#but i always manage to make up for it by working for a ridiculous amount of time in a row

[jojotichakorn]

i started penning a post about how i always find it narratively unsatisfying when an arc ends with a conclusion the following arc breaks, regardless of how realistic the repetition of the same mistake might be, which is still true, but i actually want to talk about something else right now.

i feel like, at least at this stage, jack is in a position that is both generally unrealistic and untrue to the specific events of the series. 'jack and joker' has a clear focus on poverty and money and class issues, but it seems to treat jack in a very special way. he somehow manages to stand on the moral high ground above other characters. specifically, other poor characters. which is, first of all, a little ridiculous, since he was indeed a debt collector and, in fact, almost became the boss's son. and, second of all, is generally Not Great, because it does idolise the idea that if you "just try hard enough", you won't "allow" yourself to be backed into a corner and therefore won't have to do bad things.

now, don't get me wrong, i am not saying that our characters who have made mistakes are completely blameless. tattoo did shitty things (and hoy followed suit), safe did shitty things, hope frankly admitted to enjoying doing shitty things. however, if we zoom out a little, we will see that all these characters are in a situation that is inherently unfair to them. we have all of these poor people in immense amounts of debt and then we have this disgusting rich motherfucker whose entire wealth is literally based on making their lives as miserable and unfair as they are. and i think that, in this particular case, the series would have actually benefited from a dichotomy. don't get me wrong, i'm usually absolutely brimming with nuance and also asking "what lies outside of it?" but this shall be my exception. (though you could say that joke already brings some nuance to it - he is initially from a well-off family and he actively makes choices to the benefit of poor people, despite it resulting in him being ostracised from said family and its riches).

jack walks the line of being poor and managing not to do anything "too bad" like he is a fucking circus performer on a wire. and, don't get me wrong, he is genuinely a selfless character. he makes choices that a lot of other characters in the same circumstances wouldn't make. he remains in debt and continues working for the boss because he keeps trying to help people and pay off their debts first - that is admirable. however, he himself was already set up for more success than others. sure, being forced to become a debt collector isn't a walk in the park, but most other debtors didn't even have that choice. jack has to work for the boss in order to stay afloat - that is an undeniably hard task. the other people the boss collects debts from, however, have to come up with a lot of money out of thin air - that is not simply a hard task, that is an impossible one that is designed to trap them in the cycle of doing this impossible task forever. that being said, ultimately, jack is still poor. his own hamster wheel should be somewhere around the corner, that's always the case. this idea is where i wish they would have taken jack's arc.

from the moment when he refused to marry rose, there was no escape for him. finally, much like our other poor characters, he found himself stuck between a rock and a hard place. (and i think that it's very thematically appropriate for jack's particular "i can't do this anymore, i deserve to live a full life" sentiment to be connected to love, since he is, after all, a lead of a romance drama). he made the decision to say "no" and from that point on, he was completely and utterly fucked. because, realistically, that conversation that he had with the boss after refusing rose was insane. i don't know what he would have done to jack exactly, if that was a genuine conversation and there was no exchange of jack's freedom for the ring, but it would not have been anything good.

so i wish jack had to make the actual tough call there, instead of having joke save him all on his own (and later take the fall for it). and if it was, at least in some capacity, jack's decision to steal that ring, he would finally be placed in a situation where every other poor character already inevitably found themselves in. because the entire system is rigged against all of them and they are eventually always forced to do things that they should have never even had to consider in the first place. but they deserve better than living a life set up for them by evil rich people who literally live off of their suffering and they are allowed - no, at some point they simply have no choice but to - fight for a better life.

this, in my opinion, would have been a much more powerful message and - not to circle back to my personal preferences - would have also not left us with joke making the very same mistake that we decided we should never make again at the end of the previous arc.

[purinfelix]

just for the weekend ᯓᡣ𐭩.ᐟ - franco colapinto

summary: your teammate has an absolutely ridiculous plan to bring your team back from the dead - but it might be just crazy enough to work w/c: 5.5k + some smau style tweets warnings: a little angst, some uncomfortable touching/kissing since it's fake dating (not too bad but better safe than sorry), some miscommunication - just two idiots in love i fear

a/n: WOW it's finally here, fake dating is literally a guilty pleasure trope for me so i hope yall enjoy this HAHA - also sorry to Williams fans bc there's a lot of slander in this but trust its all for the plot <333 (also holy shit this is the longest fic I've ever written WOW)

"You're actually insane."

"Oh c'mon, at least think about it for a minute, it's perfect!"

You fold your arms over your chest and try your best to look uninterested in whatever it is your teammate has to say. The two of you had been racing together for a little over half a year now, and you had witnessed him make (at least in your opinion) a grand fool of himself. Flirting with interviewers, winking at cameras, having absolutely no filter during press conferences - but this, this was by far the craziest thing you had heard come out of his mouth.

"A fake relationship?"

"Ah ah ah," he tuts, jutting a finger in your face, "a media relationship, one that will draw the attention away from how crap we're doing and onto the personalities of the team. Think about it, McLaren has whatever Oscar and Lando have got going on and Ferrari basically has two models for drivers. We need something to put us on the map, to make people care about us!"

You pause, and for a minute you seriously consider his outrageous proposition - he isn't completely wrong. For the two of you, making it into the points range was a rare occurrence, and even though the team always made sure to celebrate it like a podium there was something that stung about constantly being at the bottom.

"Do you realise how much trouble we could get into?"

"Ah," he sighs, and it's starting to annoy you how lightly he's talking about this, "ever the pragmatist."

"Well one of us has to be if the other's going to keep saying stupid shit," you huff before turning around and beelining out of his driver's room.

Seriously, a fake relationship? Had he lost his mind? Maybe if he focused more on his racing you wouldn't be constantly outperforming him.

"At least think about it, okay?" You hear him call out from behind you, and consider yourself lucky to be facing the other way so that he doesn't catch your obnoxious eye roll. Surely he had to be kidding because there was no way you were going to devote any amount of time to this ridiculous thought.

God fucking damnit.

It was frustratingly confusing, the kind of power Franco had. You had witnessed it first hand with how smoothly he spoke to anyone and managed to get his way almost instantly - but this was your first time experiencing it first-hand. It was another weekend, another country, another race, but the only thing you could think of was his stupid consideration - which, with each passing moment, seemed increasingly genius.

You had almost a year of experience with the team over your teammate, and with that, your fair share of embarrassment and disappointment. Sure, his idea was a little out there but you were close to being at your wits end and if nothing else, you hoped this would at least be a little fun. Plus you were pretty sure at this point if you didn't act on this thought soon, it would start interfering with your performance.

"Fine," you said a little breathlessly as you burst into his driver's room ahead of a race.

"Hey!" he exclaimed, looking at you with a shocked look, "whatever happened to knocking? I could've been naked in here!"

