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#so the day after was supposed to be the substitute
Moonlight -x- Sunlight
ch.4 -- Senjuro (cw// banner has flashing text!)
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r.kyojuro/f.reader
genre: modern!au, teacher!kyojuro by day/demonslayer by night, izakayaworker!reader, slowburn?, romance, angst
warning(s): slight mention of bullying :(
w.count: 5k
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a/n: *blows so much dust off this thing after i shelved it for a year* Go ahead and revisit the other chapters via the INDEX for your refreshers if you'd like lol
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It had been two weeks since you had seen Rengoku. Your ankle had healed, and you were once again fully mobile- much to your relief. You weren’t sure how much more limping around with a cane or crutch you could take. After your ankle healed and you got the all-clear from Kocho, you went through the hoops of making her your primary physician.
You hadn’t ever met a doctor you could be so comfortable around- though the whole bonding over being attacked by a demon probably had everything to do with that. Still, you were pleased with your new doctor, nonetheless. Not to mention, giving your money to a smaller business worked more for your morality than signing it all away to a huge corporation like a hospital that already had more than enough business on its side. 
Rengoku never went a day without sending you texts. You had a feeling he did this with all his friends and acquaintances; texting you a ‘very good morning!’ or asking when you’d be getting off work at night and to be careful on the way. You find it pretty cute. Finding a man as well rounded, optimistic and diligent in the ways of keeping in touch wasn’t exactly something you’d consider common; especially since he didn’t use any sort of abbreviations and spoke in fully formatted sentences like he was standing right in front of you.  
Apparently, with midterms and exams coming up, he’s been busy keeping his students occupied and prepping them for passing grades. That, alongside any extra tutoring lessons or occasional substitute gigs has his days packed. 
“Being a teacher must be tough,” you had thought to yourself during one of your many threads where he explained such things.  
You remember the second time Kaname showed up to your house unannounced. Luckily you were home when he landed on the branch outside your window. Though, that didn’t stop you from being startled at the big black mass that landed and pecked at the window to your living room. You were confused as he hopped right on inside when you opened the glass window before he flew to your couch and just sat himself on the arm of it. You didn’t see anything attached to his leg like before- which would’ve been odd since Rengoku had literally texted you earlier- so you were wondering why he was there in the first place. 
Then your phone dinged.
(Rengoku): Per chance, you haven’t seen Kaname flying around, have you? 
Clearly, Rengoku was also unaware that his crow was hanging around your place. The picture you sent him of the black bird leisurely resting in your living room had him calling you for the first time. It was comical, hearing his voice over speaker phone to reprimand Kaname as if the crow would actually understand what was being said to him and reflect on his actions. 
It obviously didn’t work since the next day Kaname was once again pecking at your window as you got ready to leave the house to run some errands. And you continued to allow him inside. Enabling this behavior is probably the opposite of what Rengoku wanted from his work crow, but were you just supposed to sit and stare at that poor, needy bird out your window? No. Of course you weren’t. 
You were sat on the ground by your door, pulling on your shoes when Kaname had cawed behind you. You made a small noise of surprise before you felt his talons land on the shoulder of your jacket. His added weight on your shoulder and his black avian body perched on you was something he hadn’t done before, but you smiled at the fact this bird was getting more and more comfortable with you. Of course, you would then remember that this was a working bird, and he wasn’t exactly yours. 
“You want to come out with me?” Kaname cawed with a small flap of his wings as if he truly understood your question and was giving you an answer. “Alright. You’ll have to stay outside when I’m in stores though, okay?” Another small flap of his wings. 
You stand and grab your bag, going through the checklist of what you’ll need leaving the house. Phone. Wallet. Keys. And whatever else your bag had hiding inside it. With an impulsion decision, you pull out your phone and take a picture of Kaname resting on your shoulder before sending it to Rengoku- who was probably still working since it was still early afternoon- and slipping your phone in your pocket. 
“Remember to behave, Kaname,” you tell the crow one more time before you leave the house with him remaining perched on your shoulder. 
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You thought that having Kaname perched on your shoulder was a cute thing. It showed that he liked you and had- to some degree- grown to trusted you. Having a little friend around for Taco to chase was a bit of an annoying exercise sometimes since the feline must’ve felt jealous. Or that's how you justify the way Taco would crawl up your legs to try and get the same level of attention at the crow. Still, having a smart corvid hang around willingly made you feel… magical? For lack of better terms. If this is what witches in the woods in fairy tales felt like you were more than willing to commit to the bit. 
That is, it’s all comfortable in the comfort of your home. The moment you stepped outside, you could feel the eyes of all the people also on the street focused on you. People from across the street giving you looks like you wouldn’t notice. Kids on playgrounds in the park you had to cross definitely had your face growing warm with the cheers of “that ladies got a big bird on her!”. 
It's silly how you had completely forgotten that it wasn’t exactly a normal, everyday thing to witness.  Still, Kaname remained unbothered. Lucky him. 
It wasn’t like you could shoo him off now. That would’ve made you feel more guilty than embarrassed. No, you couldn’t do that to him. So, instead of acting like a bitter woman, you just lifted your hand and used the back of your fingers to lightly ruffle his feathers just under his beak. His nuzzle into your hand as you gave him attention sealed the deal. 
When you get to the first store you need to stop at- a department store- you point to a small, city planted tree that sat in its own little square of dirt surrounded by brick that really needed to be upkept a bit better. 
“Now, you remember our agreement?” You talk face to face with the bird in broad daylight, not acting like a loon in the least. Still, Kaname bellows back to you like he was agreeing. “Good. I won’t be long.” You turn your back on your trusted corvid pal before you’re walking through the automated glass doors of the store. 
True to your word, you were in and out as quick as you could be- or in this case, as quick as the newly trained cashier who was stressing out over their first real day could go. You made sure to give a quick “you’re doing great” on your way out. When the same automated doors- with a few new smudges from strangers who couldn’t resist touching the clean glass- reopen to let you back outside, you see a small gaggle of teenagers. They surround the same, wimpy looking city planted tree you had left Kaname in, and with their phones out were snapping photos and a video of the cawing bird. 
For a bird, he sure had a lot of personality. Though, you supposed that all birds did in one way or another and crows were already smart to begin with. Though, you felt irritated as they all hovered around him like some sort of attraction. 
Stepping off to the side, you get out of the way of the entrance before you’re calling him. You figured that the kids would probably keep filming and snapping photos, so you turned your back to them before calling him back. Kaname would know the back of your head anyways. 
“Kaname,” you speak clearly. It wasn’t loud, but just enough to be heard over the bustle of the afternoon traffic. The crow’s head twitched before his wings unfurled and he was gliding gracefully over to your shoulder that he favored. With another quick finger pet on the crown of his bowed head, you start off again. You ignore the teens who were hollering after you, feeling like an attraction just as Kaname had been treated as. 
When you finally don’t hear them anymore and make it to a section of street that isn’t so thick with people that you’re stepping on each other, you pat Kaname affectionately on his beak that he once again nuzzles into. 
“I’m sorry about them. Your picture is probably going to be floating around school campus’s now.” Maybe he understood, maybe he didn’t. You didn’t speak crow, so his cawing back to your linguistic woes didn’t spark much need to keep talking. 
You continue your errand running in much the same fashion. Window shopping here, stepping into a small shop there, always leaving Kaname somewhere to wait for you- although this time higher than eye level so he wouldn’t be as bothered by the public. It was when you had just finished your final store run when you felt Kaname tug at your hair after riding on your shoulder for a while. 
“Ow!” You whine when his beak snags some of your hair and tugs on it. You turn to him to try and him to quit it when you see a familiar combination of blond and red. Though, it was atop a much smaller body. 
A small boy, maybe high school aged, has that same flame styled hair that you recognize. He was stuck between two other boys, one with his arms slung around Rengoku’s(?) shoulder. The other was hovering around like he was herding him. The boy who resembled Rengoku looked so uncomfortable that when they rounded a corner, your body just took off after them. 
You were right to trust your instincts. 
The two were classic, low-grade bullies from the look of things. Taking the smaller Rengoku’s bag and shifting through it like they were looking for something. You didn’t even realize that now is the time that schools had released their students for the day. You wanted to help but had no idea how to start. Shouting maybe? A strong Hey! would surely get their attention and maybe little Rengoku, who may not even be related (somehow), could slip away in the distraction. 
Luckily, Kaname disrupted your brainstorming and created an opportunity for you. 
With a loud and crass and angry sounding caw, his wings opened, and he flew towards the two bullies like a graceful, winged bullet. His talon’s had landed in the nest of hair of the boy who had the little Rengoku’s bag, effectively making him drop it. With another warning caw, jumps off his head- taking a few stray hairs with him, and flew up and swooped back down to attack the other boy’s skull with small pecks of his beak. You were in awe. Kaname didn’t even need your help defending the bullied victim! Still-
“Hey!” Your original plan of just shouting was definitely more effective when you had an aggressive black bird on your side. Kaname stopped his pecking and flew back up into the air, circling around before he was landing on your shoulder. His eyes that were gentle and relaxed before were now narrowed and attentive. “Leave that boy alone and get out of here,” you command with your stance wide, and arms crossed with your errand shopping bags hanging in the crux of your elbow. You knew that it wasn’t your demeanor that sent the brats packing, but the aura of the angry corvid that added a boost to your intimidation. 
When they were out of sight, you let out a sigh and you felt Kaname relax too. Uncrossing your ams, you jog over to the boy who was now gathering the things that had fallen out of his backpack. Kneeling on the ground with him, you place your bags down and put your hand gently on his shoulder to get his attention. 
“Hey,” you say again, much softer this time than before when you bellowed it. “Are you alright?” You ask. 
The boy nods and his completely tied back hair, aside from the front strands, bounce as he does. You hear him hum in affirmation too. He did a bad job of convincing you that he was really okay. Still, you give him a moment to collect himself. 
“You’re name,” you start as you pick up a stray pencil that had rolled away from him, “it’s Rengoku, isn’t it?” You were near positive. After all, who else could look so closely related to the Rengoku that you know? When he lifts his head and the eyes that also resemble the ones you know was proof enough. 
“Yes?” He sounded nervous. Rightfully so. You’re quick to defend yourself. 
“Oh! I just- well, you look a lot like someone I know, so I just took a wild guess.” Rengoku had mentioned before that he had a little brother in high school. “He mentioned he had a kid brother once too.” The more you tried to save face, the more awkward the whole thing felt. 
Still, the little boy’s face seemed to relax at the mention of familiar individual. 
“You know my older brother?” 
“Sure do,” you reassure. Helping him pack away the rest of his fallen items into his bag, you pick up your own bags and walk with him back out onto the main street. “Where are you heading? Do you want me to walk you?” Your sudden offer must’ve flustered him since his cheeks went pink. You were still a stranger, so yeah, it was kind of weird. 
“I’m okay!” It sounded like he meant it that time, more so because he was embarrassed and blurted it out in such flustered conviction. “I’m just going home. I’m not far now.” 
You hum worriedly but give in anyway. Then, the familiar weight you had gotten used to on your shoulder departed. Kaname and swapped from you to rest on the head of the smaller Rengoku, using his blonde roots as a nest. You chuckle. Looks like he’d have a well-trained escort home, so you weren’t needed after all. 
“Alright, then. Be careful going home.” He bashfully nods before he’s walking away from you. With a small huff of anxiety for his safety, you check the time on your phone. “Oh, damn!” You curse to yourself before rushing back the way you had come. It had gotten so late that if you didn’t get home soon, you wouldn’t have time to feed and play with Taco before it got dark. He’d pout about that for days if you missed his usual ‘me time’! 
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Senjuro walks into the apartment he lives in with his older brother and let out a deep breath as he dropped his bag and sat to remove his shoes. Kyojuro, who had managed to come home earlier than usual by deciding to take the short, 15 question quizzes he had to grade back home with him instead of doing it on school premises, heard the familiar sounds of the front door opening, closing then locking. He didn’t need to go out tonight for demon slaying, so he had already changed into more comfortable clothes by the time Senjuro returned. 
Hair pulled off his neck with a hair tie that was fighting for its life and his reading glasses on the bridge of his nose. The sweater he wore was light in color with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows as his lazy, black pants kept his legs warm. The air conditioning was almost always running in the apartment since both boys always seemed to run a bit warming than others.
“You are back early today,” Senjuro greets when the older sibling stood behind him and helped him off the floor when he slipped into his house shoes. Senjuro often wore slippers inside since his feet were always so cold- his older brother was the opposite walking around the apartment barefoot. 
“It isn’t often I can spend so much free time at home,” Kyojuro answers. The two walk deeper into the house when Kaname flies inside and to the wooden perch Kyojuro had set up months ago for him to rest on in the living room. 
The apartment was small, but just enough for the two boys. When Kyojuro had moved out of his family home, he was insistent that Senjuro come with him. Their father wasn’t fit to raise the youngest right now and everyone knew it. 
The main space was open and spacious. A single three cushion couch was in the middle of the open area with a tv mounted on the wall. The small coffee table in front of the couch is scattered with items and random odds and ends that never made it back to their proper place. Behind the couch was a small table that could seat four and was currently covered in the quizzes Kyojuro was previously grading. Beyond the living room was a small kitchen that Senjuro was in charge of since his older brother could not cook to save his life. Just down the short hall were their respective bedrooms, an extra room Kyojuro uses for an office space and the bathroom. 
Just quaint enough for the Rengoku boys. 
Kyojuro took to gathering his graded and ungraded papers into piles so he could make room for the homework of Senjuro’s that would soon be replacing his own mess. He could finish in the office later- his little brother’s studies are more important and this way he could ask questions if he needed help instead of holing up in his room at his own desk. 
Hearing Kaname honk softly for a dried treat, Senjuro is quick to oblige. Kyojuro stops his gathering as he takes his glasses off to have them hang off the v-neck of his sweater instead and crosses his arms. He sets his sights on his faithful crow.
“Where have you been all day?” Kyojuro knew Kaname understood him, and he also knew he could get an answer if the bird felt like he wanted to. Senjuro, who had fed him his treat, ran his hands along his back with the flow of his feathers. Then, the mysterious woman he met today came to his mind. 
“Ani ue,” Senjuro calls out the formality of his brother even though he’s been told time and time again that he doesn’t need to. Still, Kyojuro answers with an acknowledged hum, pushing his slight annoyance at his crow aside. “Have you met a girl recently?” 
The question stuns Kyojuro for a second. Longer than a second actually. Really, the bout of silence that followed the innocent question was long enough to make the air awkward. 
“Could you be more specific?” Kyojuro asked in return. His mind went to a space that his little brother didn’t need to be meddling in. Meeting a woman like… romantically? Or was he just over thinking? 
“In terms of meeting someone new.” 
He was over thinking. 
“Ah,” moron. He curses to himself. “I see.” He racks his brain with a hand at his chin. He often meets all sorts of people at work. New substitute teachers come and go all the time. Maybe he meant one of them? Or maybe… 
Kyojuro’s eyes widen in epiphany as he looks back at Kaname. Senjuro had been in classes all day, as had he been. When he wasn’t busy with his job as messenger bird, Kaname often lazed here at home. There was only one place Kaname had been frequently disappearing to instead of staying in the comfort of his home recently. His arms dropped back down to his sides as he walked closer to his crow and brother. 
“Is there a reason you want to know?” Kyojuro sits on the couch and offers the cushion next to him as Senjuro takes it easily. Slightly facing each other, they carried on their conversation. 
“I dropped my bag on the street today,” Senjuro starts. Kyojuro knew that wasn’t the full truth. As much as he hated it, Senjuro was timid enough to be picked on by other kids and Kyojuro wasn’t always around to help him. “When I was picking up my stuff, this woman came to help me. She knew my name; said I looked like someone she knew.” Senjuro’s habit of picking at his nail beds started up and Kyojuro quietly pulled his hands away from each other. “Kaname was with her too. I was just curious.” 
Kyojuro looked into the wide, curious eyes of his little brother and smiled. He called for his crow, and Kaname easily made a home on the back of the couch between the two siblings. Kyojuro pet Kaname’s back and under his beak, alternating. 
“You were with y/n-san all day weren’t you?” 
“Yes!” The crow loudly cawed. 
“Don’t you go and forget where it is you actually live,” Kyojuro lightly reprimands. “And don’t go speaking around her either. You’ll scare the wits out of her cat.” He returns his attention back to his brother. “To answer your question from earlier now, yes. I do believe I’m familiar with the woman you ran into today." Senjuro took notice to the change in his brother's face. Did he know he was making such a softened expression? "She and I met recently.” 
Something in Senjuro’s eyes shined at the mention of you from Kyojuro’s mouth directly. Maybe it was because he didn’t need to worry about a stranger knowing who he was. Or maybe it was something else Kyojuro just wasn’t picking up on. Senjuro spent a little bit longer talking about you, how you had shopping bags, how Kaname was so comfortably hanging around you, and how you seemed like a nice person. 
Soon, the brother-on-brother chit-chat had to come to a stop. The sun would be setting soon and Senjuro still had homework to do and dinner to make. Kyojuro took his papers to his office and shut the door. Dropping his work on his desk, he flipped on the desk lamp before he sat himself in his chair. The leather creaked at his added weight and the chair reclined when he leaned back against it. 
Digging his phone from his pocket of his slacks, he stared at his reflection in the black screen. Kyojuro really wanted to thank you for helping Senjuro, but for some reason he couldn’t even tap on the screen of his smartphone to wake it up.
Kyojuro wasn’t a religious man, but he did thank whatever god had been watching him when the screen lit itself up with an incoming text. 
(y/n-san): Did Kaname make it back home? 
Kyojuro laughs out loud at your message. Senjuro hears it echo from the kitchen. Kyojuro would get his grading done first, then he'd set aside time for you.
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You jump out of your skin when, as you’re mindlessly browsing through your socials, an unexpected call jumps your phone to life in both vibrations and a loud ringtone you had always seem to forget the sound of. Fumbling your phone in your hands, you snatch it up before it could give way to gravity and hit the ground... or Taco who was resting on your lap. 
Seeing Rengoku’s name printed on your screen had you mentally lagging before you’re answering the call. Any later and it would’ve been dropped, then you’d be forced with the dilemma of if you call him back or just pretend it never happened. 
The sound of light white noise greets you for a moment as you bring the phone up to your ear. Then, you start off the call first. 
“Hello?” 
“Ah! You picked up!” He sounded excited. You mindlessly start petting through Taco’s fur as he still lay peacefully on your lap. “I’m glad. I was worried you may be busy given the time.” 
“That makes sense,” you agree. Any other night you’d be just about ready for work. “I have the night off tonight, so your timing works out.” 
“How fortunate!” You’ve never heard someone say those words without it being sarcastic before. He really sounded like he was relieved he wasn’t taking up your time. You smile as you lean back against the cushions of your couch and turn the tv you had on for background noise down. It was turned onto some random celebrity reality show or something, you weren't really paying attention to it. 
“Kaname did make it back safely to answer your earlier question. I apologize I couldn’t reply immediately. I was finishing up some work that I had already stopped in the middle of once.” 
“Don’t worry about it.” You shift your legs. Taco mewls in annoyance. “Was it for…?” You didn’t know how to ask if he was talking about his work in education or his demon slaying gig. 
“It was for my classes! Grading quizzes can take up a significant amount of my time. I was also helping my brother with some homework when he needed it!” 
You perk up at the mention of his brother.
“That reminds me,” you start, “I ran into him on the road today. I was out running errands when we met.” 
“Yes,” Rengoku's voice took on a softer tone, “that is one reason I wanted to call you.” You stay quiet. Unsure on what to say next. “Senjuro is a gentle child, so he is easily the target of people who feel the need to push other's around. I feel guilty that he doesn’t express to me all the things that happens, but you helped him out today, yes?” 
“Well, sort of. Kaname did most of the work if I’m being honest.” You stop and think about what happened right before you noticed the little Rengoku- who’s name you now know to be Senjuro. Kaname was tugging at your hair, almost like he was trying to get your attention to shift somewhere else. “Without him, I don’t know if I would’ve been able to chase off those brats myself. So, really the credit is all his.” 
You hear Rengoku chuckle on the other end of the line. It was easy to tell just by his voice and concerned tone alone that Rengoku really cared about his little brother. 
“Does your brother do any after school clubs?” 
“Pardon?” The question caught the flame-head off guard. 
“I just- and stop me if this is totally invasive- but I thought that maybe if he needed, I could check on him from time to time after school. Just to make sure he’s not being bullied?” Saying it out loud made you realize just how crazy you sounded.  It sounded like you were trying to butt into their lives! “I’m sorry. It’s just I’m usually free in the afternoons and all so-” 
“I’d appreciate that.” 
“Oh,” you breathe. You half expected him to kindly reject you as you shoved your foot further into your big mouth. “Really?” 
“Senjuro sometimes spends time in the school’s library until I’m ready to go home with him. On the days where he or I cannot go back home together, I do worry about him. I know he'll need to defend himself one day, but he’s still young.” 
There’s a bout of silence between you both for an uncomfortable amount of time. You wonder if the call disconnected at one point because it was so quiet. Still, the time recording the length of the call kept ticking up, so Rengoku was definitely still on the other line. 
“So,” you clear your throat. “Senjuro-kun likes to read?” 
“He does!” The pep is thrust back into his voice and you feel relieved. 
The call lasts for much longer than you anticipated. So long that Taco had gotten off your lap, paced around the couch twice, ran up and down the halls and whined for food all the span of it. You don’t remember the last time you had a long phone call that wasn’t work or business related. Even the few previous calls you've recieved from Rengoku weren't this drawn out. It was enjoyable.
