#prepared to take another knock for the short gain!

[suterbuyout2024]

forgot about my dean/same as cash thoughts but now it's come up on my spotify wrapped and i'm. fucking unwell

[fadingdaggerr]

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

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

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

as you ever were

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: request above | 8k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s up?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I said you ain’t gotta do anyth-”

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

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

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

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

Their plan was formed in a single glance.

—☽—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Melissa.”

What… interesting brush strokes.

“Melissa Ann, so help me.”

She turns back, “yes, Barb?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And what’s that good authority?”

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

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

Conclusion: Barb’s nuts.

—☽—

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

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

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

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

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

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

To AVA ♔ : you’re not slick

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

From AVA ♔ : get up in that cannoli

To AVA ♔ : speaking privileges revoked until further notice

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe.”

—☽—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Would they even notice?”

“These IPA-enjoyers? Definitely, unfortunately.”

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

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

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

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

“What?” Barbara responds with faux surprise.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t ha-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—☽—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How long you giving her the silent treatment?”

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

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

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

—☽—

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

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

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

“I do. Now, what do you want?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

From Melissa: How busy are you today?

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

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

To Melissa: should i be worried?

From Melissa: Do you trust me?

To Melissa: you know i do

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t know that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She cared now. She cared because you did.

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

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

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

feedback appreciated as always <3

[the-possum-writes]

could you do a detailed smut/fluff with adult!Finn after reader has been away on an adventure?

Long time no see 🔞

❥Character: Finn Mertens

❥Tags: NS/FW, gender neutral reader, private parts aren't specified, Face sitting, Oral, Established Relationship, Fluff, Vanilla, No beta,

❥Synopsis: Coming back to Finn after spending months climbing through snow covered mountains. As much as you love traveling, you love him even more.

❥Wordcount: 2400

❥Taglist: @watchingfromthefloorboards @foxpearlwilder

With the treefrort being no taller than a sapling it made it harder to find Finn's mobile home with how much he loves to move around without telling you, but the again, you can't say no to a challenge. 

The air is humid, and the sky grows gloomier as clouds block off the day's final rays of sunlight. The trinkets on your backpack clink together as you hike uphill toward the parked metallic trailer, where the candy horses are already preparing for sleep; any doubts about no one being home are thrown out the window when orange light shines behind the solitary door. A single knock is made while speaking clearly. "Sir Mertens, we've come to discuss your expired warranty," you say as solemnly as you can.

Footsteps approach you as a muffled voice talks from inside the trailer. "A warranty? But I paid choose goose years ago." When the door finally opened, Finn was shocked to see you instead of some unscrupulous lawyer. Even in this temperature, he is dressed in just a pair of faded gray tank top and a pair of denim shorts. He is just as you remember, tall, chubby, but neither too skinny nor excessively jacked up, and his blond beard matches the blond hairs on his head that aren't covered by his customary bear hat. However, he appears to be immune to the autumn season since when he greeted you with a bear hug, you felt firsthand how naturally warm he truly is, with his body heat surrounding you even through the layer of clothes you dressed yourself for travels.

After a minute of hugging you, he laughs in your ear and releases you. "I should've known better; lawyers wouldn't bother trekking up this steep hill just to charge me with a stupid warrant."

"You obviously never met a lawyer then, they're more relentless than a honey badger with a grudge." you point out. This gained another laugh from Finn, "Come inside! you look like you've fought one yourself."

And he wasn't lying, expeditions didn't really leave you looking fresh like a cabbage.

As you step inside his cozy trailer you soon realize why Finn was dressed in light clothes, it's just as warm as he is with the orange lights coming from a heater in the corner of the main area that looks like a living room, a few more looks around the place hold the trademarks of a single occupant, empty pizza boxes stacked together in the trash bin, clean but unfolded laundry basket out in the open and countless trinkets, weapons and treasures mounted on every inch of the walls. You drop your backpack to the carpeted floor as you take in the details of the treasures, some look familiar to you while others are completely brand new. You make a mental note to ask about them later for now you only have one thing in mind as you remove your coat.

"I'mma hog the shower bit." you affirm, not really asking for permission but you do toss in a suggestion for good measure. "You could use one too, I may look the part but you smell more like a badger than me." 

Finn scoffs at your jab until he caught a whiff of himself and agreed non verbally. The last thing you saw before closing the door to the bathroom was Finn grabbing two towels from the cupboard but not a pair of new clothes considering the basket was right there, it sent a shiver down your spine and settled in your stomach, but you choose to ignore it for now as you get your priorities straight.

The sigh you release when the warm water crashed on your body could easily be confused for something pornographic, but considering the rough terrain you've traveled through and the rough weather outside it's no brainier you'd feel so satisfied with something as mundane as a hot shower. Your hands are combing through the knots in your hair when you heard Finn follow you into the shower, you step aside to allow him some room under the shower head as he shakes his head like a dog. "Can you pass me the shampoo? it's on the sink." he asks, eyes closed as he lavishes in the hot water just like you did earlier. You poke your head out of the shower curtain to retrieve the bottle on the ledge of the sink, almost laughing your ass off when you read it's one of those '13 in one for men' brand. "For real? why not have a shampoo and conditioner like Jake did?" you snort.

"Hey, I'm a busy guy. Why waste my time with a ton of bottles if one has it covered?" is his defense, but you comply nevertheless as you squeeze the shampoo over his open palm as he washes his rowdy blond locks with it, you can't help but feel a twinge of jealously, Finn could use car shampoo and his hair would still look majestic and soft. Good genes i suppose. Your eyes went to the single hand washing his hair with his other shoulder leading to a scarred stump you've seen replaced with a multitude of weapons and robotic prosthetics but now it's just as nude as the rest of him. He helps you out with your own hair, scrubbing your back and even cleaning behind your ears like a cat grooming it's partner, and yet you allow him, let him satiate his touch starved need with these caresses on your body that don't necessarily lead to anything promiscuous under the shower head but knowing the two of you it's just a matter of time. He's the first to walk out of the bathroom, handing you your towel as he dries out his long hair in his bedroom. While you follow behind his steps it's like walking in on an undisturbed nymph bathing in a pond during golden hour, with the orange light casting striking shadows and highlights over every noteworthy angle on his body, from his sturdy thighs to his firm shoulders and lastly his prominent ass, it's like you're hypnotized when you slowly walk up to him to wrap your arms around his midriff and press your exposed body to his. "So, what did you bring me from your trip?" Finn asks softly while lowering his hand to meet with yours, caressing your scarred knuckles with his large thumb.

"Since when am i obligated to bring you stuff from my trips? there's not exactly any souvenir shops on top of freezing mountains." you jest, resting the side of your head against his back as your other hand trails up and down his hairy navel, feeling his muscles tense down south.

"You always bring me something," he snorts, "Either way, I'm glad you came back safely."

Finn tosses the wet towel elsewhere as he turns around to face you, expediently but suddenly smashing his lips against yours with a fervor you've only witnessed when he's fighting monster taller than himself, he doesn't leave any spot of your mouth untouched with drooling dripping from the corner of your mouth as you caress his tongue with your own in a cacophony of grunts and gasps that escape past your hot breaths. Finn drops himself back into the edge of his bed and brings you along with him with the only thing keeping you above him being your knee in between his parted legs, if his body is naturally warm like a radiator then the growing length nestled in his loins is overbearingly hot, you raise your knee to tease more of him in an attempt to seek more of the noises that were getting caught in his throat. Seeking more from him, you quit the teasing and get down to your knees, kissing the interior of his firm thighs as you make way to the bulbous pink tip eagerly twitching in your direction. You place one smooch on Finn's tip, before placing another, and another until you take his entire gland past your chapped lips, humidifying them with the droplets of precum slipping through his head as you take more of him with a needy groan.

Finn fidgets a bit in his spot, you raising your view to see him lovingly staring back at you through his gorgeous blonde eyelashes, compelling you to take more of him as you keep eye contact so the memory of you stuffing your mouth with his cock becomes engraved in every cell in his brain. Finn's mouth opens up ever so slightly to expel sighs, grunts and whines every time you bob your head up and down, focusing on the way your tongue swirls around his tip like a lollipop. He's so painfully close it has you aching for him more than all those nights you spent alone on snowy terrain, so you removed yourself from his cock with a final slurp and an audible pop, leaving behind a mess of saliva dripping down your tongue. "...ah, ah, not yet." you insist, ignoring your pained knees as you stand up in front of Finn, softly pushing him on his back as you climb him like a tree.

Almost as if he read your mind, Finn grabbed hold of you with a single hand. "Come here," he pulls your hips to his face, stuffing his mouth with everything you could offer to him. You gasp in bewilderment as Finn takes in as much as he can in his own mouth, sucking, nibbling and letting his tongue run wild all over you as your body instinctively jerks back and forth while tugging on his blonde hair. The action has Finn growling from under you, with his own hips jutting forward even though there's nothing to rut against, Finn has learned to become a patient man when it comes to his urges but it's like the build up from months without any lewd contact finally went to his head and has him tapping into a lustful state. And boy, you're all in for it. You remove yourself from Finn's face, ushering the most basic english through needy pants. "Need you inside, now."

This has Finn tossing you to your side, keeping you in place as he dips his head in between the crook of your neck and shoulder to lick and bite to his pleasure. He guides his fingertips to the opening of your mouth, letting him wet his digits with the excessive saliva pooled in your tongue as you got his fingers nice and wet. It's in your best interest after all. "That's it babe, i need 'em nice and slick, I want you to take me... all of me..." he whispers in your shoulder. After he's satisfied with the copious amount of drool he guides them to your already wet opening (thanks to his own saliva from earlier) and slips in one finger after another, poking and prodding inside you as he stretches you out a bit. His touch has every nerve in your your legs twitching, growing accustomed to the isolation and lack of his touch after all this time has you whimpering like it's your first time with him, and Finn dwells in this. "Missed me after all huh? or did you miss my cock?" Finn replaces his fingers for his hot rob, rubbing the tip over your entrance in a teasing manner just like when you rubbed your knee against him.

"Everything. I missed everything about you Finn-" you confess absolutely breathless, taking his mouth for another kiss as his slips himself inside you, with both of your grunting in unison.

"I missed you to," is the last time you hear him speak in a soft tone. "...Won't keep you waiting." Finn's voice struggles to sound coherent as he secures his arm around your midriff as he drills into you from behind, already starting with a rough pace as he keep true to his word like the knight he is. Your cries of ecstasy combine with his own mix of grunts and growls, even biting into your shoulder to add more marks to the growing collection on your skin. Finn didn't stop his onslaught on your for a second, not when he switched your positions and laid you on your back as he raised your legs over his shoulder to fuck deeper into your wanton body, taking in all of his rough biting that you returned with long scratches on his already scarred back, the angle not only allow for deeper thrusts but it also gave you a beautiful view of his gorgeous body. Just like the treasure mounted on his wall, some of his scars were familiar while there were new ones to the collection, one of them being the unfinished tattoo decorated over his beefy hairy chest, you run your hands over his torso, feeling the muscle underneath flex with every movement Finn provides both for your pleasure and his love for you. It's these touches of yours that has Finn slow down from his heated session against your lower regions to dwell a bit in the feelings that have you two in this situation in the first place, his thrusts become slow and shallow, taking the time to release his hold on your thigh to grab your hand and kiss your knuckles which although were scarred and calloused they felt soft against Finn's lips.

The moment is tender in it's own right, and yet it doesn't fail to have you craving for this silly man all over again. You nudge him with the sole of your foot, silently prompting him to continue.

Finn resumed his onslaught into your warm insides but with more adoring looks and complements that remind you that you're also worthy of his love and attention. "You're taking me so good... No one else can rile me up like this..." Finn calls out your name multiple times, feeling himself near the edge as his hips loose rhythm in favor of faster and harder pelvic thrusts that feel like he's straight up rearranging your guts.

"Finn, Finn please...please..." you find yourself begging, almost teary eyed.

Finn complies and smooches you one last time, driving you to that sweet sweet liberation that has you aching your back and wrapping your legs around Finn's waist, meanwhile he releases a combination of desperate whimpers and grunts as he empties a vast amount of pent up come inside your tight little hole that rushes out from around him and leaks into his bed sheets. The blow up has Finn crashing down on you, needing to tap him in the arm to remind him he's crushing you.

"My bad." he rolls sideways but not without pulling your against him, as he closes his eyes to take in the feeling of you body against his no matter how sweaty the two of you are.

You in return, appreciate his peaceful face from up close. To the scar on his cheek from the beard scattered over his lower jaw, he's marvelous, not to mention when he finally opens his eyes to look at you with those glistening pools of blue. "Like what you see?" he jokes, smiling at you despite the few missing teeth.

"Very much," you place a kiss on his nose, watching him scrunch it a bit.

"Well, if you stay for the weekend i can make it worth your time before you go back to mountain climbing." he states, which has you reconsidering.

"Hmm, actually i think I'll take an indefinite hiatus from traveling. Or atleast until i can get you something better than this dinosaur tooth i brought you." you accidentally slip up which has Finn sitting up with a knowing laugh of victory.

"Hah! I knew you brought me something!"

[amuromi]

★ ₊ ⊹ ⋆˙ ┈ 𝐈𝐄𝐈𝐑𝐈 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐊𝐎 X ᶠ!ᴿᴱᴬᴰᴱᴿ

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 ┈ 5.0k

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐀!𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ┈ I think it’s fun that Gege said Shoko cheated her way into her doctor’s license.

✮ 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 & 𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓!! ✮

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 ┈ NSFW! unestablished relationship (fwb-ish), pet names (baby), sleepy sex, oral (f!receiving), fingering

The buzzing of fluorescents and the whirring of an overworked laptop fill the frigid air of the examination room. Everything is cold, sterile. Severe chrome and polished tile void of anything that might disrupt the uniformity of it all. Not a scratch on the metal tables or a chip in the pale blue tiling. Even the light is carved into strict form, beams of glaring light bearing down from the ceilings in rings of blinding white. Glass jars and plastic boxes line the counters and the only break from the monotony is the staggered dripping of the leaky faucet but even that has gained an almost rhythmic pattern after listening to it for so long. The truest break from the carefully curated environment is Shoko. 

She interrupts the room like a flower blooming in a desert, something lovely standing alone in a featureless wasteland. She’s sitting too close to her laptop screen, bluish light carving out the contours of her face in harsh monotones. The shadows beneath her eyes stand out, deep bruises staining her pale skin. A cigarette sits between her lips, unlit and stained pinkish at the filter from her lip tint. The same color is printed on the straw of her drink that sits precariously close to her computer. It’s old, not worth saving if it gets doused in whatever caffeine-laden drink she’s sipping, but it would surely ruin her night. She hasn’t saved anything in awhile and you’ve been watching her for the better part of an hour according to the steady ticking of the clock mounted on the wall. It’s creeping close to midnight and your body is starting to ache from being perched at the edge of the examination table for so long. 

An arrhythmic clicking disrupts the metronome of the silence; the clock, the sink, as Shoko pauses in her scrolling to finally type something out. She’s been hunched over this essay for longer than you’ve been watching her, reading and rereading the same lines of text as if she was worried she’d accidentally added a paragraph about the lifecycle of a goldfish into her lengthy thesis about human anatomy. It was something she was well versed in given her medical inclination. It was what best suited her as a reverse cursed technique user. So few existed in the Tokyo branch of Jujutsu Tech and even if Shoko wasn’t going through the exact proceedings to achieve her doctorate, she was meticulous about the classes and examinations she needed to take. Something about nepotism and forgery had gotten her foot in the door and now she was two years into her higher education and only a few months short of the national exam. There was no doubt in your mind that she’d pass with flying colors so it made it all the more frustrating that she was ignoring you in service of her exam preparations.

It had been three days since you’d last seen Shoko and at least twenty-four hours since she’d so much as sent you a text. It was blind desperation that led you here after another call went unanswered for the third time today. She was exactly where you’d expected. There was no worry of infidelity, yet it still felt strange to be so thoroughly ignored. She was a busy woman but hearing her answering machine drone at you for the third time had knocked something gnawingly desperate loose in your head. So here you sat, like a dog waiting for a treat, watching her work on an essay. The edge of the table was bruising the back of your thighs and your back aches from keeping such a rigid posture. All this and she’d barely even glanced up at you when the door opened. Your eyes slip away from her towards her drink. 

There’s a feline urge to knock it over because surely that would get her attention. It would disrupt her environment to suddenly have her drink dripping off the edge of the table, but then she’d probably be annoyed with you, and you’d surely have to clean up the mess yourself. The thought of sticky hands and cold tile digging into your knees kept your hand from tipping as you reached over to grab the can. The straw was a silly quirk likely borne of her oral fixation–the same reason she’d kept a cigarette in her mouth this whole time–but it fit nicely between your lips, and you could feel the tacky spot where her lips had been as you left your own pink print on the straw. It was as close as you’d gotten to kissing her in a long time. 

She’d call you spoiled if she could read your mind, and you’re glad she can’t because you likely would’ve been sent away the moment you’d poked your head in the room looking to seduce her away from her work. You’d gone through extra effort to look nice before coming to see her. Your hair was styled and your makeup done, clothes smoothed of any wrinkles and in the colors she said you looked nicest in. Desperation oozed from you in thick waves and Shoko still couldn’t spare you a passing glance. The clock ticked by another minute. It had been your hope to get her out of her cold little cell before midnight but that plan was crumbling quicker with each passing moment. She’s gone back to scrolling, fingers stroking against the touch pad. It makes your legs shift, thighs squeezing at all the thoughts her endless scrolling conjured. 

