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astro-rainbow777 · 7 months

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🍒⛽️Red Astrology Observations☎️👠

Mars in Astrology

💋 Passion in Astrology can be found in the Mars sign and house placement:

- Aries Mars are more passionate In nature, whatever they want, they go after, fiercely and bravely. The type to love sports, fights and competition of any kind. They thrive in a competitive environment and relationships. It possible their passion is tied to their childhood in some way (same for Mars in 1st)- so if this involves child hood toys they used to collect, eating their favorite foods growing up or playing games that they used to when times were simpler.

- Mars in 1st house can make the native very passionate about their looks, being perceived as dominate/hot/sexy, working out and having physical strength. I’ve noticed that they may like competition but generally they don’t try that hard to compete with others if they are in good health. If these natives are confident in themselves- they try so hard to boost the confidence of everyone around them.

- Taurus Mars can be passionate about their possessions, having their material needs met, connecting to their 5 senses and financial gain. “Anyone can cook” 👨🏻‍🍳 🤌🏻mentality. Passionate about rest! This may sound silly- but it’s actually quite hard to master, especially in hustle culture. As someone with no earth placements in their chart, it’s extremely hard for me to rest, slow down and enjoy my food. Be present, Taurus mars understands and values this. Not the type to gamble their money away. Needs things to make sense materially.

- Mars in 2nd house makes the individual very passionate and their financial security and safety, having their basic needs met, having an abundance of possessions. They can thrive in jobs that are considered a “competitive pay” corporation. They may love shopping, spending and saving money. They value passion and material wealth, so depending on what sign the Mars placement is in can add more context of what it surrounds. Bulk spenders, Costco/Sams Club membership holders lmao.

- Mars in Gemini is very multi faceted in what they are passionate about. They have little niches and hobbies that they love, anything that challenges them mentally while also being hands on! My mom has this and she’s really into gardening and cooking with the food she’s grown. She can get very restless about it but I think that it’s so cute how whatever she is passionate about consumes her mentally.

- Mars in 3rd is passionate about mental pursuits, they could have been picked on as a kid, which made them highly ambitious in their studies. Extremely competitive in the realm of knowledge. Their peers and siblings may see them as a threat or just see them as generally argumentative. Although I think these people just enjoy a good debate and exercising their intellectual capabilities. They could have an abundance of hobbies they indulge in and our passionate about. They may bound with their friends through their hobbies and passions. Could really enjoy competitive video games such as Smash Bros.

- Mars in Cancer natives are passionate about their family and proving themselves to their family. They could have been compared to their family members a lot growing up, or just felt an instability at home. They are passionate about cultivating a home for themselves and starting a family of their own one day. This does not have to be pertinent to kids- chosen family- fur babies 🐾 or significant other also ring true for this sign. - Mars in 4th are passionate about their loved ones, they are highly protective of themselves and others. These people are quite competitive but in a passive aggressive way. They are usually at war with their own emotions, family and security. I’ve noticed many of these individuals have had violence in childhood home or trauma surrounding family ):

- Mars in Leo they are passionate about their creativity, children and having fun! Would love to have this Mars placement honestly, because these people march to the beat of their own drum. It’s very admirable! They are passionate about their own authenticity, you will never catch them trying to steal someone else’s Swag lmao. I think they invented swag quite honestly 😂

- Mars in 5th are total party animals! They are passionate about life and all that the world has to offer. The world is their Oyster! Every sidewalk is their runway and every song they hear is the backtrack for the movie they star in! Their life is all about being confident in their own skin and romanticizing their selves, relationships and passion projects.

- Mars in Virgo are passionate about helping others and being the best version of themselves. This Mars sign is notoriously known for being able to try something once and being exceptionally good at it the first go. I hate to say it (only because I know it comes from a place of pain) but these natives are passionate about perfection. This can cause them a lot of anxiety if they are careful. Although, they are good at many things, it is advised that they lean into whatever makes them happy, serve their part in making the world a better place!

- Mars in 6th are passionate about their purpose, their health and their pets. They can spend a lot of time researching how to become better versions of themselves. They will have a very active routine and live passionately day to day. The type to wake up at sunrise, take their vitamins tend to their pets needs, cook a whole food breakfast, workout, meditate, journal, than go to work, tend to their pets needs, do their night time self care, hygiene, journal, meditate, pre sleep stretch, sleep exactly 8 hours, repeat. Function well with planners.

- Mars in Libra are passionate about harmony and balance. When I tell you their whole plan of action is strictly devoted to how not to get into conflict… it’s to the tea. They are super passionate about the relationships in their life, and are very generous in nature. They love art, certain aesthetics, good food and beautiful things. They may be called lazy from time to time because they don’t quite function the way other people do. They may make plans for 50 different things one day because they have a difficult time saying no- then end up going to none of them because they didn’t finish getting ready until everything event was finished. These people invented fashionably late.

- Mars in 7th is passionate about their partnerships. These natives are actually quite confrontational in comparison to Libra Mars. This is because they want to squash the beef before it’s even a problem. There may be a tendency to people please- but most of the time these people are just socially extroverted, kind and considerate.

- Mars in Scorpio is another sign that is just passionate in nature. It is so intense for them that it is hard for them to do anything if they not completely engulfed in passion. They psychoanalyze everyone they meet, at natural detectives and are friends with the unknown. They aren’t scared of the dark and often find so much beauty in what others cannot comprehend

- Mars in 8th are passionate about the unknown as well, it is very enticing to them. Anything involving mystery is naturally alluring to them. They love to get lost in rabbit holes of whatever they are interested in. Whatever it is they are the master of- and you question them about it, they’ve already thought of answer. Because they know their hobbies are often taboo, scary, and misunderstood- they have studied every answer to every question that someone had for them. Their passions are all encompassing. They are so much more than deep. Everything they do is intentional.

- Mars in Sagittarius are adventurous, hilarious and curious. I feel like Sagittarius more than Gemini Mars has that “Curiosity killed that cat” vibe. For Gemini mars it’s more like googling disturbing thing’s because they are curious than regretting it. For Sag tho, it’s doing things because YOLO and why tf not? Than breaking their leg or something. Although doesn’t happen often because we know how lucky Sag placements are lmao. But it’s like they jumped off a cliff, didn’t die but they broke their leg. Haha- this was a tangent

- Mars in 9th is going places! Literally they can’t sit still. Most likely passionate about travel, philosophy, and adventure. One of the most fun placements to have. Extreme sports is common here, skydiving, bungee jumping etc. They live to experience all that there is to experience. Very ambitious and passionate about education and teaching as well. They probably have things that they LlVE by

- Mars in Capricorn are passionate about success, achieving their goals which usually require them to work really hard. Where ever the mars is located in the houses can tell you a little bit more about what their goals are. They are passionate about being in control of their own lives, not takin shid from anyone lol

- Mars in 10th are passionate about being successful, being their own boss, their reputation and getting external recognition. They will put a lot of energy into their career and be very passionate about whatever they are doing. They will be a trail blazer and their career because they do it the right way the first time. Extremely hard workers- just be weary of burn out Mars in 10th folks!

- Mars in Aquarius is passionate about humanitarian pursuits, their community and friendships. They move about the world in the most unpredictable and unexpected way. They can be seen as a black sheep of their peers and then BAM they’re the ones turning heads, setting trends and on top. You will never know their next move and honestly neither do they! They get sudden bursts or urges of motivation and ideas- so never underestimate these individuals!

- Mars in 11th are passionate about their dreams, humanity and social causes. They will spend a lot of time surrounded by their friends and in their community. Although, their best friends will be fighting alongside them. They are passionate about the injustices of the world, stick up for the underdog and let their freak flag fly!

- Mars in Pisces are passionate about compassion, sacrifice, and unconditional love. Many of the times Pisces mars has their head in the clouds and put their energy into reading or writing their own book, painting the world they envisioned in their dream the night before, or staring at a the ocean, only to find God. This is if they are in a healthy nature, but many times they could escape through dr*gs, alc*h*l, s*x, or toxic relationships. This placement can get a bad rap for their changeability and confusion energy but they love harder than no other and would do anything for you if committed.

- Mars in 12th is passionate about their dreams, spiritually, many of them are religious or spiritual in nature. I haven’t met many who aren’t. They are natural introverts who need to spend as much time alone as they can to recharge. They may feel outcasted from society. A lot of people talk behind their back because of this which makes them withdraw even deeper. These natives benefit from living a spiritual, service oriented lifestyle, developing boundaries and surround themselves by people who genuinely want the best for them. It is hard but it is doable. Stay strong Mars in 12th!

🤬💢Pet Peeves🚨🚩

🚗Aries Mars- Going too slow in front of them-especially with no way around (applies to driving as well), lazy people, people who can’t keep up 💢Taurus Mars- Smacking, chewing inappropriately, weird textures….like chalk? Unpleasant senses, smells, being rushed, itchy clothes, under/over cooked food

☎️Gemini Mars- over stimulation, close minded attitude, when their friends don’t like each other, one word responses, boring people, when the Wi-Fi connection is slow

💔Cancer Mars- Inconsiderate of other people’s feelings (doesn’t have to be their own, most time it’s not), manipulation, people with anger issues, or people who take out their problems on others

🪭Leo Mars- When people try to compete with them when they are merely existing, copy cats, buzz kills, unwanted attention, seeing people in public that they don’t want to see

🤡 Virgo Mars- Know it alls, people who act like they know everything but don’t, ignorance, STAINS, people who are really loud….people lmaooo

💋Libra Mars- hypocrisy, stubbornness, arguments (especially in public), hypercritical people, slut and bullies

🧲Scorpio Mars- Lack of depth, lying for the sake of lying, slut shaming, shallow people, assuming, saying “I love you” like it’s casual, saying their friends when they know nothing about them, rumors

🚁Sagittarius Mars- People who lack independence, being late to things (not really others…they hate being late), people who try to control them, excess responsibility, and inflexibility

🩸Capricorn Mars- Doing things half-a$$ed, moochers, lack of ambition, unreliable, carelessness, immaturity, unpredictable behavior

🍄Aquarius Mars- Conformist, cry babies, stupidity, agreeing with them when they are playing devils advocate lol, when they like an unpopular artist and than it becomes trendy, attention seekers

🌹Pisces Mars- Telling them they are being unrealistic or their dreams are too big, being called sensitive or told they care too much, lmao reality…being alive hahaha- being judged for their spirituality/religion

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thewritetofreespeech · 28 days

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Can I request headcanons for what Gale, Wyll, Astarion, and Halsin would do to stop their gn crush from leaving yet please?

*my heart doesn't have it in me to do a 'leaving' in the sense of a breakup, so these will just be headcanons on the reader just trying to leave for errands or honestly the other room with these clingy boys*

Gale will literally just keep talking to them. Very much the “oh wait! Before you go…” and then tell them just one more interesting fact that will start another conversation or have them help him find something in his cluttered tower. Hopefully they just forget they have to leave and spend the rest of the afternoon with him.

Wyll would just offer to go with them. The more the merrier right? More hands make less work? He appreciates that people need their own space and alone time, but it’s a harder principle in practice than he remembers. If rebuked he will sulk a little but be eagerly waiting for their return. Ready to hear all about their day.

Astarion would just gaslight them into staying. What, you don’t want to spend time with him? He’s not important enough to fill your time? Do you not enjoy his company anymore? He knows it’s a dirty trick, and not true, but whatever gets them to stay. Out of everyone, Astarion is subtly the clingiest. He knows what it’s like to be truly, completely alone and doesn’t want to have that, even for a moment, ever again.

Halsin would subconsciously just use his own bulk to keep them from leaving. It is really unintentional, but he would position his body in a way that would keep his partner from leaving. When asked if he could move, Halsin would of course apologize, as he had not realized, and let them pass. He appreciates that, like nature, we all must follow our own path from time to time, but he doesn’t remember being such an obstacle to that before.

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luveline · 3 months

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Hii, I absolutely love your Hotch fics in which he meets his adult daughter. Could we get one in which she is feeling down about something and he helps/reassures her?💕💕

It’s difficult to foster a relationship with someone when you don’t get to see them. Even harder when the relationship is with your father who didn’t know you existed for over two decades, and who works as a Special Agent in the FBI, spending half of his life in other states.

Lately it feels impossible.

He’s just never home. When he is, he can't make it to dinner. You start to feel exactly as you had before you knew him, alone again, working hard to keep up in class, drained from your part time job, and always tired.

You should stay home and sleep, but tonight, your dad is free for dinner.

You wait on the corner of the street in the golden light of the restaurant. It’s chilly out, and the sky is slowly darkening. You watch the road for the shape and bulk of Aaron’s SUV, relieved to see him on the way past. He parks in the parking lot, making a small stop into the trunk of the car before he makes his way toward you.

He’s carrying a little white teddy bear wrapped in pink heart cellophane.

You know it’s for you, but it’s still sweet enough to surprise you when he smiles at you and encourages it into your hands. “Hello,” he says, wrapping one arm around you quickly as he kisses your cheek.

It’s always a shock, but never unwelcome.

“Hi, Aaron.”

“Let’s go in, yes?” he asks. “It’s too cold to stay out here. Were you waiting a long time?”

You let him walk you to the entrance, where he gives his name to the hostess for the reservation, and together you follow her to a small table near a bay window. The trees outside are strung with tea lights. The restaurant smells like nutty chocolate ganache. You mentioned that you liked the desserts here the first time he brought you, and he’s continued to bring you here ever since.

You are undoubtedly getting to know one another. You’ve met Haley three times, and Jack five. You had dinner together only two weeks ago where he tried to show you how to keep spaghetti on your fork while failing to manage it himself. He was sweet, and Aaron was really good with him.

You’d been jealous.

“What’s the bear for?” you ask.

“I’m trying to buy your forgiveness. Is it working?”

You laugh without thinking. “My forgiveness?”

“Sometimes, when I don’t see Jack for a long time, he gets frosty with me. I know it’s poor parenting but I’ll bring home a souvenir in the hopes he won’t stay mad.”

“This is a souvenir?” you ask.

He sits with good posture, but his face is ducked apologetically. It’s a kind sort of look, like he really is sorry. “I think I owe you more than that.”

This regret he’s expressed before. You truly believe that he wishes he could go back in time and be there for you, which might be why it aches to think about it in detail. He wanted to be the loving, doting father. He just didn’t get the chance.

“It sort of… breaks my heart sometimes, when I see you,” you say.

It’s a lot. You haven’t even ordered your drinks.

“It does?” he asks gently.

“I wish…” You bite the inside of your cheek. Shake your head when you can’t finish.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I think about it a lot. I resent your mother.”

She’s your mother, but yes. “I do, too.”

You listen to the clatter of the kitchen somewhere deep in the building and the indistinguishable chatter of other families and dates where they sit around you. Your hand closes tightly on a napkin.

“Are you okay? You look tired, honey.”

“Must be a Hotchner thing,” you say.

He laughs like you haven’t just slighted him. “It definitely is. I’m getting the sense that you’re upset about more than your mother, though.”

“How would you know?” you ask genuinely.

It’s his party trick. You’re expecting a rundown: your hand moves a quarter inch to the left and shows your upset, or your nose twitches to betray your true feelings. But he doesn’t need to use his special set of agent skills on you tonight.

“You won’t look at me for very long. It’s exactly like your brother.”

You sniff ineffectually. “It is?”

