#a beautiful day for ME a beautiful day for YOU a beautiful day for MR BIDWELL even

[janeyseymour]

A Case of You

Summary: You and a certain redhead are deeply, and undeniably in love- although the two of you don't realize it. Cue Barbara and someone unexpected to fix that for you on Fourth of July.

WC: ~5.4k

(lemme know if you wanna hear my rendition of the song mentioned in this fic :))

It’s an odd situation that you’ve found yourself in. You’ve been living in Philadelphia for a while now. You somehow manage to scrounge up enough money after years of odd jobs, a few investments, and your day job of teaching at Abbott Elementary to finally be able to afford a house. It’s a beautiful little house- one that you’ve been able to turn into something of a quaint little cottage core house. Your backyard is filled with flowers and emulates what some might say is a house in the movies.

And because you finally have a house that you’re proud of, you invite your folks to the city of brotherly love for Fourth of July. There’s no place like the founding city of the country to be in for the day. From the red and blue dyed beers, to the fireworks that burst over the museum of art (and you’ll have a beautiful view of the display room your house), your new city is one of the best places to be.

Once your coworkers find out that you’ll have the view that they’ve always wanted, it’s decided that you’re going to be hosting the holiday not only for your family, but for your work family as well. So, it might be a little crowded, but… it’ll be fun. That’s what you tell yourself. It’ll be fine.

So here you are, on July 3rd, frantically cleaning your house. Not that it’s messy by any means, but you want to impress. Your house is cozy, and you want to give off the effect that it’s well lived in (and it is) while maintaining the sense that you’re clean and proud of the place that you inhabit. It’s not all that hard. There are pictures dressing the walls, beautiful paintings that you’ve done, little knick knacks that you’ve collected over the years. It all feels homey.

But still, you’re making sure that it’s presentable enough that you won’t get ridiculed and lectured by your mother and your coworkers won’t make fun of your home.

That is, until your cell phone rings. Expecting it to be your mother, letting you know that she and your father have landed, you answer the phone, “Hey Mom.”

“Not your mom,” a voice that you’ve been missing comes through the phone.

Your brow furrows as you pause your scrubbing the toilet as you glance at your phone. “Melissa?”

“Yeah, hun. Just callin’ to see if you needed any help with the party tomorrow,” the redhead tells you. “Any cleaning or want me to bring anything or something?”

You bite your lip. You wouldn’t ever admit it out loud, but the person that you’re trying to impress besides your mother is Melissa- the woman that you’ve been hopelessly in love with since you started working at Abbott. “Uhm… I’m just cleaning the last few things now,” you tell her honestly. “But I really do appreciate the-”

“What’s ‘the last few things’? Because you’ve told me that you only have a few things to get done before you head home from work, and then I find out that you stayed at the school so long Mr. J handed you his keys to lock up the building for the night.”

You have to let out a laugh at that memory. You sigh softly as you decide to tell her the truth. “I still have to finish cleaning up the living room and the kitchen. But it really isn’t all that-”

“Jeet?” At your silence, the redhead continues. “I’m bringing over drinks and dinner and helping you clean. I’ll be over in an hour.”

“Melissa,” you try to protest.

She’s quick to cut your argument off though. “I’ll see you in an hour, hopefully less than that.” 

And then you hear the phone line disconnect, and you quietly groan to yourself as you look at your appearance. You’re in your cleaning clothes that are covered with bleach stains, your hair is tied up messily, and makeup hasn’t been applied since probably the last day of school. You look a mess. With a sigh, you head for your bedroom to at least put on your face- you want to look at least somewhat presentable.

The redheaded second grade teacher is knocking at your door less than an hour later.

“Hey,” you smile softly as you open the door. She’s standing there with a case of beer and a bag of what you can only assume is dinner. And somehow, even in just shorts and a tee shirt, she looks as incredible as ever. You find yourself blushing.

“Are you gonna let me in, or should we just have dinner outside?” Melissa quips.

You let out a small, nervous laugh. “No, no, come in. P-Please don’t mind the mess.”

“You’re cleaning, I’m ready to clean,” the woman laughs. “It’s all good. Let’s eat though first, yeah?”

Dinner is nice. The two of you chat about what you’ve been up to since school let out for the summer and potential plans for trips that either of you are looking to take. 

“I just don’t have all that many friends in the area,” you admit shyly. “So, most of my trips are solo.”

“You do have friends in the area,” Melissa refutes. “You got the Abbott group. You got me.” She nudges you with her elbow.

“I do,” you sigh softly. “I just don’t want to be a bother.”

“A lot of people are bothers to me,” the redhead laughs. Then she turns serious. “You ain’t one of ‘em.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “How kind of you to say.”

“If you ain’t doin’ nothin’, I spend a lot of time down at the shore in July,” Melissa offers casually.

You can’t help but smile. “That- that’d be nice, yeah.”

“Well,” your coworker sighs as she sets down her fork and begins to clean up. “This house won’t clean itself. So what do you want me to help you with?”

“You helped enough by making sure I ate dinner,” you tell her with earnest. “You don’t have to-”

“I’m helping, so just tell me what to do, or I’ll start snooping around for cleaning supplies anyway.”

The two of you clean the kitchen and the living room as music floats through your house from your record player.

“You got quite the selection,” Melissa tells you as she dusts the case that holds all of your music. “It ain’t half bad.”

You blush. Your music taste is all over the place.

“Mind if I pick an album to listen to next?”

“Of course not,” you call from the next room over. “Pick whatever.”

You expect her to pick a rock band, so when Joni Mitchell’s hauntingly beautiful voice begins to dance in the air, you’re a bit shocked.

Still, you let the music take over your heart and your soul, and when “A Case of You” starts, you can’t stop yourself from singing along softly. As you sing the words to yourself, you realize that you would drink a case of Melissa and still be on your feet. There’s something about her that is so intoxicating and yet always leaves you on your feet. 

Apparently though, your voice travels more than you were aware of. In the living room, Melissa can hear your gentle melody. Her cleaning pauses as she silently makes her way to where she can hear your voice better.

You’re standing there scrubbing the sink as you quietly echo Joni Mitchell’s vocals. It isn’t until the song is over that you hear a different voice.

“You sing real good,” the redhead compliments quietly.

Instinctively, you jump. You weren’t expecting her to hear you. And then your face flushes as you turn to face her. “I- uh…” You can’t get much out than that. You fumble for words for a few seconds before you just barely whisper out an apology.

“You ain’t got nothin’ to be sorry for,” Melissa smiles. “I think I like your version more.”

Your jaw practically drops at those words. “Oh, I- uh, thank you. But nobody can sing it like Joni.”

“I think you did it,” the redhead tells you, and you can tell in her voice that she truly means it. “I saw the guitar in your living room too. You play?”

You shrug. “Kind of.” You don’t want to admit that you’ve been playing for quite some time and oversell yourself- better to underestimate than over.

“Well, after we’re finished cleaning, I think I should get to hear it.”

You blush. “Maybe.”

By the time the two of you have the house straightened up to your liking, it’s quite late. If you’re being honest too, with the amount of alcohol that the two of you have consumed tonight, you aren’t necessarily comfortable with sending Melissa on her way.

“So, I believe you owe me a song,” your colleague teases you as she opens up another beer and settles on your couch.

“I was hoping you’d forget,” you laugh as you sit next to her.

“I’d never forget that voice,” the redhead smiles innocently. “C’mon, just one song?”

With a heavy sigh and a dramatic eye roll, you reach for the guitar that you keep in the corner of the room. You tune it up quickly, chuckling when you see the impressed look that Melissa wears on her face when you don’t actually need a tuner.

You strum the guitar a few times to ensure that it’s tuned to your liking before beginning to play.

Of course, you play your own rendition of “A Case of You” to prove to Melissa that you simply can’t do the song justice the way that Joni Mitchell does. Your approach doesn’t work. By the time you’re finished fingerpicking the last few notes, green eyes are wide and in shock.

“What?” you ask weakly. “I told you I only kind of play.”

“That’s a lot more than ‘kind of’,” the second grade teacher says. “You should be teaching Music, not fourth grade.”

You shake your head. “If I had to do it for a living, I’d hate it. But as a hobby, I do love it.”

“Play another for me,” Melissa requests as she leans back and takes another sip of her drink.

Somehow, the two of you end up going through another two drinks as you give the redhead her own personalized concert. Those sparkling green eyes stay mesmerized with your charming voice as you tell her the stories behind why you learned a few select songs, how you wrote a few, and the way that your melodies are nothing but soothing.