It’s seventeen minutes past midnight by the time Shoko sits back in her seat, her chair squeaking at the sudden shift in weight. She stretches her arms and her shirt rides up the slightest bit. Just under the raised hem you can see a slash of skin and you have to swallow a mouthful of spit. She groans as her back cracks and you cross your legs. The break is fleeting because she goes back to typing, but it seems more purposeful. From the angle you’re at, perched next to her laptop because you thought that would be the easiest way to get her attention, you can’t clearly make out the size twelve font, but you like to imagine that every word is articulate and insightful; a perfect thesis paper. And even if it isn’t, she’s made it this far without going through the proper channels. It wouldn’t be so hard to forge her credentials to get her into the exam. She could pass it even without all the expected years of education. She was far more intimate with anatomy, both human and otherwise, than anyone her age had any right to be. It was your hope that she’d come out of her academic stupor to reacquaint herself with your anatomy. Sooner rather than later. But you wouldn’t pout and you wouldn’t whine because she didn’t like that. Gojo is the only one she’ll tolerate acting like that, and their bond is different than what you have with her. 

Girlfriend is far too charitable though you’d like to have such a formal label. You’re a girl that’s a friend at best. One she has wrapped around her pretty little finger. She starts scrolling again. You take another longing sip of her drink. It’s gone flat and tastes like cough syrup but you can feel the buzz of caffeine starting up just from those few sips. Whatever is in the can is going to leave you wired and you hate to think Shoko’s been downing energy drinks in lieu of sleeping. A thousand questions perch at the tip of your tongue; are you almost done, when was the last time you slept? You’d like to ask but it would disturb the clinical symphony of the room and you’d hate to shatter her concentration and further prolong your wait. So you sit in obedient silence wondering why you’ve bothered to wait this long in the first place. 

Shoko hasn’t so much as spared you a glance since her first brief look when you came tip toeing in. Her gaze remains glued on the screen of her laptop, a grayish square reflected bright in her brown eyes. Her lashes flicker as she reads through the lines of text and you try to find something else to focus on. Something that isn’t Shoko’s big brown eyes, or that pretty little mole high on her cheek, or her graceful fingers skating over the keyboard. Instead you focus your eyes on your nails. Freshly done in a purple so pale it’s almost white; the same color you heard Shoko compliment Utahime on a few weeks ago. It’s pretty but as you watch the light dance off the pastel polish, you realize it’s unlikely that Shoko will even notice. 

Another drop of water hits the sink basin and you consider getting up to leave. Shoko hasn’t acknowledged your existence in her space as a positive or negative and the neutrality of her ignorance is starting to grate on your pride. Slowly, you start to descend from the high top table, but before your feet can hit the ground a hand is catching your thigh, keeping you perched on the edge of the table. Shoko doesn’t look up from the screen but her hand is now resting imploringly on your leg. She can’t be bothered to look at you or tell you not to go but her touch will have to be enough. You readjust yourself, scooting back onto the hightop. Her hand brushes mindlessly over your skin, drifting high enough that her fingers drift under the hem of your skirt. The same skirt you’d bought on her recommendation during a trip to the mall. 

“Almost done,” she mumbled so low that you would’ve missed it if you weren’t already staring at her. Her lips barely part around the words and she sounds utterly exhausted. Shoko always seems to have everything together despite always looking like she’s fighting to stay conscious with every blink. Her eyes have gone glossy as though she isn’t paying attention to anything in front of her but her hands don’t stop. Not where she’s scrolling through her essay and not where she’s thumbing circles against your thigh. A few more swipes of her finger and she reaches the final line of the document. Her hand leaves your leg long enough to hit save and close her laptop. The chair squeaks beneath her weight as she finally leans away from the desk, tired eyes pointed towards the ceiling. White light dances across her dark gaze before her lashes flutter closed with a sigh. She gives your leg a gentle pat before pushing away from the desk with a discordant scrape of her chair. It interrupts the monotony that had settled over the room but the disturbance is welcome as Shoko goes about packing up her things. She shoulders her bag and holds out her hand to help you down from the table. 

“Let’s go,” she hums, brushing her thumb across the back of your hand as she leads you out of the examination room. The halls of the school are dimmed and quiet so late into the evening. The sound of your footfalls echo through the emptiness, preceding your arrival just enough for Ijichi to parse who’s approaching. The door to his office is open, spilling white light into the darkness and he cuts through the glowing haze like a towering tree, a willowy silhouette against the bright light. 

“Done for the night?” He asks. Shoko hums, prompting Ijichi to tidy up his office. The jingling of his keys leads the way outside. It isn’t so late that the trains have stopped running but Shoko seems close to falling asleep where she stands and she’d likely only be made more irritable after commuting home on public transit. Ijichi is a blessed pillar of Jujutsu Tech staff, always willing to act as chauffeur for the most minor trips. He knows the way to Shoko’s apartment without the assistance of a GPS and he doesn’t seem to spare a thought to consider if you want to be ferried back to your own apartment. You don’t but an embarrassed flush blooms warm across your cheeks as you realize no one takes any time to consider that you won’t always be where Shoko is anymore. Truthfully, you could’ve gone home hours ago, but you stayed to keep Shoko company, clinging to her like a puppy. 

“Here we are,” Ijichi says as he pulls up in front of Shoko’s building. “Do you need any further assistance?” It’s so formal, though that’s just how Ijichi is when he’s on the clock. You’ve only seen him lose his staunch manners once when Gojo insisted all of you go out to celebrate one thing or another. Instead of poking fun at his civility you thank him for the ride and usher Shoko out of the car. Ijichi waits until you’re inside the building before pulling off. 

In the comfort of her own home, Shoko seems to be a bit renewed. The fatigue still lingers in the way her movements lack the usual precision that must come with the medical training. A hair’s breadth of error in her movement might spell disaster in an examination room but here, she’s free to be less exact. She takes her shoes off at the door and kicks them to the side rather than lining them up neatly against the wall. Her bag is dropped on the couch, nearly spilling over with how she tossed it. There’s a laziness that belies her exhaustion but it seems like the last dregs of her energy drink are still simmering in her system as she deposits you next to her bag, pushing you to sit with a hand on your shoulder before disappearing into the kitchen. 

When she returns, she sets a plate of fruit on the coffee table before padding off to the balcony. No matter how tired, Shoko has never been one to smoke indoors. The scent of the cigarettes might linger in her hair and clothes but her apartment always smells like vanilla and jasmine, courtesy of her favorite scented candles. She leaves the sliding door half open as she leans against the bannister and you decide that she deserves this small moment of peace. Though you haven’t really done much to disturb her in the last hour or so, you suspect she could use a moment of solitude to decompress from the stresses and strains of academia. Instead of following her past the billowing curtains you busy yourself with the tray of fruit, wetting your fingers with pineapple and watermelon. 

Shoko joins you after a while and you nearly melt as she sits close beside you, wiping away a smear of juice at the corner of your mouth. Your thanks gets caught in your throat as she pops her thumb between her lips. If she takes note of your shock, Shoko doesn’t mention it. Instead she turns on some mind numbing period piece and sags into the couch. Exhaustion catches up with her quickly and she falls asleep somewhere at the midpoint of the film, lips parted around kittenish snores. She’s easy enough to carry on account of your combat training. She curls up in your arms, shifting until her nose is pressed against your neck and you stifle a yelp at how cold she is. She’s half lucid as you set her at the foot of the bed, moving her limbs with wooden fluidity as you strip her out of her clothes before tucking her in. There’s just enough consciousness left in her to remind you to come to bed when the movie is over. You’re not particularly interested enough to see how it ends but you do go through the motions of winding down for the night as the movie plays softly in the background. The dishes are washed and the doors and windows locked. By the time you’re yawning yourself the credits are rolling. 

Shoko rouses the moment you slip beneath the sheets, rolling over to wrap herself around you. Her breath is slow and steady against your neck as she tucks her nose behind your ear and sighs. That’s all you expect from her, arm tossed loosely over your waist as she falls back to sleep, but then her hand begins to move. Subtle at first as she traces her fingertips over your stomach through your shirt, then more purposeful as she dips beneath the fabric to tease at your bare skin. Her hand trails higher, taking your shirt with it until it’s crumpled beneath your chin, your breasts bared to the cool air of her bedroom. Her eyes are half lidded and dark in the dim ambiance, lit only by the grayish glow filtering through the curtains. It highlights the broadest strokes of her face as she lazily climbs over you, blanket pooling around her hips as she settles in your lap. The curve of her cheekbones and slope of her nose all glow silver as her hair slips over her shoulders in a tousled waterfall. Her hands have just the slightest chill as she traces her hands up the ladder of your ribs to cup your chest in her palms. Your nipples perk against the softness of her skin, pressing into the gentle touch as she traces her thumbs over the stiffening buds. 

“You should sleep,” you tell her, hand stroking over the length of her arm. 

“I will,” she promises, “after.” She’s been asleep for at least an hour and it showed in her voice, sultry and graveled as she leaned down to press hot kisses over your neck. Her tongue finds the shape of your collarbone, tracing the sloping imprint before slipping lower to wrap her lips around your nipple. 

“I wanted to do this the moment you walked into the exam room.” She confesses. Her words ghost breathy and ticklish across your skin as she slinks lower, leaving wet imprints of her lips against your stomach. She noses against the waistband of your pants, taking her time to pull them down. With each newly exposed inch she presses a kiss against your skin, stopping only to leave a more lasting mark. Your pants are shucked to the floor as Shoko replaces the lost warmth with her body laid between your legs. Her teeth and tongue leave marks against the soft skin of your thighs as she works her way back up your body. She leaves a burning kiss beneath your navel, then higher and higher until her lips are sealing over yours. 

Her legs cage one of yours as she steals the breath from your lungs, tongue dancing over yours as she lowers her hips with purpose. With a shift of her weight, Shoko presses her thigh flush between your legs and your hips move to meet her. Each roll of your hips is like the strike of a flint that sparks but refuses to catch fire. Shoko isn’t much better as she whines pitifully, rocking hard against you with little relief. The sound of your desperate mewls turns to groans of frustration, both of you too desperate for the full shocks of pleasure to stop long enough to shed the rest of your clothes. Shoko decides on a compromise.  

“Here,” Shoko pants, detangling one of your fists from the wrinkled sheets to slide it beneath the waistband of her pants. The warmth is immediate as you slip your fingers lower until they’re enveloped in the wet heat that’s gathered between her legs. Her thigh presses harder against your pussy, pace stuttering as you circle your fingers over her clit. It’s wet and clumsy as she grinds against your fingers. Her whole body trembles as she sits up to toss aside her shirt, hands immediately cupping her chest. Her breasts spill between her fingers as she pinches at her nipples. Between her soft exhales she whines something that sounds like “inside.” Her eyes are half lidded, lashes fluttering as her eyes roll back the second your fingers slip inside her. 

“That feel good, baby?” You ask, gripping her waist as she rides your fingers. She’s nodding, whining a thick deluge of praise between each shallow breath. 

“Feels so good,” she sighs. Her fingers that are usually so dexterous suddenly feel clumsy as she brushes her fingertips over the seam of your lips, chuffing out a soft laugh when your mouth opens to taste her skin. There’s the lingering taste of the fruit she ate earlier spreading sweetly over your tongue as you bit softly at her fingers. And when she pulls away a mess of drool dribbles down your chin and drips onto your chest as she circles her wet fingers over her nipple, hips stuttering as she shivers from the air caressing her wet skin. You can feel the goosebumps raising as you thumb at her trembling stomach, feeling the muscles shift beneath her skin as she fucks herself on your fingers. Her clit twitches under the pad of your thumb as you curve your fingers inside her. She comes with a long whine, head tossed back as she grinds hard against your hand. Her pants are soaked through when you pull your hand out, patting her pussy through the sodden fabric. Shoko shrinks away from the feeling, falling back to the mattress with a satisfied huff. 

In the muted light you can’t see the soft flush you know is coloring her cheeks, but she looks beautiful all the same. Hair fanned out around her head and stuck to the sheen of sweat shining on her forehead. Her lips are glossy and parted as she tries to catch her breath. You pat her hip with your wet hand, unbothered by the mess. 

“You done?” Shoko shakes her head and rolls onto her back, legs untwining from yours as she moves to shove her pants down her thighs. Her panties are so soaked they’re nearly transparent, sticking to every contour of her pussy. Shoko cringes at the slick sound it makes as she peels off her underwear, kicking them to the edge of the bed. 

“You too.” She’s shaky as she pushes herself up to pull down your pants, thumbs hooking into the waistband of your underwear. She gets them halfway down your thighs before her hand is tucking between your legs. She kisses you gently, murmuring “good job, baby,” as she tosses your panties aside. 

“On your back, baby.” She’s regaining some semblance of control as she guides you to lay back against the pillows. The warmth of her body still lingers in the sheets as they brush against your bare skin, but Shoko’s hands are still cold as she maneuvers your body with ease. She can pluck each muscle of your body like a string and she’s always careful of how she moves you. Never stretching too far to strain or pulling so hard it hurts. She straddles one of your legs then lifts the other, wrapping it around her hips until she can get close enough to meet you in the middle.  

Shoko pauses for a moment and you try to catch your breath, taking in the feeling of her cunt pressed against yours. Then, the air conditioning kicks back on with a gust of glacial air and Shoko shivers. The short burst of a movement drags her swollen clit against yours and you keen, falling flat on your back and bucking to recreate the feeling. It’s an awkward dance at first; she’s hot and wet against you, arousal dripping down your thighs to stain the sheets, but you need her just there and she’s rushing to meet you halfway. After another moment of erratic pleasure Shoko leans back on one arm and reaches for your leg with the other. She lifts it off her waist, pulling it over her shoulder until you can feel her shortened breaths ghosting across your skin. 

Her swollen lips are whispering frantic words against your ankle that you can’t decipher, mind too lost in ecstasy to register anything past the feeling of her pussy kissing yours. Locked in the moment, Shoko pushes herself up to lean more of her weight on you. A wanton moan falls from your lips as she grinds down on you. She rest her hand against your chest, thumbing over your nipple as she fucks you into the mattress. You revel in her lack of control as her praises turn to unintelligible slurs, knowing you were the one to turn her composure to ash. She smacks her hand over yours, strengthening your grip as your hands grasp desperately at her hip. The weight of her flesh spills between your fingers as your nails bite crescent shapes into the plush of her hips. 

“Closer, want you closer.” She pants, falling forward and taking your leg with her. It leaves you utterly exposed to her as she ruts drunkenly against you. The sounds coming from between your bodies is sinful, loud and wet as the slick sound of skin on skin. “Fuck, such a good girl.” Shoko praises and you feel how the words pool low in your stomach, heat gathering at the base of your spine as the sweet words start to tumble from her lips with reckless abandon. 

“Always so good for me, so patient–fuck! Sitting so pretty waiting for me, baby. Thank you for waiting.” Heat gathers between her bodies as she balances on her forearm, letting your leg off her shoulder to join the other knocking around her ribs as she cages you to the bed between her thighs. She has you curled up, only half balance on the bed as she holds your hips off the mattress. 

“Feels so good, m’not gonna last.” She whines. “I’m so close.” She cums hard, all shivers and stuttering breaths as pleasure seizes through her body. She’s shaking yet still desperate as she fucks herself through it, using your body for her own satisfaction. Sweat pastes the two of you together when she finally comes down, body going limp as she falls against your chest. It’s hot and sticky as Shoko nuzzles against your neck, pressing wet kisses against your racing pulse. Your own orgasm was lost somewhere in the fray, simmering just under the surface as Shoko cuddles against your chest. She’s so close that you can feel her heartbeat against yours, the quick fluttering slowing to a steady thump as your hands play in her hair. When her breaths start to shallow you wonder if she’s fallen asleep. It wouldn’t be a surprise. The day was long and exhausting, and she’d already been asleep when you joined her in bed. But after a few more beats of silence, Shoko sits up and reaches towards the nightstand. You expect her to grab the half empty water bottle sitting there but instead she finds a hair tie. There’s a look of sultry determination on her face as she pulls her hair back into a messy bun. 

“Your turn, baby.” Shoko has never been one to leave you high and dry, and she clearly isn’t going to start tonight. You can hear the lethargy dripping from her tone but it doesn’t douse the flames of desire still burning in her eyes. She presses a kiss to your parted lips. One, then another, before working her way down your body. She licks at the marks blooming over your through and the sore peaks of your nipples, down the heaving expanse of your chest to kiss just below your navel before her head settles between your thighs. 

“You don’t have to.” The words are full of worry. Far more concerned with her health than your own pleasure. Shoko clicks her tongue and mumbles something about “want to,” as she pulls your thighs over her shoulders. 

Her eyes trail from the sopping mess between your legs up to your eyes and back down again. Your entire body jumps as she drags the pad of her thumb over your pussy, rubbing at your throbbing bud. Her tongue cleans the mess from her finger before she presses her head between the heat of your thighs. Her tongue spreads your folds as she licks up the length of your slit, gathering the cocktail of your joiner arousal on your tongue. As she flicks at her clit, you whimper, head falling back against the pillows. Your ruined orgasm roars back to life, heat flooding your body as Shoko groans against your cunt. The feeling shoots up your spine as your thighs start to shake. 

