#(my students will be the only kids I have and that’s for damn certain.)

[outer-edges]

r/regretfulparents is my hellscape. i know most of them are just going through hard times and venting and probably don't actually regret it but like. i genuinely think motherhood would be my most awful prison. the whole sub is like the scariest horror game the internet has to offer for me.

[elizabebabe]

𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐲𝐨𝐠𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ꕤ 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡: yoga teacher y/n’s student has her thinking unprofessional thoughts.

minors dni!

| “you got so wet so quickly…been a while since someone touched you baby?”

| “damn — spread open for me, on your mat?”

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: use of y/n, pet name, smut with little plot, fingering, f!masturbation, fantasies, horny!y/n, lowk lonely!y/n.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.1k!

𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬: kicking off the remodel with a one-shot !! zabe loves yoga, zabe loves chris, mix em together?

“today we’ll be doing a few more advanced stretches, stretching out your backs, calves and any other tight muscles.” your voice echoed through the studio, your students crisscrossed on their mats awaiting instruction.

you had early morning classes every day of the week but wednesday was particularly your favorite since you got to see a certain student, his name was chris and yes he was handsome but he also cared about your profession or…maybe less about your profession and more about yoga itself.

he wanted you to help him fix his bad back, asking questions, asking for advice, you needed to be professional which is why all your attempts of asking for his number ended in failure.

you turned on your speakers, the usual calm, lyricless music waving through the room, also not forgetting to turn off the lights to give a more relaxed feel you always wanted to share with your students.

“we’re gonna start how we always start, savasana.” you scrambled around the room, stepping between bodies laying atop their personal mats ensuring everyone knew what they were doing.

you took 3-4 minutes to correct anyone making mistakes and marking who could use a bit of help, some days of the week you had kids joining in with their guardian, on wednesdays you have a pretty mixed group of ages so it can be hard to “grade”.

“alright, that’s savasana.” 

“come up to ‘mountain’ pose.” you continue, stepping on your mat to follow along to your own instructions, trying to ignore your eyes telling you to gaze at the brunette man in the front row.

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

after an hour of tough stretches, your class huffed and puffed on their way out but one man stayed behind.

“hey.” he nudged at your turned back.

“oh! hi.” the interaction taking you by surprise as you never really interacted, “what can i do for you.” you smiled awkwardly.

“well, with the ‘cobra’ pose.” he hiked his yoga mats strap over his shoulder, “i’m struggling with getting my back that low, it kinda hurts.” he says with a cute, loose smile maybe embarrassed by what he’s saying.

“oh no! if it hurts, find a way to make it more comfortable for you.” you gestured with your hands.

“it shouldn’t hurt, maybe uncomfortable but it shouldn’t hurt—“ the rambling of yours continued.

he snickered which interrupted your words, “thanks.” he gently patted your shoulder before turning towards and out the glass door.

the embarrassment he felt now flipped on you as you wanted to crawl into a hole from the exchange.

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

your drive home was silent as you sat overthinking about what played on your mind, ‘he just wanted advice, he doesn’t like you.’

‘why did he touch you then?’

‘it was a pat on the damn shoulder, did you see how fast he got out of there?’

you felt crazy as voices in your head fought over something so small, your key turned into the knob of your apartment door, remembering the exam you promised yourself to study for.

you were in community college, typically only having one class a day left lots of time to work on your yoga studio your parents helped pay for.

you threw your tote and mat to the ground, ignoring the thought to change into some of your loose pajamas and sitting at your small dining table for one.

the first few minutes of studying were fine, even taking off your fitted white jacket as you got in the zone. you were able to focus and concentrate on the work ahead of you but that didn’t stop the little voice in your head nagging about him.

you knew his name was chris or at least that’s what he filled out on the forms you had tucked in a random cabinet—

‘this is crazy.’ you huffed before averting your attention back to your notebook.

…

you scrolled through your phone immediately contradicting yourself by looking for different chris’s throughout social media — ‘doesn't he follow the studio's instagram?’

you scrolled through the following list before finding him, his handsome face adorning his profile picture and only a few photos on his feed, but you loved every second of scrolling through them..

adjusting yourself in your chair every so often at the sight of his beautifully crafted face, you couldn't help your fingers sliding past the waistband of your tight leggings that matched that thrown fitted jacket and quickly underneath your light blue panties that you could only hope chris would see one day.

your fingers quickly found your wet folds slipping through the slick and imagining it was the man from your front row, “you got so wet so quickly…been a while since someone touched you baby?” his voice echoed through your head.

the guilt you felt from thinking about him almost warranted you to stop but when your finger accidentally grazed over your clit you couldn’t stop yourself.

the actions continued, one of your fingers dipping into your soppy hole, another leaving airy touches on your clit.

it wasn’t enough, even with his face and his veiny hands you remember pressing firmly into the mat beneath him you couldn’t hit the right spots you knew those long fingers of his could.

but it didn’t stop you from trying, you pushed deeper into yourself once you slid down the wooden chair you uncomfortably sat in the position of your hips reminding you of when you instructed him through a certain pose even showing him a private demonstration, your fingers curling and grazing that spongy spot you aimed for, you remember that day, silently begging him to make a move, touch you in a any way but he never did.

trying to focus on your fantasy as you pumped into yourself made you wetter, “damn — spread open for me, on your mat?” you imagined him laying you down, taking his time while he undressed you, your drippy hole dripping onto the mat beneath you both.

“you’re gonna have to clean this later.” he says, scissoring his fingers inside you, eliciting a moan from your throat.

“gonna think about me when you do it?” 

“how wet i get you?” he continued.

“chris..” you grunted as your body buzzed and legs shook, you were close and all because you “stumbled” upon his instagram, your fingers picked up speed, vigorous motion ensued on your sensitive bud.

the rope snapping in your stomach halting your movements, your mouth agape and sweat dotting your skin.

a certain ’ding’ brought your attention back to your phone.

an instagram dm, a unexpected “can we talk?” from the man you finished all over your fingers for.

second smut baby !! and it’s about my man..

i hate this :( that’s why it took me so long to post bc i was debating whether it was too lackluster but i wanted to post something while i work on longer things, again thank you for the support on ‘southern belle’ and i love you. 🕰️

🏷️ @fratbrochrisgf @3lizaluvs @lily-strnlo @i-love-ptv @venusjaynie @jetaimevous @lizzysmith110 @firexovni @bagsbyclair0

i hope you’re satisfied with your purchase!

© elizabebabe

[mindfulstudyquest]

❥﹒♡﹒☕﹒ 𝗯𝗲 𝘀𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗿 ( 𝗮𝗰𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗺𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗼𝗻𝗹𝘆 !! )

𝟭. improve your writing skills ( ✒️ )

i feel that not everyone has the perception of how important it is to know how to write. you don't have to be a poet, nor the new emily brontë, but fluid, conscious, rich writing makes the difference. really. you could write a page without saying anything at all, but if that damn page is written good and smoothly, then you can be sure that you will get extra points. take the time to improve your writing skills, the best advice i have for doing so is reading. read as much as you can. read novels (non-fiction in this case doesn't help because the content is preferred rather than the form), read contemporary authors – you don't necessarily have to read sophocles' tragedies, but read quality stuff. expand your vocabulary, your knowledge of syntax, learn to use punctuation! and then write, tell stories, write love letters, write reviews of films, books, cultural festivals, open a blog on tumblr and write to practice, reread what you write ad nauseam, until it is perfect, until the form of your essay is pulitzer prize worthy.

bonus some of my favourite authors (tell me in the comments about yours!): ian mcewan, banana yoshimoto, haruki murakami, george orwell, josé saramago, albert camus, khaled hosseini, hanya yanagihara

𝟮. develop critical thinking ( 💭 )

if you have always studied passively by absorbing information and vomiting it onto a test sheet then you have wasted your time. taking on information is not enough, you need to know how to rework it and develop your own idea about it. especially in the arts and literature one may disagree with certain information provided by a textbook. developing critical thinking is not easy, especially due to the school system that teaches us to standardize thinking. always consult all available sources on a given topic, compare them, analyze contradictions. it might be difficult and tiring – our brain spends more energy processing two conflicting pieces of information than processing two pieces of information that agree – but it will be worth it. by practicing critical thinking and improving your argumentation skills, you will not only be able to improve in your studies, becoming able to present complex topics and make interdisciplinary connections, but also in daily life, you will become much less influenced and manipulated by external information.

𝟯. find yourself an interest ( 🌷 )

it could be anything, but find an interest that excites you and you enjoy and do research about it. watch videos, documentaries, read articles. it doesn't have to be school-related, it must be an external topic that you are passionate about and that allows you to rediscover the joy of studying and learning every time school seems to suffocate it. sometimes i'm not in the mood to study for exams, so i dedicate myself to my personal research and finally find my spark, my seek for knowledge. for example, my interest is true crime, it has always fascinated me since i was little, but yours could be wild animals, makeup, comics, ships, planes, ocean flora, literally anything. there is no constraint.

𝟰. analyze your mistakes and recognize your wrongs ( 🫒 )

there is no shame in making mistakes. everyone makes mistakes, we are human, but the real sin is getting bogged down in mistakes, refusing to acknowledge them, and continuing to make them again and again. we should be continually growing, continually discovering ourselves, both intellectually and emotionally. how many of you were the "gifted kid" when you were little and then grew up into burned out high school / uni students desperately seeking academic validation? there comes a time when talent isn't enough, you have to put in the effort, and this doesn't make you less intelligent or gifted, in fact, quite the opposite. dedicating time and attention to your personal and intellectual growth also means having to ruminate on your mistakes. it's scary, but it's the most effective way if you really want to improve. take a notebook and at the end of the day reflect on the highlights and the wrongs, what you could have done better, where you would like to push forward tomorrow, what you achieved today. did you make a mistake? first ask yourself why and then look for a way to solve the problem, make every bad moment a lesson, a brick on which to build the version of you you wanto to become tomorrow.

𝟱. don't be afraid of doing researches ( 🧃 )

the amount of fake news and misinformation online is appalling. opening any app like tiktok or instagram we are inundated with information that is often (not always, but not so rarely) inaccurate. don't be afraid to conduct your own research, if you have time to mindlessly scroll through tiktok you will also have five minutes to read an article regarding that information provided. don't know the meaning of a word? look it up before using it. not sure about a piece of information? check it before using it in your argumentation. in the age of immediate access to data we have no excuse to be superficial.

𝟲. master communication ( ♟️ )

mastering communication is essential in both personal and professional realms. it's the cornerstone of building meaningful relationships, whether it's conveying ideas effectively in academia or fostering connections in the workplace. developing strong communication skills not only enhances your ability to articulate thoughts but also empowers you to listen actively, empathize with others, and resolve conflicts constructively. ultimately, honing these skills cultivates confidence, credibility, and success in all aspects of life.

𝟳. push yourself out of your comfort zone ( 🧸 )

build your confidence. confidence is uncomfortable. don't be afraid of it. you are young, this is the right time to experiment, take risks, discover who you really are. this is the best time for you to do those things that you would otherwise never do, you don't want to regret later in life that you didn't accept that scholarship, that trip abroad, that job opportunity, because you didn't feel comfortable enough. do things that take you out of your comfort zone until everything becomes your comfort zone. go on solo dates, be a social butterfly, tell the girl at the bookstore you love her t-shirt, go to the theater alone, eat at a restaurant alone, take that trip. if it goes badly, you'll only have one funny story to tell.

𝟴. stay informed about the news (but not too much!) ( 🌍 )

this might be controversial, but: stay informed about the news, just don't overdo it. personally, i am an easily influenced person and i realized that being constantly exposed to the bad things happening in the world had drained me and made me terribly depressed. don't get me wrong, you need to be informed about what's happening in the world and in your country, just being constantly surrounded by horrible news repeated ad nauseam on TV programs is of no use. be aware.

[janeyseymour]

I Can Take Care Of Myself

Summary: Melissa falls and clearly injures herself. She insists she's fine.

WC: ~3.7k

Melissa falls at work today, because of course she does. It isn’t the best morning to begin with- and that only puts the cherry on top to prove to the two of you that today is going to be an absolute living hell.

It all starts when you wake up with half a voice and feeling like a truck hit you. Still though, you persist and insist that you’re well enough to go to school- calling out isn’t an option at this point. The substitute situation is, in the fine words of Mr. Johnson, absolute trash. You’re not about to subject your grade level partners to another ten kids in their class for the day when you can still teach- just maybe not to the degree that your students have become accustomed to.

“Hun, I’m fine,” you croak out as you force yourself to peel your eyes open.

Melissa frowns. “It’s clear you aren’t. You look like you crawled out of the seventh layer of hell.”

“Wow,” you scoff. “I love you too.”

Green eyes are rolled. “You know I’m saying that with all of the love in my heart, mi amore… I just don’t want you to strain yourself more than you have to. I can handle your sub plans and take on some of your kids.”

“I’m fine,” you mumble as your eyes slip closed again. “Just give me five more minutes, and then I’ll get up.”

“Y/N,” your girlfriend says sternly.

“I’m fine,” you grumble. “Just gonna need some extra coffee today.”

Somehow, miraculously, you get out of the house on time- having not put on makeup today. You’re able to stop for coffee before you head to work, and then you’re walking in with the usual crew. They can all clearly see that you aren’t feeling well, but at your glare, they silence themselves. Chatter continues on like it normally does with your friends. And then Melissa trips and she hits the ground- hard.

You gasp and reach out a hand to help her up, worried that she’s more injured than she’s playing off. “Hun?��

“I’m fine!” the redhead jumps right up. “Coffee didn’t even spill.”

You look to your friends with a stunned look- how could she be okay? But then she’s limping her way up the steps to the school, and you sigh. She isn’t fine- nowhere near fine.

“Has she always limped like that?” Janine asks the group.

“No. No she has not,” you grumble under your breath as you head in behind your girlfriend.

She’s still limping down the hall with all of her things when you catch up to her.

“Hun,” you just barely manage to get out before you break into a bit of a coughing fit. Still, you grab her bags and loop an arm around her waist to help steady her.

The redhead shrugs you off and continues to hobble her way down the halls towards her classroom. “I’m fine. It’s you who isn’t.”

“Babe,” you shake your head. “You took a tumble, and it’s clear you’re hurting.”

“Ain’t the first time,” Melissa replies. “Won’t be the last.”

“At least let me look at your ankle when we get inside?” you ask as you stop in front of her door.

Green eyes glance to you for a second, and she can tell that you’re truly concerned about her. “Y/N.”

“Please,” you sigh. “I’m worried with the way you’re limping.”

The breath that she lets out tells you that she’s annoyed, but she relents. “If I say yes, will you get off my back?”

You raise brow at the attitude, but you cut your losses and nod. As soon as she’s in her classroom and settled to a certain degree, she’ll falling into her chair with a groan. You feel bad, but you have to unlace her boot and pull it off of her foot. It hurts your heart to hear the way that she hisses in pain at the action.

“I’m sorry,” you croak out. You peel her sock off, and you can immediately see that her ankle is swollen at least double the size what it’s supposed to be. “Hun, you need to go to the doctor.”

“There ain’t no damned way that’s happening.”

You look to your girlfriend with a deep sigh. “Lissa.”

“I’m not going,” the redhead stands her ground.

“It’s already swollen,” you tell her. You prod around the area and when she nearly shouts in pain, you just gesture to it pointedly.

“It’ll heal up in no time.”

“At least let me get you ice,” you request softly. 

“I can get it,” Melissa tells you as she goes to pull her sock back on. She halts her motion though when she feels the pain flare up again.

“Melissa, now is not the time to be stubborn,” you grumble out as you turn on your heel to get ice from the staff room. By the time that you fill a couple of bags with ice, brew another two cups of coffee, and return down to the redhead’s classroom, she’s grunting and groaning trying to get her shoe on.

“Melissa Schemmenti, stop being so damn stubborn, and just accept my help,” you rasp out as you pull her shoe off again, ignoring the way she winces. “Shouldn’t have tried to put it back on when I told you I would get it for you myself.”

“An’ I told you I’d be fine. I should be the one takin’ care of you,” Melissa spits out. “This is fuckin’ ridiculous.” And then she gasps at the cool sensation on her foot.

“Twenty minutes,” you tell her sternly. “I don’t want to see you up and moving today. You can teach from your chair.”

“But-”

“Melissa,” you grit through your teeth. “I know you don’t want help or to admit that it hurts, but I’m seriously concerned. So, if you aren’t going to do this for yourself, will you at least do it for me?”

The pleading look in your eyes, along with the strained voice, finally get her to quit fighting you. “Fine. But when we get home, I’m taking care of you.”

You roll your eyes but lean in to kiss her temple. You make your way out, having to prepare a few things for your own classroom. As you’re leaving, you mumble under your breath, “That’s if we aren’t at the hospital for your damned ankle.”

Come lunch time, you line your kids up and march them down the hall to your girlfriend’s room. She’s still sitting in her chair, one shoe off, but she looks pissed beyond hell.

“I’ll take your kids down, grab our lunches, and then I’ll meet you back here?”

“I can come down to the staff-” she pauses briefly at your glare. “I’m coming down. But if you wouldn’t mind taking my class down to the cafeteria?”

“Fine.” You’ll take what you can get.

By the time that you’ve dropped all of the kids off in the lunch room and ensured that they have a plan for lunch, Melissa has hopped about halfway down the hallway.

“You’re ridiculous,” you sigh as you catch up with your girlfriend easily.

Green eyes are rolled, and she huffs and groans as she continues down towards the staffroom. You simply loop your arm around her waist again.

“Can you put any pressure on it?” you ask.

“Enough.” She steps on it, but you see the massive amount of pain she is in when she does.