He looks especially solemn, then. “I wish we didn’t miss out on so much with each other, but I’m here now, if you want me. You can tell me what’s bothering you. I promise I’ll listen.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve always heard worse.” He manages a smile. “Not that what you’re feeling isn’t important.”

“Well, I… it’s mostly the little things. You know school is hard.”

“At GWU? It’s gruelling.”

“It’s awful. I probably need a tutor.” You laugh. “Maybe. It’s not so bad, and once this year is over, I’m done, but I have my internship lined up for the summer, so I’m trying very hard to– to work as much as I can now. But working and studying all the time makes me tired.” Your cheeks heat at having spilled it all without finesse. “Sorry, I know you work twenty three hours a day.”

“How many hours are you working a week?” he asks.

“Uh, usually twenty-four. I try to do three shifts a week. Sometimes they want me after school, so it’s more like twenty-nine or thirty-four.” Or forty-four.

“And you’re studying–”

“Every spare minute.”

He nods thoughtfully. “I’m sorry. It sounds hard…”

“What?” you ask.

“I’m just thinking about something.” He licks his lips. “And you’ve always worked? Since high school?”

Your flush worsens. “Yeah. I have to pay for school somehow, and to eat.” You quieten.

“What if you didn’t have to work, honey?”

You shake your head vehemently. “Aaron.”

“I’m serious. What if you didn’t have to do so much? You need time to do nothing. Overworking yourself will give you an ulcer, trust me, and that’s the last thing I want. I could–”

“I can’t take your money–”

“It’s not just my money. Does Jack ‘take’ my money?”

“You signed up for Jack–”

“And I’m signed up for you. I want to be here for you, and this is what father’s do, okay? If they can, and I can.”

“Unnecessary brag.”

He ignores your joke. “Even if I could just pay for GWU. I know those textbooks are burning a hole in your pocket.”

You refuse. Aaron promises to return to the subject when you aren’t exhausted, and maybe you’ll let him. It would be beautiful to wake up on a Saturday with nothing to do.

It would be nice not to miss your dad. You’ve done it your whole life, but now he’s real, and he seems to really care about you. When he hugs you after he’s paid for dinner, you want to be allowed to cling, and, as he tightens his hold, you realise you are.

“It’s so good to see you,” he says, rubbing your upper arm.

“Yeah,” you mumble.

“Can I see you tomorrow?”

You ease back. “Really?” Because you hadn’t mentioned that you missed him, but he already knows.

He pats your arm. “You know I’d see you every day, if I could? I’ve missed out on enough already. We’ll take Jack to Olive Garden again and you can think a bit more on what I proposed.”

“I can’t take your money,” you repeat quietly.

“Not that, though you should. You can tell me anything, okay?”

You breathe out as he steps away. “Okay.”

He touches your cheek briefly. “Okay. I’m proud of you. You’re doing great.”

“Thanks, Aaron.”

“You’re welcome. Text me when you get home safe, all right?”

You look at him for too long. “Thank you,” you say again, moving in for another hug.

He props his head atop yours carefully. “You’re welcome, honey.”

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble #criminal minds

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ln4smiamitrophy · 3 months

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𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 —— part 1.

𐙚 summary; the one where logan sargeant’s sister returns to the public eye after a horrible break up, she meets a guy.

ʚɞ pairing; lando norris x sargeant!singer!reader

ᡣ𐭩 fc; madison beer

⭒ type; smau x irl

⟡ a/n; my very first series (aaahhh!!!) , this story is based off of my american singer dr. not sure how i feel about this but it’s been awhile since i’ve actually written properly so let’s pray i improve

enjoy lovelies xx

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The next day…

The sun shone through the thin curtains of your Melbourne hotel room, a steak of light shining directly onto your face. A soft groan falls from your lips as your sleep is disrupted by the ball of fire in the sky that seemed to be insistent on waking you up. The realisation that you’ve slept in hits you like a freight train, scrambling out of bed, almost tripping over your feet as you just manage to reach the bathroom.

You’re frantically scouring your hotel room, looking for your other shoe when the door knocks. Relief washes over you as you find the shoe after endless minutes looking. Hopping over to the door, pulling your shoes on, you open it to your older brother, Logan Sargeant. He finds himself amused at the sight of you hopping back into your room to sit down and put the shoe on properly but he shrugs it off, making his way inside.

“You woke up late again?” He questions you, no longer surprised at your antics as a soft chuckle passes his lips. Before he’s aware of it, a pillow is being thrown at him, falling to the floor by his feet.

“For a formula one driver, you really should have better reflex’s Lo,” You tease as your brother as you place your foot back down on the floor, reaching for your bag as you stand up. “Ladies first.” Logan rolls his eyes at you but goes first anyway, making his way into the hotel hallway.

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As the car pulled up at the track, a sense of fear washed over you. What if people don’t want me back? What if it was better off without me? You’re pulled out of your own head by the feeling of a hand on your shoulder. It’s Logan.

“You’re gonna be fine,” A soft smile graces his lips and that’s all you need for reassurance as the car pulls to a stop. Climbing out, you take a deep breath as your feet hit the floor. There’s no more hiding now.

You manage to match the walking rhythm of your brother, your feet falling into the familiar action of one foot in front of the other. The screams from fans as you enter is almost deafening. You hadn’t heard anyone scream your name in so long and suddenly you’re hearing so many scream it all at once. It’s almost a comfort; they’re happy to see me.

You walk with your brother and take a few pictures with some of the excited faces in the crowd though you leave the bulk of fan duty with Logan and his fellow drivers. It’s their day after all.

Walking through the paddock you realise just how much you missed the days you used to spend at race tracks. You’d spent your whole life around race tracks, watching Logan and cheering him on as he worked his way up. There was no one more proud of him than you were when he got signed by Williams. Though due to your rapidly growing career, you were lucky to make it to a race at all, though you never missed one. Always watching him from wherever you were in the world, whatever the time. The familiar hustle and bustle of the paddock brought a warm smile to your face, that only growing when you spot a certain driver in papaya.

“Oscar Jack Piastri,” Your voice in sync with your steps as you walk up behind him. Oscar spins around rather fast at the sound of his name, a large smile plastering on his face at the sight of you. His arms wrap around you, pulling you into a warm hug. You hug him back before pulling away, and taking a small step back, a smile on your face.

You’d missed him. Growing up with Logan on race tracks meant growing up with Oscar as well. From the moment the two boys met they were inseparable, you very quickly catching on. The three of you became your own little trio, always causing mischief at every turn. Your little trio never ended, no matter how busy any of you were and no matter how long you went without speaking to each other, you always made your way back to each other.

This moment is the first time you’ve seen Oscar in 6 months. You’d spoken over the phone, briefly, but it had been awhile since you’d seen his face up close. As Oscar spoke, it was almost reassuring to notice most things really hadn’t changed at all.

You, Logan and Oscar. The three musketeers. Finally back together.

The joyful moment between you two is abruptly ended at the sound of Oscar’s name being shouted in your direction, a thick British accent filling your ears. Following the sound, your eyes land on a second papaya-clad man. You make him out to be Oscar’s teammate as he got closer. Lando Norris. He comes to a stop at Oscar’s side.

“We’re needed apparently,” the man says to Oscar, not registering the presence of either you nor your brother yet. You’d heard of Lando Norris before, of course you had. Oscar had spoke of him and you’d seen him whenever you watched the race on tv but you’d never seen him in person before.

“Hello to you too Lando,” Oscar says with a soft chuckle escaping his lips. Lando shakes his head, his eyes falling on Logan though still not noticing me.

“Fraternising with the enemy I see,” Lando’s voice is a very soft one, playful. You can’t help the way the corners of your lips turn upwards as he continues teasing your brother. A small giggle leaves your mouth as the teasing persists and that’s when Lando notices you’re there for the first time.

Lando’s eyes fall on you when he hears a giggle come from beside Logan. His eyebrows that are slightly furrowed with confusion relax as his eyes meet yours. The kindness, the warmth in them is unmistakable, just looking into them feels like a warm hug. His eyes scan over the rest of your face, taking in all your features. You’re beautiful. You’re…familiar but somehow he can’t seem to figure it out.

“Y/n Sargeant,” You introduce yourself to Lando, offering up a handshake. Then it clicks where he’s seen you before, besides the obvious. Of course he’s seen you on social media, on the news, he’s heard you on the radio, you’re kind of hard to miss, after all. No but where he recognises you from, with that specific smile on your face is a picture Oscar showed him last year, the picture held a still of you, Oscar and Logan laughing at something, none of you can remember what exactly, when you were 17. That’s what Lando remembers you from.

“Lando Norris,” He accepts the handshake, his maybe holding onto yours for just a moment too long. As he walked away with Oscar, he wondered when the next he’d see you would be.

All you’d said was your name but it didn’t matter. He was intrigued, he wanted to know more. Know you.

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y/nsargeant

liked by logansargeant, landonorris and others

tagged ; logansargeant, oscarpiastri, f1, williamsracing

y/nsargeant ; name a better way to spend a sunday, i’ll wait…

comments….

user1 she’s back and better than ever ladies and gents

⤷ y/nsargeant you got that right

⤷ user1 OMG HI!! WTH!!

user2 the three musketeers!!!!!!

user3 the bond she shares with logan and oscar is so beautiful

⤷ user4 fr!! i want that with someone

oscarpiastri impossible task

oscarpiastri missed having you around

⤷ y/nsargeant missed you too osc

⤷ logansargeant be grateful you got a break from her

⤷ y/nsargeant do you want me to cut your brakes and slash your tyres?

user5 she’s officially back people!!!

⤷ user6 we need to throw a party to celebrate!!!

⤷ user5 fr!! we rlly do

user7 seeing her at the paddock makes me so happy

⤷ user8 real!! more sargeant sibling content incoming

user9 uhhh lando in the likes!?

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part 2 coming soon !!

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glossysoap · 10 months

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Imagine cockwarmimg with ghost and he has to hold you still so you stop squirming 🤤

late night work ; ghost

warnings/tags: fem reader, cockwarming obvi, praise, minor degradation, purposeful lowercase.

notes: (….) = scene change. WARENAI my love!! im so so sorry for taking so long!!! thank you for your patience and for being so supportive throughout all of this. i’m working on all of your other amazing, scrumptious thoughts, i assure you. <333

word count: 1.5k

sitting in bed, waiting for him to finish his reports, being desperate for his attention :( coming up behind him as he sat in his office chair, leaning down and putting your hands on his shoulders, nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

the bright light of the computer illuminated both of your faces as he continued to tap away at his keyboard.

“mmm, hello darlin’.” he hummed, turning his head away from his computer to press a kiss to your cheek.

“si,” you would whine against his neck. “how much longer ‘til you’re done?” you would press tender kisses along his jaw and under his ear.

you could feel the low vibration of a chuckle erupt from his throat.

“why, bird? you needy?” he would tease, smirk evident in his smug voice.

you only whined once more as an answer, your hands moving from their resting place on his shoulders down to graze at his clothed chest. one hand resting over his heart, feeling the comforting thump-thump of his heart pumping blood to the rest of his body. you could also feel the organ race under your touch, proving how you affected him wholly and fully.

“can’t even fuckin’ talk, you’re so desperate.” he laughs.

“ugh, don’t be mean.” your words would be muffled against his neck as you pout.

he only chuckles at your whine.

“you’re not gonna go to bed anytime soon, are ya’?” he asks, swiveling his chair to look at you fully. you were already ready for bed, wearing a pair of short shorts and his oversized sweater. ‘lieutenant, simon riley’ was sewn onto the breast pocket in thick black lettering. the sweater smelled like him, a mix of leather and earthy woods. with a faint hint of gunpowder.

so familiar. so comforting.

you also wore a pout on your lips as you stood next to him, your hands resting on his shoulders.

“i would.. if you stopped working.” you mumbled under your breath.

“well, we both know i can’t do that. so why don’t we compromise, hm?”

(….)

only mere minutes later you were sat on his lap, your panties were yanked down your legs as whimpers fell from your lips. your arms were wrapped around him, clinging desperately to his bulk and muscle in an attempt to ground yourself in reality. he had turned back to his work, facing his computer again — but with you sitting on his cock this time. your juices making such a mess all over his lap, drenching your thighs and dripping onto his. coating his coat and dripping down his balls.

you were just itching to grind down on his cock, bounce on it until you had your fill and came around him. but he wouldn’t let you.

“no, no, no. you interrupted me. you couldn’t wait for me to finish working.” he murmured into the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. “so you aren’t gonna move. you’re not gonna set the pace.”

while he was typing with his dominant hand, his other hand was busy holding your hips in place with an almost bruising force. he could feel you squirm and twitch around him as you tried to chase your own pleasure, but he wouldn’t have that.

every time he sensed you trying to bounce or grind your hips down, he would give your bare ass a slight smack. not enough to hurt per say, but enough to stop any disobedience from you in its tracks.

you would yelp every time his palm struck across your skin, immediately stilling in his lap.

your gasps and hitched breaths was the only sound that accompanied the sound of his fingers hitting the keyboard. the only sounds leaving his lips, besides him chastising you of course, were his deep breathing.

“please, si.” you would whine into his neck, trying your best to stay still all while feeling so fucking full.

“quiet down, pup. can’t focus with you whinin’ in my ear.” he mutters, bringing his palm down to swat at your ass once more. then keeping his large hand there, splaying across your skin and digging his fingers in. surely with enough force to leave crescent marks in your skin as he held you still on his cock.

you bit your lip and squeezed your eyes shut, your teeth digging in so deep that it almost drew blood. you buried your face in the crook of his neck, feeling his warmth against your cheeks as you tried desperately to obey. to stay still and keep your mouth shut. you willed yourself to focus on his heartbeat thrumming against your cheek and the warmth of his skin against yours.

and that was all going fine, until he thrusted his hips up into you. all under the guise of ‘readjusting his position’.

“mmm,” you whimper brokenly, unable to stop yourself from clenching around his cock. “quit being mean.”

“oh, sorry, what was that doll?” he murmured into your ear with an air of faux innocence. you could almost hear the smirk in his voice as he spoke.

“quit— ngh, moving! please.” you begged into his neck, your pouting lips brushing against his stubbled skin.

“oh, i’m sure you can hold out a bit longer.” was all he crooned before ‘readjusting’ once more.

you felt his cock reach deeper as he bucked his hips again, making you gasp into his neck. you felt that knot in your stomach grow tighter, as you tried so hard to keep the impending orgasm at bay.

you even found yourself holding your breath, as if that would stop the pleasure building up in your stomach.

“squeezin’ me so tight, pup. bet you’re getting real close, hm?”

you would only whine in response, burying yourself in his chest as if you could escape from his cruel treatment. your hands fisted the fabric of his shirt, just trying to hold on as he brought an onslaught of pleasure to you with each thrust.

“simon! stop,” you cried, your voice cracking as your hips finally grind down onto his cock again. “you know i’m close!”

your voice sounded so broken, so pathetic when it hit his ears that he just had to take pity on you.

“go on, then. fuck yourself on my dick. grind that needy cunt down. but i’m not gonna help you. you’re gonna do all the work, darling.”

the moment those words passed his lips, you didn’t waste a single second in bouncing on his cock. all of the wetness from your cunt and the precum from his cock that had accumulated were now making lewd wet sounds with each bounce.

you shifted your position to where your hands were placed on his broad shoulders, perfect to use as a handle while you moved your hips up and down. as soon as you started building a momentum, you exhaled the breath you were holding and instead let out the wanton moan that was building in your chest.