“You should be out in LA writing music,” Melissa tells you. “You’re… incredible.”

Your already red and warm cheeks from the alcohol only become more flushed at her kind words. You can only set the instrument down in response.

“I think I’m done for tonight,” you chuckle as you sip your beverage.

The redhead sighs softly. “I guess I should head out for the night.”

“Stay,” you tell her quickly- probably a bit too quickly. “You’ve had more than enough to drink, it’s late, and I don’t want you out there driving.”

The smirk that tugs at Melissa’s lips, along with that mischievous glint in her eyes gets you to look at her curiously.

“Somehow I knew that when I brought drinks over that would be your response, so I packed a bag,” the redhead reveals. “Let me just go grab my stuff from my car."

You can’t help but throw back your head with laughter. “Of course you thought that.”

“Was I wrong?” your coworker teases.

The two of you end up sharing a bed that night, and when your alarm goes off the next morning, despite the fact that it’s July, you find yourself cold. You turn over, only to discover that the redhead isn’t next to you.

But you can hear soft humming coming from downstairs, along with the record player. She’s downstairs. And then once you’ve woken up a bit more, you can smell the coffee and breakfast being made. You make your way downstairs and can’t stop yourself from practically drinking in the sight of Melissa Schemmenti cooking you breakfast.

She must hear your footsteps, because she turns on her heel and smiles at you. “Hope you don’t mind that I made breakfast.”

“I’ll never pass up a Schemmenti meal,” you tease. “You know that.”

It’s only a few minutes before the two of you are sitting at the kitchen table with plates in front of you.

“You know you cuddle in your sleep?” Melissa asks.

You turn a violent shade of red. “S-sorry.”

She shrugs. “Don’t be. It was nice.”

Your heart flutters. You never thought that the rough and tough Melissa Schemmenti would be one for cuddling, but here she is.

Breakfast is nice and warm, and you can’t help the blush in your cheeks as the two of you clean in a comfortable silence. More than once, the two of you accidentally brush hands together or her hand finds the small of your back to guide you out of her way.

The both of you get ready for this party, and by the time you’re making your way down the steps to change the record, your doorbell is ringing.

It’s your parents- of course they show up first. It’s not that you aren’t happy to see them, but you wish the house was a bit more full so that you wouldn’t get the third degree as soon as you see your mother.

“Is it Barb?” Melissa’s voice floats down the steps before she comes into sight. When she turns the corner, she sees your parents still standing on the front step. “Oh.”

“Who are you?” your mother eyes your coworker warily.

“Melissa,” the redhead states. “Just a coworker of Y/N’s.”

Your mother hums quietly before inviting herself in. Her eyes glance around your place with a slight frown. “This isn’t much.”

“It isn’t,” you mumble. “But I very much like where I live and how I live.”

“When you said you could afford to buy a house, I was expecting more.”

“Jane, lay off,” your father cuts in. “Y/N, your house is very… you. I like it.”

You’re not quite sure what to say to that. So you simply smile at your father as a silent ‘thank you’ and direct the conversation elsewhere, praying that your coworkers show soon. “Did you want anything to drink? I have wine in the fridge, or I just have to set out the ice for the coo- shoot.”

“What is it?” Melissa asks, brows furrowed with concern.

“I forgot to buy ice yesterday.”

“Oh,” the redhead rolls her eyes as her arm wraps around your waist. “I can just run to the corner store real quick and grab some.”

Your eyes soften significantly as Melissa Schemmenti saves the day. “Thank you.”

“Not a problem, hun.” She grabs her purse from the kitchen table and heads out with a soft hum, only to pop back in. “You need anything else? Or… do you guys want anything?” she directs that last part at your parents.

All three of you shake your heads, so she smiles that Philly smile of hers and heads out.  You momentarily forget that your parents are present, and you can’t help the shy smile and blush that creeps into your cheeks as you watch her figure leave.

“Your little friend is very pretty,” your mother states once the door is shut.

You turn to her sharply. “Oh?”

“She’s very pretty,” your mom says again.

“Oh, good. I thought it was just me,” you mutter.

“No,” your father cuts in this time. “It’s a fact. You should probably get a move on if you want to do something about that. A girl that pretty won’t be single for long.”

“I was planning on pining from afar for anywhere from two to ten years and seeing where that got me. Probably nowhere, but I won’t know until I try,” you quip cheekily. “

"Your mother and I both saw the way she looks at you- she definitely has a thing for you too,” your father tells you. “Just… think on it. Yeah?”

You roll your eyes dramatically, and sigh. “Just… don’t go doing your meddling, please?”

“I won’t,” your dad raises his hands in mock surrender. Your mother, on the other hand though, stays quietly.

Melissa makes her way into the house again not twenty minutes later, a smile dancing on her lips. “The ice is in the cooler, along with the drinks.”

“Thank you,” you smile at her warmly. You then note that she has three drinks in her hand: a beer for her and your father, and a seltzer for you. She passes them out silently before cracking hers open and taking a sip.

She then leans in and wraps an arm around your waist again before mumbling into your ear, “If my mother said that to me about a house this beautiful, I would’ve lit the trash can on fire.”

The giggle that erupts from your soul is hard to contain. Thankfully, you don’t have a chance to say anything else because your doorbell rings. And when the two of you go to open the door, you’re more than pleased to see the entirety of the Abbott clan. Anything to get your mother’s attention off of you.

As it turns out, your mother and Barbara seem to get along swimmingly. What surprises you is how much your mother likes Janine and Ava as well. Your father quite enjoys Mr. Johnson’s tales, is able to talk sports with Gregory, and even falls for Jacob’s awkward charm. And Melissa is able to meander through your backyard with you as you ensure that nothing gets too out of hand.

When you’re chatting with your father and Mr. Johnson, your mother glances over at you. Melissa has an arm slung around your shoulder, and you don’t seem to mind it one bit.

“Tell me,” your mother implores Barbara. “Melissa.”

“What about her, dear?”

“Her and my daughter.”

“Oh,” the kindergarten teacher chuckles as she sips on her wine. “Those two have been pining for each other for years. If you ask me, it’s just a matter of time before they finally pull their heads out of their asses and get together.”

Your mother sighs a breath of relief. “I’m glad I’m not the only one to notice.”

“Oh, you aren’t, Jane,” Barb laughs. “Don’t tell either of them, but we have a bet on how long it’ll take them to finally start dating. I said by the end of July. Everyone else still thinks they’ll be dancing around it come the beginning of the school year.”

“While I don’t approve of a lot of the choices my daughter has made,” your mother sighs. “Including moving away from us, I do want her to be happy. Do you think she’ll be happy with Melissa?”

“That daughter of yours is never happier than when she’s with Melissa,” Barbara states simply. “And just so you’re aware: your daughter has done a whole lot of good while she’s been out here with us. We are very proud of her, and you should be too. I know she sometimes feels that she isn’t good enough for you.”

Your mother bites her lip, a bit ashamed at how she knows she’s made you feel- both today and in the past. “I suppose you’re right. I’ll mend that.”

“As you should.”

“But for now… my husband promised he wouldn’t meddle in her love life, but I made no such promise. Should we win that bet for you?”

The kindergarten teacher is clearly intrigued as she raises a brow. “And how do you propose we would do that?”

Their plan, as it turns out, is not the most intricate. It’s to simply get the two of you hammered while your mother quietly feeds you comments about how you’re already practically in a relationship with the redhead. Meanwhile, Barbara will plant that same seed in Melissa’s head before daring her to just make a move- Melissa is never one to turn down a dare while intoxicated; that’s how she ended up doing cartwheels on South Street one night after a particularly wild night at Oscar’s.

“You know she spent the night last night?” Barbara asks your mother. “Came over to help clean and ended up just staying.”

Your mother’s perfectly sculpted brow lifts. “I just assumed she was the first one here.”

“Nope,” your mother smirks. “I was supposed to pick her up so all of us Abbott people could come together.”

“Interesting… if you’ll excuse me, I believe I have some snooping to do.” With that, your mother rises from her seat and enters your house. Immediately, her eyes turn to the steps where your room and main bathroom are. She ascends up the steps. Melissa’s things, at least that’s what she assumes, are still scattered around in the bathroom. And… bingo: two toothbrushes. Then her eyes wander into the bedroom. Your mother knows that you don’t typically make the bed, but she is surprised to see that both sides of the bed are disheveled- bodies had clearly been on both sides.

Meanwhile, outside, Barbara makes her way over to you and Melissa.

“Where’d my mom go?” you ask.