You quirk your lips to one side, but you don’t say anything. Instead, you help guide her to a chair before pulling your lunches out of the fridge and setting it down in front of her. You pluck her mug from her hand and refill it with another helping of coffee, spoon the sugar out for her, and get the creamer for her.

“Thanks,” she kisses your cheek gently.

You manage to get her to ice her injury again without much of a fight.

The rest of the day passes by just fine, and come the end of the day, you’re both standing outside dismissing your kids. You can see the way that she’s favoring her one side though and how she’s smiling through the pain. Honestly, you’re surprised she even managed to get her shoe back on, much less make her way outside.

But then the bell rings to signify that teachers can leave, and you watch her grunt and groan her way to the car.

“Let me drive,” you try to convince her.

She waves you off. “I can drive.”

The entire drive home, you can see in her face just how much she’s trying to suppress her pain. You don’t say anything though- hopefully she learned her lesson after today’s drive back home.

She leans over the middle console once she’s put the car in park and kisses you softly.

“Don’t kiss me,” you rasp out. “I don’t want you to get sick.”

“I have the immune system of a bull,” your girlfriend tells you, and then she plants another one you. “I just… thank you for trying to take care of me today. But I promise you, I’m fine. I should be the one taking care of you right now.”

She presses her forehead against yours, only to frown as she pulls away. “You’re burning up.”

“I’ll be okay,” you mutter. “Just goin’ to be an early night tonight.”

It is an early night for you. Practically right after dinner, you practically drag your exhausted body up the steps and crawl into bed.

You expect the redhead to make her way up not shortly after you, but she doesn’t. You resort to texting her.

Are you coming to bed?

I will, is the response you get. Just catching up on the Bachelor, and then I’ll be up. Get some sleep though, hun.

Okay, you type back. Goodnight. I love you.

I love you too.

Melissa doesn’t make her way up the steps that night. She can hardly manage to get comfortable on the couch with her ankle throbbing the way it is, and she doesn’t think she could manage the way that your legs always tangle together in sleep right now.

You hardly notice that she isn’t laying there next to you, sound asleep after taking some NyQuil to help your own symptoms.

But come the next morning, you realize that you aren’t waking up in her arms like you usually would.

“Mel?” you attempt to get out. You curse silently when all that comes out of your mouth is air.

You hear her groan from downstairs, and then you hear that familiar sound of a body being peeled off of the plastic covered couch. With a soft sigh, you begin to prepare yourself for the next day of school. You hear the grunts coming from your girlfriend downstairs as she attempts to get herself up the steps to get ready for work herself.

“Hey gorgeous,” you hear her low morning voice as you feel her warm arms wrap their way around your midsection. She presses a kiss to your cheek. “How are you feeling?”

You shrug before pointing to her with raised eyebrows.

“No voice still?” the redhead asks, and you shake your head before gesturing to her again. “Hurts a little, but it ain’t nothin’ I can’t handle.”

You give her a look of disbelief, but she just kisses you again and smiles as she reaches for her own toothbrush.

Of course, she insists on driving again. Walking into the school takes longer than usual for your girlfriend, her limp more apparent than it was yesterday. She really can’t put any pressure on her ankle without gasping in pain. 

She plops herself into a seat before attempting to con any of the other people in your friend group to make the two of you coffee.

Janine, of course it’s Janine, tells the redhead that it’s clear that she’s worse than she was yesterday and that her ankle needs medical attention.

Your girlfriend, in true Schemmenti fashion, argues that. And then Gregory is telling her that what she rhetorically asked is exactly what a doctor would do for.

“Hun,” you rasp out. “You couldn’t even make it up to bed last night.”

“I fell asleep watching Housewives, Y/N,” Melissa sighs as she runs the pad of her thumb over your knuckles. “Jeez.”

That day after school, you’re laying on the couch with your eyes half closed. God, whatever you have is really throwing you for a loop. But you can’t let yourself fall asleep because you’ve vowed to yourself that if your injured girlfriend needs help, you will be the one to help her.

She only continues to shrug off your offers to help, claiming that she can do it all herself. That is, until you practically force her to sit down on the couch next to you with a pack of ice. You lift her leg and set it up on the coffee table with a pillow propped under it. And then you gently lay the ice down. She gasps at the sensation, and then her eyes darken.

“Y/N,” she kicks the ice away. “I said I’m fine. I said I’m the one taking care of you tonight. Can you just- quit it?”

“I won’t ‘just quit it’, Melissa. It’s clear that you’re hurt, and I really should be taking you to the hospital for your ankle.”

“Jesus Christ,” your girlfriend mumbles. “Leave me alone about it. Hun, I’m fine. I promise you- it’s just going to be sore for the next couple of days, and then I’ll be right as rain. Just, trust me?”

“Fine,” you scoff. “If you want me to leave you alone, then I will.”

You make your way up the steps and lay in bed, saddened by your girlfriend’s words. You’re drifting in and out of sleep when she comes in and kisses your head softly. “I love you.”

You sigh softly. “If it isn’t better by tomorrow, we’re going to the doctor.”

“Sure,” Melissa huffs. Then she softens. “Why don’t you take a nap, mi amore? I know you’re tired.”

You finally give in and give your body what it wants- rest, full rest. You don’t wake up until the next morning when your alarm is going off on your phone.

While you’re asleep though, Melissa thinks. She really doesn’t want to go to the doctor, but her ankle isn’t getting any better. If anything, it’s getting worse. So, she has to take drastic measures. She manages to hop her way to the medicine cabinet and begins to rifle through it. Painkillers- nice. Are they expired? Yes. Does she care? No. She pockets them before laying back down on the couch with you and pulling you into her arms, kissing your head softly.

The next morning, it seems as though Melissa has done a 180. She’s walking around just fine, she’s in a much better mood, and there hasn’t been a complaint out of her mouth about the pain that she was in just yesterday.

“See?” Your girlfriend’s eyes sparkle as she cooks you breakfast. “I told you: I’m right as rain now, aren’t I babe?”

You just roll your eyes and kiss her cheek. “Okay, hun.” Oh thank God- you’re voice is at least somewhat back to normal.

She dances into the school and into the staffroom while you head off towards the bathroom, and your friend group is just as surprised as you were this morning to see how much better the redhead is feeling.

You’re walking into the staffroom just as your girlfriend admits that she found some painkillers at the house, and you practically jump to grab the bottle out of her hands.

“Those are mine.” You then continue to read the label.

“Melissa!” Barbara cuts in and grabs the bottle. She looks at the expiration date. “These are way passed expired!”

The redhead just waves a hand in dismissal, claiming that they still do the trick if you just double up on them. Before she can get another word out about how she’s feeling good, you have to leave. You storm out of the room, not caring that the door slams behind you. Your group of friends can hear your shoes hitting the linoleum tile with more force than usual. 

“What the hell was that?” Barbara asks quietly.

Even in her high stupor, Melissa knows- you’re mad that she would stoop to such a level. “She’s pissed… I- I need to go see the nurse.”

You’re enraged that your girlfriend would go as low to taking expired painkillers- ones that weren’t even hers to begin with. And then you’re more upset with yourself for not having thrown them out. After what feels like forever, you know that you have to get ahold of your emotions. You��re students will be walking in soon, and you can’t be this upset when they come in.

You take a deep breath, shake your hands out, and put that practiced smile on your face like you’ve had to do so many times before. The bell to allow the children to start making their way down to the classrooms chimes, and your brow furrows slightly. You hadn’t heard your girlfriend make her way down the hallway, which is odd; you can always hear her heeled boots.

Quietly, you make your way out of your classroom and into the hallway, standing where you can see the redhead’s room nicely. She’s sitting at her desk, body turned to face the doorway… and she isn’t wearing her boots? She doesn’t even have a shoe on her injured foot. It’s actually elevated with ice resting on it.

“What the fuck?” you mutter to yourself. 

Your girlfriend sees that you’re looking at her curiously, and she just shrugs apologetically to you. You roll your eyes and head back into your own classroom.

Come lunch time, Melissa is still sitting in her chair, teaching from her desk. Her kids are lining up to head out, but she doesn’t so much as move. Her class ends up tagging onto the end of your line as they’ve done for the past few days. You drop them all at the cafeteria before making your way into the staff room.

“Where’s Melissa?” you roll your eyes as you grab your lunch from the refrigerator.

“Her classroom,” Barbara tells you. “I took her down her lunch and an ice pack.”

You nod before taking your salad out of the room with you and making your way back down the hall towards your girlfriend.

When you can see her, she’s sitting at her desk with her foot propped up and the aforementioned ice pack resting over the bruise.

“Hey,” Melissa waves you in quietly.

You just look to her as you stand in her doorway. “I’m beyond pissed with you, you know,” you say flatly.

“I know,” the redhead sighs. She gestures for you to come in. You do, taking a student chair and pulling it up to her desk.

Her hand very quickly finds its way into your own, squeezing it gently. “Mi amore.”

“I can’t believe you.”

“I know, and I’m sorry.”

You pull your hand from hers. “I mean, seriously, Melissa. Denying my help, telling me that you were just fine when you clearly weren’t, and then stooping so low as to stealing my painkillers that were expired? You have to be kidding me!”

“I-” Your girlfriend cups your cheek gently. “Honey, I’m sorry.”

“You should be,” you huff.

“I fucked up by not letting you help me, I know I did,” the redhead admits quietly. “I know it doesn’t excuse it, but I just… I’ve never had anyone so willing to look after me when I’m not at a hundred… Joe always left me to my own devices, and other flings didn’t care enough to help.”

“I’m not Joe,” you hiss. “And I’m certainly not just some stupid little fling of yours.”

Soft lips meet your own. “I know. I know you aren’t. You’re you, and you care so deeply for me and are so willing to take care of me. But you have to understand that I’m not used to that. I’ve always had to fend for myself.”

“You don’t have to do that anymore,” you sigh.

“I know,” Melissa mumbles. “But I- I-” She shakes her head softly as she tries to figure out how she wants to word this. “I didn’t want to be dependent on you, especially while you were sick. So I made a stupid decision- one that I entirely regret, because it clearly hurt you and made you feel like I didn’t need you, when I do.”

You nod along.

“And after you stormed out of the break room today, I really knew I fucked up. So… I went down to the nurse, asked Barbara to bring me my lunch and an icepack, and I scheduled an appointment to check out my foot once school is over.”

“You did?” you ask quietly.

Your girlfriend nods. “I did. And… I was kinda hoping my beautiful girlfriend would take me there after work today?”

You have to fight the urge to roll your eyes and tell her that you would’ve done that days ago. Instead you just give her a tight lipped smile and nod. “You know I will. But I’m driving.”

The next morning, you carry your things on one shoulder and Melissa’s things on the other. You ensure that she can easily make her way into the school with her crutches now.

“So you went to the doctor?” Janine asks when she sees the two of you making your way down to the classroom.

“Grade two ankle sprain, wrist bruise, knee abrasion,” your girlfriend relays. “So… you know, no big deal, like I said.”

You give her a look in disbelief.

“Okay, okay,” the redhead rolls her eyes. “So, maybe a bigger deal than I thought it was. But I’ll be alright, because I know I have my wonderful girlfriend to help take care of me while I get back to one hundred percent.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes. “Alright, Schemmenti. Let’s go. You gotta ice your ankle again before the kids get here.”

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @sweetcheeksschemmenti @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @a-queen-and-her-throne @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo @m1lflov3rrr @ricejucie @temilyrights @emilynissangtr @squinnchy @dopenightmaretyphoon @emeraldoceansstuff @shinyfaerielights  @blkmxrvel @marvelwomenrule @sarahjohannson @casualfoxwitch @babytakeittothehead

[vampireimiko]

pregnant reader x miguel o’hara: gabis first parent teacher conference and they’ve gotta explain why she keeps saying her dads gonna whoop the kids ass whenever they piss her off

parent teacher conference

warnings, none at all !! just like 1 cuss word or something 💀

note, THANK YEW FOR REQUESTING VENUS 🫶���🫶🏾, this is the longest oneshot ive ever made😭 anyway i hope you all enjoy !!

It's Parent Teacher Conference night, and Miguel finds himself sitting near the back of the auditorium to keep an eye on the meeting. There seems to be a bit of arguing between teachers and parents about the workload being too much for some students, when he senses a presence next to him and looks up to see that you, his wife, sits to his left, who is visibly pregnant and with her own plate filled with food.

"Oh my god- Miguel! This food is so good, do you want some?" You said, mouth full of a bit of everything on your plate. Miguel chuckled at your antics and shook his head no.

"As entertaining as this is" He says pointing towards the arguments in front of him, "I'm just ready to have our 1 on 1 with Gabriella's teacher."

You agreed with him, as you two had been sitting here for quite some time. But just like clockwork, Gabriella's teacher, Ms. Rose walked up to you and Miguel letting you know she was ready to have your conference.

Ms. Rose greeted you both with a warm smile, her eyes briefly glancing at your visibly pregnant belly before focusing on the matter at hand. "Thank you both for being here tonight! I appreciate your dedication to Gabriella's education."

You exchanged a nod and a smile, grateful for the teacher's acknowledgment. Miguel stepped forward, his voice filled with genuine interest. "We're looking forward to hearing about Gabriella's progress and any areas where we can support her better."

"Of course! Please if you could follow me to my classroom and we can get straight into discussing." With that being said, you and Miguel get up from the seats with him having to help you. It was getting hard for you stand up by yourself and you absolutely could not wait to have this baby out of you. Anyway enough of that, you and Miguel make your way too the classroom following behind Ms. Rose.

She opens the door and encourages you two to sit wherever. As you settled into the seats, she began sharing Gabriella's achievements and areas for improvement, providing a comprehensive overview of her academic journey.

The both of you listened to her intently, focusing on what Gabriella needed a bit more help on. You and Miguel took turns asking questions and clarification's on certain things. You could tell Ms. Rose genuinely cared about her students, taking the time to learn they're strengths and challenges.

"Now despite Gabriella being absolutely wonderful, there is one more thing I'd like to address." Ms Rose said switching her tone to a more serious one. You and Miguel looked at one another then back at her.

"Yes?"

"I've been overhearing Gabriella tell people that Mr. O'Hara here would come up to the school and in her words, 'whoop anybody who pisses me off'."

The both of your eyes widened. Miguel knew he said that, you know he said that, hell even the baby inside of you knew he said it! Not only did be say that, but he meant it aswell. Nobody is messing with his babygirl.

"Miguel!" You slapped his shoulder, putting on a serious front up in front of Ms. Rose, knowing damn well you wanted so badly to burst out laughing.

The room fell into an awkward silence as Ms. Rose observed the exchange between you, Miguel, and your shared reaction. Your attempt to maintain a serious demeanor in front of her was quickly crumbling as your suppressed laughter threatened to burst forth.

Miguel's face turned a shade of red, realizing the weight of his words and the potential consequences they might have had. He cleared his throat, trying to compose himself, his eyes darting between you, Ms. Rose, and the floor.

"I-I apologize Ms. Rose. That was a misguided attempt at humor. I never intended for her to come to school and say something like that." He said rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

Ms. Rose, her expression a mix of amusement and understanding, nodded. "I appreciate your honesty, Miguel. It's essential to address such statements to ensure a safe and inclusive environment for everyone."

You struggled to contain your laughter, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Taking a deep breath, you managed to compose yourself enough to speak without bursting into giggles. "Yes, Ms. Rose, we apologize for any confusion caused. We'll make sure to have a conversation with Gabriella about appropriate language and the importance of respectful interactions."

Ms. Rose's lips curved into a gentle smile. "I understand that children can sometimes pick up on our words and interpret them in unexpected ways. It's important for us as adults to model the behavior we want to see in them."

Fast foward to being done with the conference, you and Miguel were walking too the car. He stopped the both of you and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion as he leans down to your stomach.

"Just to let you know, that same statement in there goes for you too."

𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞; 𝐖𝐎𝐎 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐰 !! 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬, 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐬𝐦 (𝐢𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩��𝐜𝐭𝐟𝐮𝐥) 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 !!

𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

[incorrectbatfam]

The batfam as teacher comment section in report card.

Dick: Mr. Grayson brings a contagious energy to the class and his enthusiasm is well-appreciated. However, he tends to channel that energy very physically and while that may benefit his learning, it's a disruption to other students. This is a frequently recurring issue that I would like to discuss with a parent or guardian.

Translation – Is this kid ADHD because he won't sit the FUCK down

Jason: Mr. Todd has displayed remarkable attention to detail and a love of literature that I can only attribute to positive reinforcement at home, and he's always a pleasure to have in class. As much as I appreciate seeing him apply his lessons outside of school hours, I believe there are more productive avenues of discussing Shakespearean playwriting with his peers than what he has been reportedly doing. 

Translation – Stop biting your thumb at people

Tim: Mr. Drake continues to exceed expectations in his schoolwork, but his attendance and participation may become a detriment to his overall grades if unaddressed. I have caught him sleeping in class on multiple occasions but he has yet to provide me a reason why he is so tired. Additionally, last month one of our monitors caught him loitering in the bathroom with a note that I did not recall writing. 

Translation – Get some sleep and also you can't make your own hall passes

Damian: I have had the privilege of teaching the Wayne family through my decades at this institution and I believe that Damian takes after his father the most in more ways than expected. His grades are stellar and he is well-organized, but I'm noticing familiar and concerning traits in his attitude and social interactions. I am requesting a meeting with his parent to understand the full context so I can devise a plan for out how to best support him. 

Translation – Forget falling, the apple is still on the damn tree

Duke: Mr. Thomas has been a pleasure to have in my chemistry lab and is always willing to help classmates who are struggling. However, after last week's minor combustion reaction mishap, I think it would be worthwhile to review the lab safety packet that all students received at the beginning of the year. 