The sound of your voice is almost pitiful as you cry out her name, bucking against her face. Shoko lets you, flattening her tongue as you set the pace, desperately chasing your high. You come hard, shuddering under her hands as you curl in on yourself, barely lucid enough to miss catching her cheek with your knee. The hand that isn’t searching for hers dives between your legs, wrist trapped between clenched thighs as you desperately curl your fingers inside yourself. Shoko watches you fuck yourself through it before pulling your hand away to suck your soaked fingers into her mouth. When she’s satisfied that she cleaned the taste of your cum off your fingers, she kisses your palm. 

Shoko looks to be on the cusp of passing out as you slip out from under her. Cleanup is only a few swipes of a damp washcloth. She lets you maneuver her limp body so you can wipe away the sweat and slick, and you’re able to get a few swigs of lukewarm water into her before Shoko is fully checked out. Her last half conscious act is tossing her loose limbs across your naked body to pull you closer. Her skin is damp from your haphazard wipe down but you don’t have it in you to care as she tucks her nose into the curve of your jaw, humming compliments as you both dip between sleep and wakefulness. Shoko is barely coherent enough to form a sentence but she slurs it out anyway before trailing off into a soft snore. A promise to make it up to you in the morning when she’s more properly rested. 

[multifariousqueer]

Don’t be late pt.2

GO READ PT.1 IF YOU HAVENT

A/n: Ahhhh I hope y’all enjoy this as much as I did. Lmk if I should write something else. As always, keep requesting

Warnings: none, miles being nervous, spoilers ig, your dad being a dad

So what was his marvelous plan? He was just gonna swing by his house, web his jacket and shorts, and swing over as fast as he could; the issue with this plan? He would’ve been 3 minutes late and he couldn’t take that. He could text you but your words rang through his head like a bell:

“don’t. be. late."

It was the one thing you asked of him and he couldn’t even do that. Reveal his identity? He didn’t even tell his own parents, let alone yours; forget it. Maybe just go to your window, web the clothes, change on the fire escape, swing down and ring your doorbell? That seemed like the best plan in the moment. So, Miles carried out the act; he was whimsical, quick and still managed to make it the only issue? He was a minute late.

“Where is he?” you mumbled to yourself

Suddenly, you heard a knock at the door and your parents voice:

“Hello, young man. How can I help you?” your parent asked

“Uhm, I am here for, Y/n. We’re dating and I was supposed to meet you” Miles said, nervously.

“Why did I add in the dating part?” Miles questioned in his head

“Oh! Well, hi; I’m Y/n’s mom. Don’t mind (y/d/n dads name), can be a bit mean” your mom answered

“It’s okay. It’s nice to meet you both. I’m Miles” Miles said, his voice still trembling

“Well nice to meet you, Miles! Y/n has told us so much about you, you’re all she talks about” Your mom said

“Mom!” you said

“Hey, Miles. You can set your jacket down in the closet” you said

“Okay” he obliged

Miles began to take off his shoes out of habit when your dad jumped in:

“woah dude, what are you doing?"

“Oh! It’s customary to remove your shoes in my house. It shows you have respect for someones house by not tracking dirt in” Miles informed

“oh. well don’t get too comfortable here, we don’t do that.” Your dad said, sternly

“Yes sir. I’m sorry.” Miles said, feeling embarrassed

“Y/d/n! Don’t be so mean to the boy.” your mom scolded

“He’s the one taking off his shoes and shit.” your dad said.

“Dad!” you started

“It’s okay, y/n. I mean it.” Miles reassured

The rest of the meal and day went well. Miles gave your mom the flowers, he reintroduced himself to your dad and gained a bit of his respect, and he managed to make them both laugh. You thought the meal couldn’t get any better until your dad brought out your favorite game:

“Let’s play Uno"

“Oh yay! I love uno but someone always beats me at it” your mom said looking at you

“Well what can I say? I’m the champ” you said, proudly

“Miles, are you good at Uno?” your dad asked, patting him on the neck

“yeah I’m pretty okay at it. Y/n always beats me tho” he replied with a smirk

“Hey maybe we can team up on her” your dad laughed

“Hey! No fair!” you laughed

“you know we’re kidding, y/n” your mom said before gesturing to Miles and your dad to team up

The cards were dealt and before you knew it, you had been down to your last two cards. Just when you thought you were about to sweep and win again, Miles puts down a +4 which you prepared for but what you weren’t expecting was for your mom and dad to put one down going back to miles who whispered an “I’m sorry” to you and put down another +4.

Your heart dropped in horror; you know were forced to pick up 20 cards. You stared in disbelief while Miles smirked and your parents picked up the cards and slid them over to you. You slammed your hand on the cards and slowly dragged them over to you.

“Hijo de puta” you cursed under your breath

“Hey don’t curse because you got +20’d” Miles laughed with a smug smile

As your entire family was laughing at you, Miles froze. You knew this look all too well because this was the look he gets when his senses go off. You looked in his eyes and followed his gaze to a man in a full black attire with spots, staring at you. Your breath hitched and your family took notice

“Is everything alright, y/n?"

“Mhm” you said, your mouth becoming dry

“I have to go. I am so sorry, something came up with my parents” Miles said

“Oh okay! It was nice having you, feel free to come by anytime” Your mom said as Miles rushed outside, stripping on the way

“What was his deal?” your dad asked

“His parents needed him for something” you lied

“They couldn’t wait until I showed him my rare coin collection?” your dad chuckled

All you could do was laugh and smile at your dad.

“Oh look! It’s spider-man!” your mom exclaimed

You snapped your head in that direction, earning a crack from your neck and you saw Miles getting rocked while the man in black escaped into a portal. You texted Miles:

You: Is everything alright?

Miles: notreally

You: Can I help?

Miles: nosorry

Miles: I’m gonna be gone for a while. This guy is bigger than I thought. In case I don’t come back, Mami; I had a great time and I love you

You: Miles don’t say that you’re gonna come back

You: You always do

You: Miles?

seen

[lonelystczennie]

Just a Collab

Chan x Plus Size Afab!Reader

Summary: It was supposed to just be another collaboration, so why can’t you and Chan seem to get each other out of your mind?

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: Swearing, Suggestive, partially proofread

A/N: Thanks to the lovely @bethanysnow for this request! I rewrote part of this like five times, but I’m posting it now cause otherwise I’m gonna lose my mind staring at it. I’ll use the other ideas in part two(if we want a part 2) idk, it's late and I'm tired.

Masterlist

Requests are open

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Chan likes being prepared for anything, whether that’s rehearsing a song or choreography till he knows it by heart, or just keeping band aids in his bag in case one of the members gets hurt. He knows not everything can be planned, and even the things that can often go awry, so he tries to be ready for any possibility.

What he wasn’t prepared for, however, was you.

When the company had presented the opportunity to work with you on a collaboration, he’d agreed almost immediately, having been familiar with your work for a while, thinking it would just be a fun project. But almost immediately, that had proved to not be the case, though what it was he wasn’t quite sure.

“Okay, Jeongin, can we do one more take, just for security?” Chan asked through the mic into the soundbooth.

“Sure thing, hyung.” The younger member responded just as there was a light knock at the door.

“Am I interrupting?“ You asked quietly as you entered the studio, Chan's face lighting up noticeably at your presence.

“Nah, you're good, we’re just recording some backing vocals.” He said reassuringly, waving you over.

“Hi Noona.” Jeongin called, waving at you through the window.

“Hey, I.N.” You chuckled, waving back to him before he started to record.

You listened fondly as I.N. sang, slowly settling into the chair next to Chan, waiting for your turn in the booth.

“So, how come I haven’t got to sing with you yet?” You asked as they finished, bumping your shoulder against Chan’s playfully, making him let out a short burst of laughter.

“Because I.N.’s got a much better voice than me and I thought you’d sound good together.” He said, ears gaining a noticeable rosy tint as he spoke. “I, uhm, I’m just here as producer this time.”

“You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself, you have an amazing voice.” You said sincerely. “I love hearing you sing.”

“Really?” He asked, casting a sidelong glance at you, surprised by your honesty.

You nodded. “Your songs were actually part of what I used to practice Korean.” You confessed.

“Noo, that’s soo embarrassing.” He whined, covering his increasingly red face.

“For you or me?” You chuckled.

“I don’t know.” He said, laughing weakly.

The two of you were interrupted by another quick knock on the door, your manager peeking in to grab your attention.

“Y/n, you have that interview in five minutes.” He reminded you.

“Crap, I almost forgot.” You said, turning to the two of them apologetically. “I’m sorry, I won’t be long.”

“No worries. We’ll be here.” Chan said easily, smiling softly at you, making you beam as you stood.

“I’ll be back in a bit!” You waved as you followed your manager out.

“Bye, Noona.” Jeongin called as he exited the booth, whipping around as soon as you’d closed the door to face Chan. “Why haven’t you said anything to her yet?”

“What are you on about?” Chan said, feigning ignorance. “You saw us, we talk all the time.”

“I meant how you’re both clearly into each other.” The younger said bluntly, not having the patience to beat around the bush on this topic.

“What?!” Chan spluttered. “No, we’re not!”

“Bullshit.” Jeongin snapped, surprising Chan further. He’d spent the past handful of days in the studio with both of you and had put up with enough lingering glances and the blushy comments to know that you were both in deep. “I’ve seen the way you look at her, and the way she looks at you.” Chan whipped up at that. Jeongin continued. “Anybody with eyes can see that there’s clearly something there between the two of you, why are you pretending there isn’t?”

Chan looked down, letting out a deep sigh. “It doesn’t matter.” He mumbled, feeling his heart slowly sink as he spoke.

“Why?”

“Because, what’s the point?” He said exasperatedly. “It’s a collaboration, it’s a temporary situation, she’s… She’s just gonna leave when it’s over.” The last words came out as a mumble as he glanced away again.

“It doesn’t feel like ‘just a collab’.” Jeongin said. “It feels different.”

Chan paused, unable to argue with him, despite wanting to.

It did feel different, you felt different, to him at least. As soon as you’d met, you’d managed to charm him instantly with your brightness and warmth. You were funny and caring, always managing to find something kind to say about everyone around you, not to mention you were stunning. The moment you’d walked in, it had taken him every ounce of concentration not to openly stare at you. You had this subtle confidence in the way you moved and held yourself that he found utterly alluring. Everything about you seemed attractive to him, the glint in your eyes, the softness in your voice, the plush shape of your hips…

You’d even managed to follow him into his dreams, catching him in his rare few hours of sleep, images so vivid, he could almost believe them to be real. The feeling your warmth surrounding him as he buried his face in the softness of your stomach before trailing lower, his hands gripping tightly onto your thighs as they clamped down around him-

He’d bolted up in his bed, heart racing and breathing unsteadily, unable to go back to sleep the rest of the night.

He shook himself, feeling his ears begin to burn again at the memory.

“I just… I don’t know.” He said uncertainly.

“Just think about it, please?” Jeongin said seriously. “You deserve some happiness too,”

Chan nodded slightly, biting his lip. “Yeah, okay.” He said eventually. “But only if the opportunity presents itself, I’m not gonna just drop that kind of thing on her.”

“Of course.” I.N. responded, just as you re-entered the room.

“Hey, what’d I miss?” You asked lightly, reclaiming your seat next to Chan, much to Jeongin’s amusement.

“Nothing.”

The opportunity ended up presenting itself in the form of dinner with you and guys that same night, since I.N. had so ‘graciously’ invited you over to the dorms to hang out and celebrate the finish of recording for the song.

Chan had been a bit nervous about you meeting all the guys at once, knowing how boisterous and overwhelming they could be sometimes, but you’d settled in almost immediately, laughing easily with Han and Felix, talking about art with Hyunjin, and cooing over pictures of Minho’s cats, though you mostly kept close to Chan.

You hadn’t even realized how late it had become as the two of you were talking until you happen to look around and realize the others had gone to bed, leaving you and Chan alone. You knew you should probably leave, but you were reluctant to do so, wanting to soak up as much time with him as possible. The past weeks of working together, both over video calls and emails, and the last few days in person, had definitely had an impact on you as well, and tonight had only solidified those feelings in your mind, making your looming departure all the more painful.

“You okay?” Chan asked gently, noticing your sudden quietness

“Hmm? Yeah, I’m just getting in my head. Nothing new.” You laughed dismissively.

“You wanna talk about it?” He offered, propping his head up on his hand.

“There’s not that much to talk about really, I’m just kinda feeling… I don’t wanna leave yet.” You admitted quietly. “I’ve had a really great time getting to know you guys, spending time with you.” You glanced at him briefly. “It just feels like it’s moving too fast, you know?”

He nodded, understanding all too well. “When do you leave?” He asked hesitantly.

“In a couple days. I asked for a few days off from schedules, thought I might do some sightseeing around the city, plus I know my friends would kick my ass if I come back without gifts.” You joked, making him laugh.

“Well, if you need a tour guide, I’d gladly help you.” He offered, seeing a chance.

“Really?” You asked surprised. “You’re not too busy?”

“Not with anything that I can’t get out of.” He shrugged.

“You don’t have to do that.” You said, ducking your head in an attempt to hide the flush in your cheeks.

“I want to.” He said, leaning in to catch your gaze again. “I like being with you. I want to spend as much time with you as I can while you’re here.” He said earnestly.

“Really?” You asked, half realizing the way you were both leaning closer as you spoke.

“Yeah, I like you a lot.” He admitted, his eyes flickering to your lips before he could help himself.

“Probably more than I should.”

“Chan.” You breathed.

“Yeah?”

You didn’t answer, smashing your lips to his in a feverish kiss. He let out a muffled sound of relief, hands instantly finding your waist, kneading the soft flesh in his grip as you wound your fingers into his hair, giving a slight tug and earning a low groan from him. He half pulled you onto his lap before you could help him out, swinging a leg across to straddle him as his tongue traced along you bottom lip, asking for entrance into your mouth, which you readily granted.

Eventually, you had to come up for air, chest heaving against his as you took in his disheveled state with hooded eyes.

“So maybe now you have a reason to come back?” He panted, looking up at you.

“I’m booking my next trip tomorrow.” You replied, letting out a shaky laugh as you pulled him back in for another kiss.

[inuiiwonderland]

Hello! This is the same anon that sent the "reader falls for Leona while the other 3rd years fall for him" request and I was wondering if I could request a part 2 in which the reader does eventually give up on courting Leona and ends up falling for one of the other 3rd years only for Leona to finally catch feelings for him when it’s already too late?

A/n: I really wanna apologize for this being really late😓 and also sorry for this being really short and I hope you have a wonderful day!

Leona x male reader

Part 2

-

After weeks and months of attempts to get Leona to notice you. You finally gave up. The young beastmen will never find interest in you even if you try anything else. Which broke your heart and now Ace and deuce have to deal with a crying prefect.

"I did everything but still no Leona in my arms!" You cried out.

"There there….it's best that you move on y/n!" Deuce said as he patted your back to calm you down.

"Maybe you're right….I spent months trying to get him to notice me..so moving on is for the best"

"Hey don't worry. Maybe later you'll find someone who is worthy of your love" you smiled at aces words. You think this is the first time he said something good.

"Thanks"

-

After that lovely conversation with your trouble making friends, you finally were able to move on [with the help of your friends].

And because of that, you started hanging out with some of the other 3rd year's. One particular 3rd year may you add. You didn't notice when you guys have gotten so close but you found most of your days with him. Be it at his dorm, room, or just anywhere with just the two of you.

You also started to notice how insanely attractive he was which made you feel stupid for not noticing earlier. You later started gaining feelings for him which made you really scared to ever tell him about how you feel. 

Not wanting to ruin the friendship you two have, You chose to stay quiet.

Until today….

He decided to take you out for one of his modeling gigs since you always beg him to take you. Now here you two where. In his dressing room talking as he was preparing himself for a photoshoot.

"You look amazing vil!"

"Why thank you"

What you didn't know, was that vil look a little…anxious. Which would be unusual for him if it wasn't that he was planning on confessing his feelings for you in the next 5 minutes.

You heard a knock at the door followed by his assistant telling him that he has 5 minutes left. He quickly finished up and turned to you.

"Ah I have one thing to tell you"

"What is it?" He couldn't help but think how cute you were with the curious look on your face.

"It's been great hanging out with you these past couple weeks. So say….how about a date after my shoot?" And before you could answer another knock was heard again.

"The shoot is starting vil!" 

"Think about it" He said before leaving.

That moment you felt a rush of excitement go through your veins and entire body as you squealed in delight.

You composed yourself before walking out the dressing room to see vil photoshoot.

You definitely said yes for the date that night.

-

A week went by and you and vil were officially dating. You guys were basically known to be the best couple in school grounds. And because of all this attention that has been going around in NRC a certain beastmen has heard the news.

He didn't know what to feel. In fact he shouldn't feel anything because he was never really close to you or even cared about what you did.

But guess after all those past attempts in catching Leona's eye did work. He noticed some of your attempts, but didn't really care. Until after you stopped. He knows he shouldn't really care, but he felt empty without you trying to show off to him.

He never had anyone love or even care for him just like you did. Maybe that one thing Leona regrets losing since now he has to live with the fact that he noticed his feelings for you a little too late. 

-

Again sorry for this being short and I hope you still enjoyed this!

