life she’d liked, which was the only thing that mattered to her. She had a great job that she loved, an adorable flat in Oxfordshire, a good group of friends, and an active social life. She traveled quite a bit, too. She didn’t have much of a relationship with her family anymore, aside from an aunt, and her younger sister. She went on occasional dates, but hadn’t found the man she wanted to be with forever. She’d broken up with her last serious boyfriend going on three years ago.

Cassie was distracted by her phone vibrating on her desk. She flipped it over to check her notifications, and saw that she had one from Tinder. She hated dating apps, but that seemed to be the way to meet people nowadays. Once in a while, though, prospects were promising. She was most recently talking to a man named Peter. He was a few years older than her, but he was kind and funny, and they seemed to have a lot in common. They’d been messaging each other regularly for the past week, and their conversations had gotten surprisingly deep for a dating app. Cassie had really taken a liking to him already, and looked forward to seeing his messages. They hadn’t met up yet, but the message he’d just sent was him asking her if she wanted to meet for dinner the next night.

“I made a reservation at Pierre Victoire”, he wrote. “For 6pm, tomorrow night, so I hope you like French food.” 

“I love it,” she wrote to him. Truth be told, she had no strong feeling about it either way, but she liked this guy, and really wanted their date to go well. Despite what she’d thought about her parents’ prescribed plan for her life, she had been thinking lately that finding someone to settle down with would be nice, and so would starting a family of her own. As long as her potential partner respected her independence, and the fact that she liked her job. She was never going to be a stay-at-home mother; she liked her job too much for that, and had worked very hard to get as far as she had.

Peter seemed to fit those requirements.

The next day, Cassie spent the morning lounging around her apartment, answering a few emails and tidying up a bit, washing the dishes from the night before and putting the clothes she had used during the week in the wash. She exchanged a few messages with Peter, who said he was looking forward to their meeting later. Cassie couldn't deny that she was starting to feel butterflies in her stomach.

During the afternoon, she devoted herself to preparing for her date. She drew herself a bath spending a while relaxing in the warm water mixed with the lavender bath salts she loved. After her bath, she put on some makeup and styled her hair, pulling it back into a relaxed ponytail.

The hardest part, in Cassie's view, was choosing an outfit. She had to pick something that didn’t clash with her bright red hair, and something appropriate for the restaurant. The bistro they were going to wasn't luxurious enough to require formal wear, but at the same time, she thought she should wear something nice, different from her usual work clothes, or the t-shirts and ratty jeans she liked to wear that her mother had always abhorred.

In the face of such doubts, there was only one person she could count on.

She picked up her phone from her  bed and tapped the screen a few times until she found the name she was looking for. It didn't take long for the face of Helena, her sister, to appear on the screen.

— What's up, Cassie? — Helena said — Everything ready for your date?

She smiled at her sister.

— Not really. I’m actually calling you to talk about what I'm going to wear.

— Are you asking for an opinion? That’s unexpected. Usually you do whatever you feel like doing. Hang on  — Helena said. She turned her face to the side and said something to someone off-camera. It was probably Jack, her husband.

— It's just… The restaurant is casual, but not too casual, you know?

Helena scratched her chin.

— Perhaps you could wear a dress?

— In this cold?

— That’s what tights are for, Cassie — she laughed, before saying something to her son, Icarus, who looked like he was trying to grab at something he shouldn't.

After they discussed a few options, she decided to wear a moss green knit dress, paired with thick black tights and tall black leather boots. It would go well with her black scarf and the black peacoat she had. Helena wished her luck and ended the call, to let Cassie finish getting ready.

The restaurant was fairly close to Cassie’s flat, so she didn't have to leave long in advance. After driving around a bit looking for a place to park her car, a silver Mercedes-Benz CLA 250 leased on the company’s generous leasing scheme, she managed to get a space in front of the Royal Air Force office in Oxford, walking the rest of the way to the restaurant by foot. It wasn’t far, but she was grateful that she’d opted not to wear heels.

As soon as she entered the establishment, she found Peter sitting at one of the tables against the wall, just below a painting of a pastry chef, scrolling through something on his cell phone. Walking over to where he stood, Cassie felt butterflies in her stomach.

— Peter?

The man stood up, smiling.

— Good evening, Cassie. It’s very nice to finally meet you in person.

She sat in the chair across from him, slinging her purse over the back of the chair.

— You look very beautiful. More beautiful than in the pictures.

— Thanks. You also look very nice.