Translation – How did you set water on fire

Cullen: Mr. Row displays a passion for transformative literature and demonstrates a clear understanding of modern media culture that has helped him synthesize a lot of our complex readings. However, I'm concerned about his laptop being a distraction, especially with numerous incidences of him looking at non-academic material.  

Translation – Quit reading fanfics in class

Stephanie: You should be pleased to know that Miss Brown consistently keeps the well-being of her peers in mind. This semester, she launched a meal initiative for students whose needs could not be met by the school cafeteria. While we value her good intentions, she has been causing hallway obstructions and there are some regulatory concerns that we need to discuss. 

Translation – She sold pancakes in the halls without a permit

Cassandra: Although Miss Cain is relatively quiet in class, she continues to blow me away with her breadth of knowledge not just on class materials, but also interpersonal details. While this is a good skill to cultivate, we ask that she dial it back especially with our faculty. Additionally, please remember that the teacher's lounge is a staff-only space and students should remain in the common areas. 

Translation – She knows too much

Barbara: Miss Gordon is easily one of the best AP Computer Science students I've seen in my twenty years of teaching. She even went above and beyond the scope of our class to apply what we've learned to a greater school context. While that is deserving of credit, I'd also like to remind her that, in the future, certain ideas should be subjected to careful consideration before actions are taken. 

Translation – She hacked the lunch menu to make every day French Fry Friday 

Harper: Miss Row has a remarkable aptitude for the engineering process that exceeds beyond what students her age can typically grasp, and she is very inventive in her own right. That being said, I would appreciate it if she followed our lesson plans more closely and reviewed our guidelines for woodshop safety so everyone can continue to have a positive experience.

Translation – She made a working crossbow out of popsicle sticks

Carrie: Miss Kelley is a bright student who brings positive energy that is very much needed, especially in morning classes. However, she's been falling behind with several missing assignments at this point, and her explanations for why she cannot finish her work don't seem to be sufficient. 

Translation – "Killer Croc ate my homework" Yeah and I'm Batman

Kate: Miss Kane seems to be very eager to move forward to the next stage of her life, as evidenced by her Career Day presentation. While I believe young people should be free to explore their passions, I also think that Kate would benefit from some workshops outlining more feasible options. 

Translation – "Get bitches" isn't a career goal

Alfred: Mr. Pennyworth is easily one of the best students this institution has seen, both in his academic record and extracurricular activities. He recently expressed interest in the sharpshooting team, which I will not discourage him from, seeing how highly accurate he is. As of this year, I will be retiring as the coach for the team, but I wish him all the best.

Translation – I'm not about to get on his bad side

Selina: Miss Kyle's resourcefulness continues to astound me. Earlier in the semester, she forgot her locker combination and quickly improvised a mechanism to safely unlock it using only the materials around her. The speed and accuracy with which she did that will surely benefit her in the future. 

Translation – Did... did she just pick a lock with another lock?

Bruce: No further comments. 

Translation – whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck—

[iridiss]

Mystreet AU where all of the Phoenix Drop High staff are the divine warriors. MCD!Aphmau is a reincarnation of the last Irene, and she restarted the world when the final battle against Shad was going poorly, and Mystreet was created instead, with MCD!Aphmau being reincarnated into Mystreet!Aphmau. The other Divine Warriors (including the first Irene), were recycled into this school with no powers and new lives, completely powerless to the universal change that Aphmau has made. So now they’re forced to adapt to this new world and blend in, whether they like it or not, effectively trapped in this school until they can figure out what the hell happened, and somehow undo it. They all have retained most or all of their memories from their previous life. This makes staff meetings incredibly awkward

Shad is the principal, he runs this school very begrudgingly. He hates his job, but hey, he was able to lead an army in Hell! How much harder can leading highschoolers be?

Irene is the school counselor. The only one. She still has no emotions. This makes her not very successful at her job, but hey, she tries. The students are theorizing that she and the principal are divorced, or exes in some way or another, because of the incredibly grudge-filled looks they keep giving each other. They are forced to work in vague proximity with one another, and no one is enjoying it. They have to maintain workplace diplomacy and after learning what kind of world Shad is trapped in now, he realizes that he can’t actually kill her unless he wants to be arrested and thrown in jail forever. Which would suck ass, because he’s pretty certain the source of their new predicament is somewhere in this school alongside them, and if he wants any luck at getting out, he’s going to have to play along.

Irene and Shad are at least able to remain thinly diplomatic with one another. Shad and Esmund, however—never in a million years will they be civil with one another. They have gotten in very confusing shouting matches in front of the kids before. And yet Esmund never gets fired, (…i don’t think Shad has figured out that he can do that yet…) so the kids start to spread rumors that Esmund is hooking up with or used to be hooking up with the principal. Esmund and Shad find out, and all of the students get in ungodly amounts of trouble for this.

Enki tried to reconnect with his old friend Shad at some point. It didn’t go well. He left his office as quickly as he came in at the first sight of his glare.

It becomes surprisingly easy (and very existential crisis-inducing) to finally be able to tell Aphmau and Irene apart when they’re two entirely separate people standing in the same room. Shad realizes that this Aphmau is probably what caused this, but problem 1. She doesn’t remember a damn thing and is therefore extremely unhelpful, and problem 2. That’s A Child. That’s A Literal Actual Child. That’s some 13yo baby that is entirely innocent and bright-eyed and oblivious to anything and everything that went down in her past lives. And in my mind, Shad has a soft spot for children. Like, a HUGE soft spot, because he used to be a father and his daughter meant the world to him. He’d do anything to get her back and protect her from all the horrors that he could not save her from. Thats his entire villain motivation. Thats the entire reason why he hates Irene and becomes The Shadow Lord and raises an army and pillages the world and everything else. The Shad in my head would be physically incapable of hurting a child.

So I can see Shad calling Aphmau into his office very early in the first semester, ready to confront her and duel all over again…only to realize that, no, this is an separate, innocent child who remembers nothing and might even be an entirely different reincarnation of who she was before. Her memories might even be wiped, completely inaccessible and gone forever. He has an existential crisis, awkwardly apologizes and plays it off as some sort of joke, asks if she needs anything (putting back on his “I’m a normal human being” mask). She says she needs directions to her classes, so he scrounges up a random map and hands it to her and sends her off. He re-evaluates everything he’s known for the past 900 years.

Shad becoming strangely protective of 13yo Aphmau,,, this is just some kid,, he’s forced to re-evaluate everything and adjusts how he sees his students. From “oh good a new army I’m gonna have to mold from scratch /sarc” to “i…i have gone from zero children…to thousands…. thousands of children put under my care…i need to protect all of them at once” man goes mega mother hen mode, especially since his dangerous traitorous ex-wife is in the same building as them, he definitely sees her and the other divine warriors as threats to his kids.

Irene bringing Aphmau into her office as well, but she approaches things very differently from Shad. She cuts straight to the chase, and tells Aphmau she needs to remember. She’s done something terrible, and needs to reverse it and put the world back in order. She needs to remember her old life and become the newest Irene, take on all the power and the responsibility that being a Goddess entails, and set everything right. 13yo Aphmau freaks out, confused and lost. Irene lays the pressure on hard, and keeps pushing when Aphmau insists that she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. Shad opens the door, sensing she was here with her, and looks like he’s doing everything in his power to hold himself back from punching her square in the face. They have a very terse, carefully worded micro-argument, and Shad insists Aphmau must return to her classes, her education is more important than anything Irene has to stay to her. He gets very protective of her and basically professional-business-talk tells her to fuck right off and never speak to her again. Aphmau is still confused. He ushers her out, and awkwardly asks if she’s alright. She says…i…think…so???? What just happened??? Shad tells her to be careful around that woman, and don’t believe a word she says. She’s full of lies, anyway. Aphmau’s like. you mean the school counselor???????? It’s a very strange day for Aphmau.

insert the kids joking about how Garroth/travis/aaron/Aphmau must be related to certain members of the staff here

[maxdibert]

Hi! Could you tell me your top 5 least favorite Harry Potter characters and why?

My 5 most hated characters in Harry Potter are:

5 - Molly Weasley: I can’t stand this woman. I can’t stand how she acts like a morally superior, pure-blood yet holds endless prejudices, especially (and mostly) toward other, younger women. I don’t like her tradwife vibe, and I don’t like how overbearing and suffocating she is. Seriously, in real life, I’d feel the urge to tell her off—she’s that typical annoying woman who doesn’t know where the boundaries are.

4 - Remus Lupin: Zero sympathy for a man almost forty who got a 24-year-old girl pregnant and then abandoned her. Remus Lupin is a coward and a piece of trash, a bullying accomplice who keeps his head down regarding his own actions and needs a 17-year-old to teach him a lesson in manhood. I really wish Tonks had left him and taken off with Teddy to get as far away as possible from that pathetic excuse for a person.

3 - Dumbledore: Starting with the fact that the entire problem of the story basically stems from his irresponsibility with Tom Riddle, which already showed that he was a terrible teacher. He only shows concern for students who can serve his purposes or suck up to him, and his involvement throughout the story shows a moral stance I find nauseating. I mean, he’s a guy who has the nerve to lecture his former students who “chose the wrong path,” but when those same students were under his care, he constantly neglected and rejected them just because they didn’t belong to a certain house. He had the audacity to call Severus Snape “miserable” when it was Dumbledore himself who allowed Snape to be bullied and almost killed without lifting a finger to stop it or punish the bullies. This same Dumbledore scolds Draco Malfoy for not trusting him when from Draco’s first day at Hogwarts, all he saw from the old man was favoritism toward a certain house and certain students, completely ignoring the rest. Honestly, I’d have banned him from teaching. There’s a lot said about Snape as a teacher, but Dumbledore was responsible for everything, allowed terrible things to happen, and turned his back on many vulnerable children and teenagers. Then he acted all surprised when they ended up in bad places. Screw him, hypocritical old man.

2 - Ginny Weasley: The “I’m not like other girls,” the “shut up, Hermione, you don’t know anything about Quidditch,” the “everyone look at me, I hex people, I’m one of the boys, I’m not vain but I’m hot, but I’m not prissy,” the “I make fun of girls who are pretty, flirty, and feminine because I’m a textbook pick-me girl” who is shoved into the end of the series. She’s a character who didn’t matter at all throughout the story; she’s barely mentioned in some books, but suddenly she’s Harry’s love interest because J.K. Rowling needed all her characters to end up married with 468749284 kids, and Harry needed to be part of the Weasley family. So, they had to do something. Ginny is a terrible character, going from irrelevant to some sort of Mary Sue who even the Slytherins drool over and who, of course, is not a “typical girl” because being a “typical girl” in Rowling’s world is somehow the original sin. So, she’s great at sports, hexes people, pulls pranks because she’s so cool, uh uh uh, she’s not like the others, uh uh uh, but she has internalized misogyny that you can smell from here to China. Honestly, someone should have slapped her for being so damn stupid.

1 - James Potter: There’s nothing I haven’t already said about James Potter. He’s a character who really grinds my gears because they try to sell him as some kind of hero, but he was just a spoiled rich kid who decided to torment a poor, vulnerable boy simply because that boy was friends with his crush. He used his social power and status to get away with all the crap he pulled, attacked in groups, lied to his girlfriend saying he’d stopped bullying people when he really hadn’t, and when he was supposed to be locked up in a house with his wife and son, he was off fooling around with his best friend. James Potter was an ass, and defending him is defending classism, elitism, and whitewashing social classes. I’m not going to explain why.

[bring-forth-his-sac]

The Christmas Party - Chapter 4

Summary: after spending some days apart, you and Negan finally find a way to sort out your differences, and it involves a whooooooooole lot of balls

Tags: Modern AU, Teacher AU, Gossip, Swearing, Pet Names, Slow Burn, friendly competitive games, sexual innuendos

Word Count: 7.3k (I'm sorry, idk how tf this is getting so long)

Michonne likes her job. It’s cushy, which isn’t what most people would assume. But being principal of Alexandria High is something she fought for and something she earned. In many ways, it’s exactly where she’s supposed to be.

Not only that, but she gets to be closer to her kids. For the first time, Michonne can embrace the role of the classic mom—carpooling with her children, loudly saying “I love you” and reminding them not to forget their lunch as they all walk into the same building.

Carl doesn’t mind it much. At this point, he sees it more as an inside joke between himself and his stepmom.

Judith, on the other hand, still squirms every time she gets out of the car with Principle Grimes, her eyes darting around to see if anyone is taking notice. 

Michonne doesn’t take offense though, she knows it’s because Judith is still adjusting to “big school”, eager to make a good impression during her first year.

She had to deal with a blunder last week between Gregory, Rosita and Sasha. Once again, it was up to her to clean up Gregory’s incompetence while he played victim. 

If Michonne had her way, firing him would have been her first decree as principal. And he wouldn’t have been the last to be fired either. Michonne can think of a few she would’ve picked off straight away if it wasn’t for unfair dismissal laws. 

Saying goodbye to both of her kids, she makes her way down the corridor, pretending not to hear the students going wild in some of the classrooms as they let out their energy before classes start. They’re more hyper than usual for a Monday but since this is the last week of classes, she understands the excitement.

Strolling into her office, she comes face to face with another ‘if only I could fire them without lawful reasoning’ candidate.

“Holy fuckin’ shit, no way Ricky Dicky got you this weird ass piñata for Christmas,” Negan giggles when she walks in, holding up a gift she got for her birthday.

“Carl, actually,” she corrects him, watching carefully to make sure he doesn’t drop the statue “and it’s a unicorn he and Judith painted, not a piñata”.

With raised eyebrows, Negan gently places it back down on the desk. “Well, shit, ain’t they… creative” he treads carefully, not wanting to piss her off.

“Is there a reason you’re lurking in my office?” Michonne gets straight to business, making her away around the desk and to her chair. 

Negan sits opposite her, making himself comfortable “Well, it’s about the Christmas party”.

Michonne debates hiding her smirk but she can’t help it. Negan’s a man that always chooses to be cocky, so why shouldn’t she when she knows something he doesn’t?

Reading her smirk, Negan can’t help but scoff at himself. He’d been expecting a reaction like this. 

“Yeah, I know it sounds stupid,” he mutters.

Michonne twirls a finger in the air, gesturing to her grin. “Oh, this?” she says, her smirk widening “It’s not because you think this whole thing is stupid. It’s because I know exactly what you’re about to say”.

Negan shifts in his seat, caught between feeling a little embarrassed and strangely intrigued. He crosses one leg over the other.

“Is that so?” he says, his tone casual but curious.

“I had a certain English teacher in here on Friday,” Michonne keeps her information vague “she may have mentioned the staff Christmas party as well”.

“Did she mention how she can’t keep her damn mouth shut? Or that she’s the control freak?” he interjects “actually, no I want to hear what she’s said about me and how she’s spinning this whole thing”.

Michonne huffs “Funnily enough I could say the same thing to describe you”.

He rolls his eyes, trying not to mumble anything under his breath in case she hears.

“Actually, she explained everything, from the text message to you deserting her. In fact I think she told me too much, usually when you bunk off your job, you don’t tell your boss” Michonne says, her tone level.

Negan nods knowingly “She has a tendency to keep running her mouth, even when she shouldn’t”.

“And she also asked if the staff party could be held somewhere other than the sports hall, since she tells me it’s essentially your hall,” Michonne continues  “Which is odd, because I’ve never seen your name above the door”.

“It is my hall,” he snaps, his chest puffing out “everyone knows it is. My office is right next door —which has my name on the door— and out of all the coaches, I’ve been here the longest. So, yeah, my hall”.

Michonne just watches him, silently grateful she doesn’t have to deal with Negan more often. “Well, the party will still be held there, and when it comes to the two of you constantly clashing, I’ll say to you the exact same thing I told her”.

Michonne pauses, making sure Negan is actually paying attention.

“Whether you help plan the party while she doesn’t, or she plans it while you don’t, or both of you just plan the damn thing,” she says, speaking slowly, hoping it’ll sink in “I. Don’t. Care.”

Negan clamps his mouth shut, holding back a curse. “That’s your big advice?” he questions, incredulity in his voice. “Seriously?”

He’s met with a flat look “Negan, it’s a Christmas party. Let’s not overcomplicate things ”.

Leaning back in her chair, she glances over the paperwork she should be working on “I’m not going to force you two to work together. If you’re not that interested in helping, then don’t and let another coach help when it comes to setting things up in the hall. Simple as that.

Michonne picks up a pen and begins writing on one of the pages in front of her, giving him the sign that they’re done here.

This is easier than Negan expected. Where’s the whole “you need to work together for the sake of Christmas party magic” speech? The guilt trip about teamwork and holiday cheer?

He expected more pushback, more of Michonne’s insistence that they both need to cooperate and sing kumbaya. 

But instead, it’s just… simple. She doesn’t care.

And, sure, they both irritated the hell out of each other, but now that they’re not being forced into the same space, he finds himself missing it a little. He had started getting into a rhythm—annoying her, sparring with her and slowly picking up on her banter. 

It had become a game of sorts, and he’d almost gotten good at it.

But then again, he did walk away from her. And she never came crawling back with an apology, so maybe this is for the best. Neither of them had the patience to stick it out.

After a few seconds, when Negan doesn’t move, Michonne stills her movements. “I can hear you breathing,” she comments, keeping her head down and reading through the sheets on her desk.

“So?”.

“So, I’m busy? Go get ready for class— oh, actually, while I have you here,” Michonne looks over at him and Negan can see the shift from bored principal to fiery mama bear. 

He stands, getting ready to leave. 