“simon, fuck!” your eyes rolled back as you bounced on his cock, your hands pressing on his strong shoulders with each bounce.

your mind was so fuzzy that you didn’t see simon had completely abandoned his work, in favor of staring up at you. his hands slipped underneath your shirt and grazed up your stomach, before groping at your tits. his thumbs tweaked your nipples, pressing down and rubbing to make the buds pucker.

just that little extra bit of stimulation was enough to make your breath hitch, clenching even more around his cock.

“squeezin’ me so tight, doll. love this fuckin’ cunt.” he ground out, giving your breasts a rough squeeze.

all of the time spent sitting as still as a statue on his cock had made you unbelievably wet and stretched you out perfectly, already bringing you halfway to orgasm. so when you were finally allowed to fuck yourself on his cock, that knot in your stomach only grew quicker and quicker.

“oh my god, fuck,” you cried out as you felt yourself inching dangerously close to the edge.

“so fuckin’ perfect. look so pretty splitting yourself open on my cock.” his lips quirked up into a smirk as he watched you take his cock so good, because you were so fucking good.

“always so fucking good.”

when he heard your moans shift into broken cries, he knew you were so close. you only needed one final push before you were creaming on his cock, squeezing him for all he was worth.

wearing a wolfish grin, his teeth glinting and all, he brought two fingers up to his mouth and sucked them for a moment. once they were nice and wet, he wasted no time in bringing those fingers down to your cunt and started rubbing your swollen clit.

he only laughed when he heard you choke out a moan, seeing your mouth hang open as your orgasm washed over you. his fingers never stopped teasing your swollen, sore nub as you drenched on his cock.

“there you go, good fuckin’ girl.”

©️ glossysoap 2024. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my works without my permission. do not steal any elements of my theme without permission. you can use this work as a scriptfill for gonewildaudios as long as you credit me and link me.

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#mw2 x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #ghost mw2 #cod mw2 #modern warfare 2 x reader #ghost x you #ghost smut #simon riley x you #simon riley #mw2 ghost x reader #aglossyholiday2023

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luvvrz · 21 days

Text

Blurred Lines [Logan / Reader, 18+]

AKA: You and your roommate have something unspoken going on, but the author is half-asleep writing and hoping to god my words make any sense at all because they did NAWT proofread

Additional tags: female reader, friends to lovers, oral stimulation, worship

OTHER WORKS

The way Logan ate was, well... as animalistic as expected.

In his defense, he was a goddamn animal - attempting to housetrain a man like that was like trying to teach a goldfish how to drive.

As he began to chow down, you moved across the kitchen. Your apartment wasn't very big, but it was more than enough for the two of you - though, it was pretty humurous seeing his bulking form squished into one of your tiny kitchen chairs.

He smells of outdoors, of blood and sweat. He could use a bath, no doubt, but there was something enticing about that earthy scent, masculine in nature - so overwhelmingly Logan.

Christ, the two of you were walking a bit of a blurred line, here.

You'd been roommates for God knows how long, now. Sure, there was a bit of flirting here and there, but you always maintained your distance. You get too close to the Wolverine, you get burnt.

As you flutter about like some kind of butterfly, hazel eyes track after you, watching how your pajamas cling to your curves, how your body shifts and stretches. It's almost a tease, the way you bend and move around. His body responds in kind, and he has to shift on the chair to adjust himself discreetly.

Logan takes another bite of his dinner to clear that thought, noticing how the taste of the meat and veggies doesn't do much to quench that heat. He'd give a kidney for some whiskey to take the edge off, but he's all out - though, unbeknownst to him, you know him like the back of your hand.

Even so, you fail notice the way he adjusts himself discreetly in his jeans, or the way his eyes drag over your form. You don't have superhuman senses like he, but you do know him. You know his drinking habits, and you know from the look on his face that his stash is all but dry. You don't even turn to face him as you gather two glasses from the cabinet, before reaching into the pantry.

Whiskey - a freshly bought bottle, from the looks of it.

You take your time, placing a few ice cubes in each cup, before filling them upwards. To the brim, just like he did. You lacked supernatural instincts, but you were observant enough.

"You look thirsty."

The irony of that sentence is lost on you.

You don't wait for a response before you're slipping into the seat across from him, pushing the amber filled glass across the wood. It's enough to render him speechless, a feat not often accomplished - yet, he finds himself almost choking on his dinner. What were you, a goddamn mind reader? Those eyes were wide, unbelieving as they flickered from the glass, to your almost smug face.

"Where'd ya' get this, Bub?"

His voice is barely a grunt as he leans forwards in his seat, calloused hand slipping around the cup. His gaze is back on the glass, tracing the condensation racing down the side for only a moment before he's taking a long swig. It burns going down, and he's grateful for the feeling - a temporary respite from the tension.

"And you? You don't drink whiskey."

This makes you huff a laugh, much to his amusement. There's something alluring about the way you swirl your own glass almost absentmindedly, the alcohol within like liquid gold as your eyes meet his over the rim. There's something intense in the air, electric and dangerous, enough to make him look away almost instantly. For a moment, the room is silent, save for the sound of ice clinking together in some kind of bizarre symphony, before you're speaking again.

"Ah, you didn't know me in college."

You didn't even nurse your drink. Logan's entranced as you bring it to those pink lips, draining the glass in one goddamn fell swoop. Your throat bobs as you swallow, and only once it's completely empty do you slam it back down on the table, a thumb coming up to dab the remnants off the corner of your mouth. It's a nice burn, a low buzz that makes your belly feel warm.

And fuck, it makes Logan feel warm all over, too.

You didn't even bat a goddamn eyelash. Your skin's reddening from the liquor, your lips are spread in that ever-present smirk, and you look like a goddamn angel sent from hell. His eyes don't leave your mouth, watching as that little tongue peaks out to lick at your lips.

Lord have Mercy.

Your lips are moving again, though, and he's broken from his trance.

"Friends drink together, yeah?"

The word makes bile threaten to rise in his throat. Friend, his ass. Friends don't look each other in the eye as they tongue fuck a glass of whiskey - which you'd thrown back like it was a glass of water. Logan's been with a lot of women, seen a lot of shit, yet nothing made his dick stand at attention quicker than watching you drink like a Sailor. You, petite and sweet you, so innocent and pretty and Christ, he wanted to defile. Tear it to shreds, give you something else to wrap those pretty lips around -

"Yeah... friends." He grumbles, bringing his own glass back to his lips.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

One drink turns to two, and two turns into four, and soon enough, the pair of you are six drinks in.

Between the two of you, you've probably drank enough to knock out a whole bar top full of grown men - yet there you sit, pretty as can be, holding the nearly empty bottle to your chest like it was nothing. Sure, your eyes are glossy, and your face is the color of a cherry, but you're holding up immaculately. Your speech isn't slurred, and you don't even look remotely close to hurling, like most in your position would be.

You take yet another sip, crossing one leg over the other - though, the way you're drinking is anything but ladylike.

"Do you even get drunk? I mean, I'd assume the whole regeneration shit would wipe it all right out of there."

Logan huffs softly, the closest thing to a laugh you'd ever get out of him.

"I heal. Ain't got shit to do with being drunk."

Another swig, though the drink is the furthest thing from his mind. How could it not be, he thinks, as his eyes rake across your crossed legs. Sitting so fuckin' pretty, like a living doll.

How can he focus on anything besides those creamy thighs, blemish free and just barely hidden beneath the silken fabric of those pajama shorts. He wants to touch, to grab, to *claim.* You're too good for him, he knows it. You don't deserve what he can provide - or the lack thereof. But he can't help it - sure, he doesn't need a human woman, but damn does he want this one.

And from the way you've been eyeing him like a piece of meat over the table, he's sure you want him too.

He doesn't notice that you're speaking again, nor does he notice that you've risen from your seat. Hell, he doesn't notice a damn thing besides the way that shirt clings to your perky little tits. Lord, are you not wearing a bra? He can see the shape of those pretty nipples just barely stretching the fabric. He'd have a mouth wrapped around one of those melons if you'd just -

Let him in.

He doesn't know where his self-control has gone. Out the window a long time ago, he reckons. Suddenly, a calloused hand is wrapped around your wrist. You're so close he can smell your shampoo, something flowery. He can smell everything. The scent of surprise as he grabs you up, and the scent of interest that follows right after.

He rises to his feet.

"We need ta' talk."

His voice is gruff, a mere rumble as he peers down at you. The contact has your cheeks reddening further, a spark shooting up your spine. He looks so domineering like this, staring down at you through half-lidded eyes, all long dark lashes and widened pupils. You've gone stiff. For a moment, you're floundering. Flustered, as your brain short circuits.

"I, uh..."

You sputter dumbly, wrist flexing weakly in his grip. Your eyes are everywhere but him. He wishes you would look at him - he needs you to look at him.

"I don't really want to talk."

The flush on those pretty cheeks makes his chest ache. He wants to bend you right over this fucking table, but he's just barely got some restraint left within him. He wants to allow his lips to meet that supple neck, to sink his teeth into that skin. To drag them down along your chest, to bury his dick so deep in your heat that -

He growls lowly, bowing his head to better meet your gaze.

"Tough."

He's drawing closer, pink lips just barely ghosting the shell of your ear.

"Don't avoid me, girl. I can smell your lies."

Your jaw goes lax in response, sending a sense of triumph spiking high in his chest. He's teasing you, and you know it. He can smell the excitement leaking into the air, and he loves playing with you like this. You're shuddering in his hands, breath catching in your throat, and he can't help but to swallow thickly. That look in your eyes, it's going straight to his cock.

"Oh, look at you."

And you fucking twitch. You're eating out of the palm of his hand, and it has something feral deep within him roaring with delight. The way your pupils are dilating, it's sending a fire across his skin, lighting his fucking soul ablaze. You look so needy, like he's hung the stars himself.

And then you whimper, and whatever restraint he previously retained snaps.

He groans, a gruff 'fuck' as his hands wrap around those dainty hips like you weigh nothing at all. He's lifting you upwards, setting you up on the counter, and he wastes no time slotting himself between those long legs. His hands are everywhere, one sliding up to cup a handful of those gorgeous tits, while the other moves up to grip your jaw. He's turning your head you meet his gaze, lips just a hairs-width away from your own.

"Say it. Tell me you want me, baby. Let me hear you."

The dominance dripping off his tone is enough to make you whine. His hands are massaging, squeezing, demanding your attention. It's hard to compile any coherent thoughts as those deft fingers close around a nipple, pinching just hard enough to make your back arch upwards against him.

You fucking love it. He can smell it on you as you bob your head dumbly.

"U-Uh-huh. Need you, Logan, I need you so bad."

Your fucking voice, so needy and desperate, it sends an inferno of heat crashing through his chest, and his lips meet yours passionately before you can even finish your sentence.

He's biting at your lip, searching for entrance. His hands are exploring, touching and squeezing and claiming whatever they can reach. They massage at your hips, before sliding downwards to cup your ass. Then he's yanking you forward, tucking his cock snugly within the cleft of your thigh. The feeling makes him shiver, and he has to reel himself in to keep from cumming in his pants like some virgin.

"You don't know what you fuckin' do to me. Been drivin' me crazy for fuckin' weeks, dreamin' about that slutty little mouth of yers'."

He's so hard against you that he's throbbing, and you're reacting like some post-orgasmic Madonna. Those pretty eyes are fluttering, fighting to stay open as you grip his shoulder blades like a lifeline. He's big, and for a moment, he wonders how its going to fit - then again, he really doesn't give a shit. He'll make it fit.

You're gasping into his mouth, licking and sucking and biting on whatever comes closest. Your lips are swollen, and there's drool running down your chin, but you clearly couldn't care less - not when you're sucking on his tongue so greedily it has him seeing stars, making his eyes go unfocused.

"Fuck me, baby, I can take it." You gasp, delicate fingers finding it's way to the hem of your shirt.

One hand snatches your own, pulling it away. He's growling, the sound reverberating his whole chest as he breaks the kiss. He's greedy as he moves to your neck, nosing gently at your pulse point.

You smell so goddamn good.

Then he's latching on, all teeth and tongue as his hands make quick work or your shirt, tearing the fabric like it's a piece of paper. It makes you squeal - he's sure you loved that shirt, but he doesn't give a damn. Not now.

"You're gonna take whatever I fuckin' give you, yeah?"

His head is hazy, and the way you're moaning like a wanton little bitch isn't helping him see any clearer. Your titties are bouncing, just barely held back by that flimsy bra, and his pants are so constricting that it hurts. He's got a vice grip on your thighs, fingers digging into the skin as he moves down your body, punctuation each movement with a kiss, or a nip. You whine the whole way down, making him grin into your skin.

From your chest, to your belly, to your waist line. Your hands have found purchase in his hair, knotting through the unkempt lock, and those nails are scratching at his scalp in just the right way that has him wanting to sing praises to the heavens. Those sharp teeth are catching in the waistline of your pants, and he's dragging them down with him.

You look divine like this, bare and trembling for him. His fucking mouth is watering, and you're getting off just on the way he's staring up at you from between your thighs. He looks predatory, eyes dark and narrowed as he licks a thin stripe at your inner thigh. Your hands are pushing down, so goddamn impatient. You're calling out for him like a mantra, and he hasn't even started yet.

If he was a lesser man, he would've fucked you there. But he didn't just want to fuck you, he wanted to worship you. Make you cum on his tongue and sing his name until it's the only word you remember.

He intends to do exactly that.

One hand is slipping beneath the wristbands of his sweats as he leans closer, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your pretty pussy. It makes you tense, and he chuckles softly as he uses his free hand to push your thighs further apart. Spread and bare, he feels like a parched man in the desert. Your pussy is so goddamn pretty, clit swollen and walls of velvet fluttering around fucking nothing. God, he could cum just from watching your squirm like this.

But this wasn't about him.

Without much more resistance, he's diving in. One slow stripe up your soaking slit has you keening, back arching as taut as a bow. He's sure you're squealing, but your thighs are squeezing his head so tightly that everything's muffled. He can't help but to groan at the heady taste of you, so fucking wet it's coating your thighs. He's like a man starved as he begins to worship your pussy like it's the only thing left on this fucking earth.

The fist around himself grips him tighter, and God, he feels like a fucking rock. He can't remember ever being this hard before. His balls are tight, and he's twitching angrily at each slick pass of his hand. The taste of you, mixed with the feeling of his calloused hand makes his eyes roll back.

You were so fucking sexy, the way you babbled as he tongue-fucked you like his life depended on it. In and out, your walls squeezing his tongue as if trying to beckon it deeper. He laughs at that, at your impatience, pulling back for a moment. You whine, clearly displeased by the lost of contact - until he spits on your your clit, thumb moving up to rub quick, tight circles on the bundle of nerves as he met your eyes once more.

"Talk to me, baby, tell me what you need."

It's pointless, really. You're gone, past the point of communication, but it's adorable the way that you try. You're babbling so sweetly, and the only words he can make out is 'please' and 'thank you.' His cock jumps at that, at his sweet girl begging so prettily.

His thumb is still doing figure-8s on your clit, tongue still lapping at your pussy like it was the only thing he knew how to do. He deserves a medal for multitasking, he thinks - not that it mattered. He could cum just like this, stroking his dick or not.

You're close, and he can tell. He didn't expect you to last long, not with how sensitive you were, but it was still a surprise to feel your walls start to constrict urgently around his tongue. He smirks, eyes darting up to watch your blushing face. You can't even meet his eyes anymore, too fucked out to do anything but sit there and take it.

So goddamn gorgeous.

