#and i have a delayed start school day so they wanted to try to go in before school

[nanamisgirly]

cw geto is maybe bi here idk, chubby nerd!reader with a bit of attitude, tbh there's no cw it's borderline between smut and fluff

part.2

˖ 𑣲 comments and reblogs are always appreciated ma girliees :33

womanizer!geto loves fucking women. truly he does! they are all wrapped around his fingers and all he has to do is glancing at them. and this goes for the whole campus!! even boys would fuck him if he'd give them the chance. and maybe, if the mood struck just right at a party or in a messy, drunken threesome/orgies, he does fuck the boys.

but womanizer!geto has also a nerd bestie. the typical nerd girl. she was everything but his type. nothing that looked like his usual hookup girls. she was not fit, but not exactly fat. just chubby. her acne scars from high school still there with still some pimples that comes and go. and of course the infamous nerd glasses that didn't seem to want to stay on her nose.

you were not someone womanizer!geto would ever fuck. that's why you're friends. strictly platonic. he liked how you never batted an eye at his reputation, never judged, never treated him like a conquest. you both grow close through the years together in the same degree, during the late nights session study in the library before exams, for you it was monnnths before exams, you're a little ball of stress.

womanizer!geto doesn't like when guys approached you. not because he cares—why would he? it just...doesn't make sense. you're not the kind of girl men chase. not the kind they brag about. so he makes sure to lecture you about it—especially about frat boys. "they’re the worst," he mutters, arm slung lazily over your chair as his knee bumped against yours under the table. "trust me, nerd. they only act nice 'cause they wanna see how you moan." you rolled your eyes, setting your pen down with an amused scoff. "do you think i've never fucked, suguru?" you shrugged, smirking at his clueless expression "just 'cause i'm shy and a 'nerd' doesn't mean I don't enjoy a good fuck." well, you were lying but he doesn't need to know that. you were probably having sex every couples of months and it wasn't even that good. your voice was light when you added, "thanks for the concern, though." something in his chest stutters. and for some reason, he has to look away.

womanizer!geto has no shame. he lets girls climb into his lap, lets their hands wander, lets them grind against him right on the couch with people around. almost fucking them on the spot. but never when you're around! why? well, he tells himself it's respect. at least, that's the excuse he clings to. because why else would he pull away from a pretty thing palming his cock just to go talk to you? right? he's just...pitying you. that's all. and yet—when he finally starts to feel his cock hardening in his pants, he tells himself it has nothing to do with your wide, innocent eyes blinking up at him. nothing to do with the way your lips part, soft and expectant. his dick is...delayed. yeah. just slow to catch up to the last girl's game. horrible by the way.

and of course womanizer!geto is trying to subtly adjust his pants. he's forcing his mind elsewhere—anywhere else—because if he lets himself think too hard about how fucking pretty you look right now, he's going to have a problem. a big one.

womanizer!geto keeps a polaroid of you in his wallet. only because you are his bestie! don't get any ideas on that. he found the picture cute that's it. the two of you, standing under a canopy of cherry blossom, petals floating around you like something out of a dream. his strong arm wrapped tightly around your plush waist, your round soft tits pressing against his chest. it had been an innocent day. really. he had dragged you out after hours of studying, calling you a nerd and insisting you needed air before your brain cells ended up smeared on the library table. what was supposed to be a thirty minutes walk turned into four hours. and when you reaching this pretty alley he couldn't help but suggest a pic—just for the memory! and obviously his arm was around you only to male sur you both fit in the camera frame. obviously. he was not dying to touch you!

and now here it was. the damn polaroid in gojo's hand. the white-haired menace grinning like he just found the greatest blackmail material of all time. "damn, suguru, you look so whipped." geto's eye twitched.

"look at this! holding our nerd like she's breakable—aww, how so sweet!!" gojo snickered, flipping the photo dramatically. "and—hold on. did she kiss your cheek?" suguru said nothing, jaw locked as his mind instantly flashed back to that moment—how you rose on your tiptoes, one hand pressing slightly on his broad shoulder to steady yourself as you leaned in, brushing a soft kiss to his cheek. he had frozen for a second and he vividly recall your flushed face, wide eyes as you apologized profusely, muttering something about being 'carried away by the moment' and how it was simply a 'friendly' gesture.

his cock begins to stir at the memory of your soft lips against his skin. his heart skipping some beats.

"wait—holy shit." gojo barks out a laugh. "you keep this in your wallet? what, you jerk off to it?" your entire soul leaves your body. geto sees the way your eyes go wide, the way your hands fly to your face in horror.

and that's it. geto slowly stands up, cracking his knuckles and rolls his shoulders. "satoru," he said, voice eerily calm. gojo gulped. he was a dead man walking.

womanizer!geto tells himself he's just messing with you—that the way his fingers linger when he wipes a stray drop of your melting ice cream isn’t because he’s imagining how warm and soft your mouth would feel wrapped around his fingers. he convinces himself that when you lick your spoon, tongue flicking over the tip—his cock is not aching dreaming to be at the metal-stenciled place. and his rock-hard cock has definitely nothing to do with the way your thighs spread soft and full against the couch or the way your tits bouncy sightly every time you shift.

womanizer!geto is totally fine when you stretch on the couch next to him. arms up, back arching, body pushing forward, making your curves more prominent, making that cute little tummy press out—wait what?? geto shook his head trying to get back to his senses. no need to highlight it was impossible with the way his cock twitched in his pants.

womanizer!geto, obviously, does not want something with you..he does not want to bury himself into the plush softness of his nerd best friend, does not want to hear how sweetly you'd whimper his name. she's not his type!!!!

°‧★ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁( 。 •̀ ᴖ •́ 。)

a/n chubby girls are the biggest win 🙂‍↕️☝️

[dreamsteddie]

AITA Steddie Au Part Three

Part Two

Hello! Sorry for the delay! This week was very busy with student conferences and my own midterms so I haven't had a lot of time to work on this. This is more of an interlude building up to bigger things, but I hope you enjoy it!

Also! Get in the comments if you have any ideas of an actual name for this series so I can stop calling it AITA Steeddie Au. I can't think of anything good 😓

------

Eddie takes Steve on that second date.

And then a third and a fourth and eventually he stops counting because he's seeing Steve as often as he can between their jobs and other responsibilities. He feels high off it, giddy with possibility and hope for this new thing that he's never had before.

Eddie has done relationships before, a couple of times. A small handful of boys and girls he took out on dates and tried his best to woo all went up in flames one way or another, but none of those relationships left him feeling so gone so fast. He felt like he was always holding himself back from giving himself up completely, too afraid of falling without a safety net to reach for that deep devotion he's always craved.

Steve makes him feel like they're plunging into that unknown together.

Still, no matter how much he's been trying to avoid it, the looming specter of what the hell to do about his friends is looming over his head.

------

"Are you fucking serious right now dude?" Eddie asks, a complicated mix of righteous anger, humiliation for himself and Steve, and complete disbelief at Gareth's unwillingness to back down from this making it increasingly difficult to keep his cool.

"Look man, all I'm saying is that Steve is like, the complete antithesis of literally everything we stand for. He's a nepo baby business major who's never had an original thought in his life! I would know! I've read one of his papers." Gareth says, forced nonchalance coloring his tone and riling Eddie up even more.

He rears up, shoulders pushing back and hands grasping at the air like he could pull down his frustration from the either and condense it into a solid ball he could lob at Garteth's head to finally knock some goddamn sense into his brain.

"Hey, hey, hey. Okay, Eddie, I'm really sorry about this. It was a fucked up idea, I don't know what we were thinking." Jeff interveins before the frustrated banshy noises Eddie is letting out turn into another yelling match that won't get anyone anywhere.

"I think we just got too caught up wanting to help you get out of this rut and it all turned into something completely insane. You don't gotta forgive us Eddie, but if there's anything we can do to try and make up for it, we'll do it. Isn't that right Gareth?" Jeff pointedly asked with a look that says agree with me right now or else.

Gareth doesn't say anything.

The thing about all of this that Eddie just can't wrap his head around is the why. Why would his friends, his sheepies, do something so cruel? He knows none of them have ever looked kindly at people like Steve. Too many traumatizing high school humiliations behind them all to trust when someone who looks so much like all the guys who bullied them in high school tries to reach out, but Gareth and Jeff have never tried something like this. In fact, it's used to be Eddie doing most of the anti-jock revenge planning back in the day, even if nothing ever actually came from it.

He thought, incorrectly it seems, that they had grown out of the worst of it by now. It's been three years since Garteth graduated, and five since Eddie made his final attempt, and leaving their hometown behind did a lot to heal old hurts.

So why this? Why now?

"Is this seriously how it's going to be man? You won't tell me what the fuck any of this was really about and you're not even going to try and apologize? Seriously?" The righteous anger is starting to seep out of him, leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion.

Gareth just continues to stare at him defiantly, not saying a word.

Eddie pinches his nose and takes a deep breath, "You know what? Fine. Whatever. If this is how it's going to be then I'm out. Jeff, I'll talk to you later, probably not for a little bit though. Gareth?" The other man lifts his head from where he'd been looking down at his shoes. There were tears in his eyes, just a little bit but enough for Eddie to clock it. Face red from some unnamed cocktail of emotions Eddie doesn't have the energy or desire to interrogate right now. "Call me when you're ready to grow the fuck up. I've got a second date to plan."

With that, Eddie turned on his heel and made for the open garage door.

"What about the band, man?!" Gareth called.

Eddie kept walking.

-------

That was over four weeks ago.

He hasn't spoken to Gareth for most of that time. The first couple of days he blew up his phone with angry to half-apologizing texts that Eddie promptly ignored. After the second day, he sent a single text back letting him know he didn't want to talk unless he had a real explanation and apology to give both him and Steve and that he was going to block his number for a little while. He could let Freak know if he was ever ready to talk like adults. Eddie trusted him to tell if Gareth was being genuine.

In other news.

Waking up to strong arms secured around his naked waist is fast becoming Eddie's favorite way to start the day. He and Steve slept together for the first time last week, and since then it's like neither of them can get enough of each other.

"Hey, baby." Steve rasps in his ear, tilting his head down to smear sleepy kisses onto his shoulder. The hand that was resting against his ribs meanders its way down to the trail of hair under his navel, scratching just a little and making Eddie feel like a contented mutt. He's not sure if he should feel horny or like he could sink into the mattress and sleep for another full 8 if Steve keeps holding him like his.

"Mornin' sweetheart." he says deciding that a couple more hours of sleep is definitely the way to go. Steve, it seems, has other idead.

"What you thinkin' about this early in the morning?" He asks, hand continuing to scratch lazily at Eddie's stomach like he's not completely destroying Eddie's will and ability to focus on anything but the warm body behind him.

But it's been a long time coming, and as much as he doesn't want to, Eddie needs to start thinking about what he wants to do about his friends? former friends? estranged family? band and Steve deserves to be a part of the conversation.

Eddie sits up, bringing Steve up with him to rest against the headboard. "I've been thinking about the band. Gareth and Jeff, that is." He pauses, waits for some kind of reaction that doesn't come. Steve looks concerned, but not in the way he thought he would.

"Ok." Steve responds, waiting for more.

"I guess I just don't know what to do." He looks out into the middle distance of Steve's bedroom. Takes in the display of swim, basketball, and baseball trophies displayed proudly on a shelf, catching the early morning light. "I'm still so fucking mad. It's honestly kind of irritating how mad it makes me to think of what they did. It was so fucking stupid."

Steve hums a little, letting Eddie get it out.

"But at the same time I can't help but fucking miss them. Miss the music and the campaigns and everything else." It's honestly been eating him alive, the mix of anger and longing he's been feeling for his friends. The constant longing to go back in time and stop them from concocting this shit show but also, like, stalk Gareth to his 8 AM Business class so he can run into Steve and they can fall in love at first sight or some shit.

Silence.

Steve shifts. Moves so he can look Eddie right in the face. He looks thoughtful in a way that Eddie had to get used to. Sometimes when Steve is thinking hard about something, he scrunches his face in such a way that it makes him look like he's judging you. He isn't, it's just an unfortunate fact of life that his baby has a resting Judgemental Face™.

Steve heaves out a big breath, bringing Eddie back down to earth. "I mean, I don't want to, like, cloud your judgement or whatever but maybe you should try and talk to them one more time. Jeff appologized right?"

And, ok that's definetly not what Eddie was expecting to hear. It must show on his face because Steve is suddenly looking away, embaraced.

"I just..." He trails off, taking his own turn staring out at the dull shine of his old acomplishments. Eddie watches as his face once again turns pensive as he stares harder at the remnents of his high school acheivements.

"I used to be a pretty shitty guy. Did the same kind of shit your buddies did a couple of times." This isn't necessarily news to Eddie. They've talked a little about who Steve was in high school and how much work he put into himself before he decided to go back to college. It's still a bit of a shock to hear, though.

"So I get how someone can make a mistake like that, y'know? So if you want to try and talk it out, I won't be offended. I know we're in this together, now." Peace said, Steve reaches for Eddie's hand and gives it a squeeze.

It hits Eddie again, just how good Steve Harrington is. It hasn't been long, not really, since they got together but they've fallen together so completley, so easily, that it's easy to forget that there's still so much they have to learn, so many layers for Eddie to peal back. Behind every judgemental remark and complaint about the frequent phone calls he gets from chuldren he used to babysit in his hometown is a man who cares deeply and is capable of great forgiveness, even if it hasn't been earned yet.

Eddie squeezes his hand back.

"Are you sure?" Eddie asks.

"Yeah, it's not we have to totally forgive them, right? But I think you need to get a real answer from both of them about why it happened. Maybe you can find a way past it, maybe they'll say something that puts the nail in the coffin." He responds.

Eddie takes a deep breath, and thinks.

Steve is right. Eddie isn't satisfied with any of the answers he got last time, and he knows that there has to be more to the story than "trying to get Eddie out of a rut" and he's not going to be able to put any of this to rest until he understands.

"Ok, yeah. I'll call them." Steve gives him an encouraging smile at that, rubbing the back of Eddie's hand where they haven't let go yet.

"Good, I'm glad. And I can come with you if you want. Hit em from both sides." he says. Eddie think's he'll take him up on that offer, but right now he had more imporant things to do. Namely, tackling his sweet boyfriend onto the mattress and having a mid morning tousle.

"We'll see. Right now I've got more imporant things to do." He says in his best aproximation of a sultry voice. He doesn't know how good it really is, but it seems to work based on the way Steve's eyes get hooded and he looks down at Eddie's mouth.

Gotcha.

Before Steve can lean down and kiss him, Eddie snaps his hands down to his boyfriend's sides in a well executed tickle atack. Steve immedietly jolts and starts howling with laughter, yelling between breaths that Eddie is "a fucking asshole" as he continues his relentless atacks.

Eventually, Steve manages to regain his bearings and go on the offence, turning them over and trapping his boyfriend's hands beneath his knees so he can atack Eddie's equally ticklish sides.

Once the late morning has passes into early noon and they've both settled back into Steve's signifigantly more rumpled be, Eddie takes one more moment to think about the furute to come before he shelves it. He knows that whatever conversation is to come, it won't be easy, and even if things go as smoothly as possible with Gareth and Jeff, things will never be the same between them all.

Looking down at Steve, who is sporting the most outrageous bedhead in human history, laughing at the stream of reals Robin sent him in the middle of the night, he thinks he'll be okay either way.

Tag List

@wheneverfeasible @the-dark-hearts @sofadofax @wrenisfangirling @whatfinestandsfor @lilpomelito @raisedbylibrarians @ollyxar @mugloversonly @xxbottlecapx @hezaaxdexangelous @kimsnooks @that-one-gay-crow @travelingtwentysomething @shoujo-wizard @stripey82 @live-laugh-love-dietrich @cr0w-culture @notaqueenakhaleesi @bookworm0690 @r0seprincess @estrellami-1 @little-annie @dreamercec @tinyplanet95 @rawrx3ky-txt @bexinator3000 @justalittledrainbamage @scarletyeager @themoonagainstmers @yesdangerpls @mydysfunctionallife @maverickricky @silentiumdelirium @i-amthepizzaman @samsoble @foolishness-and-confusion @dragonmama76 @gregre369 @thewickedkat @lexr86 @martinskis-lydias

[writingsonsaturn]

Tim's fiancee gets arrested when a cop (let's say Lucy or someone) (this is after they are rookies) arrests her because she looks like a suspect they already caught, his fiancee told them she was engaged to Tim but they didn't believe her and Tim gets mad at the officer - <3

wrong place, wrong time - tim bradford

{ masterlist }

🪐: very sorry about how long its taken me to write, had a lot of stuff to do this week lol! this ones a little short <333

word count: 850

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Waking up with Tim being gone was normal, even after he had left the military his day continued to start at 6 am sharp. Although on weekends he would cut himself some slack to hold you until you were ready to get out of bed and begin with your various tasks you two needed to get done.

Today didn’t start off any different, waking up only a few hours after Tim had, at a ripe 8:30am.

Rubbing your eyes you flung your legs to your left, your warm feet chilling almost immediately at the cold wooden flooring of you and Tim’s shared bedroom. A shiver shot through your nerves and up your spine, you sighed lightly at the shift in temperature and made your departure to the bathroom.

The spring air seeped into the sunlit room, the fresh morning breeze filling your soul with flowers and bright colors. Music filled the house whilst you finished your morning routine making breakfast and feeding Kojo.

You started out your afternoon deciding to head to the local library, wanting to return a book you had borrowed before you were charged with a late fee. 

The library wasn’t full since it was the afternoon and school was still in session, “hello! i’m here to return a book” you said in a chipper but quiet tone. The librarian smiled and took the book, checking it back into the system and sending you on your way.

Your next stop was a supermarket, you had only a handful of items that were needed. Tim had run out of coffee filters this morning and you needed more shampoo, you also opted to get a new water bowl for Kojo, not that he needed one, you just thought it was cute.

As you walked out to your car you were stopped with a taser pointed directly at your torso, “get on your knees with your hands up!” a woman yelled.

Your confused manor caused your reaction to be delayed, causing the police officer to yell once again. “Get down on the ground with your hands up, now!” you immediately get down to your knees and put your shaking hands up. 

“You got the wrong person, I swear! Call Tim Bradford, he's my Fiancé!” you pleaded, the cop with the name ‘Chen’ on her shirt just scoffed and laughed you off while stuffing you in the back of her squad car.

The ride to the precinct was uncomfortable, the cuffs were digging into the skin of your wrists. “Officer please, I'm not whoever you think I am. All you have to do is call Bradford, he’ll tell you exactly what I'm telling you know” you tried to plead your case once again, but it fell on deaf ears.

“Tim doesn’t have a fiancé, he was my T.O, i think i would know a big detail like him having a girlfriend” she laughed, feeling as though it was ridiculous to even entertain your words.

As you were brought into the station to get your picture taken and be put into holding, Chen passed you onto another officer and went to tell Grey about her catch. 

To Lucy’s surprise everyone had already been packing up the evidence and started paperwork, “what’s going on?” Lucy questioned, “we caught the killer, she was at her parents place shooting up when we got there” Tim explained. Lucy was confused, “so if you caught the killer, who do i have in holding?” the question hung in the air, Tim looking at her with perplexed eyes.

Lucy walked Tim over to holding and that’s where Tim saw you, “oh thank god!” you exclaimed seeing Tim. He hurried over to you taking your cuffs off and waving off the other officers. “Chen, why is my fiancé sitting here in cuffs?” Tim sternly asks, Lucy looks down, stuttering and trying to explain herself.

“Tim it’s fine, she was just doing her job” you did your best to defend Lucy, “No y/n, this is not okay, if it had been anyone else this would be a lawsuit” he turned his body at you but his tone was directed at Lucy.

“Tim i’m sorry, I didn’t know we had already caught the suspect and she looked exactly like our suspect” Lucy tried to explain, stumbling over her words.

“You are going to go to Grey and explain everything, lucky for you, y/n isn’t going to file a report against you” Tim assigned Lucy, to which she scurried away. “Are you okay? oh christ your wrists,” his questions and concerns came at you with speed.

“Tim, baby, I'm okay,” you smiled trying to calm him down. Tim held your wrists in his hands, and kissed them. He hoped his love would be enough to soothe your angry red skin, “i’m sorry, this shouldn’t have happened” he persisted. 

You shut him up with a kiss, “drive me to go pick up my car” your smile made him relax. “Yes ma’am” he laughed, telling Grey where he was going, and walking out hand in hand with you, still profusely apologizing.

[rinniessance]

DADDY'S FAVORITE GIRL ༊*·˚ - step dad!gojo x fem!reader

going away for college, the last thing you expected to come back to in the summer is a new step-dad. and you do not like the dangerous glint in his eyes every time he looks at you.

꒰ warnings: nsfw - dark content - mdni .ᐟ.ᐟ non-curse au. step dad!gojo, stepcest, age difference (reader is implied to be 21, gojo is in his late 30s), dubcon, gaslighting, manipulation, cheating, heavy daddy kink, so many pet names (babygirl, pretty, doll, princess etc.), slight dacraphyllia, slight overstimulation, breeding kink, unprotected sex, virginity loss, corruption kink. plot is kinda messy 'cause i was rushing to get to the smut, sowwy ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১ // word count: 5.1k ꒱ ꒰ notes: i am freely being my most disgusting self, thank you for supporting my little insane brain .ᐟ.ᐟ꒱

going away for college, the last thing you expected to come back to during summer break is a new step-dad. ever since your parents divorced when you were 14, your mom has been single – your teenage years, she dedicated herself to you, protecting you from your scumbag father, focusing on your future. you even agreed to delay your college admittance until you were 20, taking two gap years after your high school to stay at your hometown with her. your mom has the worst case of separation anxiety – which is why maybe you should’ve been more concerned when she gradually stopped texting you as the days went on. you assumed the best – maybe she found a hobby, maybe she reconnected with old friends, maybe she finally realized you are an adult and stopped babying you every waking moment. what you did not expect is for her to get married.

these are the thoughts running through you head as you stand in the middle of your living room, fresh out the airport, gawking at the man sleeping on the couch, and wonder how the fuck that happened. you would’ve honestly screamed and thought this was a squatter, or a robber, if not for all the wedding pictures obnoxiously decorating almost every available surface (god, how many photos do you need?). you try not to think too much about it – the flight was 6 hours, you barely got any sleep sitting to the smelliest man on the planet, and you just want to take a shower and go to bed. just as you start walking off, the front door swings open.

“oh my god, sweetheart, you’re home!” your mom’s voice booms through the quiet room resonating like a thunderclap in the middle of a still field. she runs to you, immediately pulling you into a hug which you happily return. you’re genuinely delighted to see her, albeit feeling a little weirded out by a man she decided to bring home. your mother looks over to the couch, man’s sleeping figure not moving once, and sighs with exasperation. “i assume he didn’t pick you up?”

“no but it’s okay…” you whisper quietly and gesture towards the figure on the couch with your head, “about that, though…”

“yeah, honey, i know, i am sorry i didn’t tell you. everything has been happening so quickly, i haven’t even had time to process it myself!” she squealed like a school girl. “his name is satoru gojo and we met at the charity event i went to six months ago.”

“since when do you attend charity events?” you ask, quirking the brow upwards.

“oh, i didn’t know what to do with myself ever since you moved out so i’ve been trying anything and everything. and look, the results have been phenomenal!” she giggled, frustration she had towards her husband about not picking you up melting away in front of your eyes. god, he really had her wrapped around his finger.

“okay, well, i am kind of tired so i wanted to go to bed. is it okay if we talk about this tomorrow?”

your mom suddenly looks down at her feet, a little embarrassed. what did she do.