You roll your eyes before continuing, "You still up to the ..." You pause, thinking of how best to word it, "Fake relationship thing?"

His eyes light up immediately, "Ah, I knew you'd come around eventually."

Letting out a soft huff, just to let him know that you still aren't fully convinced this will work, you sit down on his couch. "I think we should lay down some ground rules first."

"Yes ma'am." He nods, straightening up and forcing a serious expression you can only assume is mocking yours.

"Firstly, no kissing."

"Understood."

"Actually no public affection at all, holding hands, hugging, nothing."

"Oh sure and how exactly are we going to convince people then?"

You pause, thinking for a little, "Okay maybe hand-holding and hugs are fine, but you better not push it - that goes for the pet names as well." He nods with a satisfied smile.

"And no one other than us two can know this is fake, alright? Otherwise, it'll spoil the plan."

"Trust me, I don't need anyone knowing I'm going along with something as ridiculous as this. It'll be our little secret."

"Our little secret," he repeats with a hum, a sly sort of smile spreading across his face as he gets up from his spot. "See you after the race, my love."

You sighed in exasperation, tossing your phone to the side of the couch in your driver's room where it fell with a light thud. You had about a thousand other things to be worrying about - your pretty disappointing result in qualifying for one - but for some reason, the main thing on your mind was your 'relationship' with Franco. Somehow, it had proved even more intense than you had expected, which planted a seed of worry in your mind as you realised how hard this was actually going to be to pull off. Since his not-so-subtle announcement to a hoard of hungry press members at last week's race, the media had managed up a flurry about the two of you.

There were supportive fans who liked you both enough not to see any problem with two teammates dating, as well as others who were more sceptical about how it might impact your performance. However, what really seemed to get to you were those who doubted you more than the relationship.

Your social media had been bombarded with comments and theories about the reason behind your relationship, doubting your place on the grid, and calling you names that - after shedding the status of 'first girl rookie', you thought you had left behind. Regardless, you feel a little stupid for being so unprepared for all this - not just the tweets but the harsh articles, the questions during press interviews and even shouting fans. Maybe if you had done a little more thinking about it first, you would've realised this was a stupid idea that should've been left at just that.

Throwing your head back you let out an exasperated sigh, trying to clear your head so that you could move on and focus on the race that was happening tomorrow. The last thing you wanted was for this plan to start impacting your driving. But Franco always seemed to have the worst timing - or best, depending on who you asked.

"Hello?" A couple quick knocks alert you of his presence before he cracks the door just wide enough to peek in. "There's my beautiful girlfriend." The way the pet names and affection seem to come to him so easily makes you simultaneously impressed and concerned, unsure of whether it's an indication of his great acting or flirting skills.

"What do you want?" You try to make it as obvious as you can that you're not in the mood, and he realises this right away.

"Oh, nothing, I just wanted to ask if you were free after this."

"You know I'm not really a huge fan of the big team dinners, especially not when we have a race tomorrow."

"Oh it's not like that, I was just going to go check out a restaurant near our hotel and wondered if you wanted to join me."

When you finally speak it's just above a whisper, "Is this a part of the fake dating thing?"

He laughs softly, his ability to find everything entertaining has always amazed you. "If you want to, it can be. If that gives you a reason to come hang out with me, though if you don't it's totally fine."

"No, I'll come, not like I've got anything better to do." You hate how every word you've said so far has sounded so pathetic.

"Great, I'll meet you by the paddock entry in ten?"

"See you then."

The street lights were dim, just bright enough to illuminate the street the two of you were walking down. The night was cool and still, and there were barely any people out other than you. You weren't sure why, but you had ended up telling Franco a lot more than you had expected. Maybe it was the extremely fancy restaurant you had initially gone to or the local one the two of you agreed to ditch it for instead, or maybe it was just the freeing feeling of being in another country.

The two of you had talked before, of course - as teammates it was difficult to avoid. But beyond the casual small talk, discussions about strategies or banter during challenges your relationship never extended beyond casual co-existence. It was one of the reasons you were glad your higher-ups had never tried to force the two of you into a professional friendship. There was something about Franco, his ability to strike up a conversation and maintain it even when the topic clearly strayed far beyond his interests, that made him so likeable, so easy to get along with. And the support he got from fans and the media reflected this well. You just never felt like there was any room for you in that equation.

But here, away from the cameras and shedding the roles of drivers, the two of you became normal people. You spoke, you laughed, you vented to him everything that worried you about your 'relationship' and he listened throughout all of it - all the while the two of you shared the biggest, best, pizza you had ever had.

"I have to say, I don't know if our engineers will appreciate the extra weight I've just put on," he jokes, breaking the comfortable silence that had been lingering around you two as you walked.

"Me neither, they might have to roll me into the car at this rate."

"You know, I think this is the first time the two of us have hung out, just us two."

You think for a little before answering, "You're right."

"Do you think there's a reason for that?"

"You mean besides us both being extremely busy people and already seeing each other pretty often? Not really, no."

"Good point, though with our little plan, we're definitely going to be seeing each other a lot more."

There's a beat of silence. "This is nice though, right?" He asks, and his voice is so tentative you almost find it endearing.

"It is nice, this was fun." You try not to think too much about the fact the two of you could be mistaken by any passer-by as a couple of lovebirds on a first date - or that fact that even to those who knew you, you were.

"I appreciate you telling me all that stuff, you know, about what people are saying about you."

"Oh, if anything I should be thanking you for listening to me vent about it."

"It is serious though, I'm so stupid for not even thinking about what you'd have to deal with."

"Well I don't think either of us gave it enough thought but," you pause and look up at him, "we're too far in to back out now."

He shoots you a comforting smile, one that shows how reassured he feels that you seem to finally be coming around to his idea. That is, at least, before his face morphs into one of discomfort.

"God, I'm so full."

"We're almost back at the hotel now, let's just sleep and then we can wake up early tomorrow morning to-"

"Wait, is that ice cream?" Franco interrupts you to point out a street vendor who's about to pack up for the night, and before you know it he's running up to the man eagerly. You can only follow suit with a sigh, knowing full well you wouldn't mind some dessert either.

"You two are lucky, you'll be my last customers for the night," the moustachioed owner of the cart says with a warm smile.

"Thanks," you reply kindly, before turning to Franco, "what flavour do you think you'll get."

"Hm, not sure, maybe chocolate?"

"Wow, boring."

He scoffs, "Oh yeah? And what exotic flavour are you going to get then?"

"Mint choc," you smile, but your face drops once you see your teammate's disgusted expression.

"You've got to be kidding me, that's like the worst choice."

You feign offence, "How dare you insult the best ice cream flavour of all time?"

"Ah, you two are quite the couple," the man laughs and you watch as Franco's eyes widen in embarrassment.