You notice the numbers glaring at you from the clock of your living room and gasp. It was getting late. Really late. And Rengoku- even if he wasn’t working tonight- had classes tomorrow. 
“It’s getting late,” you find the next best gap in conversation and throw in the beginning of the end of the call. “Shouldn’t you be getting some rest? It wouldn’t be good for a teacher to be dead tired all day because he was up so late.” 
“Believe it or not, I’m not a morning person at all! Senjuro brews me coffee every morning since I tend to be grumpy from the long nights I should be used to by now.” 
You laugh at the image. You don’t think you’ve seen him frown once since you met him- even if it hasn’t been that long. 
“Even more reason to let you go.” You get up off the couch and stretch. As if predicting your moves, Taco races towards your room ahead of you. Of course, you’d wash up properly before joining your feline son. “I enjoyed talking to you, Rengoku-san.” 
“You don’t need to be so polite,” he insists. “Referring to me by name alone is just fine.” 
“You’ll need to drop the formalities with me too then. It’d be weird if I spoke casually with you, just for you to not.” 
“Deal.” 
“Good night, Rengoku.” 
“Sweet dreams, y/n.” 
The call ends. Even though you wash your face with cold water, your skin still feels warm in your palms. 
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a/n: wow i can't wait for next year when i get around to writing another chapter (is this satire? who knows)
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43 notes · View notes
whiskybravo · 1 year
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Verily, mood.
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ashwinmeird · 4 months
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“What’s wrong with him?” Robin asked as soon as she arrived.
Steve knew this was a pretty weird thing for her to walk in on even by Eddie in Steve’s presence’s usual standards. They were in Steve’s kitchen, Steve trying to make something not hard, crunchy, or sticky that Eddie would actually eat while Eddie had his two hands wrapped around Steve's bicep and eyes locked on the same spot.
“Dentist,” Steve said.
Robin watched them a moment longer as Eddie moved wordlessly with Steve around the kitchen. “Yeah,” she muttered, “I’m going to need more of an explanation than that.”
“He got that graft on his front bottom tooth, now he’s sore and is supposed to agitate the area as little as possible.”
“The joys of government insurance.” Eddie said it with a smirk that was immediately replaced with a wince.
Steve eyed him. “I’m letting you break the rule about staying off your feet, at least try not to do any damage this soon.”
“Dental work sucks,” Robin said in solidarity before turning back to Steve. “He’s doing this because he can’t bite you like he usually does?”
“Pretty much.”
“So he’s going to be like this for a while.”
Steve shrugged. “Dentist said about a week and he should mostly be back to normal but the post op isn’t ‘til a week after that.”
Robin nodded. “Avoid coming over here for the next week because you two are going to be even weirder and more tension-y than normal, got it.”
“What?”
Steve didn’t look at Eddie. Robin knew about Steve’s recently discovered feelings- ones that were probably not reciprocated- but she wouldn’t just reveal that in front of Eddie. She must just have been talking about how Eddie acted around Steve, but Eddie was just kind of weird.
“I’m going to work now.”
“But-“
“Bye, guys!”
Steve blinked as she scampered out of the kitchen. “Was she wearing my vest?”
Eddie didn’t respond, he kept staring at Steve’s arm longingly.
Steve walked them both back over to the freezer and handed Eddie his paper-towel-wrapped ice pack since it had been ten minutes since he last had it on.
Eddie took it without looking away from Steve’s arm.
“You really want to bite me don’t you?”
“Yes,” Eddie sighed.
Steve patted his shoulder, not really knowing how to properly comfort him. “Give it a day or two so you stop hurting as much then we’ll talk about it. Let’s go out to the couch and you can try eating some pasta once your time with Mr. Ice Pack is up again.”
Eddie begrudgingly ate some of the pasta Steve had so lovingly prepared for him. By hand, one noodle at a time like he always did because he could never eat anything the way it was intended.
“Thank you,” Eddie muttered into Steve’s neck. He had managed to fully wrap himself around Steve in the few minutes they’d been sitting on the couch, wriggling until he was satisfactorily koala-ed onto Steve.
“‘Welcome. Is this your substitute for biting me?”
Eddie pulled back so he could look Steve in the eye. “Maybe.”
“I’d let you bite me if it wouldn’t hurt you.”
“I know.”
Eddie didn’t look away. Neither did Steve. They didn’t speak, didn’t anything.
Just looked.
Eddie’s eyes dipped. Just once, only for a moment.
Steve froze.
Oh.
This was that tension Robin was talking about.
“There are- uh- other things we could do right now if it wouldn’t hurt you.” Eddie’s eyes widened. “Like kiss-“
Eddie clasped a hand over Steve’s mouth, leaning in so close their foreheads were touching. “Steven Harrington, are you kidding me?”
“I-“
“I have been flirting with you for months, practically using you as my chew toy, and you choose now, when I can’t do anything about it, to realize?”
Steve was trying his hardest not to break into a face-splitting smile when Eddie removed his hand. “Guess so?”
“You have awful timing.”
Steve leaned up to kiss Eddie on the forehead. “Sorry.”
“Keep doing that and maybe I’ll make it through this before kissing you.”
“Won’t that do the oppo-“
Eddie grabbed his face. “Don’t question me, kiss my head.”
| AO3 |
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igotanidea · 2 months
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Weekend came early: Jason Todd x reader
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WARNING: SMUT MDNI!
A/N: I wish you all happy, evenful weekend ;)
***
It was just teasing. Nothing more. She really didn’t plan for it to end up like this.
Or—
Given how good she knew Jason’s tendency to get jealous easily--
Maybe she actually did?
***
It was Friday evening, the best day of the week, since there was two free out-of-work days on the horizon. Days Jason and Y/N were supposed to spend together for the first time in forever. He promised her that – no fighting, no blood, no patching up injuries and no vigilante bullshit.
But.
His promise only encompassed Saturday and Sunday, never including Friday.
Friday was the day when – as usual he was going to go on patrol and beat the shit out of some thugs, while playing the anti-hero.
And that left Y/N forced to tend to herself. To take care of herself in every possible meaning  of the word.
“What are you up to?” he peeked into the bedroom, observing his girlfriend, who was currently sitting in front of the mirror putting on her makeup and doing her hair, which was surprising to say the least. Ever since they met each other, years ago, dolling up and Y/N were two words that had rarely fitted in one sentence. Of course, since she was a woman, mascara, eyeshadows, lipstick and all other  make-up stuff Jason didn’t know the name of, was coming in handy sometimes, but--!. What the hell was she doing dressing up while he was about to go out?! Why was her hair shiny and flowing down her shoulders and back like a waterfall giving away the most intoxicating smell of her shampoo? Why were her lips red and her eyes so fucking seductive, highlighted by the distinct make up he never saw her wearing before!? And that look she gave him upon hearing his words? That teasing smile that adorned her face?!
WHO THE FUCK WAS SHE DOLLING UP FOR?!
What?” she teased turning towards him with a glint in the eyes. “Can’t a girl look good for herself? Am I supposed to wear sweatpants and have tear stains on my face just because you are out red hooding?”
“YES!” he had to put a hell lot of effort to prevent himself from bursting out with all the rage boiling inside him. Instead he settled on clenching his fist as a substitute for punching the wall. “Yes, you’re supposed to be pretty only for me!” Jason couldn’t care less that he was sounding like a male chauvinist.
“Now that’s a little mean, don’t you think?” she grinned innocently, batting her eyelashes freshly mascara-painted “I thought I was pretty all the time, not only when—“
“DO NOT FUCKING PLAY WITH ME Y/N!” it was so hard to hold back all that rage, jealousy, fear and the sudden feeling of betrayal. Almost as if the upcoming taking on the role of the Red Hood was influencing his behaviour as Jason Todd, the boyfriend¸ who was  always caring and gentle and loving.
Huh, apparently not anymore…..
Y/N only rolled her eyes in response, absolutely unfazed by the sudden change of tone, quickly putting finishing touches and getting up from behind the dressing table. Allowing Jason to see her fucking dress for the first time.
“WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU GOING IN THIS!?”
That piece of material was barely covering her, but perfectly accentuated her body, all those ideally shaped curves in all the right places.
His curves.
Fuck, he could already feel himself growing, the tactical pants becoming tight in the places they were not supposed to at the moment. She was doing it on purpose cause it was impossible that after all those years together she was oblivious and this stupid.
“Something wrong, baby?” her hips swayed when she took a few steps forward and put her hand on his bare shoulder. Right, cause he was only wearing his pants and no chest armour and jacket when her unusual preparations caught his attention, causing him to emerge from the bathroom.
“Where the hell are you going?!” he hissed  moving away from her touch despite all the instincts telling him otherwise.
“Oh, you know it’s nothing, just—“
“I told you to not play with me.”
“And I told you repeatedly that I am not intimidated by –“
‘Well maybe you should be.”  Just one move of his almost got her cornered. Almost, being the key word here, since the girl saw right through him, capably sneaking away.
“Don’t act crazy Jason. I’m just going out to have some fun.”
“FUN?!”
“Yeah.” she said in a completely innocent tone reaching for her coat “with my other boyfriend”
Jason froze.
Only for a second though.
And then his blood boiled.
She said other boyfriend.
“What did you just say?” the atmosphere in the apartment turned from playful and teasing into serious and heavy in a blink of an eye. “How many other boys do you have?!”
“Three, currently. “
“THREE?!”
“Had more, but cut down when we started dating. Besides you’re still my favourite so I don’t understand why you’re so angry about it. You’re the best in bed and -“
“WHAT?!!”  Was she even serious!  If Jason was the best that meant she had something to compare. Which could have only indicated that Y/N-. “You slept with someone else other than me!?”
Just the thought of other man kissing her in a way only he was allowed to, was too much. And there was a clear indication that there was more than just kissing. Other man- men- touched her. Traced her body, felt her moving underneath him, heard her calling- moaning- his name, had her hands all over him. Tasted her in a way that was reserved only for him. For Jason Peter Todd. Her fucking boyfriend.  
 “No.” he hissed grabbing her wrist and spinning her to him before she reached the door. “No.” Y/N met with eyes filled with lust and rage.
“What are you--?” she stuttered feeling him press her into the wall, not doing anything explicit, yet, but observing her like a prey, leaving minimum space between their bodies, once again trying to intimidate her and making it work this time.
“You won’t allow anyone to do what I do to you.” He leaned to whisper in her ear, hot breath laced with possessiveness hit her face “You understand me princess?” the unexpected grip and caress on her hips caused a little shiver to run through her body. “You’re mine. M-I-N-E, baby…” 
“You’re—You’re not the boss of me—“ she whimpered making it a little less firm than intended.
“Oh, I am not the boss?” he smirked tightening the grip on her, running fingers over her side, hooking over the hem of her short dress, tracing over her smooth thigh. “Maybe I should show you otherwise then?”
“I’m going—“ Y/N squirmed reaching for the doorknob
“Oh baby, I’m not really letting you.” Her wrist was gripped and pinned back to the wall next to her side stopping her from any movement.
“Good luck stopping me-“
There was really no space for her to fight him anymore, with those vigilante eyes tuned in on the slightest change in her expression, but she was trying nonetheless.
“You really want me to let you go, baby?” his lips brushed her cheek, his body pressing more into her. “Let another man touch you? Kiss you? See what belongs to me?” Jason’s thigh pressed between her legs causing her instinctive reaction in the form of grinding on it. “are you going to sleep with him?” he lifted the hem of her dress, reaching fingers to the inside of her thigh getting the exact shiver he craved.
“Yes!” she squealed even though her behaviour didn’t match the words at all.
“No, baby.”  He smiled softly, but his eyes were brutal and it wasn’t hard to guess what was coming for her if she kept on pushing and defying any longer.
“Ye-“
She never finished that sentence, getting pressed into the wall as Jason’s strong body claimed hers. He was done being gentle, biting her bottom lip, lifting her dress all the way up, instantly tearing off her little fancy panties, grabbing the back of her thighs wrapping her legs around him.
Grinding into her heat with the urgency and power of a predator brought to extreme.
The kiss was brutal to say the least. Almost violent. Boosted by the thought of her in the arms of another man. He won’t ever let it happen. She was his.
His, his, his. Only his.
And he was not going to share.
“Jason—“ she whimpered, but he didn’t listen. He was already ripping the upper part of her dress of, biting her neck, moving lips over her collarbone, kissing the part of her breast that weren’t covered by the bra. Marking the soft skin, making sure to leave a reminder who she belonged to. In case she forgot.
“Shit…” she moaned pulling at his hair, tightening her legs on him, leaving a wet trail on the pants he still had on.
Those actions only spurred him on, pushing him to rip off her bra, not caring whether it might have been expensive or her favourite, it had to go. Her breasts and those already stiff, pebbled nipples being the main object of his interest at the moment.
“Mine.” He hissed with voice hoarse, deep, full of uncontrollable lust for her body, grabbing onto the soft bosom, palming it and squeezing mercilessly in primal need to see the hand-shaped bruises all over it. “mine”. The other breast was devoured with his lips and tongue that was capably tasting her nipple, flicking and licking in that perfect way that never failed to make her melt into him. He knew exactly where and how to touch to elicit the perfect sounds and turn them both on to the extreme. For example, he was fully aware that tracing one finger at her sensitive spot, just at the swell of her chest, close to the side would make her cry out in pleasure and get even more wet. Making it so much easier to slid inside later.
“Jason!!” she grinded on him, raking nails down his back, scratching and leaving red marks in their wakes. Her back arched to him, wanting rather to feel his warm, broad bare chest rather than cold hard wall he was relentlessly pressing her into, getting possessive, dominant in the need to trap her.
His mind was screaming with simple thoughts: Possess her. Own her. Devour her.  Fuck her brains out.
They were already high, not even getting to the best part yet. And damn, she was dripping from the need of him.
“Jason—“
“Yeah?” he gasped pulling back only to resume his touches, tracing over her thigh getting another string of desperate mewls, smirking in complacency. “what did you want to say princess….?”
“I—“
“I’m listening….” His lips moved higher, brushing over her breast, neck, jaw, moving towards her earlobe, which he bit lightly. “You have my whole attention…”
“Mhm…” she tried to reach to his zipper, but Jason couldn’t let her have what she wanted just yet. She need to be taught what exclusivity meant. “Need you—“
“I know baby…” he smirked again, grinding his hardness more into her. Her sobbing and pleading didn’t do much to change his mind
“Please!” she sobbed, trying once more to free him, but ending up with hands pinned above her head completely helpless and at his mercy. She awoken the animal.
“Say my name princess.”
“Jason!”
“who do you belong to!?”
“You!” she moaned through the tears of need, burning from the desire to feel him, touch him, aching for the sensation only he could bring her.
“That’s fucking right. ME.”
One movement and one scream later she finally got what she wanted. It was just so easy for him to claim her given the fact she was already dripping with arousal.
At this point control was out the window.
Pushing, pulling, moving.
Lips clashing, teeth biting, hands exploring each other's bodies like they were meeting the soft skin and defined muscles all over again. Building the intensity and pleasure as never before.
Pain and pleasure.
Possessiveness and softness.
Her.
His.
Yes.
Almost there!
She was so soft, so warm, so fucking delicious and wet.
He was covered with sweat unable to hold back grunts and squeezing her body, hurting her and adoring all at once.
So close...
Yes....
Yes, yes, yes!
When she screamed his name one more time, digging nails into his back with the force she didn’t know she had, he had no choice but to follow right after.
Never ever before falling into the bottomless pit were so good.
Becoming one.
***
“Was I too rough?”
They vaguely remembered the moment when Jason, with the last of his strength, filled with care and bliss, cradled her in his arms carrying to the bed.
Silkiness of the sheets, gentle kisses and caresses, devoid of rush and voracity were the most stark and the most welcomed contrast to what they did against the wall some time earlier.
“No.” she smiled at him, their blissful eyes meeting. ‘I mean, maybe a little, but no.”
“Well in my defence—“ he started, the guilt upon seeing all her bruises and bite marks taking hold on him.
“There’s no one else but you.” Her soft voice and subtle touch on his cheek cut him off.
“But-“
“I lied.” She sighed, not apologising about it.
 “What? Why?”
“I don’t even know now.” Y/N rolled on her back, stretching herself without covering her body testing Jason’s self-control once more.
“Is there a possibility you missed me that much it forced you to push me past my limits?” he smirked, tracing one finger over her exposed belly in a very suggestive manner.
“You’re such a prick Jason Todd. I’m not adding to your blown up ego…”
“Maybe not with words—“ he laughed not stopping his actions, enjoying the Goosebumps that covered her body. “Admit it. You did miss me.”
“Mh. It’s impossible to wait till Saturday and Sunday to have you all to myself” She muttered
“Well I suppose the weekend came early for you baby.” He rolled on top of her starting another round.
Red hood, duties and that little dent in the wall that would cause them to say goodbye to the deposit money, has just became meaningless for the upcoming two and a half days.
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2600’s amazing Hackers on Planet Earth con may go down under enshittification
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Catch me in Miami! I'll be at Books and Books in Coral Gables on Jan 22 at 8PM.
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It's been 40 years since Emmanuel Goldstein launched the seminal, essential, world-changing 2600: The Hacker Quarterly. 2600 wasn't the first phreak/hacker zine, but it was the most important, spawning a global subculture dedicated to the noble pursuit of technological self-determination:
https://www.2600.com/
2600 has published hundreds of issues in which digital spelunkers report eagerly on the things they've discovered by peering intently at the things no one was supposed to even glance at (I'm proud to be one of those writers!). They've fought legal battles, including one that almost went to the Supreme Court:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/DeCSS
They created a global network of meetups where some of technology's most durable friendships and important collaborations were born. These continue to this day:
https://www.2600.com/meetings
And they've hosted a weekly radio show on NYC's WBAI, Off the Hook:
https://wbai.org/program.php?program=76
When WBAI management lost their minds and locked the station's most beloved hosts out of the studio, Off the Hook (naturally) led the rebellion, taking back the station for its audience, rescuing it from a managerial coup:
https://twitter.com/2600/status/1181423565389942786
But best of all, 2600 gave us HOPE – both in the metaphorical sense of "hope for a better technological tomorrow" and in the literal sense, with its biannual Hackers On Planet Earth con:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hackers_on_Planet_Earth
For decades HOPE had an incredible venue, the Hotel Pennsylvania (memorialized in the phreak anthem "PEnnsylvania 6-5000"), a crumbling pile in midtown Manhattan that was biannually transformed into a rollicking, multi-day festival of forbidden technology, improbable feats, and incredible presentations. I was privileged to keynote HOPE in 2016:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f1D7APjmVbk
But after the 2018 HOPE, the Hotel Pennsylvania was demolished to make way for the Penn15 (no, really) skyscraper, a vaporware mega-tower planned as a holding pen for luxury shopping and empty million-dollar condos sold to offshore war-criminals as safe-deposit boxes in the sky. The developer, Vornado (no, really) hasn't actually done all that – after demo'ing the Hotel Pennsylvania, they noped out, leave a large, unusable scar across midtown.
But HOPE wasn't lost. In 2022, the ever-resilient 2600 crew relocated to Queens, hosted by St John's University – a venue that was less glamorous that the Hotel Pennsylvania, but the event was still fantastic. Attendance fell from 2,000 to 1,000, but that was something they could work with, and reviews from attendees were stellar.
Good thing, too. 2600 is, first and foremost, a magazine publisher, and these have been hard years for magazines. First there was the mass die-off of indie bookstores and newsracks (I used to sell 2600 when I was a bookseller, and in the years after, I always took the presence of 2600 on a store's newsrack as an unimpeachable mark of quality).
Thankfully for 2600, their audience is (unsurprisingly) a tech-savvy one, so they were able to substitute digital subscriptions for physical ones:
https://www.2600.com/Magazine/DigitalEditions
Of course, many of those subscriptions came through Amazon's Kindle, because nerds were early Amazon adopters, and because the Kindle magazine publishing platform offered DRM-free distribution to subscribers along with a fair payout to publishers.
But then Amazon enshittified its magazine system. Having locked publishers to its platform, it rugged them and killed the monthly subscription fees that allowed publishers to plan for a steady output. Publishers were given a choice: leave Amazon (and all the readers locked inside its walled garden) or put your magazine into the Kindle Unlimited system:
https://www.amazon.com/kindle-dbs/arp/B0BWPTCP4K?deviceType=A1FG5NAKX0MRJL
Kindle Unlimited is an all-you-can-eat program for Kindle, which pays publishers and writers based on a system that is both opaque and easily gamed, with the lion's share of the money going to "publishers" who focus on figuring out how to cheat the algorithm. Revenues for 2600 – and all the other magazines that Amazon had sucked in and sucked dry – fell off a cliff.
Which brings me to the present moment. After 40 years, 2600 is still at it, having survived the bookstorepocalypse, the lunacy of public radio management, the literal demolition of their physical home by an evil real-estate developer, and Amazon's crooked accounting.
This is 2600, circa 2024, and 2024 a HOPE year:
https://www.hope.net/
Once again, HOPE has been scheduled for its new digs in Queens, July 12-14. Last week, HOPE sent out an email blast to their subscribers telling them the news. They expected to sell 500 tickets in the first 24 hours. They didn't even come close:
https://www.2600.com/content/hope-ticket-sales-update
It turns out that Google and the other major mail providers don't like emails with the word "hacker" in them. The cartel that decides which email gets delivered, and which messages go to spam, or get blocked altogether, mass-blocked the HOPE 2024 announcement. Email may be the last federated, open platform we have, but mass concentration has created a system where it's nearly impossible to get your email delivered unless you're willing to play by Gmail's rules:
https://pluralistic.net/2021/10/10/dead-letters/
For Emmanuel Goldstein, founder of 2600 and tireless toiler for this community, the deafening silence following from that initial email volley was terrifying: "like some kind of a "Twilight Zone" episode where everyone has disappeared."