“yes, about that… that room was sitting unutilized the whole time you were away so satoru and i thought it would be a good idea to remake it into a home office, kind of. your bed is still in there though! so you can sleep in the room no problem.”

“mom, what the fuck…” you whine. not only your room with all your memories and all your personality was gone and demolished, you now have to sleep in the room that was most likely used by him. “home office” my ass, you thought – your mom would not need it in a million years, and by the way she’s avoiding your gaze in shame, it was definitely not her idea.

“i’m sorry baby, but you’ve been away and…”

you interrupt her with a wave of your hand.

“whatever, i’m too tired to think about it. i’ll take a shower and go to bed, i don’t wanna deal with him until tomorrow,” you sigh with frustration and walk off into your home office, dropping your things on the floor.

what you don’t see as you walk off is the dangerous glint in satoru’s eyes as he listens to every bits of your conversation. you said the last sentence with so much poison, he thinks it might’ve struck him dead. gojo knows it will be difficult to get on your good side now but he likes to play these games on hard mode.

oh, you will be so much fun to break.

gojo satoru is a patient man – when he really wants something, he is content to wait until he gets it. that being the main reason why he approaches you slowly. it’s the next day after you arrive that he has a chance to introduce himself properly.

you leave the room after having the best night’s sleep – you really didn’t mind waking up in the office today, you must’ve been too tired to think straight and threw a fit yesterday. you make a mental note to apologize to your mom later. as you turn into the kitchen, you’re met with the view you wish did not have such a strong effect on you – your step-dad, freshly out of the shower, grey sweatpants low riding on his hips, is preparing what seems to be breakfast.

you’re so fucked.

you try to shake off the feeling of arousal washing over you. you may not have had a chance to have any sexual experiences yet, but you’re not that much of a virgin not to know when you’re feeling horny. you just wish it wasn’t due to the incredibly hot step-dad. the left-over frustration from previous night bubbles up like over spilled champagne and you decide to keep your distance. anger helps you keep yourself grounded, and you maneuver around the man to make breakfast, but you see that he prepared it for you already.

“oh, thank you,” you say quietly as he extends the plate to you.

“you’re very welcome, sweetheart.”

the nickname sends a shiver down your spine.

gojo turns to face you and gives you his breathtaking smile. you want to choke on your toast.

“i wanted to apologize for not picking you up yesterday. your mom told me so much about you, and i was excited to meet her ‘favorite girl’,” his eyes spark with a dangerous glint at the nickname, making you shrink into yourself, “but my work held me up, and then i think i went for a quick nap and… uh… ended up falling asleep,” he says with a light chuckle.

“that’s okay, i didn’t really mind the train ride,” you respond with visible discomfort,

he now stands next to you by the counter, his body heat palpable, melting over you like a scorching son. gojo’s all-teeth smile is gorgeous, frustratingly enough, but it makes your skin crawl: like a prey walking into the carefully designed trap, you can feel your gut asking you to run. it makes sense your mom fell for him so easily.

“will you let me make up for it? let’s go our for a dinner, i’m sure your mom would be delighted to hear we’re trying to get along.”

“i don’t know, i haven’t seen my friends in some time, i think i’ll be hanging out with them for a while,” you shuffle from leg to leg, trying to move away

“that’s okay, we have a whole summer ahead.”

for some reason it felt more like a threat than a promise.

you smile politely back, not knowing what to say, rushing to finish your breakfast. the image of your step-dad, half-naked in your family kitchen talking to you about his plans with you for the whole summer should be weird – it’s difficult to find it weird when the said step-dad is criminally hot, unfortunately.

“i think i’ll go now, thanks for the breakfast,” gojo’s gives you a smile so sweet, it somehow triggers a toothache, and waves you off. since yesterday, he’s been making you feel extremely on edge for no apparent reason, it’s driving you a little insane.

when you come back home that evening, you are greeted by both your mom and satoru with the dinner ready. she babbles about how great of a cook he is, and that she can’t wait until you try it. you politely decline citing that you’re full and quickly leave for your room – satoru’s blue eyes were looking at you with almost an animalistic stare, and you hated that you liked it.

gojo thought things were going well with you – he’s given you the space you need in the first two weeks after you arrived. your mom was overjoyed seeing how deeply satoru already cared about you – making sure you eat in the morning, not letting you go to bed without a meal, always checking on you throughout the day, keeping you safe. you, however, thought it was… weird, if anything, that he was all around you this intensely.

“oh, honey, that’s just how he shows that he cares. he was like that with me as well,” your mom tells you one of the nights when you bring it up. it worries you how easily she takes his side now and wonder if something else is going on.

satoru picks you up when you stay out too late, to the wee hour of the night when the subways stop running; he makes sure you have your nights with your mom, when he doesn’t intrude on your backyard conversations and only adores you pretty features from his second-floor window; he learns what movies and music and tv you like, trying to decipher the person that is you.

he’s been putting all this effort to get to know your every step – then why the fuck does he find you one night you kissing some random boy on your driveway?

you said you were going out today and no pickup was needed – now it makes sense why.

gojo satoru is a patient man. but even his patience can start running thin, trickling like water through cracks in the fingers. hourglass of his kindness has been half full for a while now – it’s about time the sand runs out.

you think a boy like him can give you what satoru can? just you wait and see.

kitchen is uncharacteristically quiet when you walk in. it’s the next morning, and usually by now, satoru would be making breakfast for you. his job is still unknown – you are not sure if he was suddenly called in but the feeling of happy solitude falls over you, even if for a moment.

your mom is gone at least for two weeks for work, you’re dreading the moment you have to be left alone with your step-dad. the look in his eyes yesterday was dangerous, a predator appraising its victim before sinking its teeth in, and you’re happy megumi was able to leave quickly after walking you home. surprisingly, gojo didn’t say you a word when you walked into the house, silently sitting in front of the tv like he didn’t just spy through the window on your kiss with the boy.

air in the room was heavy with tension – you knew satoru was avoiding looking your way, jaw clenched, hands balled into fists. instinctively, you wanted to break the silence, say something to discharge the electricity jumping through the atoms of your stuffy living room air, but ultimately decided against it. you have nothing to say to a man, and it’s not like you needed to justify your actions in front of him anyways. you quickly retreated into the office and avoided him until you fell asleep.

when you woke up to an empty apartment not even fifteen minutes ago, you felt relief. walking into the kitchen and confirming your presence alone, you even felt happy. then what is this weird feeling, almost as if you are missing something, nagging at you? you thought of going out today but now a strange desire to stay at home washes over.

you make breakfast for the first time since you came home (gojo didn’t skip a single day, you have no idea how he kept up with that), and you chastise yourself for feeling weird about cooking for yourself; and you chastise yourself again when your mind lingers on the thoughts of a certain white-haired man; and again when you look at your phone, convincing yourself it’s a bad idea to text him. god, you feel so stupid. didn’t you want him to stop being so unsettlingly sweet and dotting around you all the time?

conflicted by your irrationality once again, you frustratingly take your plate and sit down on the couch. flipping through the netlifx previews, you land on something to distract your mind by. you settle on some true crime documentary and let the horrors on the screen consume you, abandoning for a moment the thoughts plaguing your head.

you’ve been glued to the screen for at least two hours before you heard the jiggle of the keys. like an eager puppy, you waited for gojo to come inside and greet you like he would every day – only for him to completely ignore your presence, beelining straight for the kitchen. turning your head back to the tv, you try your best not to pay any attention to the uncharacteristic behavior from satoru’s end.

“i will be in the home office the whole day, don’t enter.”

before you can respond anything back, your step-dad is already walking off without sparing you a second glance. is he still upset from yesterday? you didn’t think kissing megumi would be that much of a deal. your nervously play with the hem of the blanket, show playing on tv long forgotten, contemplating what you should do next. why are you bothered by his silence this much anyways?

rethinking your earlier choice, you send a quick text to your friend asking to meet you for drinks. maybe right now gojo needs space, or whatever, and leaving him alone is the best next thing right now. you knock at the door of the home office.

“sorry, i am going out now and need to quickly change.”

not even 5 seconds pass before the door is swung open by a man that’s been occupying too much of your mental space today.

“be quick,” is the only response you get before he leaves the room and closes the door behind him. you’re perplexed by this sudden change in behavior yet again. throwing on the first decent outfit you can find, you let gojo know that you’re done and will be home later; hum is the only acknowledgment you get before he disappears in the office.

exiling all the thoughts of satoru gojo from your head, you leave your house, hoping tomorrow will put all the pieces of the puzzle back together.

yet the next day comes, and you still wake up to no warmth from satoru – it felt as if he built a wall between the two of you in one night’s span, impossible to be breached. should you talk to him? should you apologize? and apologize for what? you didn’t do anything wrong, did you? ignoring the gnawing feeling inside once more, you retreat to the living room, sulking on the couch until the end of the day, clawing onto the hope gojo of tomorrow will acknowledge your existence.

“did i do something wrong?”

you stand in the doorway to gojo’s office, arms crossed over your chest. he lazily turns his head your way as if giving you even a second of his time is too much of a bother – the look he sends you is burning through your core, making you pathetically weak and wet.

“no,” he starts slowly, “do you think you did something wrong?”

“i don’t know! that’s why i’m asking. you’ve been ignoring me for the past week, and it’s getting weird.”

“i thought i’d leave you alone, it seems you’re capable of having fun on your own.”

satoru is looking back to his screen now, and you scrunch your eyebrows, frustrated by the riddles he’s throwing your way. walking inside the room, your close the door on instinct and take wide steps to stand in front of him.

“stop answering me like this, we’re not playing a charade. what do you mean?” the demand in your voice is clear, and it twists something inside satoru – his gaze falls on you again yet this time it’s dark, taunting, dangerous, with a hint of chaos. it scares and excites you.

gojo suddenly stands up, and pushes you into his desk until you’re sitting on it. he is tall – your mom basically married a giant – and you try to curl into yourself to escape his malicious eyes.

“what, i thought you wanted me to leave your alone? you want my attention now all of a sudden?” he respond with the question of his own in a mocking tone.

“i never said i wanted you to ignore me…” you answer meekly, yelping slightly as your back hits his desk – you suddenly realize there is nowhere to run now.

“really? we’ve been together in a house for almost a month now, and yet you showed no interest in getting to know me.”

“’m sorry…” you cannot think of anything else to say. gojo moves even closer, and is now towering over you – it makes you embarrassingly horny.

“show me how sorry you are.”

before you can respond, he is caging your body with his and capturing your lips in a kiss, and you freeze – all of this is so wrong, you cannot bring yourself to start moving your mouth against his. gojo’s tongue coerces its way inside, exploring the undiscovered paths, his teeth biting your still lips. closing your eyes, you whimper and try to push him away but he only catches your wrists with his one hand, while the other plays with the hem of your shorts. a gasp escapes your lips, and you push yourself further into the desk, squirming under gojo’s body.

“what, you don’t like it? i thought my little girl wanted daddy’s attention?” he torments you, voice condescending and thick with mockery. all you can muster is a pathetic mewl, words lost somewhere inside your throat, and dig your fingers into the edge of your desk as your step-dad forces his digits inside your panties, lightly brushing against your clit.

“god, you’re already so wet, so filthy,” he whispers between the heated kisses as the pads of his fingers keep teasing your pussy. “tell me, babygirl, are you still a virgin? gotta know how to treat you.”

“y-yes…”

“well, am i just not the luckiest?” gojo chuckles darkly, spreading your legs with his thigh. unoccupied hand goes to grip your hip while the fingers on the other are still working your clit, sliding the digits between your puffy lips, teasing your hole. every time he circles around the entrance and mocks by pushing his finger just slightly inside, the moan builds up in your throat, and you’re too embarrassed to let it out.

“common, baby, your daddy wants to hear you, don’t hide your pretty voice from me.”

gojo is infuriatingly good with his fingers – you could never bring yourself this much pleasure from playing with your clit, and your defiance starts melting away as you find yourself bucking your hips into his hand, whining pitifully. the man completely removes your shorts and underwear, shoving the latter into his pocket – something to remember this moment by.

“god, such a pretty pussy, i can’t believe you’ve been hiding it from me. take off your shirt so i can see all of you, princess.”

immense desire pools between your legs, hunger and lust evident in satoru’s cerulean eyes, now hidden by dilated pupils, and you’re surrendering yourself to him – want makes you delirious, completely erasing your sense of right and wrong. you remove the top, nipples perked and waiting. gojo looks at you in wonder and disbelief – all of that for him? his hand went to squeeze your boob almost on an instinct, rolling the nipple between the pads of his fingers, while sucking on another with his mouth. you drop your head back, losing yourself to the intense pleasure your step-dad’s giving you. seeing as you’re distracted by him playing with your tits, he takes this as his chance to shove two of his fingers inside.

a strangled moan leaves your lips, your hands gripping man’s shoulders.

“ahhh, that hurts, satoru.”

“nah-uh, that’s not what i want to hear you calling me,” he straightens himself and starts scissoring you with his digits. the initial intrusion is painful, you can feel your virgin walls stretching to accommodate for how he’s dragging the fingers in and out, yet the burn is woefully delightful, and you’re getting lost again.

“’m sorry daddy.”

gojo only chuckles – god, you were easier than he expected, so well-behaved and pliable under him.

“that’s right, let daddy take good care of you.”

he speeds up the pace, curling his slender, pretty fingers, brushing the spots you were never able to reach with your own. wet, soggy sounds fill the entirety of the room, air already stuffy with smell of sex as he continues to finger-fuck your pussy. gojo could feel his cock twitching in his pants, he wanted to take you right there and then, but he was determined to make you cum on his digits first – it prompts him to attach his lips to your neck, sucking on the sensitive spot below your jawline, marking you as his.

your mewling turns louder, breathing is getting labored, and it seems your hips have a mind of their own now as they are bucking into satoru’s movements, fucking yourself how you need it. something akin to orgasm starts building up in your tummy – it has never felt this all-consuming, you wonder if you’ve been touching yourself wrong all this time.

“daddy, please don’t – ah! – stop,” is everything you can say in a measly attempt to ask him to speed up. his thumb finds your neglected clit, rubbing tight circles around your bundle of nerves, and picks up the pace, cunt now clenching even tighter around his two fingers, and gojo groans thinking how you’d feel around his aching dick. he adds a third finger – it’s angled so perfectly assault your special spongy spot, it turns your brain into a mush.

gojo pinches your nipple, kissing you to swallow all the lewd moans to himself.

“is my princess close?”

“yes daddy, ‘m so close.”

“common, cum all over my fingers, baby.”

these words finally push you over the edge – your climax washes over you like a cold morning shower, leaving you trembling in gojo’s hold. your legs are trying to close to stop the man from continuing his abuse on your twitching pussy but he is too lost in the feeling of your walls constricting around his fingers to allow you to do that. he fucks you through your orgasm, bringing you to the realm of overstimulation.

“ahh, daddy, please, it hurts now,” you whine with teary voice, beads of salty water gathering in the corners of your eyes.

“shhhh, daddy knows best, yeah? let me feel you a little longer.”

gojo keeps his pace until you’re clawing at his arm, trying to pull away your pussy from his fingers. he grabs you by the back of your head, bruising your lips with the intensity of his kiss – you’re sure he draws blood by how he bites your lower lip, licking the messy aftermath. you’re still whining and mewling, trails of tears finally flowing down your face, and he’s sure he’s never seen anything hotter as he licks the salty tracks.

“you’ve done so good, babygirl, i think you’re ready for the main gift,” satoru says and finally withdraws his fingers. the emptiness is welcoming yet disappointing, and you groan. gojo quickly unbuckles his pants and shoves them down, alongside his boxer briefs, and you almost choke on your spit when you see how well-endowed he is. you don’t have a lot to compare it to but you think his cock is beautiful – it's long and slender, and uncut, prominent vein running all the way from the base to just underside of his head, and you get an immeasurable desire to run your tongue along it.

“is my pretty doll drooling jus’ at the sight of my dick?” he mockingly asks you, making you turn your gaze away. gojo chuckles again, and grabs you by your chin, pulling your head down.

“no looking away, darling, i want you to see how i take your virginity.”

with no other option, you keep your gaze peeled downwards, to where gojo strokes himself couple of times before lining himself up with your leaking hole. despite all the preparation and your previous orgasm, you’re still incredibly tight and satoru groans as he starts pushing himself inside. you can see his smooth cockhead bullying his way into you, stretching your greedy walls – man feels you pulsating around him, and that makes him twitch.

“fuck, princess, you’re so tight, feels so good.”

gojo finally sinks all the way in, your cervix being met in a kiss by a swollen tip, and you moan, sound almost pornographic. your step-dad doesn’t let you adjust before he pulls out almost all the way before sliding back in – he doesn’t go easy on you for your first time, setting up a brutal pace, not caring if you’re ready to take him fully yet. it stings, and you have to hold yourself on gojo’s shoulder’s as he starts fucking into you. his hands are on your hips, guiding them to meet his thrusts.

“daddy please, ‘ts too much,” you cry out but satoru is all too lost in how your gummy walls perfectly hug his swollen cock. he doesn’t respond, shutting you up by forcing his tongue into his mouth yet again, sucking on every piece of available flesh. slowly, the tension in your body melts away and gives way to a new kind of pressure – the one building up in your tummy. you’re shocked at how fast your body is able to start getting on the road to blissful ecstasy again but you’re not complaining.

“shit, are you getting close already, babygirl? i can feel your pretty pussy squeezing me again.”

“yes, sorry daddy.”

“there is nothing to be sorry about, just means your daddy’s doing a good job,” he says with a grin, keeping up the pace, rutting into your sloppy cunt. queefing sounds and slapping of skin on skin make you blush furiously yet you can’t take away your gaze from where satoru keeps burying himself inside you.

the girth of gojo’s cock is deadly – not only he’s able to reach the spongy spot almost immediately, making white spots dancing across your vision, kaleidoscope of pleasure lighting up your every nerve ending, he is also bruising your cervix just with enough pressure to make you twitch in delight. his pubic bone grinds against your puffy clit and it’s setting up fireworks against your skin, hot molten lava igniting your whole being.

your moaning becomes uncontrollable as satoru’s fucking you in an animalistic pace – he keeps splitting you open, the spread of legs is slowly growing uncomfortable.

“look how good you’re taking me, being such a good girl for me,” he’s babbling, edging himself too – he wants to feel you spasming around his cock, he cannot let himself cum before that. “gonna feel so good cumming inside, pretty. give you a cute little brother or sister, huh? what do you think? i bet you’ll look so gorgeous being pregnant with my baby.”

“no, daddy, you can’t do that…”

“hm, why? just imagine, you walking around, with my child inside your belly, all cute and swollen for me, tits full of milk. wouldn’t you want that?”

you hiccup a sob as gojo keeps dragging his heavy cock in and out of you, the vein you saw before pressing against your walls deliciously, and you feel your toes start to curl as your body chases after the second orgasm. you dig your nails into his biceps, certain to leave half moon marks on his porcelain skin, and bite your lip. in turn, he is pressing his fingers against the plum skin of your hips, marking you with bruises to remind you of this tomorrow.

“shit, i haven’t fucked your cunny for that long yet it’s already perfectly snuggled around me. i’m training it fast, huh? i’m gonna teach it to fit only me,” you can hear the grin in his voice as he says that.

gojo feels your walls tighten around him – he can see you’re teetering on the edge of climax, whining and moaning under the man, letting him completely use you – so he picks up the speed, assaulting your abused pussy. it doesn’t take longer than that for the tension in your tummy to snap, and you’re wantonly crying out satoru’s name.

“fuck, dollface, you’re squeezing me so perfectly right now. want to milk me for all i’ve got?”

you’re cock drunk, unable to respond to him, hoping your mewling will be enough for the man to see he fucked you stupid. he is not showing signs of slowing down – you can only continue whining as satoru chases after his own pleasure. he pistons his hips couple of times more, and you can feel him throbbing inside as he shoots creamy ropes of cum inside you, painting your womb white. the ring of mixed fluids at the bottom of his cock drives him insane, and he continues fucking his cum into you.

“shit baby, can’t waste a single drop now, can we.”

you’re letting out a quiet sob, pleasure too overwhelming and almost feverish, still unable to find your voice. when he deems it satisfactory that his seed is all warm inside you, gojo finally pulls out and kisses the top of your head.

“i’d say this was a good practice run, what do you say? your mom only comes back in a week, i’ll make you my personal cumdump until then.”

you snap your head up at his words, the smile playing on your step-dad’s face borderline sinister. you think it’s supposed to make you scared, then why is your pussy already twitching around nothing?

“yes daddy, anything for you.”

[gyuswhore]

Fifteen to Forever

"I can’t not be happy when I know I have you."

PAIRING: hockeyplayer!choi seungcheol x f!reader

SYNOPSIS: Fifteen was the age you had met Choi Seungcheol at a school hockey game. Forever was the age you would find yourself spending with him.

CONTAINS: fluff, angst, smut (MINORS DNI), growing up, tears (a lot), distance, this is so emotional you will be in your feels, kissing, p in v sex (unprotected), clit stimulation, handjobs, happy endings bc we love them, i think that's it

WORD COUNT: 6k

masterlist

[AN]: thank you so much @ressonancee for birthing the idea of hockey player cheol in the first place, reading over some of the bits and helping me w some of the plot!!! ty for letting me ramble in your dms lol. hockeyplayer!cheol WILL reappear in other fics bc I'm obsessed with the idea, for now, I hope you enjoy this angsty fluffy creation <33

It wasn’t until the last echo of the slammed car door had faded that you realized, yes, mom, I do actually want you to go in with me. 

But alas, as the last tresses of exhaust from her car fade into nothingness, you accept that you’d have to do this alone. Gripping the straps of your brand new backpack helps you ground yourself as the increasingly erratic breathing takes over you. It sinks in now that you’re alone. 

There’s a honk, and you realize you’re still frozen in the drop-off zone, the mom in the Subaru not appreciating the 7 AM delay to drop off her own high schooler. You wonder if her kid would let her drop them off inside. 

Scurrying into the entrance of the open gates, you find the courtyard full. Huddles of teens laughing and yelling despite the early morning hour, not a spare square foot on the grass. You try to find someone who looks like an adult but fail, hoping you’ll be luckier once you’re inside the building. 

You do find yourself lucky as you find a line of teachers at the entrance, ready to greet the new batch of freshmen on their first day of high school. There are a few other kids who look as tense as you, but you feel better with the way the administrator pats your shoulder as she hands you your schedule, assigning you to a lanky sophomore to show you around the building that’d become your second home for the next four years. 

Jeonghan tells you his name as he leads you into your homeroom, where you deposit your bag before going back out. He’s peculiar, you decide. He tells you to never walk without looking at the floor on Monday mornings to save your shoes from the occasional start-of-the-week breakfast hurl. He tells you in the cafeteria that the lasagna was horrible, but not the sloppy joes; the sloppy joes were good. He tells you in the gym that the coach would let you off if you rubbed a little eyeliner under your eyes, “he’s an empath.” 

By the time he’s listing off clubs and teams, you feel a little less nervous, pushing you back into your fuller homeroom with a sign-up sheet and a goodbye. You don’t get to say thank you. 

Kwon Soonyoung slips into the empty seat next to you, introducing himself a little louder than you’d anticipated, but you suppose you needed the enthusiasm. He innocently slips you his home number and hopes out loud that you’d be the best of friends. 

You get in the car that afternoon, responding with a wider-than-expected smile at your mother inquiring about your day. 

“It was great! I think I’ll like it here.”

You found it strange that the rink was so packed for a high school hockey game, but that was before you saw the ten-foot banner and face paint. Soonyoung sits on your right as Jiwoo places herself on your left, both donned in blue and yellow, sandwiching your uncoordinated outfit. For whatever reason, you’d thought movies exaggerated the hype around high school sports, yet the support for the boys entering the rink roars into your ears to prove you wrong. 