[sybilius]

Okay, I don't think anyone that I've seen so far has written meta on this exact metaphor that's obsessing me in Same as Cash. So there's two layers of story going on here. On the action front, we're seeing (through someone else's eyes) Jenny debate with herself about holding on to her car:

You were still attached to your Civic sedan Although the brakes always needed repair You were headed out to buy some supplies You could smell the threat of rain in the air I can only see the scene second-hand I can only try to understand How a small amount of pressure in the right place Breaks the strongest link in the chain

So that's a pretty concrete story -- Jenny loves her car, but her car is falling apart a little. Then we get the chorus:

In your car with your head in your hands At the far end of the Walmart parking lot Trying not to buckle under the strain

Okay, so Jenny's not doing well! She's carving out time for herself in the car, head in hands, at the parking lot for supplies. Then we get to the verse about the car salesman:

Every single night after prime time Loud enough to hear in your sleep The salesman from the lot half a mile from here Yelling down the hood of his Jeep I'll take anything that the others won't I can see the value where others don't Just a small amount of pressure in the right place Two fingers to the temporal vein

I bolded the text because -- honestly, it feels bold when it's sung, doesn't it? This is where the story makes it clear what Jenny is about, what her raison d'etre is. She wants to take in those who are forsaken, she can see value in them when no one else can. We get another hit of the chorus, and then:

Striking a bargain with the imp in your brain Prepared to take another knock for the short gain But you can ask any veteran running back Eventually your joints complain

Okay, so this was the one I really really wanted to talk about because I think it's maybe some of the most clever wordplay ever, and also one of the most apt pieces of writing about the perils of taking on other's pain as your main response to most problems in life. The "striking a bargain with the imp in your brain" -- it feels like the narrator is aware, that Jenny is making a short-term deal (selling her car) because she's worried about supplies they need.

But there's also the layer on which taking on more strays -- more people, more community, more pain that she doesn't have capacity for -- that's also a short-gain distraction. I don't know how to explain this to people who haven't been there, but other people's pain can be addictive. It can genuinely feel like, okay, listening to your problems for a minute, giving you what you need -- that's vicariously giving me what I need.

That's why the line "prepared to take another knock for the short gain" is so goddamn clever. It's a knock, as in a blow to Jenny's self to sell her car off for the Kawasaki. But the literal knock of someone else at her door who needs shelter is calling to her, for the short gain of vicarious relief (instead of having to face up to her own needs).

Anyways. Jenny's house of hard knocks. that's the post thank you for coming to my ted talk <3

[bloodylullaby]

Give Me Something Beautiful

Summary: Morrigan's ordinary life takes an extraordinary turn when Noah Sebastian, the lead singer of Bad Omens, stumbles upon her quaint little shop adorned with her captivating photography. Intrigued by her talent and drawn to her genuine spirit, Noah invites Morrigan to capture the essence of his band's concert through her lens. Their initial friendship blossoms into a deep and meaningful connection as they spend time together, fueled by their shared love for art and music. Despite their challenges as their worlds collide, Morrigan and Noah navigate the complexities of fame and intimacy, ultimately finding solace and strength in each other's arms. Through their journey from strangers to lovers, they discover that amidst life's chaos, true beauty lies in the simple moments shared between two souls destined to be together.

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x OC

Content Warning: None

Word Count: 3280

MasterList

Tag List: @thescarlettvvitch @malerieee @lookwhatitcost @herbhuntress @thatgirlforever5 @xxkittenkissesxx @lma1986

Chapter Seven

I groggily rub my eyes as a soft knock on my door pulls me from my slumber. With a yawn, I reach the door, feeling the weight of sleep still lingering in my limbs. Opening it, I'm greeted by Noah's equally groggy expression, but his smile instantly brightens my morning.

"Good morning," he greets me warmly before heading down the hall to wake the others. I can't help but smile back. I take a minute to stretch and clear away the lingering drowsiness. With a deep breath, I start getting ready for the day ahead, feeling a sense of anticipation building within me. Excited about my first day on the tour and eager to make a good impression on everyone I am meeting, I put extra effort into my appearance. I carefully select an outfit that perfectly balances casual and chic.

 I opt for a short black skirt paired with a cropped black turtleneck, creating a sleek and sophisticated silhouette. To add a touch of flair to my ensemble, I cinch my waist with my trusty corset belt, adorned with O-rings in the shape of a heart. As I slip into my favorite pair of platforms and accessorize with a few carefully chosen pieces of jewelry, I can't help but feel a surge of excitement for the day ahead. Stepping out of my room, I'm greeted by Noah and the rest of the group. 

Together, we go to a nearby Denny's for breakfast, ready to energize for the day. Sitting across from Noah and next to Jolly, a soothing sense of fulfillment washes over me. Joining their conversation, I find myself drawn into their lively discussion. As we continue chatting over breakfast, our conversation flows effortlessly from one topic to the next. Noah shares funny stories from past tours while Jolly adds witty remarks, keeping us all entertained.

After finishing our meal, we linger a bit longer, hesitating to start the day. Eventually, we gather our belongings and head out, reluctant to leave. “What’s our first stop?” I inquired, eager to gain insight into our itinerary for the day. 

"We have a series of interviews lined up, kicking off at 8," Folio informs me with a smile. Glancing at my phone, I notice that it's already 7:30. With a nod of understanding, I join them as we head towards the waiting van while Bryan heads off to prepare for his tasks, leaving me one of his cameras. The twenty-minute drive passes swiftly, and as we enter the building for our first round of interviews, I'm immediately struck by the bustling activity and organized chaos accompanying such events. People rush around, and the boys are quickly whisked away to ensure they look their best and have everything they need.

Standing awkwardly by the cameras, another photographer approached me. "Hey, you look new around here. I don't think I've seen you with them before,” she stated. “ I'm Kristina, by the way. What's your name?" she asked with a friendly smile. I returned the smile, my awkwardness slowly melting away.

“I’m Morrigan, and today is my first official day. I am extremely nervous,” I replied with a chuckle. 

"Nice to meet you, Morrigan!" Kristina responds warmly. "Don't worry; feeling nervous on your first day is totally normal. You'll do great!" she assures me with an encouraging smile. Her words help ease my nerves, and I feel more confident as we prepare for the interviews. As she walks away, I notice Noah walking towards me with a goofy smile. 

"How are you doing? Are you feeling okay?" Noah asks me eagerly, excitement shining in his eyes. I nod and give him a thumbs up, trying to match his energy. Noah gives me a quick yet reassuring hug before leading me over to where they'll be sitting for the interview. He pats the space beside him, indicating that I should sit there. I settle in, waiting for the others to gather before the interview begins.

As we wait for the others to join us, Noah engages me in casual conversation, helping to ease any lingering nerves. We share lighthearted jokes, laughing together as we anticipate the upcoming interviews. Soon, Nick, Folio, and Jolly join us, taking their seats as I get up and move by the cameras to take my position. As I adjust the camera, Noah flashes me an encouraging smile, which fills me with a sense of reassurance and confidence.

The interview is going exceptionally well. The boys exude their passion for their craft through their articulate words and expressive body language, captivating everyone present. Snapping candid shots of them relaxed on the couch infuses the photographs with a charming authenticity, especially when they playfully make subtle, amusing faces in my direction. Noah proves to be the main instigator; whenever I point the camera at him, he never fails to offer a small, lighthearted gesture, ensuring my comfort behind the lens.

From time to time, Kristina strolls to my side to check on me and ensure I'm still doing okay. During these moments, I take the opportunity to share some of the pictures I've been capturing, and she never fails to offer kind compliments on my photography skills. I noticed Noah would tense a little whenever she came around me and discreetly stared in our direction. His behavior left me puzzled, prompting me to cast him a questioning glance. However, each time I attempted to address the issue, he would brush me off, pretending nothing had changed in his demeanor.

As my confusion about Noah's behavior continued to gnaw at me, I became increasingly preoccupied during the rest of the interview. Even as I focused on capturing photographs and engaging with the group, Noah's unusual reactions lingered in the back of my mind. After the interview wrapped up and the group dispersed, I approached Noah, determined to address the elephant in the room. "Hey, Noah," I began tentatively, "I couldn't help but notice that you seemed a bit... off whenever Kristina was around. Is everything okay?"

Noah's initial reaction was one of surprise, quickly masked by a forced smile. "Yeah, everything's fine," he responded a bit too hastily, his gaze flickering away. With a brief excuse, he moved toward Nick, pulling him aside for a private conversation. Feeling increasingly perplexed, I scanned the room for Kristina and made my way over to her.

"Hey, Kristina, do you have a moment?" I asked, offering her a warm but slightly strained smile. She returned the gesture kindly and nodded. Together, we made our way to a quiet corner of the room.

"What's up?" Kristina asked, her expression filled with concern. "You seem a little nervous and out of it." I let out an awkward laugh before responding.

"Every time we're together, Noah has been acting strange. Do you have any idea why? I tried to ask him about it, but he quickly brushed me off and then ran off," I explained, confused and frustrated.

Her eyes lit up, and she let out a chuckle. "Oh, that," she said. "I'm best friends with one of his exes. We occasionally run into each other in the entertainment industry, but usually, he's more composed than this. He must really hold an attachment to you," she explained, offering a knowing smile. My cheeks instantly turned pink, and I attempted to hide them, but to no avail, as Kristina noticed and let out a small laugh.

"It's not like that," I murmured shyly. Kristina raised an eyebrow at me, clearly skeptical of my protest. I doubled down. “We’re just friends. You can ask any of the boys. There is nothing between us.” 

She playfully rolls her eyes and lightly laughs. "Whatever you say, hun. Rest assured, though, it wouldn't bother me if you guys had something going on. Just be careful," Kristina replied with a reassuring smile, her tone conveying genuine concern. 

Nervousness suddenly struck me. "Are you going to tell her about me?" I asked, feeling a knot of apprehension tighten in my stomach. Kristina raised her eyebrow again and gave me a sympathetic smile.

"I'm not sure. It's still a tough subject for her," she said, sensing my worry. I gave her a concerned look. “Nothing too bad happened between them. Honestly, they just weren't a good fit. They were great people separately, but together, they were just toxic with one another. It happens," she explained reassuringly, trying to ease my concerns.

Feeling relieved by Kristina's explanation, I nodded slowly, grateful for her honesty and understanding. "Thanks for telling me," I said sincerely.

With a reassuring smile, Kristina nodded back. "Of course, anytime," she replied warmly.

Suddenly, a rush of words spilled out of me before I could stop them. "What does she look like?" I blurted out, the words tumbling from my lips hurriedly.

She stood there, momentarily caught off guard, before letting out a short, loud laugh that drew the attention of Noah and Nick. Noah glanced over, a hint of concern and annoyance in his expression. "Sorry," Kristina said with a smile, appreciating my candid question. "Give me a second." With a swift movement, she pulled out her phone and, within the next moment, turned it around to show me.

As soon as I saw her picture, my heart stopped. She was gorgeous—gothic like me, but somehow even better. She embodied everything I aspired to be, and that realization stung a little. The fact that Noah was with someone so stunning left me feeling disheartened. What chance did I ever have if he was with a goddess like her? Kristina's suggestion that there could be something more between Noah and me suddenly felt like a distant dream, overshadowed by the stark reality of his previous relationship.

I cleared my throat, summoning a smile to cover up my insecurity. "Wow, she's extremely beautiful," I stated, maintaining a cheerful tone. My comment did the trick, as Kristina responded with a big smile and an agreeing nod. We exchanged a few more words before parting ways, and I returned to join the boys. Jolly lit up when he saw me and warmly draped a friendly arm around my shoulder.

"Having fun?" Jolly asks with a big smile, unaware of the slight tension going on with Noah. As Jolly's question hangs in the air, I glance at Noah, who looks at me with a strained smile. Sensing the underlying tension, I quickly redirect the conversation, responding to Jolly with a forced smile of my own.

 "Yeah, it's been great," I reply, hoping to keep the atmosphere light and cheerful. Jolly seems satisfied with my answer and continues chatting animatedly, oblivious to the unspoken tension coming off from Noah. 

Nick approaches my side and gently replaces Jolly's arm with his own, leaning slightly to whisper in my ear. I notice Noah discreetly trying to catch a glimpse of our conversation. "Hey, are you actually okay?" Nick asks, his tone friendly and concerned. "I know Noah's been acting a little weird, but I promise it has nothing to do with you." His words offer some reassurance, and I nod gratefully, appreciating his gesture of support.

Suddenly, Nick unwraps his arms from around me and gently nudges me in Noah's direction. However, due to his sheer strength and perhaps a lack of awareness of how easily I can be pushed over, I stumble and begin to fall. Thankfully, Noah quickly reacts, reaching out to catch me just in time, his arms wrapping securely around me to steady my fall. Jolly playfully hits Nick on the side of the head as they sneak off, leaving Noah and me momentarily alone. I look up and meet Noah's gaze, feeling embarrassment and gratitude.

"Hey," Noah said softly, his arms still gently balancing me before reluctantly letting go.

"Hey," I replied with a small smile, feeling warm and comfortable in his presence.

Noah clears his throat and looks past me, presumably towards Kristina. "I know that I've been acting slightly weird," he begins, his tone earnest. "But I wanted to let you know that Kristina is a close friend of a recent ex. I value you and our friendship a lot, and I was just nervous that she might say or do things that would make you look at me differently." 

I stare at Noah with admiration, appreciating his vulnerability. Without hesitation, I reach out and give him a sudden hug, catching him off guard. It only takes a second before he wraps his arms around me, sighing in relief. "First off, nothing would make me view you differently in a negative light," I murmured into his chest. "Secondly, she said nothing bad about you. She only mentioned the relationship because I asked why you were brushing me off and acting so strangely." I then lift my head and look at him, slightly caught off guard by the close proximity of our faces. With him looking down at me, our lips are at a close distance, and it makes me slightly dizzy.

I take a reluctant step back, trying to rub away the blush on my cheeks. "I did see a picture of her," I admit bashfully. "She is gorgeous," I add, glancing in every direction except Noah's.

"Hey," he says softly, gently placing his hands on my face and guiding my gaze back to his. You're gorgeous, too." My breath catches in my throat as I stare into his sincere eyes, feeling my heart race. He then kisses me gently on the forehead before squeezing my shoulders in reassurance. The warmth of his touch and the tenderness of the gesture fill me with a sense of calm and security.

“Thank you,” I say with a shy smile, feeling a mix of gratitude and bashfulness.

Noah returns my smile, his eyes full of warmth. "Anytime," he replies softly. Before we can say more, Jolly and Nick return, their playful energy breaking the moment.

"Hey, are you ready to get back to work?" Jolly asks with a mischievous grin on his face. Noah and I nodded and returned to the couch for another round of interviews. The rest of the interviews went smoothly, the boys' infectious energy lifting everyone's spirits. Noah stays close, occasionally glancing my way with a reassuring smile. Capturing more candid shots makes me feel more at ease, knowing supportive friends surround me.

As this part of the day wraps up, Kristina approaches me again. "You did a great job today, Morrigan. Those photos will turn out fantastic," she says, her smile genuine.

"Thanks, Kristina. It means a lot," I reply, feeling accomplished. After the interviews are over, we all start to pack up. Noah comes over, his arm casually draping over my shoulder. 

"Ready to head out?" he asks. "Our next stop is sound check."

"Yes," I answered excitedly. This will be my first time at a sound check, and I can't wait to take pictures of it. We gather our things and head to the van, the air buzzing with anticipation. The drive is filled with light chatter and laughter, and everyone is in high spirits. Noah's hand occasionally brushes against mine, a silent reminder of the connection we shared earlier.

When we arrive at the venue, the scene is a flurry of activity. Crew members hustle around, setting up equipment and making final adjustments. The boys quickly get into their groove, checking instruments and microphones. I stand back, camera in hand, ready to capture every moment.

Noah catches my eye and gives me a reassuring smile before joining the others on stage. As they begin their sound check, the empty venue fills with the powerful energy of their music. It's a raw, behind-the-scenes glimpse that feels intimate and exhilarating. I move around, snapping photos from different angles. The guys look so focused and passionate, and I can't help but feel proud. This is their element, and being able to document it feels like an honor.

After a while, Noah jumps down from the stage and walks over to me. "How are you feeling?" he asks, his eyes full of warmth.

"I'm Excited," I say, genuinely smiling. I can't wait to see you guys perform again."

"Good," he replies, squeezing my arm. "We'll make sure it's a show to remember."

We head backstage, where the boys continue preparing for the evening's concert and get ready for round two of the sound check. I find a quiet corner to review my photos, my heart light with the promise of the night ahead. The energy in the room is infectious, and everyone is focused and excited for the performance.

Eventually, Bryan shows up, immediately adding to the lively atmosphere. "Hey! How's it going?" he asks, grinning widely.

"Great! I'm just going through some of the photos I've taken," I reply, holding up my camera. He asked to take a look, and I gladly obliged. 

"These are kick-ass! You’ve really captured the vibe," he compliments, returning the camera. I thanked him, feeling good about everything. We spend a few minutes catching up, discussing the interviews, and sharing laughs. The second sound check is about to start, and the boys head to the stage, with me following eagerly, ready to capture every moment. As I step onto the stage, my eyes widen in amazement at the vast, empty venue, the lights casting a magical glow.

Noah looks over at me and smiles, motioning for me to stand by him. "Pretty cool, huh?" he says, his voice filled with pride and excitement.

"Yeah, it's incredible," I reply, my voice barely a whisper as I take it all in. The atmosphere is electric, even with no audience, and I can feel the anticipation building. The boys start their sound check, and I move around, snapping pictures of them as they play. Each shot captures their dedication and passion, and the intensity of their performance is evident even in this private rehearsal. Noah's presence next to me is comforting, and I find myself drawn to his every move and note.