The enshittification that keeps 2600's emails from being delivered to the people who asked to receive them is even worse on social media. Social media companies routinely defraud their users by letting them subscribe to feeds, then turning around to the people and organizations that run those feeds and saying, "You've got x thousand subscribers on this platform, but we won't put your posts in their feeds unless you pay us to 'boost' your content":
https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/04/platforms-decay-lets-put-users-first
Enshittification has been coming at 2600 for decades. Like other forms of oddball media dedicated to challenging corporate power and government oppression, 2600 has always been a ten-years-ahead preview of the way the noose was gonna tighten on all of us. And now, they're on the ropes. HOPE can't sell tickets unless people know about HOPE, and neither email providers nor social media platforms have any interest in making that happen.
A handful of giant corporations now get to decide what we read, who we hear from, and whether and how we can get together in person to make friends, forge community, rabble-rouse and change the world. The idea that "it's not censorship unless the government does it" has always been wrong (not all censorship violates the First Amendment, and censorship can be real without being unconstitutional):
https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/04/yes-its-censorship/
What can you do about it? Well, for one thing, you can sign up for HOPE. It's gonna be great. They've got sub-$100 hotel rooms! In New York City!
https://store.2600.com/products/tickets-to-hope-xv
If you can't make it to HOPE, you can sign up for a virtual membership:
https://store.2600.com/products/tickets-to-hope-xv-virtual-attendee
You can submit a talk to HOPE:
https://www.hope.net/cfp.html
You can subscribe to 2600, in print or electronically (I signed up for the lifetime print subscription and it was a bargain – I devour every issue the day it arrives):
https://store.2600.com/collections/subscriptions-renewals
2600 is living a decade in the future of every other community you care about, weird hobby you enjoy, con you live for, and publication you read from cover to cover. If we can all pull together to save it, it'll be a beacon of hope (and HOPE).
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I'm Kickstarting the audiobook for The Bezzle, the sequel to Red Team Blues, narrated by @wilwheaton! You can pre-order the audiobook and ebook, DRM free, as well as the hardcover, signed or unsigned. There's also bundles with Red Team Blues in ebook, audio or paperback.
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If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/19/hope-less/#hack-the-planet
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morganbritton132 · 9 months
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I love the newer teachers not knowing who Eddie is and visiting Steve at his house and wondering how they can afford such a nice house. I can imagine that they live in a house way above a teachers salary, much less a teacher with presumably, a lot of medical bills. They see gold records hanging on the walls and all of Eddie’s awards on a bookshelf and they are trying to connect the dots to who Eddie is.
David’s first impression of Steve is, admittedly, not great.
He was hired as a long-term substitute halfway through the school year and technically, Mr. Harrington was the only teacher on their floor not to introduce himself to him. They’re supposed to cover the eighth grade lunch period together, but Steve hasn’t shown up once since David was started three days ago.
Instead, the principal covered for him.
Cindy McCullen, the gossipy history teacher across the hall from him, says that it’s because of favoritism. She says that Principal Moreno always lets her favorites run rampant around the school and lets them do whatever they want, especially if they’re tenured. Steve Harrington is the most egregious example of blatant favoritism.
David starts to form an opinion about Mr. Harrington in his mind that only gets worse with every story he hears from Cindy. So, it’s a bit of a shock when Steve shows up for lunch duty the next day with a whole ass service dog.
He feels like an asshole.
Especially because Steve is so apologetic about missing the last three days and leaving David to ‘the wolves’ during his first week, “Is this your first teaching job? I’ve heard from the kids that you’re doing great!”  
He makes a conscious effort after that to get to know Steve and to stop letting other people form his opinions for him. Though, admittedly. He kinda fucks that up too.
The first time David meets Eddie, he thinks that he’s Steve’s brother.
It’s not that Steve doesn’t talk about his life outside of work. It’s just that he doesn’t go into a lot a detail. David knows that he’s married to a man, that he’s from Indiana originally, and he might have a kid. Maybe? A girl name Erica that tells him what a brony is and how they ruin everything.
Hell, David’s not even entirely sure he knows what Ozzy is in service of. Steve just said that he bumped his head one too many times and now he has a dog so his husband stops worrying so much.
The only surefire thing that David knows is that Steve has a brother that’s a bit of a dork. He has great hair and is really smart, but lacks tact. Steve loves him. You can tell by the way that he talks about the guy.
So one day, David is in the teacher’s lounge heating up a cup of Easy Mac while Steve is sitting with his head down at one of the tables. He’s about to suggest that Steve go home and sleep off whatever cold he has when a guy with long hair and a leather jacket sticks his head in the room and declares, “You look like shit.”
Steve doesn’t even lift his head when he flips him off which is – whoa, not something that David would expect from Mr. Harrington. He makes himself busy with stirring his mac and cheese while the two bicker with each other which is, admittedly, childish.
Leather Jacket’s main argument for why Steve has to listen to him and go home is because he’s older. Steve croaks out that that is bullshit and Leather Jacket threatens to call their Uncle Wayne if Steve doesn’t listen. He eventually agrees.
Before they leave, Leather Jacket sticks his hand out to David and introduces himself as the cooler Mr. Harrington (that gets a laugh out of Steve).
So, color him shocked when Steve invites their event committee over to his house.
David hasn’t even fully gotten over how nice of a neighborhood Steve lives in on a teacher and retiree’s salary when Leather Jacket gets introduced as Eddie, the husband Steve has mentioned. Then he just casually mentions a red carpet like, what?
And the craziest part is that he’s asked about his husband before!
Steve mentioned once that his husband was out of town and when David asked what he did for work, Steve said that he was retired. He said that his husband can play guitar and that one of their friends (James Hetfield) needed a last minute guitarist for some kind of fair (Coachella) so Eddie went to help out.
He definitely worded it like playing guitar was just a hobby that his husband has, not like. Not like platinum records lining the hallway to their bathroom or the picture of Steve and Eddie in Vegas with KISS stuck to the fridge. He swears the note on the dry erase board by the garage entrance signed ‘Dave’ is in Dave Grohl’s handwriting.
There’s an Grammy on the bookshelf by the fireplace.
Who the hell is Steve Harrington?
Better question: Who the hell is Eddie Munson?
Kathy laughs the entire drive to her house and she is still laughing when he drops her off. The only thing she says that could even be considered an answer is, “I think he’s on Tiktok. Start there.” 
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bastardmandennis · 8 months
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i can see you (teacher!joel x fem teacher!reader)
Teacher!joel x fem teacher!reader
Summary: You’re a substitute teacher trying to find your classroom for the day. Joel is a high school teacher who mistakes you for a student, and after school shenanigans ensue.
“You’re a…” “Substitute,” you finish. Joel crosses his arms against his chest, clearly embarrassed at the mishap. “Well,” he grumbles, “why didn’t ya say anything before?”
Warnings: SMUT!! NSFW, age gap (reader is mid-20s, Joel is Joel), grinding, fingering, sass, oral sex (m receiving), …yeah. pls let me know if i missed anything!
word count: 3.6k (idk idk idk)
A/N: yeah i…don’t even know what happened. The spirit of speak now tv possessed me (specifically the sexy vibes of “i can see you,” which this fic is obviously named after). so, yeah. pls like/comment/reblog if you liked this and maybe i’ll write more! hope y'all enjoy teacher joel as much as i do 🙂
Read my neighbor!joel fic here
The bell rings, echoing shrilly through the packed hallway. Students push and move all around you, nearly knocking your messenger back off your shoulder.
You huff and push the strap back up. The hallway is nearly empty now, students funneling themselves into different classrooms. So much for asking someone for directions. This school is massive and disorienting. You weren’t even supposed to be here, but after a last minute call from your friend Laura, a high school geometry teacher, you’d dragged yourself here to watch her classes for the afternoon. Not like you could afford to be picky, job wise. 
If you could only find it. You peer at the directions the ancient secretary had written down for you and give up trying to decipher her looping scrawl. The hallway is a dead zone now and as you scurry to the end of the hallway, you almost miss the man leaning against the wall. His arm shoots out to block you from moving up the stairs. You look up, relieved to find someone to direct you, when he speaks.
“You got a hall pass?”
A–huh? He’s not smiling, his arms crossed over his chest, shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal his tan forearms, but surely he’s joking. Right?
“Hall pass, right,” you snort. “Sure. I’m actually just heading up to Ms. Sim–”
“That’s fine. Come with me,” he says. He peels himself off the wall and stalks the opposite way down the hall, not looking to see if you’re following. A student slams his locker and calls out “Hey, Mr. Miller!” The man—Mr. Miller, apparently—raises a hand in acknowledgement but doesn’t slow his pace.
You hitch your bag up again and try to keep up with his long strides. Damn, he’s fast. “Oh, thank you! I think I got all turned around back there…”
Your voice trails off as you enter a classroom. Instead of 25 bored looking teenagers waiting for you, the room is completely empty. A shelf in the corner is crammed with books, spilling out onto the little area rug in front. You turn and a poster of Shakespeare hanging crookedly seems to follow your movements. There’s Christmas lights strung up around the room and a variety of throw pillows laying haphazardly on the ground. This definitely isn’t a math room. 
“Wha–” you start.
And immediately shut up at the sight before you. The man–Mr. Miller–is bent over the front of the teacher’s desk, scribbling furiously on a pad of paper. His dark jeans stretch over his ass. You can’t look away. He abruptly stands and turns to face you, perching against the edge of the desk. Does he ever stand up straight? you wonder.
He raises an eyebrow when you don’t move. Holds the piece of paper in his outstretched hand. You want to trace the veins sticking out and quickly push that thought away.
“I sure hope your directions are more legible than Sandra’s,” you laugh and step closer, reaching for the paper. Kind of weird that he’d rather take the time to write it down for you than just tell you, or bring you there, but whatever. 
He holds the paper up, out of your reach. “What directions?”
You huff. “To Laura’s room. Ms. Simons, eleventh grade geometry?” you say slowly. His eyebrows furrow and his arm lowers in confusion. Your fingers brush his when you grab the paper and you ignore the spark that shudders through you.
What the–a detention slip? Signed by Joel Miller, the man standing in front of you. Who looks as confused as you feel. Oh my god, he really thought you were a student. A snort makes its way out and you quickly cover it with a cough.
“You’re a…”
“Substitute,” you finish. Joel crosses his arms against his chest, clearly embarrassed at the mishap.
“Well,” he grumbles, “why didn’t ya say anything before?”
The nerve of this guy. 
“I would have,” you say, “if someone hadn’t dragged me away before I could.”
He scoffs. Kicks a booted foot across the floor. “You even old enough to be teachin’?” 
“Yes, and I’m clearly late, so if you could just direct me to Laura’s room, that would be great.” Who knows what a group of unsupervised teens could get into during your little detour. “Please, Mr. Miller,” you add.
Your sarcasm is lost and his name comes out as a breathy whisper. He stares at you, his dark eyes clouding over. Studies your face until you clear your throat.
“Joel,” he finally says. He takes the paper back from your limp fingers, twisting around to write something on the back of the detention slip. 
He pushes the note back into your hand, closing your hand with his. His hand practically dwarfs yours. “Here ya go, darlin’,” he drawls. “‘F you get lost again, you know where to find me.”
You swallow the sudden lump in your throat and mumble out a thank you before stumbling out of the room. Did they turn the heat up in here or something? Your fingers are still clenched around the paper and you make yourself unroll them, staring at the simple block scrawl with directions to your assigned classroom.
Underneath that, in smaller letters: Meet me after class. -Joel
The afternoon flies by in a blur, Joel’s note burning a hole in your pocket as you play random Shark Tank episodes for the last 3 periods. You find yourself tracing the ink, smudged where he’d pressed down a little too hard.
A glance at the clock lets you know there’s one more period before you’re free for the day. Ignoring the sudden butterflies, you give a quick spiel to the bored students, cue up a new Shark Tank, and open your laptop once they’re distracted. It doesn’t take you long to find the school directory, and then after a little more digging, the faculty page and contact info for Joel Miller. Ninth and tenth grade English. 
His school picture is what you expected, very no nonsense. Simple. A hint of a smile pulls his lips up, his short beard highlighting his chiseled jaw. He looks serious but you can see the warmth in his deep brown eyes. Just like when he’d looked at you earlier. Eyed you up and down, lingering on your breasts… you shake your head and pull up a new email.
See you tonight. Xx
After a slight hesitation, you add your phone number to the email and click send. As soon as you hear the whoosh of the sent message you want to take it back. What if he was just being nice? Or worse, reports you to the school board or something for harassment. Your head thunks to the desk with a small groan. You silently curse Laura for being sick, for calling you in, for walking down that hallway at the exact right time to run into Mr. Miller–Joel.
You tune into the video playing, trying to ignore the hope that lurches your stomach with each new email that comes in. Just spam, a how’s it going? from Laura that you definitely ignore, some online sales. You feel your chest deflate, stomach sinking the longer your email to Joel goes unanswered.
Stupid, so dumb. The final bell rings and you barely notice the kids leaving, scraping their chairs away from their desks in a rush to get home for the weekend. You pack your bag slowly, dreading having to walk by Joel’s room, hoping he’s not still here. Maybe there’s another way out, one where you won’t have to see him. You’re making a mental map in your mind, debating whether you want to try to follow another teacher out, when your phone dings from the pocket of your bag.
An unknown number. You still here?
Your heart beats faster, hope lifting your chest when you see the second message that comes in right after. It’s Joel. Miller.
You sling your bag over your shoulder and make your way carefully back to his classroom. The school is a ghost town, the rumble of the last bus pulling away from the front quickly fading away. Your footsteps echo down the stairs and you curse yourself for not wearing flats.
You knock lightly against his door, try to calm your beating heart and hope he can’t hear it.
“Mr. Miller?” you call lightly, and step in the room. The overhead lights are off, Christmas lights casting deep shadows around the classroom. You’re grateful for the lack of fluorescent lights–no one looks good under fluorescents. Except maybe Joel, who’d probably look good in any lighting. 
Case in point–he’s got a pen between his lips, a book with a folded-over cover in his hand. His hair is ruffled even more than earlier, like he’d been running his hands through it. He puts the book down when you step closer to his desk. The pen dangles from the corner of his mouth, which lifts in a little smile.
“This’s a pleasant surprise,” he says. He leans back in his chair, crosses his arms behind his head. You can see a strip of skin where his shirt untucks from his jeans, and you tear your eyes away.
“Yeah, I, uh. Got your note,” you say. “And your text.” Smooth.
He slaps his hands down on his thighs, rubbing his palms on his rough jeans. You wonder what they would feel like on your bare skin, if they’d be gentle or rough like the calluses on his fingers.
“Hmm,” he murmurs. His eyes rake up and down your body, this time so intentional you know he knows you’re watching. You fight back a blush.
“’M sorry about earlier,” he says. You blink and he continues. “Too pretty to be a student.”
It should be sleazy, the way his eyes linger on your high heeled feet, the hem of your barely-long enough pencil skirt you’d thrown on in a rush. Instead you feel the heat of his gaze and it settles in your stomach, lower. You shift and he looks away, meeting your eyes with a smile.
You step forward, drawn to that smile. Wanting to make him smile again, only for you, a secret only you’d know about. 
“I’m sorry too, Mr. Miller,” you say. His eyes darken. Interesting. 
“Thought I told ya to call me Joel,” he finally says. Is it just you or did his voice get a lot deeper all of a sudden? More authoritative. That sends a rush of arousal through you and you curse yourself (again) for not wearing underwear today. 
You step even closer to his desk, until you’re practically standing in between his spread legs. His eyes trace your legs up up up and linger at your chest. Your lips.
You bite your lower lip and he shifts in his chair. “Of course, Joel.”
He’s quiet for a moment, and just when you think you’ve gone too far, he surprises you, surging up out of the chair to tower over you. He grips your face in his hands. Noses along your cheek until he reaches your ear. You hold back a moan as he bites the lobe lightly.
“Nuh uh, darlin’,” he murmurs. “Wanna hear you, go on.”
He moves down your neck, lingering at your exposed collarbone. He sucks a mark there and this time you can’t hold back, your moan mingling with his panting breaths.
“Please, Joel,” you whimper. 
At that he pulls back before finally pressing his lips against yours. They’re rough but his movements are gentle, slow and steady until you’re gasping for air. All you can smell, taste, see, is him him him. You rake your nails through the scruff of his jaw and this time he groans, leaning his head into your hand. You smile and press your lips against his, moaning as his tongue slips against yours.
He pulls you impossibly closer, the wide spread of his hands sliding low down your back. You can feel his arousal pressing up between you and you shift to try to get friction against your throbbing clit. 
His groan is low as he pulls away, panting. His eyes are practically black with desire as he grips your ass and pulls you closer, grinding into him. His hands move lower to the back of your thighs and you take the hint, jumping up at the same time he catches you and hoists you up. He walks you over to his desk and deposits you on top, careful not to jostle your mouth away from his. A hardcover book digs into your back and you sweep your hand behind you impatiently, trying to clear a space. He looks at his belongings now covering the floor and raises an eyebrow.
“What?” you ask innocently. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”
His answering groan is low. “Thought about this a lot, huh? Spread out on the teacher’s desk?”
“Not any teacher,” you whisper. Hook your legs around the back of his thighs and pull him closer to where you’re warm and aching and so wet. “Just you.”
He runs a thumb over your cheek, down over your swollen bottom lip. Watches as you suck his thumb in, run your tongue around it and hollow your cheeks. He grunts and pops his thumb out, a string of saliva connecting them. He runs the wet finger down the side of your neck, tracing your collarbone before settling over a nipple.
He looks surprised to see no bra in the way of his wandering hands. “I was in a rush,” you grumble, tightening your legs where they’re hooked low on his waist.
“’M glad you were,” he murmurs, eyes on the way your nipples have hardened against your shirt. “Or I couldn’t do this.”
He bends down, forcing your back to lower onto the desk. Sucks your nipple right through your shirt, his tongue sweeping over and over the hardened bud. You let out a high-pitched whine, tug his hair the way you’ve been thinking about this whole time while he mouths the other one.
“Joel, come on, touch me,” you whine. The ache between your legs is unbearable now, the pounding of your clit overwhelming. You arch your hips up for any kind of friction but he stops that quickly. Throws a hand across your hips, pushing down. His jaw clenches and you want to grin at how disheveled he looks, curls all pointing in different directions and the light shadow of a hickey under his jaw.
“I am touching you,” he teases. The heat from his hand leeches through the layers of clothes, branding you as his. 
“Please, I just–ugh,” you groan.
“Whaddya want, hm?” he whispers. Drags his lips around your jaw, your cheeks, your lips again until you’re squirming. “Give you anything, just gotta ask.”
For some reason you’re suddenly shy and can’t meet his intense gaze. “Want…want your fingers. In me,” you say softly. He groans at your words and adjusts his pants.
“Yeah?” he asks. “Okay, sweetheart. Lemme see.”
He drags his slightly damp thumb down your hip, pressing briefly there before running under the waistband of your skirt. He snaps it against your skin and you hiss lightly. 
He lets out a tortured groan when he pushes your skirt up and finds you bare, nothing between your slick skin and his thick fingers.
“’S all for me?” His voice is rough, wrecked as he swipes his thumb through your slit, collecting the slick there. Groans when you nod, shifting to spread your legs even further, opening yourself up to him even more.
“Alright,” he husks. “Gonna take care of you, don’t worry.”
He drags his thumb lightly over your clit once, twice. You jolt and pull him closer, arching your back off the desk. He traces a single finger down the crease of your thigh slowly, the bastard, grinning when you become impatient and hook your leg around to try and bring him closer. 
Finally, finally, he pushes the tip of his finger in and you moan at the sudden intrusion. His fingers are thick, calluses rubbing just right as his thumb flicks your clit. He mouths loosely at your neck and you wish you could do something more besides whimper and arch yourself closer to his insanely talented fingers.
“’S okay, sweetheart, I got you,” he says lowly. Dips a second finger in you, drags your slick back up to your clit and presses down hard. “You’re so tight, fuck, how’m I gonna fit, huh? Gonna make room for me in this tight pussy?”
“Fuck, please,” you groan. His fingers pump steadily, thumb swiping your clit lazily. You feel your release building, head spinning as you gasp for breath. “’M gonna–ah, please. Please.”
He presses his thumb directly to your swollen clit and your back arches so hard you almost throw him off. Your legs clamp around him, as if he could physically be any closer, and he pulls down your top, exposing your breast to the cool air. He sucks a mark on the side of your breast and your head spins, the sensations overwhelming. You can hear the squelch of his fingers pumping in and out but you can’t even feel embarrassed, too busy chasing your orgasm that’s just out of reach.
You whimper in frustration when he stills his fingers, thumb resting in the crease of your hip. You’re throbbing, so wet you can feel it spilling down the backs of your thighs onto his desk. He’ll think of me after, when he’s cleaning it off his desk, you realize, and that thought combined with the press of Joel’s teeth on the edge of your breast, his thumb swirling around your slippery clit, finally sends you over the edge.
“Good girl,” he murmurs lowly. “Such a good girl, just for me.”
When you finally catch your breath and open your eyes, he’s looking at you with such raw hunger that you can’t even be self conscious that you just came all over his desk, breast hanging out of your shirt, skirt hiked up, while he’s still fully dressed. His shirt is rumpled, fully untucked from his pants now. You reach for the bulge in his jeans, more than ready to reciprocate, when he grabs your wrist.