They chatted for a while before a waiter approached them and asked if he could start the service.

— Yes, no problem — Peter replied — Oh, and the wine, as well.

The man nodded and walked away from the table, causing Cassie to raise an eyebrow.

— He's not going to bring out the menu so we can order?

— No, no, I've already done that.

Cassie blinked.

— You already ordered for us? — she asked, skeptically.

— Yes, I already placed our orders, just to make things a bit easier. You don’t mind, right? After all, I'm the one paying.

She felt her heart sink inside her chest.

— No, no, I don’t mind. I just wanted to know what they really served. I trust you. After all, not many people don't like pineapple on their pizza around here — Cassie replied, trying to lighten the mood. 

“I shouldn't have trusted him”, she thought, as the waiter brought the two plates of escargot and placed them on the table.

She hated escargot. She hated it to the point that she threw up at a dinner party put on by her father when she was a child. The dinner was in honor of a French businessman who had visited the family's country home in Chichester to buy some racehorses from her father. Cassie was quickly sent away from the table and went to sleep without dinner that night, as punishment for causing her family such embarrassment.

Taking a deep breath, she took a sip of white wine and picked up the tongs and fork. Cassie couldn’t refuse and risk the slight to Peter, who had probably chosen the dish to offer the most French experience possible. Scooping the contents out of the animal's shell, she felt her stomach churn. “Come on, Cassie, it's not that bad. Just focus on the garlic”, she thought to herself, lifting the meat to her mouth.

The earthy flavor, mixed with butter and garlic, was the same as she remembered from that fateful family dinner. Taking two bites, she swallowed the snail practically whole, trying to push away the memories that kept coming back to her mind.

— Very tasty, isn't it? — Peter said, smiling — I love escargot.

— I do too — she lied, scooping out the contents of another shell and bringing it to her mouth. “Only five more to go”, Cassie thought to herself, trying to suppress the urge to gag or vomit.

She managed to eat the rest of them with the help of a few generous sips of wine — at least the wine was good — and almost cried with joy when the waiter took away the escargot plates. Drinking some water to cleanse the awful earthiness from her palate, Cassie was taking in the surroundings when Peter cleared his throat.

— Well, since we're here, nothing better than taking the opportunity to get to know each other better. You went to university, right?

— Yes, I studied Classics and Management.

— Two very different areas.

— Yes — she laughed — My parents are pretty traditional, so they wanted me to study Classics, but during my third year, I decided to shift to management and marketing.

— Interesting. Why the change?

“I better not start talking about my parents now”, she thought.

— I just found it a little dry. A little dated, I suppose.

Peter smiled.

— And you preferred something more contemporary?

— Yes — Cassie replied with a smile — And I’m glad I did, because I ended up with a job I love.

— Where are you working?

— At the Mercedes F1 factory, in Brackley. 

He picked up his wine glass, nodding without much enthusiasm.

— Interesting.

The conversation continued until the main course arrived, filets of sea bass served with sautéed chorizo, crushed new potatoes, wilted spinach and chive beurre blanc. “At least it looks appetizing”, she thought, taking a bite of fish. After a few seconds of silence, Cassie decided to break the silence.

— And you, where do you work?

Peter looked up at her.

— I'm a solicitor. I work in an office right here in Oxford.

— That's cool — Cassie said — Did you go to uni here?

— No, I went to Queen Mary, in London. But I came here to sit for a specialization and ended up quite liking the city. I expect to be here for the rest of my life, or most of it — he replied.

— And what do you see your life looking like here in Oxford? — she asked, spearing a potato with her fork.

— Ah, I believe it would be working my way up my law firm, with my wife at home, taking care of our children.

Cassie blinked.

— Staying at home?

— Yes, but it would be something discussed with her, not imposed. It's just that, personally, I wouldn't want to see my partner working outside the home, especially in very… Masculine environments.

— Masculine environments?

— Yeah, like law firms, engineering firms, architecture firms… Formula 1 car factories.

Cassie dropped her knife and fork on the table rather loudly.

— Do you have a problem with my job? — she snapped.

Peter was staring at her, his expression slightly shocked, mouth agape 

— No, not at all, I even like Formula 1 a lot. I even think that new kid from Mercedes, as he is called… He won his first race last year, in Spain…

— Max Verstappen?

— That's right, Verstappen, I think he's a good driver, I like him a lot. I just think it's a very… Masculine environment and I wouldn't feel comfortable if my partner worked there.

— And you expect your hypothetical partner would quit her job for you?