As the sound check progresses, I catch glimpses of their friendships and playful interactions, adding a layer of authenticity to my photos. They laugh and joke; their bond as a band is evident in every exchange. Noah glances at me frequently, his eyes lighting up whenever he sees my reaction to their music. His smile is infectious, and I can't help but smile back, feeling a deep connection with him in these moments.

When the sound check ends, Noah walks over to me. "What do you think?" he asks, his eyes searching mine for approval.

"It was amazing," I say sincerely. "You guys are incredible."

He grins, looking both relieved and pleased. "I'm glad you think so. Are you ready for the real show tonight?"

"Absolutely," I reply, my excitement bubbling over. "I can't wait."

As we prepare to leave the stage, Noah gives me a quick, reassuring hug. "Thanks for being here," he whispers in my ear, his breath warm against my skin. I nodded, hoping my face wasn’t as red as it felt. With everything in place, the boys get ready for their big performance. As the concert time draws nearer, the venue starts to fill with fans. The anticipation is palpable, and I can feel the collective excitement of everyone present. I take a moment to soak it all in, knowing this will be a night to remember. As I take a final deep breath, I turn on my heels and follow the guys backstage, eager to see what the night has in store fo

[femmefat-ale]

It’s hard to get work done in a library when you can hear your own thoughts so clearly. While planning some Yuletide recipes, I couldn’t stop looking at my boyfriend’s growing belly almost slipping out of a tight t shirt. Instead of my responsibilities, I indulged in writing down a bit of a fantasy. If my big bear keeps gaining at the rate he is, there will most definitely be a chapter two :)))

Ember’s Folly

Entering into the woods, the paper map crinkles in Ember's strong grip. “Do not stray from the marked trails,” it said in large blue lettering. But what was the woods without exploration, some pre-decided quest that fate may force upon you? Regardless, he intended on only a short walk, to the top of the mountain and back if you could call that short, just to watch the sunset for a while and head back. The first marker was a red ribbon tied around a tree, not to be mistaken for pink ones which indicated that a tree needed to be cut down. “Stay on the trail, and you’ll have a good time,” ominous words for a guide to the National Park. Walking along the mulched trail ahead of him, Ember basked in the afternoon sunlight and prepared his glutes for quite the workout. The incline hadn’t started yet, but it soon would.

Passing the first cairn was always a sign of relief, a sign you were headed in the right direction and that there were more ahead. It’s a shame that the parks service had ordered for their removal, and Ember couldn’t bring himself to knock over the carefully constructed tower. A traveler needs a sign of hope every now and again, a reminder that people have been here before them and will come after to the same spot.

The trail became steep, less of a paved trail and more a stone staircase winding for miles along the mountain. Ember wished there was a more direct way up; next time he’ll bring a harness and rope. Escalating slowly, the sun passed over him to the other side of the mountain, occluding him in shadows. The cool gray mist descended upon the trees and settled in the ground foliage. A small noise to his right, Ember turned to see a sweet silka a few yards behind him. Following a trail of fescue, the doe walked on barely noticing the wanderer. Off the trail she went, grazing her way past the treeline only to stop and pop her head up. After a moment of thought, she swiftly returned and ran off down the hill behind Ember. Funny, he thought. Perhaps the rules apply to fauna as well. It was then that he noticed the birdsong had died down, and was much louder on his left. Odd, but not disarming, the sun was on that side to be fair. He couldn’t blame them for chasing down the setting sun. The sun was setting though, and he had little time if he wanted to catch dusk at the very least. Time management is never easy, but one hour could cost you your life in woods like this.

Perhaps I should turn back, he thought. Otherwise, he could always camp out and catch the early sunrise. Preparations for that kind of excursion however were nowhere to be found. Time management and preparedness had never been his particular strengths. Shit, it was starting to get dark, and 6 miles lay ahead before the peak. The trail circled back around at least. As his stomach growled, his scavenger instincts kicked in. Perhaps he should track down another deer, but in reality a squirrel was a much more likely candidate. Unfortunate, he thought, digging in his pockets to pull out the wrappers of protein bars consumed hours ago. Maybe he was a bit gluttonous, and that should have been accounted for before he left the house.

Pressing on, Ember continued his way up the path, getting progressively more tired as the sun descended more. He was starving at this point; he should head back while there’s still a speck of light. Or, he thought, take a trail back to the lodge near the trail’s entrance. While looking at the map, Ember smelled something divine, too good to be real. Hallucinations, especially during times of need, weren’t uncommon, but this seems all too real. Past the aroma of petrichor and dirt, there was something sweet trailing in the air, cutting through the fog right to Ember head. Like the damned cartoons, the smell of apple pie wafting like smoke right above him. Apple pie, that’s what it was. Impossible, yes, but his stomach growled in desperation. Letting his eyes adjust a bit, a narrow trail made itself apparent, overgrown by grass and clearly unkempt. It wasn't marked either. Pulling out the map once more, there wasn't any indication of the path. The large blue lettering stood out once again, but he might as well be illiterate at that point because the smell only grew stronger. Fuck it, he was only human, and humans needed a warm meal and a fire. Screw the mountain, he thought, taking the first step off the mulch and the flora crunched beneath his boots.

A pathfinder was a noble job, and he was serving not only himself but the parks service as well. Maybe he should build his own cairn and mark the path himself. So far nothing felt off except the continually retreating light. Either it was getting darker or the fog was getting thicker. Nevertheless, Ember couldn’t be stopped, not now. He was hungry and too far into this to retreat. The sweet aromas only got stronger as he went, leading him right to salvation, he thought. He was surprised others hadn’t come his way yet with the air becoming nearly intoxicating. It was then he noticed the birdsong had died out. In fact, he could not spot a single squirrel or hare in the nearby surroundings. Odd, but not alarming. Were his senses being dulled? Who cares anyway? The smells were now all consuming, apple pie and vanilla, fresh coffee too. The fog was illuminated by a small light far in the distance, past where the trail had ended before his feet. Finally, a sign of life. Marching onward desperate as ever, the lights multiplied and a small stead was visible just a short walk away. Ember was feeling light headed, out of his mind with his stomach grumbling. Upon reaching the small cabin, he realized that this is why the trails were to be followed closely. It came upon him that this was someone’s home, not a lodge. Was he intruding? He did disregard the rules completely, but for good reason. He didn’t want to be a bother, but he was absolutely starving. Perhaps he could ask for a quick bite of bread and be on his way, but he needed more. An idea popped into his mind as his eyes wandered to the bountiful garden on the house’s side. Tall sunflowers, asleep for the night, surrounded bushels of lettuce, peppers, tomatoes, and what he only assumed could be an entire apothecary of herbs. Stay away from those, he thought. It would be one thing to intrude and ask for food. It was another to be poisoned and fall ill after stealing from the garden. Stealing from the garden. He wanted to. Surely a missing cabbage would be much less intrusive than asking for a whole meal. The crop was so plentiful Ember doubted the gardener would even notice. So he grabbed a cabbage. Without even wiping the dirt off, he took a bite from the top leaf. It was utterly bland. And shameful eating was not much of an enjoyable experience. He much preferred happily indulging himself. Eating was to be a joyous thing, he thought. But here he was, stealing cabbages, ravaging like a wild dog. Before he could make much of a dent, Ember heard a creek from the other side of the cabin. Fuck, he hoped he hadn’t been found out. He dashed to the backside of the cabin, cowering under the windowsill, looking past the corner. He wondered if he was about to meet the owner, his maker, or both. A loud metal clang was the last thing he heard before the last of the light went out, and it was all dark now.

It had been dark for a while, he thought, as he opened his eyes once more. There was light again, warm, yellow light, and heat too. The first feeling he had was that of comfort, of tiredness. Perhaps he could stay passed out for a little while longer and get some sleep. Passed out - he had passed out. Immediately, the images of the cabin and cabbages came back to him. Fuck, he should have just knocked on the door. He should have just stayed on the trail. That cabbage was definitely not worth it, and he was definitely still hungry. Taking in his surroundings, he was happy to see he was in the kitchen at the very least. There was a pot steaming on a wood burning stove that sat next to a pie cooling down. He was right about the pie at least. What was in the pot though? As he went to stand from his chair, Ember realized that he couldn’t move a limb. Just now thinking to look down on himself, he was tied to the chair entirely, arms and legs tied to pine wood with black rope. Also, he was naked. The rope was itchy too. Good thing his dick wasn’t tied up because it was steadily getting harder as he came back to his senses. Hearing once again, Ember noticed the crackling of a fireplace somewhere in the next room along with a high pitched whistling tune. Coming from the owner, he assumed, they didn’t sound very pissed. But then why was he hit over the head and tied up? As all the answers walked through the archway at the end of the kitchen, Ember snapped back and the anxiety poured all in at once. “I’m so so sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude, but I was walking along the trail and-”

“Shush,” replied the woman now standing beside him. Taking the opportunity to meet his captor, Ember glanced up and realized how fucked he really was. Standing over the stovetop were harsh eyes, staring directly at him. The woman was shorter, plump, wearing a calico dress and a messy apron tied loosely around her small waist. She was adorned with a green headscarf with a few red strands hanging in her face.

“You see, I had made the grave mistake of being underprepared, and I had run out of rations for my journey, so,”

“You went off the trail,” she interrupted. “You’re not supposed to do that.”

“Well, I was walking and I had smelled something nice, your cooking, I now realize had led me off the path, and I walked straight-”

“Into my garden.”

“I apologize, really. I didn’t want to be a bother, but I was absolutely starving.”

“I’m sure,” she replied, ladling stew into a cup.

“Truly, I am very sorry,” Ember continued on until the woman was standing right next to him.

“Then shut up and eat. That’s what you came here for, isn’t it?” Ember looked up, not lifting his head, to finally meet her eyes. She looked down at him, then at his stomach.

“I can’t-”

“Open,” she said, pressing the spoon to his mouth, and so he obliged. She lifted a bite of stew and fed it to him. The first bite was delightful, so much so he let out a small sigh. It must have been beef, deliciously braised in red wine. As she gave him a bite of potato, she said, “If this is what you wanted, you could have just knocked. I didn’t buy those vintage brass knockers for nothing.” Knockers, he laughed to himself, and a pair she had. He was leaking a little from the tip now, finally a little hydrated from the warm broth. It still tasted of alcohol. She probably didn’t cook it out on purpose.

“I really am s-”

“Keep eating,” she said, feeding him more of the delicious soup.

“Mmmmmm,” this was divine, or utterly satanic. He wasn’t quite sure. It tasted like whoredom and sodium, the worst of sins.

“Good boy.” Fuck, that turned him on even more, almost as much as the stuffing did. He kept eating, growing fuller and fuller each bite. She was stuffing him, maybe she was a witch, just fattening him up before he ended up in the stew. Before he knew it, the bowl was empty, but he could eat more. “Good good. All full yet?” she asked. Ember released his head back, noticing the herbs drying above his head. Definitely witchy behavior. As he stared up at the flowers, he heard footsteps and the woman was grabbing another mug. Instead of stew, she filled it with water from the kettle. He never heard it whistle, but it was steaming. More suspicion started to grow. She reached for some of the herbs above him, shoving her tits right into his face. She picked an assortment of leaves and put them in water, stirring clockwise for a minute as they sat in silence. He didn’t know what to say. “Drink,” she said as she brought the cup to his lips. It burned him. “Shit sorry,” she broke out. She seemed genuinely worried, bringing a finger up to his lips and patting them as she blew cold air onto the tea. It whistled with a musical chime. “Here, now it should be better. Make sure to smell the vapor too for full effect.” He sipped on it once more, then took a big gulp as it was now cooled off. It tasted bitter but earthy. It made him and his cock feel fuller, but there was a void in his stomach once more.

“Are you a witch?” He asked. Fuck, that was probably a mistake.

“Something of the sort,” she replied. He didn’t know whether to get worried or extremely fucking horny. “Nevermind it; keep drinking.” She held it up to his mouth until he finished the whole cup. She set it down and reached for something. Thinking that was the last meal before the demonic sacrifice ritual she had planned, Ember closed his eyes and turned his head towards the window. Instead, he heard a spark; he looked to see she was lighting a pipe. Taking a long, slow hit, she leaned over and blew smoke into his face. That was definitely weed, the good, smelly shit too. Those weren’t carrots in the garden after all. She grabbed hold of his hair and brought the pipe to his lips and he took a hit, immediately feeling it go right to his dick with no blood left in his head. He was swirling, probably would have fallen forward if it weren’t for the strong grip in his hair. “Good boy,” she chimed again, and Ember became less and less worried about his predicament, letting his anxiety float away with the smoke.

As she let go of his hair, she stuck the pipe in her mouth and walked back over to the stove, grabbing another cup of stew. He realized he was starving once again despite the fact he just had such a large helping. Maybe it was the weed, maybe it was whatever was in the tea. He didn’t care right now. He just wanted to eat. And he did, as the witch hand fed him a second and then third cup before the ropes grew tight, digging into his skin. His belly was swollen, dick barely peeking out from under it, even fully erect. She was fattening him up.

As he yawned, fearing a food coma would steal away his consciousness for the second time today, she looked Ember dead in the eyes and said, “Oh you’re not done yet. You think you can just come to my house and steal my food? We’ll see about that.” She placed a plate of apple pie down on the hardwood floor in front of her feet. He was confused and looked up at her, only for her to walk over, maintaining a cold stare. She untied him from the chair and shoved him to the floor with a thud.

“Ow!”

“Poor thing,” she replied, completely unsympathetic. As he tried to get up, he found his hands and feet were still bound together. The pie laid a few feet in front of him, and he looked up at the witch for help. “Crawl, come and eat it like the dog you are.” And he did, wormed his way across the floor to the pie, realizing that she didn’t provide a fork, not like he could use it anyway, he supposed. She really did want him to eat like a dog. And he would, he would be her dog if she wanted. Looking up at her once more with uncertainty, she lifted her boot to press down on his head, “Eat, boy.”

He smashed his face right into the pie, smearing the filling all over his lips and chin. It was sugary sweet, soft and felt amazing in his mouth. He’d swear it was enchanted. The crust was buttery and crumbled easily, which made it impossible to eat. After a few bites, the pie was left a pile of mush. “Lick it up, doggy,” she said, still smoking from her pipe, eyes now hot on him, red and stoned. She walked behind him, reached under his hips and pulled him up to his knees and a puddle of precum gathered under him. “Fat dog,” she cooed, “your stomach already reaches the floor.” Did it? Was he getting filled that much? Whatever; the food was good anyway. As he licked up the remains of what was once a pie, devoured by hunger, the witch raised her boot once more to rest it on his back until he finished. That turned him on so much his balls started to ache. She brought him a second plate and did the exact same thing once more. He was definitely full now. As if she could sense it, she lowered her pipe for him again, and he was hungry all over again. Then she just gave him the rest of the pie, left in the dish there for him, and he went at it like a beast, as if he were as hungry as before he stumbled upon this gluttonous dream. Gnashing his teeth, he inhaled soft apples and cinnamon right down his throat, making godless noises as he did. Within a minute, the entire thing was gone, the dish licked clean and spotless. Fuck, he still wanted more. As tight as his stomach felt, as full as he was, he wanted, needed more. “Good boy,” she said again, bringing a hand down to run her fingers through his long hair. It was probably as messy as he was, sticky and matted together like a mangy dog. He raised his gaze to meet hers again and whined. “Oh, poor thing, you’re still hungry, aren’t you?” she asked sweetly. “Fat dog,” she said less sweetly, and he whined again. “Aw, the dog wants more pie, doesn’t he?” Ember dropped his head. Immediately she pulled it up and repeated, “Doesn’t he?” voice lowered and tinted with lust. She let go and walked over to the pantry, and oh god Ember nearly came from the sight alone. The pantry was stocked, looked endless, filled with candies and crackers, every kind there were. She bent down to the bottom shelf, and Ember caught a glimpse of her supple ass before she stood up once more. “Well, I don’t have the ingredients nor care to make you another pie. I suppose you’ll have to make your own.”

She walked towards him again, and Ember perked up, thinking she would unbind him and let him cook and eat as much as he desired. Instead, she moved the pie dish and rolled him over onto his back, and straddled him. Oh, he understood a bit better now. “Are you going to be a good boy for me- well, what is your name?” That surprised him. Perhaps she wasn’t so cold; in fact, he was willing to bet she was quite warm. That made his dick jerk up and rub against her ass. Wait, she had asked him a question.

“Ember.”

“Ember; that’s nice. Well, are you going to be a good dog for me, Ember?”

“Yes, yes - um, what is your name?” She slammed his head to the floor, grabbing his throat.

“You’ll call me m’am.”

“Ok.”

“Ok, what?”

“Ok, m’am. Yes, m’am.”

“Good boy, now are you going to make yourself a pie?” He whined at that, bucking up in desperate search of some kind of friction. All he got was rough cotton. Then, she pulled her dress up and red panties to the side. Ember could feel the heat radiate from it. “Now be a good boy and fuck me, ok?”

“Yes, m’am, “ was all he could get out before she sunk her warm, slick cunt down onto his throbbing cock. God, Satan, whoever, this was perfect. He didn’t realize how desperate he was until he let out a loud gasp at his entrance. She sat down, put all her weight on him for a minute until she raised herself up, dick nearly slipping out.