It doesn't take long, not at all. He can sense it, in the way your muscles grow tense. You're getting wetter in his mouth, your hips canting upwards with purpose. Your grip in his hair is growing tighter, and your breathing is erratic. Only a little more, you told him. Then it became a mission.

Your words were true. All it took was him sucking your clit into his mouth, two fingers moving downwards to slip into you and curling upwards in a 'come here' motion, and then you were spasming like a woman possessed. He doesn't think he's ever heard you scream that loudly, and he doesn't think he's ever heard a sound so beautiful in his life. He isn't ashamed by the way he follows promptly after, either, spilling hot and fast into his pants with a breathy grunt.

The line wasn't blurred, not anymore.

#logan howlett smut #logan x reader #logan howlett #logan #wolverine #wolverine x reader #drabble #short ficlet

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alexanderwales · 2 months

Text

The Digital Corpse

I always read about what school shooters or wannabe assassins have to say. I read or at least skim through manifestos, most of which are really poorly written and usually just have badly misunderstood ideas that are copy-pasted from diverse places. I read social media posts and discord logs, where available. Some of this is morbid fascination that I don't endorse, but some of it is the impulse to understand how and why a thing like this happened.

So I've been following the news on Trump's would-be assassin, and to all appearances he was just a kid who was bullied at school and didn't have a lot of hobbies, skills, talents, or friends. He wanted power and control and had no way to get it, and I think there's something to the notion that a lot of white men think that their whiteness or maleness means they're owed something. When Trump came to town, it was opportunity falling into his lap. If you're 20 years old and feeling like the world cares nothing for you, then yeah, I can see why you'd take your shot. It's a way of being famous, of going out with a bang, and young men often feel invincible anyway. The shocking thing is that it almost worked, and that seems to be down to incompetence and complacency.

But if it had worked, and they hadn't immediately shot him to death, he'd have gotten all the worst parts of fame (in addition to what would probably be life in prison). In death he's got intense scrutiny of everything he's ever posted online. There are reports about how sad and lonely he was. If he'd succeeded, maybe there would be some on the left who would idolize him, but as it stands ... I can imagine wanting to be megafamous, but I cannot imagine wanting it to be like this. It was almost certainly different in his imagination though, a grand moment that would give meaning to his life and demonstrate that he did, in fact, have power.

And of course the whole thing will be forgotten in a week or two. A year from now you'll say the name "Thomas Crooks" and people will say "huh, that ... do I know that name?"

On the other side of things, there's Corey Comperatore. He was the other person to die that day, just a random guy who had attended a Trump rally and got hit by a bullet because from one specific angle he was standing behind Trump. If Thomas Crooks left almost nothing behind to make sense of his life, Corey Comperatore left behind what feels like a lot. The fame is more double-edged. He's lauded as a hero by some, even if the only thing he did was catch a stray. Generously, that's a way of making sense of things: just like it's not enough for Crooks to be alienated and dejected, it's not enough for Comperatore to just be someone who was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

But Corey Comperatore is also having his life torn open, or at least the parts of it that he put online. Posting online was something he probably did without thinking too much about it. The worst one, for me, was him saying that the Palestinians would "get over it" like the Japanese did. It's something I think about a lot in the social media age, the picture that people would get if they went looking through all our posts, if they were trying to make a picture of you from the things you've left behind. If you died in a very public way, what's the worst post you've ever made? What would people find ironic? But of course you don't need to die, we're in an era where anyone can get flash famous by random happenstance. And of course in the modern day we want the delicious little morsels, the worst thing you've ever said, the most ironic, most iconic, most infuriating sound bite that can represent a whole person. Anything more anodyne is pointless, even if that's the bulk of someone's life.

I'm probably a little unusual in terms of digital fingerprints. I'm active on discords, I've written some four million words of fiction, and my reddit comment karma is in the six figure range, which probably means that I've got something like fifty thousand comments. I talk a lot. But I do think about being torn apart like that, what would happen if I were famous for a day before the news cycle moved on, if there were hundreds or thousands of people trying to make sense of me.

When I die, if anyone has reason to go snooping through my history, I hope there's a good-looking corpse.

#assassination attempt #thomas crooks #corey comperatore #digital corpse #trump assassination

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janeyseymour · 10 months

Text

Bridge Over Troubled Water

Request by: @iloveyall-18

Summary: You're Melissa's aide, and she's working you to the point where you think you might have to quit.

WC: ~7.3k

Ashley got fired. Or... Melissa threatened that if she ever came back, she would wish she hadn’t. Either way, the aide wasn’t coming back, and the redhead was back to teaching two separate grades on her own... not that she wasn’t doing that before, but now it's official. She’s back to being on her own.

“I don’t need another aide!” the teacher huffs at the principal. “I do just fine on my own, and I swear to you... if that little-” she cuts herself off before threatening Ava, “If Ashley comes back to me, I will retire early and leave you to handle two separate grades in one classroom.”

“You won’t!” Ava challenges.

“You wanna put money on it?” Melissa spits right back. She storms out of the room, not bending her knees and clearly very angry. Anybody could see that. What they don’t see is the absolute mess that her former aide had left for her.

The room was currently in shambles. The progress monitoring papers weren’t organized in the slightest, the decorations were randomly hung with no sense of order or reason at all, half the desks were out of sorts, and the kids were still singing that stupid body song that Ashley had taught them while pounding on their desks. She still had to finish doing reading benchmarks with her third grade- or maybe it was second grade? Melissa has no idea at this point- all she knows is she’s about two seconds from taking a bat to her filing cabinet to get out her rage.

“Alright!” she shouts into the room, her voice booming. Almost instantly, the kids stop. She takes a deep breath. “Okay, my little eagles. We’re taking quiet time a little early today so... So Ms. Schemmenti can get this place in order.”

A few of her kids help her organize the desks while Melissa does her best to organize the progress monitoring papers, as well as the other papers she kept on file for each kid. It doesn’t go well- she keeps confusing which students are in second grade and which students are in third grade. It doesn’t help that she has a few sets of siblings, and she had most of her third graders last year as second graders. She eventually just gives up.

“Line up,” the woman sighs in defeat. “We’re going outside.”

“Extra recess?” Maddie, one of the second graders, asks hopefully.

“Yeah, hon,” the redhead smiles down at him gently. “Ms. Schemmenti needs some fresh air, and hopefully a walk around the block if Ms. Teagues is outside too.”

“Do you think you need a hug?” the little girl asks. “Sometimes when I’m frustrated and need fresh air, I need a hug too.”

The teacher’s heart nearly melts. “Yeah, kiddo,” she says softly. “I think Ms. Schemmenti could use a Maddie hug.”

The second grader embraces her teacher for a few seconds before pulling away. “Feel a little better?” she asks hopefully.

“I do, sweetheart,” Melissa promises. “Thank you.”

As the combined second and third grade class makes their way down the hall, they stop at Janine’s room. “We’re goin’ outside. You comin’?”

“O-oh, yeah,” Janine looks shocked. “Yeah, we’ll be out in a few minutes.”

Melissa smirks to herself. “Alright, kid. Don’t be too long now.” It was looking like she was going to get her walk around the block that she had hoped for... and maybe a water ice or a hoagie from Wawa to cheer her up even more.

That was a few days ago. Melissa was floundering with the two grades again. She hates to admit it, but Ashley had some sort of way with the kids that could keep them occupied while she handled the bulk of it. And even if she wasn’t usually helpful, having some sort of distraction so she could focus was useful.

“Okay,” she storms into Ava’s office. “So many I could use an aide, but I swear to God, it better not be-”

“Melissa,” Ava cuts her off in an oddly serious tone. “I’m in an interview.” Only then does the redhead stop her tangent. She looks at the chair across from Ava, and there you are. You’re terrified of this woman to be quite frank- just storming into the room and knowing exactly what she wants. And she’s... wow. She’s really pretty. And the way that her- get your head out of the gutter.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Melissa fumbles her words. She’s too busy looking at you too, not that she would admit that to anyone. “We’ll talk late-”

“Well, Ms. Schemmenti,” the principal laughs. “Because I am such a great owner of this school, I decided to take initiative and find you a replacement aide after you so... rudely... let Ashley go. This is Y/N. She’ll be your new aide.”

You bite your lip. You have no idea how you’re going to work with her when you already have the hots for her. “Hi,” you say shyly and stick your hand out.

She shakes it. “Schemmenti. Melissa. Let’s get goin. I gotta pick the kids up, and then I need to finish their reading checks, so you can just hang back for the afternoon and observe and get to know the little monsters.”

You hesitate to move, and she glares at you. “C’mon, what's the matter with you? You need a special invitation?” She shakes her head, clearly not approving you, and stalks down the halls. You sigh, grab your bag, thank Ava quietly, and head towards your assigned teacher. You easily fall into step with her.

She collects the kids from music room and directs the line leader to take them all the way down to the classroom. Once the kids are settled in their seats, Melissa allows them to grab their snacks from their bags before she turns on a read aloud from Storyline Online- one of your favorite websites to use with the kids. She notices that you’re still standing awkwardly just inside of the door.

“C’mere,” she rolls her eyes. You quickly go to her desk. “Yes, Ms. Schemmenti?”

“First off,” she huffs. “It’s Melissa. Ain’t no need to be formal with me, you got that?” you nod. “Second, that back table is your new desk, but you do anything too stupid to it, I will take it back, and you’ll have to stand all day. Y’understand?”

“Yes, ma’am,” you say rigidly.

“Still too formal,” the redhead tells you. “C’mon. Just say my name.”

“O-okay, Melissa,” you whisper. She smiles at you, just barely. But you know you want to see that smile again. You see the way her eyes sparkle just a little differently when you’ve done something that isn’t pissing her off.

“There y’go, hon,” she smirks. “Now... for today, like I told you, I’m just monitoring their reading and checking progress, and I’ll probably be doing that for the next few days since my last aide spilled all of her gatorade over the first few kids’ work I already did. Use that time to just settle in- maybe get to know the kids a little bit.”

You nod and head back to where she told you your station was. You immediately see a bunch of thick water rings on the wood, presumably from the incompetent aide before you. You see the way that some parts of the desk are still sticky with... is that gum? And there’s paint all over the desk. You walk back over to her desk, and she finally looks like she's at some sort of peace. You hate to interrupt it.

“Do you have cleaner? That desk is a mess,” you request softly.

“Bottom cabinet by the sink,” she tells you. “Paper towels are down there too.”

“Thank you,” you smile at her as you walk away. She almost instantly falls in love with your smile. She always wants to see it.

You clean the desk and have your things relatively set up when the story is over, and she turns the lights back on.

“Alright, my little monsters,” she smiles as she stands and makes her way around her desk. “As some of you know, Miss Ashley is gone, and Principal Coleman was able to find us a replacement, so this is Ms. Y/N. Don’t rip her apart, you hear?”

“Yes, Ms. Schemmenti,” They say in unison. She has a smirk on her face though.

“Ms. Schemmenti has to do some more independent reading with youse, so if I’m not working with you, your choices are to-” she opens her marker and starts writing on the board. “Read independently, work on any papers in your unfinished work folder, or do math fluency. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Ms. Schemmenti.”

“Since this is all independent work, should I be able to hear your squeaky little voices?” Melissa asks them, a smile on her face.

“No, Ms. Schemmenti.”

“Alright, kiddos. Start working. I’m gonna need Maddie first.”

As the kids start to get out their materials, and Melissa takes to work with a student at the table connected to her desk, you stand. You might as well make yourself useful and make sure the students are doing what they’re supposed to be doing. You start circulating the room quietly, making sure to redirect a few students who aren’t doing what they should be.

You even sit down with a student who seems to be having trouble with their reading and start to help them decode words that aren’t sight words. You help them sound the word out and use their context clues to figure out the meaning of the word.

Your assigned teacher starts calling other students, and you can’t help that she’s haphazardly throwing the progress monitoring sheets onto her desk. You look around the room. Every student is doing what they’re supposed to be doing. You walk over.

“Can I help you organize those?” you ask shyly. “I don’t want to overstep my bounds, but I would love to help in any way I can.”

She glances up at you, and there are those sparkling green eyes again. “You know what?” she mutters to herself. She pulls two separate class lists out along with some folders. “Knock yourself out kid.”

You smile as you take the materials and bring them back to your table. You’re able to sort through the papers and get them in order in no time.

“Do you have a filing cabinet, or maybe bins for this to go in?” you ask as you bring the stacks back over. “Any other papers for me to file?”

She just points over at the bigger piles on her desk. You grab them and think about how you want to organize all of this for her. She has different colored folders, manilla folders, and a filing cabinet.

You assign each color folder a subject and put one of each color folder in a manilla folder. The manilla folder has the student’s name on it, and then that goes into the filing cabinet. This way, if Melissa needs to pull information for a certain student, it’s all in one place. If she needs to pull from a certain subject, she’ll know what color folder to pull for each student. You’ve used this system before. You know it’ll work just fine for the redhead so long as you leave her with a key for the colored folders.

While you do this, you still manage to make sure the students are staying on task and are remaining relatively quiet. You go between organizing her papers and tending to the students seamlessly. Melissa can’t help but look at you in wonder. Maybe she got lucky having you join her class.

After a bit of time, Melissa pulls the class back together to do a whole group math lesson, a new concept for the second graders and review for the third graders, and while she’s teaching you continue to silently organize. When the time comes for the students to practice, you circulate the room in order to make sure students are grasping the concept- they should. The redhead taught it very thoroughly and very explicitly.

After math, the students head out for lunch. You settle in at your desk, ready to nibble on the granola bar you brought for the first day- eating in new places always made you relatively nervous. You promise yourself tomorrow you’ll bring a real lunch.

“Hey, Y/N,” Melissa comes back into the room after dropping the kids off at lunch. “You got a lunch?” You raise your granola bar in the air as you chew, a hand over your mouth. “We got a staff room if you’d rather eat there. I’ll be there for the lunch period, and then I’ll be back to grade those worksheets.”

You just nod quietly and settle into your seat. She lingers at the door for a few seconds before shrugging. “Suit yourself.”

You finish your lunch relatively quickly. During the lunch period, you manage to write your key for your filing system, finish filing their papers, and grade the third graders’ papers. You set them neatly on her desk with a sticky note that says, Hope you don’t mind.

“I have no clue who she is or where she came from,” Melissa sighs into her lasagna. “But she’s like a walking angel on this Earth.”

“Oh?” Barb pops an eyebrow.

“In the hour she’s been in my room, she’s cleaned the mess that Ashley left, came up with a filing system for me and started putting it together, made sure the kids were on task while I progress-monitored for reading, and helped Shyane with her decoding. This woman isn’t real, I swear.”

“That’s great to hear, Melissa,” the kindergarten teacher smiles. “You deserve the help after what... she did to your room. And what’s her name?”

“Y/N,” the redhead says.

“You actually know her name?”

“I figured I should probably learn it,” the second and third grade teacher shrugs. “Lord knows I yelled Ashley’s name enough. It woulda helped if I actually knew her name the first two weeks I was yellin’ at her.”

Barb just laughs. Their lunch period ends, and Melissa finds herself almost excited to come back into the classroom to see you.

You’re sitting at your table, head down as you type furiously on your laptop. You’re trying to finish up this paper to submit for your graduate program. It isn’t due for another three days, but you want to be finished with it so you can attempt to settle into your new job.