“Let me,” you whisper. “Please, Mr. Miller?”
He thrusts his hips into your hand at your words and you smile. You slump to the floor, boneless after one of (if not the) best orgasm of your life, and look up at him through your lashes. Fuck, he’s pretty, marked up and wet spot spreading on the front of his jeans. I did that to him, you think, and that sends another surge of arousal through you. He leans back against his desk, legs spread, watching as you slowly unbuckle his belt and drag it out of the loops. It makes a hollow clang when it hits the ground. You pull his jeans and briefs down slowly, and he growls.
You flash him an innocent grin and pull them down the rest of the way, his hard cock springing up at the sudden freedom. Holy shit, he’s big. You run your hands down his stomach, scratching lightly through the trail of hair there and avoiding his leaking cock.
“Go on,” he says. His hands twitch like he wants to grab your head but he stops, gripping the edge of the desk instead. “’S my good girl, such a good–fuck.”
You take the tip of him in your mouth, swirling your tongue around the leaking head. You pull back, leaving little kitten licks up and down the shaft, never settling in one place for long. He groans, long and loud, and his knuckles go white with how hard he’s gripping the desk.
“Shit, I’m, can I? Let me fuck your mouth, please, let me fill that pretty little mouth,” he rambles. He sounds wrecked, hair sticking up at all angles from where he’d run his hands through it over and over.
You moan, the heavy weight of his cock on your tongue. Pull off to say in a hoarse voice, “Yes yes, please,” and that’s all he needs to hear, fisting his hands in your hair and slowly feeding you his cock. You can’t take the whole thing, nose almost pressed to the wiry hair at the base, but you do your best, letting the spit run from your mouth as you twist your hand around what your mouth can’t reach.
He thrusts his hips up shallowly, grunting when he hits the back of your throat. You swallow around him and the grip on your hair gets tighter. His thighs tense when you hum around his cock.
“Fuck, that’s it,” he pants. “Such a good girl, lettin’ me fuck you right here where anyone can see, hmm? Feels so–so good. ’M gonna–where d’you want it, hm?”
You don’t answer, licking at the tip, tonguing the slit gently. He shoves once, twice, to hit the back of your throat and finally comes with a stutter of his hips when you swallow around him.
“Fuck, fu-uck,” he says, broken. Watches as you let his spent dick fall from your mouth, string of come and spit dragging from the corner of your mouth. Your breath hitches as he reaches out with a thumb to push it back into your mouth. He gives you a smile, small but genuine.
“That was…” you trail off. Push yourself off your knees, brushing invisible dirt off your skirt. You feel his eyes on you again.
Joel reaches out and grabs your hand. Interlocks your fingers together before you can pull back. 
“Yeah,” he says. “Can I…take you out tomorrow, or somethin’?” He sounds nervous, and you can’t help but smile. He just fucked your mouth, whispered the dirtiest things in your ear, but the idea of a date makes him blush? How cute.
“You know where to find me,” you say. 
Joel’s answering smile is bright, just for you. 
masterlist here
917 notes · View notes
sooniebby · 11 months
Note
If requests are still open, can I ask for somno/breeding kink with Beam from chainsaw man, with him just passing out on top of male reader after he finishes, basically just cuddling subconsciously. Love your work btw, they’re fun to read. If my request needs more description, I’ll try again
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ఌ 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐌
꧁ 𝘽𝙚𝙖𝙢 𝙭 𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ꧂
Word count › 1.4k
Rating › NSFT
Warnings › beam dumb
Kinks › breeding, light somno
╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-
╰┈─➤ BEGINNING
(Name) wanted to jump off a bridge. He knew what he was getting into dating someone as idiotic as Beam but he truly didn’t believe it could get so bad. Yet here he was, having to wait for Beam to wash off the cow shit he was drenched in. 
How did this happen? He wasn’t sure. Denji had come up with some elaborate reason why but (Name) had decided to just deal with him later. He groaned to himself as he slipped out of his work clothes, ready to pull on his pjs when Beam opened the bathroom door. 
A grin spread on his lips, “(Name), are we about to have sex?!” 
“No.” (Name) said, throwing his work pants at Beam’s face. He was way too angry to have any sort of sexual activity with the man that was just covered in cow shit. 
“Why not?!” Beam whined, walking over to (Name) with a pout on his lips. If he had human eyes, maybe he would’ve tried to use puppy dog eyes on him. 
“You rolled in cow shit.” 
“But I showered…” 
“No.” 
A huff left Beam’s throat as he sat down on the bed. He was silently sulking as (Name) continued to change. Ever since the first time they had sex, Beam was very into it. He always asked in the worst way possible for it but (Name) was used to that. 
“(Name)….” 
“No. Sleep.” 
Beam sighed but did as he was told, moving to lay down in his spot. (Name) turned off the lights and laid down on the bed, ready for a good nights rest after a stressful day of cow shit. 
It was only maybe an hour or so when (Name) felt something rub against his ass cheeks. 
Oh he wanted to jump off a roof. 
Beam was rubbing his naked (!!!) cock against his ass. 
Wait, his shorts were down. 
The absolute pervert pulled his pants down. (Name) was wondering what he should use to kill Beam but stopped himself. They had talked about something like this once—saying that it should be done randomly. But really? He chose today? 
The day cow shit touched his body?! 
Ew. (Name) tried not to think about the cow shit as he heard the stuttered breathing of Beam as he began to thrust between his ass cheeks. It was a bit flattering that Beam was using him as a masturbation tool, really. 
But he’d never tell Beam that unless he wanted him to get more annoying. 
Beam muttered something before easily pulling (Name)’s body closer, earning a grunt from him. He didn’t move for a second, seeing if (Name) was awake before continuing. The skin against each other was a bit harsh and it seemed Beam had noticed because he stopped. 
(Name) felt the blankets be pulled away to free his lower half, the cold air on his skin. He waited for any type of lube to touch his body only to hear the sound of someone spitting. 
No. 
No. 
WHAT THE FUCK?! 
(Name) wanted to cry. No fucking way that he used spit instead of the fucking lube in the nightstand right beside him. Did he forget?! How was the spit supposed to substitute for lube? 
He couldn’t just let this idiot continue. What if he tried to shove it in his poor asshole and he’d bleed to death?! 
“Beam.” 
“Sorry!” 
(Name) turned around to face Beam who looked embarrassed. “It’s fine. But don’t use your spit. Use lube next time.” He said, pointing over to the nightstand on Beam’s side. Beam nodded and grabbed the lube, handing it over to him. 
“So I can do it again just with lube…?” 
“Yeah, sure.” (Name) muttered, easily coating his fingers and shoving them inside. It was pretty easy to do—he no longer felt embarrassed in front of Beam either. Beam watched with amazement as he easily slipped his fingers in and out. 
“(Name), you’re almost on the same level as Lord Chainsaw!” 
“Bring up Denji again during sex and I’ll never let you fuck me again.” 
“Sorry.” 
(Name) hummed and motioned for him to get between his legs. Beam’s previous sad look was gone in a minute as he quickly went to the spot he had once called his ‘destiny’. Or whatever bullshit he spouts during sex. 
He kinda just says whatever on his mind. (Name) slipped out his fingers and laid down, using two fingers to spread open his hole. Beam grinned in excitement, grabbing (Name)’s legs and pushing them upward. 
“Thank you, (Name).” 
“I’m not a meal—hurry up.” 
“Right!” 
One quick thrust and he was inside. (Name) arched his back as he cried out in pleasure. He would never admit it out loud but he really believed Beam was pretty good at sex despite being so innocent otherwise. 
Maybe it was because (Name) really only had one partner before him. Or it’s that Beam’s much larger cock did most of the work. It didn’t matter really. 
“(Name).” 
“Hmm?” 
“Lord Chainsaw taught me something about sex.” 
(Name) wanted to kick Beam off of him but it was a bit hard with the strength the man had on his legs. He simply grunted in disappointment but continued to enjoy the steady thrusting inside his hole. 
“Did you ever think about me cumming inside?” 
“Hng?!” (Name) gasped at a the sudden drag against his prostate. He had never really did. Beam usually pulled out but (Name) had never told him to. It was just something he did. 
What would cum feel like inside…? 
“He told me we can make babies that way,” Beam grinned. “That’s a good idea, right?” 
(Name) was going to murder Denji after this. He could only whimper as Beam continued to push forward, folding (Name) into a mating press. This was a position they tried once and only once because (Name) complained he wasn’t flexible enough for it. 
He still wasn’t but he couldn’t exactly stop him. 
He was enjoying it. His cock was reaching in deeper than most of the other positions and no way in hell would he gave it up. The pleasure he felt was so different than anything else. 
His toes curled as he threw his head back, mouth opened in a silent scream. Their neighbours would surely talk to them in the morning about late night sex. The sound of the headboard against the wall would certainly bother them. 
To (Name), it was only edging him further. Each thrust into his body caused him to clench down on Beam’s cock. Beam himself was grunting at the pressure, muttering on about the supposed children (Name) would give him. 
Yeah, Denji was going to die tomorrow. 
(Name) wrapped his arms around Beam’s neck and gave him a small smile. “You can cum inside.” He whispered, gasping at a particular deep drag on his prostate. 
“Okay, okay. We’ll become a family this way, yeah?” 
“Sure, sure…” (Name) muttered, feeling himself close. 
Beam seemed close by the way his thrusting became unsteady. His usual rhythm that he had was gone and all he seemed to want was to chase his release. (Name)’s pleasure didn’t matter to him much right now. 
(Name) was close himself, biting his lip to stop the moans that’ll stream out of his mouth from the harsh thrusting. It took really only three more thrusts when Beam muttered something about being a good father. 
(Name) ignored it and whispered out words of encouragement for him to cum. 
One last thrust that somehow ended right at his prostate. (Name) arched his back and cummed on his stomach, a moan slipping from his lips. Beam was right behind him, cumming deep inside him. 
The feeling of the warm cum inside him made (Name) shivered. He could get addicted to this. His legs certainly hurt though as he tried to push Beam off of him. Only to realise that the damn fool was fast asleep. 
(Name) groaned at the much heavier body on top of him. Yeah, no way could he push him off. He sighed but decided to get comfortable. It was weird to still have Beam’s cock inside him but he kinda liked it. 
The feeling of cum slipping out of him though was bothering him. It was going to be hard to clean himself out in the morning. 
“Night, Beam..” (Name) muttered, smiling at him as he burrowed his head on his shoulder. The two cuddled for the night, enjoying the warmth of the other. 
While Denji in his own apartment sneezed violently. Why was he suddenly scared for tomorrow…? 
╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-
╰┈─➤ END
First ever Beam fic!! I’m trying new things with my writing lol—mainly small jokes in smut
Requests are open!! Yubin fic tomorrow <3
1K notes · View notes
runninriot · 2 months
Text
Small Treasures To Keep
inspired by the prompt 'Love is not in the big things but in the small ones' by @sidekick-hero written for @steddielovemonth day 9
wc: 1.472 | rated: G | cw: none | tags: Musician Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington has a crush, just sweet boys being sweet, friends to lovers
   “There were like, at least 200 people there! And they were actually enjoying our show! Can you believe that? It was amazing, Steve! They listened to us play, and banged their heads, and they cheered after every song. Some of them even asked if we had any merch with us and obviously we didn’t but we gave out autographs and- Oh! I almost forgot! I got you something! I’ll be right back.” Eddie nearly topples off the couch in excitement.
Steve watches him with a smile on his face, equally amused and charmed by Eddie’s dorky behaviour, and bites back a laugh when Eddie almost stumbles over his own feet as he hurries towards his bedroom.
Eddie is a menace. So strange and irritating at times but in such an endearing way it’s impossible not to like him.
Steve’s been listening to him talk non-stop since he arrived at his trailer about ten minutes ago. Talking himself breathless while recounting the events of Corroded Coffin’s first real gig, as Eddie calls it.
Steve can’t blame Eddie for being so over the moon, so overjoyed and proud. So thrilled to have gotten the chance to play as substitute opener for some Indiana metal band last night.
It must’ve been a blast, by the sounds of what Eddie’s been telling him. And Steve really is happy for him but somewhere deep down he’s still a little sad. Because he was supposed to be there for the show, to watch his friend perform in a venue four times the size of The Hideout, in front of an actual crowd. But Steve had been caught up at work because Keith called in sick last minute, leaving Steve in charge of the closing shift at Family Video which meant he couldn't make it out in time for the gig.
That really sucked.
Steve had been looking forward to the concert ever since Eddie asked him if he wanted to come see them play. When he told him it would mean a lot if he did. That he’d appreciate to have his emotional support there because he’d been so nervous about the whole thing.
It made Steve feel special, in a way. Like he’s important to Eddie, important enough for Eddie to want him there. For wanting Steve to witness the most exciting moment in the band’s history since Gareth’s mom had finally relented and let them use the garage for their rehearsals.
Steve had wanted to be there.
So, not being able to go was utterly frustrating. Not only because he really would’ve loved to watch Eddie play his guitar on a real stage but also because he kind of felt like he let Eddie down.
It was a miracle he even got a hold on him over the phone to tell him the unfortunate news. Eddie was just about to leave and make his way to the venue when Steve called him. (He would've already been out of the house had he not spilled a drink on his shirt and needed to change.)
Steve was gutted when he heard Eddie let out a heavy sigh, felt a pang in his heart at the defeat in Eddie’s voice when he told him that it was okay.
He felt horrible, like a bad friend. Unreliable and disappointing.
But then Eddie told him he understood and not to worry his pretty head about it. Said he wasn't angry, just sad because he wouldn’t be able to look out for Steve in the crowd when his nerves got the better of him.
    “Promise you’ll think of me?” Eddie had asked and the promise spilled easily over Steve’s lips because-
Well. When is he not thinking about Eddie?
The guy with the unruly mane and chocolate brown eyes. The guy with the cheeky smile and a passion for teasing words. Whose small flirty gestures get Steve’s blood boiling and make his heart jump.
He’s on Steve’s mind constantly because he’s a constant in his life now. A good friend, a kind soul. Annoying, and loud, and wonderful to be around.
Eddie is-
    “Ah, fuck!”
The clattering sound of something takes Steve out of his thoughts and he can’t help but chuckle when he turns towards the noise and his eyes fall on Eddie, helplessly fumbling with the chain hanging from his belt loops that got stuck on the door handle.
When he's finally managed to free himself, he speed walks over to Steve with a big grin on his face. Eddie comes to a stop right in front of him, expectantly looking down at Steve as he triumphantly holds up a crinkled piece of paper, waiting for him to take it.
   “What is that?” Steve asks, confused and unable to identify what he’s now holding in his hands.
Upon closer look he realises it’s a flyer, or it had been one before someone decided to tear it in half. Steve can barely make out some dates and half of the name of a venue, thinks it might be one for the show last night.
   “Look at the back,” Eddie says and his smile widens even more.
When Steve turns it around, he sees the Corroded Coffin logo scribbled on the backside of the paper. Beneath the band’s name, he immediately recognizes Eddie’s squiggly handwriting, thinks he can make out the names of the other band member’s too.
Steve looks back up at Eddie, returning the smile as he realises what this is.
   “You got me an autograph? That’s so cool! Thanks, Eds!”
   “Not just any autograph. It’s the first. When people came asking for autographs we panicked a bit because no one had ever wanted us to sign anything. So we practiced. What you have there is the first piece of paper Corroded Coffin have ever signed. Gareth wanted to throw it away but I saved it because I wanted you to have it. Y’know, uh, because you couldn’t come to the show and I, uhm, I still wanted to share the experience with you.”
Eddie’s face turns bright red and he seems nervous all of a sudden.
And Steve just... stares. Lets his eyes drift between Eddie and the small treasure he’s holding in his hands.
It might just be a piece of paper, some might even call it trash. But to Steve this is something precious. Something he’ll hold onto forever because Eddie gave it to him. Eddie thought about him when he should’ve been buzzing with ecstasy over their successful gig.
   “That’s-“ Steve doesn’t know what to say.
So instead of talking he stands up and pulls Eddie into a tight embrace, feels his heart beating like crazy when Eddie returns it with his own arms wrapped around Steve.
   “I love it,” Steve says, keeps other words hidden inside.
They tentatively let go of each other, still staying close, still standing toe to toe.
   “Maybe it’ll be worth some money if me and the guys make it big one day.”
It already is Steve’s most valuable possession.
   “When, not if,” Steve says matter-of-factly, holding the paper close to his heart.
   “You really think so?” Eddie asks, voice hushed like it’s a secret wish that might come true if he doesn't jinx it.
   “Mhm.” Steve nods. “But I would never sell this autograph. I’ll frame it and keep it forever.”
   “You will?” Eddie asks, a little disbelieving but also...
    Hopeful?
And for a moment they just stand there, looking at each other wide-eyed and red-cheeked, both flustered and shy. Smiling.
   “Forever,” Steve says honestly, more meaning to the word than he’s ready to admit.
-
A few months later Steve finally gets to see Eddie and his band play on a real stage, in front of an actual crowd. He’s there in the front row, cheering for Eddie, buzzing with joy and pride.
And when their eyes meet in the middle of a song Steve doesn’t yet know is about him, he decides he’s going to tell Eddie that he loves him.
-
And when years later a reporter asks Corroded Coffin’s manager – who’s known to have been close friends with the guys forever (there are even unconfirmed speculations about him and the lead singer being lovers) – at which point in life he knew they had made it, Steve smiles and says “When I held their first autograph in my hands”.
The reporter laughs and the other band members roll their eyes fondly at the cheesy response. But Eddie looks at him and returns the smile, unnoticable for anyone other than Steve. And in that moment it means more to him than the gold ring he's secretly wearing on a chain around his neck. It means more than success and what they've accomplished in life.
It's a small thing, a hidden 'I love you'.
Another small treasure to keep.
369 notes · View notes
psychelis-new · 14 days
Text
pick a pile: "What type of karma/karmic cycle are you healing now"
[TW FILLED READING]
take a breath and choose the photo or number that calls you the most to read about what karmic cycle you are called to end in this moment and the triggers that may be related to it. it could be something from this life or a past life as well. piles seem to be interconnected somehow so if you're called by more than one pile, it's okay (but remember to focus on the word "now" when asking your question). reminder that I'm not a therapist of sort, so take everything with a grain of salt or just as an input to maybe navigate further within or contact a professional figure (if necessary according to you ofc). it's also a general reading so messages may not/all be for you.
don’t take the reading too seriously. only take what resonates with you and leave the rest. if you're not called by any pile, let this reading slid as it may not hold messages for you. if you're called by more than one pile, there may be messages in each of those piles. remember that is a general reading and some things may not resonate with you. energies can change and readings are based on present ones (as you read); you're always in charge of your life. readings do not substitute real life experience nor professionals/doctors advices.
(photos found on unsplash)
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pile 1 (relationships/communication)
You are probably healing something related to your connections/relationships. It could be something you couldn't see properly in your past (or at least you couldn't see from a different perspective) but now you are starting to realize or will soon. Maybe it's an habit you picked up in your early life, like wearing a mask in fear of being judged or left alone, or people pleasing, or always being there for others but feeling like a burden when it was you the one supposed to receive as much (and therefore acting as an independent person who doesn't need anything and for whom everything is fine). Maybe you also *fear* misinterpret others' behaviours in your regards, or you may overthinking if they are somehow betraying you or something. Like treating you in a certain way but actually thinking differently of you? Maybe you fear being lied to, somehow. And not being really appreciated unless you overgive and try to not bother them with your "problems" (which are problems ofc, but you may try to keep them for yourself and deal with them alone or deem them as less important than others' problems and put them in a second position -as you put yourself on a second choice level compared to others). You may be thinking: if you give so much and don't ask for anything in return, how could they leave you? It could be a reasonable thought, but at the end of the day it's not... Relationships are far more complex than this, and also very different (so maybe not everything in this pile may resonate with you).
Ofc it's understandable where you come from: you probably had been dealing with lies/betrayals/abandonment of different kind in your life and now it's hard to both be yourself and also trust others. But the message you send when you're being too self-reliant/independent (a silent cry for help despite what you're showing) cannot often be heard by them. All they can read between the lines is: "I'm okay, I don't need you". And ofc, this doesn't make people interested in you, especially if it's an habit of yours to keep them out of your needs (and out of your life: people cannot read our minds, and they're not here for that. But those who care would like to experience the joy of helping us, if we let them in and told them about us and what we need. They'd love to help us as much as we love to help them. They'd love to feel as happy and warm inside as we feel after we help them. But maybe first we need to stop and think about who we really are and what we really need from others, and from ourselves too. And let ourselves be vulnerable, knowing we can survive anything and that often others' reaction to us are not related inherently to us: we're not responsible of what they do with our trust/words).