“Well, puppy, are you going to fuck me or what?” And that was all he needed to start writing on the floor, pushing up as hard he could for the position he was in. Still bound, he thrust in sloppily as the witch moaned, and it was beautiful, harmonic even. Perhaps she was a bard. Ember kept whining until she reached over to stuff candies in his mouth to shut him up. That didn’t help much. He was a vocal lover and a vocal eater. The sugar melted on his tongue and he nearly cried at the taste. Now the witch was bouncing up and down on his dick, throwing her head up in ecstasy. Thighs trembling, she worked her strong thighs up and down again, squeezing down on him. Ember was getting close, his balls got tight as her round ass slammed against them over and over again. His overfilled tummy filled with warmth that traveled lower into his groin. “Good puppy, cum for me, will you? Fill me up with your fat cock.” And that sent him over the edge. He thrust up one last time before she slammed them both to the floor as sparks went off in Ember’s brain. Warmth spreaded down his thighs, an incredulous amount. Feeling it fall down his thighs as she shook on top of him, he realized she’d squirted. Fuck, he was getting wet. Maybe she’d make him lick it up. Mind wandering, he barely processed how much he was fucking filling this bitch, wait, witch. Was this her plan all along? Foxy devil. Reverberations kept shooting through his body short circuiting for a whole minute after as he laid there, trying to catch his breath. The witch was petting his head; he was a good boy after all. He deserved it. “Good boy, good boy,” she repeated as he came down. As soon as he felt like he might just fall asleep right there, full to the brim, lying on the kitchen floor, the witch got up, walked back to the table and plopped herself up onto it. Her plump ass folded on the edge of the table, and her thick thighs parted to reveal a dark pink pussy dripping with cum. She used her fingers to toy with it, spread it around, shove some of it back in. God if he didn’t feel so heavy, he’d get up to take her there again. All he could do right now was stare. Looking back up at him, she asked, “Well are you going to finish your pie, sweet pup?” And fuck, he was still hungry.

[brutal-nemesis]

YWDaC: Turns Out, Forever Is a Long Time

Ayo we have FINALLY arrived at the end of Castys's lil pirate misadventure I hope you have enjoyed all of the delicious lore

←Previous - Castys Masterlist

Ingredients: storm at sea activity, mentioned stabbing, suicide for "convenience" (it's not quite the usual level of he doesn't care but it's still not like bro wants to die yk), a little self harm (once again, out of practicality)

What Castys really wanted was to have something for breakfast, but responsibilities came first, so here he was, delivering a message that he could have ordered anyone else to relay, just so he could go back belowdecks and hopefully grab something on the way back, which made him wonder if he should have been given responsibilities in the first place, but oh well, he didn’t put himself in charge. Now, to get this done so he could eat. Castys knocked on the door in front of him, and upon hearing a noise that sounded like a word, he entered. Captain Izogie was sitting with her shirt partially off and her back to him, exposing the bold patterns of white fire ink curling around her dark shoulders. Alfyn was standing behind her with his hands on her bare back, clearly concentrating. It was a sight he’d seen before, but he always felt a little awkward stumbling upon it. 

“Uh, sorry, didn’t realize it was woman magic day.”

Izogie laughed a little as she turned her head to look at him. “Is that what you lot call it?”

“Less of a mouthful than whatever Alfyn says.”

Alfyn just sighed. “Estrogen production stimulation?”

Castys nodded. “Doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue. Anyway, Captain, just thought I’d let you know the sunrise is red this morning, and given the clouds now, we’re all pretty sure it’s gonna storm. And yes,” Castys held up a hand, “preparations are already underway. Just wanted you to be aware.”

Alfyn, finished with Izogie’s treatment, stepped back. “In that case, I have a few things to secure in the med bay. If you’ll excuse me, Captain.”

Izogie nodded as she buttoned her shirt. “Thank you, Alfyn, you’re excused.” He gave Castys a smile as he left. “Thank you as well, Castys.” She gave him a thoughtful look as she pulled her coat on and stood up. “You know, when you first arrived, I wasn’t sure if you were going to last here, but here you are, my first mate, of all things. You’ve grown quite a bit.”

Castys rolled his eyes and smiled, leaning against the doorframe. “Well, yeah, a scared tied up kid rarely looks like he’s gonna amount to anything. And it took you a few years to get that mouth off of me,” he laughed.

“You say that like it’s gone completely,” Izogie said with a glint in her eye, coming up to stand in front of Castys. Despite more than a decade passing, she still towered over Castys, the passage of time only showing in the lines on her face and the gray streaking her hair. He hadn’t grown any taller, but he’d at least gained some muscle and quite a few scars, which was well within the realm of expectation for being a pirate. “Well then, let’s go help out, Castys. This isn’t our first storm, and we need to make sure it won’t be our last.”

“I’d prefer to go down to a sea monster, at least. And I can’t imagine anything short of a hurricane taking you, Captain.”

“I’d like to see one try.” 

The storm that night certainly did.

The rain came down in sheets, driven to needlepoints by the harsh winds. It was more difficult than ever to hear the shouts of the crew as reports and orders were passed around, and Castys’s throat was raw from relaying directions to the men at the helm. He was glad for the storm sails, because even though they hadn’t had time to put all of them up, they were still making good progress through the crashing waves. At least, he hoped so. 

The ship’s bow pierced through another wall of water, and it was all Castys could do to stay on his feet, holding tight to the rope tied around his waist. Shit, one of the men at the helm had collapsed, and there was no one else to take his place. Castys ran up, grabbing the wheel alongside the others as he continued to keep an eye on the angle of the bow and the oncoming waves. It was fine, he could keep this up even as his arms burned from the strain, the hairs that had escaped from his ponytail blowing in his eyes and sticking to his face, making it even harder to see, the ever-louder thunder overhead drowning out the sound of his own voice. Didn’t matter if things were only getting worse, they had to keep-

CRACK

Everything was too loud, or maybe too quiet, roaring and buzzing, he was pressed up against the soaking wood of the deck and there was a ball of dense, sharp agony buried in his chest, making it hard to breathe, he kept coughing, couldn’t stand, couldn’t see, the blackness was coming, fading in and out, and all of a sudden he was belowdecks, blood and rain puddling around him, hands on his chest, pulling up his shirt, the words muffled, his chin moved up, Alfyn’s eyes were gray and full of fear, he hadn’t seen that expression before, or maybe he had, and maybe he was going to die, here, because of the storm, because he couldn’t breathe, time was up, that was it, those thirty-four years were over and done he wasn’t getting that time back no more tries he was satisfied with that right he had to be he couldn’t have any regrets because he wasn’t supposed to but it would have been nice if…if…

Castys woke up to a vast expanse of yellowish-white, which was not the color he expected the afterlife to be. Upon further inspection, though, it turned out that it was just a sheet over his head. After tossing it off and sitting up, he was greeted by a shrill scream that should have come from a young girl but actually came from Alfyn. 

“Chill, dude, you shouldn’t have put that over me if you’d healed me.” Castys narrowed his eyes a bit as he talked. Did his voice always sound like that? Maybe whatever injuries he’d had had damaged his hearing or something. He wasn’t in any pain now, though, so that was good.

“C-Castys you-you’re-how are you-” Alfyn ran over, nearly tackling Castys as he pulled up his tattered shirt to reveal a rather bloodstained but otherwise perfectly fine torso. Castys gave him a weird look, leaning away.

“Uh, you’re the one who fixed whatever it was, weren’t you?” He brushed his wet hair off of his face as he stared down at himself. Why the fuck did he grow his hair out, again? It was annoying as hell like this. 

Alfyn shook his head in disbelief. “I didn’t heal you, Castys. You-you were…both of your lungs had collapsed and I-I couldn’t fix it but-” He looked Castys in the eye, frowning. “You…you look different. Younger.” He ran a hand over Castys’s ribs, and Castys was very glad that he was more than used to the medic touching his bare skin. “There’s no scar from what just-” 

“Hey, what are you-” Castys yelped as Alfyn forced him to lean forward, pulling up his shirt even more to expose his back.

“You still had scars from your first day, didn’t you? When you were flogged?”

“Uh, I think so? I don’t really make it a hobby to look at my back, so you’d probably know better than me.” 

Alfyn sighed, letting go of Castys and standing up. “Well, if they were there before, they’re gone now. You…” He looked around at the patients lying on the cots on the other side of the room. “Do you feel alright, Castys?”

“I think so? I’m not in any pain or anything, but…I dunno, does my voice sound weird to you?” There were a few other things that were bothering him, but he couldn’t really get a solid hold on what they were. He just felt different, his thoughts more scattered, his arms less muscular than he remembered, the persistent ache in his left knee from a battle wound a few years ago completely gone now.

Alfyn nodded slowly. “Now that you mention it, it does seem a little…off.” He frowned again. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on with you, Castys, but I have more urgent patients to attend to, and I’m going to ask you to stay put until we can get this sorted out.”

“But the s-”

“Fine then, I’m not asking, I’m ordering. Doctor’s orders supersede everything else, you know that. And the storm has almost passed. So stay. Put.”

Castys grumbled and crossed his arms, but he didn’t move to get up. He knew all too well that Alfyn wasn’t above restraining disobedient patients, and he’d rather avoid that today. Bored, he peeked at his chest again. It was very bloody, but there were no injuries anywhere, and poking his ribs didn’t hurt like a bitch, so they weren’t broken or anything. What was weird though was that he still had some scars, just not all of them. The twisted one on his tummy and the clean line over his heart were still there. He slapped a hand on his right cheek and tried very hard to smile, finding that, yup, he still couldn’t really do it on that side, so the remnant of the gash on his face was still there. But the one on his knee, on his arm, and apparently the ones on his back…gone. It didn’t make sense. Unless…

He put a hand over his heart. Every scar he still had now, he’d gotten before…before that day. The day he still didn’t want to believe had happened. Just as he was about to dig up that lovely little box of buried memories, Captain Izogie rushed in, worry etched in her face. 

“Alfyn, is it true Castys is-” she laid eyes on Castys and the tension visibly drained from her body. “Oh thank Mydnar.” She walked over and crouched down in front of where he was seated on the floor, eyeing him suspiciously. “What…what did Alfyn do to you? You look like a kid again.”

“Not my fault!” Alfyn called from where he was working on someone’s fucked-up arm.

“Uh, yeah, I, um,” Castys laughed nervously. “It’s my fault. I think. But I’m okay! All the breathing is happening fine.”

Izogie shook her head. “You’re not making any sense. Laias said a broken piece of the mizzen top yard poked a hole through your chest.”

“It did,” Alfyn said, wiping his hands as he walked over. “Both of his lungs were punctured. I worked as quickly as I could after I pulled it out, but…” he swallowed. “Your pulse was gone, Castys.”

“But I…I’m fine. I’m…” He swallowed. Everything was so cold all of a sudden, that was the only reason he’d be shaking like this, right? Had to be. Unsure if he even wanted to know the answer to this question, Castys lifted his shirt, poking at the scar on his stomach. “Alfyn…what if a person was…was stabbed right here. And the knife was dragged and twisted a bit before being pulled out. And then it went,” his finger was over his heart now, “right here. Would that person…would they die?”

Alfyn looked at Castys in slight horror before slowly nodding. “Without medical attention, in a matter of minutes. Possibly less depending on how much the stomach wound had bled and how much damage had been done.”

Every worry line in Izogie’s face stood out more than ever before. “Castys, you-what are you saying? Are those scars-”

“I think so.” Castys dropped his shirt. “At least, from what I can remember. So maybe I…I already died. Before this. All this time I just thought I might be remembering things wrong, but if what Alfyn said about earlier is true, then…and it might explain why I’m…different.”

“So you think you’re some kind of…” the furrow in Alfyn’s brow deepened, “immortal?”

Immortal. The thought was sort of exciting, as ridiculous as it seemed, but it was also sort of terrifying. Why the fuck was he one, anyway, if it was true? He was just Castys, a random pirate with incurable amnesia about his childhood and hadn’t done anything special besides the whole…maybe this was some kind of fucked-up reward for finishing his mission? But then where had-fuck, okay, no more of that, his brain hurt too much. Why think about things when he could get some results?

“Hey, Captain, could you stab me or something? I wanna see what happens.”

Izogie, who was still clearly trying to process whatever the hell was going on, gave him a very concerned look. “No, Castys, what-even if you think you’ll-you’ll come back what if-”

“Well, I should have died twice now. So I feel like I’ve already gotten a second chance if I was going to be dead anyway.” He glanced over at Alfyn. “Could you-”

“I’m a fucking doctor, Castys. My hands aren’t-I can’t. No.” The other pirates cursed pretty much every other word, but coming from Alfyn, that word might as well have been a cannon blast. Seeing that neither of his friends were willing to stab him for science, Castys dropped the idea and let them examine him for a bit before finally getting cleared to go back to his quarters. The crew gave him odd looks as he passed by, just hammering it in even more that he was different somehow. Either that or they’d heard he fucking died and was now walking around perfectly healthy, which was also probably cause for concern.

Once he was alone, he pulled out his sword and looked at his reflection in the blade. From what he could tell in this shitty makeshift mirror, his face did look a lot more youthful than he remembered. The scruff on his chin and his longer hair did make him look a bit older than the age he supposed his body was now, but the beard was itchy and long hair was a pain in the ass. Part of him wanted to hack his ponytail off right now with his knife, but he’d rather not look like a total mess on top of everything else, so he could wait to ask for a haircut tomorrow. He could shave, however, and he felt a lot better once it was done. 

Turning the razor over in his hands, Castys wondered if he really would come back to life again if he slit his throat or whatever. Well, only one way to find out. His clothes were already super bloody, anyway, so that wouldn’t be a problem. Here goes nothing, then.

Why were his hands shaking so much? It was just dying, he’d apparently done it before, it was fine, he’d come back, he wasn’t leaving anyone behind, just a quick swipe of the blade and then…then…he’d come back, right? Right. A-and if he didn’t, he’d already cheated death before, so it was only fair for things to end now. Deep breath maybe his last-

The blade moved a little more slowly than he would have liked, a flash of pain before-

Castys opened his eyes. He was still in his cabin, lying on the floor, razor still gripped in his hand, fresh blood warm and sticky on his neck. S-so then…he’d died. And come back. And wasn’t in any pain. 

Some sick fascination drove him to slice a deep gash in his arm before turning the blade on his neck again.

He woke up just as healthy as before, no cut in sight.

That settled it, then. Castys…he was immortal. A deep feeling of freedom unlike anything he’d ever known washed over him. He could do anything, go anywhere, not having to worry about wasting his time or being in danger, because fuck that he was immortal nothing would ever stop him again. 

Lying in a puddle of his own blood, Castys couldn’t help but laugh.

He got slapped and lectured the next day for testing things out on himself, sure, but it was nothing in the face of his infinite future. He could go on with everyone forever and e-

Kamon left. 

Alfyn died. 

Izogie retired.

And then, one day, Castys was standing on the deck of the ship, his ship, and he realized he didn’t recognize a single face looking back at him. Well, he recognized them, but he didn’t know them, didn’t remember any of them from his life before the years felt like minutes. There was a divide between them, and he wasn’t sure who put it there.

Immortality was…lonely. Isolating. 

Someone else like him had to be out there, right? So he’d look all over, chase down every lead, even an immortal monster or something would do, he just needed-

Castys felt as alone as he was all those years ago, trapped on that deserted island, the passage of time impossible to follow. 

But no matter what, he’d find that ship on the horizon. 

Castys Cult: @as-a-matter-of-whump​ @blackrosesandwhump​ @fanmanga1357-blog​​ @thehopelessopus​ @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi​ @hearse-song​ @muddy-swamp-bitch @whumpasaurus101 @yet-another-heathen​​ @galaxywhump​ @starnight-whump​ @his-unspoken-words​ @misspelledwitch @suspicious-whumping-egg​ @pumpkin-spice-whump​ @painsandconfusion @i-can-even-burn-salad​​ @befuddled-calico-whump​ @whumpinggrounds @whump-queen​ @whumpedydump @theelvishcowgirl​

[dragonologist-writings]

Title: Lessons Learned Fandom: Pathfinder: Wrath of the Righteous Rating: T Status: One-Shot Main Characters: Knight-Commander Lilith Additional Notes: Character Backstory, Hurt No Comfort, Harm to Children Word Count: 1.3k Summary: A young Lilith spars with her fellow students and learns a valuable lesson.

read below or here on ao3

The mace is cold and heavy in Lilith’s hands as she lifts it from the training bench, and it takes every ounce of discipline within her to hold back a grimace as she raises the weapon and dutifully takes her position across from her fellow student. She is sparring against Felix today, which is quite unfortunate; at fourteen years of age, he is the oldest in the class and easily the most likely to win in games of brute strength. The other students stand against the far wall, watching and waiting their turns, and Lilith cannot help but wish that one of them had been chosen for this first match.

It is not the sparring itself Lilith minds. She’s adept at fighting, when she is allowed to be. But her strength comes from magic, from cunning. Straightforward weaponry has never been her strongest skill, and the blunt, brutal maces favored by the Asmodean Church seem especially inelegant in her hands. Her preferences matter little, of course; Inquisitors must use weapons, and if she is to be one, she must learn.

Instructor Brigia watches impassively as the two combatants fall into place. Outside of the training grounds, she wears the typical uniform of the Inquisitors: dark robes paired with masks of iron. The mask is intended to be a means of intimidation, but the removal of it does little to make her expression more inviting. She has never observed their sparring sessions before; she never bothered, not when they were young.