"Oh we're not-"

"Thank you," it's your turn to interrupt him, turning to the man with a smile. "One chocolate and one mint choc chip please."

You go to reach for your wallet to pay but you feel a hand on yours, stopping you.

"No, it's okay, I got this."

"Wh- Franco c'mon you know full well both of us could afford about a thousand of these ice cream cones don't be ridiculous."

"I know," he smiles and even though he's trying to be serious you know he's also trying not to laugh, "but I just figured you know, I'm the one who dragged you out here and like, got you into this whole fake dating mess."

You furrow your brows, a little confused at what exactly he's getting at.

"I guess I just want to say thank you, you know?"

"Alright, alright," you laugh softly, watching as he pays and takes both of the cones, handing you yours. Once you grab yours, you instinctively loop your arm around his, pulling him close and resting your head against his shoulder. The ice cream man laughs endearingly at the two of you.

"You're the best boyfriend ever!" you say in as high and cute a voice you can manage, cringing a little but determined to keep up the bit - you don't even bother to think about how fast you can feel Franco's heart race when you do.

Last night was really nice. You're sitting next to your race engineer, nodding along as she points to various multi-coloured dots and lines on the screen. You hear yourself agreeing with a couple quick "mhms", "of course" and "yep"s even though you can barely hear what she's saying. You're mere minutes away from getting in your car for a race, getting briefed on your strategy, and the only thing you can think of is the 'date' you had with Franco last night - if you can even call it that.

You had thought that getting everything off your chest, the hate comments, the doubt you had, would help you feel better and relieve any worries you had. And it did, at least until you got back to your hotel room alone and caught yourself smiling at the thought of seeing your teammate again the next day. How, even as you washed up and got ready for bed, you found yourself thinking - pizza, ice cream, walking at night together, isn't that something a real couple would do?

"Are you listening to me?" your race engineer's voice cuts through the haze of your thoughts, causing you to straighten up immediately.

"Yes! Sorry," you mumble, but just at that moment, you see him walk into the garage, greeting a couple of the mechanics warmly. Before you realise it, he's beelining straight for you, his arm coming around your waist as he leans in close to your ear.

"There's a ton of cameras, I just wanted to be believable," he whispers, and when he pulls back you can see the smile on his face. You nod curtly, fully aware of how red your face feels over such a small interaction as he waltzes away.

"Okay, so as I was saying," your race engineer pipes up again, though you couldn't be paying her less of your attention - watching as your 'boyfriend' walks off, his brown hair illuminating in the afternoon light. For a fake relationship, the quickening pace of your heart felt far too real.

"Well you two have been teammates since the beginning of this year, can you tell us a little about when you realised you might be more?"

Your struggle was never-ending - or at least, that's what it felt like, finding yourself at the centre of an impromptu interview with Franco. Around you, the other drivers were getting questions about their place in their teams, how they felt about their current strategy and about their racing futures. And there the two of you were, getting thrown question after question about your 'relationship'.

"Well," you begin, before being saved by your teammate. You had to give it to him - he was great at making stuff up on the spot.

"Well, I think it was somewhere around a month after I first joined the team, and met her. It was just something about her, she's sort of electric in this almost untouchable way, you know?"

You try not to look too awkward standing next to him as he talks, feigning your best-interested smile - though a part of you is extremely intrigued by this fake story he's creating.

"At first I thought I just wanted to be like her, her passion and talent were just so respectable, but the more time I spent with her the more I realised it was something completely different."

He turns to look at you, his arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you close to him. Your expression falters a little as you're caught off guard by the sudden contact and as you turn away from the journalists and towards him, your eyes widen in shock at the sight of his pursed lips nearing yours. Before you realise it, his lips are against yours and you're pulling away as quickly as possible, face bright red. You're just barely aware of the thousands of flashing camera lights as you turn to quickly excuse yourself.

"Thank you all for coming, it was nice talking to you but, uhm, I have to go!" You hurriedly blurt out before slipping out of Franco's grip and darting off to your driver's room.

You hear his footsteps following closely behind you, as well as the sound of him calling out your name. When you near the door of your room, you turn around and grab his wrist to yank him in before you shut the door.

"What the hell was that?" is all you can muster out, "I thought we agreed no kissing?"

"Look, I can explain!"

You cross your arms with a huff, looking at him expectedly.

"I was just going to peck you quickly on the cheek, you know because we were getting all romantic and I wanted it to be believable! B-but then you turned, and then we," he's struggling not to ramble and his quickly moving hands do little to help. That's when you also realise his face is bright red as well, and he doesn't seem any less flustered by it than you do. "I'm really, really sorry I really shouldn't have done that."

You'd be lying if you said his explanation didn't make you feel any better. You're not actually upset about the kiss itself though, in fact, it's the opposite - actually, the grudge you're holding is doing little to help the internal struggle going on in your head. The kiss didn't make you angry, but the realisation that you wanted it to be real, did.

You sigh, rubbing your temples as you slump down in the nearest chair. Franco does the same on the adjacent couch, though his gaze stays carefully on you, almost afraid of what you might say next.

"It's fine, I think we just need to coordinate our PDA a little better then."

"Yes, of course," he nods quickly.

There's a beat of silence. "You're really good at acting though."

"What?"

"That whole story you made up about how you fell in love with me, it was really believable." You laugh lightheartedly trying to lighten the situation and alleviate the awkwardness that's settled between you two.

"Well it's pretty easy, I didn't need to make up much of it," his eyes catch yours and his gaze is soft when he smiles at you.

"What?" you're confused.

"Never mind," he scoffs lightly, his gaze dropping to the floor as he rubs the back of his neck. He looks almost disappointed at something, though you can't realise what. "Well, I'll leave you alone now. I really am sorry about what happened before." You watch as he pushes himself up from the couch, his head hanging guiltily - looking almost like a scolded puppy.

"It's fine Franco, really, please don't feel too bad about it." He nods thankfully before slipping out the door, leaving you alone.

Being a driver, hotel rooms had come to be a companion you knew far too familiarly. Their high ceilings, plush sterile white bedsheets, the empty bathroom - almost everything about them felt a sign of loneliness, of temporality, a house that never felt like home. Even though you knew how ridiculous it would be to complain about something that others would see as a privilege, it was hard to deny the isolation you felt whenever in a new country, away from most of your family or friends.

Maybe that's why you had been so eager to latch onto Franco's idea - it made sense, he had become the person you spent the most time with so why not give yourself some ridiculous reason to be around him even more? However somewhere along the way you stopped needing the reason of fake dating, somewhere in between hushed conversations, planned posts and candid photos - and instead found yourself genuinely enjoying his company. It was a little strange and sometimes acted as a sour reminder of how lonely you'd become but more than anything it felt like a blessing in disguise.