You're learning how to properly communicate your needs, your fears and your boundaries. How to let others see you for who you are without any fear of judgement. How to be able to properly receive all that you wish for in a relationship. In order to do this, you need to take a brave step and look at what is going on from another perspective, different from the one that is suggesting you you're simply not good enough to have good and fulfilling relationships; or that you're unlovable or that people leaves cause you're just supposed to be alone forever. Or that everyone hates you. That is not so. Don't trust your wounded ego in this, do not follow its pattern into the hole. Be stronger than those fears, and see yourself as the lovely, kind and sweet human being you are. The very deserving of love and acceptance human being you are. And start by loving and accepting who you really are. You're not too much to bear with (as I read not long ago: when you fear being too much asking for something, it's generally because you didn't get enough of that). Analyze your relationships from a more objective point of view: we tend to see the "guilt" in the others (we blame them for abandoning us/letting us down, feeling resentful for how they treat us but also powerless when confronting them) or in ourselves (we're not enough for them/we cannot be seen and this may makes us angry too), but in relationships the truth is often halfway. And lack of proper communication, respect and understanding is what ruins everything (together with possibly not-compatible issues/traumas: if someone cannot give you what you ask for it's okay, other people will be able to fulfill your needs. Do not stuck/fixate yourself to receive from one single person everything you need, stay open. And let yourself be seen first: do not always wait for others to be interested in you to start with; at times it's hard for people to climb our walls and they may renounce, so at least lower them a little here and there, as you feel comfortable to. For as much as it can be okay to generally not be the one always taking the initiative, it's good to occasionally do that and show interest in the other as well). Anyway, don't be too harsh on yourself: you always acted and act for your best, to save yourself from pain, and you couldn't see that you probably were helping this pain staying alive, unconsciously searching for confirmations of its existance and of your inhability to have good relationships (maybe you were searching for them in the wrong places?). Forgive yourself and others (especially those who gaslighted, diminished, silenced or *unconsciously* taught you that you're not worthy first), and let things change for your best. Let your people find you.
For a few: If by any chance, you're not hiding yourself but actually trying to stand out or show yourself at any given time, it's probably the other face of the same coin. You try to get the attention you couldn't get to receive and what you learned is that to get it, you need to stand out or call for others/interrupt them, make them notice you, show you're as worthy if not more by being more vocal, and feel better about yourself after succeeding. Many people may not appreciate this or believe you do it as a form of egoism, but it's generally not so. Try to balance and listen to others too, do not just let your fear of ending up being unseen take you over and eclipse others (Ik you can't always see that cause you're trying to fulfill your own need and therefore unconsciously closing off from others' ones, but it can happen). You'll be seen as much as you need anyway. Be patient. :)
song: through the dark | vanbur
[if you're called by pile 3 as well, feel free to take a look + if you have been seeing lot of 3s, it could be a confirmation for this pile n.1 being yours]
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pile 2 (control/abandonment issues)
Out of all the piles, I think yours is the one needing more work, and also more patience, time and reflection/introspection. Be kind with yourself and go slow.
You're probably closing (or need to close) a chapter in regards to your need to be in control of what is going on in your future/life. You're deeply scared of the unknown, of not being able to control what is happening and probably you also fear not being able to take your own decisions but having to conform or accept whatever is going on for you. And ofc this is scary because the moment something you don't want to will happen, you won't have any other choice but to lower your head and obey/go with it. It's like you're caged. The future and this *fake* lack of control are making you pretty anxious and in need of knowing every detail of your life before taking any action, to be sure it's all okay. Maybe you also fear not being able to really close with this chapter and being trapped in it forever? As said, not knowing how things may turn out, would be too "risky" for you. I feel like it's also too scary to receive some kind of "no", whatever it may be about. It would crash you (or you think it would, somehow... but why?).
You probably need to separate yourself from what is going on around you. Nobody has real control on what life offers to us and when/how, nor on others' feelings about us (which only depend on how those people see us from their personal pov and based on their own experience of life, on their background: they can only have opinions of us based also on what we allow them to see of us). But we have whole control on ourselves, on our emotions and on how we respond to life and other people' choices/thoughts about us (what we make them mean about us). And we have control on what we want to do, how, when, why and if we want to say "no" to something. We have free will (I understand in some cultures and maybe also families it's a bit more complicated than this, but maybe you can get to at least politely talk and show your pov instead of giving up since the first minute? Or find a compromise on something else. Idk... Maybe it won't go as bad as you think, especially if you also silenced yourself out of fear in the past. Maybe the no's we've got in the past were about a specific thing for a reason, and not about everything as we think). I guess many times you just accepted your fate/destiny in the form of a decision taken by someone else (an authority figure of any type, from a boss to a parent... even tarot/astrology readings -excessive/anxious consume-?), without ever contraddicting them, feeling you're the one that doesn't know anything, feeling not enough to/inferior. Accepting what they were telling you about who you are and who you are supposed to be and obeying, living up to that (in pain and resentful, but still...). Or maybe this is also a way to save yourself from failing? If it's someone else guiding your life or telling you what to do/who you are, you won't have to take the blame of being "wrong" or feel guilty for having taken a "bad" decision and being a bad person, maybe. While it's good to get guidance and opinions in proper/healthy ways, we cannot let others take decisions for us all the times. They cannot live our whole life for us: we are beings that are too complex to be reduced to what others just perceive of us or want us to be. I think you may be dealing with perfectionism and fear of failure too: maybe you learned you need to keep specific high standards (in what you say, think, do...) to feel worthy/loved/appreciated, and not living up to them may mean, somehow, that you lost your self worth or it changed (lowered).
But that's not true: your self worth is always the same since the day you came on this Earth and it's the same as the one of everyone else on this planet, even if you cannot see it because of how you were/are treated or treated yoursef. Or feel you were treated: as kids we don't understand the reasons behind adults' behaviours, and if they too are not so emotionally stable or able to verbally explain things, it may be difficult to understand what is going on since we are learning all that from them (= esp. the "authority figures" around us: caregivers/parents/teachers/relatives...). We may make their reaction to us not being "perfect" (= not acting as they would want us to) mean we're not enough, we're bad, not deserving enough, and that we need to perform better to receive something good/praise/love and to obey to them, because we cannot take decisions that are correct. We're a failure and cannot do anything right. And we may risk losing them or them may let us down/abandon us if we don't perform well.
I think you need to move into known water, to know everything is good and will be good, so that you know you won't fail? Or that you won't be considered as "bad", whatever that bad means to you (probably that you're not worthy of something, of others, of... Idk). Not knowing/not having the control means you won't be sure of how things will be and if you will be able to make it, to survive (yes you will), to be considered well and... not abandoned. But if you keep the control of what is going on and get confirmations that you're taking the right decision before taking it definitely, and that all will be fine, you can actually perform well and do things right and be sure of your success and nobody will see you as a loser and leave... right? Well yes, but no. Cause that's not something that you or anyone's actually able to do: we cannot control what's outside of us and know every little detail of it with absolute certainty... And those "authorities" may be wrong as well when taking decisions for you. You may be scared of being you cause you feel like you lack something (you are "unable to do things well", eg.) and people may end up leaving, while if you try to control everything (eg. plan what to say/do based on how others will respond/what they like and not on who you are and what you think for real) instead you'll know that all it's fine and safe and you're okay and they won't leave, and you'll be accepted and a good person. But again, we cannot control it all: many things are not depending on us in this life and probably.. it's about trying to deal with your guilt (an old wound too, again in regards of how you see yourself and think you are seen: "imperfect/flawed", bad) and letting yourself just be you. We're all imperfect and flawed, occasionally bad; we need to forgive ourselves and just be kind with ourselves cause we're trying our best anyway, especially when we're actually trying: it means we're allowing ourselves to take risks and live our life no matter how it will be, but we'll get to live it fully at least. And to decide for our own self. To see what can happen good, to trust that the unknown doesn't have to be bad, nor us, even if we're not "perfect" (remind yourself that perfection is not an absolute dogma, everyone of us has their own definition of perfection, and society has its own as well that btw keeps on changing whether it's physical or about life goals. Someone not liking you doesn't mean nobody likes you). Take control of your fears, talk with them, acknowledge them and love them. Be there for them and yourself: you can do this.
song: just one day | deproducers
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pile 3 (self neglect/emotional avoidance)
You're generally healing a cycle of self neglect. You either dismissed or deemed your experience as less important or worthy, you probably use/d to compare with others a lot and see them as better than you too. Or more deserving. I think you may have disconnected from yourself in order to follow and help others, or out of a huge traumatic experience (nothing strange here: it's a common self defense mechanism). You probably felt responsible for others cause that's what you learned is your duty here (also to survive/save yourself in some way: eg. you had to grow in an "unsafe" environment, so you tried to keep it as emotionally safe as you could by taking charge of making the mood/solving problems that weren't yours to solve, or something like that; you could have learned to read others' emotions by being hypervigilant of their moves/words so to predict their moods and save yourself), but it's not so.
You're trying or are called to come back to yourself. To get back in touch with your core. To do this, it's important to take time for yourself, and do some self reflection (journaling could be a way too: you don't have to write things chronologically or that are reasonable, just let your thoughts/emotions flow). Reconnect with your body too through healing movements (yoga, walking, exercising... as you wish) or simply taking good care of it by giving it rest and the correct supplements it needs. Realize your worth and that you're deserving of receiving and give to yourself, especially time (you have lot!). It's important that you reconnect with yourself also cause that way you can reconnect with your intuition as well and trust yourself again. You may have stopped trusting signs or downloads or even your own feelings or gut instincts, deeming them (and yourself) as wrong, incorrect, likely to fail. But that's just probably a fear of yours: an insecurity that originates from having judged your mistakes too harshly (maybe after having being criticized the same way a lot, or having been caused to feel guilty for unimportant stuff, even unwillingly -cause of other people's issues: especially if you were surrounded by people self criticizing a lot or self talking negatively, you may have picked up this same habit too. But what if instead of "stupid/ignorant" you're just distracted or tired/stressed and therefore you made a mistake, that is very likely solvable too?). On a side note, self trust doesn't mean you feel sure and okay when taking an action. You may still have doubts or not like what you may need to do. We're still humans, and we can trust ourselves and still be scared of being wrong. But our intuition will always tell us if what we're doing is the right thing to do, no matter how it will turn out (intuition may not always be right especially if we're not grounded and also if->).
Your inner critic/wounded ego may be a bit too strict when it comes to you, pretending perfection in you in particular but also around you. Being ready to always point out every little flaw or incongruence that you may see. It may really shut your intuition as well. All this acts as a self defense mechanism: getting what you wish and having your intuition actually pointing you towards that result could be scary, so you tend to find flaws or imperfections in it to keep yourself away from that and safe in a known situation (even if it's not what you want). But we can only end up ruin intuition when trying to look at it through reason/thoughts. You may need a lot of constant reassurance, cause you may tend to overthink a lot and get any little negative sign as the confirmation things aren't going well (at times you may also be so focused on needing a specific answer that you may shut other possible ones out of you: try to stay grounded and open before asking for confirmations or such, especially from your Guides). You may also tend to project your fears and perceived imperfections on others: as Carl Gustav Jung said, we tend to project and judge others first to defend ourselves from their judgement, but it's actually ourselves that we're judging. Not them.
It's okay to put yourself first: as long as you are not trying to impose yourself on/take advantage of others, you're just putting yourself on their same level. And showing yourself you're deserving of as much. And you do. You don't have to always help others reach their goals by giving up on yours, or letting them having what you want: you're too kind for this world, but this world won't give you a prize for doing this. It will just give you nothing (and this also if you're doing it out of fear of actually getting what you want, not just cause you think others are better than you or you better play it safe to feel included/not be let down). So, fight for what you want. Acknowledge your wishes, emotions, desires... yourself. Show how much you care about yourself and stop comparing with others: there will always be someone better than you but not in everything. They may be better at something, but not at everything (put things into perspective). And even if they were better at everything, according to you, are you sure that your definition of better is the same as the rest of the world's one? Or is it personal of your life/you being harsh on you? And what if you can reach their level too instead of feeling inferior them? Or what if you're already there but just cannot see it?... What if you're just different and nobody is worse or better, actually? What if your different is what's is best for someone else, and for you too? It may feel scary, but try to be more balanced when it comes to see your worth and what you can do, who you are. When it comes to trust yourself. There's so much you can have, and already have, don't close your eyes to it our of fear. At times we need to do the scary thing: take ourselves by the hand and move in unknown waters. And it doesn't have to be as unsafe as it seems. Master your ability and knowledge, learn from your emotions instead of shutting them down out of fear of knowing them and their reasons (you may fear finding some hurtful truth in the process: if so, and if it feels too much, ask for help or guidance to someone you trust or a professional figure): they don't want to hurt you, they want to teach you and help you work on what you need in order to get what you deserve and want. Listen to yourself, come back to you.
For a few: Again, don't let your wounds/fears disconnect you from your intuition or make you misunderstand a need of yours with an intuitive hint. At times we may misinterpret signs/symbols because we really need a specific answer/confirmation emotionally/to feel better (especially in hard times). And having any little confirmation (or what we think it's so) can cause us to focus on something generally comforting/entertaining as a way to distract ourselves from the real problem/issue. Focusing on that problem could be too scary/overwhelming so we try to attach ourselves/fixate on other things/ideas/emotions to avoid dealing with the "real" ones. But we may not realize it. And for as comforting as it may look on the surface, it could really be something not good for us, as it may also lead to delusion (related to that specific thing/idea: be mindful, great things will come for you anyway and that's out of question. It's not an absolute no, but a call to see yourself and heal first). Therefore yes, try to focus and know your emotions first after having neglected yourself (and having been neglected) so much. Take good care of you.
song: under the bridge | all saints
[if you're called by pile 1 as well, feel free to take a look]
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pile 4 (discomfort/changing)
You're probably dealing or learning to deal with discomfort in your life. I think maybe you don't feel like you belong with the environment you are in (it may also be about who you are, not just where), and you may feel isolated. Or probably it's a bunch of different reasons, like a huge tower moment you're going through where it seems everything is against you and you cannot find a way out. It's a sad/lonely period, negative period in general and it may be more or less long. Pretty umcomfortable time in general. You're healing and losing sight of what else is going on. You're called to take a look within, into your heart, and like try to bring it back to life (esepcially if you feel "numb" somehow or lost) to realize it can beat again and you have power against all the darkness and negativity around and inside of you. You can still fight for yourself and win. Darkness is also there, the moment we learn how to watch it, to make the light shine brighter. To help us find happiness and peace too. To enjoy the process of change, and that change can actually be good despite the discomfort. And that healing is a part of our life, not all of it.
As humans, we tend to focus on what goes bad and notice all the other things that go as bad, even the smallest ones, losing sight of the little good that is around (as it kind of lose importance in our negative perspective: who cares if the sun is shining again and flowers are blossoming when there's this *negative thing* in my life?). Probably it's a matter of balancing better your thoughts, without letting them spiral and take you places you're not supposed to go (and won't even get to go: when we spiral, we may just end up creating fake thoughts in our mind out of fears and general negativity. This will keep the cycle alive and not let us get out of it but just kind of even attract more bad stuff into our life -or notice it more easily-. When we're more positive/happier, we shine, attract better things and are able to see also the good side and good events that do always happen in our life, despite everything else). When for example we don't get rid of the stress we may pick up in our daily life (even a slightly stressing situation may create an imbalance in our emotional and mental state if we don't get rid of the excess of energy it creates), when we're used to respond with fear/stress/anxiety to specific triggers even if we know we're safe, when we need for things to not change in order to feel safe, when we're tired, sleepy, cannot give our body the correct supplements it needs and feel depleted... we create the perfect inner environment for ourselves to start being overwhelmed and even spiralling or having panic attacks/burnouts at the smallest next stressing event. And the urgency we get to get out of that negativity asap, may just add more stress and pull us further down.
Do not let all these illusions to govern you, whether you create them in your mind, increasing your emotional instability when you start overtinking (even random unreal stuff that you have no proof may happen: our minds tend to fill up the void/the unknown/future with negative/fearful/fake thoughts so to block us in the same old cycle. They do this to keep us safe but we can show them that maybe they don't have to fear the unknown for they don't know how it will be for real) or you allow them to take space in your mind cause you "forget" to take care of you to give them attention. You are the one in control of your emotions and of your choices/priorities: most of the times anxiety originates from overthinking our insecurities and our "inability" (we feel the one always "wrong", lacking, failing... maybe also cause we don't trust our memory. But once you are grounded and trust yourself, your insecurity won't have much power anymore). You can take breaks and give yourself a time out before things get out of control. You can talk with your heart, with yourself, and your inner child too (probably the one who bears most of the stress and fear for various reasons -this may not be your only pile ig), and you can find space and time to disconnect from the stress you are experiencing. You can distract yourself by focusing on more comfortable things, using any of the various methods you can find online (focusing on naming things around you, on your breathing, on feeling your body and where you are/your senses...). You don't have to confront your fears immediately, and again you don't have to follow them. Or you can stop following them. It's not easy, especially at first, to recognize what is happening, so give yourself time and be patient. It's okay to shut those voices inside, and focus on something else, especially on you and what may be your needs at that time: prepare yourself for a bath or treat yourself something, anything that can relax you and nurture you; it's important to give yourself back, especially when you need breaks after working hard so that you realize you did well and can unwind from the stress of it. Especially, take naps if you can or need: I feel pretty drained suddenly. Try to not sleep deprive yourself (ofc overthinking/stressing can be very draining so it may be that that's also not allowing you to sleep/rest properly). If you're scared of sleeping because you may either lose time or have nightmares, remember you have time (plan it well: even a 5-10 minutes nap can work magic) and work on what these fears mean for you and how they originated: what are the nightmares about, what they want to show you about you? Ask for help if you need, also if you cannot deal with the negativity and all that is happening by yourself. For as long as it's good to distract yourself from triggers when you feel too overwhelmed, it's also good to try and check them more closely once you feel more calm/grounded, to see why they're there and what they want to show you about you, what you may still need to heal. What you may need to do to free yourself from this negative cage and see things from a more positive (or at least neutral) perspective. Yes, if you cannot change your mental pattern, work on finding similar sentences to those your mind is suggesting you that may have a more neutral meaning.
When things change, they change emotionally and energetically first (you can feel it in you, despite it not being so clear but just feeling unsettling), and that's what you may need to work on the most. Changing may feel scary and may bring you lot of negativity or mental/emotional traps or make you fall into a negative pattern about how it may be. It may re-open old wounds, even ones you didn't know existed in you. It may give you fallbacks about triggers/issues you thought you healed already (healing is not linear and these are perfectly fine: plus the closer we get to ending a cycle, the stronger they get). But with patience and time, self compassion and forgiveness, you can work through all of them and see them from another pov. You can use them at your advantage too. You can start seeing the good again. Take time to grieve what you're leaving behind, to give yourself proper closure, and move on. Stay balanced and present, enjoy also whatever else life is offering you at the moment, and do not discard anything out of fear of not being healed yet (being healed also means we do not react unheathily/anxiously to triggers anymore, not necessarily that we do not get triggered anymore; and we don't know what experiences we may need to make in order to "complete" our healing process or check it: trust your balanced self).
song: forward motion | daya
320 notes · View notes
janeyseymour · 8 days
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personal and professional 1-3 was soooooo good it gave me an idea!
a mel x work crush reader story in which cute shy fem reader has a sleeper build. usually wearing regular lose fit clothing until one day they have to wear a fancy skirt and heels bringing attention to readers muscular legs. abbott crew starts asking reader questions about her workout routine leading a jealous melissa to make a snarky comment about reader skipping arm day to which reader says something like don’t let the outfit fool you i could bench you right now heels and all. melissa keeps pushing readers buttons until reader grabs melissa and starts overhead pressing with absolutely no issue to prove their point leaving melissa stunned. idk maybe it ends with melissa asking reader on a date that day after school?
Press You (Up Against a Wall)
WC: 3.3k
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You were hired as the long term substitute gym teacher at Willard R. Abbott Elementary School in January, but when the teacher who was out on maternity leave decided to leave the position permanently- that she can’t even believe she stayed there throughout her pregnancy in the first place- you were brought on for the full-time position. So, now you’re Abbott’s official gym teacher, and you couldn’t be more thrilled.
Really, any physical education teacher position is a score in your mind because showing up to school in sweatpants or joggers everyday is any teacher’s dream come true. But Abbott is so nice because you can pretty much do whatever you want with the kids- including dodgeball, which is banned at most schools. 
Under all of your gym clothes, you have a nice body- you’ll be the first one to admit that. Working out six days a week along with having a well balanced diet doesn’t go to waste. None of the teachers, or Ava for that matter, know that you’re a bit of a gym rat- okay, a really big gym rat. Sure, they know you’re athletic and that you’re slim, but they haven’t seen your legs- probably the best part about your body. You’re thankful for that because up until now, you’ve evaded the principal’s flirtatious personality and comments. 
The only person who knows how in shape you are is Mr. Johnson because you help him move things or fix things when necessary. He’s immensely grateful and has promised to keep your hidden figure a secret- he knows how you don’t want to be hit on like Gregory is.
But now, you’re being forced to go to PECSA, and you really don’t know why you have to go, but the school is paying for your hotel room, and you don’t have to attend any of the seminars based on curriculum because you don’t teach any of the core subjects (you had thoughts on that title… physical education was one of the most important for those kids to be participating in if they wanted to grow to be strong and healthy adults).
So while everyone else is supposed to be at their seminars, you sleep in before heading down to the gym to get your daily workout in.
After you’re finished, you head back up to your hotel room and shower before changing into an old band t-shirt, a light sweatshirt, and a pair of joggers. Deciding that you have enough time to explore and just soak everything in, you exit your hotel room.
As you go to back away from your door, so is Melissa Schemmenti- donned in a bathing suit as opposed to the clothes that she should be clad in to attend different seminars.
“Hey, Schemmenti,” you look her up and down. 
“Y/N,” Melissa looks you up and down too. “Don’t tell anyone, but Barb ’n’ I haven’t gone to a single one of those dumb jawns. All for the newbies.”
You mime zipping your lips before letting out a chuckle. “You’ll be at the big party though, right?”
“Hell yeah I will be. I have a math-o-rita chugging champion title to maintain,” she smirks.
“Good. I don’t think I could survive the Abbott crew without you to keep me company,” you blush as you tell her that. “Not that I don’t like the others, but… you know what I mean.”