“Bathroom,” Barb tells you gently. Her eyes don’t miss the fact that the redhead’s arm is still around you. “You two seem to be having a nice time.”

Green eyes glare at her work best friend, but you just smile and lean into Melissa. That glare washes right off of her face.

“It’s nice,” you smile. God, that smile of yours has the second grade teacher wrapped around your finger. “I’m almost done my drink though.”

That’s all the kindergarten teacher needs to hear to begin her side of the plan. “Let me get you both drinks.”

“Oh, I can get them for us,” Melissa tells your coworker. Her hand slips away from your back, and it’s odd that you feel the slightest bit cold without her holding you.

The kindergarten teacher watches the way that your eyes linger on Melissa’s figure. And when she’s bringing back the drinks, you simply attach yourself to her hip again.

“Cheers,” Barb smiles as she lifts her glass in the air. The three of you clink, and then drink. She makes a mental note to pace herself while raising her glass in your direction often. Melissa and you never turn down a toasted drink. 

When Barbara sees your mother make her way back out, she moseys over. “What did you find?”

“Those two are so in a relationship, even if they aren’t admitting it. They shared a bed and everything!”

“Well, I’ve already initiated them getting drunk,” Barb informs your mom.

“Perfect,” your mother grins. Her eyes glance in the direction that you and your coworker are in. “Those two are idiots if they don’t think they’re in love. Well, time to go start.”

When you see your mother walking in your direction, you simply tap your can with Melissa’s before downing a good portion of it. The redhead follows your actions, although her eyes do widen when she sees how much and how quickly you’re drinking.

“My dear,” your mother starts. “Can I have a word with you?”

With a soft sigh, you nod and allow her to pull you in another direction. 

“What, Mom?”

“Don’t take that tone with me,” your mother instructs strictly. Then she softens significantly, and you feel like you’re a young child again. She used to look at you with so much love. “I just… wanted to apologize.”

“For?” you raise a brow.

“The things I’ve said about your career choices and the likes,” your mother sighs sheepishly. “I- I am very proud of you. I hope you know that.”

You frankly aren’t sure what you’re supposed to say to that, so you just give a sad smile. “Thank you for saying that, Mom.”

“I know that you probably don’t believe me, but I am very proud of you. You’re shaping the future generations, and you’ve been able to make it out here on your own. You seem to have a lovely work life, and… you’re a hell of a lot happier here than you were back home.”

“I am,” you admit. “I love it here, Ma.”

“That’s all I could ever want in this life for you- happiness,” your mom smiles as she squeezes your hand. “My sunshine deserves sunshine.”

“Thank you, Mom.”

“I think I know how you could be happier though.”

“I’m not moving back-”

“I’m not asking you to move back home,” your mother rolls her eyes. “I’m asking you to pull your head out of your ass and get with that little friend of yours already.”

“I thought I told you and Dad not to meddle in my life love,” you smirk.

Your mother replicates your facial expression- one of mischief. “I never agreed to that, dear. But I mean, come on. It’s quite clear to me that you have feelings for her.”

“So what if I do?”

“It’s also quite obvious to me that she reciprocates those feelings for you,” your mother states. “I mean, the two of you act as though you’re already together as it is.”

“We do not,” you blush.

“She stayed at your house last night, the two of you shared a bed, her toothbrush is right next to yours in the holder.”

“Friends stay over at each other’s houses sometimes,” you counter.

“She’s been hanging off of you all day,” your mother points out. “She calls you hun.”

“She calls every one ‘hun’.”

“Her eyes never leave you, and your eyes never leave her. Just admit that you’re in love with her. And she’s in love with you.”

“She is not,” you roll your eyes.

“All I’m saying is: the two of you act like you’re in a relationship already. Just… think about your happiness for your ol’ Ma. I do want grandkids at some point, you know.”

Barbara grabs her work wife by the arm. “Cheers!”

The redhead only throws back her head to laugh before taking a long swig.

“So when are you gonna just tell that girl that you’re in love with her?” the kindergarten teacher probes.

“Never,” Melissa rolls her eyes. “I plan on pining from afar for… forever. There ain’t no way someone like that would ever want me.”

“I see the way she looks at you, Melissa,” Barbara reminds her friend. “She loves you, and the two of you act like you’re in a relationship as it is.”

“No we don’t.” The pointed look from her coworker has the redhead blushing. “Okay, maybe we do. But there’s a difference between acting like it, and actually being in a relationship.”

“I think you should go for it,” Barb says. “Tonight.”

“What?” Green eyes go wide.

“Why not? Nothing is more romantic than fireworks. And, the two of you are drunk, and if it doesn’t feel right you can always blame it on the booze.”

The second grade teacher bites her lip. “I don’t know.”

“Just… think about it.”

No sooner is the redhead back at your side, holding you by the hip again. And while she seems like everything is wonderful and there is nothing but pleasant thoughts going on in her head, that couldn’t be further from the truth. Her mind is swirling with what it would be like to kiss you, to be in a relationship with you.

Maybe, Melissa thinks to herself. 

Well, that maybe turns into an Absolutely I will, when Barbara dares her a few hours later to do something about the mutual pining that is going on between the two of you.

“I dare you to kiss her while the fireworks are going on,” the kindergarten teacher smirks, pretty intoxicated herself. 

“I will,” the redhead chuckles, never one to turn down a dare.

By the time the fireworks start going off, everyone is either on a blanket that they had brought or in a chair that lived at your house. Of course, you’re the last to search a seat due to your expert hosting skills, and you find yourself coming up with nothing.

“Come here,” Melissa rolls her eyes. As if you would find anywhere else to be but near the redhead. You stand beside her, ready to take in the spectacle that is about to light up the sky. And in a daring move, the second grade teacher easily tugs you into her lap. She her arms around your midsection and rests her chin on your back.

Your mother nudges Barbara with her elbow, grinning from ear to ear. “You think it’s gonna happen?”

“I dared Melissa to,” the kindergarten teacher mutters back. “So, yeah.” 

“Perfect.”

As the first fireworks go off, you can feel the excitement practically radiating off of Melissa. It’s adorable when you turn and see how awestruck she is by the lights in the sky. Your coworkers are entirely entranced by the display, and when it’s clear that the finale is about to take place, you expect to see those green eyes focused on the dark night above you. But instead, the redhead is looking directly at you.

“Lis,” you chuckle, and you try to turn her head so she can look up at the last of the fireworks. She doesn’t seem to care about the spectacle. No, her eyes are trained on you. “You’re gonna miss the finale.”

“I don’t care,” the redhead breathes.

“But they’re beautiful,” you whisper.

“Not as beautiful as you,” Melissa tells you quietly. And then her lips meet yours. And… the fireworks in the sky are no comparison to the fireworks in your heart.

Everyone that had gathered at your house is mesmerized by the display in the sky- all except your mother and Barbara. Silently, they high five before turning their eyes back to the finale of the fireworks.

Once the fireworks are over, it isn’t long before your friends and family begin to file out of your house.

“Don’t think that we aren’t talking about that kiss that I saw,” your mother whispers to you as she hugs you goodbye. Immediately, your cheeks flush red. But you can’t say anything, because she’s off of you, and giving Melissa a hug goodbye.

Barbara, on the other hand, doesn’t give any inclination that she knows what had taken place just a few short minutes ago. She heads out with a hug and a kiss to your cheek, thanking you for your wonderful hospitality.

And then you and the redhead are alone. And before you know it, her lips are back on yours.

Fast forward to the end of Summer, and Melissa has been your girlfriend since the Fourth. It’s been a wonderful summer spent down at the beach with her, and all too soon you’re walking back into the halls of Abbott.

Barbara doesn’t say anything when she sees the two of you walk in together or the way that Melissa instinctively prepares your morning beverage for you. No. She chooses to wait until the last of your Abbott family has made their way into the staff lounge.

“So,” the kindergarten teacher claps her hands together with a bright grin on her face. “Where’s my money?”

“Your money?” your girlfriend raises a brow.

“My money,” Barbara states with a smile.

“For what?” Jacob asks.

“The bet.”

“No one won,” Ava rolls her eyes. “Not yet at least. I still got my bet going.”

“That’s where you would be wrong,” the kindergarten teacher reveals. “Y/N and Melissa got together on Fourth of July.”

Your jaw nearly drops. “What?”

“You heard what I said, baby.”

“H-how?”

“While everyone else was watching the fireworks, I saw what I needed to see. So, just confirm it so I can win my three-hundred dollars.”

“Three hundred dollars?” Melissa asks incredulously. At her best friend’s nod, the redhead just continues to flounder for words.