— Well, if she loved me, I believe she would.

She couldn't help but let out a wry laugh.

— What if she wanted to stay at her job?

— Then we would have a problem, because I wouldn’t want my partner to not be at home, keeping the house, instead of traveling around the world, leaving me to take care of the children. Especially with so many men around.

— You mean you wouldn't trust your partner? Even if she loved you?

— There's no use in love, commitment is what is necessary. For me, commitment is supporting my career by being a good wife to me and a good mother to my future children.

—So, you require your partner to be committed to your dreams and wishes, but you are not committed to hers?

He didn’t answer.

Cassie took the glass in front of her and downed the rest of the wine in one gulp. Then she removed the cloth napkin from her lap and stood up, grabbing her purse from her chair.

— Where are you going? You haven't even finished your dinner…

— Honestly, Peter, if you had just told me you were a sexist asshole when we started talking, it would have saved us both a lot of time, and saved you some money — she said loudly, drawing a few looks.

— Cassie, I don't…

— Working in a male-dominated environment does not make me any less worthy than any other woman — she continued — I am very proud to work at Mercedes and proud of us being three-time double world champions. Not that you understand anything about Formula 1, do you?

— I do, I watch the Grand Prix every weekend…

— Then you would know that my team's drivers are named Lewis Hamilton and Valtteri Bottas. Max Verstappen races for Red Bull, and I’d hate it if he raced for Mercedes.

Peter's face was red, eyes scanning the room, seeing the other diners staring at them. People were starting to whisper.

— Cassie, would you sit down so we can have a civilized conversation?

—Is it really possible to have a civilized conversation with a man who thinks a woman's place is in the home, cleaning, cooking, and giving birth? — she said, raising her voice very intentionally — A man who doesn't care about the opinion of the woman he has dinner with?

— I didn't say that, Cassie.

— You didn’t have to say it! You simply decided what we were going to eat instead of asking my opinion!

— I decided on our menu because I know French cuisine and you don't...

She gave a sardonic laugh.

— How do you know I don't?

— Well, I assumed…

— I grew up holidaying in France! I've had more croissants in a year than you’ve probably had chip shop platters in your entire life!

Peter was staring at her with a shocked expression.

— Cassie, please…

— What? — she screamed.

— Let's talk in a more private place, more calmly…

Cassie knew that tactic. Her ex-boyfriend used to use it on her all the time. He would suggest that they go talk privately, so he could isolate her and talk down to her, making her seem like she was the unreasonable one.

“Not today”, she thought.

— You know what? Go fuck yourself, Peter.

She practically stomped out of the restaurant, slamming the front door quite abruptly. She didn’t even stop to put on her jacket, carrying it under her arm. Outside, the cold wind was buffeting against her, but Cassie couldn't care less. The irritation coursing through her body was enough to keep her warm. She arrived at her car, got into the vehicle, and took a deep breath.

Then she punched the steering wheel three times, getting all her anger out.

— Asshole, asshole, asshole! — she repeated, anger permeating her voice.

After a few more punches to the steering wheel and a few minutes of deep breathing, she felt better. She drove back to her apartment in absolute silence, not even bothering to turn the radio on.

Cassie arrived back at her apartment, peeling off her boots by the front door and kicking them off with little care as to where they landed. She dropped her purse on her coffee table. Before she sat down on the couch, she went to the fridge, spotting what she was looking for right away — an unopened bottle of sauvignon blanc she’d bought on her last shopping trip. She took a wine glass — an actual white wine glass, because she had separate glasses for reds and whites — out of her pantry and poured it with a fairly heavy hand. The glass was far fuller than would be proper, but she wasn’t sure she cared.

“Ah, fuck it”, she thought, pouring it almost to the top.

She didn’t drink regularly, even as a means of relaxing, but after such a horrific date with someone that she had such high hopes for, who turned out to be the latest contestant in the competition for Oxford’s Worst Man, she figured she deserved it. She pulled a large packet of crisps from her pantry and plopped down on the couch, taking care not to spill her wine. 

Cassie had intended to watch a film until she went to sleep — perhaps Love, Actually, never mind that it was a holiday film and Christmas had been two weeks ago, or Amélie, which she first watched in Year 11 with a French girl at school, but instead, she’d picked up her phone and started scrolling through Instagram. Despite working in marketing, she didn’t like posting much, but she did like to lurk and look at other people’s posts. She followed people she knew in person, of course — friends, some coworkers, people from other Formula 1 teams, and even complete strangers. 