Melissa silently meanders her way over to her desk where she sees everything you’ve done. Her eyes widen as she realizes just how much you had completed for her. She opens her filing cabinet and looks at how you’ve organized everything before taping your rather aesthetically pleasing legend to that portion of the cabinet.

“You didn’t have to do all this, hon,” she says softly. “I appreciate it though.”

You wave a hand in dismissal and continue writing your paper. “I had the time, and I didn’t mind. I hope you don’t mind that I graded the third graders’ stuff for you. I wasn’t sure what you wanted to do with it though, so I left it out.”

“Thank you,” she says earnestly. “I really do appreciate it. You just saved my Saturday.”

“Of course, Melissa,” you reply, eyes still glued to your computer.

“You workin’ on something important over there?” she asks.

You stop your typing to look up and smile at her. “Just trying to get ahead on my paper for my one graduate class.”

“You’re in grad school?”

“I am,” you say softly. “I used to teach third grade out in the suburbs of Philly, but I decided to take a leave of absence to take some classes over at Temple. I don’t know if I could handle all of the aspects of teaching while taking four grad classes at a time.”

“Four?” her brows furrow. “That’s a lot of work.”

“It’s nothin’ I can’t handle. I’m trying to get it done as quickly as I can so I can get back to teaching.”

“So how’d you end up here?”

“I could use the money, and all of my classes are at night anyway, so I have time during the day to keep in touch with my inner teacher.”

“What’re you going for?”

“Masters in reading,” you chuckle.

“So that’s why you could help Shyane with her reading and make it make sense for her,” Melissa catches on.

“Yup,” you chuckle, popping your ‘p’. “I can always help with progress monitoring too, if you’d like.”

“That would be greatly appreciated. And your classroom management is amazing,” she compliments.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” you blush.

“That’s the quietest my classes have been since... the second week of school,” the redhead tells you as she starts grading the second graders’ work. “Give yourself more credit, rookie.”

---

That was two months ago. In the past two months, your graduate classes have really picked up. During any moment of downtime, you’re doing schoolwork. In this time, Melissa and you have grown close. You’ve come to realize she isn’t as tough as she likes to play- she’s actually quite soft for you. She’s also realized that you truly are an amazing teacher. The two of you are practically co-teaching the two different grades at this point, and she’s given you almost complete control of both grades’ reading workshop times. The two of you actually changed the schedules so that you could direct your full attention to both grades for their reading. While one group is doing their reading workshop lesson on the carpet, the other grade is doing independent work, and Melissa either circulates the room or is doing work at her desk.

You feel like you’re doing all of the work of a teacher at this point, without the pay of a teacher. She’s even asked you to come in for conferences to help explain certain aspects of the day to the students’ parents. At the rate you’re going, you would’ve been better off just staying at your old school and dealing with the parents and students there. You’re drowning. You are absolutely drowning. You don’t think you can do this anymore.

You have to tell Ava you have to quit so you can focus on your classes again. You don’t want to leave the second and third grade teacher with her classes all by herself again... and you honestly don’t want to leave the redhead. She brings a spring to your step and makes you feel like you’re always doing amazingly. But you just... can’t handle doing this anymore. You're beyond stressed, and the only way you function at this point is with copious amounts of caffeine in your system at any given time. It’s unhealthy, you’ve lost weight from the stress and the fact that you barely have time to eat anything, and you need to... you need to leave while you’re on good terms with Melissa. You need to leave before you disappoint her because you’re falling behind.

You enter the classroom early like you always do, setting your things down at your table. Usually, you take this time while Melissa is in the staff room to continue working on a paper or researching, but instead you walk down to Ava’s office.

“Hey, Ava,” you knock gently on the frame of her door. “You have a minute?”

“Hey, girl,” she doesn’t even bother to glance up from her phone. “If you’re looking for more cleaning supplies, Mr. J took them all to-”

“I was actually hoping we could talk,” you say softly. “I have something I need to tell you.”

“Are you finally filling out a relationship form for you and Schemmenti?” the principal asks as she looks away from her phone, leaning forward.

“What?” you ask, flabbergasted.

“Oh please,” Ava laughs in your face. “Don’t act like you two haven’t been sneakin-”

“Ava, I’m here to quit,” you get out before she can say anything else.

“W-what? No, you can’t do that,” the principal argues. “That classroom hasn’t been in better shape. Melissa hasn’t been angry walkin’ through the halls since you showed up.”

“I don’t want to leave, but I have to in order to keep up with my grad classes,” you tell her. “I can stay through conferences, but then I really have to focus on my own classwork.”

“But you're just an aide,” Ava tells you. “Surely you can handle it.”

“At this point, Melissa and I are co-teaching, and I’m only making an aide’s money. My grades are starting to slip in grad school, and I have to focus on that,” you tell her. “I’m running myself into the ground. I can’t keep doing this.”

“What if I just don’t accept your resignation?” she challenges.

“Ava!” You fold your arms over your chest. “I’ll stay through conferences to help Mel, but then I have to focus on myself for a little.”

“Mel?”

“Not the point, Principal Coleman.”

“What if I offered you a contracted position?” Ava tries to bargain.

“You and I both know that’s not possible,” you sigh. “I’ve seen the budget, and Abbott is already pushing the limit.”

She groans. “You have to tell your woman though. There ain’t a chance in hell I’m telling her.”

“She’s not my woman,” you roll your eyes, but you exit. You suppose you’ll tell Melissa today during your prep.

You return back to your classroom, and those striking green eyes light up when she sees you.

“There y’are,” she smiles at you. “I was hopin’ you would be here. I wanna talk to you about your thoughts on the field trip for the spring.”

You bite your cheek but nod. She doesn’t need to know you won’t be there for the field trip just yet. And if you tell her right now about your plans, she will flip. There’s not enough time to discuss that before the kids come in. So you wait to tell her. You discuss the different ideas for field trips to maybe do in the Spring. You suggest Longwood Gardens, while she thinks of the zoo. You have the idea to go to an arboretum, and she tells you maybe they could go to the ‘water zoo’, as one of your students loves to call it.

You teach your lesson while she progress-monitors for the other group, and then both classes have their special.

“Ms. Y/N?” the teacher asks. “Would you mind walking them down to the gym while I run to the bathroom?”

You nod, and the kiddos all line up for you. You walk them down and are headed back into the classroom before you’re ready. The redhead falls into step with you as she leaves the bathroom.

“They’ve been pretty good today,” Melissa notes quietly as she walks with you.

“Yeah,” you sigh softly. You start to play with the hem of your shirt nervously as you come to terms with the fact that you have to tell her you’re leaving in three weeks.

“You okay, Y/N?” she picks up on one of your many nervous habits. “You need another pick me up? I can make another pot of coffee for us, although I do think you might benefit from something other than coffee.”

You start to pick at the imaginary lint on your pants. “I think we need to talk, actually.”

“Oh?” she looks at you with eyebrows knit in concern. “You need someone to sign off on your papers for grad classes?”

“N-no,” you chuckle nervously as you close the door. “I uh... I actually need to talk to you about after conferences.”

“Sure. hon. You got another brilliant idea?” She takes a seat at her desk, taking off her glasses and setting them on top of her hair.

You sit on the edge of her desk and take a shaky breath. “Mel, after we hold conferences... I’m done.”

“Y-you’re what?” she freezes in her place.

“After conferences, I have to be done here,” you say softly, and you can’t look at her.

“You’re leavin’ us?” she whispers. She sounds heartbroken. “Leaving me? Just givin’ up on Abbott?”

You shake your head quickly. “No. Melissa, let me explain. Please.” You finally gain the courage to look at her, and you can see the tears in her eyes. You didn’t think leaving would affect her like this.

“Go ahead,” she says, tone full of ice. Her hands are on her hips, and she refuses to look at you. “Tell me why you’re leaving us. Giving up.”

‘Melissa,” you whisper and set a gentle hand on her arm.

“Don’t touch me,” she bites out. “Just explain yourself. How you’re too good for Abbott, so you’re going back to fancy, rich school out in the sub-”

“Melissa, I’m burning out,” you cut her off as you stand and start pacing her room. “I don’t want to leave, but I have to look out for my own well-being.” The redhead goes to open her mouth, but you continue. “I love Abbott more than you could ever imagine, but at this point: I’m running myself into the ground. I’m a full time grad student, I still work my shift at the restaurant on Sundays-”

“You never told me you did th-”

“-And at this point, I’m co-teaching with you. I don’t mind co-teaching with you; I actually love it. But I don’t have the time to plan out lessons, grade papers at home, or help you respond to parents when we’re off the clock. I’m only getting paid the aide’s pay, and I’m drowning in my own school assignments at this point. I-” you choke on your own breath.

All of this is finally spilling out, and you can’t stop the tears that spring to your eyes and fall down your cheeks. You didn’t realize how overwhelmed you were.

“I barely sleep, I barely eat, and I can hardly afford my rent at this point,” you admit so quietly. “So I think I- If I had known this is what being an aide was going to be like, all the responsibilities of a contracted teacher without the teacher pay, I would’ve just stayed at my old school. I- I can’t do this anymore. I’ll stay and help with conferences, but after that... I told Ava I was done.”

The redhead looks at you and the way that you’re shaking, just barely breathing and trying to catch your breath. Her heart breaks for you. This was her fault. She expected too much of you and worked you into the ground.

“Hon,” she stands from her chair and walks around her desk. She pulls you into a hug. “Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling this way? You could’ve told me.”

“Didn’t wanna- didn’t wanna disappoint you,” you shrug as you practically cling to her.

“Y/N,” Melissa pulls back to look at you. “Are you kidding me? You couldn’t disappoint me if you tried. You have natural talent when it comes to all of this, and even if you gave me just 25% as opposed to your usual 110%... It would be more than enough.”

Again, you shrug. “You kept asking for help, and I didn’t want to say no,” you mumble. “I know you’ve been struggling, and I wanted to make things as easy as possible for you- especially with the two different grades.”

“Hon, I’m a Schemmenti. I was made for tough situations,” the redhead chuckles, trying to lighten the mood. “You, however, are not a Schemmenti. You’re close, but not quite. So you gotta tell me when you’re struggling and need some support or leniency, because I’d rather have a little more on my plate than usual while you’re still here with me than have everything on my plate and not have you here... or worse, have Ashley come back.”

You inhale deeply, finally being able to catch your breath, and you wipe your tears. “I- sorry. I don’t usually get like this, but I’m-”

“Please don’t leave,” Melissa practically begs you. “I don’t know if I can go back to having all of these kids to myself.”

“Mel, I’m working myself into the ground,” you tell her, and you sit down on one of the desks. The tears in your eyes just continue to well and fall. “I really don’t think I can keep doing this... It’s getting bad again.”

“What’s getting bad?” she asks as she mimics your actions.

You run a hand through your hair. A decent clump comes out as you comb your fingers through. You make sure the second and third grade teacher sees it before you throw it out. You sigh a shaky sigh. You suppose you can admit everything now that you’ve burst into tears. “When I get really stressed... I don’t know how to stop. I just keep going, but it affects m-my everything. My hair has been falling out because of my stress. Since I’ve started working here, I’ve lost fifteen pounds because I just don’t have the time to eat, and when I do... I just end up going to bed. And even when I do that, I still only get a maximum of four hours of sleep a night because I know I have things to do for you and the kids. I- I can’t keep doing this to myself, and I know it’ll get to a point where I’m just useless to you. You and the kids deserve so much better than what I’ll be giving you if I keep going. So, I’d rather be able to leave on good terms with Abbott and you before I ruin everything.”

You’re telling her the truth. This is all happening, and you really don’t want to leave on bad terms. You don’t want to disappoint Melissa. You quite literally think your heart would break if Melissa were ever disappointed in you. Over the past two months, all you’ve wanted to do is please Melissa and make her happy- make it easier for her in any way you can.

Somewhere in the middle of being her teacher’s aide, you found yourself falling in love with her. You don’t know it, but she’s head over heels for you too. You make her days so much brighter. Even just your presence and the soft smiles you throw at her occasionally keep her calm, cool, and collected. She would rather have to take on more responsibility again but be able to keep you than have you leave all together and leave her with the shitshow.

“Hon,” she says softly. “Why didn’t you- how can I support you through this?”

You shake out your hands nervously. “I’ll be fine. I just have to get through this rough patch, and then I’ll be fine. I’ll- I’ll pick up more shifts at the restaurant to help cover my rent, and I-” you don’t know what else to say.

“Is there any way I can convince you to stay?” Melissa asks you hopefully. “I really would hate to lose ya.”

You shrug. You aren’t sure. You know that if she can come up with a few solid reasons or ways for you to stay, you will. You don’t want to leave, but it might be what you have to do.

“What if... I know we have a little wiggle room in the budget, so I can-”

“Ava already tried to offer me a contract position, but I know there isn't enough money there,” you sigh.

“But I’m sure we can argue to the board that you deserve some sort of raise?”

“I’m outsourced,” you tell her. “The board isn’t in charge of me.”

“Okay...” the woman desperate to keep you racks her brain for other ideas. “What if... I’ll start taking the third graders’ stuff home to grade instead of you. I’ll make sure I have everything planned out and the materials for lessons other than Reading workshop time... I really do think you do better with that than I ever have. And I’ll handle the parents the best that I can and only run an email by you if I really think I could use some... talking down..., and I- I’ll- I can make ya lunch to make sure you’re at least eating somewhat properly. This way... you’ll have some time to relax at home, you’ll be less stressed, and you can enjoy some of the best Italian food I got to offer. And, during everyone’s independent time, while I progress monitor, all I want you to worry about is making sure that pretty little head of yours is getting your degree. How’s that sound?”

“Mel...” you bite your lip. “That’s all real nice of you, but that doesn’t... I’d be taking a big step back from what you’re used to. I really don’t-”

“Please,” Melissa begs you. “Please. The kids- they love and respect you, and they would be heartbroken if you left. They’ve never listened to anyone as good as they do you. And I don’t want ya to go. It doesn’t even matter if you were to help out with the lessons anymore. You keep the kids calm, and you keep me calm. Like I said, I’m a Schemmenti; I can handle it all- that’s why I got stuck with the two classes in the first place. Gettin’ you was just a bonus. But now that I got ya, I don’t want to let you go. You make me a way better teacher, even if just to keep my emotions in check. Even if you don’t help plan the lessons anymore, or teach the kids... I want you around.You keep me grounded on days where I think I might lose it. I’ll be two seconds from snapping on Tymir, and all I gotta do is look at you to calm me down. I don’t wanna lose that; I don’t wanna lose you... and my sanity. You make my days way brighter than they used to be. Please stay with us.”

She’s doing everything she can to convey how she feels about you without outright saying it. She’s saying anything she can think of to keep you around. She doesn’t want to lose you. She doesn’t want to lose you because no matter what you do, you keep her grounded. You make her a better teacher. You make her days brighter. You keep her in check. She wants you to stay.

You worry your lip between your teeth as you mull everything over in your head. “I just don’t want you to start to hate me,” you admit nervously.

“I could never,” she tells you honestly.

“Even if I’m not doing as much?”

“Even if you did absolutely nothing but sit at your desk and look pretty all day,” she assures you. “I could never hate you.” I love you.

“You think I’m pretty?”

“Not the point,” Melissa rolls her eyes playfully. “But yes. I’d have to be blind to think you weren’t pretty.”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. “O-okay. I’ll stay.”

The next thing you know, Melissa’s arms are around you and squeezing you tightly, thanking you endlessly. “Oh, thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

You give a watery chuckle before you hazard a glance at the clock. “I think you gotta go pick up the kiddos from the gym.”