“I ain’t payin’ until one of them confirms.”

You sheepishly smile as you raise the two of your hands from under the table, intertwined.

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[filthygalli]

Unholy

Fem!Reader x Priest!Hwang In-Ho (one shot)

Warnings: 18+, Sexual Innuendo, Not for religious people tbh, mention of fingering, sex, bibles, beliefs, and many more that I forgot. Badly written and also not proofread.

Word Count: 1747

Author's Note: I wrote this while waiting for my friends outside the lobby of my school, it took me an hour to construct something like this but I feel like it's bad, please let me know what do you think! 🥺🖤

You're not as faithful as your parents, they pray everyday and night, thanking god for everyday life that God made for them, going to church every Sunday, worshipping their god, offering help at the church when they can—while you their only daughter and child aren't that faithful, you respect it though, it's just you have more important things to do since you're in college and also working as a librarian at a local Library not too far from your house. You work there for months now and honestly, you enjoy it. You get to read your favorite books while helping the locals to find their own books, recommending them books, telling them where it is located, it's simple but you enjoy it.

One day, there's this Tall and handsome middle aged man went inside the library, he's alluding, his jaw is Sharp, his hair looks soft and fluffy—it almost cover his forehead, it's also a dark brown color, you looked at him from up to down, he wears a rimless glasses, pushing it up on his nose with his index fingers, he wears a black pants, a leather boots that heels clicked everytime he walks—he looks hot and sexy, yet innocent. Too innocent looking for an old man like him, you also noticed his clothing, similar from what the priest wears, black button up sleeve that hugged every muscle on his figure, the way his biceps tightened around the sleeve of his shirt, veins popping out as he adjusts the sleeve from his elbows, then he walked towards you—Wait Towards you?!—His gaze on you is soft and quiet, he slowly walks towards you, the heels of his leather booths echoed through the thick air of silence, You gulped as he smiled at you before speaking, “Hi, Good morning.” He said leaning down a little at your table, Your breath hitched as his dark brown eyes turned up to look at you, ‘God…’ you thought, a silver cross necklace hangs on his neck as he leaned down, “Hi, Goodmorning Sir..” you mumbled as you tried to pretend that your busy, “I'm sorry to bother but I need some help to find a specific book..” he said as he deeply chuckled, ‘Fuck, he looks and sounds so hot’ you thought as you gave him a shy smile, “Ah..What kind of book is it?” You said slightly fixing your skirt as you stood up, He paused for a moment, “Well…I-” he hesitated before chuckling again, “It's a book about.. Erotic fiction,” he said scratching the back of his neck, avoiding your look, ‘Oh…not so innocent at all’ you thought as you gave him a smile, “Well, we have a lot,” you said chuckling at him, “yeah..” he muttered as he smiled back, he smiled brightly, “Follow me, Mr..?” You said walking towards the book section as you turned back to him, “In-Ho, Hwang In-Ho.” he looked down on your figure as he towered you, “Mr. Hwang…please, Follow me.” You said as he nodded, following you after.

“Here we are,” you said as you pointed at the bookshelves full of erotic fictions that Mr. Hwang asked you, “That's a lot…” he said as his eyes wandered through numerous books. In Front of him, his eyes twinkled at the different colorful and dark book covers, “What do you recommend? Ms..?” he said eyeing you, “Y/n L/n” you mumbled as he nodded, “Y/n..” he tested your name on his lips, he liked the sound of it, it's unique and beautiful—perfect for such a beautiful woman like you, “Well, Nice to meet you, Ms. Y/n.” He said extending his hand for you to shake, you looked at his hand, Fuck his hand look so big compared to yours, it's veiny and it looks soft—You extended your hand as you felt his soft touch against your skin, you shook it as Mr.Hwang didn't break eye contact with you, “Nice to meet you too, Mr. Hwang.” You muttered, “In-Ho, Call me In-Ho, Sweetheart.” You blushed at the name he called you, Sweetheart? You repeated the name inside your head, you smiled slightly to yourself, Mr. Hwang noticed it, he smirked as he pulls his hand away from your grasp, “So,” you breathe out, “It's quite odd for someone like you to find such books like these–” you said motioning the books around the two of you, he chuckled deeply, “I like reading, it's just,” he stopped for a moment, unsure of what's he going to say, “I wanted to try the uhm, this kind of genre.” He said as he slowly looked away from you, embarrassed. “I see, well, there's a lot of books that are great under the genre that you're curious about,” you said as you slowly wander your eyes around the bookshelves, finding a specific book that might interest Mr. Hwang—He glance at you; admiring your innocent features, the way you would look at him…it's pure innocence, your soft and pinkish lips, he also noticed your hands earlier , the way his own hands gripped yours, your delicate touch made him shiver a little, The way your skirt hugged your curves—it fits perfectly on you, the only thing he can think about is bending you over on your table as he raise your skirt, spanking your ass hard that'll leave marks on your skin for days, or maybe bending you over as he slid his fingers inside you, pumping in and out of your pussy teasingly as you beg him to go faster as you chase your high, he felt his pants get tight as he thinks about his unholy thoughts about you, for god sake—he’s a damn priest, why would he think such things like this? He'll burn in hell because of you, but his soul is worth burning if he sinned because of you.

He'll make you quiver, shake, and whisper his name like a fervent prayer.

His eyes grew darker, as you explained every detail of the book that you recommended to him. At this point he doesn't need that book, he needs you, he yearns for you.

“Mr. Hwang?” You called his name, “Hmm?” He muttered, snapping himself out of his thoughts, “I said, Would you enjoy these?” You said bringing the two books from your hand to his face, he looked at the dark cover of the book, it had skulls and roses on it, ‘Haunting Adeline’ he read the book title in his mind, “Oh..what is it about?” He asked tilting his head a little, “Well…it's a cat and mouse trope, he stalks this girl and do stuffs to her..” you said almost a whisper, he noticed that you were shy, he finds it adorable, “Ah, I see…that'll do, I'll let you know if I liked it or not,” he chuckled which made you chuckle too, “Alright, just bring it to my desk so I can log the book under your name,” you said as you gave him a knowing look, he nodded and followed you behind.

You logged the book under his name and asked for his details, “Sorry but…what's your name again?” You asked slightly embarrassed. That's a big lie, Of course you know his name. He chuckled, “Next time…I'll make sure you'll remember my name.” He teased as he deeply chuckled, the sound of his chuckle sent shivers down your spine, “It's Hwang In-Ho, Sweetheart.” There is it again, that little nickname. “Right, I'll make sure to remember it this time.” You gave him a smile as you gave the book to him, “Here you go, Mr. Hwang.” he grabbed the book on the table, still looking at you, “I told you to call me In-Ho, sweetheart.” he said as he grinned, “In-Ho…Alright.” You say as you nodded, he left after that.

In-Ho went out of the Library, his mind is full of your image all he could think about is Y/n. Y/n. Y/n. Y/n. He can't stop himself from thinking such things about you, he feels disgusting, pathetic—he’s a fucking priest! First, he borrowed a book that it's clearly not appropriate for him to read, second, the way he imagined how he will bend you over and fuck you all over the bookshelves in that library makes his pants tight, he groans to himself as he reach his house, throwing the book on the coffee table, he sat down on the sofa as he questions himself about what he just did a couple of minutes ago.

Reading is one of In-Ho’s hobbies. He likes to read any kind of genre of books, he owns tons of erotic fiction in his home, it sounds odd that a priest who's supposed to be reading bibles and pray every day and night likes to read unholy fiction novels. But, earlier at the library it's his first encounter with a woman like you, you're beautiful unlike other women that he had one night stand with, Christ—he’s a priest and he does one night stand?!—He likes how calm you are, how cute you are when you get shy or stutter a little when he looks at you, he yearns for you, he wants you badly, and he'll make you his no matter what.

You sat on your chair doing paperwork as the priest from earlier came across your mind, you thought of how handsome he is for a priest, how veiny his hands are, how fit he is—is he really a priest?—how he looks at you with those eyes, it's not just a normal look, it's the hungry gaze, how his pupils dilate when he looks at you, it's weird because priests should be reading bibles instead of erotic fictions, right? Also…a dark romance book too? You wonder if he likes to read books like that, you wonder what book is his favorite, or where and what church is he a priest on because you want to see him on that altar speaking words of god as you hear it as words of lust, how you want him to moan your name like a prayer, spread your folds like a page from a Bible, or bend your back on the table like how he bends the spine of the book where words of god is written, you feel a pool of wetness on your thighs as you squeeze them together, it feels so illegal, thinking this way, it's filthy and disgusting, Yet you love it.