But now this class has ascended to the upper ranks. Now, they are worthy of higher notice. Lilith tightens her grip on her weapon and resolves to prove herself, no matter her disadvantage.

Instructor Brigia is silent as she watches her students prepare, and when they are ready, she gives a stiff nod and a single word. “Begin.”

Naturally, Felix is the one to make the first move. He charges in without hesitation, and Lilith is immediately forced into a defensive position as she dodges his persistent blows.

The fight is sickeningly short. Lilith’s mace is knocked from her hands with a blow that leaves her fingers stinging, and by the time she regains her footing, Felix is already looming over her, his own weapon paused mid-swing, hovering inches from Lilith’s chest.

Humiliation burns within Lilith as the moment stretches out. The Instructor should be calling the match in Felix’s favor now that she’s been disarmed, but no such call comes. Is she being made an example of? Will her failure be held out before the other students, that they may learn from her misstep? It would not be the first time.

She can only wait, stewing in her defeat, until Felix finally wavers and glances to the Instructor.

Instructor Brigia gives no indication that anything is amiss. Stone-faced as ever, she tilts her heads and prompts, “Well?”

Another moment of silent confusion passes, and she releases a low sigh. She nods toward Lilith and says, “Finish the fight. Incapacitate your opponent.”

Lilith understands immediately, and the embarrassment and frustration within her sharpens into cold fear.

She was right. She is to be made an example of.

Felix takes longer to catch on. “I…I already won, Instructor.”

“You have won nothing yet. Incapacitate your opponent.” Instructor Brigia’s gaze flickers from Felix, to Lilith, to Felix again. “We have healers in the temple if needed. Do not make me repeat myself again.”

Somehow Felix still isn't able to grasp her words, but his idiocy is Lilith’s gain. He is still looking at the Instructor when she strikes, bare-handed but strengthened by the type of resolve which is only borne from panic. She barely fazes the much larger student, but she does manage to grab hold of his arm, and she knows her only option is to wrest the weapon from his grip.

Even with the element of surprise, however, Lilith is still a head shorter than her opponent. He takes hold of her by the back of her robes and throws her to the ground, and this time, there is no hesitation when he comes at her with his mace.

Lilith has a split second to decide what to do- and she decides that she will not simply lie here and make herself an easy target. Rules be damned.

She lifts her hands to meet Felix’s assault, her palms already full of fire pulled straight from her veins. He screams as the magic makes contact and the scent of burning flesh fills the air; even as he swings blindly in retaliation, Lilith refuses to relent. With the burns spreading up his arms he has no chance of aiming well, and his frantic attacks catch not Lilith's head, but rather her right hand. This is infinitely preferable, but the attack still slashes her palm open and wrenches her fingers back with the force of the blow. Lilith ignores the bust of pain and brings her other hand back around, delivering a ball of fire with it, and Felix screams again as he is thrown back by the force.

The other students are shouting now, their voices mixing with Felix's screams. Lilith staggers back up to her feet, just in time for Instructor Brigia’s voice to cut coldly through the chaos.

“Stand down.”

Silence falls. The Instructor approaches Felix’s fallen form and leans down to inspect him, the barest hint of disappointment crossing her features. “A paltry performance, but we don’t wish to damage him beyond repair, do we? Somebody escort this one to the infirmary. And as for you…”

Instructor Brigia leaves Felix behind and approaches Lilith, who automatically straightens her back to stand at attention. Blood drips from her hand, but she doesn’t move from her position as she braces herself for admonishment. She broke the rules, and there is nothing more important here than the rules-

“Good work.”

A shocked breath of relief escapes Lilith’s lips, but before she can say anything, Instructor Brigia has taken hold of her shoulder and steered her to face the other students. “I hope the rest of you were paying attention. You are students now, but one day soon, you will be fighting in the real world. In the real world, there can be no hesitation. The heretics you face will take any opportunity to turn against you. Do not give them the chance. You have all been deemed worthy of advancement in our ranks, and that means that you should be able now to apply this lesson in your training…just as Lilith has.”

Pride swells in Lilith’s chest at the praise, even as her fear-fueled adrenaline fades and the throbbing in her hand suddenly threatens to overwhelm her. She bites back a gasp, though she must not be entirely successful, for Instructor Brigia glances down at her. The Instructor holds out her own hand in silent command, and Lilith forces herself not to flinch as she offers up her injury.

The healing is almost as painful as the attack. Lilith’s skin seethes as it stitches itself together, and the bones of her fingers twitch and crack as the Instructor forces their mending. When she is done, however, Lilith’s hand is good as new...save for two of her fingers, which remain painfully bent and crooked.

Lilith bites down hard on her tongue to prevent a whimper from slipping out as Instructor Brigia brushes a thumb against the fingers. In a thoughtful voice, she says, “These will be treated tomorrow. That means twenty-four hours from now and not a second sooner. Let it be a lesson to improve your melee skills. You may have won, but it was a sloppy victory, and there is no pride in that. The next time you spar, I expect to see a refined technique. Understood?”

Lilith nods and slowly withdraws, every fiber of her resolve focused on keeping the shakiness out of her hands and her voice. “Understood, Instructor. I will not fail.”

[darkroguescribe]

Fireworks

Hitsuhina Week 2023 - Day 1: Academy Days / Fireworks

Rating: K

Summary: Hitsugaya is preparing to take his Captain's Exam. But doubts weigh heavy on his mind.

AN: Originally posted on AO3

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

Eyes followed him everywhere he went. It wasn’t unusual for him, his white hair and turquoise eyes tended to draw attention whether he wanted it or not. But these days, the stares were more intensely judging him. It was no secret that Toshiro Hitsugaya had been working on mastering his bankai for the past few years. But since Captain Shiba had vanished, and the Tenth Division was in need of a captain, he’d begun to consider taking the Captain’s Exam to fill that vacancy. Once word got out that he’d take the exam, every soul reaper he’d pass would stare and whisper among one another. He’d learned to ignore most people talking about him but hearing it from within his own division was another thing.

He’d heard a few unranked members talk about transferring if he was made captain. Laughing at how ridiculous it would be for them to take orders from a kid. Fortunately, Lieutenant Matsumoto seemed to be in full support of him should he be made captain. After all, he’d practically been running the whole place since even before Captain Shiba left. His administrative skills were evident since the very beginning. The questions laid mostly in his maturity and leadership. Hitsugaya made it to his room after training after dodging most of the larger streets to avoid the stares. Entering his room, he began his nightly routine of polishing his zanpakuto and planning with the spirit for what to practice tomorrow. “My Sennen Hyoro could use work. The pillars are too thin. I’m sure there is a way to strengthen them without expending too much energy.” He said.

In his mind he heard Hyorinmaru rumble in agreement. “You think too much in preparation,” The dragon said. “Lay the trap. Then lead the enemy within.”

“That leaves too much up for chance.”

The dragon spoke quietly in an almost nurturing tone and said, “Not ready.”

Hitsugaya caught his reflection in the blade and simply held the sword where it was. Not ready meant too young. And as he looked at himself, he thought that perhaps the dragon is right. Not ready to perfect his bankai. And perhaps even too young to become captain. His face was still boyish and he was quite short even for his age. The idea that he could even achieve bankai wasn’t even taken seriously by most. Men in his own division had doubts. Maybe the entire division would be better off waiting for someone else to take over. He’d still be the 3rd seat and that would give him time to grow up and gain further mastery of his bankai.

“Lil’ Shiro!” A loud knock on his door pulled him from his thoughts as he looked at the shadow of the figure outside. “Lil’ Shiro you in there?”

Hitsugaya groaned, putting his zanpakuto away. “What is it Hinamori?” He asked as he slid open the door.

“Hello to you too, Lil’ Shiro,” She beamed at him, not even bothered by the annoyed tone of his voice.

“I thought you said you’d call me by my name once I became a soul reaper.”

She just smiled and shrugged, “I did. And I do, at least when on official business. But right now, we’re both off so, you’re Lil’ Shiro.”

He groaned, realizing he wasn’t likely to get her to stop at least not now anyway. “Can you at least drop the ‘Lil’’? I’m not that short anymore.”

Hinamori laughed, “Okay Lil’— I mean, Shiro.”

“What do you want anyway?”

“I wanted to know if you’d come with me back to my barracks.” Her voice dropped into a whisper as she cupped her hands as though it were some big secret. “We planned a special fireworks show for Captain Aizen’s birthday tonight.”

“You realize everyone already knows about that, right?”

“Come on it’ll be fun. Just like the ones we’d watch as kids.” She reached out and grabbed his arm and began tugging.

Hitsugaya rolled his eyes and debated the option of going versus staying for a solid minute before agreeing. Outwardly, it looked as though he was reluctant to attend. But deep down he knew that his mind had been made up the moment she smiled at him.

Together, the two of them made their way in the direction of the Fifth Division. The closer they got, the more people seemed to already be crowding the street waiting for the fireworks. Hinamori had to elbow her way through, dragging him along behind her in order to get to the gate where guards stopped them. With a flash of her lieutenant’s badge, she got them both in without any further fuss and they made their way to the roof where a bunch of other officers gathered. They found a relatively quiet part and Hinamori sat down, her feet dangling over the edge while Hitsugaya remained standing.

“Hey I meant to congratulate you on getting a date for your Captain’s Exam,” She said.

“Hmm.”

“When’s it going to be?”

“Two weeks.”

Hinamori frowned. “I thought you’d be a little excited about it,” She said.

He turned his head towards the nearest pair of officers, feeling their eyes on the back of his head. When their eyes met, the pair just laughed and turned in on themselves.

She noticed this silent exchange and stood up. “Hey, I’ll take care of it.”

“Don’t,” Hitsugaya sighed.

“You’re going to be a captain. I can’t have members of my division not be respectful to the other captains.”

He was quiet and glanced around to make sure no one could hear him before he spoke again. “What if… what if I don’t become captain?”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

He shrugged and bowed his head slightly, his shoulders rolled forward a little. “What if… I don’t get it? What if I fail?”

Hinamori moved around to step in front of him, looking down at her best friend who was one of the smartest, bravest people she knows show her how nervous he really is. Hitsugaya was not one to show weakness often and for him to do so right now, she had a feeling this had been eating away at him for awhile. “Here, come with me.” Taking his arm, she quickly brought him down into the barracks and then into her room shutting the door behind them. “Talk,” She said, pushing him to sit down on the futon and taking a seat right next to him.

Hitsugaya was quiet as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on bent knees. “There are some… doubts about my ability to become a captain,” He began. “Since Captain Shiba left, I thought I could be the next captain. He’d always say I was bound to be captain after him but… I never thought it’d be this soon.”

“He believed in you for a reason, Toshiro,” She said. “I’m sure he saw how your determination, intellect, and talents would do great things for the division. And between Shiba and Matsumoto, you’ve been captain in every capacity but in name.”

He scoffed and shook his head, “I don’t think I’ll become captain with administrative skills alone.”

“No, but you have mastered your bankai. That has to say something, right?”

Hitsugaya shrugged. “‘Mastered’ might be too strong a word,” He said. “I can use it for about eight minutes but after that…”

“That’s still more than most. I don’t even know my bank’s name.” She wasn’t getting through to him. She could see him curling further and further in on himself as his thoughts seemed to snowball. “Is this all because of what a couple people said?”

“A couple?” He scoffed, “Try just about everyone in the Soul Society. I’ve heard it all from ‘turning the 10th into a daycare’, to me ‘lying about having achieved my bankai’. Even members of my own division don’t want me as captain. How am I supposed to lead them, if they don’t want me?”

Hinamori scooted closer and wrapped her arms tightly around him like when they were kids. Normally, he’d just push her off and the fact that he didn’t spoke volumes to how much weight this exam was putting on him. She wished there was something she could do to get rid of everyones doubt about him because she believed so much in his ability, but she couldn’t. “Let’s go back to the 10th,” She said.

“Huh? But I thought you wanted to see the fireworks.”

She waved them off, “They’re just fireworks. And this is way more important.”

Rather than taking the long way back through roads that were now crowded, the two of them traveled by rooftop using shunpo to get there quickly. Making a quick stop at his quarters, he took his zanpakuto at her instruction before heading to the empty courtyard the division used for training. “What are we doing here?” He asked as she pushed him to stand in the middle of the yard before backing a good distance away and sitting down.

“Practicing your captain’s exam, of course,” She said.

“Huh?”

“You’re going to have three captains and the head captain you’ll have to demonstrate it to. So you’re going to pretend I’m the captains and show me what you can do.”

Hitsugaya’s face was vacant as he stared at her almost incredulous at the idea. “Do you even know how the exam works?” He knew of course but had been sworn to secrecy about the exam process.

“Nope. I’m just guessing.”

“This is ridiculous—“

“—No it’s not!”

“What if someone—“

“No one is here! They’re all at the fireworks.”

“But what about—“

“—Just show me already, Shiro!”

“Ugh! Fine,” He grumbled, drawing his zanpakuto. Looking at her across the yard, he suddenly felt a bit nervous having never shown anyone his bankai before. Taking a deep breath, he looked around to check that there was in fact no one around, before lowering himself into a fighting stance. “Bankai!”

The temperature dropped around them and ice crystalized across the yard as his reiatsu flowed evenly from his body. Ice formed across his shoulder into a pair of wings that spread wide, with a crystal tail at the base of the juncture where the two wings met and his legs and right arm were encased in ice. Hitsugaya stared across to the other end of the yard where Hinamori sat quietly taking it all in with a wide smile.

“Wow, you’re amazing, Shiro!” She said, standing and taking a few steps closer before stopping. “Um, can I come closer?”

He nodded and watched her smile broaden before she trotted over to him and circled around him. He felt her eyes on him and for the first time in a while didn’t mind the intensity of her stares. Maybe it was because she was one of the only ones to believe in him, or maybe it was just because it was her. Either way, he wouldn’t mind if she stared at him like that again.

Coming to stand back in front of him, she reached out and gently touched one of his wings. “It’s so cold,” she said.

“It’s ice, dummy,” He said with a roll of his eyes.

“It’s so amazing though.”

Overhead, the sound of the fireworks beginning drew both their attentions skyward. The bright colors illuminated the sky but from where they were they couldn’t see them. An idea popped into his head and he found himself speaking before properly thinking it through. “Um, you know these wings aren’t just for show. I actually can fly with them.” Hitsugaya felt his cheeks heat with the unspoken suggestion and turned his body sideways to avoid her laughter.

To his surprise, she took a sharp intake of breath and grabbed his shoulders. “We can watch the fireworks from the sky!” She said. Her excitement, too much for him to even consider denying.

Opening his arms, she gladly wrapped her arms about his neck and he held on tight to her before using his wings to thrust them skyward. She screamed at the sudden speed with which he took off and held on tighter before erupting into giggles as he reached a point in the sky where he was level with the fireworks taking place at the Fifth. He felt her head lean onto his shoulder as they watched and he felt himself smile. He paid the fireworks little attention, focused only on her, taking in her smile, her relaxed breaths, the small ‘ooh’s and ‘ahh’s she’d say after particularly interesting fireworks went off. Time faded into a single moment that he longed to stretch out as long as possible.

After the last of the fireworks had ended, Hitsugaya slowly brought them back to the ground and he released his bankai. “That was amazing, Shiro,” Hinamori said, hugging him tightly.

“I’ll say.”

The two friends broke apart and looked over to the entrance to see Captain Aizen standing there, his gentle smile easing them into a sense of calm.

“Captain Aizen! I thought you’d be at the party.” Hinamori said, torn between leaping to his side or staying at her friends side.

Aizen gently raised his hand in a calming gesture that made it clear there was nothing to worry about. “I was for awhile. But then I was wondering where my wonderful lieutenant who planned the whole thing had run off to.” He smiled as he walked closer to the two of them. “I wanted to thank you for all the effort you put into this day.”

Hinamori beamed under the praise and bowed respectfully to her superior. “It was nothing really. Everyone helped out. We all wanted to show our appreciation for you.”

Aizen placed his hand on her head affectionately, “Still, your passion and attention to detail are much appreciated by me personally.” He looked over to Hitsugaya and folded his hands in the sleeves of his shihakusho. “Third seat Hitsugaya.”

“Sir,” Hitsugaya bowed stiffly.

“Your bankai looks quite impressive.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Aizen leaned closer to him, “You know, I’m not supposed to tell you this, but I’ll be one of the captains observing you at the exam.” He stood back to his full height. “I look forward to seeing what you can do, future Captain of the Tenth Division.” With one final nod at the two of them, he took his leave, walking leisurely away from the barracks.

Once he was out of sight, Hinamori grabbed him by the shoulders and squeezed him tightly. “See? Even Captain Aizen thinks you’ll do great!” She said, smiling and laughing with joy.

Hitusgaya felt himself smile as he wrapped his arms around her as well. His nerves were still there but the doubts in his head had quieted. He was going to become the captain of the Tenth Division. And no matter what anyone says, he’ll work hard to prove he is worthy of that title.

[deputyclover]

Duel

*Clover enters the room.

Cultist 1: Welcome Clover, you've done well so far!

Cultist 2: You've done well on your journey!

Cultist 3: You becoming a shadow demon, yes we still remember everything after that load.

Cultist 4: And that pr*ck like you, but short, killing me.

Cultist 5: AND THIS!

*The Cultist is holding Clover's severed left arm.

IS THE LAST PIECE OF THE PUZZLE!!!