She took a healthy gulp of wine and started scrolling as she munched on the crisps. Sauvignon blanc and Walker’s Cheese and Onion crisps probably were a pairing that would make her parents and their friends faint, but she didn’t care. She’d seen news reports about birth rates around the world falling to record lows, but Cassie would’ve never guessed that was the case, looking at her Instagram feed. It seemed like it was an endless stream of adorably-staged pregnancy announcements with sonogram pictures and tiny pairs of shoes, pictures of small children with birthday cake smeared over their faces, pictures of children meeting Santa.

Cassie never managed to watch anything that night — instead, two glasses of wine down, she was still scrolling through Instagram, with tears streaming down her face. 

She was never sure she wanted children. For a long time she didn’t, because her parents had expected her to start having them after finishing university and finding a suitable man to marry. By the time she finished university, at the institution they’d selected for her, because several generations of her family had attended, she wanted nothing to do with marriage or children. She’d studied management in her third year, which her parents did not approve of, and found that she’d had quite the talent for marketing. She took on an internship, ending up at a company where, for the first time in her life, nobody knew who her parents were, nor did they care. It was refreshing. The job was very interesting, and she was good at it, so when she was offered a permanent position after her internship ended, she jumped at the chance. She’d been at Mercedes ever since.

“Did I actually not want children, or did I just not want to give my parents what they wanted?”, Cassie thought, slugging back the last of her wine. She wiped the tears off of her cheeks and closed Instagram. It was only making her feel worse.

She looked at her clock, and realized that it was almost midnight — time to go to bed, anyway. She lumbered around her apartment, unsteady on her feet while going through her nighttime routine — brushing her teeth, washing her face… Drinking a tall glass of water and some paracetamol, as she knew she would certainly have wine-related regrets in the morning. 

She changed into her pajamas and laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling and letting her thoughts unspool in the darkness.

For a while now, she’d felt like there was a big gap in her life. Until now, it wasn’t obvious what. It was just something whispering in the back of her mind, lurking on the periphery. She had plenty of friends, she was able to travel — she’d actually recently gotten back from a holiday to the Swiss Alps, where she’d spent Christmas and New Years’ with some friends — but maybe coming back to her dark, empty flat every night after work was starting to wear on her. She didn’t really need, or want, a partner, especially if most of the available dating pool turned out to be like Peter, but her mind was starting to change on wanting children.

And she could handle raising a child, even alone. She had a well-paying, stable career, the benefits were generous, Mercedes offered maternity leave and some sort of childcare stipend scheme. And medical science being what it was, she didn’t even need a partner. She’d seen a documentary about the in-vitro fertilization process — it didn’t seem pleasant or easy, but it could work. She’d have some eggs collected, fertilized with donor sperm, they’d put the egg back in, and boom — nine months later, she’d have a baby! She could even pick the father out of a catalog, which certainly sounded better than finding one on a dating app, considering the one that came from the catalog wouldn’t be around to make her feel worthless and miserable, like Peter likely would have, and like Callum did. 

Callum was the last serious boyfriend she had. They’d broken up three years ago. He was very handsome, with striking blue eyes and straw-colored hair. He was intelligent and kind, and he made her laugh. He was a fantastic cook, and had incredibly soft hands. She’d known him from university, and their paths happened to cross again when he took a job as a laboratory researcher and instructor at Oxford University. He was an astronomer, and did things with telescopes, lots of maths, and old computer systems that Cassie didn’t really understand, but they bonded one night when he snuck her into an observatory at Cambridge. He turned on the planetarium so they could “stargaze”, looking at stars and constellations. She told him the stories of the figures from Greek and Roman myths they were named for. They shared their first kiss under the fake starry sky that night, but ended up losing touch after graduation. He got a job at Oxford University, and, knowing she lived and worked in the area, looked her up. They reconnected and ended up dating for a long time, and were to the point of discussing engagement and marriage. She had even given him a key to her flat, and he would stay over frequently. He gradually started becoming controlling, interrogating her about all of her comings and goings, telling her that she had to stop talking to certain friends, questioning her about anyone she interacted with. 

Meanwhile, he would be out until all hours of the night, even when he wasn’t in the lab, without so much as a phone call to tell Cassie he’d be out, so she would worry about him. He was spending time with “the boys” — so he said. When she confronted him, Callum made her believe she was being selfish and trying to control him, while also calling her a bunch of very nasty things. They began to have fights regularly, until one day, she broke down and cried at work when he’d called her in the middle of the day to scream at her over some WhatsApp messages he’d found on her laptop. He’d come to her flat while she wasn’t there, for God knows what reason, and had guessed the password to her computer. She’d been talking to a friend of hers about what to do about him, and she encouraged him to break it off with him. 