Author's Note: Aaaaaaa omg thank you for reading my works, we're so close on 300 flowers!! I'm so touched for having such kind and loving readers like y'all:(( I'm going to keep publishing my works for y'all! More updates soon! Thank you!🖤🥺

[checkeredflagggs]

Febuwhump Day 4 (Alt 6): Emergency Surgery

pairings: gen

summary: a story about y/n, Redbull’s new second driver, told in non-sequential order

a/n: I love febuwhump and have participated before for other fandoms but this is a first for me — attempting to compete it via smau only. Hopefully I can write a complete story eventually and I will be posting it on its own masterlist in the correct order to read but it’ll be written based on the febuwhump prompt list! @febuwhump

a/n2: based on the 2024 year; sorry checo but you got replaced earlier!

Bluesky

y/n_rb

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, lewishamilton, and 2,153,123 others

y/n_rb: I lived bitch! And this hospital is awesome — the food slaps

view all comments

user1: you’re back!

↳y/n_rb: course I am!

↳y/n_rb: who would terrorize the frenchie if I wasn’t?

↳pierregasly: 😑😑😑

↳pierregasly: Oh...tu es de retour...super. Oh...you're back...great. (Content de voir que tu es réveillé. Glad to see you’re awake.)

francisca.cgomes: Mon amour! My love!

↳pierregasly: 😑😑😑

↳pierregasly: you’ve been awake 10 minutes

↳y/n_rb: love has no timeline

↳francisca.cgomes: 🥰🥰

oscarpiastri: good you’re awake — would you finally text Hattie back? She’s blowing up my phone

↳y/n_rb: I know!

↳oscarpiastri: what?

↳y/n_rb: I wanted to see if she could crash your phone

↳oscarpiastri: why am I friends with you again…

↳y/n_rb: booooooo 👎👎👎👎

↳hattiepastri: boooooo 👎🏻👎🏻👎🏻👎🏻

↳oscarpiastri: 🙄🙄🙄

alexandrasaintmleux: leo is ready and waiting to help nurse you back to full health

↳y/n_rb: leo my love 😍 💙💙💙

↳alexandrasaintmleux: he’s very excited!

↳y/n_rb: ditch Charles and run away with me?

↳alexandrasaintmleux: 😳😳😳

↳charles_leclerc: non! Laisse ma copine tranquille! Leave my girlfriend alone!

↳francisca.cgomes: 😧😧😧

↳y/n_rb: don’t worry beautiful I have two hands for a reason!

↳francisca.cgomes: 🤭🤭🤭

↳alexandrasaintmleux: 🥰

↳charles_leclerc: No!

↳pierregasly: No!

lewishamilton: very glad to see you’re doing well 🖤

↳y/n_rb: I’m doing great Sir Lewis Hamilton

↳lewishamilton: what are the odds that you just call me Lewis?

↳y/n_rb: in the negatives Sir Lewis Hamilton

↳lewishamilton: of course. Regardless, I’ve sent something to help your recovery ❤️‍🩹

↳y/n_rb: #blessed day liked by lewishamilton

fernandoalo_oficial: ¿Te sientes mejor? You're feeling better?

↳y/n_rb: doing perfectly fine Mr. Fernando sir!

↳logansargeant: you had to have emergency surgery due to the hole in your leg?

↳y/n_rb: ignore the American Mr. Fernando sir!

↳fernandoalo_oficial: ¿Un agujero? A hole?

↳y/n_rb: apparently that’s what happens when part of the car goes through your leg?

↳user2: girl that’s a really bit not good

↳y/n_rb: no no no it’s all fine

↳fernandoalo_oficial: 🤨🤨🤨

↳y/n_rb: ignore that Mr. Fernando sir

↳logansargeant: yeah this is common for her…

Taglist

@anamiad00msday @suns3treading @daniskywalkersolo @awritingtree @justheretoreadthxxs @coral7161 @lost4lyrics @mastermindbaby @freyathehuntress @angelluv16 @nichmeddar @mxm47max @voidvannie @justaf1girl @a-beaverhausen @yawn-zi

[emotionallychargedtowel]

The em dashes in this example don’t exactly “belong” to Emma (the character) though, right? I’m pretty sure this is a summary of Mrs. Elton prattling. I guess I just don't want it to sound like they're Emma's responsibility, which adding them to her name seems to do. Unless they are her responsibility. Hm.

She is the reader’s point-of-view character. She's arguably the one who summarizes Mrs. Elton in this way. If she took Mrs. Elton more seriously it doesn't seem like her words would be summarized in this way. But then we’d have to read every word Mrs. Elton says here—verbatim. No thanks.

I was wondering if the reason Emma is such an em-dash outlier might be because of Mrs. Elton and/or certain other tiresome or longwinded characters (I'm thinking of Miss Bates, of course), along with Emma’s halfway listening to them.

So I cracked open my copy. And now I'm taking a perfectly good joke and turning it into a detailed discussion of my hyperfixation. Well, hopefully it's of interest to others anyway.

The short version of the answer to my question is that Emma's em dash quotient doesn't seem to be entirely, or even mainly, attributable to any specific character, including any propensity of Emma's as our point-of-view character. It's mostly just that Austen goes all out with the em-dashes all over the place. Now, I love em dashes and overuse them habitually. But the em dashes in Emma seem downright excessive to me.

Check out this bit where Emma and Harriet are looking at Mr. Elton's house:

“…there could be no possibility of the two friends passing it without a slackened pace and observing eyes.—Emma’s remark was— ‘There it is. There go you and your riddle-book one of these days.’—Harriet’s was— ‘Oh! What a sweet house!—How very beautiful!—There are then yellow curtains that Miss Nash admires so much.’”

They really are extraneous here.

At other points, they seem to serve the usual purposes in dialogue, like making a sentence into a sort of aside or showing when someone has been cut off by another person. And sometimes they accomplish other worthwhile things. For one thing, as in the Mrs. Elton summary, they often do the work of helping to condense a bit of small talk. There's also a part where Miss Bates goes off at length twice in quick succession, in which the em-dashes show how abruptly she jumps from one topic to the next.

Mr. Knightley's response when he thinks Emma is upset because of the revelation of Frank Churchill's engagement to Jane Fairfax makes good use of them in a related way:

"...[S]he found her arm drawn within his, and pressed against his heart, and heard him thus saying, in a tone of great sensibility, speaking low, 'Time, my dearest Emma, time will heal the wound.—Your own excellent sense—your exertions for your father's sake—I know you will not allow yourself—.' Her arm was pressed again, as he added, in a more broken and subdued accent, 'The feelings of the warmest friendship—Indignation—Abominable scoundrel!' —And in a louder, steadier tone, he concluded with, 'He will soon be gone. They will soon be in Yorkshire. I am sorry for her. She deserves a better fate.'"

The em dashes show the abrupt way he switches from one phrase or exclamation to another. If his tone is "steadier" at the end of this passage, the em dashes seem to show how unsteady he was at the beginning of it. He's not just changing his tack repeatedly, he's doing it because he's agitated.

So, yeah. Austen does some worthwhile things with her preponderance of em dashes in Emma. But for the most part, she was just wilding out.

An ode to em

One of the reasons that I love Jane Austen's work is that she loves an em dash. Just how much does she love an em dash? Behold:

That's right, baby—Emma has 3102 em dashes in it! Not hyphens—this is just the count of true em dashes alone. It's glorious.

Let's all bask in the em dashes in this famous Emma passage:

“The best fruit in England—every body’s favourite—always wholesome.—These the finest beds and finest sorts.—Delightful to gather for one’s self—the only way of really enjoying them.—Morning decidedly the best time—never tired—every sort good—hautboy infinitely superior—no comparison—the others hardly eatable—hautboys very scarce—Chili preferred—white wood finest flavour of all—price of strawberries in London—abundance about Bristol—Maple Grove—cultivation—beds when to be renewed—gardeners thinking exactly different—no general rule—gardeners never to be put out of their way—delicious fruit—only too rich to be eaten much of—inferior to cherries—currants more refreshing—only objection to gathering strawberries the stooping—glaring sun—tired to death—could bear it no longer—must go and sit in the shade.”

31 em dashes in that sequence alone! And that's not even the whole paragraph—there are 9 more em dashes in the rest of the paragraph before that quotation! Iconic.