Pointing her pen at him, she keeps her voice calm and steady “You make fun of Carl’s eye again and I’m giving the Coach Smith that actually does his job, your office”.

Negan knows better than to test her, or to even let a word alip about how Coach Mark Smith is off tanning in Jamaica, something he definitely doesn’t consider “doing his job”. 

Straightening up, he gives a quick nod and mutters a simple, “Yes, Ma’am,” before hightailing it out the door.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

What’re you on now? Plan C? Or D?

Plan A went out the window with your pettiness, when you decided to plan the Christmas party just to spite Negan.

Plan B, trying to work with Negan, crumbled and left you stranded at Target. You owe Carol big time for driving out and collecting you. Although you hope the amount of cookies you baked with her afterwards means that you’re both even.

Plan C… well, that hasn’t technically failed, nor has it gotten you off the hook, thanks to Michonne being indifferent either way. 

And now that's brought you on to plan D, which so far has been giving constant reassurance to a fully grown man.

“I don’t think I should be doing this,” Joey’s bottom lip wobbles and for a moment, you genuinely believe you’re about to see a tear roll down his stubbled cheek.

“Joey, you’re just helping me measure” you reply, holding onto the other end of the measuring tape as the wary man makes his way down to the other end of the hall. 

You came to work today with a plan. After avoiding Negan for the remainder of last week and having the weekend to get your shit together, you’ve decided that you’re going to continue planning this party. 

The major difference now?

You’re doing it from your own free will, not letting accidental texts or pettiness be the driving force… although in saying that, you also didn’t want to deal with Gregory’s passive aggressiveness.

So after a quick stop at Negan’s office before he arrived, you side-stepped into the sports hall next, and found your new helper, Joey.

“Yeah but…” he hesitates to even say his name “Negan doesn’t know you’re here, and if he finds out I’ve let you in here…”.

In a sense, you feel bad for Joey. It’s his first year at Alexandria High too but he’s already been indoctrinated into the Negan cult, which consists of Negan, Joey and whoever Negan’s trying to swoon for the week.

“Classes start in twenty minutes, he isn’t even here yet,” you attempt to comfort him for the fourth time this morning “besides, you’re just helping me get measurements, this isn’t the end of the world”.

“Yeah, but I don’t want Negan to think I’m betraying him by doing this, or that I’m choosing your side over his,” Joey babbles and you try not to take offense “I asked him last Friday how the planning was going for the party and he— jeez, if you saw the look on his face when I mentioned you!”.

Gulping, you shift slightly and try to change topics “Are you at the end of the hall?”.

“Oh!” Joey stoops down and presses the end of the tape to the wall “Ok, ready!”.

You write down the measurements in your notebook before calling Joey back. 

Unfortunately, he continues to ramble. “I mean, it was like his whole face changed when I mentioned your name! I was just asking about it cause I was wondering if he got into your pants yet but damn, you must’ve turned him down bad!”. 

You wonder if this is how irritating you sound when you ramble.

As Negan walks down the hallway to his office, he lets out a long breath. No more Christmas party for him. It’s someone else’s problem, whether or not that be his favourite love-to-hate and hate-to-love English teacher. 

He tunes out the chatter coming from the sports hall, not in the mood to deal with teens who’ve sneaked in before class for a quick game of basketball.

He enters his office and takes a moment to drop his bag onto the chair, releasing a long sigh. Like shit he would ever leave Michonne give Mark his office. At this point, Negan’s sure he has squatters rights. 

He removes his winter coat and casually tosses it over the old coat rack. Despite the cluttered state of his desk, it's organized in a way only he seems to understand. Negan knows exactly where everything is but something’s… off.

Something’s different.

His gaze shifts to the small pumpkin statue from Target, its green stalk hidden beneath a tiny Christmas hat. Negan frowns, frustration creeping in. Dammit. 

This guilt-tripping crap shouldn’t work on him. And it won’t. You can buy him the pumpkin but it doesn’t change how you have a bad habit of blurting out the wrong thing at the worst possible time.

Still, he can’t remember the last time someone bought him an actual present. His colleagues never get him anything, unless you count glares. His students skedaddle out of his class the second they have the chance, his only gift there being the peace and quiet they leave behind. 

It must’ve been Lucille who last got him a gift, years ago. His leather jacket to be exact. He rarely wears it to work, not wanting some kid’s dirty paws to taint it. 

That’s just for him. 

After he walked out on you at Target, you’ve both kept your distance, neither one willing to make the first move. But now, it's a new week, with the staff party only a few days away. 

And here sits a little pumpkin on his desk, it's Christmas hat perched jauntily on top. With a low hum, Negan flicks the hat of the pumpkin as he heads out of his office, his sixth sense tingling. 

Letting the other end of your measuring tape zip back into place, Joey strolls the width of the hall back to you.

“So, you not a fan of the lanky type?” he asks, shrugging with as much nonchalance as he can muster “Since you rejected Negan and all”.

It's a real talent suppressing your cringe that fast. You force a tight-lipped smile, trying to set the record straight. 

“I never rejected— I mean, I would have if he—look, Joey, I don’t judge people or decide whether I’m attracted to them based on their—"

“Prefer them with some meat on their bones?" he cuts in, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth when you can't come up with a satisfactory answer.

You’re about to let out a defeated sigh but then you wonder if you can use this to your advantage. 

"You know what really gets me going?" you ask, the words alone making Joey’s face go bright red. "A guy who isn’t afraid of what others think, who’ll help people without worrying if it pisses off... oh, let’s say a meaner, older man”.

Before Joey can even respond, a suspiciously cheerful voice cuts in from the doorway.

"There ain't no way I've just walked in on some dirty talk," Negan grins, leaning against the frame with that trademark smirk of his "And to make it even better, you're describing me, sweetheart! Damn, I didn’t realise I turned you on so much”.

Your jaw clenches but you try to keep things cordial. “Negan,” you give a small nod in greeting “I was just leaving”.

He glances over at the numbers written on your open notebook. “Oh, very busy, I see,” he remarks, before deciding that’s enough small talk “how about we have a chat?”.

“About what?” Joey asks, still standing there.

You glance at Joey, but it’s Negan’s pointed look that makes him realize he’s intruding. 

“I’ve got a class in here in about…” Negan checks his watch “ten minutes. How about you head to the storage room, grab whatever balls are in there, and line them up for me? I’ll let the kids blow off some of that pent up Monday morning energy with a game of dodgeball”.

Before Joey can protest, Negan tosses him the keys. Joey fumbles, barely catching them as he hurries off.

“You got it, si— bos— I mean, Negan!” he takes off down to the dusty storage room on the far side of the gym.

“Jesus Christ,” Negan lets out a low chuckle “I’m surprised he hasn’t asked to call me Daddy yet”.

A disgusted scoff leaves your throat and you grip your notebook a little tighter, ready to leave. And yet you want to stay, just to hear what Negan has to say.

Negan crosses his arm, eyes locked somewhere in the middle distance as Joey unlocks the storage room and disappears inside. You stay in your spot a few paces away from Negan, feeling the weight of the silence pressing on you, unspoken words hanging in the air.

After a long pause, he speaks in a much more serious tone “You know, you’re really good at pushing buttons”. 

Putting a hand up to stop him, you quickly clarify “The pumpkin is just a peace offering. I’m not expecting us to get along but I don’t want us to be at each other’s throats for the rest of the school year either”.

Joey hurries out of the with some basketballs and places them in a line along the centre of the hall before going to get more. 

“I get it, I’m not your favorite person—hell, I’m not anyone’s favorite person,” Negan continues once Joey’s gone “but at Target… damn, you don’t have to go there. Not like that”.

Sighing, you avoid eye contact. The words still feel fresh on your tongue but you know you have to face them. 

“I didn’t mean to go there,” you reply “I just… I imploded and I don’t want to excuse it by saying you pushed me to it… I could’ve been more careful with what I said”.

Your stomach drops when you hear him laugh bitterly. There’s no real humor behind it and your defenses go up in an instant. The warning lights are starting to light up in your head. 

“You’ve got a hell of a way of showing that,” he pauses, biting back something sharper “It’s… it’s not that simple for me and I get it, I’m an asshole. But to bring her up when I take it too far? Or piss you off just a little too much?”.

Some footsteps echo behind you as Joey drops more balls down in the middle of the room, heading back into the storage room and not noticing a battered handball roll over to join your conversation with Negan.

You watch as it rolls closer.

Shifting from foot to foot, Negan folds his arms. “I mean, shit, I know I shouldn’t have driven off without you but what do you expect me to do after you said that?” he asks.

A flicker of that well known frustration bubble before you sigh. “Maybe I expected you to—I don’t know—talk to me instead of running away every time things get tough? I don’t say these things to be a jackass to you, Negan, I say it because… well, yeah I’m pissed off but also because no one else has the balls to say it to you”.

The handball nudges your shoe.

“No pun intended” you add, a thought springing into your head.

You can see your walls going up, and the same with Negan. It’s a toxic cycle of annoying each other and then escalating it whenever you try to hear the other person out. You can tell he’s getting annoyed again just by rehashing it.

Time for Plan E… which you may or may not have just made up now impulsively. 

Getting restless, Negan switches to putting his hands on his hips “I do talk, damn it, but you just—”.

WHAM!

Before Negan can finish, a handball comes flying from your direction, slamming right into his chest with a loud thud. He stumbles back, eyes wide in surprise.

Negan doesn’t have to feign any shock. Not when that’s just happened. But he’s not angry about it. If anything, the random ball attack has made him break his serious streak. 

“Goddamn, woman! What the hell was that for?!” he looks at you, bewildered.

You let your notebook fall to the floor and take a few steps back, edging towards the centre of the hall. 

“Ever since you deserted me, you’ve been dodging me so I figured you’d be good at dodging that too” you shrug.

Placing a hand dramatically over his chest, Negan glares at you, though the playful anger in his eyes betrays any real frustration. “Really? A damn handball?” he tuts “The one time I’m tryin’ to be serious, and this is what I get?”.

You stop when you feel a soccer ball nudge the back of your shoe, letting you know you’ve successfully made it to the halfway mark of the hall.

“You piss me off,” you state the obvious “I piss you off. We piss each other off so fucking much and I am sick of it! Talking it out is just making us both angry again and that’ll lead to one of us saying something stupid – again”.

To show you mean business, you pick up the soccer ball. Joey, confused as ever, just continues with the job Negan gave him. 

“We both fucked up, I get that and I am sorry, Negan,” you say solemnly before huffing “but fuck! You just annoy me so much! And ’cause of that, I think we should just get this out of our systems… so, you game?”.

The hint of a smile creeps up on his face, playful offence melting into amusement.

���Y’know when two people need to get something out of their system, this ain’t the kinda balls that’re involved, sweetheart,” with a grunt he bends over and picks up the handball. 

You don’t move, fingers strumming against the soccer ball. Joey inadvertently fills up your supply of ammo by bringing out a few more balls out. 

“Are you seriously gonna make me play dodgeball to work this out?” Negan calls your bluff, narrowing his eyes at you as he rolls his shoulders.

“Unless you’re too scared”.

Damn you. Negan smirks, knowing full well you know he’s not about to turn this down. His eyes gleam with mischief  “Scared? Hell no, I just—”. 

Hoping you wouldn’t be expecting a ball hurled at you mid-sentence, Negan throws the handball, narrowly missing your head. It smacks off the ground and you gulp, releasing he’s not about to take it easy on you.

“…I just needed to warm up. Let’s do this,” Negan swings his arms to the side, stretching “Joey! Throw a few down this direction”.

As if signaling the start of a war, three balls roll past you and come to a stop at Negan’s feet, their new commander in chief. The second he bends down to grab one, you seize your chance. 

Without hesitation, you send the soccer ball hurtling through the air.

What follows is pure chaos— dodgeball in its most frantic form. Balls fly in every direction, slamming into walls, ricocheting off bleachers, and nearly knocking over everything in sight.

You dive to the side, narrowly dodging one of Negan’s throws, which sails through the air and wallops against the wall.

Neither of you is holding back now. Negan cackles, the sound of his laughter filling the hall as he effortlessly dodges another ball. 

Joey, meanwhile, has wisely retreated to the safety of the storage room, peeking out from behind the door.

He cowers, half-hidden, making sure the door doesn’t slam shut and trap him in there, caught between wanting to stay out of the chaos and not wanting to be accidentally locked inside.

Negan laughs in between throws, his enthusiasm spurring you on. “Goddamn! This is one cruel and usual punishment, doll” he pants, a wide smile gracing his face.

It’s odd to see him so happy. Not smirking or smiling just to get under your skin. He’s like a dog that’s finally been let out to run wild, truly in his element.

Trying a new tactic, you throw a ball low to the ground, hoping to get his legs but Negan effortlessly leaps over it. 

“Well, if you didn’t cut our argument short then you wouldn’t be getting a face full of balls” you throw another, aiming for his head. He dodges it, bouncing his own ball off the ground as he readies his aim.

Negan grins before tossing the ball straight at your chest. You barely catch it, smiling back at him triumphantly.

“I get it, alright? I was being an ass leaving you stranded… and for trying to wind you up so much beforehand,” Negan shockingly gives a genuine apology “But you can’t just throw stuff at me and call it a ‘game’!”

Bouncing on your heels, you think carefully of your next move. Sure, you’re a little out of breath but this is the most fun you’ve had all month.

“I can if it makes you listen,” you quip back before issuing another apology of your own “look… I didn’t mean for what I said to be so harsh, okay? I was just mad. I don’t want to be that person, but sometimes you’re so damn stubborn… it gets under my skin”.

Negan slows his movements, watching you carefully for a second. The playful energy fades just enough to let sincerity peek through.

“I’m sorry, you’re sorry, can we go back to planning this awful party now?” he asks, surprising even himself by still wanting to help with this damned thing.

Throwing the last ball at him, you manage to catch Negan off guard and hit him square in the shoulder. “One condition, you actually put in some effort” you reveal your single demand.

“No promises but I’ll try. Alright?”.

With a half-hearted laugh, you step away from the ball and approach your opponent.

“Alright” you stick out your hand. Negan looks down at your hand, back up at you and finally, he shakes it.

There’s a moment of quiet, both of you catching your breath as the ridiculousness of the game breaks the tension between you. “I gotta say,” you pant slightly “you’ve got one hell of a throw”.

He laughs, nudging one of the balls to roll back toward the center of the room. “What can I say, I’m good with my hand” that familiar smirk is back, but surprisingly, it doesn’t irk you as much as it did before.

Still, you can’t resist sending a playful glare in his direction. Just to keep him on his toes.

Joey hesitantly steps out from the storage room, glancing around nervously. You watch as he clings to the door, ready to duck and dive at the slightest threat.

“Is it over? Who won?” he asks, his voice cautious.

Negan looks over at him, a grin still on his face. “The school did,” he calls out “considering it’s still got us two fucks planning this party”.

You glance back at Negan, finding his eyes still locked on you, studying you with an intensity that makes something stir in your chest. 

His voice lowers, smooth and almost too casual, as he asks, “If I call you later, will you pick up? To talk about the Christmas party, of course.”

You let a slow smile spread across your face, leaning into the moment. “I might reject your call, just out of instinct,” you tease, feeling the playful tension in the air.

Joey, clearly happy the dodgeball war has finally ended, at least for now, yells over with a grin, “You should definitely pick up!”.

You raise an eyebrow at the advice but there’s a warmth in your smile. “Like you said,” you nudge Negan lightly, the hint of something more lingering in your voice “no promises, but I’ll try”.

And with that, the mood between you both lightens, the game being an unexpected but fitting resolution to all the unspoken things between you.

From the doorway, Negan’s class of teens wait, unsure whether this is something that should be interrupted. 

A mixture of horror and amusement is plastered across their faces. “You owe me ten bucks,” Ron leans over to Carl and whispers “I told you they’re definitely banging”.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

The Alexandria High’s Teachers Midlife Crisis Support Line keeps you entertained after school. You had a few last minute presents to pick up and get ready for shipping, hoping an influx in gifts back to your parents will ease the blow of you not being home this Christmas. 

It’s a topic you try not to think about, let alone mention it to any friends you have here. And by ‘friends’ you do mean work colleagues , considering you haven’t exactly done a lot of socializing since you moved here. 

Reading the steady flow of messages helped ease the guilt of not travelling home though. And, you were actually given a reason to interact and send in some of your own messages! 

Most of it was you letting the others know more details about the party; what time to be there, dress code, are plus ones allowed.

Bustling up to the door of your apartment, you quickly send a text saying the party will start at 6 as you make your way inside. 

You don’t even have time to shut the door behind you when your phone pings with a private message.

Negan: isn’t 6 too early?

You: I thought it was a little late actually 

Negan: sounds like you’ve been to many parties

Negan: lol

Asshole. Ever since group chat started buzzing with life, Negan has been sharing his running commentary with you.

He still hasn’t sent a text into the group chat but seems to have no problem reading what’s being said and sending his thoughts to you in private messages. 

Kicking off your shoes and turning on the lights to your place, you decide to leave him wait for a response. Right now, your main priority is getting a well nourished dinner… which means microwaved popcorn and watching whatever Christmas movie you can find on Netflix. 

Poking the time into the microwave, you wander from room to room; going into the bedroom and quickly changing into some pyjamas, going to the bathroom to snag a few wipes for your make-up, before heading back to the kitchen, just in time to stop the microwave. 

You: wow I didn’t realize you were aching for another round of balls being thrown at you 

With your Christmas lights on, snacks at the ready and big glass of soda, you settle in for the night when… ping!

Negan: for that, you’re not getting your Christmas present until after the break

You debate throwing your phone onto the other side of the couch and simply ignoring him but he is unfortunately entertaining.