They win, and with the way the rest of the team pats him on the back after sending in the last puck, you assume it’s all thanks to the boy with the Choi on the back of his jersey. 

He removes his helmet, hair flopping into his eyes as you realize you know him. He was always in the cafeteria with Jeonghan, the boy who gave you a tour on your first day, along with many other boys from his year. It was hard not to notice them with the ruckus they were always causing, yet you found them easy to drown out with the rest of the noise. 

“What’s his first name? The guy with the 08 on his back?” you ask Soonyoung. 

“Oh, that’s Seungcheol. Dude’s a fucking progidy or something.”

“Prodigy,” Jiwoo corrects. 

“Yeah, that. Jihoon said the only reason they got to finals last year was ‘cause of this guy.” 

You watch as he drinks from his bottle from the benches, smiling at his coach and teammates as they debriefed. At least you were guessing that was happening; the only thing you were thinking about was how you could hear his laugh from where you sat. And how it was making you smile, too. 

You stare at your worn shoes that glow in multicolors as the beats in the gym warp and stagger through the speaker. You’re on your third punch, finding yourself awkward without something to occupy at least one hand. 

You had danced a little with Jiwoo, watched with bright eyes as Soonyoung dance off-ed yet another senior to his victory, giggled as you let another freshman, Jun, take Jiwoo away for the next dance. You now lace the edges of the party, taking a breather as you down the remnants of your punch, already trailing the memorized path to the snack table. Maybe you’ll try some of the lemonade this time. 

There’s already somebody occupying the lemonade cooler when you get there, back to you as you patiently wait for him to finish up. He moves away, leaning against the table. He takes a sip from his cup, and you move forward to fill your own. 

It’s Seungcheol. You recall his name as you recognize his face. He somehow looks as haphazard as you last saw him from yesterday’s hockey game. 

If he had come in with a tie, it’s long gone as he has his collar popped and shirt unbuttoned the first few steps. It doesn’t end there as you note the hair that dresses his eyes, soaked in what you cannot imagine is water with the way you saw someone with a similar build typhoon across the floor with nearly as much vigor as Soonyoung has had tonight. 

He’s downing the cup in haste, and you take a sip of the slightly tart drink as you debate if you should say something. 

“You did really well yesterday. Congrats,” you decide to say. 

He emerges from his cup to acknowledge you sipping on your own lemonade, “Oh, thanks. Were you there?” 

“Oh, yeah, I was. First hockey game, went with my friends,” you let out a little chuckle, not understanding why you suddenly felt so awkward. 

“Cool,” he answers plainly, mouth glistening and posture stagnant. “You’re friends with Soonyoung, right? Seen him hang around Jihoon a lot.”

“Yeah, he’s — he’s friends with everybody,” you laugh a little, and you hear him laugh with you. 

“How do you handle him? He’s giving a run for everybody’s money out there,” he gestures to the dance floor with a smile. 

“He mellows out after a while; he’s just excited,” you say, understanding his bewilderment.

“How’re you finding high school so far?” he asks when he runs out of things to say, yet forgets that he can easily excuse himself. But he doesn’t.

“Pretty alright. I’m having fun so far.” You don’t need to ask him the same, knowing well that the sophomore was having the time of his life.

“Good to hear, hope it stays that way for you.”

It’s another painful five seconds before you see Jiwoo waving at you from afar, pointing at something Soonyoung is doing. 

“Uh, I’ll see you around, my friend’s waving me over–”

“Oh, sure, uh, I’ll see you around.”

You give him one more tight-lipped smile as you wave from waist length before retreating. 

“Wait!” 

You turn around at his voice. 

“I never got your name.”

Seungcheol took you on your first not-date in the spring.

Not-date because neither of you had labeled it as such, but you were pushed to reconsider when both Jiwoo and Soonyoung insisted.

He had brought his car that you slipped into after school to drive to the movies, where he bought you popcorn and paid for both of your tickets. He held your hand as you walked out of the theatre, wide-eyed and all smiles as you discussed the film you had just sat through for two hours. 

His palm fit in yours like it belonged there, and maybe it was your fifteen-year-old brain talking. Still, you never expected to be this comfortable with him — especially after the possible insinuation your friends had instilled. 

He drove you home that night as you searched for a million excuses to stay a little longer in his car as he parked in front of your door. But alas, you open the car door at the end of the night and are surprised to find him doing the same as he walks around to where you get out. 

“I had a lot of fun today,” you say in your rehearsed line.

“Me too,” he smiles. “The weather’s getting nicer, we should see the cherry blossoms next weekend. If you wanted to. We can take the car again.” 

He didn’t kiss you, at least not on the lips as he hugged you at your front door and pressed his lips to your cheek. 

You were quick to squeak out your goodbyes after that happened, slamming your door shut as you vaguely heard him drive off. 

With a hand to your racing heart, you count to ten. Perhaps you’d reconsider that not-date after all. Besides, you had cherry blossoms to look forward to. 

Choi Seungcheol kissed you, really kissed you, when he brought the team to the cup they missed out on last year, throwing himself at you as soon as you appeared before him. He was sweaty, half-dressed in his gear with his skates still on as he embraced you tighter than anyone ever had before. 

He put his lips on yours the second he saw your face as you pulled away, unable to help himself despite the groans and retches of his teammates, despite the fact that an entire bleacher’s worth of people saw you both. 

Not that either of you cared; you were just happy he didn’t have his mouth guard on (and that he kissed you before you couldn’t help it yourself).

It was in your junior year and Seungcheol’s senior year that you began to hear the absurdities about the strength of your relationship, that you wouldn’t make it, that high school sweethearts never do. 

With shaking hands, you grip your boyfriend’s arm as he has a conflicted look in his eye. 

“No,” you say. You wonder where all of this strength was coming from when you all wanted was to cry. “You’re gonna go. You will go. I won’t let you throw all of this away because of something that’s never gonna waver.” 

He’s silent as he refuses to meet your gaze. The voices were getting to him, his older college friends laughing when he suggested that his relationship would last both college and the distance it would bring. He realizes he’s not so sure anymore. 

He sits cross-legged in front of you on your bedroom floor, mentally prepared to walk out for the last time. 

“You’re supposed to be happiest about this; I don’t understand why you insist I leave. And so far away?” he looks slightly bewildered. 

“Because you’ll regret it if you don’t. This isn’t about me, Cheol, it’s about everything you’ve worked for all these years—”

“Us, what about us? I’ve worked on us, too.”

“Why have you gone years without listening to a word what other people say to only listening to them now?”

“Was it just me, then? Because it feels like I’m the only one worried about our future together—”

“Choi Seungcheol, stop right there.” Your voice is brittle, and you don’t know how long you can keep the tears at bay. 

“I…I don’t know what to think,” his shoulders slump even lower. 

His hockey scholarship would take him so, so far away. He thought you were strong enough for this, but with every anecdote, every comment, every dejected “have it your way” to his resilience, he wonders if the both of you would be forced to fight a losing battle if he left. 

There were sports universities here at home, but there was no you with his scholarship. 

“I’ll tell you what to think. Will you listen to me?” 

Slowly, but surely, he nods. 

“You can get the scholarship you’ve always wanted, and we can stay as we are, although a little farther away.”

He looks like he wants to say something but doesn’t.

“I believe in us. And if you don’t right now, I’m ready to believe for the both of us. We’ll get through this.” 

In the end, Seungcheol believed you over everything the world told him, praying he wouldn’t let you or himself down as he laid with you on the last night he’d call his bedroom home. 

Graduation was a happy endeavor, momentarily forgetting what lay ahead as he enjoyed his last hours with all his friends in one place. The heavy feeling returned as the night progressed, agreeing to spend the night with him, tucked under his covers as you listened to his heartbeat. You wonder how long it will be until you're able to do this again. 

As you lay in his stripped bedroom, there’s little either of you say, an unspoken agreement to not sleep, not tonight. He has an early morning, but he doesn’t really seem to care as he continues to fiddle with your hair, kissing you at intervals like he's trying to bring back the feeling when it begins to fade. 

There’s little you can talk about when you’re trying to memorize each other’s scent. You remind yourself to give him your sweater when morning comes, already noting the hoodie you need to remember to pick up, the lone one he left you in his closet. 

But as the first rays of sun peeked through the blinds, sending stripes of sun into the bedroom, you tried not to feel the hard clench of your heart as the bare room came into sight. Despite the snoozing of alarms, the multiple knocks on his door, and the dawn of a new day, you let yourselves have an extra five, ten, fifteen, twenty minutes. 

Just you and him before it would be you, and it would be him.

Seungcheol called you more than you called him. It was everywhere, even if it was just to say a quick “I love you” before a game, to hear your voice before he went to class, to listen to you complain about an assignment before he had to do his own. 

As resilient as you showed yourself to be, you’d be lying if you said there was a part of you that was afraid of how much faith Seunghceol held for the both of you, but at ease you were with the constant bugging he’d do and the bugging he seemed to appreciate back. 

By Christmastime, he’d texted you his itinerary for the holidays, explaining how he couldn’t spare a second to things like thinking. Most of his list involved spending all day rotting indoors with you. 

As much as Seungcheol had hoped you’d pick a college nearer to him, he was less scared when you finally announced your college decisions close to graduation. The past year had proved a lot, mostly that you both were stronger than the distance. Which is why he was the first to congratulate you when you got into the college of your choice, despite the fact that you’d be even farther away, leaving home in what felt like the opposite direction to him. 

You were scared too, mostly of how Seungcheol would react, but seeing the smile break out on his face when you told him gave you all the reassurance you needed. That summer brought you the best memories of your teenage years, with Seungcheol, preparing for you both to leave. Except this time, the air was less tense, fewer tears shed, fewer solemn goodbyes at airport gates, and less desperation in both of your hearts. A surety that you’d come back to each other. 

Seungcheol was offered a contract with his dream hockey team when you were on the cusp of your final year. He told you nearly two weeks after he received the first email, not believing it until he was pestered to do so by the representative. 

You cried on the phone that night, the ache in your chest unbelievably present as you wished you could hug him at that moment. He denied his own tears, but you knew his glassier-than-normal eyes weren’t just through the camera lens. You told him you were proud, you told him this was only the beginning, that you needed to sit in the bleachers with his jersey on for every game he’ll ever play, that he was about to have an entire career to be proud of soon. 

He let a couple tears slip. 

And when he showed up to your graduation, sitting next to your family, you gave him the biggest hug you could muster from your bones. That year may have been the last you’d have to endure apart, but it was somehow the hardest. 

It was in that moment, when you pulled away to look at his smiling face, that the years registered in your mind. 

You’re fifteen again, seeing Seungcheol for the first time, donning the features he hadn’t grown into yet, the features you hadn’t grown into yet. You have to tiptoe to meet his lips now, see a man where there was once a boy, the deep set of maturity behind his pretty eyes. 

When he drops the last of your boxes into his — your shared apartment, you’re brought to the stark realization that you're going to stay here.

It’s when you’re unpacking your toothbrush, placing it in the cup right next to his that you realize you could do whatever you wanted with each other without having to work around flight schedules. It’s when he’s hobbling around wooden planks and screws in the bedroom, putting together the brand new queen-sized bed to replace his too-small twin, that you realize that you weren’t here for the week, or for the month or for any set amount of time; you were here forever.

At least that’s what you hope as you watch him collapse the last of the cardboard boxes to recycle, shoving in the corner of the entryway, leaving that job for tomorrow. 

By the time you emerge in the living room after a shower, Seungcheol has already begun to unpack the delivery food on the coffee table. It’s an array of delicious smells, slightly soggy food, and mounds of styrofoam and plastic wrap; a feast for your tired, tired bodies. 

The dumplings are amazing, and the warm feeling in your chest expands as you realize you can now order them whenever you like. 

Seungcheol picks out the chopped chilies from his food, migrating them onto your own plate as he talks about his next practice session without interruption. 

A thought occurs to you in that moment as you watch him down his cola. “Hasn’t coach put you on a diet plan?” 

“Yeah,” he says normally. You merely stare at him, not understanding how any of this junk could be any good for his form, especially when you know he’s good about abstaining when it comes to training. 

He smiles at the questioning look on your face, setting down his utensils, “It’s our first meal, in our first home. I think we deserve to share this with each other.” 

A smile breaks out on your face at the thought of this being your first meal, the first of many meals together in this home. Of all the meals you’ll share in every home after this, every day. 

And while Seungcheol finds himself sacrificing his diet to enjoy all of this greasy grub with you, you will also find yourself occasionally sharing his awfully bland chicken breasts and salads. All to share with each other. 

Walking into the bustling restaurant in your uncomfortable shoes and your arm around Seungcheol’s, you’re quick to find the group you’re looking for. 

The noise is a dead giveaway, and you quickly realize they haven’t changed. 

You hear Soonyoung before you see him, his distinct laugh echoing the loudest across the sea of mingling heads. A loud banner hangs at the end of the room with your high school grad year. 

You detach from Seungcheol as he finds his junior friends, and you find yours, taking both Soonyoung and Jiwoo into a bone-crushing hug. It’s been a while since you last saw them. The crowd of familiar faces greets you, making small talk with everyone as they introduce you to their partners and even their children. You’ve grown; all of you have. 

“Seungcheol’s here too. You guys were together in high school, right?” somebody asks you at some point during the night. “He graduated before us, though; wonder who he’s here with.” 

You don’t blame them for assuming, considering both of you have been in your own circles all night. That, added to the obvious assumptions of high school sweethearts, you only laugh a little as you reply with a wider-than-usual smile. 

“Oh, he’s here with me,” 

You go home with a permanent smile stuck to your face, talking more animatedly than usual in the car ride home. Seuncheol mirrors your smile as he listens. 

Your good mood prevails for the rest of the night, even as you slip under the covers, ready to end the night on a happier-than-usual note. Seungcheol is reading his book when you crawl under his arm, head on his chest, and your arm slung across his torso. You feel his lips on the top of your head, the faint sound of his book being placed on the bedside table.  

“What’s got you so smiley?” he asks with one of his own.

You shake your head as you reply, “Nothing. I’m just happy I saw Soonyoung and Jiwoo.”

“I’m glad you saw them too. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

You hum in response, suddenly remembering a conversation you had. “You know, Jess asked me who you were there with.” 

“Figures,” he shrugs before laughing a little.“How much did she hesitate before asking you?” 

“Looked like she was holding it in for a little bit. Don’t blame her, though. She probably thought we ended it in epic teenage fashion.” 

He snorts at that, “Probably would’ve if you didn’t talk some sense into me.”

“Probably would’ve if you didn’t trust me like you did,” you crane your neck to look at him. 

“Glad I wasn’t that far gone,” he whispers, a faraway look in his eyes despite looking directly at you. “Haven’t doubted us ever since.”

There’s that warm feeling that spreads throughout your body, an overwhelming feeling of contentment coming over you. There was nothing, nothing, that could convince you to be anywhere else, especially anywhere that wasn’t in his arms. 

“Sometimes…well, a lot of the times, I think about us,” you start. “I thought us hitting six months was enough to tell me I’d be with you forever.” 

He smiles at the thought of high school you, starry-eyed, awkward little kids. He remembers the way you blushed when he kissed you for the first time in front of the whole school, the heat that had risen to his own face at the time. 

“And then we hit a year, and then two years,” you remember every surprise for every anniversary, from when you’d collect your allowance for weeks to get him something he’d like. 

“And then college happened. I tried being so positive, but I had never been more scared for us. I hope we never have to go through something that hard ever again.” You almost sound like a child not wanting to go to the doctor’s office, but with the way you feel yourself tighten your grip around him, you don’t think it’s any different. 

You can feel your eyes begin to well, and your voice begins to shake. It was nearly comical how quickly the smiles were turning into sentimental tears. 

Seungcheol places a kiss on your lips, and you know it was meant to be reassuring, but it only wrenches open the floodgates. The tears begin to make their way down your face, sniffles muffled as you go back to burying your face in his chest, his shirt soaking the wetness. You can feel a rumble in his chest as he laughs at your state. He’s also squeezing up your sides and placing kisses in any place he can reach. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you murmur into his shirt. 

“It’s okay. Today was very reflective,” he reassures, letting you stay hidden. 

“I just—” you sniff. “I just wanna stay happy like this all the time.” 

It’s only then that he guides your stained face away from his shirt to bring you to look at him, wiping the remnants of your tears as you try to keep the fresh ones at bay. “We’ll be happy, even when we’re sad. I can’t not be happy when I know I have you. I love you too much for that.”

“I love you,” you whisper into his lips, arms around his neck as you pull yourself to him, chest to chest. You kiss him properly, pecking him a few times to have your fill. 

And then he’s pulling away, ever so slightly to bring a bare millimeter of gap between your lips. His hands burn where they rest, one on your waist, one on your thigh. He’s breathing hard. Both of you are. 

“I’m gonna say something so not fit for right now,” he breathes.

You can’t help but freeze in his hold as you register his words, hesitating before you ask. “What?”

“Marry me.” 

It comes out as the same whisper, directly into your lips as he utters the words. Like he was keeping a secret from the walls and the furniture, like they were only meant for you; because they were only meant for you. Your heart stops, and you vaguely wonder if you’re breathing at all. 

“I—” he takes a long, shaky breath from his nose. “I was supposed to do this a little differently, but…”

You watch him reach over into his bedside drawer, the one you never touch, and bring out the smallest velvet box. Opening it reveals the prettiest, most delicate diamond you’ve ever seen, the jewel glinting and sparkling even in the dim bedroom lights. 

That’s when you let out a tiny gasp, feeling the tears return, dripping down your face one after the other. “Choi Seuncheol, you bitch.”

You’re sobbing at this point, and it has him sitting up straighter, leaving the box to the side as he lurches for you when you pull away. 

“Wait, fuck, sorry, I thought,” he exhales in frustration, hands trying to pull yours away from your face as you cry into your hands. He sounds desperate. “I got carried away, I don’t know what I was thinking—”

“No, it’s not that,” you finally manage through hiccups. 

“Yes, of course, I’ll marry you, I’m just fucking emotional.” 

You hear him laugh again, no doubt out of pure relief, as he nearly doubles over at the situation. 

You’re a little calmer as you continue to sniffle, watching him with a half-disgruntled, half-amused expression, “Put it on, stupid, or do I need to cry again for you to do that.”

You don’t need to tell him twice as he slips the ring on your finger, the perfect fit, the perfect jewel, the perfect ring. 

Bringing him closer, you kiss him again, lips pressed hard on his as you try to communicate every last emotion into it. You’re out of words, and you hope he knows what you're feeling. You know he knows; he always knows. 

He’s reciprocating with the same vigor, arms coming up to wrap around you so tight it pushes you flush against his body. He nips at your lip, running his tongue over it for good measure before letting it enter your mouth. You let him take the lead, let him guide you through every motion, every step forward. 

You’re putty when he pulls off your clothes for you, feeling your heart scream in protest whenever he pulls away to get rid of the obstructions. Your emotions were in a delicate place, and you suddenly couldn’t handle not being able to feel him against you consistently. 

He does well to make it quick, moving back on top of you to occupy your mouth once more. He tries to migrate lower, latching onto your neck to continue his ministrations there, but you don’t let him as you pull his face back to yours again.

“I love you,” you whisper against his mouth before latching onto his lips.

He lets out a low grunt, pulling away for breath as he whispers it back, “I love you more.”

If you won’t let his mouth move, you let his hands do whatever they wish, feeling them move lower against your sides to reach your hips. His thumbs draw circles on them as he slowly moves his hands to where you can feel the arousal grow. 

His fingers hit your bare heat as he plunges them into your folds, encasing your clit between his fingers. He drags them up slowly before moving back down, all the way to your now sopping hole to brush against the opening. 

You sigh against his lips as he pushes his finger in slowly, lips releasing yours as you throw your head back to feel his digit around your walls. He pushes a second one in without hesitation, and you know he’s just as desperate as you right now. 

He’s only two fingers deep, and yet you feel yourself beginning to come undone. He always knew what to do when he wanted to stretch you out faster, always knew what to do when he wanted to draw the pleasure out, keep you writhing for hours. 

Right now was different; it felt like he was holding himself back to the point where it was almost painful. If he wasn’t worried about the stretch, he would’ve buried himself inside you already, and yet, when he feels you clench undeniably hard around his fingers as you orgasm, he feels like he might’ve cum himself. 

His low moans echo off the walls with your louder, more desperate ones, riding out your high as you feel him bring his other hand up to rub your clit in fast circles, making the pleasure last. Coming down from your high, you feel him pause for a moment as he peppers kisses on your face, down your jaw and neck, finally coming to press his lips against yours. 

“You okay?” 

You nod in response, already grasping at his boxers to yank them down. Despite having just orgasmed, the satisfaction is yet to come, needing to feel him inside you before you combusted entirely. 

He helps as he discards himself of the final obstruction, letting you stroke his painfully hard member in your hands. The face he makes is heavenly as you watch him feel your hands wrapped around him. The impatience takes over as he finally removes your hands, instead pinning them beside your head as he guides himself to your entrance. 

Seungcheol goes back to planting himself onto you entirely, knowing exactly what you wanted from him, needing to feel him against you so flush and tight. He lets you wrap your hands around his neck as he finally begins to push himself into you, letting his tip graze the beginning of your entrance. 

He breathes into your neck in deep, deep exhales, trying so hard not to cum before he’s even entered you entirely. He takes his time pushing into you, focusing on your fingers as they play with his hair, your palms running down his shoulder blades in a pathway. He closes his eyes as he sheaths himself in you completely, continuing his steady breaths to not come undone before you. 

He begins to move when he feels like he’s gotten a hold of his bearings, feeling you hold onto him as he starts thrusting into your cunt. The sounds you make are bliss; the feeling of every inch of your skin on his is making him lose his already lost mind. 

Your arms drop when they can’t hold onto him any longer, your hands remaining on him regardless, in some way or the other. Seungcheol takes hold of your hand, emerging from the crook of your neck to bring it to his mouth. He kisses it, your palms, the back of your hand, your fingers, directly over the rock he slipped on you himself. 

The tenderness of his actions makes your brain rattle against your skull, the building feeling in your abdomen coming so close to collapsing into release. You find yourself pushing yourself up on your elbows, face finding the crook of his shoulder as you push yourself back into him when pulled back in the slightest. 

You’re so close now, so, so close. “Cheol,”

“I know, darling. Cum for me, baby, I’ve got you, I’ve always got you.”

You release to the sound of his voice, the words that tumble from his desperate mouth, the feeling of his own cum shooting inside your spent walls. He continues to thrust into you as you both let out the loudest moans of the night, letting yourself get wrapped up in the feeling of each other before you lose your peak. 

You register nothing as you feel him drop his weight on top of you, letting the moment pass. 

Despite having had nights rougher, more lengthy than this, you somehow feel more spent than you have at the end of any of those escapades. The answer comes to you in the few minutes it takes for you both to catch your breath, Cheol being just as fatigued as you despite his athlete stamina. 

You feel him continue to press his lips onto your skin, letting you do the same to him in between kisses. Neither of you speak for another few minutes, letting the heaviness of your hearts come forth in the showers of love you seem to want to give each other. 

He’s grasping your left hand, toying with the ring fitted there. “I can’t wait to spend forever with you.” 

A picture of the both of you hangs on the wall in your bedroom, dim yet decipherable in the low lights. There’s a moment where you have a flash of that same photo on multiple different walls. Different shades of neutral, in different rooms in different houses. It’s the same picture. 

You think of what forever might hold for the both of you, separately and together. You let the prospect of every step, every change, and every milestone wash over you in waves that keep coming, crashing back to feed into another. 