[thefrontmanscockwarmer]

Teacher’s Pet

Player 001 x reader

Masterlist <- comment on this post to be added to the Taglist

Note: !teacher in Ho, also note the reader is 18 and a senior in high school. Also yes, I’ve watched the actual movie he’s in, it’s just less confusing to refer to him as In Ho bc not everyone has seen that movie.

You stared at your piece of paper, nothing written but you name a few flowers in the top right corner. You saw a dark shadow appear over your desk, you looked up to see Mr. Hwang standing above you. You smile shyly.

“Hi” you say.

“(Y/n), are you serious? You haven’t written a single thing down.” He sighs exasperatedly. The class was looking at you now. You peered up at him.

“Not true. I have flowers and my name.”

“Yes, i can see that, but i asked you guys to write a reflective page on how Frankenstein’s Monster was perceived by the village versus what he was actually like.” He adjusts his glasses, “you’ve not a sentence down and it’s due by the end of class.”

“But sir,” you began.

“Not another word, (y/n), write so I don’t have to give you an F” he turns from you and sits at his desk. Going back through the stack of papers. You sat and started at your paper once again, not knowing where to begin. You wrote: ‘Frankenstein’s monster was not a monster at all. He educated himself and was perceived as worse than he was. In my eyes, he’s more educated than half the men in the world, no man could ever compare to the educatedness of Frankenstein’s Monster; whom even Frankenstein himself treated like a disease and cast him away before finding him to end the life he created.”

The bell rang, everyone began turning in their papers and leaving before Mr. In Ho could say anything. The end of the day was such a glorious time, especially when it’s just moments away from being Friday night. But, not for you, you’d be going a few days without seeing your “life source”. You stand and pack your bag as the last few people filter out of the room. You approach his desk, sliding your paper across it. You turned to leave and had just barely crossed the the threshold of the door before you heard his voice:

“Wait.” He sighed pointedly. Everyone was outside, running to their cars. “This isn’t wasn’t what I asked you to write.” He began. “I asked for a comparison between the monster and the town, not how to tell me how educated and compare him to society today”

“He wasn’t a monster” you said coldly. “He was a work of art. He was life. he was no worse or better than humanity. The town treated him like a monster because that’s what he looked like, not what he was. They hated him because he was ugly.” You said. “But, had they gotten to know him, they would’ve seen he was brilliant, and beautiful. He was educated. Better than any man I’ve ever seen.” He peered at you through soulless eyes before softening his gaze. Your (e/c) bearing themselves into his soul.

“I was going to say, that the writing was great. It may not’ve been what I wanted, but it was a perspective drawn from conclusions you made on your own. It was real worldly and granted, you’re right, he was perceived in a way that was very judged by the cover, not of the pages.” He removed his glasses. “You’re free to go, (y/n), enjoy your weekend.” He gestured towards the door. Butterflies that had erupted in your stomach had been fluttering, heat between your thighs as you realized it was just the two of you in a room together.

“Have a nice weekend, sir” you nodded. And left, letting out a deep breath that you didn’t realize you were holding.You walked slowly down the stairs, preparing yourself for the walk ahead of you as you usually did at the end of the day. You exited the building, nearly everyone was gone, save for a few stranglers.

meanwhile, Hwang was gathering his items, tucking your page away in his bag to read it again later. He hated to admit he was obsessed with your handwriting. Writing assignments were his favorite, your hand on a piece of paper for him to take home and reminisce and think about and reread over and over again. If only you could just graduate sooner, he wouldn’t mind going on a date, or even following you to whatever college. If you’d have him that is. He wished he knew how you felt.

You had made it to the crosswalk, awaiting your turn when In Ho had turned the corner. He saw you standing, rolling down his window.

“(Y/n)?” He called.

“Hello, Mr. Hwang” you waved, “Haven’t ever seen you on this road”

“Yeah, well, I have to pick up some dry cleaning” he says. “Would you like a ride?” He offers.

“Actually yes please.” You say. Turning around and walking towards the plaza, his followed your lead, stopping his car in front of you as you stood in front of the shops. He took a moment to admire you. Your hair flowing through the Spring wind, your skin being kissed gently by the sunlight. You smiled as you opened the door. “Thank you so much, it’s so hot out and I’d have to walk an hour” you sighed as you clipped your seatbelt.

“An hour?! Do you walk everyday?” He asks his eyes wide as you nodded.

“Yeah, my parents are too busy to get me” you shrugged, i pretty much live alone” you chuckle.

“Well, I’m glad I was able to give you a ride, walking that distance everyday sounds harsh on your legs.” He says, he looked at your body, the realization setting in, you were neglected and walked so much you couldn’t help it. You were thin, your clothes barely fit, and your jacket was frayed. I need to take care of her he thought to himself. “Are you hungry? I can stop anywhere you’d like before dropping you off at home.”

“Oh it’s no bother” you say, looking at your phone, letting your mother know you going home. He decided to stop anyways. Your eyes lit up when you saw the Golden Arches.

“What do you want?”

“A small fry, a small dr. Pepper, and a 10 piece chicken nugget.” You repeated. Suddenly your stomach was growling.

“Hi, can i get a #3, make it a large please. And I’d also like a 10 piece chicken nugget, large dr. Pepper, and a a large fry” he spoke to the lady, pulling through and paying at the next window. “If you’re going to eat, you’re going to eat well” he told you as he handed you the food.

“Thank you” you said. He hummed a response and drove. “My address is NW 24th ave, house number 13”

You quickly and discreetly wrote your number on a napkin, letting it fall on the floor. As he pulled his car to your driveway. He leaned over and kissed your cheek.

“Sorry” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean to, i forgot that you’re my student” he chuckled nervously.

“It’s okay” you said, blushing lightly. Butterflies flying your stomach again. Your heart fluttered as you made your next move. You pulled his face to kiss his lips, gently and quickly. His face riddled with shock, his own heart fluttering at the experience. “Thank you, for dropping me off and getting me food. I owe you one some day” he gulped and nodded. You opened your door in a swift motion he reached over and closed it, pressing his lips to yours once more, kissing you fiercely.

Your tongues gliding together before he separated from you. His hand tangling itself in your locks, pulling you closer to him, both of your bodies pressed against the center console, painfully marking your ribs. But pain was subjective, anything endured in those moments where you were entangled together, nothing could possibly hurt. He reluctantly pulled away from you. You both sat breathless, staring deeply into each other’s eyes. He moved a piece of hair out of your face. You were flushed and stumbling over your thoughts.

“Uh my dry-cleaning” he chuckled. “I’m sorry, I- I- I need to go get my dry cleaning. It’s clean and probably going to close soon. I have no clue what time it is” he stuttered.

“It’s okay, i should probably go inside too” you giggle.

“Okay, yeah, okay sounds like a plan.” He said as you opened your door.

“Well, good bye Mr. Hwang” you said as you closed the door, walking up your driveway. He watched as you entered your house before driving away. His mind swirling and his erection straining against his pants. He looked down as he came upon a red light, daring himself to unzip and stroke his cock. Shaking the thought away, he turned up the radio, everything around him reminded him of you.

“Fuck me” he thought as he laid his head back on the headrest. “Fuck me, (y/n)” he groaned.

Taglist

@christinamadsen @sebbymybaby21 @player279achlys @galaxygurlll @whamzou @watasinekoru @angelofthorr @whamzou

[4ever-in-night]

YOU SOUND LIKE LOUIS BURDETTE, BIRTHDAY BOY!

(or, an excuse to draw my #2 favorite song as a birthday gift!!!)

AAAAUUGGHH this piece took. forever. to make because I lost like 60% of my progress like 2 days ago thanks to a horrible fuck up on my part. It really bummed me a lot, but! Fortunately! I managed to salvage it!! And since I had a more clear vision of what I wanted to do, it turned into this wonderful result that I am super proud of!!! (For those curious, this took a total of 20 HOURS to make. The first draft that I lost 60% of has 10.47 hours registered and this finished version has 10.12 hours!!! Truly, I am a madman!!!!)

But. The point of this post is to say: Happy birthday Mr. Jash!!!! Me and your entire fan base is so glad to have you hanging around making the best bangers imaginable. I hope that you get to spend a beautiful day with those you love and I can’t wait for Chaos Week to start later today!!!

Also, have the time lapse! Excuse the quality drop, procreate is weird like that xp And a silly doodle ^^

[nova-anya]

previous || next

Transcript and Extras:

Transcript:

FIONA: What do you think, princess?

WILLOW: *gasping* Baby!! How did you do all of this?

FIONA: Magic.

WILLOW: Thank you, love. This was a really special surprise.