“Dammit,” she grumbles. She pulls away and attempts to wipe away your tears with her sleeve. “Okay, okay. You go pull yourself together, go tell Ava that you ain’t leaving... and then all you gotta worry about today is looking pretty in the back. I don’t care what you do back there... sleep, eat, do research for your paper, start a cult... whatever you have to do to stay here with me... and the kids.”

“I’m not starting a cult,” you chuckle through watery tears. “Thank you, Mel.”

The two of you walk out of the classroom and head your separate ways- her towards the gym, you towards the bathroom.

You manage to pull yourself together a few minutes later, and then you walk down to Ava’s office.

“I take my resignation back,” you tell the principal as you enter her office.

“Your girl ain’t letting you go?”

“She isn’t my girl, but... she asked me to stay and we agreed on terms for me to work under, so I’ll be staying.”

Your principal just makes a whipping sound. “All I’m sayin is, should I get the forms ready for the two of you to file?”

You roll your eyes. “No, Ava. I- She isn’t into me like that.”

“That’s what you think,” Ava fires out. “That woman makes more eyes at you than Gregory did at Janine. It’s only a matter of time before you two come in here holding hands.”

With a huff and a toss of your hair, you exit the office and head back for the second grade wing.

When you re-enter the classroom, the kids are in the middle of snacking, but they’re doing a ‘working snack’ as you and Melissa call it. You don’t know what they’re working on, but when they finish it, they hold it close to their chest and take it up to the redheaded teacher. She gives each of them a sticker (from the tablet of stickers you bought for them) and sets the paper face down on her desk.

They don’t bother you at all as you make your way to the back of the room and settle at your seat. You pull out your laptop and attempt to focus enough to work on your paper, but you can’t help yourself from glancing up at the redheaded teacher every once in a while as she praises the students for their hard work.

Come lunch time, she heads down to the front office to pick up the cheesesteaks she had ordered for the two of you. You smell them before you know they’re for you, and you’re envious of whoever gets to dig into it. A cheesesteak sounds perfect just about now- so much better than the poptart you had packed yourself.

She walks in, both sandwiches in her arms, with a grin. “Put your laptop away, and enjoy lunch for once, hon.”

You nod and pull the poptart out of your bag. You go to open it when she plucks it out of your hand and throws it back into your bag. Instead, she lays the sandwich down in front of you. She pulls one of the chairs up to your table and starts to unwrap hers, biting into it with a moan.

“Damn,” she says through a mouthful. “That hits the spot.”

“M-Mel, you didn’t have to do that,” you say bashfully as you unwrap it. You take a small bite of the sandwich, and while your reaction to the first bite isn’t what Melissa’s was, you have to admit it’s pretty damn good.

“I didn’t have to do anything,” she chuckles. “I wanted to. And when I’m done destroyin’ this, I’m gonna brew us another pot of coffee, and then I’ll cover your recess duty so you can do whatever it is that you have to-”

“Melissa,” you cut her off. “You’re going over the top.”

“I went over the top when I worked ya to the bone. Let me make it up to you.”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Well, I’m gonna be out to cover your recess duty whether you’re out there or not, so...”

“Thank you,” you lay a gentle hand over hers and give it a squeeze. “I appreciate it.”

“I appreciate you and all the hard work you’ve been doing. If you need another day like this at any point where the kids don’t bother you or nothin’, all you gotta do is ask. I’ll always make sure to make it work for you. Anything for you. You hear me?” she tells you.

“Loud and clear, Ms. Schemmenti,” you giggle as you give her a mock salute. “Hey, what were the kids working on when I came in?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Melissa tries to dismiss your question. “You’ll figure it out by the end of the day.”

The rest of your lunch period passes as it usually does. The two of you talk about everything, even in just twenty five minutes.

“Alright, hon,” Melissa stands and zips her jacket. “I’ll be out in the recess yard. You do whatever you gotta do, yeah?”

“You really don’t have to cover my recess-”

“I don’t have to, but I want to,” she lays a hand on your shoulder and squeezes gently. “Let me do this for you.”

You nod. “Thanks, Mel.”

By the end of the day, your students haven’t bothered you once. Melissa has taken charge of the entire day, even changing plans around so she could teach both classes at the same time and monitor their independent work time simultaneously. You’re sitting in the back, eyes barely open as you type up the last of your paper. God, you’re exhausted. You can’t wait to go home and-

“Ms. Y/N,” Melissa singsongs. She taps your shoulder, and- How’d she even get next to you? And why are the kids lined up in front of you?

“Ms. Schemmenti?”

“Today, during snack time we figured we could use our time to make you cards to show how much we care for our favorite classroom aide,” the redhead says sweetly. “Isn’t that right, my little eagles?”

They all nod enthusiastically. One by one, they hand you different drawings, pictures, words, poems... everything so that you know how much you mean to them. With each paper you’re gifted with, you also get a hug.

Melissa is the last one in line, and she hands you a paper folded neatly. You open it and glance over what she had written. She just tells you how grateful she is for everything you’ve done, and how thrilled she is that you’ve decided to stick around.

It’s short, it’s sweet, it’s perfect. It’s so Melissa.

“Thank you, Ms. Schemmenti,” you breathe out as you wipe at your tears. “Wow. Thank you guys!”

“We love you, Ms. Y/N!” the class exclaims.

“And I love you guys,” you laugh through the last of your tears. “Thank you.”

A few minutes later, the bell rings, and all chaos breaks loose as the kids head out. You and the redhead are packing up the last of your things when you hear her sigh.

“So... what do you say you come over to my place tonight, and I make ya dinner while you finish up your paper and then relax? Make your life a little easier.”

“You already fed me one meal today and made my life easier,” you laugh as you sling your bag over your shoulder.

“What’s one more?” she shrugs. “Offer’s on the table, and I make one mean risotto.”

“Alright, Mel,” you sigh in good nature. “But I’m bringing wine.”

“Grab something good.”

---

The redhead and you walk into Ava’s office together a month and a half later.

“I knew it,” she celebrates quietly. She then leans into the PA system. “Attention, Mr. Johnson: You lost! Fool!”

She opens her drawer and pulls out the forms for HR.

She’s already filled out most of it with a sparkly pink pen- all you two have to do is sign the bottom to recognize that the two of you are in a workplace relationship.

“Ava!” you exclaim as you look over them.

“I told you it was only a matter of time,” she says with a smug look on her face.

You hate to admit it, but Ava was right.

#abbott elementary #abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary fanfiction #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x reader

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celestialprincesse · 4 months

Note

licherally love your writing so much 😭💖 ghost with an s/o or friend who is strong/big enough to pick him up over their shoulder when he is badly injured? i cannot stop thinking about it 😭 like it’s probably impossible but like GAHHHH

i can just picture he’s fading in and out of consciousness then s/o / friend just like “up and at ‘em” and hauls him over their shoulder. he didn’t think it would bother him but once he is like NOT actively about to pass out from some kind of injury, he is all like “*oh????* **OH?????**”

idk if u or anyone else would appreciate this idea but i had to get it out of my system 😭

-❄️

I fear I may be the bearer of bad news here this man is 6'4 and 200lbs🙃 BUT I aim to please and will therefore do my best🫶

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

"You've got to be shitting me." You scoff, looking down at Simon, who currently lays prone and injured in the dirt, your current training manoeuvre having gone terribly wrong.

With your already heavy medkit slung over one shoulder, rifle over the other, and your behemoth of a lieutenant at your feet, the situation really isn't ideal. Not to mention the fact that there's no one around to help, and he doesn't look like he'll be getting anywhere on his own any time soon.

"Bravo Four for backup, Over." You mumble into your radio, silently praying that someone will pick up the signal and give you a hand in getting Simon out of the direct line of fire. A few moments pass with no response. You're very much on your own, and frustrated at the thought. Why did the one time he got hit have to be when you're the only one around to help?

Shimmying beside Simon's bulk, you huff out a slightly strained "Right, up you get" hoisting his arm over your shoulders and trying to stand the both of you upright whilst putting the least possible strain on his injury, which, from the nasty snap you heard just moments ago, you're assuming is some kind of pulled ligament, hopefully not torn.

You'd fortunately had the foresight to supply some reasonably strong painkillers when he'd gone down, enough to stave off the brunt of the pain until you have a chance to look at his wound properly. Also, perhaps a little selfishly, to get him to shut up and stop trying to convince both you, and himself, that he's fine.

It's impossible not to feel some small sense of pride at Simon's clear surprise, having not considered that you'd actually be able to take most of his weight as he limply shuffles alongside you, clinging to your jacket in order to stay upright. "I got it." He slurs, painkillers making everything a little less sharp, still conscious, just less alert than he'd usually be.

"We're all good, just gotta keep moving." You huff back, not letting him protest. You don't have time to argue, nor, frankly, the breath to do so.

"You've been working out." He tries to joke, although his words come out as more of a pained wheeze than the appreciative sarcasm he'd been hoping for.

"Mm. Glad it's paying off."

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

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random-imagines-blog · 11 months

Text

Imagine being more of a sleeper, while Lestat is an ‘up and at em’ kind of fellow.

The knocking on your coffin lid was getting harder to ignore. You shuffled around inside, laying it in upside down, face right in the silk interior but you could still hear it. Goddamn Lestat. You had never met a more inpatient man in all your life.

With annoyance in your tone, you turned back around and pushed the top open, making the blonde vampire step back. He covered up his startled expression quickly, putting on something more smug, like he had expected you to react that way this entire time. “Good, you’re awake, let’s go out.”

“Is the sun even down yet? It’s so early,” You groaned, looking towards the windows, seeing if there was even the faintest bit of light trying to shine through. “Just go without me, please,” You mumbled and then lowered yourself back down, preparing to go back into your resting mode.

“No, no, no, no, no,” Lestat said, slipping his hand between the coffin lid and the bulk, preventing you from closing it all of the way. He gave you that charming grin, knowing that it would work on you - as long as you opened your eyes, which you were vehemently opposed to doing. “Come on, let’s go out, the city is waiting for us - the musicians are playing, the blood is flowing, can’t you feel the pounding of the city’s heart?”

“Nope, I just hear my pillow screaming for me to come back,” You said, sleepily, hoping for a moment that it would work, that Lestat would leave you alone - but like an overbearing father on a school day, he took your arms and lifted you out of your bed, your coffin, and stood you next to him. You yawned and he grinned at you, looking at the sharpness of your fangs as your mouth was open.

“Come, some warm blood will wake you up at no time, energize your senses,” He coaxed, walking backwards towards the staircase. You followed, smacking your lips, rubbing the back of your neck, trying to wake up. “All you need to get dressed, and we’ll get you fed, my dear.”

“Only because I’m hungry,” You said, holding the railing tightly and ascending to your dressing room. “Not because I want to go out with you.”

Lestat chuckled, posing at the bottom of the stairs. “We both know that’s a lie, y/n.”

Unfortunately - it was true, but you also knew once your sleepiness passed and you got your first taste of blood for the night, the two of you would be enjoying the night out on the town, and you would rue the moment you had to go back into your coffin.

Requested by: Anonymous

#Lestat #Lestat x reader #Lestat imagines #Interview with the Vampire #Interview with the Vampire imagines #imagines #request #Lestat De Lioncourt

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tinydefector · 5 months

Note

Hello!!!

May I request a fem s/o who's currently in ovulation and mtmte cyclonus sensing this and just wants to breed s/o

MINE

Info: Guys, I don't write fem, so if I get request for fem they are going to be written gender neutral. Please make sure to read my rules beforehand. If you don't state for the reader to be cybertronian, I write them as human as default.

Cyclonus x human Reader

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: smut, fingering, oral, sex, breeding kink, #Valveplug

Cyclonus masterlist

__________________________

Cyclonus could smell it on their skin, the chance in their hormones, it had become something he was rather aware of over the time he had been with them. afterall humans emitted phenomenons that were rather potent, and it is driving him mad.

His sensors detected the change days ago but each day their scent had just gotten sweeter as the pheromones permeating his lover's flesh grew richer. He could no longer ignore it.

His optics linger on then across the room as they entertain themself with one of the hobbies they are rather fond of. He clenched his dentas in frustration, Cyclonus is a mech of great resilience and patience but this, this was going to send his coding up the wall.

Reason finally snapped when strong arms curled around their waist, hot ventilations gusting whispered pleas against the back of their neck. His engine roared to life as old world coding surged forth in a torrent, demanding satiation through their offered flesh alone.

Turning slowly this chuckle softly. “Hello Handsome, what can I do for you?” They hum within his embrace, Cyclonus lets out an almost snarl like vent, vying for control against swelling passions and desire to claim them right there. Lips met in a crushing, bruising kiss as his talons gripped hips tight. Soft gasp leave their lips against his, head lent back so they could continue kissing him.

Drawing back, Cyclonus uttered one low command. "Bed. Now."

Their eyes go wide over the suddenness of it but are quick to follow his instructions. "Clo what's wrong?" They ask slightly worried, they hadn't seen him, likely this, last time he looked ready to rip something apart was after another scuffle with Whirl.

Cyclonus loomed over the bed optics drinking in their form as they stood there watching him. His engines growled low in mounting need.

“Nothing is wrong," he rasped, talons tracing their form with impossible care. He had always been rather careful and gentle with them, afraid he could break them easily with just the wrong move, over time he learnt they enjoyed the pain too. Each pass tingled their flesh with charged pleasure-pain sure to leave marks that would last solar cycles.

" Your coding demands satisfaction" He pauses for a moment watching and waiting for their reaction. "And I intend to provide," Cyclonus purred, moving onto the berth as he pressed a servo onto their stomach pushing them down onto the softer part of the bed, climbing over their prone body. His olfactories drank in heady perfumes of their arousal, despite Cyclonus being a being of metal their scent clung to his frame.

Lowering his bulk, Cyclonus nipped a sharp line down their throat. "Your scent is driving me mad little love." His plating demanded his ‘mate’, and he intended to reap his reward. “I can smell your arousal seeping through your skin, it's Intoxicating” he mumbles against their throat.

His servos work swiftly discarding their pants, as the scent hits him more he kisses his way down their body. They let out a loud yelp when he discards their pants. "You can smell me!?!" They were almost shocked, didn't even know it was something Cybertronian’s could do. Their back arches as Cyclonus' Glossa eagerly laps at their sex.

Cyclonus rumbled approval against quivering flesh, talons parting their thighs running his glossa's full length in one heady lave. His lover keened helplessly at the intimate invasion,

"Of course I can smell you," he crooned, his lips seal around them gently sucking, and dragging more moans from their lips as one of their legs rested over his shoulder plating.

"Your rich scent screams for a mate, begging to be seeded." Another skilled flick wrung breathless cries from lungs near to bursting. "And I intend to fill you past overflowing, mark you thoroughly, since you seem so eager."

Revving his powerful engines provided vibration another layer of maddening pleasure His glossa ravaged their sex with single-minded focus, them. Only when reduced to a sobbing wreck did he grant brief respite. Pulling away to admire their stunning form.

talons tracing down to their tight entertain, teasingly pressing in and out stretching them and preparing them for himself. Their heads hit the berth as a hand comes up to cover their mouth, legs spread wider for Cyclonus. "Fuck, oh my God, Cyclonus" they yelp as he grips their hips holding them stead so he can driving his glossa into them along with his digits. Their other hand grip one of his horns to steady themself as they rock against him.