Change, you rehearse. There had been lots of it, and yet you had merely scratched the surface of what life was about to throw at you. You knew that, Seungcheol knew that. But you found yourself, in that moment, convinced in entirety that change is good, whether it feels good or bad. 

Distance makes the heart grow fonder; you didn't realize the meaning of the phrase until you had to live apart from the love of your life. Painful, difficult, sometimes agonizing, yet also necessary, you conclude. You wonder if your love would ever have grown this deep if you hadn’t felt life without each other. 

You think of how far you’ve come, how you’ve grown with each other. There was an encompassing of gratefulness that came with every step you had taken, and with every step you would take henceforth, you knew that for certain. 

Perhaps you would find yourself voicing these emotional thoughts to him, but not now. The unspoken was louder than anything you could say. 

“I can’t wait to spend forever with you, too.”

taglist (strikthru could not be tagged): @rubyreduji @vampirexlotita @simqly-yunjin @tomodachiii

[flippinpancakes64]

i would like The Cullens with an Insomniac! Reader who keeps getting more overworked and can’t sleep due to it, and I would wonder how would they react when the reader gets even more work.

The Cullens with an Overworked! Reader

I am so sorry again for the delay everyone. It’s been a big change for me moving into the dorms and whatnot. I have another story that I’m currently working on too but it’s taking a while so I’m writing this one too.

Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy!

Edward:

You call him a hypocrite

He’s always so worried about you overworking yourself

But he can’t acknowledge that he does the same thing

His argument is that he doesn’t need rest

But you do

He does his best to force you to relax

He picks up some of your homework, cleans your house for you, forces you to go to bed

But even he can’t stop exam season

When your teachers start giving you more stuff to do every day he honestly gets pissed

But he keeps himself cool

He just picks it up for you

Basically he doesn’t let you overwork yourself

Go to bed

He’s got this

Alice:

She just sort of takes your work

Like you could be working on your fifth work page of math for the night and she just… snatches it

It’s not that she doesn’t take no for an answer

She just straight up doesn’t ask

She’s worried about you

And she tells you all the time

Harps on you pretty often to go to bed

And she is not above sneaking melatonin into your food

She’s done it before

She will do it again

And if you ever even think about taking on more work, she shuts that down instantly

If you picked up an extra project at school or joined another club she is pissed

Like you do not have time for this

If you insist on doing whatever you were doing, she will help

She wants you to be happy more than anything else

Jasper:

He’s the most unfair probably

He doesn’t even try to argue with you about it

He just uses his ability to make you calm and sleepy

Boom problem solved

As for workload

He just does it

Like he takes your work and he does it for you

Does not let you take on more stuff

Like before you can go ask the teacher for more stuff or volunteer he stops you

And if your teachers start dumping more, he just does more of your work

He’s in problem solving mode

Rosalie:

She’s a little pissed off tbh

She would love to be able to go to sleep

And the fact that you’re not doing that frustrates her

Also the fact that you seem to refuse to take care of yourself

You’re pushing yourself in ways that she would

And she’s inhuman

She literally shreds your homework

And then she tells the teacher to back off

Problem solved

And you can’t even think about doing more because she shuts that down just as quick

She wants you to be happy and healthy and sleep well

Emmett:

He doesn’t really understand the thought process behind it

All he knows is that you’re not cuddling with him at night because you’re at your desk

And he won’t stand for it

Is not afraid to drag you away from your work

And if you try to argue he just hits you with the sad eyes

Again, if you get more work, he’s just confused

Like you’re already pulling all nighters, how the hell are you gonna make more time for more shit????

He just does the same thing

He pulls your ass away and back to bed

Esme:

She’s so concerned

She asks Carlisle about what to do for you all the time

I mean, it’s been years since she’s felt the stress of work

So she doesn’t really get it

All she knows is that your eye bags are getting bigger by the day and she can’t stand it

She does her best to kindly encourage you to go to sleep

But when that doesn’t work she just tries her best to help you where you’re at

Doing some of your work for you

Bringing you food to your desk

Maybe making a couple of heated phone calls to your boss

Carlisle:

Probably the best one for this

But then again he is just the best 💙

Anyways

He’s a problem solver

He works with you on how to reformulate your schedule to make it less stressful for you

And he’s of course has all of the medicine you could ever need to go to sleep

He’ll never do anything you don’t want tho

If you don’t want him to talk to your bosses or do your work for you he won’t

He’ll just be there to cuddle with when you do eventually decide to sleep

Vampire! Bella:

She remembers the feeling all too well

Before she moved to Forks and stopped caring about schoolwork she used to be a chronic overworker

All nighters, energy drinks, the whole deal

So she recognizes the signs pretty early

And she doesn’t do too much

She tells you when you should go to bed, but other than that she lets you do you

If you ask her for help with your work she’s more than happy to help

But if you’re the one who signed up for way too many classes, then it’s your job to do them

She’ll just be there later when you want to complain

[jhdyuiee]

alibi

★ pairing: childhood friend!haechan x fem!reader

★ tags/warnings: smut!, slight angst, fluff, unprotected sex, nipple/breast play, kissing/making-out, multiple positions (doggy&face-to-face), oral (f receiving), fingering, marking (hickies&biting), pet names (baby) & name calling (good girl), dirty talk, cursing, spanking, squirting, multiple orgasms, rich ceo haechan, haechan was your childhood friend who one day up and disappeared 

★ w.c: 3.7k

★ a.n: hello! as promised here is my story for the week! sorry for the delay, i spent majority of my week finishing up my term paper, but now that, that is over i'm free again!! woohoo, i can finally enjoy my summer ㅠㅠ . anyhow this my first haechan fic, yippie! also thank you all for the massive love and support on wildflower & million dollar baby <3 please stay safe out there during this summer time, i love you berry much, jiji out 🤍

5 years ago.

You're lying… No… This couldn’t be possible… He couldn’t have just disappeared without telling me…

How could he? We were supposed to graduate tomorrow. Go to the same University. We were supposed to be together.

“Why did you leave,” I muttered as tears streamed down my face.

As I headed to school this morning, I stopped by his home like I’ve always done. However I was met with an empty home. Everything cleared, as if no one ever lived there. I thought maybe I’d arrived at the wrong home or I was still dreaming.

So I called Haechan. Once, twice, ten times yet to no avail. He answered none of my calls or messages. I went with the second option, calling my mother. Yet little did I know that, that call would shatter all remaining hope in me.

“You didn’t know? The Lee’s left yesterday. His father was hired in, hmm where was it? Toronto! Toronto, Canada!” my mother said. My eyes widened, hands shaking. Haechan hadn’t informed me of anything.

So he just left. Like that? My legs grew weak, I found myself outside his door; sobbing. Nothing else mattered to me right now, I just wanted Haechan. His bright smile, his sparkling eyes, and warmth. It was like he took my other half, leaving me now half dead.

In all honesty, I loved Haechan. Ever since I learned what love was. Yet, now I never even got the chance to tell him. This would be the end of us. 18 years—since birth—gone.

Present day.

I thought that day 5 years ago would be the end. Me and Haechan would never find our way back to each other, yet why was he standing in front of me now?

“Y/N…” he says, loud enough for me to hear. I snapped out of my trance, remembering I was still on the job.

“R-Right this way sir,” I said, guiding him and the women that held his hand to their table. I set their menus on the table as they got situated. “I’ll be right back to take your orders,” I said, trying to make my exit.

I left without turning back, without glancing back at Haechan. My heart pounded so fast, my body trembling. This couldn’t be… No, he… What was he doing here? Out of every restaurant, why did he have to come to the one I worked at!? Just when I had begun forgetting about him, he reappeared and with a woman by his side no less.

I sighed, trying my best to compose myself. I mean after all he’d be gone once he finished eating and I’d never have to see him again. As I made my way back to their table, the woman he was with smiled so brightly, laughing at whatever Haechan was saying.

“Hello!” I said enthusiastically, putting on a smile. “I’m Y/N and i’ll be your waiter today. Can I get you started on some drinks?” I asked. I felt Haechan’s gaze the whole time I stood there.

“Hello, uhh I’ll get the Strawberry Vodka!” The woman spoke happily. When I finished noting her drink down, I turned to Haechan. Our eyes meeting one another. “And for you sir?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it before opening it up again to speak. “Some water is fine, since I still have to drive us afterwards.” I nodded my head, “Are you guys ready to order or would you like more time?”

“No, no it’s fine we can order now,” he said. And so I took their orders, walking back to the kitchen once I finished. I poured their drinks and walked back over to them. Only this time I didn’t linger there for long. Then after a good while, their food was finally ready. Plates in hand, I walked over to them again, giving them their food. “Anything else that you would need?” I asked. Before Haechan could answer, the women politely dismissed the question.

I continued working, I had no time to just idle around. I served every table I could possibly attend to, until I finally noticed Haechan and the women getting ready to leave. I made my way over there for what I hoped would be the last time. “All ready to go?” I asked.

“Yes, could we get the check?” Haechan asked. “Oh! Yes, here you go,” I said, setting the receipt I pulled from inside my apron's pocket on the table. “Thank you for dining with us!” I gave my last remark, displaying a bright smile. I might’ve been hallucinating but I saw Haechan's lips faintly twitched.

“Thank you!” the woman said, standing up from her seat to grab Haechan’s arm. He happily got up, “Thank you so much for your service, I’ll be sure to tip you generously.” “Oh no, Thank you for being such wonderful customers! Be sure to stop by next time!” I said, only wishing he never sets foot in here again.

He smiles, “Will do,” he says, his words sounding like a promise. Great. I watched as they paid and left. Catching Haechan as he gave me one last look, his eyes filled with longing.

・❥��・❥・・❥・

Finally, my night shift at the restaurant was over! I could finally go home, maybe stop by the convenience store to buy a beer or two. After tonight I could use some alcohol.

I bid my coworkers goodbye, making my way out of the restaurant. “Y/N!” A voice shouted my name. I turned to find the voice. Only now I wished that I simply had just feigned ignorance to the calling.

Haechan stood before me. His body leaned against his vehicle, arms crossed. I stood there, not a single move from me. It was as if time had stopped and we were the only two in this world. He moved first, making his way towards me until we were only an inch apart. His eyes, the same ones that shun so bright, were now eerily emotionless.

My lips quivered, “H… Haechan.” My vision blurred and only then did I realize the waterworks had started. I heard a faint chuckle erupt from him, “Still a crybaby huh?” he asked as the pad of his thumbs wiped my tears away. No, I didn’t want to feel his touch.

I backed away, the two of us just staring at one another. “Wh-Why are you here!” I said, coming out rather loudly. “To get you,” he answered. Confusion overrode my face, “For me?! Haechan, you left me 5 years ago!”

His eyes now saddened; hurt. “I didn’t mean to! I meant to tell you about my father’s job… it’s just-” I interrupted him before he could finish, “So? I had to find out through my mother for christ sake Haechan. Not to mention it was on the day before our graduation!” He sighed, coming closer to me. He cupped my face, “I know, I know I was a jerk but I didn’t tell you because I was going to come back! I was supposed to be back after a couple of months.” Now shock overrode my face. What was he talking about? Come back after a few months?

“Don’t bullshit me,” I spat out. “I’m not!” he slightly raised his voice, causing me to flinch. “Sorry,” he then said, embracing me into a hug. “I really was supposed to come back yet to my surprise when I returned you had already gone,” he whispered into my ear.

His hot breath, his low voice sent an intense shiver throughout my body that I got lost in him. I couldn’t formulate a sentence, a word. I pressed my hands against his chest, trying to push him away but he was too strong. “B-But what about that woman,” I asked.

We locked eyes, a smirk formulated on his face. “She was just some woman my mother set me up with. Why, jealous?” 

I shook my head. Me, jealous?! Please… “No! Why would I!” He shrugged his shoulders, “You tell me.” I gripped his arm, “Wh-What do you mean?”

His expression softened, “You think I wouldn’t know?” I looked at him, confused once more. He chuckled, “That you love me.”

My eyes widened, my mouth fell open. How? How did he…

I detached myself from him, “What… How did you-“ “The way you would always look at me,” he interrupted me. “How would I look at you?” I questioned.

“Like I was your entire world.”

My vision blurred, “How long have you known…” He inched closer, “Since before I even left.” “Bu-But why didn’t you say anything!?” I raised my voice a bit. “Because I knew it wouldn’t work out.”

My cheeks felt wet when he told me that. He inched closer, stopping me from talking. “Before you say anything I just wanted to say that it had nothing to do with you, in fact I loved you too. Heck, I still do. Y/N I love you.”

“But?” I asked, even more tears streaming down my face. He sighed, putting his hands on my face to wipe away the tears. “It was me. I knew I was going to have to leave one day and even if it wasn’t for too long I couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t just leave you.”

This man. He sure has a knack for worrying over the simplest things…

“You could’ve still talked to me about it,” I said, embracing him this time. I buried my head into his chest. His hands were holding onto me and stroking my hair. “I know… and for that I’m sorry.” I looked up at him, “You know… It’s okay and you wanna know why?” I asked. “Why,” he replied.

“Because I too still love you. Then and now, Haechan. I have always loved you, no matter how much I tried hating you… I just knew that if you were to ever show up in life again, I would welcome you back. I just can’t seem to live without you.”

He didn’t react. I watched as Haechan stood there, wide eyed like he couldn’t believe what was unfolding. I giggled a bit, finding his reaction amusing. However, now I was the one left wide eyed when he abruptly crashed his lips onto mine.

The kiss was gentle, yet still passionate. I tasted him, finding contentment of how perfectly his lips molded onto mine. He holds my face with both his hands, deepening the kiss. A moan ended up slipping from my throat when his tongue intruded inside my mouth. I wrap my hands around Haechan, enjoying this too much that I didn’t want to let go.

Unfortunately he's the first to pull away, both of us panting. His hands don’t let go from cupping my face as he leans down to my ear. “How about we continue this at my apartment?” he whispers into my ear. And so with a nod of my head, we hurriedly got into his car.

The car ride was silent, but the air felt heavy. Haechan’s hands on your thigh, fondling the flesh. You were sure your panties were soaked by this point. You seriously were growing impatient, you wanted nothing more but to have him within you already.

・❥・・❥・・❥・

Around 10 minutes later you both arrived at his apartment. You both hurriedly take off every article of clothing whilst kissing one another hungrily. You feel as his fingers slip to cup your sex before taking two of his fingers to glide along your pussy lips. The sensation causing you to pull away from the kiss panting and moaning. 

“Feels good Y/N?” Haechan asks as he takes those two fingers to your clit where he begins rubbing it. “Y-Yes!” I say, coming out rather loudly. He smiles before continuing his ministrations on your cunt.

On the other hand, his mouth has found its way on your body. Kissing every part of you from your cheeks, jaw, collarbone, and your breasts. Using his free hand, Haechan fondles one of your breasts while his mouth kisses around your nipple, nipping on the skin which causes you to wince. His eyes look up, “You alright baby?” he asks. Baby, god that has a nice ring to it, don’t it?

“I-I’m fine, just feels so good,” I reply, bringing a hand to his fluffy hair. Taking that as his sign that you were fine he continued. He stuck his tongue out, teasing your bud before bringing your nipple to his mouth. He sucked on it, using his tongue to lick on your bud. Then you watched as Haechan kissed a bridge to your other breast, repeating his actions onto your other breasts.

At this point your brain started becoming foggy, his hands and mouth were god's work. “Fuck,” I moaned. Haechan departs from your breast, ”You gonna cum already?” I nod my head, but then he flips me around. My hands on the door, and when I whipped my head around to look at him, Haechan was already going down. “Spread your legs for me baby,” he says in a sultry voice. I complied, opening myself for him.

I felt as he slapped me on my ass, “Good girl” he muttered as he takes in the wet mess behind me. Gripping onto my thighs he begins to lick up all my juices, letting out a satisfied groan when he finally tastes me. “Taste so good, baby. Can’t believe you’re this wet already,” he says as he kisses the sensitive skin around my cunt.

“Please.. M-More,” I moaned. I couldn’t handle his teasing anymore, I wanted him to make me cum already– to make a mess of me. “My pleasure Y/N,” Haechan says before licking up my cunt in slow strokes. Then bringing his tongue to my clit to give it some licks before using his mouth to suction on it. The sensation leaving me drooling, chanting his name repeatedly like some prayer.

When he finally lets go of my clit, his mouth departs from my cunt. I was left confused for a second before I felt his thumbs spread my lips apart. A second later his tongue intrudes inside me so deep it had me pressing my cheek against the door. The pleasure had me crying out, “S-So good!”

His tongue pushes itself further inside my gummy walls, while one of his hands smacks down on one of my ass cheeks. The smack eliciting more pleasurable moans from me. I felt myself growing close to cumming all over his face, just a little more…

Haechan must’ve sensed it too by the way I began tightening around his tongue as he brought his thumb to my clit. Once more he rubs on the sensitive bud, then pinching it with the help of his index finger.

So close… So close, but then he takes out his tongue. However I didn't get to whine at the loss of sensation because he quickly brought two fingers from his unoccupied hand inside my hole. His fingers stretched me out wonderfully, reaching me deep inside, and the pace kept above 100.

And with one final pinch on my clit, I gushed all over. Taking his fingers out quickly to capture all my juices as they leaked. He drank me up, from my cunt to my thighs. Like a starved man he managed to clean me all up.

Finally getting up, Haechan reaches me. He stares for a while, taking in my fucked out state. “You did so good,” he mutters, pecking my temple. “However, we’re not done yet so don’t fall asleep on me just yet.” As he said that he presses his hard cock in between my ass and rubbing it against my fucked out cunt. I swear I almost went crazy from the way his tip rubbed against my clit. I press myself against him more, wiggling my ass for him. I hear as he lets out a low chuckle before grabbing the sides of my ass and shoving himself in me with one swift move.

I yelp forward against the door, my first clenching. His hands gripping onto my waist, his finger tips sure to leave little crescent moons when all this is done. He pounded into me like a madman, rough and merciless. I was too engulfed in the pleasurable feeling of his tip reaching my womb that I didn’t mind his thrusting. He didn’t falter even after a while, grunting whenever he felt me clench around his cock.

The sounds of skin slapping and the squelching wetness were all you could hear throughout his apartment. You’d secretly hoped his room was soundproof because the obscene noises you two were making were sure to bring the neighbors complaining. However in Haechan’s mind he didn’t care one bit. Your noises were just too beautiful, becoming his new favorite song he wished to listen to on replay every single second of his days. Haechan glances down to where you both were connected, noting the white ring formed around his cock. Weirdly, but not weirdly turning him on all the more. You didn’t know if it was possible, but he picked up his pace.

Both of you growing close to your releases. Guiding one of his hands off your hips and to your swollen clit he works you closer to your second orgasm. All the more kissing his way up to your neck when he nibbles on the exposed skin when you tilt your head to the side. A thrust or two later, rolling your eyes back and fingertips piercing into your palms you have the most euphoric orgasm of the night– no of your life.

Taking his lips off you, he glances down to your gushing hole. Your orgasm coating all over his dick and pussy clenching around him, he twitches inside you before releasing. His cum coating your walls, stuffing you.

Taking his cock out, still half hard, he glances down at you as you collapse onto the floor. Your legs giving in, leaving you weak. He couldn’t stop thinking of how beautiful you look, and all like this because of him. Just those thoughts alone were enough to get him hard again. Haechan decides he hasn’t had enough yet and picks you up.

Hazily, you watch him carry you into his bedroom. He places you down first before sitting on the edge of the bed. He turns around to meet your eyes. “Come here,” he said, signaling you to come sit on his lap. Once again obliging, sitting on his lap. His hard cock resting in between your bodies, you bite on your bottom lip when you feel his tip rub against your stomach.

“Sit on it baby,” he whispers into your ear. Your eyes go wide for a moment before taking his cock in your hand, lifting yourself up so you slide it inside you again. In this position his cock reaches you deeply, fitting snug into you. “All that fucking with my fingers, mouth, and cock but you’re still so tight,” he whispers into your ear. His hot breath turning you on. He kisses his way to your neck, marking you even more. You were his after all.

“Come on baby, don’t be shy,” Haechan urges me. So placing my hands on his shoulders and lifting myself up, I slam down back onto him. My eyes widened at the way he reached me again, his cock feeling as though it was made specially for me.

I continued working my way on his cock, going at my own pace. Although to this Haechan felt as though he was being tortured. He felt as though you were teasing him; the way your face would scrunch up in pleasure, your low moans, your tits bouncing– all of it was torture to him. Having had enough, he brings his hands to your hips again.

He helps you bounce on his cock, faster and faster. The deep penetration, caused you to clench around him once more, squeezing him for all he’s worth. He groans, bringing his hand to your tit, squeezing it and using his fingers to pinch on your bud.

Letting go of his shoulders you bring your arms behind you, resting your hands on his knees. Thrusting into him this way on your own, he lets go of your hips now playing with your tits with both his hands. Later bringing his mouth into the mix as he licks on your nipples again, occasionally biting on your buds.

Your pace begins to falter, growing closer to your release again. Feeling too as Haechan’s cock twitches inside you, you bring one of your hands to your clit where you begin to play with it. His eyes begin watching you, enjoying the view in front of him. He hopes to engrave this memory into his brain forever.

“Le-Let’s cum together,” I moaned. “Mmm, cum on my cock for me again baby,” Haechan says. Your pussy obeying him, cumming on his cock for a third time tonight as his hot white seeds fill inside you again. Overwhelmed and exhausted from the pleasure, you both collapse on the bed, Haechan’s cock still inside you. He didn’t wanna slip out just yet.

・❥・・❥・・❥・

Eyes fluttering open, the morning sun peeking in through the curtains. You’ve finally awakened from your slumber, turning to your side but are met with nothing. The memories of last night's activities flood into your brain. You feel your face heat up. Oh god, I thought. Glancing down, I noticed I was now dressed in an over-sized shirt. It’s probably- “Sleep well,” he says, walking into the room. Well, well speak of the devil.

I tuck my hair behind my ear, smiling at him. “Mmm, best I’ve ever slept!” I say cheerfully. He smiles– that smile I knew from all those years ago. Walking over to me, he cups my face. “I love you.” I swear my smile reaches my eyes at his words, “I love you too, always have and always will.”

“You’ll be the death of me,” he mutters before bringing his lips onto mine. Kissing delicately and with so much love.

When he parted, he asked me something– “Will you be my girlfriend?” I didn’t hesitate as I jumped into his arms, “Yes!” I repeated.

Sharing another kiss, we spent the rest of the morning and day with one another. Enjoying one another like a couple of teenagers in love, making up for lost time.