“I gotchu,” she smiles. “Just stick with me and Barb, and you’ll be fine.”
You nod. “You mind if I join you now?”
“If you can get changed in the next few-”
“Nah, I don’t wanna swim, I just wanna relax in the presence of others,” you lie a little. You really just want to be in her presence.
You and her meet the kindergarten teacher down by the pool, and Barb’s eyes widen just slightly when she sees that Melissa brought you.
“Hello, sweetheart,” she still greets you kindly. “Decided to ditch the seminars?”
“I don’t have to go to most of them,” you laugh softly as you tuck a hair behind your ear. “Just the ones that have to do with PBIS and all of that. Other than that, I’ve just been kind of wandering. Saw Melissa, and I tagged along.”
“And she didn’t tell you to beat it?” Barbara raises a brow.
Melissa shrugs. “She looked like a lost puppy dog, so I took her under my wing.”
Little do you or Barbara know, she has had quite the thing for you since you first walked into the building and greeted her while she was bringing her kids down to special. And then when you spoke to her so shyly, but then she could hear you command the gymnasium to gain control of her class- it really struck a chord with her, and she was taken with you. She would never tell you that, and actually was a bit tougher on you than she was with others, but you have her figured out. She seems to be a bit tougher on those she likes rather than just ignore the ones who she tolerates or just genuinely doesn’t enjoy the presence of. 
“I can go if-”
“You’re with us now. Don’t be an idiot,” Melissa rolls her eyes. 
You bite your bottom lip nervously. “Okay, okay.”
You relax in the lounge chair next to her, and you have to admit it’s a little warmer than you were anticipating it being in here (foolishly… it’s an indoor pool area, what we’re you expecting?). So you shrug off your jacket, tie your hair up, and hike your sweatpants up to your knees.
If Barbara and Melissa notice your calves, they don’t say anything.
You end up falling asleep with your arms protectively wrapped around yourself, and you don’t wake until you feel someone gently shaking you.
“Hun, it’s time to get up.” You jolt awake, clearly terrified as your eyes go wide and your breathing gets deeper for a second. But then you look up, and there’s… well, there’s Melissa’s cleavage in your face, and then a bit further up are her emerald eyes. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.”
“It’s ‘kay,” you mumble as you yawn and stretch a bit. “Sorry I fell asleep on youse.”
“Aye, no problem at all,” she smiles down at you. “Just didn’t wanna leave you down here to think Barb and I abandoned ship, but we’re gonna start getting ready for the party.”
“I guess I should too,” you sigh softly as you stand.
You and the redhead head up to your rooms and start to get ready.
It doesn’t take you long to get ready. You really just throw on the dress you brought- one that accentuates your legs- before applying a light amount of makeup. You run your fingers through your hair as you glance in the mirror. You look good. Deciding that you would rather not kill your feet just yet though, you wait to put on your heels.
A bit later, you hear a knock on your door as you’re laying in bed and scrolling through Instagram. You stand and make your way to the door before looking out the peephole. It’s Melissa, and she looks… stunning. Her hair is in big curls, and she has a beautiful green dress on that only makes her eyes pop even more.
“Hey,” you breathe out softly. “You look… wow.”
She gives you a once over. “I could say the same things about you.”
Your cheeks turn red at her compliment and her lingering eyes on your body.
“You ready? I want a math-o-rita in my hand, and the lines will get ridiculous later on,” she tells you. “And this way we can save a table for our group.”
“Y-yeah,” you say softly as you continue to stare at her. “Just let me put on my shoes.”
She nods as she leans against the doorframe and watches. Then, you give her a nod, make sure you have your lipgloss and keycard, and head out.
When you get down there, she immediately heads towards the bar and quickly returns with two drinks in hand. She hands one to you, and the two of you clink your glasses together. You take a nice swig of it in hopes of relaxing. By the time the rest of your group joins you, both of you are on your second drink.
“You two are here early,” Barbara notes as she looks between the two of you. “Are we interrupting something?”
Melissa rolls her eyes. “We got here a little early to get a table.”
“You both look so nice!” Janine grins from next to her work mother.
You smile at her politely. “You as well.”
“I never really took you for a gym rat, although I suppose I should’ve,” Gregory chuckles. “Damn.”
“Seriously,” Jacob eyes you. “In the most gay way possible, I am looking respectfully.”
“What’s your workout routine?” Gregory asks you.
Happy to talk about anything other than work, you begin to list off the various leg exercises you do. Almost everyone is hanging onto your every word. At least that’s what it looks like. They’re all looking at you like you’re a star- all except the one you want to be looking at you: Melissa. She instead picking at her nails and sipping at her drink. The truth of it is, she is also listening to every word, and she’s beginning to get jealous of the way that everyone is ogling you and your legs. She doesn’t want that to show.
When you’re finished, she bites back a laugh. “Guess we skip arm days?”
“Don’t let the outfit fool you,” you chuckle. “My arms may look small, but they’re defined.”
“Compared to your legs,” she rolls her eyes.
“I could bench you,” you laugh back. “Heels and all.”
“Now that is something that I would love to see,” Barbara chuckles. She ignores the death glare your redheaded coworker sends her way.
“You will not,” Melissa states. “Not in this dress.”
“Maybe I’ll just do some bicep curls with you in my arms then,” you challenge her.
“I doubt you could,” she bites out. “Not with those chicken arms.”
You roll your eyes. “One of these days, you’ll see.”
“Sure I will.”
She continues to push your buttons throughout the night, and with the alcohol that you’ve taken in, she teases you.
“Couldn’t press me now, could you?”
“I could press you up against a wall,” you flirt shamelessly, liquid courage acting as your friend.
Her cheeks turn a violent shade of pink, and you grin.
“Get your mind out of the gutter,” you smirk. “I meant that I could squat against the wall and lift you up over my head.”
“That is not what you meant, and you know it,” she scolds you.
You shrug your shoulders innocently. “You’ll never know what I meant, now will you?”
After another round of drinks, she’s still teasing you. You finally decide that you want to put her incessant comments to and end. So, you sweep her off of her feet, heels and all. You make sure that her dress is appropriate before doing a few bicep curls with her in your arms.
She’s stunned, to say the least.
And then, with one little jerk, she’s up over your head. You bring her back down to your arms and hold her there.
“You ready to shut up yet?” you tease her, looking down at her lips.
Her eyes are wide and clearly impressed. She can’t even find the words right now.
“You ready?” you ask again.
She just nods her head, and you set her back down on her feet. You keep an arm around her until she’s found her footing again.
“That was really hot,” Jacob states. You jump slightly, not realizing he was there. “In the least creepy way possible. I had no idea you were that strong.”
“Most people don’t,” you chuckle as you down the rest of your drink. You wink at Melissa as you make your way over to the bar. “I got the next round. Another math-o-rita?”
She nods again as she makes her way back to your table. Barbara is sitting there with a smirk. “She put on quite the show.”
The redhead’s eyes linger on you as you stand at the bar and try to get the attention of the bartender. “Yeah,” she hums noncommittally.
“Girl, when are you just going to ask her out?” the kindergarten teacher asks.
That pulls Melissa out of her trance. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that I’ve seen the way you stare at her and the pep in your step when your kids have gym,” Barbara snorts. “Even in just her joggers and Abbott sweatshirt. You like her.”
“I mean, yeah… she’s a nice woman,” the second grade teacher tries to brush off her friend’s assumption.
“No, you like her.”
“So what if I do?” Melissa asks as she folds her arms over her chest. “There ain’t no way she would ever like me back.”
“She’s been practically drooling over you since she saw you in your swimsuit earlier today, and she’s currently buying you a drink,” Barbara laughs.
“We’ve bought each other drinks before.”
“But I don’t drool over you in a bathing suit, and I know you don’t drool over me,” the kindergarten teacher snorts. “Just ask her out.”
“Maybe when I’m sober,” Melissa rolls her eyes. 
You start to make your way back over, and the redhead can’t help the way that she watches your hips sway.
“You’re drooling,” Barbara nudges her friend.
“Shut up,” Melissa laughs. She takes the drink that you offer her with a grin. The two of you raise your glasses in a toast before you link arms and chug.
You wipe the liquid that had made its way around your mouth with a chuckle. “Give me twenty minutes, and I’ll still be able to lift ya, no problem.”
You wrap your arm around her waist and squeeze her hip gently, the liquid courage once again taking over.
She blushes, but she quickly gets swept away by Derek, challenging her to yet another math-o-rita chugging challenge.
That leaves you and Barbara sitting at the table together.
“So,” the kindergarten teacher nudges you. “When are you gonna make a move on that redhead you were curling earlier?”
You raise a brow. “What do you mean?”
“When are you gonna ask her out? I heard you tell her you could press her up against a wall, and you and I both know you didn’t mean that in an innocent way,” she chuckles.
You shrug. “Maybe when I’m positive she likes me. I ain’t about to make a fool out of myself and then have to work with her.”
“I think she made it pretty clear she likes you with the way she’s been practically undressing you with her eyes all night,” the kindergarten teacher tells you. 
You laugh. “No she hasn’t.” When she raises a brow and hits you with the trademarked Barbara Howard look, you sigh. “Okay, maybe when we’re both sober… if I can ever work up the nerve.”
“Just give it some thought, sweetheart,” Barb tells you. “Melissa… she’s a tough cookie, but she’s got the biggest heart I know of, and as much as she tries not to, she wears it on her sleeve.”
You nod thoughtfully before smiling. “You think she’d say yes to a date with me?”
“No question,” your colleague tells you.
You think on it for a second, and you go to speak again- to tell Barbara that you might just ask her tonight- when you hear Melissa loudly calling your name.
“Hun! I need a cheerleader so I can absolutely kick Derek’s ass again!”
You look over in her direction and raise a brow, questionably.
“Please, babe!”
Oh, you know she’s so drunk. You can’t ask her out on a date, a serious one, when she’s as hammered as she is. You roll your eyes playfully but saunter over.
She slings an arm around your waist before she gets another drink. Without any hesitation, she chugs the entirety of it before Derek can finish even half of his. You’re impressed to say the least. After she slams down the empty glass to prove she’s finished, she kisses your cheek in celebration.
Not that either of you know it, but Barbara has a video of it.
It’s a bit longer before the two of you finally decide to retire to your rooms for the night… you’re both quite a bit intoxicated, and the redhead practically hangs off of you as you help her down the hall.
Of course, when you go to turn to your own room, she grabs your arm. “Come in?”
“Yeah, I can,” you tell her gently. “Just let me change, and I’ll be over.”
She gives you her best puppy dog eyes, but you insist. “Mel, I really don’t want to be in this dress longer than I have to be.”
“But you look… stunning.”
“While I appreciate the compliment, I would like to get comfortable.”
She relents and turns into her own room. When you knock on her door again, she’s still in her dress though, with the sweetest frown on her face.
“I can’t get out of this,” she tells you. “Stupid zipper.”
You enter her room before spinning her around gently. You unzip it with ease.
“Jeez, take me out on a date before you start undressing me,” she quips teasingly.
You see the opportunity in front of you, and you take it. “How about tomorrow at seven?”
“Only if you show up with those legs out again,” she flirts back.
“It’s a date.”
The two of you spend a few hours chatting and having a few more drinks in her room- beers she brought with her to pre-game before your really do head back to your room to get some much needed sleep.
As you pull the blankets around you, you smile to yourself. You know that she isn’t going to remember you asked her out tonight, but you think that you have the courage to do it again sober now.
The next morning comes, and Melissa comes out of her room with her hood up, sunglasses over her eyes, and she’s drinking Pedialyte through a straw as she wheels her luggage out.
You roll your eyes at her fondly. “Hey there,” you greet her, entirely too perky for her liking at this hour and in her state.
“How are you not dying?” she asks.
You smirk. “I didn’t have a chugging challenge with Derek last night.”
“Eh, worth it to keep my title,” she shrugs.
“You better rally for tonight. You have a date.”
“What?” she lowers her sunglasses so you can see the shock in her eyes.
You smirk. “You have a date… with me.”
The smiles that she breaks out into could light up all of Philly alone. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”
With that, you leave her to continue to nurse the hangover for the car ride home with Barbara as you race off to check out of the hotel and head home. You have a date to plan.
Melissa waits down in the lobby for Barbara to finish packing up her weekend bags. When the kindergarten teacher comes over, the redhead, although clearly hungover, is deep in her own thoughts. 
“What’s got you looking like smoke is about to come out of your head this early in the morning?”
“I have a date with Y/N tonight.”
“About damn time,” Barbara smiles. “Let’s get you home so you can nurse that hangover and be ready for her.”
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quintinh43 · 8 days
Text
BFF's 4 Life
Set in the world of Loving You Is As Easy as ABC 123
Here are my head cannons, on before Quinn and the reader became a couple.
You and Quinn lived together for eight months before he finally found a place for himself. In that time the two of you grew very close.
Quinn was very sad to leave and debated just staying with you, but in the end he decided to go through with the move because his new place was closer to Rogers arena.
He did try to convince you to move in with him, but you didn't because your apartment was closer to the university and work.
Quinn would come into the coffee shop that you worked at every time you were working. And every time, without fail, you would present him with some obscene concoction of sugar and caffine that no one had ever heard of.
"I swear to god, i'm gonna get diabetes because of you." Yet without fail he would drink every last drop.
During covid, you started going on morning runs because otherwise, you would've gone crazy. Especially having all of your uni classes online.
Quinn started joining you after a while because he was also going crazy, and the runs really really helped, especially because he got to do them with you.
You were also the one who taught Quinn how to cook during this time. And you were genuinely infuriated when he became a better cook than you. "I'll never forgive you" you grumble, while Quinn cackles as he pulls burnt aspargus out of the oven. "Student becomes the master" he shrugs, and you throw a handful of asparagus at him.
When Quinn got covid, you showed up at his apartment covered head to toe, complete with gloves, a mask, and eyewear, holding a container of chicken noodle soup.
Quinn laughed, immediately took a photo and then proceeded to launch into a coughing fit so bad he turned the colour of a tomato.
At which point you took a photo of him. The two of you keep the photos as blackmail, and if either of you were to ever use them, all hell would break loose.
You own so so so much canuck gear, it's unhinged (courtesy of Quinn of course.) You joked about starting to sell some stuff on eBay, and Quinn looked so genuinely distraught that you never made that joke again.
When you officially started teaching, all the canuck gear came in handy. Especially when you were being lazy and didn't have time to pick an outfit.
At first everyone thought you were just a Canuck super-fan, until one day Quinn had to drop you off at work because your car was in the shop.
Then of course everyone though the two of you were dating. Which got really annoying.
The first time you officially brought Quinn to class was because he had a full day off and didn't know what to do with himself. He begged you to take the day off to spend it with him, but "Some of us have real jobs Quinn."
"Hey! My job is real"
"Well, unfortunately for you I can't just not show up. You had to have given me at least a two day notice so I could've found a substitute."
"Y/nnnnn," he whined, flopping off your bed dramatically while you finished getting dressed. "What am I supposed to do all day?"
" If you're really so concerned about being bored to death, get dressed and come help me be a glorified babysitter for the day" you snorted
Quinn's head snapped up excitedly "wait seriously?"
You were joking, but it happened anyway.
The kids were so well-behaved that you debated bringing Quinn to work with you every day.
Whenever you were on a break, Quinn pestered you to be hanging out with him the whole time. Which usually ended up with recipe expiramenting, Quinn helping you mark papers and lesson plan, or Quinn dragging you along to practice/games/events etc.
One time, he even pestered you to come on a week long roadie with him during winter break. To which you declined - because that was definitely stepping over a 'best friend' relationship line, and you were under the firm impression that Quinn would never love you the way you loved him.
The guys always teased him mercilessly about being in love with you.
"For fucks sake, Huggy. Are you blind? Do you see the way she looks at you?"
After Quinn became captain, whenever his teammates threatened to tell you that he was in love with you he threatened to make them do bag skates for an entire practice.
They shut up really quick after that.
The team loves you, and they always say that whenever they have kids they are sending them to the school you teach at.
Whenever Quinn watched you interact with Kids he gets a little starry eyed and drooly.
Quinn is a very common topic of conversation in your classroom. You often use him as your muse whenever you're doing projects.
He loves it, and he keeps every single piece you've done on him. From art projects, to Health projects.
You even managed to use him in a math project once. (You used little cutouts of his head as addition blocks, he laughed so hard he was crying.)
If Quinn has a game on a week day, you try to wear some form of his merchandise, and he always asks for a fit picture.
Quinn never ever ever let you pay for anything. "You don't even make 1/10th of my salary"
"Way to make a girl feel good about her job,"
"Wait, I didn't mean it like that im sor- no wait. I'm not insulting your job, I'm insulting the people that pay you. You are literally raising our future generations, and the government pays you like trash. If anything, our salaries should be reversed. I basically work in the entertainment industry."
"Ok, well I can still afford to pay for my own shit" you grumble.
Quinn rolls his eyes. "Don't be so stubborn. Put your plastic bank card away. it's insulting in my presence"
"Sorry we don't all have metal fucking credit cards that make noise when we drop them" you spit back.
It continues to be a fight every. single. time.
Whenever you do somehow manage to pay, Quinn is fuming and throughly debates not talking to you for a week.
He never lasts more than a couple hours.
Whenever Quinn left for the summer, you got really lonely. Especially because as a teacher, you had the whole summer off.
He always invited you to come to Michigan with him, but there was always a nagging in your head about "crossing the best friend line"
One summer, you decided to teach summer school for high-schoolers to keep yourself busy. And it was fucking hell. Hormonal sweaty teenagers trying to learn a subject in three weeks rather than four months was so so bad.
Quinn gladly listened to you complain every day, "shoulda come to michigan with me." He would shrug
"Mom and dad have been asking about you," he would throw in quietly.
Which leads us into your relationship with Quinn's family.
Over the six years that the two of you have been friends you've met his parents and both his brothers.
Luke was fourteen, and Jack was sixteen when you met them for the first time.
They both fell IN LOVE with you.
They would call you to ask for homework help, often saying something like, "You're a teacher, what do i do?"
"I'm not a teacher yet, guys. I still have to finish my degree, you know." You would laugh awkwardly and help them anyways.
You blamed both Jack and Luke for the dreadful summer you taught high-schoolers. Simply because you had enjoyed teaching Jack and Luke so much, you thought it would be the same.
They had much the same response as their shithead older brother "you should've come to michigan"
As they grew and saw how you and Quinn looked at each other, they would tease him mercilessly as good brothers do.
"Dude, if you don't confess, I'll marry her." sixteen year old Luke would smirk
That had Quinn seething, and it was quite funny. "You fucking imbecile."
"Mom! Quinn called me a bad word!"
Jack was often cackling in the background or telling Quinn to stop being the world's biggest dumbass.
The day you saw Luke in person and he had grown taller than you, you collapsed dramatically into his arms and pinched his cheeks aggressively. Crying about your favourite little kiddo being all grown up.
Ever the awkward teenager Luke just blushed and grumbled about not being a baby.
Whenever Jack and Luke visit Vancouver, they always ask to visit your classroom.
The first time all three NHL superstar hughes brothers were in your classroom it was fucking chaos throughout the entire school. You got yelled at by the principal, and they had to leave while the cops chased away reporters.
The four of you will never forget the dressing down you got in the principals office that day. It felt like you were a group of playground bullies getting scolded for pushing kids off the slide.
"This is getting brought up at ALL of our weddings." Jack grins as the boys hug you goodbye and head over to Quinn's place.
"Yeah, all three weddings," Luke says with a mischievous grin.
Both you and Quinn blush and choose to ignore Luke's statement.
Until he's winking at you over dramatically and making duck lips at you. The Quinn is dragging him towards the car by his ear and promising to pick you up when school is out.
The way luke can swing between awkward twenty-year old and Youngest child menace is so funny to you.
Now onto Ellen and Jim
They also absolutely love you.
They have loved you since you were freshly nineteen and offering up your apartment for Quinn, when all you knew about him was that he was an anxious teenager.
Jim gives the best advice. He's especially knowledgeable when it comes to kids, "its not very different than dealing with grown men who strap blades to their feet and call it a job." He says teasingly, while all his kids protest.
Ellen is the sweetest angel of a human you have ever met. She takes no nonsense from her kids, and always makes sure Quinn is good to you.
She has a knowing twinkle in her eye when she sees you and Quinn together and it makes your chest ache a little.
Her hugs are always long, and her words sweet, and she always reminds you that you have a family with the Hughes no matter what.
---
Hey guys! Guess who's back and better than ever 😎 we're getting a fic between tomorrow and Saturday, so stay tuned. Anyways, I hope yall like this! If there's anything from here you'd like to see turned into a blurb/fic let me know! I've been super inspired for this universe as of late. Also I am going through the requests in my inbox. So if you requested something it's hopefully coming soon! I've been super busy with school, but it's calming down for a couple weeks and then finals will be in full swing! I love you all and I hope you enjoy this! As always comment comment comment! And I hope you guys are doing amazing.
Love Soph 🫶🏼🫶🏼
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bubblotl · 7 months
Text
extremely self indulgent fic featuring potion brewing gone wrong ;)
contains: lots of burping, bloating, air inflation (kind of)
enjoy!
it is, in a word, fucking freezing. two words. whatever.
ashley sniffles and tugs the blanket around her shoulders a bit tighter. the heater had broken the day prior—perfect timing, too, since the cold snap had arrived a day earlier than was forecasted. ashley would be able to fix it (not the first time that old thing’s broken, after all) but her hands were numb and brain foggy from the chill.
hence why selena is currently putting her novice potioneer skills to use by brewing up something to keep them warm in the meantime.