FIONA: Of course. You have been doing such a good job with your work and with the twins, love. I just wanted to show you how much I appreciate you and everything you do.

WILLOW: I don’t deserve you.

FIONA: (laughing softly) You know, I would have never believed I could ever trade the high rise apartments and nice pay raises for picnics at sunset and wildflower bouquets.

WILLOW: And yet here you are, with your beautiful fiancé and two babies waiting at home for you.

FIONA: You taught me about the parts of life that I never even knew existed. I didn’t even know how much I needed them until I met you.

WILLOW: (blushing) You only needed the softness. Not ambitions. Not goals. Just someone to nurture what was already in your heart.

WILLOW: You know... I’ve been thinking...

FIONA: That’s dangerous.

WILLOW: Rude!

WILLOW: Your parents.

FIONA (humming) Not exactly what I want to think about on our first date away from the boys...

WILLOW: Have they RSVPed for the wedding?

FIONA: Um. Not exactly. It’s fine though.

WILLOW: Is it fine? It’s your wedding... they’re your family. They should--

FIONA: (dryly) What? Be asking me about floral arrangements? Wedding gift ideas? Willow, sweetheart, have you heard me talk about my family?

WILLOW: (softly) I just want this day to be perfect. For both of us.

FIONA: It will be. We don’t need them to make our day perfect. Besides, I made my peace with them a long time ago. They’ve always been selectively supportive.

FIONA: Trust me, if I came home on the arm of a man, the plane tickets would have already been booked and our whole honeymoon to Sulani would have been taken care of. But our life? A little too much for them to handle.

WILLOW: (sighs)

FIONA: (adding quickly) Unless you want to attempt a last-minute intervention. You can show up in Willow Creek dressed as the world’s most respectable housewife.

WILLOW: (giggling) Oh yes, that’d go brilliantly. “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Henriquez De La Flor, I am definitely not a free-spirited artist who intends to dance barefoot at your daughter’s wedding.”

FIONA: We’ll get you a handbag and a nice button-up like Mrs. Crumplebottom.

WILLOW: (giggling)

FIONA: I actually think you could make her outfit look pretty sexy...

WILLOW: FI! You are absolutely--

FIONA: At the end of the day, I don’t need them, princess. Any of them. Just you and the boys.

[cosyvelvetorchid]

@bucktommyfluffebruary day 5: mundane chores

*****

Rated G | 651 words

Tommy had protested, but of course didn’t get his way. He never usually did when it came to Evan. One look from his gorgeous boyfriend and he’d give Evan the stars if he’d ask.

It was a silly game they played every time. Buck would offer his help with chores at Tommy’s house and Tommy would argue that he didn’t need to do anything as he was a guest, and Buck would insist and Tommy would give in.

At first it frustrated Tommy—Buck was a guest in his home and guests should be waited on. But quickly Tommy began to realise that Bucks love language was acts of service. Doing something simple like helping Tommy with his chores was his way of showing his affection.

And so now—and every time they do chores together—he finds himself stopping his work to just watch Evan work. He’s supposed to be mopping the floor in the hallway but instead he’s resting his chin on his forearm which is leaning on to handle of the mop as he watches his beautiful boyfriend clean the kitchen.

He’s singing badly in harmony with the radio and moving his body in rhythm to the music as he wipes down the counters. Tommy could honestly cry at how wonderful the sight is.

He never believed he would get, or even deserve, this. To know someone so beautiful who fit into his life and home so effortlessly. He’d always been a little defensive of his home; territorial even. His home was the one place that was his and his alone. His own sanctuary where he felt the safest. He’d never imagined wanting anybody to be around for more than five minutes let alone more than that.

But watching Evan sing and dance around his kitchen like he was made to be there just solidified the idea that had been swirling around his mind over recent weeks.

He leant the mop against the wall and walked over to Evan, sliding his hands around his waist from the back.

“Excuse me, Mr Kinard, but I can’t work while you’re attached to me.” He complained fondly.

“Don’t worry, you can clean anytime.” he placed a few chaste kisses below Bucks ear and felt him leaning into it.

“Not when we both have a run of shifts coming up this week.”

“True. You should probably just move in then.”

Bucks body stiffened before he turned around. Tommy kept his arms around his waist as he did so.

“You.. you want me to-to move in?” Tommy could tell he was trying with all his might to not have an aneurysm. He reached up and fixed the collar of Bucks shirt.

“Well, that depends.”

“On?” Buck asked nervously.

“If you want to. If you’re not ready to it’s-“

The words were stopped in his throat by Bucks mouth on his; heavy and filled with as much affection Buck could muster. He pulled away with the biggest smile Tommy thought he’d ever seen on the man.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He grinned back.

“That depends.” Buck said.

“On?”

“I get to rearrange our kitchen.” Tommy looked at him with a curious expression. “I love you, Tommy but your kitchen organisation leaves a lot to be desired.”

Tommy couldn’t help but laugh. “Evan, you can rearrange the entire house for all I care. So long as you’re in my-sorry, our bed every night and every morning then I’m happy.”

Buck, as he always did when Tommy said such sweet things to him, practically melted. “God, I love you.” He kissed Tommy again only this time he lingered on Tommy’s lips. “Speaking of our bed..” he took Tommy’s hand and lead him out of the kitchen.

“I thought you wanted to get the work done before our run of shifts?” Tommy argued while fully allowing himself to be dragged towards their bedroom.

“I can clean anytime.”

[gravitywonagain]

Mountain Immortal

(a Fresh Powder in the Pine Trees story)

.

Wei Ying is in the zone. 

It’s after lessons have closed on a Tuesday and he’s sitting at a table in the main lodge, editing his and Nie Huaisang’s latest video footage while waiting for Wen Qing to close up the clinic for the day. “Tangerine” is blasting in his headphones and his beat up laptop hasn’t overheated yet. The clips he’s working on are the fails, the attempts, the outtakes. They’re probably his favorites to go through because the pain has passed, but the lesson lives on, and, most of the time, they’re just really funny. Watching Jiang Cheng eat shit off a rail, while knowing that he’s fine, will never get old. 

So he’s totally in the zone. Which is probably why he doesn’t notice Lan Zhan over his shoulder until he feels a hand shaking him gently.

There’s something like panic in Lan Zhan’s voice when Wei Ying removes his headphones.

“When was this?” he asks.

“Ah? Lan Zhan…?”

“Are you hurt?”

“Am I — Lan Zhan, what’s wrong?”

Lan Zhan points to the screen where the Wei Ying of a little over a week ago just landed hard on his ass after a failed rail slide. 

“Ah, no, it’s fine. Wen Qing said all the bleeding was internal. That’s where the blood is supposed to be!”

Alarm lights in Lan Zhan's eyes, his eyebrows twitch toward his hairline.

“It’s a reference!" Wei Ying says, backpedaling hard and fast. "A bad reference. And a joke! Importantly, it’s a joke. I’m fine. I promise. No bleeding, internally or externally. Just a giant bruise on my ass. And on my pride."

Lan Zhan's expression settles out again, and Wei Ying takes a breath. He scoots his laptop over as Lan Zhan takes a seat, pressing play on the clip so that Lan Zhan can see the Wei Ying on the screen roll on the ground for a minute before hopping back up to his feet and trying the rail slide again.

"Nie Huaisang edits all of the good stuff," Wei Ying says. "I get to play with all the stuff he cuts out."

Lan Zhan hums as he watches Wei Ying fall off the rail a second time, though much less spectacularly than the first. "I didn't know you filmed snowboarding movies."

"Movies?" Wei Ying laughs. "You make me sound like Uncle Xiao. No, no. Just stupid little shit like this. Clips and compilations for YouTube. Huaisang just didn't want to go to film school."

“Uncle Xiao?” Of course he would pick up on that. Wei Ying can see him putting it together. He’s so smart. He can’t not. “Xiao Xingchen?”

Wei Ying really does try not to flaunt his connection to living legend Xiao Xingchen, backcountry snowboarder and filmmaker of many a ski resort employees' dreams. But Lan Zhan is Lan Zhan. His family does own this entire mountain. He won't likely be prone to the same starstruck jealousy as many of Uncle Song's rental techs.

“Uh, yeah. He was a close friend of my mom’s.”

Lan Zhan nods.

“He, uh. He used to film me when I was just learning. And then when I was getting better. He didn’t,” Wei Ying has to clear his throat against the memories before he continues, “he didn’t get into making movies for the money. He’s just always liked filming. Uncle Song fucking hates it. I still don’t know how Uncle Xiao convinced him to be in Distant Snow and Cold Frost.”