She tried to remain calm, lest she look unprofessional, as her desk was in the middle of a floor filled with other cubicles, so she ran to find an empty conference room for some privacy. Callum screamed at her, she screamed back. Her emotions got the better of her and she started sobbing. Cassie realized that Callum was trying to control her, just like her parents had when she was younger. She yelled at him to get out of her flat or she’d call the police, and then hung up. She continued to cry, until she heard the door to the conference room opening behind her. She whipped around to see, to her horror, Toto Wolff, the CEO and owner of the company, walking through the door.

— Toto! I… Uh — Cassie stammered, trying desperately to scrub the tears from her eyes.

— I’m sorry, I thought this room was… Oh, no… Are… Are you okay? — he said, concern filling his brown eyes. 

— Sorry, I… I just had something personal come up and wanted some privacy, I’ll go back to my desk now — Cassie said, hurrying to get up from the chair she was sitting in.

— No, I’m sorry, Cassandra, take all the time in here that you need, I can find another conference room. Unless… Is it something I might be able to help with? This might be too forward of me, but, you know I’m happy to talk to anybody here who needs someone to talk to, whether it’s a work-related matter or not.

Cassie sighed as she walked to the door, stopping in front of Toto. 

He’d started on as team principal and CEO a year after she’d been hired on permanently. Cassie didn’t interact with him one-on-one on a regular basis, usually only in marketing meetings with the rest of her team. She was not one of the people that regularly traveled to the actual Grands Prix. Her direct boss, Victoria, did, and she and the other people that did always spoke very highly of him. 

Her interactions with him had always been positive — he was always very friendly. The company had changed dramatically after Toto, and his business partner, Niki Lauda, took over for Ross Brawn, and for the better, in Cassie’s opinion. Plus, he was, also in Cassie’s opinion — and the opinion of pretty much everyone else in the company — rather easy on the eyes. 

He was tall and lean, but had some muscle, especially on his arms and shoulders. He had a handsome face with a strong jawline and a very distinctive nose. He had dark brown eyes that always looked warm and kind, and thick brown hair that he was constantly running his hands through, especially when he talked to reporters. He had a voice that was deep, but gentle at the same time. He had an excellent sense of humor. He was from Austria, and had an accent that Cassie always thought was charming, especially when he couldn’t remember a word in English and had to try and explain it in German. It was well-known that he was single and didn’t have any children, but nobody in the office could figure out why.   

— No… It’s silly. Just… Relationship stuff — Cassie said, averting her gaze to the gray carpeting on the conference room floor. 

— Hmm… It doesn't seem like it’s something silly if it’s making you so upset — he turned back toward the door, holding it open for her — Come with me. We’ll go downstairs and we can talk about it over some coffee… If you want to. You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t feel comfortable doing so, but you certainly look like you could use a break, in any case.

Cassie looked at him skeptically.

— You don’t have a meeting, or something? Isn’t that what you were looking for an empty conference room for?

— Well — he said, a mischievous look coming over his face — Not exactly. I thought I heard someone crying as I was coming down the hallway, but wanted to give myself… What do you call it… Plausible deniability?

Cassie laughed, and walked out of the room behind him.

They sat in the small coffee bar in the employee canteen for a while. It was the first one-on-one conversation she’d remembered having with him, at least for an extended period of time. She was a little nervous about it at first, but found herself becoming more and more comfortable in Toto’s presence, to the point of eventually telling him about her relationship woes. Hearing about Callum’s behavior horrified him. 

— I know I am not what you would call a relationship expert, but I think you definitely need to end it with him. Change the locks to your flat, block his number, everything. And please, take a day off if you need to get it all sorted out — he said. He also mentioned some resources that the HR department kept on file that could help if things escalated.

Luckily, things did not escalate, and she broke things off with Callum that night. She did take Toto’s offer of a day off to sort things out, including changing the locks. One positive thing did come of it, though — even though Toto was technically her boss’ boss, he’d become something of a friend to Cassie, always making it a point to say hello and chat with her whenever he was onsite at the company’s Brackley headquarters. They started getting coffee regularly, too. Thankfully, she never had to talk about anything so dire as Callum again.

— Stupid Callum — she said, to no one in particular. The walls of her flat had no response for her. 