“cinnamon… cayenne… fire root, yeah, i got all that… whiskey? uhhhh…” selena roots through the cabinets and emerges with a hard seltzer. “hm. i think this is all we have.”
“probably just needs the alcohol, ‘lena,” ashley says. “same thing.”
selena squints at the recipe book. “it does only call for a little…”
ashley gives a hard shiver, and that’s all it takes to convince selena to crack the can open.
“aaaaand… done! just gotta-“ she lights a match with a quick spell and drops it into the center of the pot. it dissolves into magic as it hits the surface of the bubbling liquid, giving the potion the characteristic sheen of a magically-imbued substance.
ashley hops off her chair to peer into the pot. “that looks right.”
“maybe. i wish this thing had pictures or something.” selena flips through her recipe book. “is it supposed to be that bubbly?”
“it was just boiling. speaking of which, a burned mouth would be a relief right about now. where’s that fancy potion ladle?”
selena retrieves the fancy ladle from its fancy case. “let me try it first, please. just in case.”
somewhat impatiently, ashley waits as selena takes a cautious sip of the potion out of the ladle. a few seconds pass, and when her head doesn’t explode, selena nods and hands ashley a bowl. “careful, it’s a little spicy.”
practically the second the potion hits the bottom of the bowl, ashley lifts it to her mouth and downs it in one go. selena makes an alarmed noise. “ash!”
a little spicy is an understatement, as it always is coming from selena, but ashley forgives that as an immediate warmth blossoms in the base of her belly. it seeps into her chest next, warming her frozen heart and lungs, then spreads down her limbs until her chills are forgotten.
“did it work?” selena asks nervously.
“i could kiss you. i can kiss you. i am going to kiss you.” ashley scoops selena into a hug, pressing a kiss—a warm kiss—on her lips. “yeah, it worked. so, so many thanks.”
selena laughs and kisses ashley on the jaw. “good! i’m glad. now let me go so i can have some, you goober.”
“aye aye.” ashley releases selena to mock salute. “i’m gonna go fight our bastard heater. wish me luck.”
“me luck!” selena calls after her, sticking her tongue out as ashley heel-turns to make a face at her. then she turns the corner into the office and disappears.
selena sighs, a contented smile curving her lips. she scoops herself a ladleful of potion and pours the leftovers into one of her potionwares, a cute little magically-tempered-glass pumpkin. she already feels warmer as she curls her hands around the bowl of shimmering orange liquid. unlike ashley, however, she takes this as a reason to sip it slowly. now where is that book she was reading…?
————————————
by the sixth or seventh airy burp selena muffles into a fist in under five minutes, she’s starting to suspect that seltzer is not, in fact, a good substitute for whiskey in a potion recipe.
she sets her book aside to frown down at her stomach, which is a touch bloated and burbling quietly, sending up tiny bubbles of air with increasing frequency. she pokes at it. it grumbles in response.
in all likelihood, the seltzer just added carbonation (she’s never reacted well to it) but something tells her to go check on ashley anyway. so she rises from her comfy armchair, stifles another burp, and heads towards the office.
she knocks on the doorframe and pokes her head in. “ash? how’s it going?”
ashley barely looks up from her pile of space heater parts. “going good. finished your book or something?”
she shakes her head. “no, i just wanted to-ourp, sorry- to make sure you were feeling okay. i think the potion made me a little burpy.”
that gets ashley’s attention. “aw, cute. i feel fine, though, don’t worry about me. i’m just a little bloated, if anything.”
the universe must have a sense of comedic timing, ashley decides, because that is when her belly chooses to give an ominous grumble.
they both blink at it. “…huh.” ashley says. “that’s- oh.”
“what? what’s oh?” selena asks, alarm rising in her tone. “what’s happening?”
“it’s- it doesn’t feel bad, it just feels like my stomach is—“ ashley cups her hands on either side of it. “um, bubbly?”
“like soda bubbly?” selena comes closer to look at it, kneeling down to place her own hand on the front of ashley’s belly. it burbles as if in response.
“yeah, kind of, just… bigger.”
selena feels the heat of the potion radiating from its source in ashley’s belly. it swells, growing more top heavy as air bubbles gather just under her ribs, and it clicks all of a sudden. she slaps her free hand to her forehead. “oh, biscuits. hot air balloons.”
ashley laughs nervously. “i’m uh. i’m gonna need more explanation that that, ‘lena.”
“air expands and rises as it gets hotter. the bubbles from the seltzer are getting all worked up in there. i’m sorry, ash, i should have- uorp- remembered. excuse me.”
“oh. ohhhhh.” ashley visibly relaxes. “that’s like, nothing. don’t even worry about it. ‘sides, you drank it, too.” she reaches over to give selena’s side a pat, grinning when it dislodges another tiny burp. “worst case scenario, i’ll get a bit gassy. no biggie.”
“mmm… still, i’m sorry. i’ll be more careful next time. do you want some tea or something to settle your tummy?”
ashley waves a hand. “maybe in a bit, but really, i’m just a little bloated. i’m gonna finish up here and then i’ll take a pepto, alright?”
“if you’re sure.” selena stands, punctuating the movement with a quiet burp. she kisses the top of ashley’s head. “but come get me if you start to feel bad.”
“deal.”
————————————
the next time selena puts down her book, it’s to the sound of ashley opening the door. she bookmarks her page and looks up, smiling, intending on asking ashley how the heater maintenance went.
what she sees stops her in her tracks.
ashley is officially beyond bloated. her belly is taut, swollen, and distended, especially around where the air has gathered. the bottom of it hasn’t been neglected, either- the offending bowlful of potion has settled into a soft roundness that peeks over the top of her sweatpants. her shirt, which once hung several centimeters over her waistband, has ridden almost halfway up the swell at the top of her belly, revealing a sliver of blushed-pink skin.
she smiles sheepishly. “hey.”
selena’s jaw hangs open in surprise. the first words out of her mouth are: “holy shit.”
ashley laughs. “you said it, hahhHHHUurp! …ngh.”
the quiet noise shakes selena out of her stunned stupor. “oh no, does it hurt?”
“not… god- RRHHURP- not really, it’s just tight. and a little uncomfortable,” ashley admits.
“i’m not surprised. look at your poor belly! come on, sit down.”
ashley has one hand braced on her taut stomach as she makes her way over to the couch. she doesn’t even try to lower herself carefully onto it, well aware that any attempt to bend at the waist right now would prove fruitless. instead, she turns and flops onto the soft cushions, jostling an eager burp up.
“BHHURP! ugh, hold on,” she groans. she smacks a hand against her chest to knock another huge bubble of air loose. “hhHHURRHP! phew. ‘scuse me.”
“don’t apologize. it looks like you needed that.” the impressive display had softened the tight curve at the top of ashley’s belly, but as selena watches, it regains its shape in seconds, new air bubbles taking the place of the escapees. she winces in sympathy.
ashley brings a lazy fist to her mouth as another long burp rises up her throat. “hhhHHUUuuuUuUurghp… ugh, they just won’t stop.”
selena sits next to her as carefully as she can, but even that slight dip in the couch cushions dislodges a small burp. “it doesn’t look like they will anytime soon, sweetheart. you’ve got a lot of air in there.”
“no khhhHHUURP!-no kidding. mm, help?”
“gladly.” selena brings her hands to ashley’s belly, exploring her magic-warmed skin. it has almost no give beneath her fingers. even her most gentle prodding elicits a hiss of discomfort and a forceful belch from ashley.
“HGURKP! rrrp- ow. sorry, not your fault, it’s just so… uuuUUUUURRP! -tight, god, i can baaURely t- talk.” her voice is colored by the strained lowness that precedes a burp.
“it’s okay. let’s try something new. can you sit up a little more for me?”
ashley pushes herself off the back of the sofa with a quiet grunt of effort. the rounded underside of her belly presses into her thighs, dislodging a string of burps.
“uuUURRHHP. URRP. phew- hhghhUURP! god, okay, enoUuhhrrgh.” ashley takes a deep breath, hand on her belly. “got it. now what?”
“lean forward.” ashley does so, if gingerly. “perfect, love, you’re doing great. tell me if this hurts, okay?”
at ashley’s nod, selena places one hand on the crest of her stomach and the other on her back. she stops to marvel, briefly, at how remarkably huge ashley is. then she pats her back. gentle, at first.
“ohhh, that feels whhrrreird…”
“badweird or just weirdweird?”
“weirdweird. maybe even goodweird? ooh-“ ashley squirms, readjusting the hand on her belly. “hold on, something’s- BHAAAAAUUURRRPPP!” the belch practically explodes from her. selena swears she can feel ashley’s belly shrink.
“that sounded like it needed to come up!” selena giggles.
ashley laughs breathlessly. “HGHRP- ha, yeah. felt fantastic.”
selena smiles. “good to hear, because there’s plenty more where that came from.”
ashley smirks and pats her belly. “oh trust me, I- urp- I know.”
selena slides her hands down to the sides of the dome protruding from ashley’s clothes. she gives it the lightest of squeezes, and ashley immediately groans and shifts. she doesn’t bother to muffle the string of belches that follows.
“URP! OuUuurp! uuUURRAAP! god- urp- i really did a number on- urp- on my stomach, didn’t i?”
“if anything, it’s my fault.” selena rubs her thumb over a grumbly spot under her hand, and ashley lurches forward with a belch. “goodness, your belly doesn’t even need my help burping!”
“mm… keep your hands there anyway. feels- urhp- feels good.” ashley shifts again, expression belying her pleasure as selena resumes rubbing gently.
“gladly,” selena says, and presses another well-formed burp out of her girlfriend’s taut belly.
“HHRRAAAAAAUUURRRP!”
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sturniololoco · 3 months
Text
Stressed Out
Sturniolo Little Sisiter (SLS) x The Sturniolo Triplets.
Warnings: Kinda panic attack & some flufffffff
Summary: You get stressed and take it out on your brothers, but they help you out of it.
SLS's POV
You woke up this morning, already feeling like it was gonna be a bad day; and you were right.
To start off, you woke up late, burned your toast, missed the bus, got your big brother mad at you for missing the bus, and then, to top it all off, you had to suffer the car ride to school in silence sitting next to your grumpy brother.
-
Your school day sucked too. Your friend wasn't there today, so you had to sit by yourself in chemistry, with a mean teacher substituting the class. Then, when she finally let you go to the restroom, you found out that you were on your period, meaning you had to go all the way down to the nurse's office to get a tampon/pad, then walk all the way back to the bathroom to use it. When you got back to class, the sub sent you back down the stairs to the office for taking so long in the bathroom.
-
I suppose the only good part of the day was explaining my whole bathroom situation. He just looked at me in shock after I told him my non-sugar-coated bathroom story.
"Why don't I just call your brothers to come pick you up, sounds like you've already had a pretty hard day," he says, averting my eyes and picking up the phone to call my brothers,
-
just when I thought things were looking up, they went straight down.
Nicked walked into the office. I hopped up out of my chair and practically threw my backpack on my back while he signed me out. Once my brother caught my eye, however, I could tell he was not happy with me.
We walked back to the car in silence, and Nick and I hopped in the backseat. Matt began driving, no one talking, no music. silence.
I leaned my face against the car window, bringing my knees up to my chest. I began to feel the emotion stabbing at my eyes and the back of my throat. I squeeze my eyes shut tight.
-
We pulled into the driveway and I was quick to get out of the car, unlocking the door with my key. Before my brothers even shut their car doors, I was running up to my room and slamming my door shut.
I crumpled in the middle of my floor, finally letting my emotions out. The bottled-up tears were now pouring down my face as I sobbed into my hand, covering my mouth and trying my best to stay quiet.
That wasn't a problem.
My throat was beginning to close with every sharp inhale I took, trying to get myself together.
This has happened before though. Slowly hoisting myself off the floor, I slugged my way over to my bathroom, ripping the drawer open, and pulling out my inhaler. I then re-crumpled onto the bathroom floor and began to get myself together.
Matt's POV
I was upset, to say the least. After hearing about the phone call Nick got from my sister's school on top of what happened this morning! What on earth has gotten into her. She's never been one to make trouble, she's a good kid, always has been.
"God damn it. Okay lets go." I say, grabbing my keys and going to ick up SLS/N.
Nick ran in to sign her out. I sighed and leaned my head against the window. Chris rubbed my arm sensing something was up.
"Chris, I don't know what to do, this isn't like her," I say. He looks at me and gives me a pitty smile.
"Maybe she's having a rough day. we all have those, right?" He replies, still rubbing a comforting hand up and down my arm.
I then see Nick walk out of the building, followed by my sister, so I go back to acting natural.
SLS's POV
Once my breathing has gone back to normal, I stand up, shake out my hands, and wipe the stray tears off my face.
"you're being ridiculous, get yourself together." I tell myself sternly, looking in the mirror.
-
I walk down the stairs and head to the kitchen to get water to soothe my aching throat. I also grab a quick snack and head to the couch.
I can feel three pairs of eyes staring at me as I sit down on the couch and pretend to watch my phone.
Around five minutes later I felt a hand on my knee. Matt is kneeling in front of me, looking at me with worried eyes.
I immediately feel the tears coming back.
"Talk to me baby, what's making you upset?" he says, so soft you would think he whispering.
The tears are present now.
He gets off the floor and sits up next to me, pulling me to him and hugging me, holding the back of my head. I feel Chris and Nick come and sit with me too.
Once I've managed to get my breathing situated, I tell them what's going on. About how stressed I've been lately, and venting about my horrible day. My brothers listen and comfort me as I talk.
"Aw honey," Nick says, moving some hair out of my face. all of my brothers join in on a hug, and I wish I could stay like this forever.
"I'm sorry we got upset with you and you felt like you couldn't talk to us. But I want you to know that we are always here for you, whenever you need us, we'll be there." Matt says, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.
"Thaks you guys," I say wiping at the tears in my eyes.
"of course kiddo, we gotcha," Chris says.
Note: Sorry this was a little long! Let me know if yall liked this and want to see more! xoxo
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genshin-scenarios · 3 months
Text
A Flower Made of Playing Cards (Lyney x Reader)
Summary: A highschool idol AU commissioned by a very kind and patient anon!
It's mostly inspired by this headcanon post, where Lyney spends his civilian life starting to pine after you (a classmate) while keeping his idol life as 'Felis' a secret.
Content warnings: reader is implied to be at a height where Lyney can spin them under his arm?? That's pretty much it! Still gender neutral as usual
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Preparing for the Stage:
When Lyney was first asked what he wanted to base his idol concept on, he decided on the magic of luck — something unpredictable and frankly, he wouldn’t bet on most of the time — but if a black cat of all things could disguise itself as a charming magician who made dreams come true, Lyney thought that could be the truth threaded within his performances. 
His luck in gaining a family as supportive as his own. His luck in being chosen out of many candidates to debut, and…
Suppose a bit of rotten luck could play into his concept too. The kinds where props or staff go missing on the day of his nationwide tour, and miracles come into play to get him out of a tight spot.
But like a cat landing on its feet, Lyney — as Felis — would always come through in the end with a smile.
There is comfort in the mysterious and ethereal. The audience places their faith in idols to remain as an untouchable being, talented and charming till the end; while the idol repeats their tricks and illusions, learning them down to a science of well-orchestrated plans.
With the right people to support him behind the curtains, Lyney is sure there is little he can’t do.
But at the end of the day, Lyney is still just a teenager. And when faced with you, who’d unknowingly puppeteered his heartstrings to skip at the quirk of your lips, eyes crinkling with laughter from your seat a few rows away…
No one said that stars couldn’t fall in love. In fact, the ways they do so might be more beautifully devastating than ever. And Lyney is nothing if not someone who burns as brightly as he shines onstage.
-
On the other side:
You’ve always thought of Lyney as a regular classmate; one who gets along with others but otherwise keeps to himself. And sure, he’s also really cute, but Lyney’s always just been a nice presence to hang around with, especially after you learned he has a knack for magic tricks and was willing to teach you a few, skilled fingers sifting through a deck of cards.
You’re starting to think that Lyney’s not just a friend to you anymore.
Despite your best efforts to keep your feelings at bay, you’re more than aware that the nerves building up in your stomach whenever he’s near spells out a crush. As you get to know him, Lyney’s somehow went from cute to pretty, and you know you're not crazy when you notice his quiet charm shifting into something more extroverted. 
There are no seating plans during the breaks between classes — particularly if it’s this week, where your science teacher has packed off to accompany a sports team to a tournament — so you spend the hour finishing your substitute work with Lyney by your side. Except once you’re both done, he takes to scrolling through his phone and showing you the posts on his feed every now and then, and you swear his chair has been shifting closer and closer every minute.
With quiet words, Lyney leans towards you with a quirk to his lips. You wonder if he realizes how dangerous this is to your wellbeing. 
“This cafe’s menu is themed after wizards! See the cauldron?”
“Maybe you could get a part-time job there as an entertainer.” You suggest.
Lyney hums. “But I only like to perform magic for my friends. Which totals to three people, including you.”
“Are the other two Lynette and Freminet?”
“Bingo!”
“I don’t know if your sister would be happy to hear that.” She’d probably say he sounds like a loner.
“Nevermind if that makes her cringe — she’s stuck with me anyways. But I’d like to think at least Freminet would be happy.”
“He’s a sweet kid,” You try not to get distracted by Lyney’s hair tickling your shoulder. “Maybe you should take him there with you.”
“Just between us, I think Freminet would be more comfortable if you were there too.” Lyney shrugs, eyes meeting yours with a clarity that tells you this is a genuine offer. “He’s a bit more chatty around you, which is saying a lot.”
“Maybe that’s just because you’re too much for him?”
“Whatever do you mean? I’m nothing if not quiet, introverted, shy…”
“Shy.” You repeat in disbelief. You might’ve believed that once upon a time, but certainly not now. “A shy person wouldn’t offer to teach a stranger how to do card tricks.”
“Maybe I was just enchanted by you.”
“You avoided me unless we were talking about magic.” You remind him, to which Lyney bumps his shoulder against yours with a huff. “Maybe at that time you were a little shy, but I highly doubt you’d be like that towards your brother.”
“I’ve let you talk too much to my siblings…” He’s pouting. “Your impression of me is ruined now.”
“There’d be nothing to ruin you with if you haven’t done anything.” You tap your chin. “Is there another big secret that I should ask them about?”
You don’t notice, but Lyney’s eyes widen before he tears his gaze away from you, trying to stop the blush rising on his cheeks. If he wasn’t sitting so close, he’d probably slap his face to snap out of it.
Which secret? His crush — or idol career?
Just the thought of you knowing about his feelings is enough to make him combust, but the idea of you realizing he was the idol Felis? You’ve already told Lyney you weren’t that interested in idols since they were real people, compared to 2D characters who you could headcanon about to your hearts’ content. 
A part of him is relieved this means that if you fell for him, it’d be for himself. But another part feels like it’s a waste of the possibilities floating around his head; what if he surprised you by inviting you to a concert, then watched as the understanding enters your face when he steps onstage? What if he dedicates one of his performances to you, or asks you to sneak out with him after a show?
He’s even wearing just one side of his earphones so there’s an opening to offer you the other; it’s less about the music at this point, and instead the little gestures that tell him he has a chance.
He’d take any interaction if it has to do with you, but only within the safety of his own home would Lyney allow himself to daydream — his imagination causing a burn on his cheeks.
Lynette tells him he’s been reading too many mangas, but an idol can dream. Lyney just hadn’t expected you to become one of said dreams so fast.
-
Rehearsals:
Somehow, practicing how he’d confess to you is harder than any other rehearsal Lyney’s done. Perhaps it’s because he knows he looks like an idiot, speaking to the wall-length mirror after he gave up on Lynette and Freminet as helpers.
…The things he’d like to say to you remain private, anyways. There’s no way Lyney could bring himself to sound so sappy to anyone’s face but yours.
Seeing as it’s off-season, the only idol work Lyney has is related to magazine and advertisements shoots. It’s nothing much compared to when he first did an overseas tour, so he has the chance to steal some time for himself — going for a coffee run after he dons a mask and large sweater, then a cap which hides most of his hair.
Today Lyney had to model for a limited-edition pocky series. It’s strawberry and something-flavored, so the dress and makeup people had the bright idea to add a ribbon to his hair. It’s fanservice, it’s cute, and Lyney doesn’t think much of it seeing as he can’t see himself, until he spots you outside of the cafe where he’s waiting for his order. 
He’s always been light on his feet, but Lyney doesn’t think he’s ever ducked into a corner so fast, quieting himself in an attempt to become invisible.
You haven’t seen him without his glasses before, so maybe you wouldn’t…?
“Order for Felix!”
Of course it’s his turn now that you’re here. He considers taking off the ribbon before thinking better of it, hoping it isn't visibly poking out from underneath his cap.
“...Here!” Lyney tries not to cringe as he goes up to the counter. On most days he gives the cashier a random name — sometimes ‘Felix’ because it could be his idol alias read wrongly — but right now it almost gives him a heart attack when he hears his not-name, because it’s followed by you accidentally bumping into him and apologizing for almost spilling his coffee.
“I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”
“It’s alright, nothing’s spilled.” Lyney realizes too late that you might recognise his voice, and starts to speak in a muffled tenor. “No worries at all. Thank you for your concern.”
“...Felix, was it?” You look at him in confusion. “Is your throat okay?”
Before you can look at him any closer, Lyney’s turned away from you and started to speed-walk out of the cafe like his life depends on it. 
“Perfectly fine, enjoy your day!” He says a bit louder to not appear too rude. He’s quite sure his ears are red as he makes his retreat, and by the time he makes enough distance between himself and the cafe, Lyney realizes something.
He didn’t even get to hear your coffee order!