“Mr. Song does not seem the type to enjoy being filmed.”

“‘Mr. Song.’ So formal, Lan Zhan!”

“He is my coworker. And a department head.” 

“Sure, but he’s also a fucking knuckle-dragger. Just call him Song Lan. For me.”

Lan Zhan hesitates, and Wei Ying can see the impropriety of it eating away at him. But, after a moment, he acquiesces with a quiet, “Mn.”

“Have you seen any of Xiao Xingchen’s films?”

“I have. We screened Mountain Immortal here after it won an award at Banff.”

“Ah! I can’t watch that one without crying, like a lot.”

“It was a beautiful tribute.”

It was a beautiful tribute. Cangse Sanren, as she’s known in the world of winter sports, and Wei Changze had died in an avalanche in Colorado while Xiao Xingchen had been filming in Alaska. When he heard about it, Uncle Xiao had taken his movie about the history of splitboarding and made it into a memorial to his sister and her husband. Of course, it still flowed really well because he just made it a family thing. Grandma Baoshan was still a main feature as the inventor of the splitboard. She passed her backcountry spirit onto her kids and on down. 

There was so much home-video footage from Xiao Xingchen’s teenage fascination with cameras, so much footage of Wei Ying’s mom. Less of Wei Changze, but there was enough. 

Wei Ying pauses, considering how he wants to take this conversation. He could just pass this off as a passing interest, or shift to talking about outdoor sports in the film industry. But he’s been pushing Lan Zhan out of his comfort zone a lot. Possibly too much. He’s earned this, if he wants it. So Wei Ying takes a deep breath and says, “It’s my family.”

“Your… You’re Cangse Sanren’s son?”

“I am!” He smiles as bright and wide as he used to for her. It almost doesn't hurt to do it for Lan Zhan.

“So when you said ‘uncle,’ you meant…”

“Yeah! Mama was never formally adopted by Grandma Baoshan, but yeah. I meant jiujiu.”

This is the moment, usually, when someone will lavish him with sympathy, condolences or whatever. Wei Ying hates it, but he understands. Death is hard, but more than that it's weird. It lingers, haunting every relationship for the rest of forever.

But Lan Zhan doesn't say all the uncertain placating things that Wei Ying is used to. His face draws in, not in discomfort but in… understanding.

He hums, a small sad noise and then says, “My mom died when I was young, too.”

Wei Ying could almost fall over with relief. Which is. Not the reaction he should have to that. “Do you remember her?” he asks.

“A little. I was six.”

“Oh, I was fourteen.”

“Tell me about her?”

Wei Ying gasps a little, despite himself. “Really?”

“You don’t hav—”

“No, I’d like to. I just." Nobody has ever asked him that before. "Yeah! Okay.” 

Wei Ying takes a deep breath. He doesn’t really know where to start, so he just talks. He tells Lan Zhan stories from his childhood. Stories about snow and laughter and family. 

He talks about her smile and the way she always seemed to have snow in her braid. She used to spray him with powder every time he beat her down the hill. It was funny and very Mama, but it also taught him to go slower, to take his time on the slope. She refused to let anybody else teach him how to ride. She taught him to carve, first on groomers and then in powder. She used to put hand warmers in her boots because her toes were always cold. And she was just constantly losing pairs of goggles. 

He tells Lan Zhan the story of how Cangse Sanren and Wei Changze met. How they shared a chair at Park City and Wei Changze, a skier, had waited for Cangse to strap in. How he had followed her, kept up with her, impressed her. How she’d invited him for a drink at the lodge but, when they figured out that neither of them could afford ski resort alcohol, they’d crawled into the back of Wei Changze’s beat up station wagon and smoked weed in the parking lot. 

He tells him about skiing between his baba’s legs when he was too young to snowboard. About Wei Changze’s impressive will power and consistency, like how he would just quit drinking coffee occasionally when he felt he was too addicted. And his lifelong commitment to skis, despite his wife’s family’s many attempts to convert him. It won him great esteem from one of his mothers-in-law and… something else from the other. 

“Grandma Baoshan always called him an ‘unrepentant skier’ and I was never sure if she meant that as a compliment or an insult.”

He tells him about his first backcountry trip when he was 9. About the absurdly small splitboard Baoshan Sanren had built for him in her garage. And then about Baoshan Sanren’s garage. The things she made, the prototypes she’d scrapped. How Song Lan was, and still is, the only one she allowed to fully access the garage, not even her wife is allowed in there unsupervised. And the way she’d chase Xiao Xingchen away any time he’d tried to point a camera in her general direction. 

He talks about Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan and going on full family outings with all seven of them packing into two cars and driving to the slopes in the early morning dark. How little Wei Ying would just cruise up the skin tracks once they’d been broken in. How he’d built his muscles surrounded by family and fresh powder. How he’d learned early to earn his turns. 

“I’ll take you up a mountain the fun way sometime,” he offers, and then laughs, delighted by Lan Zhan’s eager acceptance. 

He tells stories of Song Lan teaching him how to do all of the practical maintenance on skis and snowboards and splitboards because he basically did all of it for the whole family. Wei Changze would help and Wei Ying would get the skins all tangled and stuck to each other. How difficult it can be to get that adhesive out of hair. Or hair out of the adhesive. 

“There’s actually a picture in Mountain Immortal,” he says, “of me sitting in a pile of probably ten pairs of skins that Baba and Uncle Song had piled on me because I was causing so much trouble.”

He tells Lan Zhan that his favorite memory, the one he always goes back to, is of just the three of them. They’re at a resort, actually. Which one doesn’t matter, Wei Ying wouldn’t be able to recall the name anyway. All he sees is Wei Changze with his ski poles stuck out behind him for his wife and son to hold onto as he skates the three of them over the flats. 

“I was probably eleven at the time? Mama was squatting low, keeping her board flat, but she kept reaching over and poking at my knees trying to make me fall over.”

He’s crying, he realizes. Laughing and crying. He wonders how long that’s been going on as he wipes the tears from his cheeks. 

It’s that motion that finally pulls him back into the present. The lodge is empty, there’s a red and white paper tray half-full of fries between him and Lan Zhan that he doesn’t remember either of them getting up to buy, but he can taste the salt on his tongue so he knows he’s eaten some. His laptop is dead, but its battery was low anyway. Still, it must have been at least an hour since Lan Zhan found him here. 

“Sorry,” Wei Ying says, “that was probably a lot more than you were prepared for.”

Lan Zhan’s eyes are rimmed red and it’s possible he was crying at some point, too. He smiles. It’s small but real in a way few smiles are. It makes Wei Ying’s heart jump into his throat. 

“Thank you for telling me about your family, Wei Ying,” says Lan Zhan with an honesty that matches his smile. 

Wei Ying sniffs and rubs his hands against his snow pants. He shakes his head to shake away the ghosts. "You should really come out to one of our sessions some time," he says, gesturing toward the laptop. "You would look great on film."

Lan Zhan doesn't roll his eyes. Instead he looks pointedly toward the black screen where Wei Ying was just editing videos of him falling on his ass.

Another laugh jolts its way out of Wei Ying's lungs. This one isn't sad at all. And Lan Zhan is smiling again.

[bacchuschucklefuck]

pygmalion and galatea for aroace people

you should tell your friends what I look like, riz gukgak.

[unriding]

a … a gift from the talented @kruinka 🥹 thank you so much!! ദ്ദി ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ)

[chiropteracupola]

a beautiful day for everyone on earth who has ever had gay thoughts about the tf2 administrator. a beautiful day. a beautiful day.

[hollyyy555]

me core

[thecringefailintherye]

i want to apologise to everyone ive spoken to in the past 3 days including my space therapist because i've genuinely not shut up about this woman from the bad 2011 reservoir dogs australian remake, i'm madly in love with her

please talk to me about reservoir cats,,, do the loco motion with me 🔥🔥🔥

[sputnikodin]

@seepmost OHHH that's really hard ...... i think going off sheer in-the-moment emotional impact i'd have to say duet. i was crouching on my chair instead of sitting down in it or doing anything else normal by the end of the episode bc it was making me lose my mind so much. so in terms of writing quality that's top notch. progress also made me feel similarly ....... but the episodes i return to the most in my mind are the pilot and necessary evil. i think about necessary evil every single day of my life if we're being honest here

[cutter-kirby]

so watching a video about the no mercy route made me want to try my hand at sans for a bit (i've never beaten him before) and i actually got to phase two today and i was so grateful that i chose to get dunked on this is the greatest day of my life