You: your the literal grinch, I know you didn’t get me anything 

It may have taken a while but you can finally feel yourself relaxing when it comes to Negan. Maybe all you both needed was the game of dodgeball to get past all that previous turbulence. 

You’re understanding his sense of humor, how he’ll flirt just for the hell of it and how he’s all bark and no bite. If you don’t fall for his charms and throw yourself at him after his first few attempts, Negan just flirts for fun.

Holding your phone in one hand, you use your remote to navigate through the tv channels with the other, stopping when you get to the Netflix app. With a ping, your attention is back to your other hand.

Negan: are you asking me to roleplay? ;)

First off, ew. Secondly, what the fuck, why does he have to make it weird? Well, maybe that’s the winky face’s fault but either way, you sneer at the message. You keep your response short, sweet and to the point.

You: perv

He responds immediately.

Negan: That’s not a no. I’ll even bring my santa hat

You: you’re right it’s not a no, it’s an absolutely NOT

You: and a Santa hat isn’t grinchy enough 

Getting flooded with notifications, your attention is briefly brought back to the teachers group chat.

Glancing at the top of your screen, you catch fragments of the ongoing conversation. Eugene and Aaron seem to be deep in a back-and-forth, trying to settle what the true definition of "casual attire" really is.

Negan: yes it is, he wore one in the movie

Negan’s private message grabs your attention and you try to ignore what’s happening in the group chat, for now.

You: still not grinchy enough 

You stare at your phone for a few moments but there’s no reply. Oh well. Directing your attention back to the tv, you open Netflix and begin browsing for some stereotypical Christmas romance. 

Across town, Negan picks up his controller again, his eyes locked onto his tv screen as a new team deathmatch begins.

His fingers work swiftly, selecting his loadout with practiced ease. Negan’s character moves forward, entering a tornado of bullets and death. 

He takes down two players in quick succession but before he can reload, some idiot with a rocket launcher blows him to pieces in a fiery explosion. Frustration bubbles up as he watches his character's remains scatter across the screen.

“Fuckin’ ass” Negan mumbles, checking his phone as he respawns. 

Normally, Negan would have his headset on, letting the pent-up frustration of the day spill out as he argues with whatever tween is shrieking down their mic. But tonight he’s opted to go for a quiet evening. 

Instead of unleashing his usual barrage of insults, he mutters them to himself under his breath.

As he fumbles to quickly type a message back to you, a smirk creeps across his face. He knows your reaction will be priceless. The way your eyes narrow and that subtle flush creeps up your cheeks whenever his teasing or flirting goes just a little too far.

You glance down at the message, and for a brief moment, your heart stops. You quickly look away, eyes darting to the search bar on your TV, trying to focus on anything else to steady your racing thoughts.

But after a deep breath, you force your gaze back to the screen, almost afraid to read it again. 

The words are unchanged, still sitting there, but your mind can't seem to process them. It's the same message, and yet, you find yourself unable to believe it.

Negan: What if I bring my green fursuit? Is that good enough?

Weird message, sure, but that’s not the shocking part. Swiping open the message, it doesn’t bring you to your private conversation with Negan.

No, instead you’re taken to Alexandria High’s Teachers Midlife Crisis Support Line, where Negan’s message is there as clear as day. 

Oh my god.

You can’t control your reaction, immediately going out of the group chat and to your contact info on Negan. Without a second thought, you hit call.

It rings once, twice and on the third ring, he answers. It’s like you have no autonomy anymore, simply letting your body work without any consultation with your brain. 

Negan is in the midst of trying to figure out of to delete a messages when your call comes through. When he answers, your name alongside his note of (good ass, weird at flirting) which he will have to change later to (good ass, great throw) lights up as you laugh down the phone to him.

“Oh my fucking god!” you basically squeal “how the fuck did you do that? Oh my g-”.

You can’t finish your sentence before your own laughter cuts you off again.

He stays uncharacteristically quiet but that doesn’t hinder you. With your other hand, you have to drop the tv remote to clutch your stomach, a pain beginning to linger from the laughter. 

“Now that, that has made my Christmas” you try to quieten your laughter and on the other end, you finally hear a chuckle.

“I mean, a green fursuit? Where the fuck did you come up with that?” you have to wipe a tear away.

“That’s the shit Jim Carrey had to wear,” his voice seems a little tight but he’s still chuckling “fuck’s sake, that’s it, I’m switching schools”.

Your laughter simmers down to a giggle “Quick, just delete the message before anyone else sees it!”.

“But how the fuck do I do that?” he blusters, a strange mix of self-assertiveness and panic coating his voice. 

You know you should stop laughing by now but everytime you can feel yourself gain some control over your laughter, you think of the situation at hand and lose it again.

“Just… just hold down on the message and… and wait until the different tabs pop up a-and then… you just have to tap delete” you struggle to get the words out, holding your nose in one hand to stop yourself from snorting.

Now that’s something you know Negan would pick up on, immediately directing all attention to that instead of his hilarious blunder.

“Fine, I’ll try that” he says gruffly before hanging up. You continue to laugh the second he’s gone, flopping onto your side and burying your head into the couch cushions. 

You drop your phone beside you, but only so you can stuff some popcorn into your mouth. Going for the phone again, you swiftly go back to the group chat to find the message has disappeared, and in its place a simple yet ambiguous message from the service provider.

*This user has deleted their message*

Before you can even tap out of the group, the phone starts to ring in your hand. You doesn’t waste any time answering, especially now that your giggles have subsided. 

“It’s gone,” you tell Negan, trying your best to sound serious “now all it says is that you deleted a message”.

“But does it say the fuckin’ message?” he asks, causing you to roll your eyes. 

“I literally just said it doesn’t,” you reiterate “do you listen at all?”.

Negan huffs loudly, muttering something under his breath. “And what was that?” you ask pointedly, wondering why you even answered the phone again. 

His huff turns into something of a chuckle “My ears must be fuckin’ deceiving me cause it just sounded like you used your teacher voice on me”.

“And what if I did?” you challenge.

He chuckles again, before letting out a teasing scoff “How the hell am I the one getting scolded? Shouldn’t you be tryin’ to comfort me for that shit? I mean, I’m fuckin’ traumatised over here”.

“You’re not the only one traumatised, did it say who saw the message?” You pop some more popcorn into your mouth.

“How the fuck would I know that?” Negan asks, leaving the lobby he’s in and going back to the game’s home screen.

“Damn, your age is really showing now,” you mumble but make sure to say it loud enough for him to hear “you swipe the message and it shows you who’s read it and who hasn’t yet… but you can’t do it now since you deleted it”. 

You may or may not have gone up an octave when you said that last part just to tease him.

“Well, that’s dumb. What’s the point in knowing how to do that when I can’t do it now?”.

“Because I thought you’d have the initiative to check before you deleted it,” you goad “jeez, how old are you? You really know fuck all about technology”. 

Negan retorts an equally goading reply, causing you both to quickly fall into their routine of bickering back and forth. “How old am I? I think that only matters if you have a thing for older men” he quips back.

“Only for older men in green fursuits” you tease.

“That can be arranged”.

Staring at the search bar, your perfect romantic Christmas movie so close yet so far away, your attention drifts away from the TV as you prop your feet up comfortably.

The next half hour slips by effortlessly. The conversation flows easily, a mix of casual banter and more personal exchanges, the kind of talk that somehow feels natural between you two. Time seems to slow as you get lost in the rhythm of the conversation, the world outside fading away for just a little while.

Negan raises an eyebrow, balancing his phone between his shoulder and neck.

“And should I even bring up the staff party?” he asks with a grin. Another round of gunshots echo in the background but this time, you don’t question it. Negan’s already had to fill you in on his unconventional form of therapy; video games.

“Ugh,” you sigh “I think the decorations are mostly done. I grabbed a few more things while I was out earlier… but honestly, the worst part is going to be setting it all up on the day. Other than that…”.

You think of the list in your notebook. “We still have food and drink to figure out” you recall “we gotta sort out music too but I was hoping we could just use the speakers in the sports hall? Just plug in a phone and turn on someone’s Christmas playlist“.

You hold your breath, bracing for the inevitable disagreement. You can already imagine the gruffness in his voice, the hard veto against it as Negan huffs and puffs “My speakers in my hall?! Never! I ain’t letting their dirty hands anywhere near my sound system!”.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Negan replies, to your surprise.

“Really?” You pause, wondering if this qualifies as a Christmas miracle.

“Uh-huh,” he continues, another round of gunfire crackling through the phone. “The other Coach Smith owns the speakers, so we get full reign of them. Besides, it’s the least he can do while he’s off spending the holidays in Jamaica”.

That makes more sense. 

“So that just leaves food and drink” you smile, feeling a little more hopeful about the party.

Negan lets out a long sigh as the match ends. Getting up, he holds his phone properly as he wanders to the kitchen for a beer.

“Buying the booze will be fine,” he dismisses “we just gotta go clear the shelves of a liquor store, pick up a bit of everything”.

You nod along. “Yeah, the booze will be the easier of the two… but the food, on the other hand…” You trail off, sucking in air through your teeth.

“Can’t we get the home ec teachers to do it?” he suggests casually “Carol’s fine. She’ll be a hardass about it, but she’ll probably do it”.

“I think I’ve run out of favors with Carol,” you admit “she was the one who picked me up from Target after you pulled that whole disappearing act”.

Negan pulls a face despite you not being able to see. “So just cold finger food snacks, then?” he suggests.

“Yeah, that works,” you agree reluctantly, then suddenly remember “Actually! Speaking of food… did you hear about Gregory eating a student’s pancakes?”.

Negan lets out an amused chuckle, taking another sip of his beer. “Jesus Christ, you really are a gossip” he shakes his head, the action more affectionate than he’d like to admit.

You laugh “Oh, shush, you love it”.

By the time you’ve filled Negan in on the school gossip and finally hang up, you’ve finished your popcorn, something Negan quickly caught onto, feigning offense that you were snacking during the call. 

After exchanging a dozen “goodbyes”, you finally hang up, letting out a long breath. 

You glance at the search bar on your TV, offering it a sympathetic look before you turn the screen off, resigning yourself to the fact that it’s time for bed.

Negan finishes his beer, the empty bottle clinking against the counter as his gaming system automatically switches to standby mode. He stretches, then heads towards his bedroom. 

As he pushes open his bedroom door, he chuckles to himself, imagining how chaotic things would’ve been if you were actually here with him and not just a voice down the phone— discussing party plans, laughing over gossip, probably snacking in the middle of it all. 

A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth and for a brief second, there’s something deeper in his eyes. But it’s something he doesn’t let himself dwell on. 

The thought of you here, next to him, fills him with a longing he can’t shake and yet he yearns to bury deep deep down. He sighs softly, the quiet of the room settling around him as he pushes the thought away and drifts off to sleep.

[idontplaytrack]

✧ “God, you’re crazy.”

In collaboration with: @livil589!

Janis 'Imi'ike x protective! fem reader

Warnings: MDNI, smut. Oral, fingering(Janis receiving), coarse language

 In which, a typically reserved reader lets her protective side shine and Janis secretly loves it, becoming a cute, flustered mess.

The moment you got together with Janis, the whole school found out immediately. You see, after the whole shit show with Regina’s Burn Book got resolved, and the fact that Regina got the unbelievable punishment of getting hit by a bus, Janis and Regina who once couldn’t stand being in the company of the other, started being civil to each other so much so that they were now almost friends again. But you, well…you couldn’t stand it- the way she hurt Janis. Especially the fact that Regina had been getting people to make fun of her for months before she realized…the sissy lis incident. Every time you think of it, it makes your blood boil. Janis knew it made you angry, it still made you angry and she was honestly impressed. You were the good kid– but not the teacher’s pet. The student who just existed in the environment, under the radar. Regina didn’t even know you existed till you walked into the school with Janis’ arm around your waist. That was what caused the beloved queen bee of North Shore to notice your existence.

“Hey, Janis.” Regina shut her locker and approached Janis, “Who’s this?” 

At first, you were pretty certain she meant no malice- because Janis greeted her without seeming like she wanted to punch the blonde in the face. “My girlfriend,” Janis answered simply as she went about her current task of picking out the necessary textbooks from her locker– which was surprisingly neater than your own (She makes fun of you for it sometimes, but she means no harm). The artist was a big softie and you knew it- only you knew it. Damian too, maybe, but it was never truly that obvious. 

“I know.” Regina responded in her usual tone, “But who is she? Never seen her before.”

“Now you have.” Janis shrugged. But that tone made you want to claw at her- that condescending tone. Intentional or not, it was driving you nuts and fast. 

“Strange…” You finally opened your mouth, and her eyes searched for your voice a little before her gaze lands on you, “I know who you are...and I know what you did. I’ve been in your classes since middle school and I cannot believe you.”

Your body was tense as you felt the warmth of Janis’ hands touch your shoulder, to calm you down. Regina tries to look unfazed, nonchalant…but there was a moment where you caught the shock in her eyes- they faltered. 

“You’re right Janis, now I do know who she is. Impressive, like a secret weapon, hm? She looks so…sweet and innocent, but once that cute little mouth of hers opens up, it surprises you.” Regina continues. Seriously? Your nostrils flared as Janis shot her a disgusted look, “Are you done, Regina?” Janis was slowly but surely losing her patience, being nice. “What are you trying to do here? Tormenting me wasn’t enough? You want to intimidate my girlfriend too?” At this moment, Cady has arrived at school with Aaron and Damian.

“Lighten up, Janis. It’s a compliment.” Regina chuckles, “Pity, we would’ve made a pretty hot couple. But you two are cute as shit together.”

“Well- you snooze, you lose, Regina.” You snapped, “Maybe fumbling Janis was the worst punishment for you.”

“Baby.” Janis said into your ear, “Damn, it’s all good. She’s been trying to change, really. But this is her odd way of being nice and complimenting something.”

“Don’t you think she sounds so very condescending?” You looked at Janis directly now.

“This is a hell of a change from how she used to treat anyone. Don’t take it to heart.” Janis told you, right as Regina turned on her heel and left.

“Okay, spill. What’d we miss?” Damian hurried over.

“Oh. Nothing, just y/n being protective…”

“You?” Damian asked you with wide eyes.

“Yeah,” Janis confirms, shutting her locker and zipping up her bag. 

“Damn, I did not expect this from you girl- always seems to be the other way around.”

“What’d Regina want?” Cady asks

“Uh…I think she wants my girl.” Janis told the redhead.

“Janis, I am begging you- I need context.” Damian squealed, Cady laughed. “Now I really gotta know what happened.” 

“Me too. Now I just wished we were all here to see it.

You were still tense, even after Regina had disappeared from view. Janis could tell you were upset by Regina so she took your hand, squeezing it as she walked to class with you. 

Classes dragged on, it felt like the day would never end. The interaction with the school's queen bee had stuck with you and you couldn't shake it and all you wanted to do was spend time with your girlfriend.

It was finally time for lunch, so you headed to the cafeteria to meet up with Cady and Damian since Janis had texted you saying she was gonna be late because she was finishing an art project. “Hey, are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine Cady.” “I don’t buy it.” Damian disagrees. “If you don’t wanna say anything, I’ll just ask Janis when she gets here.” You sighed, and Cady told him that maybe it wasn’t such a good idea. “Well, I’m worried, our friend looks like something’s after her.” You choked on your drink hearing that. “Mkay, who’s after you?” He pressed.

“Fine, Regina came up to me and Janis, and she was being…I dunno weird? Flirting with me, maybe?”

“Weird?”

“Well, that’s what the whole interaction felt like. First, she asked who I was, Janis told her. Then she proceeded to say that she and Janis would’ve made a hot couple, but me and Janis were really cute together?” You started to explain, “She never knew I existed until Janis and I started to date. And it’s been what, six months now almost? Janis always tries to play nice but Regina is just…something else. I finally had enough and just sorta lashed out, I said that maybe her fumbling Janis was her biggest punishment.” “Damn! And we missed that?” Damian had a hand clutching his chest, “You go girl.”

“That’s what happened? Oh, my God. Regina didn’t hurt you did she?” “No, it was more like I scared her.” You snorted, laughing, “She tried to play it cool but there was that split second of a ‘oh, shit. Okay’ in her eyes.” 

“Looks like Janis has rubbed off on you, sweetie.” Damian shrugged, satisfied.

“We don’t need another Janis.” Cady says.

“Of course, that girl’s a handful.” Damian laughs, “That’s why this girl is extra important because she mellows Janis out a little bit. Only she has successfully stopped Janis from punching the heck outta a student. Remember that?”

As Cady and Damian continued yapping, you got a text from Janis- telling you to meet her in the janitor’s closet. “I have to go.”

“Where are you going?” Cady asks, confused. 

“Uh…Janis texted?”

“Okay, spare us the details- just go.” Damian shooed you away. 

You quickly gathered yourself, rushing out of the cafeteria as Damian burst into laughter, earning a light slap on the arm from Cady. As you made your way to the janitor’s closet, a pair of pink Louboutin heels stepped in front of you, effectively making you stop in your tracks. “Where are you headed in such a hurry?” Regina practically purrs, her voice dripping with false sweetness. The blonde's tone only made you roll your eyes, doing your best to hold your tongue. 

“Piss off, Regina,” you bit out, shouldering past her as you continue on your way.

“Going to see your girlfriend?” she asks, her tone betraying her seemingly innocent words and you whirl around, furious.

“Leave Janis the fuck alone, you were awful to her and you didn’t fucking deserve her friendship,” you growled, spinning on your heel and stalking towards the closet. 