-
Back to your side:
Out of all strange incidents that could happen over the weekend, you didn’t expect an encounter with some ‘Felix’ guy to linger in your mind until now.
To be honest, it was less about the stranger and just the ribbon you spotted in his hair when he ran away. As you listen to Lyney ramble about a magic trick he’s figured out recently, you watch the way his ash-blond locks sway with every motion.
…That pink ribbon from the stranger's head might look cute on Lyney. With how the breeze is playing with his hair, you can imagine the ends of the ribbon floating, threatening to fall loose and fly off the school rooftop you’re loitering at.
Lunch finished and forgotten, Lyney stands up as he’s reminded of something. He spins on his heel to look at you, hands linked behind his back.
“You know, over the weekend I saw a dance go viral.”
“The one on tiktok?”
“Yep! Want to try it?”
Lyney’s not usually this energetic, but it’s not so out-of-character that you’d start to find it odd. Instead, you’d like to preserve the easy smile on his lips while you still can — it’s a rare sight to see him this excited, steps light and gaze playful.
“I’m not a good dancer, though…” You hesitate, before Lyney comes closer to pull you to your feet with both hands — and how could you say no when your fingers are still loosely linked between you?
Lyney’s cheery demeanor slips into something more calm. With a content hum, he takes a small step away from you and positions his feet. You mimic him as he explains each move.
“Okay, so now you have to do a turn from this side.”
“How should I when you’re still holding onto me?”
“Like this,” Lyney urges you to turn, and as naturally as momentum brings you, he lets go of one of your hands to twirl you under his arm. “See? It’s easy!”
“I’m quite sure the dance didn’t involve a partner.” You can’t keep your smile down, peering up at Lyney when you stand in front of him again. “Trying to set a new trend, are we?”
“Only if you’ll let me record us. I won’t post it anywhere though, since my manager might get mad at me.”
“Your manager at work?” You ask, confusion furrowing your brow. “Did you accidentally sign an extra clause or something? They shouldn’t be able to control how you act outside of your shift!” Lyney bursts into laughter, earning a light hit on the shoulder from you. “Hey! This is serious — what kind of part time job did you get yourself into?”
“I wouldn’t say it’s a regular side-gig.” Lyney calms down, expression dusted with a pink blush as he looks at you fondly. “I’m a bit of a public figure, though I don’t normally dress that way when I’m at school.”
“Well then, Mr Popular.” You play along. “What should I be calling you instead then, when I see you during your job?”
“...Most people call me Felis, if that rings any bells.” He glances away. “It’d be pretty embarrassing if you didn’t recognise my name. But I do have to sing, dance, and…”
“You’re an idol.” Your eyes widened, the words spoken so quietly, you had to repeat them just to make sure they didn’t slip away. “You’re that idol, aren’t you? The sparkly-looking guy on the billboards!”
“Not so loud!” Lyney hushes you, grabbing your shoulders in reflex before stopping. He clears his throat, taking a step away. You would’ve minded the distance more, if it were not for the sight of Lyney bashful in front of you. “...It’s a bit of a secret, just so I can still live peacefully as a civilian. I asked Lynette and Freminet to make sure no one could overhear us here. They might be as nervous as me about your reaction, I’m sure.”
“I find that a little hard to believe.” If anything, they might be more worried about Lyney recuperating. You speak tentatively, raising a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. “Now that I’m checking properly though, you do have the same look.”
It takes everything in Lyney to not squirm at your touch, and it’s even more terrifying that he wants to keep you there. “I would hope so, seeing as we’re the same person.”
“I bet Felis doesn’t spin his fans under his arm,” You quirk a cheeky smile. “Unless there’s something else you have to tell me?”
“Of course not, that’s only reserved for the best of…” Lyney trails off, the word ‘friend’ dying on his tongue. Not that you aren’t one, but— “I thought it’d be important to tell you about my job, before I ask you the real question I have on my mind.”
Giving him a nod, you tell him you’re all ears.
“...If you’re free next week, would you want to go somewhere together? As a date, I mean.” He lets the question sit in the air. “I understand if not, of course, whether it be because you just see me as a friend or find the whole idol thing too much—”
“I’ll make sure I’m free.” It takes a moment for your answer to register in Lyney’s head before his eyes light up. “Rather, you might have to make sure I don’t mess anything up for you. Like… should I call you by another name? Do I also need to wear a disguise?” If you had a net right now, it’d be very helpful in catching the butterflies in your stomach, to keep you focused on what you’re saying.
Just you would be perfect. “As long as we dress casually, it should be fine.” Lyney’s smile is contagious, now that he’s settling into the fact you said yes. “Sunday afternoon?”
“Sounds good!” You’re cut off by the bell. Remembering that you have PE and haven’t changed yet, you curse under your breath and quickly apologize to Lyney. “I’ll see you later— or text, if not!”
By the time your sentence ends, the door to the rooftop has shut, and Lyney is left standing with the tiniest of smiles, looking at the ground to try and control his expression before his siblings can bombard him with questions.
Lyney has never felt nervous while singing love songs before, but his manager recently commented that he feels younger than usual. Like an actual teenager in love.
It checks out, considering how fast his heart races when he starts to associate lyrics with you. Gone is the Felis who shines like an untouchable star, and here enters an idol who might just be human.
He enjoys it, as afraid as he is at the same time. To place one’s heart in the hands of another is terrifying, but he’d rather it be you than anyone else.
…But maybe you shouldn’t attend any of his concerts for now. He doesn’t know what he’d do if his brain short-circuits at the sight of you within the crowd. 
His own little secret within a sea of people entrusting him with their dreams — what a thrilling thing indeed.
-
Speeding up:
After that day, you noticed that Lyney has loosened up more around you — in a way that means he’s more likely to smile and cling to you during conversations. If he had cat ears, you can imagine they’d be standing proud every time he managed to fluster you, watching for every micro-reaction as if his career depended on pulling that expression from you as he might with a crowd of adoring fans.
Except you think that Lyney’s adapting to this too quickly. How is it that he was the nervous one that day at the rooftop, but has been going on the offense ever since the next morning?!
Lynette apologized to you in advance, telling you that once Lyney has his eyes on a goal, he’d be merciless in trying to charm your heart. You just didn’t think it’d affect you this much, though that might have more to say about how quickly you’re falling rather than Lyney’s approach. 
Every time Lyney calls your name and decides it’s time to hang around you like sunshine to a flower, you’re reminded of the clips of Felis you’ve watched after learning of his job. It was a mix of curiosity and puzzling out what Lyney’s other side might be like…
But god, does he have to constantly sport a smile like that? You find out through a promotional video that the coffee shop stranger actually was Lyney, and the ribbon does look very cute in his hair.
It’s a shame you’re only seeing the whole design through a screen. And even worse is the way he’s blowing a kiss to the camera in this one music video—
“What’re you watching?” Lyney’s hands rest against the back of your seat as he leans to look over your shoulder, prompting a panicked noise from your throat. You fumble with your phone, flipping it over so he can’t see. The little smile Lyney’s wearing tells you he has an inkling, but he does you the favor of not spelling it out. “Must’ve been a pretty good video if you didn’t hear me coming over.”
“You snuck up on me!” Sending him a glare, you power off your phone protectively. “...And if you must know, I was just listening to a song.”
“Can I hear?” Despite his playful tone, Lyney does give you the space to deny him as he adjusts his glasses. “But of course, I understand if you don’t like to share headphones.”
“I don’t mind, but there’s something else I’m wondering about.” You tilt your head up to peer at Lyney more closely, reaching a hand out to graze against his fingers. “Are these real?”
“My hands? I’d hope so.”
“Your glasses.” You retort quietly, trying not to roll your eyes. “Despite how I had to make a reality check about you too, I do know in fact that you’re real.”
Lyney laughs, raising a fist to his mouth. “You flatter me. But to answer your question — yes, these are actual glasses. Though the prescription isn’t too bad, so I only wear contacts if needed elsewhere.” With a serious pause, Lyney meets your gaze. “I wear these to school though, because I need to look at the board from behind and admire you clearly.”
You prop your chin against your palm. “I’m starting to think you’ve gotten too flirty recently.”
“Would you believe me if I said I’ve been holding back?” He hums, pulling a chair to sit beside you and mirror your pose. “I wanted to make sure you were comfortable with me romantically at first, but after that…”
“...You’re lucky I find you cute.” You sigh in jest. “At this rate, you might wear me down before we even go on a first date.”
“There’s still a lot about myself I’d like to share with you.” Lyney quietly admits. “I just hope we’ll be able to talk with more freedom. And if you decide you still like me after that — I suppose I’d feel like the luckiest guy in the world.”
The softness in his words somehow hits you harder than his previous flirtations. 
It’s me who should be feeling incredibly lucky.
Rather than one persona being more genuine than the other, you were starting to understand Lyney’s balance between the schoolmate you knew and the charming idol onscreen.
You see the truth of his smile underneath the blinding lights and exchanges in the hallways; the adorable way he fiddles with his pen during class versus his confident choreography.
It’s all Lyney. You just have to learn more about him and put his trust to good use.
He’s not the type to pull just anyone into his world, after all. Lyney has always held back just a little, so as to not let his secrets show from behind the curtains to even his familiar friends.
And now that he’s allowed you in, how could you possibly take his excitement for granted? You’d be lying if you said you weren’t looking forward to it too.
-
The date:
When Lyney greets you at the start of the date, the last thing you expected is for him to sneak a pink rose into your hair in place of a bouquet.
He claims it’s more discreet, especially considering the way he’s dressed with a mask and hat to hide his features, glasses also present. Despite these, Lyney is expressive enough that it doesn’t affect your conversations, and you allow him to take your hand as he leads you to the aquarium. It’s lunch time, so you’re going against the regular flow of people and enjoying the exhibits while it’s less populated.
Beneath the walkway tunnel where various rainbows of fish swim by, you gaze up in wonder at the shadow of a shark passing through.
Fontaine is nothing if not abundant in sea-related attractions, even if the main city is on land. You haven’t visited this aquarium since you were a kid, so it was nice to relive traipsing through a world washed in soothing, gentle blue.
“I think when we were younger, me and Lynette would talk about catching these fish if we were allowed into the tanks.” Lyney muses. “Perhaps that’s why our father says we’re like cats.”
“If we were in the wild though, catching fish for dinner would be a pretty good idea.” You gaze up. “But… if I was able to breathe underwater, I think I’d just spend all day escaping my troubles.”
“Would you have space for a partner in crime?”
“Only if they’d be able to help, by whisking us away from pursuers, for example.” You smile when Lyney starts swinging your hands lightly between you. “It’s stressful business when I have to worry about two of us getting caught, instead of just one.”
“I’d take the heat so you can get away first.” The conversation is childish, but Lyney’s sentiment makes a frown pull at your lips.
He’s confused when you stop walking and turn to face him. “No self-sacrifices! We either run together or get caught together. Nothing in-between.”
Something flickers in his eyes before he replies, tone warm. “Alright then. I’m at your mercy.”
“A bold claim, when you surprised me with this in my hair.” You point towards the rose Lyney’s managed to secure to your shirt with a pin, after his initial sneaky reveal. “...I’m just trying to make sure you’re not the only one giving between us, but it’s hard to keep up with all…” You gesture vaguely at him. “This.”
“You just signaled to all of me.” 
“That’s right!” You huff, crossing your arms across your chest. Lyney resists the urge to reach out and entwine your fingers again. “You’re too pretty, and nice, then I find out you can sing and dance too—”
“But I like surprising you.” Lyney chirps back, a laugh in his voice as he notices the way your face is darkening with a blush. He does you the service of hiding this from passersby — if any actually entered the walkway now, empty as it is — with his hands cupping both of your cheeks. “Maybe it’s because I’m a workaholic, but I want to make sure your eyes are only on me.” It’s the most dangerous thing he could say to you, in public or not. “So maybe I should apologize for dragging you into my selfish whims.”
“...But you don’t intend to stop.” You say, feeling lightheaded.
“Of course not.” Lyney hums, eyes bright with a smile. “There are a lot of stars to compete with in the night sky.”
And you said we're in this together, did you not? It's not the first time someone's told him he doesn't have to do things alone, but… it means a lot, coming from you.
“I hope you don’t say this to all your fans,” you sigh, relaxing into the softness of his palms. They’re smooth, and you realize Lyney’s always felt a little warm to the touch. 
“You’re a fan?”
The lilt in Lyney’s voice tells you you’ve made a mistake in your choice of words. He’s much, much too happy that a previously-disinterested person like you has now seen enough of his idol content to make such a slip.
“A fan of Lyney Hearth.” You try to salvage your pride, gaze trained onto the ground.
“Oh… I see.”
Lyney’s eyes widen before he catches himself, suddenly glad he’s wearing a mask for a different reason.
God… What is he going to do with you?
-
After attempting to feed penguins, seals, and exploring the open pool where you’re allowed to touch reef creatures, you and Lyney make a beeline out of the aquarium and towards the main shopping street, where many cafes are abound.
Since you were working against the usual rush schedule, you managed to grab a seat at a local favorite which also served meals; corner of the cafe and out of sight.
The meal passes by without issue, and next you browse some stores nearby while slowly heading towards the park. You were in a hobby shop when a group suddenly exclaimed the name Felis, causing Lyney to flinch and pull you with him behind a shelf.
“Oh my god, they do have idol stuff!”
“Yeah, but we already have this! It’s not new merch, y’know.”
Lyney lets out a relieved sigh, slumping against the shelf of comics. “Nevermind, false alarm.”
“Are you always this jumpy?” You whisper back, resisting the urge to look around him and see what said Felis merch was as the group moves to another end of the store. Lyney doesn’t seem to realize his arms are still wrapped around you, and that if you simply tilted your head a little, your faces could touch.
“Only because I’m more distracted today.” With you. “It’s nice to know that people are having fun though. My manager would classify that as a good review.”
“Yes, but also, um…” You clear your throat, causing Lyney to finally turn his head and freeze at your proximity. “Not that I mind, but you’re still holding on to me.”
“...Am I too close?” He sheepishly asks.
Yes.
“Not at all.” You swallow your nerves. “But if the staff find us like this, we’re definitely going to get kicked out.”
-
One shared crepe and a walk in the park later, you reach a quiet area hidden between the trees that’s lit by the evening light. Lyney explains that he and other trainees would often come here to hide out and practice choreography together, when the training rooms became too suffocating. In hindsight, he’s quite sure this spot had eventually been bought out by their company, seeing as they never ran into any press or strangers here.
“We’d prop our phones on water bottles and record ourselves, since there was no mirror.” Lyney recounts. “It was mostly to catch our mistakes, but some managers encourage us to pretend we’re doing vlogs too, to get used to presenting our personalities to the camera. Whatever does get uploaded is screened, though.”
“Do you still have those videos?” You’re sitting on a bench, legs crossed and facing one-another. “The ones that didn’t get posted, I mean.”
“...Maybe? They’re really embarrassing though.” He chuckles, and almost moves to take off his mask before he thinks better of it. “And I think I only did those to update my family on how I was doing. They don’t believe my words entirely when I say I’m fine.”
“You are too good of a talker, so I’d be wary too.” You laugh, glancing up at the sky. The clouds are parting for purple and orange. “I think once upon a time, I might’ve dreamed about doing something creative too. Like singing, fashion, or etcetera.”
“Not every interest has to be placed in the public eye.” Lyney takes off his hat, giving you a wink. “Guess what’s inside.”
“A dove? More roses?”
“Take a look.”
Once you lean closer, Lyney raises the cap to shield your faces from one side, then pulls his mask aside to block the other. It’s over in a moment, but he brushes his lips over your cheek, and the one image that clings to your mind is the blush adorning his face and the clear look in his violet eyes.
Eyes that are trained on you — holding your attention until something flickers in the corner of your vision, and Lyney reveals a rose made of playing cards.
You look down to check for the flower pinned on your shirt: no longer there, and presumably transformed by Lyney’s trick of the senses. He allows you to take the handcrafted rose with a satisfied smile.
“I was nervous it might’ve fallen apart after walking around all day.” He admits. “It’s not as romantic as a regular rose, but I hope it holds its charm all the same.”
It’s very him. Lovely and careful in the ways he opens up his petals to you, but hiding a puzzle of spells underneath.
“It’ll last a lot longer, too.” You smile, storing it carefully to take home later. “How long did you spend on preparing that?”
“What do you mean? I transformed it in a second.” He muses. “Besides, I don’t want to spoil the magic. It took a lot of practice, but normally just with an audience that looks at the hat, instead of…” Lyney trails off, clapping his hands together as if to signal the next topic. “I can teach you to fold a flower like that though, if you’d like.”
“In the library as usual?” You allow the shift in conversation, if only because unlike Lyney, you do not have the solace of hiding your expression behind a disguise. “I’m starting to wonder if your skillset will ever be exhausted.”
“Well, I’m quite adept at interviews, modeling, and learning things by sight.” For his idol work, he means. “But I will admit I’ve been curious about baking. Maybe one day we could try that together.”
“Collecting points in more categories, I see. Maybe you can teach me how to dance, too.”
Lyney surprises you by swinging his legs off the bench and standing. He gives you a little bow, a glint in his eyes as he extends a hand towards you. “One of Felis’ you mean? I could do that now.”
Right now?!
“Don’t you trust me to?” Lyney pouts. “I’m a good teacher, I promise.”
“M… Maybe next time?” You’re not too sure, suddenly feeling intimidated by the idea of proper choreography. By instinct, you still take Lyney’s hand and get to your feet. “I need to mentally prepare— Whoa!”
Before you can finish, Lyney’s spun you around and lowered you into a dip, hands supporting you at your back and waist. He keeps it shallow and helps you back up — lips quirked as you’re suddenly pulled closer to him with the momentum, bodies and faces inches apart.
His pupils are dilated.
Your indignation quickly forms into surprise. There’s a quiet tension surrounding the air — a question asked, and your hand reaches up to take off Lyney’s mask in reply as he steals your breath away straight from your lips. 
You’ve been wondering when you’d finally get the chance to stop his honeyed words with a kiss.
After you get home, you find a playing card that Lyney’s slipped into your pocket. On it is his familiar scrawl, and a few simple words:
‘Thank you for today.  Love — your number 1 fan.’
You get a feeling that this wouldn’t be the last time you exchange messages upon a suit of hearts. Maybe you’ll start investing in a deck of your own, just for him.
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oletus-writer · 3 months
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Can you make a 'Jealous of their mini version' with Jack, h!Melly and fools gold? (if they had one) will be so glad to read them :)
Of course!! I’ve been busy being consumed by Baldur’s Gate III so this is late by a long shot.
Jack, Hunter Melly, Hunter Norton being jealous of their mini pet version
Warnings: slight jealousy
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Jack
He’s amused, to say the least. You can’t get enough of him, so much so that you’ve decided to purchase a little version of him to follow you around when he’s not there. Unlike others, he won’t be too jealous, and is willing to pamper it alongside you, treating it like a child.
‘Oh my sweet robin, it looks like you’ve been missing me. Well, don’t you worry; there’s enough of me to go around. This little darling can’t be much of a replacement, hm?’
Of course, if he finds you spending more time with little Jack than with him, jealousy settles in. He’ll court you, all gentlemanly and saccharine. Expect flowers, poems, being treated better in matches, and maybe even a painting. Holding the door open for you, kissing your hand… you get the picture.
‘You did so well in that match… Sure, I wasn’t there, but I’m certain you did well, dove. Would you like to enjoy this wine with me as celebration? If not, may I interest you in some of my cooking?’ (You’ll have to supervise his cooking, though)
There isn’t much pettiness, as he understands why you’d buy a mini Jack, and that it’s more available to you than him, being a hunter and all. He does have a photo of you that he carries with him at all times, after all, but he might get jealous over the fact you actively spend time with mini Jack than him. Sure, it’s a pet you need to take care of, but he’d prefer it if you invite him over a bit more frequently.
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Hunter Melly
She’s a bit more possessive of you than her survivor counterpart, and is a bit ruthless. She doesn’t mind locking away little Melly so she could have the entire day alone with you, nor does she mind resorting to threatening the little pet. However, she’s not a total savage, and is willing to raise it like a child.
‘Honey, as much as I enjoy your company evermore when we’re alone, perhaps this little pet you have isn’t so bad. We should give it a proper name, not just Little Melly.’
Bitter jealousy still settles in her ribcage like acid reflux, though, and she’ll find any excuse to get you to have greenhouse dates, as the mini pet would get lost, it’s little legs and short perspective unable to find its parents in the maze. She’ll pick flowers and tell you their meanings all the while ignoring that nagging sense of guilt.
However, she finds that little Melly has its uses, such as observing small details on her insects, and finding new species within the greenhouse. She’ll treat the pet a bit better, and there are some times when you find her giving all her attention to it.
‘This little sweetheart has done wonders to my research. It was a good choice to purchase it. You have my gratitude.’
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Hunter Norton
He understands that you’re not all his, and that he should be nice and respectful of his lover, but he just has the instinct to hold things dear to him so tightly that his ribcage wraps around them. There’s an ill feeling in his throat and he can’t swallow and his rock fingers twist knobs into the table.
‘What’s going on, darling? Oh… that little thing. I see. Suppose I should leave you to it, then, since it’s obviously better company that me.’
Unlike the other two, he’s never going to accept the mini him into his life. He hates children, and having another mouth to feed is quite the annoyance.
‘When are you gonna throw that thing aside? It’s just a toy, right? Come to your rightful place in my arms.’
He simply doesn’t understand why you’d rather the substitute than the real thing. After all, as much as he doesn’t want to admit, you could always seek out survivor Norton.
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