You were reminded of this fact as you lay, wrapped in a plush white hotel robe, across your messy bedsheets - laughing to yourself at the tweets your boyfriend had sent you. They were all about you, or the two of you, of course. Comments on the tiniest things, the way the two of you looked at each other, the way Franco held your hand, the way you worried about him.

"I feel a little bad, they're all so gullible," you typed quickly.

"Oh, so now you feel bad?" His response was almost instant.

"Don't you?"

"It's fun, isn't it? All this playing pretend."

Right, pretend. You rolled onto your back with a deep sigh, staring up at the tall hotel ceiling. All of this was just so confusing - as if figuring out how you felt about someone wasn't difficult enough, the two of you had complicated it by tricking the entire world into thinking you were in love. Whether you truly liked him or not, the idea was doomed for failure - and the more you thought about it, the more it seemed like the former.

"You're right," you typed back, watching intently as the three tiny dots appeared, disappeared then reappeared. What could he be saying that would need so much thinking?

"Can we talk tomorrow, after the race?"

You felt your stomach drop, had he finally caught on to how obvious you were being about how you truly felt, and decided that actually it might be better to just drop this whole act and go on as just teammates? With trembling hands, you typed back.

"Sure, what about?"

"I'll tell you then, for now, we should sleep."

"Goodnight Franco."

"Goodnight mi amor." You laughed softly to yourself at the nickname he had given you, though a small part of you took it as salt to the wound - almost as if he was dangling the possibility of something that could never happen right in front of your desperate little face.

However, not like you had a choice - all you could do now was get ready for bed and brace yourself for whatever tomorrow brought.

You couldn't believe it. The sounds of celebration erupted around you, but you sat completely still in your car, silent, attempting to process what had just happened. Your first win, and, your first double podium, with Franco. Your head was spinning as the never-ending stream of thoughts raced through your mind. Suddenly, you heard a voice coming from above your car's halo, muffled by your helmet. You flick the visor up, lifting your head as highly as you could - locking eyes with your teammate.

"We did it! Oh my god!" The excitement on his face is enough to send a slight surge of energy through you as he offers you his hand, helping you out of the car. When you do though, you stumble a little - the nerves are almost too much for you.

"Woah, you alright?" Even through the fog clouding your mind you can make out the concern in Franco's voice and feel his arms steadying you.

"Yeah, just-" you mumble, gesturing to your helmet and making weak attempts to undo the clasps underneath it. It's almost suffocating you, and the chaos going on around you isn't helping the pounding headache.

"Oh, let me," he reacts immediately, dropping his own helmet and bringing his hands below your chin to swiftly undo the clasps and pull the helmet off of you. You take a deep breath of air as you pull off your fireproof mask, though it sounds more like a desperate gasp.

Around you, the crowds roar with excitement, both your team and others as they make attempts to gesture at the two of you to join them. Your head spins though, and you wobble backwards into Franco.

"It's too loud," is all you can stutter out, though he understands you almost immediately, a strong hand gripping your wrist and pulling you away from the noise and somewhere quieter. You're not entirely sure where he's taking you but at that moment you feel as though you'd follow him just about anywhere.

Luckily though, when your eyes refocus you're in his driver's room, and even though outside you can hear the cheers continuing, you're offered some solace here, the walls muffling the sound. You sigh, sinking into his couch as you throw your head back, panting still.

You feel like it's all just too much - not just the physicality of the race, but the feeling of winning it, winning it with Franco, just Franco himself. When you finally manage to catch your breath you lift your head to see him standing over you, watching intently.

"Better?"

"Much better, thank you." You smile earnestly, "Though I don't think we'll be able to hide in here much longer, there is a cooldown room for this exact reason."

"Oh, I mentioned it to someone, not sure who but he looked important, and he said it would be okay."

You laugh softly, amazed at how he can seem so calm even at a moment like this.

"We did it," you say, still not being able to believe it.

"We did," he smiles, sitting on the couch next to you, "a couples podium."

You feel your heart skip a beat at the sudden reminder of your conversation last night, him mentioning he had something to tell you. Was this it? The two of you had achieved what you had been wanting this entire time, and there was no better time to let this ridiculous bit go than now.

You stare at the wall of his room, the gigantic flag of his home country, and let out a shaky breath, mustering up the courage to break the silence. "So..."

He turns to you, one eyebrow raised in interest.

"What was it you wanted to talk to me about?" You're trying your best to keep your voice lighthearted, "it sounded serious."

"Oh, well about that," he seems to have forgotten it temporarily as well, but the fact that he turns to look at the flag as well, almost unable to maintain eye contact with you, isn't a good sign.

Maybe it's the adrenaline from the race, maybe it's the fact that both of you are going to be needed out on the podium in about ten minutes - or maybe it's the fact that you're so desperate to get out these feelings and make him understand how you feel, but you start talking before you even realise it.

"Look, Franco, I," you start, not entirely sure of where you're going to end up, "I know you asked me to do this whole fake dating thing with you and I completely understand if you want to end it now, I mean why wouldn't we? It's perfect!"

He looks at you confused, lips parted as if about to interrupt you but you continue anyway, stupidly.

"But, look, here's the thing," you turn to him now, and you're sure your face is bright red, "I don't want this to end!"

You let out a deep sigh, and clutch your hands together to stop them from shaking, though it doesn't help that Franco looks even more confused now.

"What?" he says, and your heart drops.

"I," you pause, struggling to find the right words, and struggling to get them out, "I think I like you, like, for real." Okay, not exactly the best choice of words but it'll do.

"Like, not for the whole fake relationship thing?" his tone is still concerned and he leans in a little for clarification.

"Yes! Okay, I know it's not exactly what we thought would happen and it'll probably jeopardise our relationship as teammates but there, I like you okay."

"When did you realise?"

"A couple days ago, I'm sorry."

There's a beat of silence, and you're left with the agonising feeling of your heart racing in your chest, waiting eagerly for his response - for him to laugh in your face, for him to get mad, for him to reject you.

But instead, you watch as Franco's confused expression melts into one of pure relief as he sinks back into the couch with a sigh. "Oh, thank God."

It's your turn to be confused. "I'm sorry, what?"

"You have no idea how long I've waited to hear you say that," he says, eyes fixed on the ceiling with the widest smile you've ever seen.

"Wait you mean you-"

"I win!"

You're absolutely speechless, not a single coherent thought on what is going on or how to respond. All you can get out is a confused sort of grunt.

"I win, I've liked you for longer!" he laughs, sitting up and grabbing your hands in his.

You feel as though your jaw is going to dislocate at how fast it drops, "I'm sorry?"

"Oh c'mon, we've been teammates for a year I know you're not that oblivious."

"Well, apparently I am because I'm really confused."

"I've liked you since the moment I met you, you idiot."

"Wh-" You're about to be offended at the name-calling until what he says finally hits you. He likes you. He has liked you. For ages. You idiot.

"Even when you proposed this to me?"