© jhdyuiee

2024.07.21

final a.n: as promised, the fic of the week! i’m truly sorry it took longer than anticipated, i was working on my final the whoke week ㅠㅠ but now i should be free for the rest of the summer!!! anyhow im rlly excited for next week, kcon && seeing 127, practically sobbing ahhh! anyhow i hope to be back soon with doyoung’s story next, stay tuned! please continue supporting “WALK” !!! 🤍

[hrrtshape]

GIRL, NEW YEARS??????? Omg if you're staying for a minute, SPILL THE DR TEA

i shifted for a quarter of a year.....does the cia want to know my location??

it’s soooooo over for you all. i have seen the light (coryo). i have tasted the forbidden fruit (no..not coryo). i have held hands with fate and made out with destiny in a dark corner of a new york rooftop bar (coryo!!!!).

hi. so. i shifted. with this method.

and listen, the universe is a freak. it’ll knock the wind out of you, throw you down the stairs, steal your wallet, and then, while you’re still gasping for air, go, ‘oh, my bad. here’s a gift card. also, you can shift now.’ so. hi. i’m back. i lived in my better cr for three months. an entire fiscal quarter. and now i’m here again, blinking in the fluorescent light of this reality, trying to form sentences like a war vet just back from the frontlines.

what do i even say? where do i begin? i guess the first day. let’s set the scene: september 20th. autumn in new york. cinematic. LET'S GOOOO.

i shifted back. cried. obviously. cried some more. then locked in (queen never crumbles) and promptly lost my entire mind on the balcony. squealing, jumping, doing the full carrie bradshaw excited little twirl in paris before she got fucked over the russian short guy. if my neighbours were watching, they were getting a show.

i got dressed for school. threw on something casually devastating. drank matcha on the way as i picked up lily-rose. business as usual, except i was vibrating at a higher frequency than ever before. every nerve ending in my body was singing. i was so happy.

then. okay. i know i said i got with coryo. and i did. (everyone say: ‘she won.’) but. not yet. patience. restraint. delayed gratification. all that. i saw him that first day, and did i think about jumping him? yes. did i? no. but he winked at me.like the absolute menace he is. imagine me, gripping my books like a regency heroine whose gloved hand was just brushed by a suitor. i nearly blacked out. then it was onto the usual: maths, english, lunch, philosophy, p.e. (where i spent the full hour contemplating coryo in gym clothes. blessings upon this timeline), history.

post-school, me, lily-rose, and malina (@chaaistained you made a cameo, my ride-or-die) went shopping on fifth ave because of course we did. the girls were girl-ing. capitalism was capitalism-ing. i know you’re nodding. i know you get it. we all get it. then home. girl dinner. filmed some deeply unserious tiktoks. stalked coryo’s instagram (two days apart and i was already checking for potential threats. he had none. heh). chatted with my car, caesar. absolute king. i was, in a word, thriving.

and now i know what you’re thinking. ‘emma. you were there for three months. why didn’t you stay longer?’ and lovies, i hear you. i do. but last time shifting ate me alive and spat me out, so we’re doing things differently now. a little here, a little there. back and forth, like a woman with multiple lovers in different countries. balance. we're ed recovering this stuff.

oh ! also. minor detail but i started an anonymous page in the shifting community over there. what’s it about?????? well. let’s just say i’ve been documenting.

more soon. xoxo. gotta organise these rogue thoughts first

[lovebvni]

mindset of manifestation & how i manifest

like melanie martínez, i am back from the dead.

i apologize for being gone so long, but i needed a break from tumblr. i saw toxicity swirling in the community, my life got busy, and i decided it was just time for a break. when i was planking to come back, i just saw how things got terrible and i got upset and decided not to come back.

so, im back now and with a little tutorial on how i manifest!!! <3 i hope this can help some of you out.

let’s start with background.

manifesting is kind of like predicting the future. you have something you want to happen, then it happens soon after. i feel like this is the easiest way to get into the manifestation mindset. you cannot change what you’re getting if you want it. could you change your mind later and return it like a package? yes! but before it arrives, you know it’s arrival is coming.

sure, there can be delays, but it all is going to turn out YOUR way in the end.

nile and i have been working on our mindset and this is something they wrote that i think can be really helpful — as it was to me.

from the past two years we have been actively manifesting, we learned that we often saw things as “crazy”. but manifesting isn’t crazy, it’s quite normal.

every time you get dressed in the morning, it’s an act of manifestation. you’re showing up with what you want.

manifestation is a mondane activity!! stop treating it like it was a kiss from an angel!

by reading this, you’re manifesting your eyes working, you’ve used your hands to open an app, and you have believed you can read and get through this blog! without manifesting that, you would not be here.

the first step to manifestation is believing you can do it, believing you have done it, and believing you will continue to do it. period.

there are many MANY different ways to manifest, but i manifest in 3 ways (sometimes i use all three, sometimes i use just 1 or 2.)

!! I ALMOSR FORGOT TO PUT THIS AND IM ADDING IT BEFORE I GET TO NUMBER 2 OMG!!

STOP! BEFORE ANYTHING ELSE I WANT YOU TO GET A NOTEBOOK, A SHEET OF PAPER, OR MAKE A CHECKLIST ON YOUR PHONE IN YOUR NOTES APP!!!

now i want you to write down everything you want right now down and leave the boxes blank if you haven’t gotten them yet.

once you get through that, i want you to randomly click between some of the items you want and write down things you wanted that you did get! they can be some simple and things from years ago, what matters is you have them down. throw in some things that you may have to do for school or work while you’re at it.

here’s an example! (left is before checking off, right is after)

as you can see, i added a note to the side because i got what i wanted and more abundantly! i had been manifesting a dog since i was a young child, and in 2021, i got 2!!!! (one is laying at my feet right now <3)

continue to do this daily, weekly, or whatever you have time for. i personally do this on notion and i try to add something new daily (im adding the heartstopper thing rn!!)

but yeah!! write everything u want down, and continue to add to it, just so u can see progress DOES happen and your work and effort DOES pay off!

affirming and persisting

this id the first way i learned to manifest, and the most self-explanatory.

you simply repeat what you want over and over until you get it! but not in the future tense, in the current or past tense.

ex; “i passed my maths final!”, “im so happy my boyfriend gave me those roses for valentine’s day, he’s so sweet!”, “i finished the essay for english like a week before it was due!” “i got the lead role in my play! im so excited!” etc.

now, the common factor between all of these is having a positive mindset about them. i cannot tell you HOW many times i manifested something would go well, and right before they happened, i got in a shitty mind space and wondered if it would ever happen.

but, nonetheless, i persisted through and i got what i wanted.

the pain have have been feeling cant compare to the joy that is coming. Romans 8:18

persisting is basically pushing through. think about the time you didn’t think you would make it through an injury, a school year, a trial, yet you still walked through it — even if it was slow.

like when work days are long and you want to go home, but you can’t, so you persist.

i try to think of my manifestations as an ultimatum. it’s going to happen, and that’s final. the only thing you have to do to get it is stay conscious.

and staying conscious, walking through those days, is how you get to the end!

i use affirming and persisting with pretty much everything, which is why it was first.

2. listening to subs.

it’s that simple — listen to an audible subliminal that has the results you want over and over!! that’s all i do u guys. here’s my playlist if u want it (IF I DELETE IT CHECK MY PINNED POST!! I UPDATE IT OFTEN)

i often use @stilljuststardust’s subs, slade’s subs, enchanted workshops’ subs and i want it, i got it’s subs!

all of them are trusted and credible. i cannot promise you that all the subs in my playlist will work for you, as they are (sometimes) linked to my personal desires.

3. pinterest manifestation!!

i recommend having either a whole pinterest account or a board set aside for this way of manifestation.

you simply make boards (or sections) for things you want. i would say this is best for physical items, people, looks, makeup, etc. things that re physically tangible, rather than something like reality shifting (although i do have a reality shifting board! it has been working pretty well <3)

i also have one for my mindset, my religion, so on and so forth (link btw)

i think this is pretty self explanatory. just save picture of things you want and quotes/affirmations and DONE!

i also use this sub with it :p it’s worked WONDERSSS!

if you have any other questions i will be happy to answer them!! i love you all!! go manifest!!

[rwshfordgirl]

I saw that your requests are open. Could you please write a story of Pedri and tennis reader? Maybe they had crush on each other from face away and during the Olympics they meet each other and start low-key going out and end up hard launching their relationship when both of them win the gold medails (It would be great bonus of the reader is Spanish as well)

Olympics

all the images were taken from pinterest.

pairing: pedri x tennis player! reader

a/n: i swore he had participated in the olympics last year, i didn't remember seeing him during euro hahaha by the way i miss the olympics so much!!! I LOVE the Olympics, i remember when my city hosted it. i had to make a small change in the plot, i hope you don't mind and i apologize for the delay, thanks for the request, i'm loving writing fics for him <3 hope you like it.

import warning: i have the feeling that i've already seen a fic involving pedri and a tennis player, i could be wrong because i looked and didn't find it. i don't know if it's a similar story to mine, but in any case if the author of the fic sees this post and feels uncomfortable, she/him can talk to me, i can modify or remove it.

JULY, 2021

Three days after your arrival at the Olympic village, you finally discovered the quietest times for each meal of the day. Even if this involves limited food availability, having peace during meals is essential.

It's 8:30 p.m., the restaurant is really empty, there's you and a few other athletes from nations you can't identify. The members of your coaching staff eat dinner earlier than you, they prefer the commotion and your fitness coach has already warned you that it's best for you to have dinner and go to bed early.

In the village restaurant, there are areas with some typical foods from each country and you promised yourself that you would go through each one, trying everything as if you were on a trip around the world. But today you miss home, you needed something that reminded you of Barcelona.

You made your way towards the Spanish space, the only place with a line at that time, apparently the men's football team was also hungry for Spanish food.

The boys play, laugh and talk loudly in the queue, nothing that bothers you, since all you can think about is what you are going to order to eat. "Escalivada perhaps."

"Lo siento." The male voice of the boy in front of you returned you to reality, he had accidentally stepped on the tip of your foot and turned to apologize.

Your eyes passed over the man, someone you had known from afar, Pedri, he studied with your cousin during high school and his face was always spread throughout Barcelona in the advertisements of the team he played for. An unforgettable face.

Pedri also feels unable to forget your face, when he saw it was you, he promptly remembered the occasions when he met you. He liked it when your cousin organized parties and invited you.

"Hi." You said almost in a whisper, but with a slight smile on your face.

"Hi." He said in the same way you did.

But that was it, the Spanish national team's top brass called him for something. They said goodbye with a subtle wave.

That same night, when you were already at your accommodation, a notification made your cell phone vibrate. It was a notification from Instagram.

"Pedri started following you."

You smiled and promptly followed him back. The beginning of something.

JULY,2024

Tokyo was your first Olympics, and it will always be the most special of all. Besides being your first, it was thanks to the sporting event that you reconnected with Pedri.

Three years ago, right after the Spanish player started following you, things changed. You now attend Barcelona games, Pedri watches your tennis matches. Everything you didn't know you needed.

The results of the Tokyo Olympics were not the best, you left there in fourth place and Pedri won a silver medal after a final against Brazil.

You wanted, you really wanted to leave Paris with any medal. Pedri said, "Don't be too hard on yourself, my love, everything will be fine." Every time I saw you training hard for the upcoming Olympics.

But the combination of Pedri + hard training worked, today you can say that you will return to Barcelona with a medal in your hands. You reached the women's tennis final.

"Cariño, everything has already worked out. I'm rooting for you so much."

Pedri's message made your eyes water, he can't come to see you, he's in training with the national team. Pedri will also return home with a medal around his neck, the men's football team was in the final.

And you promised, if you both left Paris with medals, the rest of the world would know you were together. Something people suspected, photos of you two leaving markets together and walking through the streets of Barcelona, likes and comments on photos. People just didn't have confirmation.

But now they will, after an electrifying match against a Chinese athlete, you are a gold medalist. No words to describe it. You went from fourth place in Tokyo to the gold medal in Paris.

"I knew you could do it." Pedri's voice was muffled on the phone.

He was crying along with you on the video call.

The rest of his team were shouting your name from the back and congratulating you.

"Tomorrow is your turn."

And it really was, Spain won two golds in a row in less than 24 hours. A game as electrifying as theirs, but decided in extra time, as France was also desperate to win the gold at home.

"We are both medalists."

You said in Pedri's ear right after he spun you around on the field.

"Golden couple."

He said after giving you a little kiss.

"We're going to have to take a picture biting the medal."

"As you wish."

"You know that when we have our first child, we have to call her Olimpia." He joked.

"No way, let's leave that idea aside."

"Oh come on, it's a name that represents us."

"Pedri, I'll get that idea out of your head very soon." You smiled "Come on, let's take the pictures."

[sweetchillipeppers]

Jason Todd x Reader - Teacher AU

Pairing: Jason Todd x Gender Neutral!Reader

A/N: Y’all what if I actually got back into writing fics? I didn’t know I could do that. But write what you want to see. And I want to see English teacher by day, Red Hood by night Jason Todd with History teacher reader so sue me. More importantly, I want to see Damian in reader’s classroom at lunchtime bitching about his brother. I already have part two, so that will be posted soon. (And y’all get to have a look at the Red Hood!)

Also I believe this is gender neutral if anyone sees gendered language let me know and I'll fix it.

Tags: Rivals to lovers, kind of mutual pining, Teacher AU Word Count: 3368

Pt 1 Pt 2

You were warned that teaching would be just like high school all over again. The same cliques and bullies and drama that plagued the halls when you were 15, to be repeated now that you’ve returned to the school as an adult. To think that fully grown human beings are still caught up in the same scandals, doomed to the same behaviour 10 years after they should have grown out of it. You never would have believed it until you saw it yourself. Until even you devolved to your teenage years, developing a deep hatred for a fellow colleague. Okay. Hatred was a strong word for the rivalry but the dislike you held for a certain English teacher was real. And right now, he was the reason you’ve had to delay a test for your students. The email you’d received less than 10 minutes before your class was due to start did nothing but add to the rage you felt.

“10th grade English stream A2 is running over. 7 kids still need to present their projects. They’ll be late for their next class. Sorry for the delay.” 

Attached was a list of students in the class who would be late. All unsurprisingly in your history class. Mr Jason Todd had no respect for you, no respect for your time and no respect for your subject.

As the two youngest teachers at the school, you were often paired together: volunteer work, lunch duty, after school workshops. It didn’t help that your two departments, history and english, also worked closely with one another. You hated that the kids adored him. You hated that the other teachers still adored him, especially after all his flakiness. You knew that he hadn’t appeared at over half the after school volunteer work you had to do, and that he likely had an active social or dating life that was the cause, something you missed since becoming a teacher. So maybe, the hatred was all just jealousy. NOT. As if you’d be so petty.

When you first met Jason, you liked him. Like really liked him. He was pretty and smart and you are oh so attracted to competence. You trapped him in literary discussions from the Brothers York to the Odyssey but he never minded. You threw a couple joint trip ideas around to go see a local Shakespeare play after Christmas or the early 19th century writers exhibition at the museum. He was also the rugby coach and his practice on the field coincided with your volleyball team’s in the hall so twice a week you tidied the equipment cupboard together. You were so certain the two of you would be fast friends. Maybe more. So when the librarian went on paternity leave in October and Jason needed help re-cataloguing the entire library onto the new system you volunteered. A chance to spend time with someone you liked and helping out the school: a win-win. What you hadn’t expected was that what should’ve been a couple hours at most after school for a week turned into a month-long endeavour for you. Only you. Jason would stay for at most 20 minutes before running away with some kind of excuse and vanishing for the rest of the night. By the third week, you’d started cataloguing during your lunch breaks to try speed up the process (and to avoid spending any time with him while your temper simmered under pleasantries). After that you distanced yourself. He clearly had no respect for your time and you by extension. No more literary discussions in the staff room. No more joint tidies in the equipment store and no more library cataloguing. Mr Jason Todd was the most unreliable colleague you had. The bane of your existence. And yet, everyone seems to forget this fact when he flashes a smile or starts talking about classic literature. But not you. No, you could see through his gorgeous face, past those good looks into the depths of his terrible personality. And unfortunately, the only person who agreed with you was a child.

“Todd irritates me far too often. I put in a request at the start of the year that I would not be in any of his classes.” Damian states matter of factly. The two of you were sat in your classroom eating lunch. The youngest Wayne opting to spend time surrounded by history displays instead of braving the lunch hall and eating alone. And, as the teacher, it was your responsibility to encourage him to make friends. After the two of you bitch about Jason of course. 

“I wish I could put in a request to stop seeing him in the staff room. But no, he wanders in with his fancy books and his fancy teas-”

“Those would be Pennyworth’s” He confirms.

“-Flashes a smile and expects me to be nice to him after how flakey he’s been. Can you believe it?”

Damian swallows a bite of his sandwich and nods solemnly. “I can.”

“He’s incredibly unreliable. I mean how do people give him any responsibility after this?” Your arms gesturing wildly.

“Perhaps this is weaponised incompetence. I always say to Father that he is too incompetent for his job.” Damian suggests, shaking his head. “But Father says that he is one of the most competent people he knows”

It’s not too hard to be competent in front of ‘Brucie’ Wayne. But you don’t tell Damian that.

“No, he's definitely competent enough. I know he’s incredibly intelligent and I sat in for one of his classes. He clearly just has zero time management skills.”

“And he lacks respect.”

“And he lacks respect!” You shout, then realise you should probably calm down and sheepishly rub the back of your neck. Although it seems that Damian hadn’t cared about your outburst.

“I am the blood son, he should at least be respectful to the rightful heir. But no, he and Grayson make a habit of tossing me about like a basketball.”

That sounds quite sweet to you, that Damian’s older brothers treat him so nicely and the disagreement must show on your face because Damian scoffs.

“Pennyworth tells me it’s ‘Sibling Bonding’. I do not wish to think of those two imbeciles as related to me.”

“The curse of being the youngest.” you offer in response, “Although it sounds like they want to be playful with you. That they want a good relationship.”

“I can’t believe you’re defending Todd right now.”

You huff at that, changing the subject. “Maybe you should make some other friends, that way you can spend less time with your brothers. Think of it as an escape plan.”

“Are you not my friend?” 

“Um well, yes, but I meant some kids your own age.”

“Ah. Father agrees. He says that Jon is not enough. That I need more than one friend. How many friends do you have? I will achieve the same.” Damian looks determined, which means you’re at least getting through to him. You, on the other hand, feel like a deer in headlights. Honestly you can count the number of friends you have from outside work on one hand. 

“I have lots of friends.” You brag. Damian does not look convinced. “How about you aim to make two more friends? Maybe you should join a club. Ms Song says you excel in her art classes. The art club meets on Tuesday lunchtimes and after school on a Wednesday.”

“I enjoy my lunches in the history room.”

“But this would work for both of us Damian. I start lunchtime duty next week on Tuesdays. I won’t be in my classroom.” A lie, of course, but you really want Damian to make some friends and be more social amongst the other students. You’re not sure who’s timetabled for Tuesday lunchtime duty but you’ll find a way to swap. And luckily, Damian doesn’t call your bluff.

“Fine. I shall join the art club. I suppose it is only fair that I do something uncomfortable as well.”

You have no idea what Damian is talking about but he’s joining the art club so that’s a win for you. He’s putting himself out there socially and that’s all you can hope for. The bell rings and Damian packs up his things, leaving you to get ready for your next class. 

By the end of the day you were still thinking about how much you hated Jason. It’s not like he was the only thing on your mind though. In all honesty the only thing you had learnt from the earlier half of your conversation with Damian is that you were acting like a 14 year old. Not to say neither of your grievances were invalid but you suppose you should maybe give Todd slightly more grace than you do currently. Especially if he already has one enemy in Damian. You think back to the incident this morning. Maybe it really was an accident. Sometimes projects and classes over run. You have to be flexible in teaching. You gather your materials together when the bell rings and your last class rushes out the door. 

“For those of you coming on the trip on Saturday, meet outside the school bright and early!” You call, “The coach leaves at 8.30!”

You sit back down and stretch your arms out as you log into your emails, sending one to the maths teacher asking to switch to her lunchtime duty on Tuesdays. She replies yes and you smile in success. Plan ‘help Damian make friends’ has finished stage one. Wonderful! Scanning the latest reminder from your principal, someone knocks at the door, drawing your attention away. You figure it might be Janice, one of the cleaners or Alejandro the receptionist. “Come in.” you say, and turn back to your emails.

“Where’s good to start setting up?” You would recognise that grating voice in a heartbeat. Jason Todd. You swivel so fast in your chair you almost fall out of it. 

“What are you doing here?” You try to sound as neutral and as unaffected by his very presence as possible. 

“Parents' evening. We’re sharing a classroom. The email went out three weeks ago and a reminder today?” You turn back to the monitor. The last unread email. Damn. You’d agreed to share a classroom when you were still on good terms. 

“I must’ve missed it. I’m ready to start setting up right now.” You smile through gritted teeth.

You were so wrong about giving grace. That man has done nothing but step on your toes all afternoon. That display should be changed, these books should be out, example essays from each subject should have no overlap. And the worst part is that he was right on most counts. But you don’t take lightly to being ordered around by a man who does nothing but infuriate you. In less than an hour the parents will be walking into your room and judging you and the school and you again and Jason still isn’t back. He better be in the toilet having a case of explosive diarrhoea or so help him god, the principal will have to scrape his remains off the teacher car park. It’s been 20 minutes. You suppose the classroom is prepped and ready for the parents so you could just wait anxiously by yourself. You suppose nothing was tethering him here when the displays were done as long as he made it back before the parents. You suppose he wouldn’t want to spend time with someone who had become so hostile and jagged towards him. Maybe he was talking with some of the other teachers, you reasoned. He hadn’t abandoned you again. Not after the promises about turning up and being here. And certainly not after the principal’s second reminder email that seemed more like a warning. Perhaps you should go see if any other teachers needed help last minute as well. To keep your mind busy and away from the failure Jason was setting you up for. You lock your classroom and walk towards the art room.

Jason was running late again. Dick had called in an SOS and he was closest. And to make up for it he figured it wouldn’t matter if he stopped to grab a coffee for you each as a peace offering. He did enjoy your company after all. He knew that your iciness these past few weeks had been well deserved. He didn’t mean to miss all the cataloguing but it was a particularly active week for Black Mask and Penguin and then the week after that he was recovering from a stab wound he’d gotten during a routine drug bust. Getting a second job had taken some getting used to. So he could hardly blame you for your hostility. He knew he deserved it. So in order to make amends, he grabbed you a drink from the cafe two blocks from the school before he joined you in your classroom, ready for parents evening. He signed back into the office before catching a glimpse at the time. Shit. You were going to be so angry if he was late again. So he sprinted like a madman, ignoring all his very new teacher instincts about running in corridors. As Jason rushed towards your classroom he didn't notice the art room door open and you step out, waving goodbye to Ms Song. 

The apology coffee ended up all over you. Seeping through your sweater and your shirt. Your nice, white shirt, ironed and pressed for parents' evening. You take a deep breath. 

“I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t mean to-” Jason starts.

“It's okay Jason, really.” You swallow and turn to keep walking to your class. You were trying not to lose it. Not to cry or yell, when parents could walk through the door at any moment. Jason trailed behind you. When you walk into your classroom he calls your name. 

“What?” You snap. You have run out of patience and out of grace for him. He takes off his knit jumper, passing it to you.

“It’ll help cover the stain.”

“It’ll be weird though won’t it?” You question, eyebrow raised. You knew exactly what the staff room would sound like on Monday if anyone saw you. 

“Is that worse than letting the principal see you talking to parents covered in coffee?”

You don’t reply. He was right, per usual. You take the jumper, unenthusiastically and pull it on. It smells like him. Not that it would mean anything to you of course, it’s just a smell. It has absolutely zero effect on you. Jason was also not faring too well. Seeing you in his jumper was quite endearing. But it had no effect on him either. Everyone looked good in knit. Thankfully, you both hear the parents walking around the corridors and are able to break the awkwardness. 

“Ready to go?” He asks.

“People will like history way better than English.” You promise in response, looking at your display on ancient civilisations, matching your 9th grade class’s current topic. The bright colours and big posters were sure to catch everyone’s eyes.

Jason smirks, “More people like Shakespeare than you think.” He references his own display: a large, badly drawn, picture of Shakespeare with literary technique thought bubbles surrounding him. You roll your eyes, desperately trying to stop any trace of a smile. You were still angry at him. But right now, the parents need your attention.

The two of you finally finished the evening. It had been taxing, no thanks to your revived rivalry. You spent the entire evening one-upping each other to parents, as subtle as possible of course. When the principal had checked in on your pair, you were sweet as saints. No matter how much you disliked the man, even you couldn't deny how well you worked together. He apologised multiple times about the coffee. He really did feel bad about it all. The spill really was an accident. He also apologised for his flakiness, but gave no explanation as to why he had abandoned you for weeks on end. You found no reasonable explanation incredibly hard to believe. So you still didn’t trust him. 