There was only so much of Regina you could handle before you ran out of patience. You hated the Plastic for what she’d put Janis through but since she was attempting to make amends (or at least made it seem that way) with your girlfriend you usually held back when it came to showing your anger, not wanting to upset the new balance of their civility towards each other. Today, however, Regina had lit a fuse in you, causing your outbursts. All you could focus on now though was what Janis called you to the janitor’s closet for, but your bubbling anger caught up, slowly taking over your arousal and making you more sober. No fucking way you would let that happen completely. As you moved, the blonde moved with you, blocking your way at every move. You bit back a scowl, and your fists clenched, feeling your frustration skyrocket.

“Aw, someone’s getting a little frustrated, hm?” Regina teased. Without a second thought, your fist slams into a locker to get the anger and frustration out a tad. “Get out of the way, Regina.” You spat. She doesn’t, but instead tilts your chin up with her finger to get you to look her in the eye. How could she be so smug? 

“Let go of my face.” You growled.

“Regina!” It was Gretchen, “What are you doing? Stop being so rude and mean to her.”

“Lucky you, sweet Gretchen saves the day.” Regina’s finger left your chin, “She’s just rushing off to see her girlfriend, no big deal.”

“But you didn’t hit her, right?” Gretchen looked at you worriedly before you scurried to your destination.

“Uh, no. Just talking…” Right, talking or threatening you for no damn reason?

Standing in front of the closet, you knocked. “Yeah?” It was Janis’ voice. Shrugging, you opened the door and stepped inside. “Hold on.” She started, “Something happened.”

“Yes, yes. Whatever.” You responded dismissively, looping your arms around her and placing your hands on her lower back. “Did Regina bother you again?” Asked Janis, backing away from your face so she could meet your gaze. “Of course she did. A leopard never changes its spots, Janis. She was born to terrorize the entire student body and staff population.”

“I swear, if she laid her hands on you, I’m gonna-”

You shook your head vigorously, “I don’t care what the fuck she does, but if she lays her hand on you, I won’t hesitate to beat her up. She made me so angry I nearly swung at her face. If it weren’t for Gretchen coming up to ask her to stop, trust me…I would’ve.”

“God, that’s so hot…” Janis chuckles lowly, her breath tickling your face as she leans closer to kiss you. Her lips meet yours and she lets out a moan - for a second there, you thought you were hearing things. That was…Janis? Already? No complaints though, hearing her like this made you happy, honestly. And as your tongue invaded her mouth, the action drew out another moan that you almost too quickly swallowed with a kiss. 

Lucky for you, she was wearing a cropped t-shirt, so you easily slid your hand under there and started fondling her breasts. “Oh, fuck.” She mutters breathlessly, “God, you’re crazy.” “Am I, now?” You bit back a smirk, unbuckling her belt together with her and finally getting to pull that down. “You haven’t seen it all yet, babe.” With her breath heavy, her eyes stayed watching you to mentally prepare herself for your next move. When your fingers looped themselves through the hem of her boyshorts, your eyes searched for her approval. Janis takes a deep breath and nods, and so you pull them down and leave them by her ankles. Your hands roamed her ass, giving them a squeeze that drove her feral, whimpering right into your ears as your hands got closer to where she needed you the most. 

“You wanna sit down or do you wanna stand?” You ask while your hands continue caressing her ass and squeezing. Janis chuckles, “I don’t care. Just- take me.” That look in her eyes…damn she really needed you, bad. Your hands trail downwards when you get down onto your knees, coming face to face with her apex. You grinned. “You’re so ready, aren’t you?” You tease, the back of your hand ghosts the mound. Janis squirms. “Tell me, baby, use your words.” You looked up. She wasn’t looking at you- or anywhere for that matter. She couldn’t go much longer without stimulation and that was her tell. When your hands squeezed her thighs, her head snapped downward and her eyes met yours. “Just tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.” You were thoroughly enjoying your rare moment of dominance over her- she was usually the one in control. But whenever you got protective over her, she got turned on and became a flustered mess. “Janis, honey…it doesn’t feel very nice, does it? The aching, hm?” Your breath was fanning against her most sensitive region now, and by the way that she was biting onto her lower lip, she wouldn’t be able to stay silent much longer. 

She shakes her head, managing to say a ‘no’. You started by pressing a kiss to her inner thigh, on one side then the other. “y/n, I need you- please.” A whine follows her request. You gently kiss her clit and a yelp falls from her mouth. And as you rubbed circles with your thumb, you trailed a finger along her entrance slowly pushing it into her. “Oh, my God.” She cursed, “Fuck.” 

“Mm-mm, no noise, baby. Not yet.”

The smirk on your face grew as you watched the girl squirm. You could feel her wetness drip onto your hand as you pumped your finger inside of her, curling it to hit her sweet spot driving Janis insane. Janis’s head fell back, her hips rolling in tandem with your movements. Her mind was emptied and filled with growing arousal as the seconds went by, biting down on her lip to keep herself from getting into trouble with you by making noise so soon. The more she squirmed under your touch, the harder it was for you to keep at your task- purely because she was already so wet, the friction just wasn’t there anymore. “Fuck, can I kiss you?” Janis asks, not garnering a response from you, “Please?” 

You removed your fingers from her completely. And a whine fully just escapes from her lips, “Please, y/n. I need you, please.” God, her begging sounded like music to your ears. You gave in, starting to kiss her again, every noise she made swallowed by the movement of both your lips. Next, your hand returns to its previous position, plunging back inside her. She whimpers shakily, knees feeling like they might buckle. You kept a hand on her hip as your fingers carried on with their tasks. She’s made it so easy for you to go in and out that you didn’t even have to think about doing anything else to push her over the edge. 

“You sure you want people to hear you, babe?” You caressed her cheek, looking right into her eyes. Janis swallowed thickly feeling the ache in between her legs worsen rapidly, she shook her head. 

“Then what do you want, baby? Tell me.” 

Her eyes started to avoid yours, but you held her chin and made her keep eye contact. Janis huffs frustratedly, licking her lips. “You gotta tell me, babe. Hm?”

“I need to come and I don’t care how you do it, just make me come.” Her usual attitude showed up briefly. You shot her a bewildered look in reply, shrugging then sucking your fingers clean as she watched painfully. “You know not to get like that with me, Janis.” You say, your hand massaging her thigh while you lower yourself to come face to face with the area where she needs you the most. You were on your knees, hands gripping onto her thighs as your eyes flicked upward to look at Janis. 

“So you’re okay if I use my mouth?”

“What?” Janis exhales harshly, “Of course, I’m okay with that, baby. I fucking love it when you do. Holy shit, please.” 

You trailed open-mouthed kisses along the inside of her thighs, smirking when she squirmed. Her hips bucked into the air when you got closer and closer to her heat. You were thoroughly enjoying her being so submissive- you wanted to make it harder for her, just for the heck of it. You pulled away from her thighs, staring into her eyes while you were face to face with the area where she needed you the most. She looked at you in sheer disbelief and scoffed, practically grabbing you by your head and putting you on back onto her- only this time, your mouth was met with her dripping cunt. You laughed, “So impatient.” You licked upwards, circling her clit with your tongue then pressing the flat of your tongue against it, “But ask and you shall receive, honey. We don’t have a whole lot of time right now.” 

Her noises…they became so very frustrated, sounding like she was about to throw a full-blown tantrum if you denied her release any longer. But also, very needy and so high-pitched that it began to reflexively make you sound the same. “Baby, please- please y/n. Make me come. Now.” She asks.

You grinned, “Okay. You got it.” Speedily, you carry on lapping up her juices while your fingers fucked her rhythmically all while it begins to tighten around you. Janis gasps, tangling her hands in your hair for support as well as the wall behind her. You hoisted her legs up over your shoulders for more friction to aid her incoming climax. “Oh, God…” She panted, breathing ragged, “Fuck, y/n. Fuck, fuck, fuck!~” 

She came undone into your mouth, soaking your fingers with herself. “Felt good, didn’t it, baby?”

“So fucking good.” Janis nodded with the biggest grin on her face, “Do that to me more often from now on. It’s so damn hot when you get all protective.” 

You guffawed, wiping your mouth and chin off, “Oh, I will, Jan. Trust me. This is just the beginning. But you’re gonna have to wait till after school because we gotta go.” 

“That’s fine.” She bit her lower lip, “I’m gonna need some time to recover from this anyway.” Janis pulls you in, pressing a passionate kiss to your lips, “Thank you, baby. You’re amazing.”

Caressing her cheek, you replied, “Aw, thank you- I try.” 

[misdeliria]

GREEK TRAGEDY; SATORU GOJO tw: alcoholism & depression ->SEE YOU AGAIN (pt1)

It's been two days since Satoru left Yuji at your apartment—two long, excruciating days with a teenager invading your space.

With nothing on your agenda, you stayed home and drank, much to Yuji's dismay.

"Isn't there anything else we can do?" He asked, bored after another rerun rolled its credits.

"Feel free to take a walk," you answer, rising to your feet to grab yourself another drink.

"Sensei Gojo told me about you. You went to Jujutsu Tech, too?"

"It's interview hour now?" You cleared an entire shelf and the left cubby to make room for Yuji's food and drinks—everything else was dedicated to your stash of beer. "Do you want something to drink?"

"You mean the juice boxes you got me?" Yuji pouts, and you catch his side-eye.

Rolling your eyes, you release a tired sigh. "Satoru used to like these juice boxes. You're so much like him; I assumed you would, too."

"You think I'm like Sensei Gojo?" Yuji's eyes gleam as you mention his mentor. "What was he like when you went to school?"

You bark a laugh, taking a swig from your fresh bottle. "Arrogant. Satoru was an arrogant little- thing."

"He was as strong back then as he is now?" Yuji's eyes practically glowed.

Eyeing the kid's wide-eyed expression, you bite your tongue before you can bash his teacher.

You take another sip and tell him, "He wasn't as strong back then. Didn't even have his infinity yet, but he could really land a hit."

"What's an infinity?"

"It's one of his main techniques nowadays," you say waving your hand. "He makes a barrier over his body; makes it impossible to touch him. You could wrap your hand around his wrist, and he'd still slip right through your fingers."

"How does his technique work?"

"I don't know," you huff, falling onto the couch again as the next rerun starts. You chug a quarter of your drink to wash away the growing irritation. "You'll have to ask him yourself."

Yuji, cross-legged on the rug, looks up at you expectantly.

"Well, what's your technique?"

Your brow twitches and you grip the arm the couch.

"I don't use it anymore. I quit Jujutsu."

"I'd still like to know," Yuji presses sweetly. "Sensei Gojo says that yo-"

"Hey, kid," you cut him off firmly, sending him a dark look from your elevated seat. "Don't push it."

Thankfully, Yuji isn't disheartened, but he pouts petulantly—and it's almost a mirror image of your former blue-eyed classmate.

A few minutes roll by without conversation, with the noise from the tv filling the silence. And then, a knock at the door.

Perfect timing, you roll your eyes. "It's open!"

"No, it's not," Satoru's amused chirp echoes from the foyer.

"Thanks for knocking," you grumble, sinking into your seat as you clutch your drinker tighter.

Yuji was on his feet the moment Satoru stepped into the room, but you couldn't be bothered, trying to focus on your show. The Gojo sorcerer wisely prepared with his sunglasses and dressed in his casual clothes.

"I come bearing gifts." Satoru cheers with Yuji as the kid jumps on him, reaching for one of the few bags hanging from Satoru's limbs.

As they roughhouse in your living space, you suppress the urge to blast the tv speakers to drown them out. You're not drunk enough for this.

After a certain point of being ignored, Satoru approaches you. He crouches low on the floor, within your line of sight to the tv without directly blocked the screen.

Tilting his head to the side like a dog, he smiles softly—sincerely.

Pointedly avoiding him, you decide then to turn the tv up louder.

Calling your name over the noise, Satoru's expression turns serious. A staring contest takes place for roughly a minute before you break.

"I'm only pausing because I need another drink, damn it."

Satoru follows you into the kitchen and all around your apartment, wherever you turn to avoid him. Yuji watches, entertained from his new front seat on the couch.

"Did you just swing by to get on my nerves? Your student is waiting for you," you remind him, drastically losing patience.

"I wanted to talk to you about that. I've gotta take Yuji out. Let him get some training in."

"Do whatever you want," you tell him over your shoulder, refusing to look at him when he's dressed so casually—so familiar. "You're paying for it all, I'm just living here."

"Why don't you step out and join us?"

"I don't want to," I sigh, spinning on my heel and returning to the couch, dropping into the cushion beside Yuji. "I've got my drink. I've got my show. I'll be good until you wanna drop the kid back off."

"Well, I grabbed some snacks from that store you used to like, so," Satoru trails off as he struggles to find words. "Yuji, let's get some practice in."

Yuji jumps to his feet with excitement. Satoru wraps an arm over the kid's shoulder and looks at you one last time.

"We won't be back too late," he assures you, but you unpause your show and take a heavy pull from your drink.

The next moment, they're gone, and your show turns into white noise. The bright blue paper bag Satoru left on your counter taunts you with the memories tied to it.

—

"So, what's wrong with her?" Yuji asks softly later in the night. He thinks of how Satoru's expression tightens whenever he's around you or the octave of his voice changes to something heavyhearted.

"She's just tired," Satoru answers, adjusting his blindfold. He'll have to switch it out when he returns Yuji to you. "She's lost a lot because of curses. It's why we need to work hard to eliminate them."

"Is that why she doesn't fight curses anymore?" Yuji understands this topic is sensitive after treading carefully around you for the past few days and sensing the tender manner in which Satoru treats you. "Who did she lose?"

Satoru keeps quiet, schooling his face to keep his answers to himself.

"She was strong when we were in school. Not as strong as me, but she could hold her own," he reminisces fondly, quirking the corners of his lips. "In this world, death is an old friend. You get too comfortable with it and lose yourself a little more every time. It was better that she left before it was too late."

"Is that what it's like for you?" Yuji looked up at his teacher. "Is that why she's mad at you? Because you stayed?"

Satoru roughly ruffled Yuji's hair to silence him. "What's with the first degree?" He laughs playfully. "I hope you're not bothering her so much with questions like these."

"She doesn't get as upset when you're not there," Yuji tells him with downcasted eyes. "She's like a ghost. I think she forgets I'm there sometimes."

"She's drinking the whole time?"

Yuji shrugs, looking away ashamed. "Yeah, but it's not like she's trying to ignore me. It looks like she's miles away in her head."

Satoru sighs through his nose. "Either way, she shouldn't drink so much while watching you."

"Don't be upset with her," Yuji quietly requests. "She didn't ask for me to be there."

When the two boys return to your abode, the TV is off, and you're seated at the cheap dining table. Satoru's blue bag sits untouched in front of you. It's silent and still and suffocating.

"Yuji, take the room tonight," you say with your back facing them. "Go. Now."

Yuji looks at Satoru first, and when his teacher encourages him with a nod, the pink-haired boy reluctantly retreats.

Around him, Satoru can see through your cursed energy. It envelopes the room like a domain, creating a convincing illusion for Yuji but not for his Six Eyes.

The living space appears clean and well-kept, but you've torn up the kitchen and living room like a wild animal. You flipped the couch over in your rampage, and there's broken ceramic all over the floor. Remarkably, Yuji avoided stepping on any of it on his way to the bedroom. You ripped Satoru's piece offering apart at the center of it all, and the food is smashed and sprinkled everywhere.

"You put quite an effort into hiding your tantrum," Satoru breaks the veil of silence that's fallen over. He knows Yuji is pressed against the closed door, trying to hear as much as possible.

"Nothing has changed," you seethe quietly, shoulders trembling. "You're going to get the kid fucking killed." Satoru can hear the lodge in your throat as he remains behind you.

"His name is Yuji," Satoru insists. "He's here for his protection."

"He's here so you can train him like a soldier without the fucking higher-ups interfering," you say bitterly. "You're punishing me for leaving."

"That's not what I'm doing," Satoru promises, his shoulders growing heavy. "He has to learn how to protect himself."

"He isn't you, Satoru. He's going to die."

"You didn't."

You're quiet for a moment, mulling over his rebuttal. "I might as well have."

You withdraw your illusion, and the terror you caused in your home reveals itself. Empty bottles litter the floor next to broken ceramic. Your hair is unkempt, and your clothes are dirty.

"You don't mean that. You're drunk."

You laugh, but it's empty, devoid of humor. Rising from your seat, you pick up the chair from the top and swing it at Satoru. It smashes to splinters an inch away from his arm. He doesn't even flinch.

"You bring back these fucking memories," you croak, swinging again. It doesn't land. "You bring a kid here for me to protect." Another swing. "You're a fucking asshole!" You keep swinging until there's nothing left of the chair.

You hear your name called quietly, but it's not Satoru. Yuji stands in the opening with wide eyes, taking in the destruction. You're panting, and Satoru is standing untouched.

When you're distracted by Yuji, Satoru slides his hand up to your neck, hating the way you flinch before tears finally run down your face. You easily allow him to render you unconscious, and the Gojo descendant catches your limp body.

Yuji says nothing when Satoru takes you to your room and lays you on the bed.

"It's because of me, isn't it?" The young boy whispers like he might wake you up.

Satoru slowly takes off his glasses and gently sets them aside. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he carefully takes your hand, staring at your serene expression in torment.

He finally says, "She begged me to leave with her—the higher-ups excommunicated our friend, and she wanted to go after him. I wouldn't let her."

"Is…is your friend-" Yuji knew the answer, but Satoru's curt nod shed light on your tragedy.

"She is trying to ignore you, Yuji. You can't let her."

The drinking and the mess outside flash through Yuji's mind. No matter how much you drank in front of him, you were always coherent in your conversations, hinting at frustration but nonetheless reciprocal.