Cyclonus growled in approval against flushed flesh, engines revving like thunder at their moans. Never had submission so thoroughly captivated him - their writhing form clinging to his plating, he glimpsed all that he and his race had lost since Cybertron's fall, and how he relished having them under his form.

His glossa delved deeper, curling talismanic strokes along pulsing inner walls. Their ragged moans stirred coding that had never stirred within him before, the hellbent need to breed them.

They choke out on needy cries as their orgasm struck in shattering waves, rolling their hips to meet his mouth. Once satisfied he drew back,loomed over their limp form glistening with aftermath, optics afire as he studied the heavy breaths their heave in. His spike pressurised, merciless heat radiates from his body against delicate thigh.

"You are mine ," Cyclonus rasped, nipping sharp approval upon kiss-bruised lips.

They lay there, tears of pleasure slowly running down their cheek, legs twitching as Cyclonus releases his Interface panel letting his spike pressurised, teasingly pressing it against their much smaller form.

He rumbled deep in approval at their limp, ravished state "So willing and eager," he praised, nipping fierce approval upon kiss-swollen lips. His spikehead teased their lubricant slicken entrance with torturous circular rolls.

"Only you could stir my coding so, teasing me like this" Cyclonus rasped, increasing pressure just shy of breaching weeping limits. Gripping their hips in an unyielding vise, Cyclonus peered down at them. “you would rather stunning with my sparkling, little love” he presses in slowly, sheathing his length to hilt in a few deep thrusts.

They moan out loudly as Cyclonus sinks into them, clinging onto him, fingers digging into ridges of his armour for stability. "Fuck, fuck!" They gasp out, eyes shut in pleasure. "Sy," they whine.

Cyclonus growled into their shoulder, Talons gripped their flesh in punishing vice, determined to mark them until they bore his branding. His powerful frame began pistoning deep, slow thrusts. "Mine," he snarled against kiss-bruised lips, increasing the tempo of grinding pumps as transfluid steadily flowed into their smaller body.

Their willing flesh was his to claim without restraint, his to breed. And he intended on that, it mattered not to him that humans and cybertronian’s DNA and Cybertronian nanite, coding and protoplasm won't mingle. He was hellbent on breeding his human, and they were eager for him. He craved to see them round with a sparkling, to feel the pulse of their spark, to feel their field and they grow in his human. Never before had he craved to spark someone as he did his lover.

Sinful moans fall from their lips as transfluid drips from them as Cyclonus continues thrusting into them. They clench around him each time he thrust deeper, driving the bright pink fluid further into their willing form. "Cy, Cy! Fuck, fuck please so good so good!" They call out into his plating.

"Mine, mate, my little love" he purrs out, the loud rumble against their body makes them clench even harder. His grip is unrelenting upon their waist ploughing into them steadily against the berth. His spike flared within weeping walls, pulsing transfluid poured possession upon deepest recesses of their body.

"You were made solely for this," Cyclonus growled, increasing brutal tempo sure to grind fragile flesh to rapture's shining edge. When they are struck in shattering waves of their next orgasm, he drinks in their keening cries, intent on searing his brand upon their body.

They shuddered through aftershocks' radiance, his spike continued pulsing torrents meant to swell their much smaller form beyond capacity. his very coding, yearning for a small hope that they may at some point gift him a new spark. Whines spill from their lips as they go limp on the berth. Their abdomen bulged with his spike and fluid, they look stunning. Bright pink transfluid leaks onto the bed. They look thoroughly fucked. They clench around him desperately as he grinds into them trying to rut his fluid deeper. Soft little keens come from them as they cling to Cyclonus.

"My little light, my little love," Cyclonus rumbled, field swelled, he cradles their quivering frame. looming over their sticky, limp form painted inside and out with evidence of him.

They lay there intertwined with his much larger form, Panting. "So are we going to talk about it?" They ask softly. fingers dancing along his plating. Cyclonus rumbled low in approval at how they looked, massaging tender flesh. "There is nothing to discuss," he replied gruffly, though palming their swelling abdomen with unexpected care. His coding pleading that the seeds taking hold within his little lover.

"You are mine to claim, your body called out for me and I provided." His engine rumbled deeply. "Cy baby I love you dearly but, you can literally smell me!, omg have you been able to smell me when I get aroused?" They are rather embarrassed over the new information. Cyclonus huffed an impatient ventilation, grip tightening faintly on their pliant form pressing deeper into them making sure they didn't part.

"Of course I can discern your body's tells," he grated, thumbing their swollen belly with newfound gentleness. "As all sensors can detect subtle changes auguring fertility in potential carriers/sires." He presses a gentle kiss to their forehead, pulling away and exposing clenched denta in feral smirk. "Your aroused state demanded satisfaction I could no longer deny." Taloned digits trailed up their frame, Crimson optics seared into wavering gaze. "Does this truly trouble you?" Cyclonus nuzzled closer kissing quivering lips with uncommon affection.

" can everyone else smell me?" They ask in a whisper softly before the look of horror crosses their face. "Oh God, can they all smell us right now?!" They nearly squeal as he presses his hips more flush against theirs, they lean into his touch head rested against his chassis.

Cyclonus chuckled deeply at their fluster, massaging skin writhe against his ample frame with slow assurance. "Lower your voice, my little light," he rumbled, optical ridges creasing in a rare approximation of humour. Crimson optics shimmered with banked passions barely leashed once more.

"While our scents may linger, the others are very much aware you are my conjunx '' Cyclonus assured, engines purred as he nuzzled feverish skin with surprising care,

"And should you demand further... satisfaction," he rumbled, gripping their willing form flush to pulsing arrays. "Only this room's walls will bare witness” he teases lightly.

#transformers #transformers x reader #transformers x human #transformers idw #transformers lost light #valveplug #transformers cyclonus #cyclonus #Cyclonus x reader #Cyclonus idw #mtmte cyclonus #idw transformers #tf idw #mtmte transformers #tf mtmte

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rd0265667 · 16 days

Text

Minji x Reader: Mercy, The Fool's Errand

TW!: Warning, there is quite alot of Violence and a slight bit of Gore(but there will be a TW before hand) A/N: Trying a more action oriented fic with Spiderwoman Minji, maybe will spring into something more 👀 Permanent Taglist: @cwpiqwon @justme-idle

Dropping down silently, Spider Woman landed behind a thug who was struggling to light a cigarette. Before the thug could react, Spiderwoman snatched the cigarette away, punching the thug in the gut. As he yelped in pain, she lit the cigarette, tossing it into his mouth, before webbing his mouth shut

“Didn’t your mom ever tell you smoking kills? Lucky for you, I’m way more effective than lung cancer. And a sucker for irony too.” Seeing more thugs, Spiderwoman webbed this thug up, swinging him and throwing him at the incoming thug. Jumping at the nearest thug, Spiderwoman webbed his mouth shut and gave him a quick uppercut, sending him sprawling into a pile of crates. The commotion caught the attention of two nearby thugs, who turned around, guns drawn. Spiderwoman launched herself at them, twisting mid-air to avoid their shots. She landed between them, delivered a rapid-fire punch to the first thug's gut, then spun around and kicked the second thug in the chest.

“I don’t get it—do you guys buy bullets in bulk? Costco membership? And seriously, where’s your safety training? Is there even safety on this gun?” Spiderwoman asked, before smacking him across the face with the butt of the rifle

The other thug staggers up, reaching for a knife. Spiderwoman webs the knife to her hand, tossing it straight into his chest. “Knife to meet you! Ha, I’ve been dying to use that one. Okay, technically I’m not the one dying, you are, but yada yada, spare me the semantics”

Another thug tried to surprise her from behind, swinging a crowbar. Spiderwoman ducked, then flipped backward, landing on the thug’s shoulders. Wrapping her arms around the thug, she jumped up, smashing his head into the ground as his neck jerked with a sickening crunch

“Crowbars? That’s cute. Didn’t know I was fighting a gang of Home Depot employees. You guys got discounts on those, or…? Meh, I don’t think dead employees get discounts. Oh well.”

SpiderWoman noticed a group of thugs at the far end of the warehouse, raising their guns. She shot a web at a nearby crate and swung it into them, knocking them down like bowling pins.

“Strike! And the crowd goes wild! Well, not really. But hey, you should see my high score at the arcade.”

As Spider woman landed, a thug swung a chain at her. She caught the chain mid-swing, yanked the thug forward, and clotheslined him.

“You know, I read somewhere that chainmail is making a comeback. But you, my friend, are not pulling it off.”

A thug sneaks up behind her, swinging a bat. Spiderwoman’s spider-sense tingles, and she ducks just in time. She webs the thug’s feet to the floor and yanks the bat out of his hands, twirling it like a baton.

“Batter up! Or should I say, ‘batter down’? No? Wow, tough crowd. Maybe I should stick to knock-knock jokes.”

She swings the bat, cracking it against the thug’s head, sending him spinning. The thug drops, twitching. Spiderwoman exaggeratedly raises her hand, running around the spot like a baseball game “And the crowd goes wild! Okay, nobody’s awake…or alive, but still. I’m a hit!”

Another thug tried to charge him with a bat. Spiderwoman sidestepped, grabbed the bat, and broke it over her knee, using the broken pieces to jab the thug in the shoulders, before a last one right in the stomach.

“Another goddamn bat? Really? What is this, amateur night? I’m expecting Joker to pop out and tell me this was all a prank.”

The last thug was backing away, visibly trembling, his gun shaking in his hands. Spiderwoman took a step forward, then another, until she was right in the thug’s face.

“Relax, man, I’m not gonna kill all of you. You, I’ll probably just ruin your evening. And maybe your dental work.”

Before the thug could respond, Spiderwoman webbed his gun to the ceiling and delivered a quick jab to the thug's stomach,followed by a punch to the face, the impact causing a crack in the ground Seeing the last thug left in the warehouse, Spiderwoman swung over, landing on the boxes next to the thug “I surrender, Don’t kill me!” The thug shouted out, dropping her gun to the ground. “Alright, but only if I get to tell you a joke.” Spiderwoman quips, twirling around a karambit she had found. “Okay!” The thug responded excitedly, relieved to have a way out. “Knock knock.” Spiderwoman started “Who’s there?” “Death.” Spiderwoman deadpanned “Death whrrg.” The thug began, before Spiderwoman dropped down, swiping the karambit across the thug's neck as she dropped to the ground, holding her neck as blood spurted wildly from the wound. “God I love Rowan Atkinson.” Spiderwoman chuckled to herself

“You know, I’d love to stay and chat, but I’ve got a hot date. And maybe some takeout. Do bad guys even eat? I mean, it’s like you’re always here, doing the crime thing. You must have terrible Yelp reviews.”

Spiderwoman started walking toward the exit, then paused, looking back over his shoulder.

“By the way, if you’re thinking of sending more guys after me, here’s a tip: maybe hire a better interior decorator. This warehouse looks like the set of every bad action movie ever. Seriously, a potted plant wouldn’t kill you.”

She shot a web, swinging up into the rafters and disappearing into the shadows, leaving behind a warehouse full of groaning thugs and shattered crates.

As she swung away into the night, she muttered to herself, “I should really charge for this. Hero work, witty banter, interior design tips… Talk about multi-tasking.”

Her swing back to the rooftop was an uneventful one, thankfully. You were gonna kill her if you were late again, and she didn’t want to deal with that today. With a final swing, Minji soared into the air, landing with a final forward roll, jogging into the small shed at the rooftop. As she rushed into the shed, she smirked, leaning on the doorframe. “Just in time.” Minji said with a chuckle. Your eyes narrowed, staring at Minji, before shaking your head with a small sigh. “You’re cutting it close Kim. And to think I made your favourite for tonight.” “Ice cream?” Minji’s smile spread wide across her face. “Yep, mint chocolate.” You teased, Minji’s face dropping in horror. “You might be the worst person I’ve ever met. And I’ve literally met every villain in this city.” Minji said in horror “I’m kidding, its that cheesecake flavour you told me you liked that once.” You rolled your eyes, seeing Minji’s eyes widen, sparkling with excitement. “So what’s the special occasion? You even broke out the ice cream maker Auntie bought in that one garage sale?” Minji asked as she dug into the ice cream as if it was about to disappear. “If I recall, that was the garage sale you were supposed to help out in, but disappeared. Ahma was so pissed at you.” You jabbed with a chuckle, Minji wincing as she remembered those piercing, disappointed eyes that seemed to eat at her soul. Ghost Rider could never. “Not answering the question honey.” Minji teased, once again digging back into the bowl of ice cream before her. “I wanted to talk to you about reinstating your no kill rule.” You sat next to Minji, putting her hand in yours. “Nope.” Minji quickly replied, continuing to dig into the ice cream as if you had not said a word Taken aback, you quickly snatched the bowl away from Ice Cream away from Minji. You were well aware that if she wanted to, you couldn’t have taken that bowl from her if your life depended on it, but at least this proved she was listening. Somewhat at least. “I’m serious.” You gripped Minji’s hand tighter, trying to look her in the eyes “Ralph Dibny. Caitlin Luz. Joseph Wiegand. Corey Steele. Rachel Ong. 5 Dead, 236 people injured.” Minji stared at you dead in the eye. Your grip softened, you knew those names, you knew those numbers. The casualty report from the Goblin’s last attack, “If I had put the Goblin down the first time she tried anything, they would still be here. Rachel…She would still be here.” Minji seethed in rage. “Kim Minjeong.” You rebutted. “What about her?” Minji asked, clearly irritated at this line of questioning. “You fought her at Silph Labs a month ago, when she tried to steal some tech prototype.” “And?” You walked over to the computer, all it took was some typing to pull up some articles. “Have you heard of this new hero in Moapa Valley? Winter Flare? That’s Kim Minjeong.” You brought up a new message tab of communication. “I’ve been in contact with Crimson Banshee, the vigilante at Moapa Valley. She figured out what Minjeong was using that prototype for.” You took a small brown file, handing it to Minji, who looked at the file in apprehension. “Open it.” You nudged, Minji sighing before opening the file. “Her name is Yu Jimin. She was suffering from a rare genetic disease, and it was fatal. That prototype was the only thing that could save Jimin, and it did. A few days ago, the prototype was found in the office, frozen in a block of ice, and now, Moapa has a new protector.” “Your point?” Minji asked, going back to the couch.

“Some of them deserve a second chance. Not all of them, of course. The Goblin, The Chuuker, the mass murderers, the monsters, put them in the ground. I have no moral argument about that. But some of them deserve at least a shot at redemption. Like Minjeong. Good people, forced by circumstance to do bad things. That doesn’t make them villains, they’re just desperate, lost. You’re a hero, Minji, children look up to Spiderwoman everyday, but parents are afraid, Minji. They don’t want their kids to think murder is the first answer to everything. Just killing them may seem like it’s the right way out, but it’s just the easy way out. Some of these people deserve a second chance, a shot at redemption, but if they choose to turn bad again, you’ll be there to stop them again, my amazing spiderwoman.” You placed your hand on her cheek, attempting to reassure her. “But what if they change, attack again, and I can’t stop them? The lives that they’ll take, they’re on me.” Minji’s tone lowered, hands trembling as fear overcame her. “I know it’s difficult, baby, but killing isn’t the answer. It’s chipping away at your soul. Please. Think about it?” You pleaded, to which Minji nodded. “Now, I believe I promised you movie night. So what movie shall it be?” You asked, cuddling into Minji on the couch, remote in your hand as you turned on the TV. “Well, I’d say Lilo and Stitch, but I’m not paying fucking 13 bucks a month Disney.” Minji said, turning to look into what was seemingly thin air. “Who are you talking to this time?” You asked amusedly, not new to Minji’s antics “Let’s just watch the Titanic for the 20th thousand time.” Minji said, causing you to giggle. “It’s a good movie, and I expect a little more leeway with movie selection after I spent the whole day after class churning your goddamn cheesecake ice cream.” You playfully rolled your eyes, causing Minji to roll her eyes in mocking response, before pulling you in for a cuddle. “Jack would have fit on that goddamn door by the way.”