When the final parents left and the two of you began the tedious task of tidying, you walked up to him. “Just because we’ve worked well together tonight does not mean I forgive you. I know you’ve said sorry but until you prove it I don’t believe you.” You used your teacher voice but kept it low enough that the few listening ears wouldn’t have the chance for any gossip. Jason nods, gulping. You continue to work in silence. When the two of you finished packing everything away, highly efficiently you might add, you knew you ought to talk to Jason about Damian. No matter how much his brother disliked him, you knew you needed to talk to him about Damian. You wanted his family to encourage his creativity as both an outlet and a means to relax and socialise. You casually leant against a desk and spoke up. 

“This might be too personal-” Jason perked up at your voice. “-but I was wondering if you could ask your family to encourage Damian’s art and creativity. I’m aware he doesn’t really have many friends-” Jason scoffs and you stare him down. He was a grown man. He needed to act like one.

Jason breaks the silence, “He has one friend, Jon. He lives in Metropolis. They see each other pretty regularly.” Jason shrugs. “Does he really need more?”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “You need to think like a teacher. Stop looking at him like your kid brother and see him as a child having trouble connecting with his peers. I want him to have someone to talk to while at school. Someone who is not me. And not you.” You add, even though you know Damian likely ignores his entire existence. “I’ve asked him to join the art club and go on Tuesday lunchtimes. I’m sure Ms Song has told you about how talented he is.”

“She hasn’t. You’re the only teacher who knows we’re related.” Jason shrugs again. His nonchalance was getting on your nerves. 

“What?”

“The school board and principal know, obviously. But we thought it would be better that his peers didn’t. We didn’t want him being accused of favouritism.” You suppose that makes sense. That could have isolated him further. Jason stepped towards you. “And you only know because of your bitching sessions.” Your eyes widen. “Yeah I know about those.” Jason taunts. 

This man. The nerve! And after you had graciously half-forgiven him. Surely Damian had not spilled the beans to his asshole brother. No. Jason probably found out by spying or some very nefarious plot. Why would he care anyway? Everyone else at this stupid school adored him. You were indulging his kid brother and helping him talk about his feelings. You were not in the wrong here. Jason was. And he was also far too close to you now. You don’t even know when he got so close. So close to one another that you could see every freckle. Every scar. Every pore on his gorgeous face. You were too close. And you knew you were flushing. You felt so hot. FROM REVITALISED LOATHING AND HATRED OF COURSE. Not from embarrassment. Or any other emotion. You steel your eyes. He would not know how much he affected you. Stupid smirking men do not get to win. You stand up straight and look him eye to eye. “Encourage Damian’s creativity. Your brother deserves more friends.” You dodge past Jason and grab your bag from under your desk. You motion for him to grab his shit. He does so and walks out, heading straight for the office to leave. Allowing you to lock up your classroom by yourself, in the empty school, not thinking about how close the two of you had been. Never thinking about his eyes or his hair or his lips. Peeling off his jumper and staring down the ugly brown coffee stain on your shirt, only thinking about the ways Jason had wronged you.

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

[jishyucks]

Candy Cane Delays — lmk

‣ pairing: mark lee x reader

‣ genre: fluff, implied friends-to-lovers, classmates au

‣ wc: 3k

‣ summary: Sure, it was disheartening seeing everyone receive a holiday candy gram but you, especially when you’re the one in charge of selling them at lunch. But don't worry, yours is on the way. He’s just… running a bit late.

‣ warnings: nothing i think,, reader’s kinda annoying about not getting a holiday candy gram but honestly same

‣ an: first part of my True Love Gave to Me Series YAY! Hopefully my writing’s good enough and this is somewhat cute bc I thought the idea was adorable,,, it honestly would’ve been longer and more detailed if I didn’t have 11 other mini fics to write but PLS ENJOYYY

Series Masterlist

Every year for the past 3 years, you've been in charge of selling the holiday candy grams for the winter dance.

And every year for those same 3 years, you’ve never, not even once, received a single candy gram. 

Sure, your best friend Yeri always offered to get you one for fun, but you told her off, cause in your mind it didn’t count when they tell you they’ll be getting you one. You wanted to receive one the good ‘ol traditional way—you wanted to be surprised. 

But whatever you wished, you never received. 

And that was okay. 

Because there came a point where you accepted the fact that you would probably never get one. It was a bit depressing (and maybe a tad embarrassing), but you simply chose to never get your hopes up every year just to be let down at the end. And though it was initially pretty easy ignoring this conclusion, it simply did not help that you were always put in charge of selling the damn grams. 

Every lunch period, you sit behind a table, a poster board with the words ‘PURCHASE YOUR HOLIDAY CANDY GRAMS FOR WINTER DANCE HERE!’ taped at its edge. You wait for students to approach you with pocket money, then you slide them as many candy grams as they pay for. Once they’ve finished filling out the slips of paper, you take the sheets back and begin preparing them by taping candy canes the school bought from the local dollar store. 

It was a routine you have gotten used to, and you don't expect to see any changes happening any time soon. 

“Can I have three, please?” 

You look up from your pile of candy canes to see your classmate, Jaemin, who’s blinking back at you with a wide smile. You nod and hold your hand out for him to drop his coins in. They land with a muted clunk noise before you drop them into the big metal bank you had pushed to the side. 

“Here you go,” you grin back, sliding three slips of paper toward the boy. He thanks you before turning to a nearby table and you’re left to turn back to the unfinished candy grams sitting in front of you. 

The time that lights up on the screen on your phone tells you that you need to start cleaning up soon so that you’re able to drop the candy grams off to the students distributing them for the day. Relief washes over you as you complete the remaining grams, just in time for Jaemin to return, gripping folded slips of paper in his fingers.

“Thank you,” Jaemin says, handing them to you, “I’ll see you in class, Y/N!” 

“See you, Jaemin,” you reply. And you quickly finish the last three before you start cleaning up. 

You place the empty candy grams on top of the earned money before locking the box. When you stand up, the chair makes an unpleasant noise against the floor and you cringe slightly. Rounding the table, you move the chair along with you, placing it on top and upside down for tomorrow’s use. 

“Am I too late?” 

Another person's sudden presence startles you, making you realize that you've been too absorbed in your tasks to notice the approaching footsteps.

You turn to friend and classmate, Mark, who’s out of breath and sweating from practically every gland of his body. He’s bent over with his hands on his knees and he’s trying to catch his breath. His glasses are slipping down the bridge of nose, but he quickly catches it with the tip of his index finger.

You can’t help but let out a laugh, “Ah, Mark… you’re late…” You pick up the bag of candy canes and sigh, “Again.” 

A sense of déjà vu washes over you. This exact occurrence has been happening for a week straight now and you’re trying to figure out how Mark even manages to pull the same thing each day. It was actually kind of cute, if you had to admit just once, and you’re admittedly curious as to what’s causing him to pull up to the table 30 seconds late. 

“I think my phone’s clock is three minutes too fast,” Mark frowns, eyes round as he brings his phone’s screen up to his face. 

You start walking down the hall and toward Mrs. Kim’s room, where everything was kept between days, “You do know that the clocks on our phones can’t be early, right?” 

Mark nods, though you don’t see. He’s still trailing right behind you, even into the classroom, “I know, but I just needed to blame something.” 

You two approach a closet at the corner of the classroom and you use a key to open it up. You place the things inside, making sure it’s neat and tidy and somewhere slightly hidden in case students decide to break in. You don’t mind Mark seeing where you hide it, though. You trust him. 

The boy gulps before he goes to ask you a question, “Hey, for the Winter Dance—”

“How were the sales today, Y/N?” 

Mark is interrupted by Mrs. Kim, who’s returning from her own lunch break. She glances at Mark and greets him at the same time.

“I think today had the most sales so far,” you reply, “So it went well! Do you want me to leave the finished grams here? I already organized them by class.” Shutting the door, you lock the closet.  

Mrs. Kim nods and makes room on her desk for the bag, “Yes please. Chenle and Jisung are coming in a bit to pick them up. Thanks for your help, Y/N.” 

You bow your head and offer a smile before you turn to leave, Mark following not too far behind. 

“What were you saying?” You look up at him, slowing your pace.

“Hm?” Mark’s head crooks to the side, “When?” Did he accidentally say something out loud?

“Before Mrs. Kim came in. You were saying something but I didn’t catch it.” 

Mark’s heart skips a beat and his eyes widen. Lucky for him, you don’t notice, eyes dead set on your guys’ classroom, “Oh… uh–I forgot.” Mark knows damn well what he wanted to ask you. But the confidence he had built up at that moment dies along with his words and he figures that he’ll just try again another day. He tries his best to play it off, throwing in a sheepish laugh to spice it up, “But if it comes up again, I’ll make sure to say it.” 

“You’re young and you’re already forgetful,” you joke, rolling your eyes playfully, “But okay, fine by me.” You turn to sit at your desk, seeing that Yeri’s already at her’s, but you stop yourself and turn back to Mark, “Are you going to be late tomorrow, again?”

Mark feels his cheeks heat up and his head lowers in embarrassment, “I’ll try not to.”

You let out a snort and nod, this time actually heading to your seat. 

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

When Chenle and Jisung come around to hand out the candy grams, students around you perk up in anticipation of receiving one. Yeri nudges your arm when the boys start passing them out, plopping the very same candy grams you finished at lunch.

“Brighten up, you might get one today,” she whispers. Her eyes follow Chenle, who’s approaching the both of you. 

“I know I’m not getting one, Yers,” you shake your head, “I made them.”

“Yeah but that doesn’t mean you can’t get one,” she groans, “Maybe you’re not getting one because you’re being a Negative Nancy.” 

“Please never say that again,” you narrow your eyes at her. 

And when Chenle and Jisung start making their way toward the door and your desk is still empty, you turn to give Yeri a I told you so look.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

Mark’s leg bounces out of anticipation as his eyes wander off to the clock hanging crookedly at the other corner of the room. He has 5 minutes to get up and leave and make it to the candy gram booth. But with the way Renjun was going on and on about an excerpt he had written for this week’s writing club meeting, Mark feels like he’s barely going to make it again.

For some reason, the hormones in his body are causing his heart to knock against his chest repeatedly. He can hear it pounding in his ears, practically drowning out Renjun’s voice. 

Sure buying those candy grams didn’t seem like that big of a deal to anyone else in the group, but to Mark, it was part of a plan he’s had written down in the notes app of his phone since November—asking you out to the winter dance through a gram. Mark knows that he can’t trust himself when it comes to verbally asking you. So a candy gram should do it (yes, he’s aware that’s a little bit dumb but it’s the thought that counts). 

The second that Renjun concludes his piece, Mark is up and out of the room, putting his chair in its rightful place behind a desk. He’s practically sprinting down the hall, slowing down into a walking pace when he passes by doors just so he wouldn’t be stopped and delayed for longer if a teacher had caught him running down the hall like some delinquent. 

He can see the intersection of the hallway where you always set the table up and he books it, the single strap of his backpack hanging on for dear life.

“Am I late?”

Mark stands in front of you, hands on his knees and he’s panting. It was the same exact scene as yesterday. “Please tell me I’m not.” 

You frown, glancing at the table you had just pushed up against the wall, “Sorry, Mark.” 

He groans, “I need to start leaving earlier.” Mark begins to trail you from behind, feet heavy from missing the candy grams yet again. 

“If it makes you feel any better, you have one more week,” you point out. Your arms wrap around the piggy bank and the coins jingle inside. Today was particularly more busy than the previous days. You question, “What do you even do over lunch?”

“I have clubs I go to,” Mark chews on his bottom lip, “It’s kind of stupid—”

“It’s not stupid if you enjoy it,” you shrug. He watches as you tuck the piggy bank and the extra candy canes at the back of the closet before shutting it, “And if you’re always running late you must actually enjoy them.” 

“I guess so,” Mark says quietly. “I’ll come in time tomorrow.” He says this more for himself than for you. 

You laugh, “We’ll see, Mark Lee.” Looking down at the bag of candy canes, you pull one out and hold it out to him, halting just outside of Mrs. Kim’s room, “I’ll give you one for free~” 

Mark stops and blinks at the candy cane in your hand and he sighs. The candy canes weren’t even the reason why he desperately wanted to buy the grams. He can quite literally drop by the store on the way home and get a pack himself if he wanted. 

Mark simply just wanted to get this plan done and over with. He wants to know if you’re going to reject him or if you’re going to say yes. But because this was being drawn out like some imperfect line across a ridiculously long page, he’s not going to know until he gets his hands on one of the candy grams.

But still, Mark lets himself smile at the gesture, hand grazing yours as he takes it, “Thanks, Y/N.”

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

For the next week, Mark (unsurprisingly) arrives late. He catches you either already cleaning the table up or already walking down to Mrs. Kim’s classroom to store the things. And everytime he does come late, Mark wants to beat himself up for it. 

But on the last day, you’re caught by surprise when Mark approaches you in the middle of setting up the booth. For once he isn’t out of breath, and he’s not sweating and hunched over. It was a refreshing sight—amusing, even. The effort this boy was putting into holiday candy grams was endearing and you hope that the people he’s sending his grams to know it. 

“First one here,” you giggle, “How many do you want?”

“Seven,” Mark shoots, “Please.” 

“Seven’s a lot,” You nod, sliding the seven slips of paper before you retrieve the money from him, “Do you know what to do?” 

“Um… just got a lot of people I care about,” Mark retorts. He grabs the slips of paper, a sigh of relief slipping out of his lips, “Thank you.” 

Mark disappears for a good while, though you can see him bent over a table across the hall, scribbling into the blanks like he was supposed to. He looked rather focused, mouthing the small messages he’s leaving on the candy grams. A small part of you is nosy, wanting to know who he’s sending these candy grams to and what messages he’s writing so intently. 

Once he’s finished, Mark returns to the table, placing the candy grams on the table in front of you, “Thanks, Y/N… I can’t talk right now—I do want to catch up with my club—but I’ll talk to you later?” 

You smile gently, taking the filled out candy grams, “Of course. I’m just glad you were able to actually get these today.” 

“Believe me, I am too,” Mark sends a warm smile before he bids you goodbye.

You huff and begin prepping the 7 candy canes for Mark’s seven candy grams. You go ahead and rip 7, inch-long, pieces of tape for each one and start your routine, taping each candy cane to each sheet of paper. 

“Last one,” you mutter to yourself, taking the 7th candy cane between your fingertips. 

When you go to grab the last slip of paper, you’re sent into a brief state of confusion when you don’t actually find a seventh slip. Your brows furrow and you let out an audible ‘huh?’ as you try to search your proximity for that last candy gram.

Did you miscount? Or did Mark just not use it? He could have gotten a refund if he wasn’t going to use it…  Why didn’t he tell you anything?

After thinking hard on it, you let the problem go for now, making a small reminder to yourself to ask Mark about it later.

Chenle and Jisung come to your guys’ class just before the day ends and you would be lying if you said that you had just the slightest bit of hope that you’d receive one since it was the last day—cause surely, for the entire two weeks you’ve been out at lunch selling that damn things, you’d get one, right? 

Sometimes, anticipation was a bitch. It was killing you watching Chenle and Jisung pull out each one from their shared bag, searching the room for the person receiving a damn gram before scurrying down the aisle of desks and plopping it down gently. With each one they would quietly say a ‘for you’ before turning back to the bag to grab the next one. 

Hope was a bitch, too.

“Once again, sorry for interrupting,” Chenle apologizes to your teacher before dragging Jisung out of the room. 

Just as they slip out of the classroom, the bell rings and you don’t find the energy to stand up just yet, eyes staring blankly at your empty desk. 

“You should have just let me get you one, Y/N,” Yeri frowns, rubbing the middle of your back for comfort. She knows exactly how you’re feeling right now, “Want me to treat you to ice cream later? Bubble tea? Anything?”

You shake your head and try to prop a smile on your face, “No, it’s fine, Yers. I just thought that…” Mark.  “Nevermind… Let’s just go.”

You finally push yourself up from your desk and grab your belongings. You leave the room in a hurry, Yeri struggling to keep up with your quick movements. 

From afar, right by your locker, you spot Mark standing there patiently with his hands buried deep into his pockets. And with the boring class you had just had and not receiving a candy gram yet again, you almost forgot that you had to ask Mark about the 7th gram—better yet—he was probably at your locker to tell you about it. 

“Mark,” you greet. Your fingers start fiddling with your lock as you absentmindedly put in your combination, “I wanted to talk to you about the candy grams.” 

“I was actually here for the same reason.” There’s a tone in Mark’s voice that catches you off guard. There’s a slight hint of uneasiness, “Um… and…”

“And?” Now he’s caught your attention. You don’t realize that Yeri’s standing by her own locker, trying to subtly listen in on the conversation. 

“Wait–uh–let me start with the candy gram first because then it can play out, I guess?” Mark shakes his head at how awkward he’s being before pulling out that 7th slip of paper from his pocket, “I…” He goes to read it, taking in a deep breath, eyes scanning it before he hurriedly sticks it out to you, “I was supposed to hand this in earlier at lunch but I figured that since you, you know, were the one doing the candy grams, I didn’t want you seeing it at such an awkward time?”

You’re frozen in place, gently taking the candy gram. With your heart skipping beats and the butterflies suddenly erupting in your stomach, your eyes bulge out of your eyes as you read your name on the sheet in Mark’s handwriting. This was a candy gram for you. To you, From Mark. Your first ever candy gram and it was from Mark. 

Your attention flies straight to the note in the given space beneath the To and the From. 

Your heart skips another beat. 

Winter Dance with me?

“I-I’m sorry there’s no candy cane with it or anything and I don’t have any chocolates or some present to give you and this is such a lame way to ask you to the dance I meant it to be a bit more romantic than this but—”

You cut off Mark’s rambling, “Yes.” 

“W-what?”

“Yes, I’ll go to the dance with you.”

taglist: @tytrackfebreze @lovesuhng @hoonieji @dinonuguaegi @niinjo (couldn't tag :(()

an: first part of my series YAY ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ meant to post it earlier but school and duties call rip,, i hope you enjoyed this! pls leave a like or rb if you enjoyed it and i wanna hear your thoughts on this;; it was the first one I wrote for this so I'm not sure if it's cute :( anyways THANKS FOR READING!

[genderqueerdykes]

Hi! another Nonbinary person affected by transandrophobia/exosexism here, I sent one message but felt like I didn't have m thoughts in line in regards to specific examples of m experience, so here's a more comprehensive (but not exhaustive) list. (Note: I'm including examples of both because in my experience the transandrophobia and exosexism are deeply intertwined) 1) Grew up in a very trans-friendly Anglican community, and when I was nine I thought I'd try going by any pronouns. I dropped that within six months after no one took it seriously and only called me she/her.

2) When I first considered being trans at thirteen, I went back in the closet mostly because of that transtrender shit. It was 2017 but I'd seen the anti-SJW movement use it so much in my preteens that I thought I was a girl faking being trans for attention 3) When I was 15 and came out, m parents took me to a "Gender therapist" who repeatedly dismissed my problems and misgendered me intentionally because she didn't take my transition seriously. 4) my school just happened to be making a "Girls and nonbinary club", which upset me a lot because I didn't want to be lumped in with the girls 5) When I was 17, well out of the closet by now, a stranger at school began intentionally dead naming me at school every day just to be malicious because I was seen as a weak girl and an easy target. I corrected him politely or ignored him for two months until he deadnamed me into a microphone at a grad event in front of the entire grade-- including friends who hadn't known my dead name 6) when I started T, it had to be delayed because the didn't trust me to make a decision about my own reproductive health. Despite the fact I was medically emancipated, they demanded my parent's consent to me possibly losing my fertility.

thank you so much for taking the time to share your experience, it's important that you are heard. i am so sorry you have gone through all of these things, none of that is necessary. i don't know why people think they have the right to be so invasive and mean. what the fuck. take care of yourself anon, you didn't deserve any of that

[roosterforme]

The Intern Part 1 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: After you try to delay the inevitable, you begin your job search. At least that way you'll be able to get out of your father's house and away from everyone who acts like you're incapable of doing anything on your own. When Bradley pursues you, in part to bolster his own agenda, he's pretty convinced you're more capable than most.

Warnings: Language, reader's dad has a name (eventually 18+)

Length: 3700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Find the Prologue here.

The Intern masterlist. Check out my masterlist for more. Banner by @mak-32

Your father wasted no time over the breakfast that his chef made. You were still in your pajamas which consisted of a white silk camisole and shorts set, but he was already in a charcoal suit and tie, ready to seize the day. Or at the very least, your freedom.

"You need an internship," he said firmly as he smeared jelly on a piece of toast. "You need to complete a professional internship to show everyone that you are clever and talented and can think on your feet. You need to show them in person that your last name has nothing to do with it."

This was going to be a lot more involved than you originally thought. You carefully cut into your poached egg and asked, "So I can't just intern with you?"

He sighed and gave you a bland look. "I would love to have you with me all day and show you the ropes at Avio Technologies, but you already know that's not possible. You need to find a different department or a different company altogether." 

You chewed your food and shot him a bland look of your own. It was almost amusing that he thought he could outwit you when he was the one who taught you how to play all of his games. "Maybe we could talk about this tomorrow?"

"You already got an extra day out of me, Sweetheart. My generosity has been all used up." 

He looked almost amused now, so you knew you were skating on thin ice as you said, "I think an internship that starts in September would be the way to go."

When he set his knife down and bit into his toast, you straightened your back while he chewed. He took his time responding, and when he did, he asked, "And what exactly would you do during June, July and August?"

"There's a lot to be said for a little relaxation, Daddy," you told him in your most professional voice. "I've spent the last six years working nearly every day."

"And I've spent the last thirty five years working nearly every day. Please, get to your point."

You folded your hands in front of yourself and said, "I would be a better intern if I were well rested."

He wiped his mouth with his napkin and stood, taking one last sip of his coffee. If you or he wanted more to eat, his chef would make it. And you could see his housekeeper standing in the kitchen doorway ready to run in and clean up after him as soon as he left the dining room. All of it made you want to scream. You weren't even sure you wanted this lifestyle. 

"Are you aware of the stipulations on your trust fund?" your father asked you in a voice laced with more than warning. You could feel the blood rush from your face. You'd been waiting your entire life for that money, and not because you wanted to use it the same way he did. 

"Yes."

He nodded at you before he kissed your forehead. "Then make your decisions accordingly. I'll be back in a few hours."

As soon as he was out of the dining room, his housekeeper had her hands on his empty plate and coffee cup, and you abandoned the rest of your food for the relative solace of your bedroom. It wasn't even nine o'clock yet, but it was close to lunchtime on the east coast. Maybe you could call one of your friends from school, but they were probably starting internships of their own this week. You glanced out your windows at the pool, but the landscaping crew was out there with leaf blowers, so you just flopped down onto your bed.

What did you want out of an internship? You wanted it to be like school. You had no problem with hard work, but you preferred it to come with a hefty side of fun. Cocktails, dancing, late night dinners, boys, shopping. You weren't too picky about how that fun was served up, but you were absolutely certain there was more to life than working nonstop. And nobody in their right mind needed as much money as your father had.

You reached for your computer and rolled onto your stomach. The last place you wanted to intern was at Avio Technologies where your supervisor would report every detail of your work back to him. Even if you found a department that had nothing to do with what he was working on, you'd be screwed. Your dad knew everyone. He'd find out if you forgot to cover your mouth when you coughed or yawned too loudly. No, you needed to find something without your dad's help.