Yuji's brows pull together in sadness. "What if she doesn't want to, sir?"

The weak smile that grows across Satoru's lips, gleaming blue eyes blessing you, is wrought with pain.

"I'm a selfish man, Yuji…and I won't let this world keep taking from me."

—

"We could leave. Please, Satoru, let's go." You're begging him, pulling at his sleeves. "We could find Suguru and help him. He needs us."

He's gone, Satoru thinks. Suguru left you, disregarding your feelings.

"You're acting insane," he says bitterly, wanting nothing more but to cave in. "We can't just leave Japan without sorcerers."

"We can, though," you argue, tears welling as you stare at Satoru desperately. "We could take Megumi and Tsumiki with us. We could save them from this life, Satoru."

"And everyone else? People will keep dying."

"You're willing to risk Megumi's life for a stranger? My life?"

"None of you are going to die," Satoru says plainly like it's divine intervention.

"Haibara is already dead! Do I need to remind you?" You hiss, confused and heartbroken. "Please, Satoru."

He thought he could hear your heart breaking back then. When he rejected you, he walked away, leaving his heart with you.

And in your dedication to Satoru, you stayed despite your longing. You stayed for years, quiet and suffering, knowing how Satoru couldn't choose you.

When Suguru died, you still couldn't keep yourself away—because you loved the strongest sorcerer that killed him. And as much as Satoru loved you in return, he wouldn't change. Not even for you.

[tessenpai]

Kono Oto Tomare! Chapter 131 Scans and Rough TL

Disclaimer: Please DO NOT use this translation to make your own TL of the chapter!! The KOT TL group works very hard to give you the most accurate translation, that does as much justice to the original script as possible. This is a ROUGH translation. That means is faulty and there must be mistakes in certain places. This is just for impatient people like myself to get a grasp on what is going on in the chapter! You can REFERENCE my TL if you want to discuss the chapter but never USE it as it was your own.

Scans: https://klz9.com/jxsh-kono-oto-tomare-raw-chapter-131.html

Page 1

Side text: Ichiei's performance, begins with silence

Chapter Title: #131 My Story

Page 2

*No Text*

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*No text*

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*No text*

Page 6

Hiro & Takezou [thoughts]: ----...Ah

Satowa[thoughts]: This...

Page 7

Collective thought: Damn

Page 8

Kifune-sensei: Miran-chan!

Miran: !

Miran: Kifune-sensei!

Kifune-sensei: Welcome to Ichiei. Is your luggage in the dorm already?

Miran: Yes

Kifune-sensei: Then let me show you around the school.

Miran: Thank you very much.

Kifune: The entry exams were difficult, weren't they? You did a great job.

[Memory starts]

Miran: Eh? Ichiei High School?

Kifune-sensei: Yeah. If you'd like, why don't you give it a chance? To the Japanese Music Department, I mean.

Miran: Ichiei, he said... Even I know about it... It's a music school.

Miran's mom: Ahh, but...

Page 9

Miran's mom: In the Japanese Music Department, all the children play koto, isn't that right? And they are all extremely good at it, aren't they..?

Kifune-sensei: Not only the koto. How to put it-

Kifune-sensei: The most proficient children from all over the country converge there.

Miran's mom: And you believe that Miran...

Kifune-sensei: --And so.

Kifune-sensei: I believe that Miran's abilities are now on par to that level.

Page 10

Kifune-sensei: Miran-chan has avoided playing in ensembles and listening to kids her own age play until now, hasn't she?

Kifune-sensei: Of course, it's not like that is a bad thing.

Kifune-sensei: --However.

Kifune-sensei: Here's a path that I believe will expand your world, is what I'm trying to say.

Kifune-sensei: And I'd like to guide you through it while I'm at it.

Miran [thoughts]: The path that Sensei has thought so hard about, for my sake...

Miran [thoughts]: It's scary, but...

Miran [thoughts]: If it's the current me, then----...!!

Miran: I... Mom...!

Miran's mom: !

Page 11

Miran's mom: ...

Miran's mom: ---Yes. You can go if you want, Miran.

Kifune-sensei: Fu. I'm glad.

Kifune-sensei: Ah, but the fact that you are my particular student makes it that I can't give you any special treatment. From now on you will have to study very hard!

Miran: Yes!

[Memory ends]

Kifune-sensei: From here on, there are the practice rooms.

Kifune-sensei: If you ask for permission, you can use them whenever you want.

Page 12

Miran [thoughts]: Amazing... I get to play koto in such a wonderful place.

Miran [thoughts]: This is the place where I belonged all along.

Page 13

Miran[thoughts]: Eh...?

Kifune-sensei: Oh my, this sound...

Miran [thoughts]: Wo- woaah.

Miran [thoughts]: Incredible. What a beautiful sound...

Miran [thoughts]: The clarity and sound are by far the best I've ever heard.

Miran [thoughts]: Is it a teacher? A Senpai? Could I get to produce this kind of sound myself?

Kifune-sensei: Aah, as I thought.

Page 14

*No text*

Page 15

*No text*

Page 16

Luka: Kifune-sensei!

Kifune-sensei: Luka-kun, you've gotten to use the practice room right away, I see. And well? How do you like it?

Luka: I love it!

Miran [thoughts]: Wha-

Miran[thoughts]: What is this guy...? An angel...? No, maybe a prince...?

Kifune-sensei: Ah, Miran-chan. This is Luka Chevalier-kun.

Kifune-sensei: He is a scholarship student from France.

Kifune-sensei: Like you, he is also a new student and a first year in the Japanese Music Department.

Page 17

Miran [thoughts]: Scholarship... First-year...?

Luka: Nice to meet you! I'm Luka Chevalier. Umm... And you are---

Miran: Eh- ah... I'm... Sa- Saotome Miran.

Luka: Miran! That's such a beautiful name.

Miki [memory]: Miran!

Miran: ...Your- your Japanese is really good...

Miran [thoughts]: What am I even saying..?

Luka: Really!? Thank you!

Luka: The sound of Japanese is so beautiful, that after listening to it every day I was able to speak it.

Page 18

Miran: ...

Miran: ...That's amazing...

Miran [thoughts]: ...this is

Miran [thoughts]: Someone the same age as me...?

Imari: Hanahata Imari. I placed 2nd in the Koto National Contest in the Middle School category.

Tougo: Takamura Tougo. I won that same contest and came in 2nd the next year.

Kio: Houshou Kio. I am the seventh generation of the Akane Association Yamada Style Koto School. *

*If Satowa comes from the Hozuki Clan, Kio comes from the Akane Association. These families own Koto Schools.

Luka: I'm Luka Chevalier! When I was 10 I went on a trip to Japan. I met with the Koto for the first time, and fell in love with it!

Miran [thoughts]: When he was 10... same as me...

Luka: I am very happy I get to learn the koto in Japan!

Page 19

Imari: Didn't you win the Grand Prize at the International Music Competition last year?

Luka: You know about that? I'm so happy! Thank you!

Miran [thoughts]: International... Music Competition...

Miran [thoughts]: Grand Prize...

Luka: Is Miran's turn next.

Miran: Eh? Ah-

Miran: I- I'm Saotome Miran.

Miran: ...

Miran: ...

Miran [thoughts]: --Ah... What do I do?

Miran [thoughts]: I've done nothing.

Page 20

Kio: Could it be that Kifune-sensei's apprentice that I've been hearing about... Is it you?

Miran: Eh- ah- Yes.

Kio: Haha So you got in through connections.

Miran[thoughts]: ---Eh...? Wha...

Kifune-sensei: Before there are any misunderstandings, let me make something clear.

Kifune-sensei: Miran-kun is indeed my apprentice but she went through the entrance exams and passed them accordingly.

Kifune-sensei: And just because she is my apprentice doesn't mean she will be receiving any special treatment.

Page 21

Kio: I know that. I was just joking, I'm sorry.

Miran [sfx]: Ba-dump...

Luka: Kifune-sensei rarely takes apprentices. That's incredible, Miran!

Luka: I'm very much looking forward to hearing your sound!!

Miran: Kuh...

Miran [thoughts]: ---...What is this

Miran[thoughts]: What

Page 22

Miran [thoughts]: This place is not different from where I was before---

Kifune-sensei: Miran-kun!

Kifune-sensei: Are you alright?

Miran[sfx]: ba-dump ba-dump

Miran[thoughts]: I- I'm fine, sorry.

Miran: That's right. I'm ok.

Miran[thoughts]: I'm ok.

Miran[thoughts]: Sensei recognized my ability. The school recognized it. I'm ok.

Miran[thoughts]: I didn't get in through connections. I'll prove it to them.

Page 23

Miran[thoughts]: Woah, everyone is so good.

Miran[thoughts]: That should be obvious. Only people of the highest level play here.

Miran[thoughts]: Ensembles are difficult. I feel like I'm always one step behind.

Miran[thoughts]: I have to practice more. More. More.

Kifune-sensei: The solo part will be played by Luka-kun.

Luka: Yes!

Miran[thoughts]: Once again, I got the easiest part...

Miran[thoughts]: It's as if

Page 24

Miran[thoughts]: It's as if this is what it would be like if big sis had encountered the koto instead of me

Miran[thoughts]: Stop. Don't think that.

Miran[thoughts]: It's ok. I just have to prove it. I just have to practice more than anyone else and become the best.

Miran[thoughts]: I definitely won't lose. For sure. Without a doubt.

Miran[thoughts]: He is the solo once again. Damn it. Next time, then.

Miran[thoughts]: I lost again. Next time. Next time. Next time.

Miran[thoughts]: I did it! Finally, I won the solo part.

Miran[thoughts]: He's got a cool face, and he doesn't even look like he's frustrated at all.

Miran[thoughts]: Is like he doesn't notice me at all.

Miran[thoughts]: And still, he plays brightly during the performance.

Miran[thoughts]: He wants to overtake the leading role. Don't make fun of me.

Luka: I can't believe it!! The real one!! My Goddess!! Satowa!!

Page 25

Miran[thoughts]: And then the person he admires showed up.

Miran[thoughts]: And that person who has the Prince's admiration seems to be someone who is preciously protected.

Miran: Again

Miran[thoughts]: A woman who seems to be blessed with everything

Miran[thoughts]: Why?

Miran[thoughts]: Why do you get to have everything?

Page 26

Miran[thoughts]: Why did it have to be the koto?

Miran[thoughts]: There are so many other paths.

Miran[thoughts]: And yet

Kifune-sensei[memory]: The solo part won't be played by Miran-kun, but by Luka-kun.

Miran[thoughts]: For me, there's only the koto.

Miran: That's right... For me, there's nothing but the koto...

Page 27

Miran[thoughts]: I have to get it back.

Kio: Is Miran-san still shutted-in?

Tougo: It has been a week already.

Kio: Isn't this really bad? If things continue like this, she won't be able to participat-

Luka: !!

Kio(?): Miran-san!

Luka: Phew... Miran...!

Page 28

Luka: I'm so glad you came back! Everyone was worried about you---

Imari: Hey, hold on.

Imari: That's the tuning for the solo part. You are playing the 3rd koto part...

Miran: I will play the solo.

Imari: ---What...?

Miran: I've come up with a new way to play it. Even Kifune-sensei will approve when he--

Imari: Are you messing with me? Just for how long are you not going to look around you?

Imari: They take the solo away from you one time, and you start cursing and throwing insults at Luka.

Miran: Shut up!! It's not only "one time"---

Imari: I haven't gotten to play a solo. Not even once!!

Page 29

Imari: And it's not only me, it's the same for Tougo and Kio!

Imari: You didn't even realize that, did you? You are always thinking "If I compare myself to Luka", so you aren't even interested in the rest of us, huh!?

Imari: The three of us have been playing the koto from as far as we can remember. Playing every single day, participating in tournaments and earning achievements.

Imari: And yet, you and Luka, who started playing later, get to play the solo parts?

Imari: Do you think we don't care about that!? Just what did you take us for!!??

Page 30

Imari: It's so freaking frustrating, isn't that obvious!!

Imari: On top of that, you just treat us like we are just some background characters and don't care about us at all! And still!

Page 31

Imari: And still, an ensemble is not only one person!

Imari: You and Luka are good. It frustrates me, but I get it. We are trying to do our best with the parts given to us!!

Imari: Luka was assigned the solo part in your place. Did you think I was just going to be happy for him like a moron?

Imari: As if!!

Imari: Everyone has their own thoughts and feelings about all of this!

Imari: You are not the only one suffering and in distress!!

Imari: Did that not even occur to you!?

Page 32

Imari[sfx]: Pant pant

Imari: Ugh...

Miran: Ah...

Luka: Imari.

Kio: Imari-san...

Miran: Um... I...

Imari: ...What you are missing

Imari: Is not skill, is not talent, and is not practice!

Page 33

Imari: It's imagination!

Side text: The weight of those important words.... resounds within Miran.

---Kono Oto Tomare! will continue in the next issue---

[fanfictionstuff]

Amaimon x Student 13

Smut towards the end. Did I do it right, Anon? 😅 Is it detailed enough? For real, tell me, please. 🙏

“You killed him?” You pace your living room as Amaimon lounges casually on the sofa, eating chips. “Yes,” he replies, his eyes following your movements. “Why? Are you planning to kill them all?” Amaimon shakes his head. “No, I didn’t kill the other two. They agreed to stay away from you.”

“Huh?” You pause, turning to face him. “You spoke to them?” He nods, continuing to eat his snack. “Yes, and they agreed to stay away from you; the third one didn’t.” He must’ve realized the three I had to the side were the ones I was slightly interested in. “So, you didn’t kill the first two because they agreed, but you killed the third one for not listening to you?”

“I killed the third one because he said he was going to fuck my whore.”

“What?”

Amaimon shrugs. “He said that I’ll have to watch as he fucks you stupid, and you’ll bear his children. Among other things- so I killed him.”

Your eyes widen in disbelief and disgust. “Other things?”

Amaimon nods. “Yes. It doesn’t matter; you’re my pet. If you are going to have children, they will be mine.” 

————————————————————————————————

Everyone stares at you, speechless, as you share the situation, minus the fact Amaimon killed someone. “Wait, wait, back up.” Bon raises his hands. “There are so many things we need to tackle here; let’s start with the fact you are supposed to get married and have kids by a certain point.” You nod, “Yes, my grandparents want me married and at least pregnant by the time I’m twenty.” 

Rin’s brow furrows at this new information. “Why? They only want you to marry someone they choose? Why don’t they want you to be happy and find someone yourself?” Shima nods eagerly. “Yeah! I would happily volunteer.”

“No thanks. For strong bloodlines.” 

Konekomaru stares at you confused, “Uh, _____, I doubt they’ll accept Amaimon.” 

“So? I don’t care. Did you not hear me? Amaimon said he wants to have kids with me.” 

Bon sighs. “_____, you said he said they will be his if you have any children. That doesn’t mean he wants to have kids with you. He doesn’t really like you; he’s just possessive of you for some strange reason.” 

“I don’t care; I like him a lot. It really doesn’t matter whether or not he likes me back.” You grin brightly. “Don’t you get it? That means long-term. I was expecting I’d only get to be with him a short time, and at the end of the day, I’d have to marry one of the men my family chose for me. But Amaimon wants long-term. I don’t give a damn if he’s using me. He can use me however he wants. The point is, I have another option.” 

Konekomaru cuts in when Bon is about to argue. “There’s something more important than _____ and Amaimon’s weird relationship right now. Are you really going to be forced into a marriage?” He questions. 

“No, because I will be with Amaimon.” 

Everyone groans. Konekomaru tries again, “Let’s assume Amaimon isn’t involved. Would you be expected to marry someone chosen by your family?" 

Izumo speaks up. “I don’t understand why you all seem shocked; it’s actually quite common among families like ______’s. They prefer to maintain connections within the exorcist community and expect their children to marry powerful exorcists and have strong offspring. Honestly, I’m more surprised that we hadn’t known before." 

They all turn to look at you. “I mean, you didn’t ask.” You shrug like it’s no big deal. “But yes, I would be expected to marry someone they choose. It’s still expected of me now.” You grin. “I was actually thinking about finally accepting it and giving my mom a few names to look into, but then Amaimon said if I am going to have any kids, they’ll be his. So, obviously, that means long-term, right?” 

Bon shakes his head. “Wrong.”

Rin stands, pointing at you dramatically, “Damn it _____, you can’t marry some random guy just because your family wants you to, and you can’t marry Amaimon.” You open your mouth to argue, but Rin continues. “Let’s pretend for a minute that Amaimon actually gives a damn about you. He can’t marry you. He has no citizenship.” Rin speaks boldly. The other boys shake their heads at his stupid comment while Izumo rolls her eyes; poor Shiemi just seems lost. 

You raise a brow. “Uh, am I supposed to care? I don’t need a legal document.” 

When the final bell rings, you leave the classroom and quickly find your friends standing around outside the school. “So, what are we doing for the winter break?” You question everyone wrapping while wrapping an arm around your best friend. Shiemi smiles. “I’ll just be staying here; what about you? Will you be visiting your parents?” 

Shima gives you a curious look. “Where are your parents right now? Don’t they move often?” You sigh and nod. "Yeah, honestly, I don’t know. They’re traveling around Europe. I could probably go if I asked them, but I really don’t want to. I'd rather spend my time here. With… perfection." You laugh at the expressions on their faces. “I’m just kidding. I was planning to stay here even before Amaimon arrived.”

“Speak of the devil.” Bon frowns at the person on the other end of the pathway. 