"Yep."

"Even when we went to get ice cream?"

"Yep."

"Even when you kissed me?"

"Y- well wait no that was completely unintentional," he holds his hands out in defence. You slump back, trying your best to process everything today has entailed, it's almost too much. That is until you feel Franco move a little closer to you, his arm stretching around your shoulders and gently moving your head to lay on his. At that moment, it all becomes clear, and you're suddenly unsure about why you ever felt confused about any of this.

"What now?" You say, barely above a whisper.

"We go and get our trophies," even though you're not looking you can hear the smile in his voice. "Though, before then."

You lift your head up off his shoulder to turn to him with raised brows. "Hm?"

"Now that we aren't fake dating, do the rules still apply?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I'd really like to kiss you right now," he whispers, and there's a hint of nerves as you watch his eyes dart in between yours and your lips.

"Really can't wait can you," you tease, though you still move to close the space in between you to. But just before your lips can touch his there's a knock at the door, causing you both to slump back with a sigh.

"Hey, are you two in there?" it's your race mechanic, "you're needed, you know, on the podium."

You roll your eyes to show your obvious disappointment at being interrupted, though Franco just watches you with an endeared smile.

"What are you thinking about?" you ask, not being able to hide your own smile.

"I'm just thinking about how beautiful you're going to look up on that podium, and how I won't have to pretend not to be in love with you anymore."

Taglist : @spreadyourwings-my-smiling-angel @cinderellawithashoe @vanicogh @taasgirl @claudiajacobs

@dripostsstuff @boiolay @earth-to-lottie @dejavuontrack @dudududu-fangirl

@kravitzwhore @gavisuntiedboot @reiofsuns2001 @musicmie @danielle12002x-blog

@alelo23 @corrodeddeadlydoll @aliwritex @nina-or-anna-or-nora

@5sospenguinqueen @araunahj @sbrn0905 @halleest @lottieliveslife

@lovestruck-sky @im-an-op81-fan @blubra @vienoiserieetc

(don't ask me why it's formatted so weird, tumblr hates me)

[sweetiecutie]

Ok ok listen-

teacher!valeria x student!reader🫶���

(I imagen her and us having "study sessions" she calls us in her classroom to talk about our grades or she calls us in her classroom so she can "help" us with something that we didnt understand 😻😻and could reader be a fem?. if u dont want to do this is ok!!🫶❤️)

Pairing: Valeria Garza x fem! Reader

Warnings: NSFW, smut, university AU!, professor/student trope, age gap implied

A/n: this is literally so sexy, I’m about to cream my fucking pants😩

Okay, so this is a university au, in which Valeria is one of the professors. I have a feeling that she would be teaching something hard and complicated - let’s say math.

Professor Garza is very strict. She’s one of the people who value discipline and order over anything else, punishing everyone who dares disturbing it. Valeria wouldn’t think twice before giving out detentions and extra work for behavior she deems unacceptable within auditorium. Chatting during her lectures? - detention. Forgetting to do homework she gave? - detention and double the amount of exercises you had to be handed over to her due to 3 pm the next day.

Many students fear Miss Garza, many hate her, many like her; but every single one has some sort of respect for her cold and stoic demeanor. Valeria is strict and demanding , but she’s also one of the bestest - many students wish to be teached by her.

And even if it seems nearly impossible, Valeria does have favorites. Very few - 3-4 students in whole university, but boy are they privileged.

Valeria values conformity over anything else. She prefers students that are polite and well-behaved, never causing any commotion or fuss. And you happened to be just that - miss goody two shoes, one of the bestest in your year, never once failing ho hand in whatever assignment Valeria gave you, no matter how complicated or cumbersome the work was.

Garza quickly caught onto your skills, and by the end of first year she already valued you over the rest of your group. Not only the brilliance of your mind, which was capable of so many amazing thing, drew her in; you’re quite a sight for sore eye as well - clothes always neat and ironed, hair framing your pretty face perfectly no matter what, light makeup only highlighting your natural beauty. Valeria couldn’t help her eyes lingering on your soft thighs whenever you decided on wearing a skirt or a dress to uni, flooding her head with images of these exact thighs spread wide before her.

It was quite a challenge for Valeria to find any mistakes in your works. You were a smart little girl, she had no doubts about it at that point. But every time, with extreme effort, professor Garza managed to find all the little flaws in your works. They did seem ridiculous tho, something other math professors wouldn’t even deem as a mistake. So first time this happened you came up to the older woman, asking about your strangely low grade; and Valeria, voice softer with feigned sympathy, patiently explained why she had to grade you so lowly. “I hope you do better next time, hm?” She’d say with a small smile, dismissing you from her classroom. Oh how the sight of your pouting lips and teary eyes got her off

As semester drew nearer to its end your works didn’t seem to improve even a slightest bit. At this point you were convinced that it was something personal - that professor Garza simply disliked you (oh if only you knew). So it was a surprise when Valeria called out for you to stay behind as everyone was leaving after the end of her lecture. You obediently descended the stairs of high auditorium, coming to her desk, standing there patiently as all the students left.

Once alone in the room, Valeria turned to face you, one hip leaning onto the edge of her working desk. Her dark eyes gazed at you from above thin lenses of her reading glasses, arms crossed over her chest making her tits perk up teasingly from within two unmade buttons of her white blouse.

“Y/n, I wanted to talk to you about your grades” she said, her voice sounding a bit softer than usual - voice she used on you only. Your body tensed slightly at her words, your fingers gripping your books more tightly as you looked at her tentatively.

“I made a small research on your academic performance and it seems that you only struggle with my subject. Is there any particular reason to this?” She asked, concern lacing her words.

You bit your tongue, fighting back bitter words of indignation - it was Valeria’s fault only that your grades in math were so low. But you kept silent, gazing dully onto the floor under your feet. Professor Garza heaved a heavy sigh, her heart thrumming loudly within her chest at what she was about to do.

“Y/n, you’re a very smart girl, and I don’t want you to ruin your record because of arithmetics. I can give you some extra credit” she said calmly, your ears perking up at her words.

You looked up at the older woman, obviously surprised - Valeria never gave extra credit, no matter the circumstances. You blinked rapidly a few times - you won’t lose such an opportunity, you’d be a fool if you did.

“Sure, I’d be very grateful!” You said quickly, looking at Valeria with wide eager eyes.

She only smiled at your words, nodding for you to come closer. As you did, she took your books and notes out of your hands, placing them on the faraway side of her desk. “You won’t need these”

As you were going to ask what she meant her warm hand clasped around the back of your neck, slamming you against her desk. With a small squeak you were bent over the table, your cheek squished against some papers scattered on top of it. You felt Valeria’s hot chest pressing against your back, her free hand glided up and down the side of your hip as she whispered into your ear “Now I need you to be a good little girl and spread your legs wider”

And you did. Arousal pooled in the pit of your stomach, making your knees go weak as Valeria’s hand slipped in between your soft thighs - just like she always dreamed of, massaging your soft pussy through thin material of your panties.