After you update your résumé and your LinkedIn profile, you thought about contacting that hot recruiter you met in grad school. You were pretty sure you still had his number in your phone contacts. Maybe you should make a to-do list. Or maybe you should go back to bed now that your dad was gone. You ended up lounging around for so long that your stomach was growling because of your unfinished breakfast. 

"Fuck it," you murmured, strolling out of your room still in your silk pajamas. If the groundskeepers saw you as you walked past the French doors, then it was their own fault. And honestly, you were more covered up now than you were when you were wearing your bathing suit anyway.

The fact that you had to sneak into the kitchen so nobody tried to help you toast a slice of bread was beyond annoying, but you tiptoed through the house anyway. You ended up walking around as you ate the toast, probably leaving a trail of crumbs, but at least this way the housekeeper would be entertained again. You wondered what the staff did all day long when it was only your dad here. He could literally take care of himself if he tried, but why try when you're worth billions?

You popped the last bite into your mouth and started dancing through the foyer to the song that was stuck in your head. You did a few spins and pirouettes, and then you started making up an actual routine as you hummed. When you heard the front door open, you tried to freeze, but your foot caught on the marble floor, and you stumbled awkwardly. Just when you braced yourself for a lecture from your father, you were greeted by deep laughter and amused brown eyes instead.

"Oh," you said, pressing your palm to your chest as you regained your footing. "It's just you."

"Just me," Bradley Bradshaw replied with a shrug. He surveyed your body, and you could tell he was trying his best not to react to your outfit. Or lack thereof.

You crossed your arms over your chest. "Yes. I'm still in my pajamas."

"I didn't say a word about it," he replied immediately, those brown eyes suddenly feigning innocence. 

You knew your shorts left nothing to the imagination. You were also very aware that your nipples were probably peaked against your silk top, but you kept reminding yourself you were wearing less than this yesterday in the pool. Bradley however was wearing another designer suit that hugged him in all the right places, and his tie was once again a little too loose for you to take him completely seriously. His hair was a bit mussed today, too. Maybe his wife or girlfriend had run her fingers through it, but if that was the case, then he shouldn't be looking at you this way.

"What are you doing here?" you asked him. 

His hands were back on his narrow hips as he replied, "Supposed to have lunch with your father."

"At least the chef and housekeeper will have something to do," you muttered to yourself. Then a little louder you said, "My dad's not back yet, and I hope you don't expect me to entertain you."

He chuckled. "Of course not. You look busy as hell dancing around. I definitely wouldn't want to interrupt that."

"Correct," you replied, tipping your chin in the air. "I've got no time for nonsense. Unless... did you bring your Armani swim trunks? It's a little early in the day for skinny dipping." You took a step closer to him. You couldn't pinpoint exactly why it was so fun to tease him, but he looked down at the floor and blushed a little bit before he replied which made you feel even bolder. 

He met your eyes and said, "How embarrassing. I'm too early for lunch, and I'm too early for skinny dipping." His voice was a little softer now and you bit your lip, which drew his gaze to your mouth.

"You could always come back later."

His amused smile from yesterday was back as he said, "You really are a bit of a brat."

Then your father was right there, closing the front door behind him with a flourish as you took a step away from Bradley. He hadn't moved an inch, and his eyes were still on yours even as your father said his name.

"Sir," Bradley replied, turning toward him and holding out his hand. Your father shook it before patting him on the shoulder. 

"We've been over this before, Bradley. You can call me Ted. We've been working together for a while."

"Ted," Bradley repeated, and you could tell that your father was secretly pleased by this show of respect. You wanted to roll your eyes, and then you realized that you were standing in the foyer in your pajama set at noon, and that was going to be a problem. 

When your father turned toward you, his gaze was unamused. "Have you done anything today?"

"It's only lunchtime, Daddy," you replied. "But I updated my résumé."

"You have something better than a résumé," he snapped. "You have connections. Use them. I want you to have solidified an internship by the end of the week."

"But-"

He cut you right off, and you could feel the heat rising to your face as Bradley looked at you a little sympathetically. 

"I don't generally deal with people who force me to repeat myself," your father said. "And I think you'll find I'm not the only one."

Now you were getting a little angry. He was talking to you like you just tanked a business deal for him. "I'm not some random person from your company."

But you could tell he wasn't listening now. He wouldn't really listen again until you had a job. "Once you find yourself an internship, I think you'll see that whomever you're working under won't take kindly to that sort of attitude. Now go get dressed," he said, dismissing you as he nodded toward the dining room and started walking. 

You were left standing there with your hands on your silk covered hips and your bottom lip held firmly between your teeth. Bradley was giving you a curious look as he started to follow your father. "I'll see you around?"

"Yeah," you replied, barely meeting his eyes. Your dad embarrassed you in front of him. And sure, maybe you should have been dressed for the day, but you just got back to California. You wanted a chance to catch your breath. But now you were standing there watching both of their retreating forms with a bad taste in your mouth.

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

After an uneventful lunch with Ted, Bradley walked slowly back through his house. It was really more of a mansion or an estate, something that Bradley supposed he himself could afford now if he so desired, but he was used to his condo in Mission Hills. And he just couldn't picture having staff living with him. 

He found that his head was on a swivel, peeking out the French doors to check the pool area and glancing up the main stairs to see if you were still around. A smile always crept to his lips whenever he thought about you, and it was obvious why. You were clearly a bit of a handful. Definitely a touch bratty. Old enough to know better, but young enough to not give too much of a damn. And you always made Bradley laugh. 

At Christmastime, you were tipsy and tried to get him to drink a bottle of wine with you. He spent the rest of the night wondering what would have happened if he actually followed you into your father's kitchen, just the two of you. If anyone else happened upon that scene, he figured it would have gotten back to Ted. It was probably for the best that someone else had interrupted that. 

But now his mind was swirling with information. You needed an internship. Bradley was headed off to Europe and could use an extra hand with work all summer. There would be endless meetings and constant schmoozing about the proprietary missile guiding software that Avio Technologies was currently peddling to the US Navy. Bradley was silently dreading doing it alone. 

You might also serve as a useful source of information. If anyone knew what exactly was going on at Avio regarding the misuse of funds that he was certain he'd stumbled upon, Bradley was sure it would be Ted. Your father knew everyone. He had his hands in the research end of things where Bradley worked as well as the sales end of things where his old friend Jake Seresin was currently dabbling. 

This is why Bradley was spending so much of his time here now; he was looking for information. And also for Ted's daughter. If he could appeal to your tastes as far as a job went, maybe he could get you to join him for the summer. 

"Once again, I'm sorry about my daughter," Ted said with a sigh as he walked Bradley across the foyer. "She's stubborn. Headstrong. She wants to have her own agenda. She'll make an exceptional CFO someday."

Bradley couldn't help but chuckle. "Something tells me you're right."

"She just has a lot to learn about staying in your pajamas until noon and working your connections to your benefit, but she'll get there," he replied with a wave of his hand. 

Bradley glanced up the stairs one more time, hoping for a glimpse of white silk and your pretty face, but you had tucked yourself away somewhere out of sight. "Thanks for lunch," Bradley said, holding out his hand for Ted to shake. "I always appreciate when you let me pick your brain, sir."

He chuckled and clapped Bradley on the back again. "How many times do I have to tell you to use my first name?"

"Always one more, I guess," Bradley replied, heading toward the front door with a smile. "See you at the office later this week."

Once he was outside in the sunlight, he slipped on his favorite pair of aviators he'd had since he first started flying F/A-18s and headed for his SUV. He walked past an assortment of sports cars in the circular drive before he got to his more modest black Range Rover Velar. As he drove back into the city to the office, he already started to formulate a plan. He just hoped you'd be around when he showed up again tomorrow. You were already integral to his agenda. 

When his phone rang, he took it in the car as he wove through traffic. He didn't even check the number since only a handful of people had it. "Bradshaw," he said as he pulled up to a red light. "Bradley, it's Judy." He sighed and relaxed back against the seat; his receptionist was exceptional. She could take a pile of bullshit and whittle it down to the bare minimum of necessary information for him. He needed to give her another raise. "I have a few résumés here, and some of them were dropped off by hand. You know... a few Vice Presidents are trying to get their kids jobs in the software development lab. There are also some who are hoping for professional internships. Want to look at them, or should I toss them?"

Bradley ran his hand over his mouth before he said, "I'm on my way back to the office now. I'll take a look at them, but I'm hoping I found an alternative solution to a professional intern that might just be perfect."

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

The following morning, you stood in your closet and held up your white bikini. You looked at it longingly, ran your fingers along the cute triangles that made up the top and wrapped the ties around your fingers before tossing it aside. Instead, you changed out of your pink nightie into an outfit that your father would probably refer to as 'smart casual' as soon as he saw you.

But you were alone for breakfast, because he was already gone for the day. When his chef asked you what you wanted to eat, she looked annoyed when you said cereal and fruit and told her you could get it yourself. The refrigerator was completely stocked, and you loved that your dad had removed cherries from his shopping lists since you found out you were allergic. 

You swiped a peach and some berries onto the counter and started cutting them up, and now the chef looked like she was about to faint. You added them to the top of your cereal bowl and smiled pleasantly at her before you headed into the dining room with your coffee and breakfast. You'd have to contact some potential employers today. You already knew that. But you found yourself lingering over your meal until the cereal was soggy, trying to put off the inevitable a little longer. 

You bargained with yourself. If you spent the morning looking for an internship, then you could lounge by the pool for the afternoon. "Excellent bargaining. You're so smart," you told yourself as you returned your dirty dishes to the kitchen while the housekeeper bounced on her feet nervously. She met you at the sink and snagged everything out of your hands. 

With your computer on your lap, you sat on the couch and made a list of companies in San Diego that might fit the bill. The problem was, Avio was at the top of the list, simply because of the sheer number of different departments housed in the main office downtown. When you clicked on the Research and Development header, you saw a smug looking photo of Bradley Bradshaw and started to laugh. 

"Clearly you know you're handsome," you muttered, reading about him in his short bio. Department Lead for Research and Development at Avio Technologies. Fifteen years as a US Naval aviator. Retired with medals of honor and a rank of Lieutenant Commander. Leading Avio in cutting edge research for naval aircraft software. "Impressive."

You scrolled through a few other departments and made a separate list of people to ask your father to introduce you to. When your stomach started growling, you realized it was already noon. "Time flies when you're not having fun," you murmured as you dashed upstairs, your bikini calling to you like a siren song. 

Only because it would be convenient, you decided to ask the chef to make you lunch so you could eat it outside by the pool. You were just tying your sheer beach cover up over your bathing suit and leaving your room when you heard your dad's voice along with some others. As silently as you could, you tiptoed barefoot down the main stairs, looked both ways and dashed to the left toward the French doors. And then you slammed directly into someone.

"Shit," you whispered, grabbing onto an Armani suit while hands came up to your back to steady you. Then you looked up into those same pretty brown eyes as the big hands tightened around your waist. "It's you again."

Bradley was laughing, and the deep rumble had you pressing yourself against him. "Me again."

You tried not to laugh as you whispered, "If you come with me, you can ditch the rest of the suits." For some reason, you wanted him to join you on the patio, just like he had the other day. He'd ditched everyone else for your company then, and you wanted him to do precisely that again.

You tugged him toward the doors, but he just shook his head. "It's too early for skinny dipping, remember?" A rather inappropriate retort was poised and ready to go, just sitting on the tip of your tongue, but he added, "But I actually was looking for you."

Now your heart fluttered. "You were?"

"Mmhmm," he hummed, releasing his hold on you. Your initial instinct was to whine until he touched you again, and you had to bite your lip to prevent another embarrassing moment. "I couldn't help but overhear yesterday that you're looking for a professional internship."

When he paused, you said, "I am. Go on."

He smirked, and he looked so much like his photo on the Avio Technologies website, you almost started laughing again. "I think I have something that could be exactly what you're looking for. Are you free tomorrow?"

"I could be. As long as it doesn't interfere with my sunbathing," you told him, and you watched his Adam's apple bob as his gaze dipped briefly to your chest. 

Your breath caught in your throat as that pretty pink color flooded his cheeks. He reached into his pocket without taking his eyes off your face and then held a business card between his index and middle fingers right in front of your lips. "Call my office this afternoon. Judy will set something up for tomorrow." He paused again. "If you're interested."

You plucked the card from his grasp, and he smiled as he turned to his left and headed for your father's conference room. As you studied the tidy font, you wondered what he was looking for in an intern. You wondered what he could offer you. After a quick detour to grab your phone, you went outside to make a call.

You were interested. 

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

Interested is an understatement for me. Offer her a job, Bradley! And pack you swim shorts, baby boy. Thank you @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 2

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

@solacestyles

@daisyhollyxox

@wintercap89

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@chaoticassidy

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@tallyovie

@shanimallina87

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@lilyevanswhore

@xoxabs88xox

@thedroneranger

@bradshawsbitch

@cherrycola27

@fanboyswhore9

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

@sylviebell

@wkndwlff

@horseslovers2016

@gennyanydots

@mattyskies

@hookslove1592

@blahehblah

@sadpetalsstuff

@local-spidey

@schoollover

@lex-winchester

@magicalmorg

@nicole01-23

@jessicab1991

@happyrebelruins

@samsgoddess

@ughthisisntright

@bellaireland1981

@sagittarius-flowerchild

[sequinsmile-x]

Here, There and Everywhere

She’d spent the last several weeks thinking Aaron was overreacting when he spoke about him, joking that he was never exactly a fan of new additions to his team - her included - but now she thinks he may have actually undersold how irritating her replacement actually was.

AKA - the one where Emily goes to the office for some much needed adult company, and her replacement at the BAU flirts with her, much to Aaron's irritation.

-x-

Hi besties,

I know I promised this one last week, so sorry for the delay! It took a little while to get this one out of my head and into a document.

Anyway, I thought after all the angst last week I owed you all something a little bit silly...so here we are. And, it's been a while since I wrote some jealous Aaron.

As always, let me know what you think!

-x-

Warnings: None

Words: 3k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily always told herself that she wouldn’t speak to her children, if she ever had them, in a baby voice. It was something she’d maintained throughout her pregnancy, content to speak to her bump - her son - as if he were an adult who could take part in a conversation with her. All the books she’d read said it was good for his development, so when Lucas was born and laid on her chest for the first time, she said hello like he was someone she’d known her whole life, a person whose face she hadn’t known but whose heart she had. 

The problem was, Lucas found it hilarious when she spoke to him in the high-pitched, silly voice she usually only reserved for Sergio, and her resolve was slowly breaking. They’d discovered it by accident. Aaron had been holding Lucas, pacing with him back and forth in the living room in an attempt to get him to sleep, and Emily had been trying to clip Sergio’s claws, talking to him to soothe him. Aaron had called her over because Lucas was smiling for the first time, a proper, beautiful, smile, and it hadn’t taken them long to realise why. He smiled every time she spoke to Sergio in the voice she swore she’d never used on her son, and slowly but surely over the last couple of weeks she’d started talking to him like that whenever she wanted to see him smile. 

It’s how she finds herself with her back against the arm of the couch and her feet planted firmly in front of her, Lucas lying securely against her thighs, as she talks to her 8-week-old son in a high-pitched tone, purposely making sure she speaks slowly to draw out his wide, gummy smiles she couldn’t wait to one day soon give way to a laugh. She’d completely lost track of time since Jack had gone to school, wholly unaware how much time she’d sat on the couch with her youngest in her lap, his tiny fists wrapped around her index fingers as she moved his arms back and forth.

“You are the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” she says, tickling Lucas’s belly, her smile impossibly wide, “And Daddy and the team got back this morning, so he’ll be home tonight to see how much cuter you you’ve gotten since he saw you a few days ago.” 

Aaron had started going away with the team again when Lucas turned one month old. For the last month of her pregnancy, and the first of Lucas’s life, Aaron stayed home. Always on hand when she needed him, never further away than the office, even if the rest of the team were on the other side of the country. It was something he’d insisted on, a lesson he’d learnt from his past and one she couldn’t have dissuaded him from even if she’d wanted to. She missed him when he was away. 

It was something she knew she’d have to get used to. The start of her maternity leave had signalled the end of her time at the FBI, and the end of spending most of her time with her husband. It wasn’t a decision she’d taken lightly, but she knew it was the right one. She had a job lined up at Interpol, one in DC that Clyde had never stopped offering her after she turned down his offer of a job in London, and the job was hers as soon as she was ready for it. She didn’t have a set time yet, didn’t know when she would want to start work again, for now, she was soaking up every amazing, exhausting part of having a baby. 

Lucas blows a spit bubble at her, the closest he was capable of responding to her, and she sighs, stroking her finger back and forth over the swirl of his dark hair. 

As much as she loved all of this time with him, she missed having adult company. She loved Lucas and Jack in ways she hadn’t known were possible, but she missed adult conversation. Missed talking about anything other than dinosaurs and sharks with her eldest, and only getting grunts, spit bubbles and cries back from her youngest.

“Look at those cheeks,” she exclaims, poking at them, watching as Lucas’s smile follows her touch, his dimples showing themselves. She and Aaron would always playfully argue about where he got them from, each saying it was from the other. “How did I make someone so perfect?” 

Her attention is pulled away from him when the doorbell rings, and she sighs, lifting him and standing up in one well-practised movement, holding him against her chest as she walks towards the front door. She checks the peephole and sees the mailman on the porch, and she smiles as she pulls the door open.

“Package for you, Mrs Hotchner.” He says, and she smiles and takes it from him, Lucas secure against her chest with one hand.

“Thank you,” She says, and her eyes go wide as she speaks, and she sees the mailman’s go wide too, as her voice comes out high-pitched and slow like she’d been talking to Lucas all morning. She clears her throat, her cheeks burning with embarrassment, “I’m sorry,” she nods down to Lucas, “I,-”

“That’s okay, Mrs Hotchner,” he says, his own cheeks tinged pink, “I have little ones myself. I know what it’s like.” 

She smiles gratefully and nods, stepping back into the house. “Thanks, again.” She groans as soon as the door is closed behind her, dropping the package she didn’t even remember ordering to the floor. She looks down at Lucas, shaking her head when he smiles at her, and she kisses the top of his head, “Okay, sweet boy. Shall we go see Daddy and all your friends at work?” She says, kissing his head again, “Mommy needs to speak to some other grown-ups.” 

___

Lucas is a hit with the security guards when Emily gets to Quantico. 

They are people she’s seen more often than she can count, people she’s said hi to most mornings and evenings the last several years, but she’s never seen their eyes light up like she does when she walks in with Lucas in his car seat. They fuss over him and they say he looks just like Aaron - just like everyone had ever since he’d been born. It felt typical that she’d been the one to be sick for months, that she was the one who’d grown him from scratch, and that he’d come out looking exactly like his father - right down to the frown that would spread across his face when he was grumpy or hungry. She playfully grumbled everytime someone said something about it, but she loved it. She’d always wanted more of Aaron in the world, wanted more of him to share with everyone else. More of her Aaron. Kind and sweet and funny in a way most people didn’t see, and now she had it. 

Lucas starts to fuss the moment they are in the elevator, and she shushes him, “Mommy will get you out in a minute, okay,” she says, clearing her throat to force herself out of the high pitched voice she’d been using on him all morning, well aware that someone - Derek - would make fun of her if she did it in front of the team, “We’re almost there.” 

She sighs in relief when the elevator doors open and Aaron is standing there, his smile and his arms ready and waiting for the two of them. 

“Hi,” she breathes out, stepping out of the elevator to hug him, “I missed you.” 

“I missed you too,” he replies, kissing her temple before he pulls back, smiling when Lucas grunts, attempting to wriggle in his car seat, “I missed all of you. Can I get him out?” 

She rolls her eyes at him, “Of course you can,” she says, holding up the car seat so he can access Lucas a little easier. “He’s your son too.” 

Aaron unclips Lucas from the car seat and holds him against his chest, “Hi, buddy,” he says, kissing the top of his head, “Did you and Jack look after Mommy whilst I was gone?” 

She hums and runs her fingers through Lucas’s hair as they start to walk towards the bullpen, “If keeping me awake all night counts as looking after me then, yes, he’s been doing that.” 

He winces sympathetically, “I’ll take the night shift tonight,” he promises, “Give you a break.” 

They are cut off by a squeal from Penelope the second they are in the bullpen, her hands clasped together as she walks over, “He is just the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Hotch is taken, Garcia, you know that, right?” Dave says, winking as Penelope rolls her eyes at him, “I don’t fancy your chances against Prentiss,” he adds, his hand on Emily’s shoulder as he joins them, running his knuckle up and down Lucas’s cheek as he talks to the baby, “Sembri proprio tuo padre.”

“He doesn’t speak Italian Nonno Rossi,” Penelope quips, and Dave raises his eyebrow at her, his smirk only getting wider.

“He’s two months old. He doesn’t speak English either,” Dave says as he turns his attention to Emily, “How are you doing Bella?”

“I’m okay, tired,” she says, sighing contentedly, “Starved of adult company, happier than I’ve ever been,” she admits, “You know…the usual.” 

“Can anyone join this welcoming party?” 

Emily looks up as Derek and an agent she’d never met before walks over to join them, “Derek,” she says, pulling him into a hug, “It’s good to see you.” 

“You too,” he says, squeezing her before he pulls back, “And Mini Hotch,” he adds, his smile getting wider when she narrows her eyes at the nickname for her son, and he nods towards Aaron, “Big Hotch is grumpier than usual now you aren’t around all the time.” 

The agent she’s never met before clears this throat, “Is no one going to introduce me?” 

“This is Emily, Hotch’s better half,” Derek says as he looks at her, “And Emily this is Agent Lee Micthell, he’s our new agent on the team.” 

“I’m your replacement I believe,” Agent Mitchell says as he offers his hand out to her, looking her up and down in a way that makes her have to grit her teeth, a polite smile she’d learnt to use when she was a teenager and grown men used to look at her in the same way spreading across her face, “You look good for someone who had a baby a couple of months ago.” 

“Thank you,” she says, clearing her throat to prepare herself to do her best impression of her mother, a lie she’d heard more times than she cared to count on the tip of her tongue, “It’s good to meet you.” 

Aaron had told her all about Agent Mitchell, and she had a feeling he wouldn’t last long at the BAU. He made a lot of choices already that Aaron didn’t like, choices that in the wrong circumstances could put someone in danger, and from she understood he had only risen through the ranks because his father was good friends with the Deputy Director. He reminded her of a lot of men she’d known over the years - far too confident of himself and his mediocre skills, and just charming enough she’s sure she would have fallen for it when she was younger. 

“It’s good to meet you too,” he says, “It’s a shame we never crossed paths professionally before this.” 

Derek’s phone rings from his desk, and the rest of the team filter off with him, all going back to their work. Dave shoots Emily a look from behind Agent Mitchell, an amused look sparking in his eyes, and she glares at him, telling him off with a twitch of her eye that only those who knew her would see.

“Well,” she says, turning her attention back to Agent Mitchell, “Now we won’t have a chance to,” she says reaching out for Lucas and smiling when he grasps her finger, “When I do come back to work it will be for Interpol, not the FBI.” 

“That’s a shame, I’ve never had the pleasure of working with someone quite so…” he trails off, seemingly suddenly aware he was standing right in front of her husband, and his boss, “Talented.” He says, looking her up and down again in a way she has to stop herself from reacting to. She’d spent the last several weeks thinking Aaron was overreacting when he spoke about him, joking that he was never exactly a fan of new additions to his team - her included - but now she thinks he may have actually undersold how irritating her replacement actually was, “I’ve heard a lot about you, that’s all.” 

She can practically feel irritation flowing off her husband in waves, surrounding him and the rest of them like an overpowering cologne, but before she can say something to deescalate the situation, Lucas cries out for her from Aaron’s arms, and she hums sympathetically as she reaches out for him.