*The Cultist Leader takes the arm.

Cultist Leader: This will give me the strength to kill you.

*The Cultist Leader throws it into a pot then drinks the potion.

THIS IS YOUR LAST STAND.

Clover: Bring it on.

*Clover's arms and weapons are prepared.

CL: YOU IGNORANT FOOL! YOU'LL DIE WHERE YOU STAND!!!

CLASH!

*Clover and the leader clash weapons.

C: You'll be a fool if you think you'll win!

CL: I don't think I'll win, I KNOW I'LL WIN!

*The cultists approach the fight all at once but they're all knocked out by flurries of arms.

C: Your mates don't seem to be doing well!

CL: NO MATTER!

*The Leader kicks Clover back and rips his shirt off, revealing all of his scars.

YOU'LL DIE SOON ENOUGH!

*The Cultist stabs Clover.

2/40 HP

C: Ugh...

*A scroll falls onto Clover's head.

1/40 HP

*Clover opens the scroll and speed reads while the Leader gains power.

The Mighty Pheonix Spell, used only when in dire need...

I'll forever be changed, to save them all. Mom, Justice, Both Purples, Hope, Infinitrix, Whisper, Willow and co. I'll forever love you guys...

ALL RIGHT B*TCH! YOU HAVE ONE FINAL CHANCE TO END THIS!

CL: YOU WILL PERISH CHILD! YOU ARE OUT OF TIME! THIS BOOK IS AT IT'S END!

C: Maybe... But another one is starting.

XINEOHP!

*A flash of light engulfs the room and destroys the camera.

YOU'LL NEVER BEAT ME CHILD! NOT EVEN BECOMING AN IMMORTAL PHOENIX CAN STOP YOU FROM BEATING ME!

Yes I can, AND I WILL!

*The Phoenix makes a loud caw and the Cultist Leader is sent to hell without dying.

*The Phoenix stands alone and leaves the room.

*He is unrecognizable through all forms of thought.

*Clover's clothes are on the floor, not being used.

*To all, it seems like Clover is dead.

//there's your character development, the ultimate sacrifice

[dragonologist-phd]

For Lilith: 👻 for a scene when they were scared

thank you!

Send a symbol for a scene from my muse’s childhood

👻 for a scene when they were scared

(warning for abusive situations)

The mace is cold and heavy in Lilith’s hands as she lifts it from the training bench. It takes every ounce of discipline within her to hold back a grimace as she raises the weapon and dutifully takes her position across from her fellow student. She is sparring against Felix today, which is quite unfortunate; at fourteen years of age, he is the oldest in the class and easily the most likely to win in games of brute strength. The other students stand against the far wall, watching and waiting their turns, and Lilith cannot help but wish that one of them had been chosen for this first match.

It is not the sparring itself Lilith minds. She’s adept at fighting, when she is allowed to be. But her strength comes from magic, from cunning. Straightforward weaponry has never been her strongest skill, and the blunt, brutal maces favored by the Asmodean Church seem especially inelegant in her hands. Her preferences matter little, of course; Inquisitors must use weapons, and if she is to be one, she must learn.

Instructor Brigia watches impassively as the two combatants fall into place. Outside of the training grounds, she wears the typical uniform of the Inquisitors: dark robes paired with masks of iron. The mask is intended to be a means of intimidation, but the removal of it does little to make her expression more inviting. She has never observed their sparring sessions before; she never bothered, not when they were young.

But now this class has ascended to the upper ranks. Now, they are worthy of higher notice. Lilith tightens her grip on her weapon and resolves to prove herself, no matter her disadvantage.

Instructor Brigia is silent as she watches her students prepare, and when they are ready, she gives a stiff nod and a single word. “Begin.”

Naturally, Felix is the one to make the first move. He charges in without hesitation, and Lilith is immediately forced into a defensive position as she dodges his persistent blows.

The fight is sickeningly short. Lilith’s mace is knocked from her hands with a blow that leaves her fingers stinging, and by the time she regains her footing, Felix is already looming over her, his own weapon paused mid-swing, hovering inches from Lilith’s chest.

Humiliation burns within Lilith as the moment stretches out. The Instructor should be calling the match in Felix’s favor now that she’s been disarmed, but no such call comes. Is she being made an example of? Will her failure be held out before the other students, that they may learn from her misstep? It would not be the first time.

She can only wait, stewing in her defeat, until Felix finally wavers and glances to the Instructor.

Instructor Brigia gives no indication that anything is amiss. Stone-faced as ever, she tilts her heads and prompts, “Well?”

Another moment of silent confusion passes, and she releases a low sigh. She nods toward Lilith and says, “Finish the fight. Incapacitate your opponent.”

Lilith understands immediately, and the embarrassment and frustration within her sharpens into cold fear.

She was right. She is being made an example of.

Felix takes a moment longer to catch on. “I…I already won, Instructor.”

“You have won nothing yet. Incapacitate your opponent.” Instructor Brigia’s gaze flickers from Felix, to Lilith, to Felix again. “We have healers in the temple if needed. Do not make me repeat myself again.”

Somehow Felix still doesn’t seem able to grasp her words, but his idiocy is Lilith’s gain. He is still looking at the Instructor when she strikes, bare-handed but determined. She barely fazes the larger student, but she does manage to grab hold of his arm, and she knows her only option is to wrest the weapon from his grip.

But even with the element of surprise, Lilith is still a head shorter than her opponent. He takes hold of her by the back of her robes and throws her to the ground, and this time, there is no hesitation when he comes at her with his mace.

Lilith has a split second to decide what to do- and she decides that she will not simply lie here and make herself an easy target. Rules be damned.

She lifts her hands to meet Felix’s assault, her palms already full of fire pulled straight from her veins. He screams as the magic makes contact and the scent of burning flesh fills the air, and he swings blindly in retaliation. With the burns spreading up his arms he has no chance of aiming well, but his frantic attacks catch Lilith’s right hand, slashing her pam open and wrenching her fingers back with the force of the blow. Lilith brings her other hand back around, delivering a ball of fire with it, and Felix screams again as he is thrown back by the force.

Lilith staggers back up to her feet, just in time for Instructor Brigia’s voice to cut coldly through the chaos.

“Stand down.”

The Instructor approaches Felix’s fallen form and leans down to inspect him, the barest hint of disappointment crossing her features. “A paltry performance, but we don’t wish to damage him beyond repair, do we? Somebody escort this one to the infirmary. And as for you…”

Instructor Brigia leaves Felix behind and approaches Lilith, who automatically straightens her back to stand at attention. Blood drips from her hand, but she doesn’t move from her position as she braces herself for admonishment.

“Good work.”

A shocked breath of relief escapes Lilith’s lips, but before she can say anything, Instructor Brigia has taken hold of her shoulder and steered her to face the other students. “I hope the rest of you were paying attention. You are students now, but one day soon, you will be fighting in the real world. In the real world, there can be no hesitation. The heathens you face will take any opportunity to turn against you. Do not give them the chance.”

“You have all been deemed worthy of advancement in our ranks, and that means that you should be able now to apply this lesson in your training…just as Lilith has.”

Pride swells in Lilith’s chest at the praise, even as her fear-fueled adrenaline fades and the throbbing in her hands suddenly threatens to overwhelm her. She bites down a gasp, and Instructor Brigia glances down at her. The Instructor holds out her own hand in silent command, and Lilith forces herself not to flinch as she offers up her injury.

The healing is almost as painful as the initial attack. Lilith’s skin seethes as it stitches itself together, and the bones of her fingers twitch and crack as the Instructor forces their mending. When she is done, however, Lilith’s hand is good as new- save for two of her fingers, which remain painfully bent and crooked.

Lilith bites down hard on her tongue to prevent a whimper from slipping out as Instructor Brigia brushes a thumb against the fingers. In a thoughtful voice, she says, “These will be treated tomorrow. That means twenty-four hours from now and not a second sooner. Let it be a lesson to improve your melee skills. You may have won, but it was a sloppy victory, and there is no pride in that. The next time you spar, I expect to see a refined technique. Understood?”

Lilith nods and slowly withdraws, every fiber of her resolve focused on keeping the shakiness out of her hands and her voice. “Understood, Instructor. I will not fail.”

[deepsoulzinefreak]

Here’s a kobylu thing because I’m bored and need so kind of dopamine rush

Cobylu Au: Monkey D. Ace

A child’s fate hang in times hand

“AAAAAHHHHHHH!”

It was a warm spring midday, when a loud crash was here on the deck, smoke covered whatever it was. Some of the crew prepared for battle, as coughing could be heard. The smoke clearing around the ‘thing’ the crew were about to jump into action, there stood a kid?

“Okay…what the hell?” Nami said putting away her staff and walking up to the kid, but suddenly the kid threw a right hook, which she narrowly dodged, the force of which felt like the air itself was trying to knock her out, it’s fast yet familiar…? “Stay away!! you-you jerk!” The kid said with a look of panic in their eyes.

“…”

Seconds felt like hours as the kid realized who they had almost hit. “Auntie Nami???!????” The kid screamed, falling to the floor and scooting away from her. “I’m so so so so sorry!!” The kid starting to tear up, bowing down as soon as possible. A loud crash is heard as the force of the bow made their head accidentally make a small hole on the deck. “Oops…?” The kid said scooting back a little further.

Their notable pink hair striking against the white shirt and blue shorts they were wearing. “I didn’t know how far I skipped back or forward!” The kid lifting up their head revealing big hazel-brownish eyes and teal ascot around his neck. The kid had major baby face so it was kinda hard to pin point their age. ‘Pink hair…?’ Luffy thought. “Wait…Auntie?!” Nami said in a slightly shrill voice.

Another look of realization hits their face as they stand back up. Looking puzzled, they started to circle Luffy. It took a few moments before the kid piped up again. “Wait…what do you think about papa?” The kid asks with suspicion in their eye. The hell do they mean ‘papa’ Nami thought. Robin looking on with amusement clear as day on her face. “…How should I know???” Nami yelled, confused at the kid’s words. she doesn’t even know the kid, why would she know or care? With a smirk the kid flipped into the air, landing on a standing barrel. Stumbling slightly before gain back their balance.

“I am Monkey D. Ace and I’m gonna be the best marine in the whole world!!!” The kid screamed at the top of their lungs. “And one day I’m gonna surpass my dad, the king of the pirates, Monkey D. Luffy!!” The kid then jumped down and sniffs the air. getting a look only one family is known for. ‘Oh my it really is Luffy’s’ Robin thought, containing a giggle that was surfacing.

“…”

The crew just staring at them. ‘There’s no way in hell that Luffy know how to even make a kid’ most of the crew thought. “…So…y’got any grub? I’m hungry as heck!” Ace said with a smile wider than a bus. ’Oh my god that’s definitely Luffy’s’ Franky thought. He was about to ask a question to the kid but-

“Huhhhhhh?????????” Luffy said with a shout, whipping right by the kid. “I’m your WHAT?????” The kid shuffling back a few steps. He opens with a sigh.

“Wow, I knew you were dumb back then but I didn’t know you were this dumb”

“That doesn’t answer my question kid?!”

“You’re my dad…does that answer it?”

“Ummmm, but I don’t have a kid???”

“You do in the future”

“Oh…ok then”

Huhhhhhh??????

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN ‘OK THEN’ YOU ROCKS FOR BRAIN???!!!??” Nami said with anger in her eyes, hitting Luffy over the head. The ki-no Ace hit the deck and sought cover from Nami’s fury. Trying to sneak away Ace crawls right into Zoro’s shoes, finding a sword in their face. Ace pinching their nose ‘Oh right I forgot that uncle really didn’t like taking baths back in the day’

“Woah there uncle Zoro, you need to chill” Ace said nervously. “Uncle? Kid I don’t even know who you are” Zoro said an unreadable look in his eyes. “Wow…ok then…your not gonna be my favorite uncle anymore! How’s that!”

Ace standing up through not even coming up to zoro’s waist they sucker punching him where the sun don’t shine. Zoro falling over, Ace making a run for the kitchen. “Chi chi chi chi~ that what you get for underestimating me!” They said sticking their tongue out.

“That littl-“ just then sanji kicked the kitchen door open “Nami-swan~, Robin-chan~ I have new drinks I’d love for you to try~!!” He said in a loverboy daze. “Too slow auntie sanji!!” Ace dart straight for the fridge, opening heaven itself, but before they could start raiding the fridge—

BONK!!

“Ace…since you have these new powers we should really need some kind of code so you know when you are..”

“Don’t worry about it papa! I’m tough and smart enough to know what to do!”

“I know sweetheart but I feel better just in case, please for me?”

“Hmmmm…fine…”

The pink hair man whisper as Ace laugh. His smile is making the kid think that putting up with his paranoia worth it. A door slams as the dark haired man comes in with a few desserts already half-eaten. Ace would kill to have this last forever.

Coming back to their senses, Ace strains against the rope the were now tie up with. “So the little shits awake” said the voice who they recognized as zoro’s voice. They slowly opened their eyes seeing all of the strawhats looking down on them. A tear slips by without his consent. ‘Man I missed them already…it hasn’t even been that long’ Ace thinks then chastising themself for it. ‘How can I get out of this mess…’

‘Well shit…I guess I have to use plan 5d’ Ace thought, biting their lips, they sniffle “WAAAHHHHHHH!!! I WANT MY DADDY!!!” The (totally) fake tears falling down their face. “I DON’T KNOW YOU PEOPLE!!!!!! WAHHH!!!! HELP ME ANYONE!!!!!!” Usopp just tsked. He facepalms and gets on the kid’s level. His stare is stern yet kind, it reminds Ace of their papa.

“Give it up kid, that won’t work on us, so might as well give up” and not second later Ace stoped crying and just stared at Usopp. “You were always too good at seeing through my fake crying uncle Usopp” Ace said pouting. ‘And definitely only that and not the fact that uncle was always super kind and awesome’ Ace thinks to themself.

“Ok Usopp do your liar magic” Nami said with a sigh. She already too tired for this, one day where everything was gonna to be peaceful and pleasant. She even got Luffy to calm down for the day with meat, begging, and promises that she wasn’t planning on keeping. Usopp cleared his throat.

“Ok kid tell us your name”

“Ugh! You guys really don’t listen, huh??!! My names Monkey D. Ace! The future best marine in the world!!”

“Hmm, Ok how old are you Ace?”

“I’m seven but don’t underestimate me or else!!”

“…Who is your dad Ace?”

“Ughhhhhhh, I told you guys! It’s Luffy”

“Ok, last question…how are you here?”

“I ate the time time fruit and accidentally shot too far in the past…I just wanted to eat breakfast again”

“Okay…well if you need me I’ll be laying down” Usopp said in a weird daze trying to get to the barracks. ”Oh no you don’t! Where do you think your going?” Sanji said.

“Tell the kid to stop lying!!” He was clearly annoyed. “I can’t cause they aren’t lying” Usopp stated, looking in the middle of a internal conflict. “You guys think I would lie about this!?” There’s no way in hell!!” Ace was offended by the statement.

“Well…I knew that uncle Usopp was the smartest out of all of you but still…” Ace said even more annoyed than sanji. Robin giggled at the statement. “Oh are we now? Please enlighten us on what we don’t know little one”

They smiled wide with a hardy laugh to follow “Wow dad was right about you uncle robin…you’re so strange!” Ace smiles wider as the crew heard a snap of the rope.

“This is why papa says that all of the strawhats were weird! Chi chi chi chi~” the kid still sitting down on the floor. “You guys tied up a random kid because they were ‘suspicious’” Ace barley keeping their laughter under raps.

“Oi! How dare you call this beautiful lady weird! I punt you space you little devil!!” Sanji said his annoyance turning to anger. “Calm down auntie Sanji don’t worry about them…honestly I thought you’d be more insulted that I called uncle zoro over weird~” Ace trying to see how much they could push.

“…Why would care?????” Sanji questioned. “Cuz auntie you and him are marrie-oh shoot I shouldn’t have said that…forget about all of that will you?” Ace internally facepalming themselves. “Oh that’s Luffy’s alright..” Nami finally saying with a sigh.

Meanwhile, both Sanji and Zoro are in shock as still as a stone. Ace stands up and walks over to Nami. “Auntie Nami can I please have some food? I’m so so super hungry!!” And Just like that, a sleeping Luffy has awaken from his little nap.

“Food?! I’m super hungry!!”

“You and me both dad!”

“Sanji!! Cook us something quick!!”

“Ya auntie!!”

“…”

“…fine”

Sanji just sighed getting up and heading to the kitchen but stopping and turned with a serious look on his face starring in to Ace’s eyes. “If you really are from the future, tell me this and tell it loud…” he pauses to take a drag from his cigarette. “So….who is it?” Ace stares blankly.

“Who is what?” Taking another drag he yells. “WHO IS THE LOVELY LADY THAT THIS LUCKY BASTARD GETS WITH!!” Pointing to Luffy how was currently trying to drag Sanji in to the kitchen so he could start cooking.

“I d-don’t know…?” Ace said looking away and puffing out their cheeks. ‘Oh my god it really is Luffy’s kid…’ Everyone internally facepalming as the thought enters their minds like a car crashing into a signpost. “Ugh ‘I don’t know’ my ass kid!!” Sanji firm in place, looking like he was about to explode.

“I can’t tell or it might hurt the future!!!” Ace said smiling, looking on the verge of laughter. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN HURT THE FUTURE YOU LITTLE SHIT?!” Sanji’s eyes flamed with rage.