Soon enough these same panties were shoved into your mouth to muffle all desperate cries tearing through your chest as to not disturb other professors in nearby auditoriums; three of Valeria’s long fingers fucked in and out of your drooling pussy with loud squelching sounds, her fingertips grazing that one spot deep within you, making your eyes roll and toes curl.

You exited professor Garza’s auditorium on trembling legs, your makeup and hair unnaturally messy, eyes unfocused and bleary but - most importantly - with impeccable record on arithmetics.

But to keep your math performance this way, you had to visit professor Garza some more for extracurricular activities <3

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Writers live off feedback, give us some love<3

[fangirl-dot-com]

🖤Prologue - My Reputation's Never Been Worse

Ok, so I was in the mood to create something dealing with the news about Logan's car being traded for Alex. So, I thought, why not give Reputations a prologue. Now, this does not happen in 2024. This is set around the 2023 Brazil Grand Prix. Everything in this story is fake. I'm sorry I had to make some of the drivers mean - in no way do I think that they act like this. Yes, they could be nicer to Logan but because I don't know them personally, I have no real thoughts about what they do in their own lives.

All I know is that Logan deserves all the love and my heart hurts for him.

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

Saturday, November 4, 2023 

“You want to do what?” 

James sighed as he hunched over his desk. Logan was in disbelief over the question that he was just asked. Alex sat to his right, chewing on his finger nails. 

“It’s just for one race Logan. It’s no big deal.” 

Logan’s brows pinched in annoyance. “No big deal? Two races ago, we scored our first double points. I have raced clean, I’ve shown you what I can do.” 

“That right now doesn’t matter Logan,” James pushed. “What matters is the team. And we need to keep pushing to get points.” 

“Then let me race. Let me prove to you that I can do it.” 

Alex coughed, but no one paid attention to him. The Thai’s eyes were pointed at the floor. His silence was deafening. Logan leaned back in his seat. 

“Are you asking me or telling me?” 

There wasn’t an answer from James, which gave Logan everything he needed to know. How dare they come to a circuit without an extra chassis. How dare they ask Logan to give up his car that he worked so hard to get in the first place. It was ridiculous. And even if Alex managed to score points, it wouldn’t really matter. There were only a few races left. 

Logan finally turned to his teammate. “What do you think about this?” 

Alex only replied, “I would do what was best for the team.” 

A scoff escaped the blonde’s lips.  

“So if I had crashed out, and they asked you to give your car to me, what would you say?” 

“It wouldn’t matter because they’d never ask me to do that. I’d still drive.” 

Logan’s jaw wanted to fall. Did Alex really just say that? The man who had been so confident in Logan. The one who encouraged him after every fault. The person who was supposed to be his teammate. 

Logan could only collapse against the back of the chair. In frustration, he threw his hands up. 

“Fine. Whatever it take for the team right?” he bit. 

“Thank you Logan.” 

However, the American was out the door before he could even hear James. He needed some air. As he walked around the paddock, he saw lots of people but thankfully (or sadly) they didn’t pay attention to him. After walking for a bit, he knew where he was automatically going to. 

The back of the Mercedes garage. 

George, bless his heart, had comforted him once after a particular bad DNF and told him that if he ever needed a place to just sit, he was always welcome there. The tall Briton was always nice to the American. Way nicer than anyone had really treated him. 

He sat on the wet-ish grass and pulled out his phone. Time to look like he was actually doing something. Maybe the weather in Madrid was nice, or maybe it was raining back home? The weather app was always his go to. 

It only took a matter of moments for the post to go live. His eyes followed the mass amount of comments that poured in. And most of them were not lovely. He wanted to cry, but he knew better. 

Footsteps made him aware that someone was coming. He quickly stood up and rounded a corner, putting his back flat against the wall. 

It was Alex, George, Lando, and Oscar. 

“Great,” he whispered when he realized that there was no way to escape without them seeing. Oh well, eavesdropping was one of his specialties. 

“He was not happy,” he heard Alex say. “I don’t blame him.” 

Lando scoffed, or well, he thought it was Lando. 

“This wouldn’t have happened if he was a better driver.” 

Yep, that was Lando. 

“Come on, don’t say that.” 

Thank you Oscar, Logan wanted to say. Thank you for standing up for me. 

“Mate, you were just saying yesterday about how he really isn’t fit for F1. You said that he should have stuck with Indy Car or something.” 

Ouch.

Logan wanted to throw up. 

“Shit, I was really mean to him in there. I should have said something.” That was Alex again. 

Logan could practically hear Lando roll his eyes. For some reason, George has stayed eerily quiet. 

“Alex, it’s his own fault. I’m just saying everything that everyone is thinking. I’m the only one who is brave enough to say it. Logan Sergeant has no business being in Formula 1.” 

Oscar stuttered out, “That’s enough Lando.” 

“Right sorry, forgot you two were close.” 

Come on Oscar. 

“Not that close. He exaggerates a bit. To be honest, I just felt bad for him. He kind of stuck to me and I just let him.” 

Oh.

Alex sighed. “He wanted to prove something so much. But there’s really no need.” 

“No need?” Logan whispered to himself. 

“James isn’t extending his contract. Williams is going with whoever wins this year’s Formula 2 championship.” 

There was silence for a bit. Logan took the time to reign in his breaths that were quickly getting faster and faster. He did not need to have a panic attack here and now. 

“We have to go, Andrea is texting me.” 

“I’ll go with. My engineers have to look over Logan’s car to change some things.” 

He heard footsteps start to walk away. The lone Williams driver let out a deep sigh and sank to the ground. His head was automatically in his hands as he finally let his tears shed. What he didn’t see was a 6-foot Briton walking his way. 

The blonde gasped when he felt a food nudge his. His head shot up and was faced with George. 

“Oh hey. Didn’t see you coming.” 

“I know you were listening.” 

Red flushed Logan’s face as the idea of being caught. 

“It’s not eavesdropping if everyone talks so loudly.” 

George sighed. “I’m not mad Logan. I’m worried for you.” 

A scoff escaped from Logan. 

“You’d be the first.” 

George felt his heart drop at the sentence. 

“I try and try, and no matter what I do, it’s never good enough.” 

“Mate, you can’t get anywhere in a Williams. Did you even see my rookie year? It was bloody awful.” 

Logan looked back down. “But you’re now in Mercedes. You won the Formula 2 championship. I wasn’t even runner up or third place. Williams is all I have, er, well, had I guess.” 

“I’m truly sorry Logan.” 

“Sure.” 

George started to walk away, knowing that trying to convince the American that he was good enough was a lost cause. Logan waited until the Briton left before standing up to make his way back to the garage. 