“Someone needs feeding,” she says, turning to look at Aaron. His jaw is set so tightly she’s surprised it doesn’t shatter, his eyes narrowed as he glares at Agent Mitchell, so she grasps his hand, holds it in a way she never would have when she worked here, and she tilts her head towards his office when he looks at her, “Want to come with us?” 

He nods, glaring at the man in front of them, “Mictchell, I expect that paperwork by the end of the day.” 

Agent Mitchell clears his throat and nods, somehow finding the decency to look sheepish as he walks back to his desk. “Yes, Sir.” 

Aaron makes a point of closing the door to his office a little harder than necessary, and then he glares at Agent Mitchell before he closes the blinds, “He’s an Idiot.” 

Emily chuckles as she sits on the couch, Lucas gathered against her chest as she adjusts her clothes to start to feed him, “He’s bold, I’ll give him that,” she scrunches her nose up, “The worst thing is, I think that would have worked on a 20-something me.” 

Aaron turns to look at her, a look of horror that she can’t help but find funny flashing across his face, “What?”

She laughs again and pats the couch next to her, “Give me a break, my frontal lobe hadn’t developed enough to let me know that I love the broody, tall and handsome type,” she says, placing her hand on his knee when he joins them. He’s still grumpy, his jaw and his shoulders tight, and she sighs, “Honey, are you jealous?” 

“A man was just openly flirting with my wife,” he gripes, “Of course I’m jealous.” 

She checks on Lucas and smiles when she sees he’s happily eating away, his hand resting on her breast just short of the brand mark left behind by Ian. At first, she’d hated seeing the two things together, a talisman from her past right next to her son, a memory from the day she died that she’d rather forget. Now, she liked it. Loved she had survived so many things to make it here - to the family she thinks might have been waiting for her all along.

“Your youngest son tunnelled out of me eight weeks ago,” she quips, raising her eyebrow at him when their eyes meet, “You have nothing to be jealous of.” 

He sighs and places his head in his hands, “I just…I sometimes wonder what you see in me.”

She grabs his hand and squeezes it, make him look at her, and the smile slips from her face so he knows that she’s serious, “Everything. I see everything in you, Aaron. And I see no one else.” 

He closes his eyes and leans in, resting his forehead against hers, “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” She hums and kisses him quickly before she pulls back, looking down at Lucas as he unlatches, “Want to burp him whilst I put my boob away?” She says, handing the baby over to his waiting hands, “Wouldn’t want to give Mitchell a show if he dared to walk in right now.”

Aaron playfully glares at her and pats Lucas’s back, “He’ll be drowning in so much paperwork in the coming weeks he’ll barely have a chance to leave his desk.” 

She laughs, grateful that whatever self doubt he’d briefly felt is gone, and she basks in his company, pleased that she’d come here to see him and hadn’t waited until he came home. She buttons up her shirt and grimaces when she thinks of that morning, the embarrassment she’d felt when the mailman had looked at her with wide eyes, their mutual embarrassment hanging between them on the porch. 

“By the way I spoke to the mailman in my baby voice by accident,” she says, focusing on her shirt, and not the way his shoulders tighten, how his hand briefly stops patting Lucas on the back, another flash of jealousy that makes him feel more ridiculous than the last burning through him that she thankfully misses. She sighs as she looks back up at him, her cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment. “So I can never make eye contact with him again, so it’s your job to take all our packages in from now on.”

Lucas burps and they both chuckle, and Aaron drops a kiss to the top of his head.

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.” 

[honeysorwell]

all of it (all of you)

Pairing: Melissa Schemmenti x hairdresser!fem Reader

Synopsis of the story + Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10

Link on AO3

Chapter 4

Tag list: @janeyseymour @italianaidiota @chloeelou02x (and if you want to be tagged too just let me know.)

Warning: no, in my clean era once again.

Sorry for the delay. And it was supposed to be posted next Saturday but I have a party to go to with my friends and you guys waited for too long... So here it is and once again, thank you all very much for embracing my work with such affection.

Enjoy!

To say that Melissa's first appointment with Y/N ​​after that apology started off really uncomfortable is an understatement.

Even before the teacher had arrived at the salon, the hairdresser was anxiously anticipating the redhead's presence.

Melissa.

The name alone echoed in her mind, awakening the memory of the last times they had seen each other — from the first day with the harsh words to the day of the apology that, although apparently sincere, still left a trace of discomfort in the air.

But the dessert that was used as a bonus to the apology was more than delicious.

Y/N herself could not deny this fact when she ate a frighteningly large amount of it, but her coworkers were the biggest and most determined witnesses of what everyone called the best tiramisu in all of Philly after sharing the remaining half of the dish. But even with all that sweetness still stuck in her memory, the hairdresser could not help but wonder if Melissa would be unpleasant to her again.

Who could know if the redheaded woman's week had been good enough to keep that animosity in her words from happening again? How could Y/N just guess if her work at the school, whatever it was, had been less stressful?

Still caught up in her thoughts, the hairdresser arranged, even if unconsciously, her brushes and scissors on the counter next to the empty tray, trying to keep her hands busy as time passed. Fortunately, the Brazilian woman's mind was distracted enough to completely ignore the memory that the act instigated.

And the second-grade teacher was feeling just like her.

Parked in front of the beauty salon, Melissa could barely concentrate on the CD she had put on to play as she took some time to breathe before finally entering the salon. The chords of Deep Purple's guitars simply didn't seem as calming as they usually did to the redhead and she knew that the reason for that wasn't the CD playing in her car, but her own thoughts.

What if the hairdresser held some... remorse?

The redhead had to admit, that thought wasn't absurd at all. She knows that she's stubborn and she would certainly have a part of her heart corroded by resentment against the unknown hairdresser if she were in her place.

But uncomfortable or not, Melissa decided, when she finally got out of her car and locked it, that she would do it anyway.

When the salon door opened, and the teacher entered hesitantly, her eyes met Y/N's for a brief moment before they looked away. And there, she seemed much smaller than the hairdresser remembered, as if the weight of guilt had shrunk her, and in response to that, the Brazilian woman just took a deep breath and approached the redhead — even before Melissa spoke to the receptionist — with a professional smile.

"Melissa, welcome. You can follow me, please." were her words before indicating with a gentle gesture the chair that, once again, was as far away as possible from the other people in the salon.

Still silent, the two women walked over, and Melissa hated it.

Dejavu, for sure.

The second and third-grade teacher would rarely be found in situations like this, where her mind feels almost frightened by the possibility of Y/N holding a grudge against the words she once said with such certainty, even without thinking. The thought of that resentment alone makes her uncomfortable, even as she carefully sits down in the comfortable chair indicated by Y/N.

The problem is that the stiffness in her shoulders did not go unnoticed by the Brazilian woman and, as she would do for any client, Y/N gently adjusted the height of the chair for the shorter woman and focused her eyes on the redhead's reflection in the mirror as she thought about what to do.

Just be professional.

“I’ll start by washing your hair.”, Y/N asked, keeping her tone calm and professional, without looking away from the teacher’s gaze in the reflection in front of her, “And the mixture of your hair dye will be prepared in front of you again, like last time, as soon as we get back here. Is that okay?”

“Of course.”, Melissa replied, almost in a whisper before continuing, “But I’d like a haircut today also. Just a few inches, ya know?”

“You know you don’t have to do that, right?”, the hairdresser made sure to emphasize after a few seconds of contemplative silence and a little shocked by Melissa’s suggestion, looking directly into her green eyes through the reflection in the mirror.

“Yes, I know, but it wouldn’t hurt to cut just a little…”, the redhead’s words sound a little awkward as she remembers why Y/N hesitated, but when she shakes her head a little and her bangs fall in her face covering her right eye, this only encourages the woman to speak again as she brushes the hair away from her face, “And this part is falling in my eye and I don’t I like it... So...”

“Okay. We can do that.”, the hairdresser says softly as she also touches the redhead’s hair, but now to move it away from her back while placing a fluffy towel there.

It doesn’t take more than a few seconds after that for Y/N to lead the teacher to the hair-washing chair. When the hairdresser began to wet Melissa’s hair, with the warm water gently running down her head, the redhead felt how nicely the Brazilian woman’s fingers massaged her scalp.

The touch was so gentle and careful that it made it impossible for Melissa not to close her eyes for just a second and let herself be carried away by the sensation and the touch, momentarily forgetting the dense silence that took over the two women and letting herself be comfortable.

At least for a little while.

The silence between them was no longer hostile. But it was as if they were both handling something new, trying to find a balance, and that was still distressing Y/N more than anything.

“Is the temperature okay?”, she asked her, breaking the silence with a whispered voice.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s perfect, hun.” Melissa murmured back to her, opening her eyes for just a moment and focusing directly on the hairdresser’s before closing them again

Green eyes.

Very green.

Very green, and they looked so softly into the hairdresser’s eyes — even if upside down due to the position they were both in — that it made a small sigh escape her lips and a familiar heat take over her cheeks.

The truth is that Y/N had never particularly cared about the color of people’s eyes. At least not before meeting this client.

However, there is definitely something about Melissa’s eyes that makes them seem indescribably beautiful to Y/N. Maybe it’s the contrast of their color compared to her lashes, always dark from being covered in mascara. Or maybe it's that story the Brazilian woman's mother always told her when she was a child, saying that people's eyes show their emotions, intentions, and personality in a deeper and more meaningful way than any handful of words could, and it would be an understatement to say that Y/N doesn't want to find out what goes on inside Melissa's head.

Although she still doesn't understand why.

But she does understand that she was wrong some weeks ago. No green eyes wore like hers.

Not even close.

With the sound of blow dryers and cheerful conversations in the background, the silence between the two returned, but now that weight seemed a little lighter. Y/N applied the shampoo, working gently into Melissa's hair and noticed that the redhead was breathing more slowly, as if she was allowing herself to relax. For a moment, Y/N wondered if she should say something again, but decided that the suddenly comfortable silence was enough for now.

When the teacher's hair washing was finished, and Melissa had returned to the chair in front of the mirror, Y/N began to untangle her red hair to finally discuss how she should cut it.

Y/N doesn’t have many clients who are natural redheads, much less in Melissa’s age, and that, coupled with the fact that the teacher hadn’t dared to say a single bold word to her since she arrived at the salon, gives her the courage to really appreciate every detail of her hair complexity more comfortably.

The pigment in red hair, thanks to the lack of melanin, always turns blonde rather than grayish when it gets older, and Y/N has always found this particularly exuberant. Eccentric in its own way, the blonde inch of Melissa’s hair roots contradicted the orange-red of her eyebrows, even though some parts of her head were already turning truly white, and Y/N felt particularly honored to be the one to witness something significantly rare. But before it could get any weirder, Y/N let those appreciative thoughts that had suddenly begun to live in her mind take a nap and began asking Melissa questions, trying to create the perfect image of the cut the redhead wanted so she could finally get it.

And for Melissa, nothing was wrong. That is, until her vision of the hairdresser changed from being the reflection in the mirror to being herself, flesh and blood, right in front of her, parting and cutting her bangs as requested by the teacher.

God, she had forgotten how beautiful Y/N was.

Naturally beautiful.

No posing.

The way she frowned her eyebrows in concentration, her lips slightly pursed, her eyes that seemed to capture the light of the salon in a particularly enchanting way... But then Y/N leaned forward and her delicate fingers were holding the strands of her red hair with such precision, while the scissors made a soft cutting sound that made Melissa's heart race in a particularly discomfiting way.

The Brazilian woman was beautiful.

Terribly beautiful, and that was only made more evident by the proximity of the two of them at that moment.

And on top of everything else, Melissa noticed that Y/N also had also beautiful hands.

Very beautiful. With long fingers and well-groomed nails, with a layer of gel polish so dark blue that it resembled black, perfectly applied to each one. Melissa's mind starts to think that the choice of color must be due to how much Y/N's nails must stain due to her work with coloring her clients. But the redhead's imagination runs wild when she notices, when Y/N carefully holds the part of her bangs that is right in front of her eyes, that Y/N's nails are as long as her own.

Long enough to scratch and make beautiful marks on the skin of her back as well.

And at that moment, the teacher could feel her face heat up with the thought vibrating in her mind, dishonestly repeating herself until Y/N speaks to her.

"Melissa, don't worry. I'll do exactly as you want." joked the hairdresser, noticing the redness on the redhead's face and pointing out her nervousness, even if only slightly, before leaning in a little closer, leaving their faces now just a few inches apart as she makes the final adjustments to the redhead's wet cut.

And God help Melissa because Y/N sounds so genuine. Not having the slightest idea of the horrible things going through the teacher's mind

Maybe that's why she starts to look away from the mirror and keeps trying to stare at herself while Y/N starts coloring her hair next. Doing everything she can to distract herself, dividing her gaze between her own reflection and her plate — which is now empty and next to the mirror, with a small sheet of paper folded inside —, even though her eyes keep returning to Y/N.

The redhead's body only relaxes again when she is once again in the hair-washing chair, removing the dye from her hair with her eyes closed. But this feeling doesn't last long because, when Melissa returns to her usual chair and looks at her reflection, she can barely focus on her own reflection because mext to her own face, the mirror showed Y/N, who was smiling softly at the redhead's hair, oblivious and proud of the work she was done, and Melissa couldn't take her eyes off her.

Very. Very beautiful, in fact.

But the whole atmosphere changed when the salon door opened abruptly and a small child, completely miserable, walked in, holding the hand of a lady significantly older and even more tense than her.

The poor girl's face was wet with tears and her sobs echoed through the room even though it was possible to notice how much she was trying to force herself to stop crying. The one who Y/N would soon discover was the little girl's grandmother, who seemed significantly desperate, trying to calm her granddaughter down without success.

"Please, can someone help? My granddaughter fell on the path and got scared. I would just like somewhere private to clean her knee, please," were the lady's first words inside the crowded room, as she looked around for help.

Suddenly, before anyone even has a chance to help them, the child's eyes widen.

"Miss Schemmenti!" she shouted in the middle of the hair salon, before running away as fast as her little legs could carry her until finally stopping, right in front of Melissa and pointing to her own scraped knee while muttering, "Look."

"I can see that, little eagle. It must hurt, right? But we need to clean it up right now," Melissa suggested, with a tone so soft that Y/N almost didn't recognize her.

As the hairdresser watched the scene, an idea quickly came to her and then Y/N gently dried her hands and addressed the girl, who would soon discover that her name was Mia.

“Hey, little one, do you like princesses?” the hairdresser asked in a sweet and comforting voice as she approached the floor to speak to the little girl, looking directly into her eyes. “I have bandages of all the Disney princesses with me, and I’ll give you the prettiest one if you let your grandmother clean your knee.”

“But it's hurt.” the little girl tried to argue towards Y/N, even though her face was divided between looking at the hairdresser next to her, her teacher and her grandmother, who had now joined them.

It still took a little convincing, but in a significantly short time and with a small bottle of water and a wet wipe, Mia’s knee was clean, ready to receive a sticker with Princess Belle printed on it.

“There, and it only hurt a little, didn’t it?” Y/N finally asked, stroking the girl’s head softly and watching as she nodded affirmatively.

“That’s because she’s quite brave. Just like Belle, aren't you, little eagle?” Melissa added, with a sincere smile that was mirrored by both the child and her grandmother.

The older woman thanked Melissa and Y/N repeatedly, and the now calmer child hugged them both before taking her grandmother’s hand and walking towards the exit of the salon, leaving the teacher and her hairdresser standing there for a moment, just watching the door close behind them.

“So... Mrs. Schementti...” the Brazilian woman’s voice began again after a few seconds, with a greater hint of courage as she used a small spray bottle of water in order to make Melissa’s hair wetter so that it could be styled, since the childish distraction was enough to dry most of it, “A teacher then?”

“Yeah...” the redhead sighed before answering the question she had already anticipated as she watched Y/N stroke her hair carefully to make sure it was completely wet once again, “Second and third grades.”

Hearing the redhead’s words, the hairdresser was startled and in shock decided to completely drop the bottle next to her mirror, to focus solely on the reflection of Melissa’s face as she said her next words:

“Like two classrooms? At the same time? Together?” the Brazilian woman asks with wide eyes, full of surprise and admiration in her tone.

“Together, yes. 48 of those little eagles.”, Melissa says softly as she stares back at the hairdresser through the reflection in the mirror, even more proud than she usually is when it comes to her job at Abbott.

“And are you like... sane?”, Y/N asks with an incredulous smile as she stretches her body, now towards the dryer on her counter after leaving the water spray there.

“Yea. For now.”

“Lucky them for having someone as caring as you wen it comes to them.”, the Brazilian woman continues, now smiling and dividing her attention between parting Melissa’s hair and looking back at her face in the mirror, “Your children must be dying of jealousy of your students running into you on the street year after year.”

“No... I don’t... I don’t have any children.”, the teacher answers looking away from the mirror, trying to focus on anything other than Y/N’s face as she continues speaking, “But these little ones are so much more than I could ask for.”

And then the hairdresser’s mind simply switches off. Because obviously, she screwed up by assuming things that were definitely none of her business.

Just when everything was finally going well.

Good job, Y/N!

"Oh... I'm sorry, I...", Y/N begins, trying so honestly to remedy her words with a tone full of immense sadness and despair, but she is soon interrupted by Melissa.

"No problem. I'm infertile, but so is a third of this country, so it's all good.", the words fly through the teacher's lips so fast that she only realizes what she said after the words are already in the air.

And then silence.

Just silence.

And more silence.

"Oh, I... I really...", even without knowing exactly what to say, an I'm sorry starts to be directed at Melissa, but the redhead makes a point of rejecting it as quickly as possible, terrified by whatever is going through the Brazilian woman's mind.

“Nah... At my age, I’ve already accepted that being a mother isn’t for me, and my little eagles are more than I can ask for... and sometimes even more than I can handle.”

“I’m sure that little girl disagrees!” is how Y/N responds, happy that the conversation has returned to a less personal subject as she takes a slightly deep breath, “Believe me, she was happier with your kiss on her forehead than with the bandage. And my bandages are beautiful.”

“Why do you have these, anyway? Do you have children?”

When the question escapes Melissa’s excited mouth, Y/N smiles softly as she opens a partially hidden drawer in her station, filled with candies, lollipops, fun bandages, and glitter stickers.

“Oh no! I don't... In fact, I don’t think I’m made for this, you know?”, she begins softly before focusing her eyes on the redhead, “Children are just my most loyal customers. So it’s only smart to be prepared for anything.”

For a second Melissa wants to ask God if this smiling woman, who is now offering her a pink lollipop — which she says is the best one —, wasn’t a teacher in a past life. But before she can do that, Y/N returns to her place behind Melissa with the hairdryer on and continues, despite the noise.

“I think they like me because I genuinely laugh at all their nock nock jokes since they’re all new to me.”

“Aren’t there nock nock jokes in...?”, the teacher begins uncertainly, now wrapped up in nothing but curiosity, trying to remember if Andréa had told her about the hairdresser’s nationality.

“Brazil?”, Y/N concludes, watching as Melissa nods her head in the mirror before continuing, “Yes, there are, but they’re all different. Sometimes the whole punchline and sometimes the whole thing...”

“I see.”, the redhead finally says and smiles, playing with the loose wrapper of the lollipop between her fingers as she puts the sugary treat in her mouth for just a moment before taking it out and continuing, “So they’re genuinely funny to you?”

“Sometimes... Or just surprising.”

And then, as if by magic, everything is fine.

Really fine.

The two chat comfortably until the end of the meeting and Melissa returns home with a smile on her face, her bowl that used to contain her tiramisu — now with a paper with her name written strictly by hand and a simple thank you inside — and with her hair beautifully done.

And in the following weeks, when the teacher receives a compliment from friends or strangers, it is more than welcome. What is not welcome is the fact that, the third time Melissa returns for a touch-up with Y/N ​​after they have made up and started to feel more comfortable with each other, the teacher is late.

Like really late.

But Barb had called so distressed. And of course she was! The results of Gerald's last batch of tests were ready but the terrifying idea that her husband of 30 years might be sick paralyzed her to the point that neither she nor her husband could open the hospital email.

The couple's daughters were still unaware of the imminent possibility of chaos in their dads health, so their presence was out of the question.

And who was Melissa to deny her friends like that?

The traffic was horrible, and when she arrived at the Howerds' house, Barb's eyes were already full of tears and Gerald was also so shaken that Melissa had to spend some time comforting them until they calmed down and opened that piece of information that would reassure them like nothing else ever had.

And far from that, amid the tranquility of the beauty salon that day, with the soft sound of instrumental music and some conversations in the background, Y/N had her face tilted toward the entrance of Riverfront Roots looking for red hair again and again, before glancing at the clock on the wall and sighing.

25 minutes past the scheduled time.

30 minutes past the scheduled time.

35 minutes past the scheduled time.

Even without meaning to, the Brazilian woman frowns, worried.

When Andrea asked her to accept Melissa as a client, she was very clear. Melissa is never late.

Something wasn't right.

Y/N walks to the window, peering out at the busy street just to see nothing. She thinks about asking the receptionist to call the teacher, but hesitates, fearing she is being too intrusive. And it's this fear that makes her wait a little longer, even as she grows restless.

Finally, after 40 minutes of delay, the salon door opens with a bang and Melissa walks in, out of breath, with her hair disheveled and her bag hanging precariously over her shoulder. Her face is flushed, and she looks quite flustered.

"Y/N, I... I'm so sorry.", are the first words she says as soon as she meets the hairdresser's eyes, startling her with how easily they slip from her lips now compared to the first time she said those, "I know I'm really late, and you must be furious with me. I understand if ya don't want to be mt hairdresser anymore. I... I really value your work, and I... I knew I was going to be late, but I just... I couldn't leave them there alone.", she began to explain herself, before realizing that without context her words hardly meant anything understandable, "My friend of almost 30 years and her husband. They... His exams... But he's fine now... And in the middle of all this, I was thinking about you, waiting for me, and I... I feel so bad. I didn't want you to think that I don't appreciate your time or your work, which I apparently am a master at doing so... And now, now I don't even know why I'm telling you this. I'm just so sorry."

And the Brazilian woman just stands still, looking at Melissa, completely shocked, recovering from so much information that was thrown at her in such a short time by the redhead.

Even though her appearance was never exactly calm or serene, her actions and words were restrained and, to a certain extent, calculated. And while the silence swallows them gently, Y/N is even more certain that it was not calculated when she watches Melissa begin to squirm, finally giving in to the discomfort.

So, the Brazilian woman takes a deep breath and steps forward, placing a gentle hand on the teacher's shoulder.

"Melissa, it's okay. Breathe. I'm not mad at you. It happens. You're here now, and that's what matters. Let's sit down and I will give you a glass of water," is what she says with a smile, before nodding to the chair that Melissa now recognizes as hers before continuing, "I'll take care of you and we'll sort out the rest later."

And so it was resolved when Y/N wrote her personal number on a small piece of paper.

“So... in the next appointments, if something happens, you just need to send me a text. You don’t even need to call the salon.”, was how she explained it, with a smile so sweet that Melissa felt morally obligated to respond the same way.

Even at night, after the redhead had already added Y/N to her cell phone contacts and the younger woman had confirmed that it was really her number with a subtle message and a smiling emoji, Melissa didn’t throw the piece of paper away, but just kept it in her wallet instead.

Right next to the one she received when she got her tiramisu plate back — and which, coincidentally, had the same harmonious handwriting.

The reason? Melissa tells herself that it's only in case she loses the Brazilian woman's contact on her cell phone — because it's not smart to rely exclusively on technology — and she keeps saying these words in her mind until they become truth to herself.

Even tho she is having a hard time doing that.