“Great, now I’m talking to myself”, she thought. “Maybe I should just get a cat instead. It would certainly be easier”.

She rolled over and set her alarm on her phone for the next morning — 11am. It was Sunday, and she felt like she’d need a bit of a lie-in, especially after having so much wine. 

Just before she fell asleep, Cassie opened the Notes app on her phone and made herself a reminder.

“Look into the IVF process/doctors in Oxford”.

[holyhomo]

i think previous anon meant ‘user’ as in ‘reader’, and are asking about how they interact with the characters + their past :)

Ah I thought so already! Well the MC character is of course meant to be fully insertable, however I will admit that I should’ve made some changes to the MC’s given background as I did cut myself in the fingers there to be honest!

But that’s mainly because there is a ‘canon’ MC and yet I didn’t put some hard facts of theirs into the story at points I should have.

From very early on I’ve been debating whether or not to make the reader an actual character. Or better said, to reveal the canon character that is the protag.

As you probably have noticed, from the very get go I have not once used something like Y/N or ‘insert your skin tone’ or anything like that.

Mainly because it takes me out of the story. So I saw it as a challenge to write around it.

But yeah highly debating whether or not to reveal and start calling the protag by her canon name and reveal more about her background in the story itself besides here.

Please let me know what you think!

That all said, who is the ‘canon’ MC?

Well:

The ‘canon’ MC’s name is Fran (Francine) ‘Parker’.

There is one small problem with Francine due to me not writing things properly in the beginning due to wishing to keep the insert part.

She literally can’t be from any freaking country I imagined as a possibility 😅

Obviously Fran speaks English, so it would make sense that she could be English, however I never made the reader comment on living back in England or any other character.

She’s stated to not speak: French, German or Spanish, so any countries in Europe speaking one of those languages also doesn’t really check out 😅

She is stated to be from Europe, living in a city approximately a 6 hour drive away from Ylva’s apartment in Paris. 😅

I fricked up a lil as you can see.

So then if I were to have to choose for her to have come from a country when I inevitably rewrite things, it would probably be from England. Since everyone reading this story has some level of English skill. (With a shout out to my Spanish reader who uses a translator!)

Okay, with all this out of the way, let’s talk about who Fran is!

Francine (Fran) Parker, is a 24 year old lesbian from ??? who was abandoned by her birth parents at a park and grew up in foster care with not one, but two failed adoptions. She eventually aged out of the system but was able to get affordable housing as long as she had a job from the government.

Which is how Fran started working at the convenience store! She was always a bit of a night owl who didn’t do much besides work and entertain herself afterwards. She had no real social life due to the hours she worked but also didn’t have much of an interest due to having some big issues regarding bonding with people due to her upbringing.

She finished secondary education, but didn’t pursue anything after that, so she could just work and get an income and housing, as she had no one to financially support her otherwise.

She wasn’t thriving, but she was surviving and that was good enough for her. She just took every day as is, not looking at the further into the future than her next pay day.

Sure deep down she wanted to be a mom and have a home with a white fence and a loving doting wife, but she didn’t really see it happening.

Kinda a spoiler incoming as I am addressing this question pretty soon:

The whole reason she’s as calm as she is about the whole kidnapping situation is actually really sad. She fell for Ylva because in her whole life, no one, absolutely no one, but Ylva went through such extremes just to be with her. Her parents abandoned her as a baby at a random park, not one, but two adoptions failed and she went from one to the other foster home.

And then suddenly her super hot customer she was lusting after kidnaps her because she wants to be with her that badly.

So Fran just ran with it, because that’s also Fran. She takes every day as is.

She’s also shown to be incredibly maternal due to not only her lack of a maternal figure, but also often being one of the older and more responsible kids in the homes she lived.

She’s responsible in general actually. While she absolutely had months were dinner was cup noodles, she can actually cook quite well and is amazing at budgeting (not that she has to anymore).

She’s also not someone to just back down unless she realizes not doing so might get her or someone else harmed.

Fran’s Netflix obsession has also been mentioned before, but besides joking references I made of absolutely unhinged scenes of multiple different series such as Pretty little liars and Riverdale which she watched with Oline and Leslie and watching Adam Sandler movies with Ylva, she actually just watches whatever. Though a good documentary or feel good show like renovations or cooking, are always appreciated by her.

Here's Fran's pic! Also btw my IRL name isn't actually Fran. I just picked it because someone once mentioned calling me Holy or Homo or something felt awkward. I like Holyhomo though lol.