Spiderwoman clings to a steel beam high above the construction site, her eyes scanning the ground below. She had heard chatters of a new self proclaimed Genius Villain in town. Smartest in the world. “How many Smartest people in the world are there? It’s like how many first Baptist churches I see around this city. Like, one of them got to actually be first right?” Spiderwoman grabbed the screen, pulling it toward her mouth like a mic to talk to the people on the other side. “Okay okay, this is what you readers came here for. It’s showtime, grab your popcorn, turn off that music you’re playing in the background. Shits about to get real.” Spiderwoman lets go off the screen, pushing it back into the air, before cracking her knuckles

“Alright, Scipio,” Spiderwoman calls out, her voice echoing through the empty site. “Time to settle the score. And before you ask, no, I don’t have a coupon for this ass-kicking, so you’re gonna have to take it full price.”

A shadow moves in the darkness below, and Scipio steps into the light. He’s dressed in tactical gear, his posture calm and ready. A rope dart, its metal tip glinting ominously, coils in his hand.

“Nice rope dart! I guess you’re planning to make me your personal piñata. Hope you brought enough candy for the both of us!” Spiderwoman quips, assessing the threat before her

“You’ve been busy, Spiderwoman,” Scipio says, his voice smooth. “But tonight, I’m going to show you that brains can beat brawn.”

Spiderwoman drops from the beam, flipping gracefully in mid-air before landing softly on the ground. She bounces lightly on the balls of her feet, adopting a fighting stance “Brains, huh? Let’s see how smart you feel when you’re wrapped up like a mummy in webs.”

Without warning, Scipio whips the rope dart toward her, the tip slicing through the air with a deadly hiss. Spiderwoman reacts instantly, firing a webline to a nearby beam and yanking herself out of its path. She swings in a wide arc, twisting her body to deliver a flying kick to Scipio’s head. He ducks just in time, but she’s already flipping over him, landing lightly on the other side.

“Cheap Shot Buster! But you’re gonna have to be quicker than that!” she taunts, shooting another webline to a distant crane and pulling herself upward. She swings from the web, her body swaying slightly as she observes him from above. “And try not to get dizzy from all this swinging around. I know it can be a lot to handle. I’ve got a good pharmacy guy if you need him.”

Scipio doesn’t waste any time. He snaps the rope dart back, the metal tip whipping around his body as he takes aim. Spiderwoman swings toward him, her body twisting mid-air as she dodges the dart again, using a webline to redirect herself upward. She lands on a high beam, crouched and ready.

“Nice toy you got there,” she quips, firing a web to a nearby scaffold and using it to slingshot herself downward. “But mine’s better.” She somersaults through the air, aiming to land a kick on Scipio’s chest. But he’s prepared—he spins the rope dart around him, creating a whirling barrier that she narrowly avoids.

“Looks like you’re dancing with danger!” she shouts, using her webs to dodge and weave through the air. “I hope you’ve been taking dance lessons.”

Scipio growls in frustration and charges, his rope dart whipping through the air with deadly precision. Spiderwoman spins away, flipping into the air and firing webs to keep him off balance. She catches the dart mid-air and spins it around her hand, using it as a makeshift weapon to parry his next attack.

“Whoa, you’re really sticking to your guns—literally!” she jokes, a barrel role to narrowly dodge the rope dart. “But I’m afraid your aim is a little off. Better luck next time!”

Scipio narrows his eyes, clearly annoyed. He lunges at her with a series of rapid, precise strikes, but she dodges and counters, her movements a blur of agility and acrobatics. With a flourish, Scipio sends the rope dart with astonishing speed, though Spiderwoman was able to narrowly dodge, allowing the rope dart to twirl around her, sending it back at Scipio, causing him to duck, knocking him off his balance

“You’re like a cat in a laser pointer shop,” Spiderwoman quips, spinning around to land a kick to his ribs. “Always swatting at things you can’t quite catch!”

Scipio stumbles, but he catches himself, spinning around to deliver a backhand that Spiderwoman barely dodges. She retaliates with a series of punches, but Scipio blocks most of them, using her momentum against her to throw her off balance, one gap in her attack all he needed to knock her back.

Spiderwoman lands lightly on her feet, her breath coming in quick bursts. This guy is good—really good. But she’s not done yet. Not by a long shot. “Oh you’re good. As the shitheads on Mobile Legends say, Music.” Spiderwoman says, quickly followed by two quick claps, before lunging back at Scipio

She fires a web at a steel beam, yanking herself into the air. Scipio follows, leaping after her with lightning quick agility. But Spiderwoman has the advantage here—she swings from beam to beam, her experience of fighting mid swing proving advantageous as she dodged, bobbed, and parried everything Scipio tried to throw at her

“Catch me if you can!” she shouts, twisting mid-air to avoid a punch and landing a spinning kick to his head. “Or, you know, keep missing and I’ll just keep making jokes. Your call!”

Scipio reels from the kick, but he recovers quickly, grabbing her leg and pulling her down to the ground with him. They hit the concrete hard, but Spiderwoman uses the momentum to roll away, springing back to her feet. She fires a web to a nearby crane and pulls herself up, swinging in a wide arc before dropping down on Scipio from above. He raises his arms to block, but she’s too fast—she lands a solid punch to his jaw, followed by a kick to his chest that sends him crashing into a pile of rubble.

Scipio groans, struggling to get back to his feet. But Spiderwoman is already moving, her webs snapping out to wrap around his arms and legs. She yanks him off the ground, swinging him in a wide arc before slamming him into a steel beam. The impact reverberates through the site, and Scipio collapses to the ground, dazed.

Spiderwoman lands lightly beside him, breathing hard. Her fists clench and unclench as she stares down at him, her mind racing. She could end it all right now—just one more hit, and he’d be done for. “Go ahead. I’ve heard all about this before. Spiderwoman, the penumbra of this city. End me.” Scipio said, out of breath “Shut up.” Spiderwoman sighs. You were right. There was a better way to do this. With a shake of the head, Spiderwoman turns to walk away. “You’re letting me go?” Scipio questioned

Spiderwoman gazes down at him, her expression unreadable. “Because someone believes there is a better way to do things,” she says quietly. “And I’m starting to believe it too.”

She webs him to the ground, ensuring he won’t be going anywhere until the authorities arrive. “Don’t feel so smart now, do you, genius?” As she prepares to swing away, she looks back at him one last time, her voice hardening.

“Consider yourself lucky,” she says, her tone cold. “This is your one chance, repent, use that big brain for the good of society. But this is a warning, if I ever see you again, I won’t be making any more promises. And next time, bring more than just a rope dart.”

In the wreckage of the construction site, Scipio laid there, groaning in pain, though a small smile on his face. The fight might have been lost, but the war had just begun. It was not a war he anticipated being alive to see, but he wasn’t complaining. As the dot blinked on the screen on his wrist, Scipio smirked. Revenge would be swift, precise, fiery.

Exhausted, Minji walked into the shed. “How’d it go?” You asked, tossing her her usual isotonic drink. “I did it. New Guy in town, Scipio. I think he just wanted to test his skill against mine. He’s smart, and he’s good. Really good. Hopefully he uses the second chance wisely.” Minji said, leaning into the back hug you had thrown her into. “I’m proud of you.” You said, ruffling her hair as Minji smiled. “Alright, I’m going down to the chemistry labs to make some more web fluid.” Minji said, yawning as she tossed her suit to a corner, dressing down into a more comfortable jumpsuit. “Alright, I’ll do some research on Scipio while you’re gone, then maybe we'll go for supper?” You asked “You read my mind bro.” Minji chuckled, walking to you at your chair, leaving a small kiss on your forehead, before heading down the building to the chemistry lab.

Minji hummed a soft tune as she mixed the chemicals she needed. It was a slow process, but after so much time spent crime fighting, this time spent had become more or less a routine for her. She leaned back on her stool, allowing her mind to drift as she swirled the beaker in her hand. As she swirled it, however, she suddenly had a heavy feeling in her chest, the same feeling when her spidey senses go into overdrive. “Damn, I’ve been working too hard, maybe some chimichangas later.” Minji joked to herself, but as she swirled the beaker, she could not shake the horrible feeling. Now slightly wary, Minji got up from her seat, looking around the lab. “Alright, Monster in the closet, the Sonic CGI before we told Paramount they could go fuck themselves. Come out, come out wherever you are.” Minji called out, only to be met with silence, before hearing a deafening scream. Minji’s face paled. She bolted out of the lab, going as fast as her legs could take her, running up the stairs, only to recoil in horror as she saw the shed in flames. “Y/N!” She screamed out, hoping to find you amidst the rubble. Jumping into the shed, looking around, frantically looking for you. Seeing your hand sticking out amidst the dust, she jumped in, picking you up in a fireman’s carry, before running out from the shed. “Hey, babe, it’s okay, you’re safe now.” Minji whispers to you, holding you tight against her chest. “Babe?” Minji whispered, realising that you were unreactive. She placed a finger to your neck, her trembling hands realising you didn’t have a pulse. “No, No, No, Not again, this can’t be happening again.” Minji muttered under her breath Minji quickly tried CPR, her chest compressions growing more frantic as you remained unresponsive. Minji collapsed to the ground, breathing heavily as she fell back in horror. Looking to her hand, she quickly vibrated her hand, seeing small blue sparks of electricity forming on her hand. A power that she had found not too long ago, and your last hope. With trembling hands, Minji placed her hand on your chest, causing your body to jolt up in the air, but you remained unconscious. The sounds of sirens quickly flooded the area, the alarm clearly having been tripped by the fire. As the medics rushed the area, Minji let the paramedics around your body. After some checks, Minji saw the medic look to her watch, confirming her worst fear. As Minji fell back to the ground, stunned as the paramedics wheeled you away, she noticed something in the corner. Her suit. She slowly walked over to it, noticing a small blinking red light you had not noticed before, accompanied by a note. “With regards from the New Rogues, and Scipio ~Inferno.” Minji’s fist tightened, sparks flying out from her fist.

“Where are they! You have 10 seconds to tell me, before I gouge your eyeballs out.” Minji screamed, punching the thug she had found, webbing him upside down. “I don’-” Before the thug could finish his sentence, Minji punched him in the face, his head thrashing through the cinder wall behind him, jaw agape. “You next. Tell me something I want to hear or your jaw won’t even stay on like that guy’s.” Minji threatened. “Okay, okay, I heard some chatter of some gathering in a warehouse downtown. Let me go, please, I don’t want any trouble.” He screamed out. Minji nodded, turning around. “Hey, mind letting us down genius?” The thug screamed out, before Minji webbed his mouth, before giving it a rough yank, Minji swinging away from the source of the screams, his jaw hanging over his nose.

Minji’s eyes darkened as she perched atop the warehouses. Seeing light from the warehouse next to this one, she swung over, seeing Scipio, beside him being 3 other costumed figures, one with his hands over Scipio, seemingly healing him from the injuries he had suffered prior. Minji jumped down from the warehouse, landing on her toes, walking slowly into the warehouse. The other 3 villains were shocked, crouching into fighting stances as they kept their eyes on Minji. Scipio, however, chuckled as he watched Minji walking in. “Like the gift, Spiderwoman? As you can see, I’ve brought a lot more than a rope dart this time. I present to you, my new rogues. That there is Specter, this here is Gaze, and my friend over there is Inferno, the one responsible for sending you your gift.” Scipio said, winding his rope dart around his arm. “What, cat got your tongue? No more quips anymore genius?” Scipio questioned, smirking, believing he had broken Minji’s spirit. He had broken something, though he was gonna wish he hadn’t “Answer the boss when he’s talking to you!” Specter shouted, deciding to bum rush Minji. In one fluid move, Minji webbed Specter in the forehead, harshly yanking it, causing him to hit the ground hard on his face. Minji walked up to Specter, palming his head and lifting him up by his head, staring dead at the 3 other villains.

TW! Slightly Gory

Without a word, Minji’s hands began to shoot off sparks, Specter’s body shaking in Minji’s hand, the current running through his head, his eyeballs popping from his head, hanging from his eyes like a pinata at a halloween party, and his body began to smell like burnt charcoal. “What the fuck!” Scipio shouted out in shock. Tossing the body to a side, Minji shot her webs upward, pulling down the only light source in the room, causing it to crash down around the 3 villains left, as they all jumped out of the way. Minji’s eyes burned with rage, the darkness her ally as she lunged into action

“Reaper to Wildcat, I’m at the warehouse, checking out the disturbance. I’ll report back in a short while.” The figure shrouded in a black cloak, a sickle in hand said into their comlink “Roger that Reaper. Be careful, we don’t know what happened in there.” Wildcat’s voice rang through the comms, though it was quickly snuffed out by a scream from inside the warehouse. The Reaper bolted in, seeing copious amounts of blood stains on the ground, the charred body of Specter laying on the ground, eyeballs all but disconnected, skin charred, his two legs seemingly having been torn off. “What in the world?” The reaper muttered under their breath, walking cautiously into the next room, only to stop in shock. The Reaper had seen alot in their crime fighting escapades, many many atrocities, but none came even close to this sight. “What have you done!” The reaper screamed out. In the middle of the room, crouched Minji, standing upon a web the shade of dark crimson red. But this web was not spun of silk, instead, the web was formed by a grotesque collaboration of limbs, ligaments, muscles, a crimson red web of anger and gore

“I did what I had to.” Minji coldly replied, standing up and jumping in front of the Reaper. “Where are the villains?” The reaper demanded to know. “Some here, some there, some on the ceiling. But alive. For now at least. I’ll finish up in a moment. I need the web to be complete, to send a message to the wannabe villains of the world.” Minji nonchalantly said, gesturing to the corner. In the corner laid 3 bodies of the villains, all in different states of being. Missing limbs, faces burned, clawed off, jaw ripped clean off. They all laid, screaming in agony.

(We good from here on) “You can’t do this!” The Reaper shouted out in horror. “Why not? These villains don’t understand logic. So I speak the only language they speak, violence, splayed out so undeniably in their face that they’d fucking shoot themselves in the stomach before daring to step out of their houses in their shitty spandex or their half cooked schemes. “And what if villains take notice and want to kill you to make a name for themselves?” The reaper demanded to know “Then I expand my web.” Minji said

“I thought you changed recently. I heard of your fight with Scipio. You went back to how it was before the Goblin killed Rachel. But that’s gone again? I had faith in you, convinced wildcat to give you time, that in time, you’d show mercy.” The reaper said, before Minji let out a shrill chuckle “Mercy? Mercy cost me Rachel. Mercy cost me my aunt and Uncle. Mercy cost me my friends, my family. Mercy’s an easy thing to preach, when everyone you love is a goddamn superhero, Reaper. Mercy sounds good, until it bites the hand that feeds like the ungrateful dog it is, the mercy extended to these subhuman animals. Mercy cost me….it cost me Y/N. They were my second chance, my happiness after so much time of anger and hatred, and Mercy took them away from me. Hah, Mercy, the fool's errand”

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