He could feel the eyes on him now as he made the journey back to Williams. His eyes caught George standing with Lewis, Max, and Charles. They looked sad as they watched him walk. 

Whatever, Logan did want or need their pity. 

The American kept on walking, only stopping to ask for a car to take him back to his hotel. Man, did he wish Benny were here. It would make everything so much better. His phone had been blowing up with so many notifications. Multiple messages from his friends back home, along with his parents, had been nothing less than supportive. 

However, one message caught his eye as he was going through the long list. He was surprised, but there was a warm, fuzzy feeling at the sight of your name. He knew that you were also having a hard time adjusting to everything. Except for the fact that you had won a race for Arrow a few weeks prior. Hell, he was even at your celebration party. But he remembered the looks on your team’s faces as you celebrated. 

One good word would be jealousy. 

And it wasn’t just your team: it was everyone. 

He sent you a quick text saying that he’d call you when he got back to his room. A fast “I’ll be waiting” brought the warm feelings back.

 He quickly walked through the hotel doors and into the elevator. It was going to be so nice when he could change into his sweatpants and t-shirt.

Logan mulled over the entire thing as he showered. 

He could have stayed home in Florida. He wasn’t needed here anyway. He could be in his childhood room, in his own comfy bed instead of the stuffy hotel room that he knew was smaller than the one that Alex got. He had seen the Thai’s pictures from Instagram and their rooms did not look the same. 

He quickly glanced in the mirror, just to see if his hair looked fine. He was thinking of growing it out, but hesitated to. He didn’t want to be made fun of even more than he already was. With a jump into the bed, he was ready. 

He sent you a quick text, only to be met with the FaceTime screen ready. He rolled his eyes, you had always been so impatient to talk to people. When he pressed the green button, he was met with a big smile and an oh so familiar and safe face. 

“Hi Logan.” 

How he missed your voice. You were always so soft spoken, but could yell at people if you needed to. He had been on the wrong side of your yell one too many times. But, he could listen to you for hours if he could. 

“Hello? Earth to Logan?” 

He quickly shook his head. 

“Hi Y/n,” he murmured, laying his head on his bicep as he just looked into the camera. You had a sad smile as you looked at the blonde. 

You could see his eyebags and his pale completion through the small screen. His red eyes signified that he probably cried when he took his shower (you knew because his hair was still soaked). 

You cleared your voice. “How are you holding up?” 

Logan’s shoulders only raised before dropping back down. 

“I’ve been better.” 

“Of course you have.” 

“Overheard that I’m not going to be resigned for next year.” 

A gasp echoed through the room before you sighed. Your hand ran through your hair. When you and Logan were little, people always mistook you for twins or very close siblings. That always annoyed you because you claimed that Logan was your boyfriend, not your brother. The moms and dads would just laugh. 

Looking back, you always wished you cherished those moments more than you had. The “relationship” only lasted for three days or until you saw Logan give Jessica his extra fruit roll up instead of you. After that, you claimed that you could only be his best friend since he didn’t love you as much as you loved him. You were over it as soon as you gave Michael your extra fruit roll up. 

You looked down at your fingers in your lap and bit your lip. 

“What are you thinking about?” 

You sighed again. “If it helps, I’m not getting resigned either.” 

Logan’s eyes widened as he scoffed. 

“That’s ridiculous. You have given them 1 out of their 2 wins this season.” 

“And Logan, you scored points as the first American in like 30 years. Nothing in motorsports is ever fair.” 

Logan leaned back, but kept his face visible. 

“Remember when we were kids? And we always said that we would make it to our dreams together?” 

A quiet hum sounded from his phone. 

“Have we made it yet?” 

Silence was his answer. 

“I don’t think we have.” 

“What do you mean by that?” 

“Logan, is driving in a Williams really your dream?” 

The male thought for a moment. Did he accomplish his dream of getting and making it to Formula 1? To the outside world, yes, yes he did. He drove for an F1 team. He ‘made it’ even if it wasn’t the best. But is it really making it if you finished 21st in a 22 driver line up? 

No, that was not making it. That was barely getting by. 

“I guess my dream was just to show everyone that I could do it. That I’d be good at it. But, now I haven’t done that.” 

“Then why have you given up?” 

“Because everyone wants me to. No one has ever liked me for me.” 

“I do.” 

Logan inhaled sharply. He finally turned his head to see you looking right at him through the screen. He felt a tear run down his face. 

When had that gotten there? 

“Logan, listen to me.” 

A hum from him made you laugh. You guessed that’s what you were going to get out of him. 

“You have the talent, Williams saw that. They just couldn’t give you a car to maximize your potential. And who cares if no one likes you. You don’t have to make them like you, but at the same time you do. You can’t be green-eyed lady whisperer Charles Leclerc or World Champion Max Verstappen.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Wow, thanks Y/n.” 

Your giggles filled the air. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.” 

“Yeah, yeah, please continue about Charles’s green eyes.” 

“Dude I could write a whole biography on his eyes alone. But I don’t want to. I’d rather write a whole novel about yours.” 

What was that supposed to mean? 

“Anyway, what I’m trying to say Logan, is that you have to believe in yourself and show them that they need to like you because you are you. Say it with me please? Like you’re talking to a hater. ‘You must like me for me’.” 

Logan whispered back, trying to believe his words. 

“You must like me for me.” 

He shot up from the bed as soon as he said the words. 

“Isn’t that a Taylor Swift lyric?” 

His eyes narrowed at you through the phone. You only smirked back at him. 

“Quite possibly. Now, you are going to go to bed, sleep so well, and then keep smiling. Show them that they haven’t destroyed your spirit just yet.” 

Logan put his head on a pillow. 

“Oh, so they are going to destroy my spirit at some point.” 

“Yep!,” you popped the ‘p,’ “but not right now. That can come later.” 

He smiled dopily at you. 

“You’re the best you know? I know that I say that Oscar is my best friend, but it’s actually you.” 

A whine-like noise came from your throat. 

“You’re my best friend too. I’ll see you in a couple of months ok? Still have to beat Dalton at football this summer.” 

“You say that every year!” 

“Ok and?” 

“Goodnight Y/n.” 

“Night Logan. Sweet dreams.” 

You hung up the phone, leaving Logan alone in his little hotel apartment. He thought about what you had said. What’s the point in trying to make them believe in him anyway. They were going to throw him away like trash soon. 

But you were also right. He didn’t need to prove anything to anyone. He just needed to show them what he could do, and they could feel bad about it later. 

Logan set his alarms for the morning and got under the covers. 

He’d show them. 