Rin furrows his brow in confusion as Amaimon approaches the group. Hadn’t Mephisto spoken to him yet? Rin had assumed that Amaimon had mentioned the whole "having his children" thing to you before Mephisto had the chance to talk to him. Surely, by now, Mephisto would have addressed it after seeing the photo Rin showed him. 

The Demon King glares at Rin as he approaches, leading Rin to wonder if perhaps Mephisto has spoken to him. Rin’s eyes widen as a thought strikes him: Is he about to break up with _____? Is he going to shatter her heart in front of me for revenge? These thoughts quickly vanish, though, as Amaimon draws near and wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a passionate kiss. The group stares in a mix of disbelief and disgust as Amaimon kisses you with the intensity of a starved animal. Izumo instinctively raises her hand to cover Shiemi’s eyes. When he finally pulls away, you’re just as shocked as the rest of them.

“Uh, hi,” you mumble, uncertain of what to say. The taste of the watermelon candy he had been eating lingers on your lips. “That was unexpected.” You speak, more so to yourself. “Nice to see you too.” 

“Let’s go.” 

“Go where?”

“Your apartment.”

“Oh, okay. Bye, guys.” 

Shima glances around at everyone’s look of disbelief. “Uh, what just happened- Rin, where are you going?” He grabs for the back of Rin’s uniform, and when the half-demon turns around, the fury is evident. “I need to speak to someone.” He growls, pulling away from Shima. “That stupid clown was supposed to speak to him.” He hisses to himself as he makes his way to Mephisto’s office. 

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

“Why are you so eager?” Amaimon asks flatly. “Eager?” you question, staring up at him in confusion. He nods, giving you a brief glance before returning his focus to the TV. You just got home from school, lying on the sofa with him, nestled against his chest. Both of you are still wearing your school uniforms. He takes your hand, which is resting on his thigh, and presses it against his cock. “If you want it, go ahead. But I’m not doing it for you.” Slowly, you sit up and glance down at him, confused. He continues toneless. “If you want it, undo my pants. Why should I put in the effort when it is you that wants my cock down your throat.” 

You blush at his blunt statement and quickly look away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You try to play it off, but he knows better. Without hesitation, he slips your hand down the front of his pants. “You don’t want this in your mouth?” He questions you, already knowing the answer. He then pulls your hand from your pants. “If you want it, undo my pants yourself, and you can suck it all you want, pet.”

You blush furiously, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks. You look back at him, a mix of embarrassment and curiosity in your eyes. "Amaimon," you say slowly, still trying to wrap your head around what he’s saying.

"Just do it, pet," he bluntly.

You take a deep breath, feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement coursing through your veins. You reach down and begin to unbutton Amaimon's pants. Your heart is pounding in your chest as you slowly pull them down, along with his boxers, revealing his member.

You find yourself staring at it, unable to pull your gaze away despite your embarrassment. Amaimon watches you with a calm expression, patiently waiting for you to make your next move. After a moment of hesitation, you reach out and touch him, your fingers gliding over his length. 

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you lick your lips tentatively before pressing them against the tip of his penis. After savoring the taste for a moment, you take him deeper into your mouth. Your lips wrap around the head, feeling the warmth spread across your tongue as he begins to grow harder in your mouth. 

You suck gently at first, feeling his cock twitch in your hand and against your lips. Amaimon's body tenses slightly, but he says nothing, allowing you to continue at your own pace. You gradually increase the intensity, sucking harder and stroking faster as he grows in your mouth. 

As you become more confident, you start to explore him more thoroughly, licking and kissing his shaft before taking him deeper into your throat. You can feel him hitting the back of your throat, making you gag slightly, but you don't let up. Your tongue flickers out and traces patterns along his length, savoring every inch of him. 

Amaimon's fingers grip the sofa's armrests tightly, his claws embedding into the fabric as he struggles to maintain his composure. He watches you with narrowed eyes, absorbing the sight of you as you work his cock. 

"Good pet," he growls, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine. "Keep going." 

Egged on by his words, you increase your pace even more, sucking harder and faster. Your hand strokes him in time with your mouth. The taste of him, slightly salty with a mix of herbs, fills your senses.

Amaimon's body tenses further in response to your efforts, his hips bucking slightly against the sofa. His fingers dig into the armrests, knuckles white with the effort of holding back. You can feel his cock throbbing in your mouth, the head swollen and ready to explode. 

"That's it, pet," he says again, his voice strained now, "Show me how much you want me." His hand grips your hair, pushing you further on his cock. “Swallow.” He demands as he releases down your throat. 

Your eyes widen as you feel the warm liquid fill your throat. You swallow reflexively as he fills you up. Amaimon watches with a satisfied smirk, his hand never leaving your hair.

Slowly, you pull away from him, occasionally swallowing as he finishes. His erection deflates, and you raise your eyes to meet his. You see the satisfaction in his gaze, filling you with an odd sense of fulfillment. He stares at you as he tucks himself back in his pants. 

Shyly, you make eye contact with him. “I thought you said I can suck it all I want.” 

Amaimon raises a brow and tugs his pants back down. “Help yourself.” 

[sunlightmurdock]

Please start the thots early!

I need one for Firefighter Bradley because we had ! student pull the fire alarm today at school. (At least we got to see some hunky firefighters today)

So my thot for that, Firefighter Bradley responding to a fire call at his girl's place of work and him being absolutely beside himself because he doesn't know where she's at or if she's. Turns into him fucking her slowly that night when they are both home because he needs to ground himself and be in the moment with her.

Omggg this had me giggling and kicking my feet because she had warned him that today was going to be busy, she probably wouldn’t be able to respond to texts much, but when he’s on his way to the call and she’s still not answering him? — His heart’s thundering in his chest and you’re right, he’s just beside himself.

Even more so when it turns out that it’s not a drill, that there is a fire. Albeit a minor one, when he’s asking your boss if anyone has seen you and he’s met with a confused face, he’s struggling to keep his composure.

They’re taught not to bring emotions into their work, it makes things all the more dangerous, and he does his best to keep his head clear. It’s barely a fire worth responding to, something that could’ve been contained with the fire extinguisher in the chemistry class, but they’re there anyway.

He’s just about ready to start tearing his head out when he still hasn’t heard from you once they’re giving the all clear in the building. He’s certain that there’s something they must have missed.

But then he catches a glimpse of you just as he’s walking out to the fire point to tell everyone they can head back inside. Already, when he’s headed towards you with long strides and the colour faded from his cheeks, you try to tell him no — not at work. You gasp, eyes going wide as he throws his arms around you and lifts, damn near cutting off your airflow from his grip around your middle.

“Bradley, no, no, no — put me down — no,” You whisper to him, trying to tug your dress down to keep it at an appropriate length as he presses his face to the side of your neck and exhales in relief. “I’m fine. Put me down.”

He sets you back on your feet and you can feel everyone’s eyes burning into you. As much as you might enjoy the envious looks from your colleagues, you know that this’ll stir up some interesting questions from your students.

Bradley’s still invading your space, standing too close and looking down at you with his brows knitted together. “You scared me. You weren’t answering your phone.”

“I left it in my classroom, I’m sorry.” You swallow, taking a step back and patting, almost platonically at his chest.

He steps forwards and kisses you anyway. Cupping your face in his hands, it’s chaste enough to happen in front of the kids. He pulls back and strokes his thumbs over your cheeks, then finally lets you go and steps back.

“Panic over!” He calls out to the staff and students, leaving you there, burning with something that isn’t quite embarrassment but leaves you feeling hot anyway. “You can head back inside now!”

“Is that your boyfriend?” One of your kids whispers excitedly.

Bradley looks between them and you, smiling as he leaves you to answer that one all by yourself. Later that night, you smack at his bare chest as he kneels over you,

“Do you know how many questions I had to answer today because of you?”

He nods his head and strokes his thumbs over your cheeks, soft but in no way sorry. “I just needed to hold you,” He murmurs, taking one hand away from your face to guide your thigh around his waist. He swallows softly, brows knitting together like he’s trying to focus. “Don’t know what I would’ve done if—“

You frown at him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling him against you. He inhales slowly, making the most of you being here, safe, in his arms. You kiss the side of his neck softly. “Don’t talk like that, I’m just fine. I’m right here.”

There was a bad incident on the job last week, he has only managed to talk to you about it once and you know that it had shaken him a little. He hadn’t ever been phased by these kind of things until he had someone to lose.

“You had me so worried,” He mumbles, curling his fists into your sweatshirt and tugging you closer to him. “Gonna make me think twice about letting you out of my sight again, baby.”

You chuckle softly, squeezing your arms around him, “Oh, is that right? — What are you going to do, keep me cuffed to the bed?”

He pushes the fabric up, nudging his fingertips along the bare skin underneath. There’s something so serious in his eyes, even when he’s still trying to keep things light with you. He gives a small shake of his head.

“Cuffed to me, I think.” He mumbles, half-heartedly trying to joke with you. Your brows furrow softly, trying to get a read on him.

“Bradley,”

“Mm?” He swallows dryly, watching his fingers smooth along your soft stomach rather than looking you in the eye.

“Are you okay?” You ask softly.

Finally, he looks at you, staring you on the face like he’s trying to come up with an answer rather than just saying what’s really on his mind. He exhales unsteadily and shakes his head.

“Yeah,” He decides softly, “C’mere, baby. I just need — need…” He exhales, frustrated as he searches for the word. Sex isn’t it, even though that’s where this is headed. “I just wanna be close to you.”

You nod at him. It’s slow, you can feel him trying to control himself, like he’s savouring his time with you. You want to just shake him and tell him that you’re going to be fine, but you let him continue anyway.

He sighs softly as he slips finally into you, lifting you off of the mattress so that he can hug his arms around you. Resting his head against your chest, he rocks his hips slowly.

“I love you,” You tell him softly, smoothing your fingers over the taut muscles in his shoulders. “Thank you for caring about me so much. I’m lucky to have you.”

He holds you tighter, turning his face into the crook of your neck, pressing his lips lazily to your skin. “I love you too, baby. Don’t you scare me like that again.”

Smiling, your fingers card delicately through his curls as you give a quick shake of your head, “I won’t.”

[droughtofapathy]

For those of you in New York, don't think that just because we are a blue state it means you don't have to vote or that your vote does not matter. Maybe it will be a forgone conclusion that our electoral college votes go to the Democratic candidate, but voting is not, and never is, just about the presidential election. We are voting on all levels this and every year, and it is vital that you make informed and educated picks. Your local elections are majorly important. If you really want to enact systemic change, this is the most realistic and doable way to achieve that. It starts with small community-based change. Young people statistically has poorer voter turnout as compared to older demographics, and that is why your local councils and small-town mayors and hell even your school boards are able to run business as usual without the interests YOU want in mind. Because you let them.

The first ballot I ever cast when I turned 18 was not in a presidential election. It was to vote on my local school district's budget. It was in the school's gymnasium and despite it being open after school as kids left for the bus or practice or whatever, I was the only student there. This was a budget that directly impacted us, the students, and the people voting were all far older. I have voted in dozens of small elections and ballots where the margins can be as little as two votes.

It matters.

In New York, it is so damn easy to register to vote and to cast your ballot. I do not want to hear your excuse about how you can't register and vote because you don't drive, or you're disabled and can't stand in line day-of, or whatever your "well actually" comment is. If you are eligible to vote in this state, you can and must vote.

You can register online here

What do you need to register? Three things:

NYS driver license, permit, or non-driver ID card

ZIP Code currently on record with the DMV

Social security number

As a member of society, you have those things. If you work, you must have those things. If you want to rent an apartment, you must have those things. If you do anything at all, you have those things. If you don't have those things, then you are a very hyper-specific case and honestly, what are you doing on tumblr dot com when it seems like you might have bigger issues at hand?

But what about the actual voting?

Guess what? New York has some of the easiest voter methods in the damn country. Since 2020, requesting a mail-in ballot is easier than getting a sandwich at the deli.

Apply for a Mail-In Ballot Here

Any voter. You do not need to have a reason. You can just fill out the form. It takes five minutes. The ballot arrives at your residence, you fill it out, you mail it back. That's it. No waiting on lines if you aren't able-bodied, no risking contact with anyone else if you're immunocompromised, no taking time off work if you can't afford to.

For those of you not in New York, check your state guidelines here. In Ohio, for example, it's as easy as New York. You can vote by absentee ballot as long as your voter registration information is current. And as one of the most notorious swing states, it is crucial to vote blue in Ohio. Texas, on the other hand, doesn't actually seem to want to encourage voting, and you must meet certain criteria. But those who are disabled can and should request a mail-in ballot.

You can vote. Do it.

[sepublic]

FOR THE FUTURE!!!

         Luz just wanted to be understood… SHE WANTED TO BE UNDERSTOOD!!!!!!! That’s all she wanted and it’s so SIMPLE, it’s not about a specific life goal or agenda, just something you genuinely want! Everything she did, the antics, her weirdness, was just an attempt to show herself so people could see and UNDERSTAND!

         And Camila! The way she told Luz that life is about mess-ups. A-And she told Luz that she’s also messed up, and messed up when she didn’t stand up for Luz… And LUZ REALIZED!!! I CAN’T THIS WRITING AND ARC IS TOO DAMN GOOD!!!

         Willow my babey girl this was lowkey YOUR episode too, I’d honestly tag her as the deuteragonist of For the Future! The way she tries and carries so much, has an enormous burden on what she can do, about showing weakness, about denial! THE CALLBACKS TO BOSCHA! THE PARALLELS! The way they ended off! Willow’s biggest threat being herself, this was a WILLOW episode! And how she’s allowed to show weakness because yes, her dream of wanting to protect others, and needing to be flawed, are not mutually exclusive!

         And like damn. This episode was about, for Luz and Willow, coming to terms with their flaws. Their mistakes. Their imperfections. And ultimately idealizing and accepting those parts of themselves!

         And Hunter can now teleport… Does he have all magic or just his teleportation? Or does he have other magic and only uses teleportation lol? The way he’s so deadset on trying to get back at Belos…

         IT WAS CONFIRMED THE CLAWTHORNE ARCHWAY AND GRAVESFIELD ONE ARE CONNECTED!!! And Belos… BELOS…

         He’s SO twisted, literally melting and falling apart and OH GOD NOT RAINE WHYYYY!!!! The fact that the crew actually played around with Belos trying to possess a grimwalker, only for it to not be ready… Dear god, that poor kid that could’ve been! Could’ve been a twin brother for Hunter to bond with… AND CALEB AND THE GRIMWALKER GHOSTS!!! The one Golden Guard with BIG poofy hair!

         AND KING!!! AND EDA AND LILITH!!! He saved them, he managed to make it work, he’s so clever! And his character development, the recognition that he and the Collector are the same. The Collector afraid of being judged for what his people did, but King doesn’t! But…

         WHO WAS THE WINGED PERSON IN THE VOID?!?! The Collector’s dad?! The voice we heard when Luz last visited?

         And Belos… GOD, it’s twisted seeing Belos still managing to manipulate, KNOW this kid, recoup and turn his thoughts against himself! I was afraid it’d happen and it did! Say what you will but this man may fail but he TRIES and he’s competent, terrifyingly so! Also dammit was imagining he’d possess Odalia… Imagine Amity just nuking two enemies in one blow! Willow and Amity’s friendship too…

         AND BOSCHA BOSCHA BOSCHA!!! BOSCHA ARC!!! It’s everything I’ve read and wanted, her being so desperate to be back with Amity again, needing people, so obsessed with not showing weakness and being at the top and having control! And in the end, Amity confronts that past version of herself, and also the joke about her wanting a student council but being ‘obsessed’! I loved seeing all these kids and it’s neat that Mary’s name was mentioned in the subtitles! The way they acknowledged the Eyeball girl’s past with Gus too, MWAH! And how he knew about Hunter being a Grimwalker, but wanted to give him space!

         And Hunter AND Luz recognizing the nerdery of Camila, and geeking out over it! Luz realizing her mom DOES understand…

         EDA PLAYING WITH RAINE BECAUSE SHE LIKES TO SEE THEM! God she’s so cheeky, Raine leaves her hanging at the Coven Day Parade but that doesn’t stop Eda from pestering them over Penstagram. She’s so great y’all.

         And the Collector, god I saw it coming. The fact that they’d misunderstand and realize King DID lie to them, and wants to go against them! King realizing they don’t deserve it, the fact they were so CERTAIN and trusting! And they keep being lied to and manipulated, this poor kid… God, and the setup for Belos to possess him! To take his power in a vulnerable moment and kill all witches with it!

         Belos also canonically is haunted by visions of the past… That knife had BLOOD, y’all!

         Willow worrying about her parents, and Odalia… That was surprisingly brief, but I feel that’s gonna come back to play next episode! And Kikimora and ‘Roka’, which is what I’ll call it now lol. So desperate for power she’s lording over literal children and able to hide herself as one, that’s hilarious. And the Mat Tholomule twist… But also ambiguity. And also Matt is canonically into robots.

         AND THE TWINS REUNITING!!! Edric in a full-body cast was hilarious. Also I saw Amelia and Cat and that was very deliberate as part of Boscha’s arc, I’m so happy!!!

         This was… what an AMAZING episode, it felt LONG but right! I love the focus on resolving and bringing back characters! Love Kikimora was remembered and the end credits of Boscha being lonely… She’s so messed up I love her!!! What happened to Kikimora’s dragon Princess, anyhow? At this point I’m genuinely starting to think Terra killed her as punishment for attempted defection. And RIP Terra… lol.

         STILL NO EDA KING LUZ REUNION!!! But we’re getting there, we are!!! Soon…

        Damn. Only one episode left. The LAST episode. I’m… I’m gonna miss this guys. But it’s been one hell of a ride and I don’t regret a second of it! Thanks, and see you for the finale…! Peace out!