His reputation has never been worse, so what’s a bit of fun until the end? 

logansargeant has posted

logansargeant if I didn't have a day job, I'd spend every moment listening to you, come visit me soon - your best friend

liked by georgerussell63, williamsracing, racer.y/n, and 493,206 others

logiebear oooooo girl in the pictures - have something to tell us mr. American 🤨

lolo2024 what they did to him this weekend was unfair

sargeant2 this was my first Grand Prix and I came from Spain just to watch him! I'm so sad that now I won't get to... :(

logansargeant hey! sorry about that - let me know what you're wearing and I'll try to find you, thank you for the support 💙

sargeant2 OH MY GOSH

racer.y/n I'll see you soon ok! sorry, my day job is also taking up all my time 🧡 *liked by logansargeant*

indyxf1 HELLO Y/N L/N??

log4_ever who is she?

indyxf1 so she like grew up grew up with Logan and she currently races for McLaren Arrow (their IndyCar entry) - she's won half of their races (1/2)

sarg4president they don't deserve you Logan!

loscar_812 I thought Oscar was your best friend hmmmm??

logan&y/n uhhhh haven't you seen that Oscar has been drifting since he's gotten closer with Lando??

loscar_812 oh. yeah. :(

billsracing and I thought williams was different - not them creeping in the likes 🙄

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @myxticmoon @cherry-piee @blueberry64857959 @glitterquadricorn @lizzypiastri @disneyprincemuke @sam-is-lost @spilled-coffee-cup @ilove-tswizzle @the-untamed-soul @allenajade-ite @starssfall @torchbearerkyle @judespoision @halfdeadsage @juniper-july19 @severewobblerlightdragon @thatgirlmj @gods-menace @ineedafictionalman @namgification @dark-night-sky-99 @samantha-chicago @2pagenumb @treehouse-mouse @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @kagatinkita @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @awekbachira @vellicora

[whimsickool]

RATING THE ENTITIES ON HOW FUN THEY'D BE AT MONOPOLY:

1.  The Flesh - 1/10, wont stop trying to use severed body parts as its player token, houses, and hotels. This would be fine if they werent so fresh and thus staining the board. Brought meatloaf and refused to specify what meat was actually involved. We agreed to order pizza instead.

2. The Desolation - 4/10, is a sore loser and barely wants to play as intended. It mostly keeps trying to flip the damn board and when finally realizing its temper tantrum won't work, they just give all their assets to one player to tilt the game unfavorably like a dick.

3. The Lonely - 5/10, didn't show up on time, didn't play, and mostly sat on the couch for all of game night watching reruns of Golden Girls. This is due to the lonely feeling one gets when realizing you'll never have friends like The Golden Girls. They still get a point for watching though.

4. The Dark - 2/10, at first they just kept flipping off the lights which made it hard to play but when The Desolation suggested candles (the only helpful thing they did all evening) The Dark responded by leaking dark water all over which got the money and chance/community cards wet.

5. The Spiral - 6/10, just enjoyed going around and around and around on the board, sorta played? Mostly lied about how much money they had or owed or what chance/community card they pulled. This was because, "math is for losers." Thus, they did whatever they could to quickly get back to going around and around the board.

6. The Vast - 4/10, played the game, didnt perform any antics, but they kept pointing out their vast amount of wealth  after getting hotels on the first row. Points lost for being a prick.  I will say, from time to time, I would get the over whelming feeling that I was falling. This wasn't a large issue until it happened to The Spiral and suddenly no one can seem to find the bathroom in petty revenge.

7. The Slaughter - 0/10, killed the pizza man. This provided two major headaches: a deadbody to deal with and the pizza being ruined from being dropped. Luckily, The Flesh found use for the dead body. As for dinner, we resorted to just munching on the snacks. Also, its really uncomfortable being threatened whenever they happen to land on your property and owe you rent.

8. The Corruption - 3/10, always brings rotten snacks covered in mold. Uses live bugs for pieces which aside from being gross is just not effective cause they dont stay still. How can I recall that their property has three houses when the peices are crawling on my wall? I also just think it is common courtesy to shower before coming over to game night.

9. The Hunt - 8/10, overly competitive but focused on the game and largely helped wrangle the others. Did keep making references to Wolf of Wall Street though which got old quick. It is worth mentioning that they also talked alot about their various hunting trips and buddies which was fine at first until they started describing a recent hunt that I think may have been my coworker who went missing last week.

10. The Eye - 2/10, cheater. Fucking. Cheater. I didn't even know you could cheat that many ways in Monopoly. Also they brought the lead pipe from a Cluedo board as their game piece and kept giggling when I asked why. Further, it is rude to pressure a trade deal by use of blackmailing. Had a lengthy argument about how technically you dont have to draw from the top of the Chance and Community Chest pile

11. The Buried - 8/10, dirt everywhere and I can't be certain but I think they made my chairs smaller? Maybe it was the table? I felt far too close to everyone. I will say they did mostly play the game but you will feel buried beneath your debt after landing on their property which... now that i think about it.. why was their rent so high? That can't be right..

12. The Web - 7/10, much like insects spiders are NOT a suitable game piece. Didn't technically cheat but managed to get ridiculous trade deals from everyone, especially The Spiral. The Desolation gave all their assests to The Eye to screw over The Web but.. to be honest the game is still going and I.. is it possible to have a stalemate in monopoly?

13. The End - 9/10, played the game but kept saying we should up the stakes by having losers die. I explained that this was the sort of game where if it goes on long enough, death is actually the preferred alternative. They understood and got really quiet for awhile. I think they are to blame for why I'm up past my bedtime. I'm growing afraid they'll all still be playing by next week.

14. The Stranger - 6/10, tried to pretend they were my mom. I know they arent my mom. So they taunted me bu saying they were my dad. This was effective as I don't know my dad. Asshole move. Also, would not stop commenting how dry my skin looked. Other than that, yeah actually played the game!

15. The Extinction - 0/10, when it was finally time for everyone to leave we all learned why Extinction had not shown up. Bad news, the outside world has been nuked. The good news is that I don't think I have to pay rent anymore. Or go to work. Oh god. What do I do about groceries?

[ghost-proofbaby]

when you know, you know. (e.m.)

summary: air hockey has never been so romantic.

warnings: it's alluded to that reader is wearing red lipstick. not edited.

pairing: eddie munson x reader

wc: 1.8k+

a/n: a very late valentine's day gift for you all (and eddie). also, the fact i've never written proper mechanic eddie... what a shame.

“Yes!” 

If any of the nearby children flinched, you didn’t notice. You were too wrapped up in your victory, going as far as to partake in a terribly embarrassing dance on your end of the air hockey table as Eddie shakes his head slowly. 

“You definitely cheated,” he deadpans, a twitch of a smile nearly giving him away as he leans down to pick the puck out of the slot below on his end, “There’s no way you’re about to beat me in under five minutes, again.” 

You smile, lips painted red under the lowlights of the arcade as you lean over the table and taunt him, “Or maybe it’s just a skill issue. I wouldn’t keep beating you if you were actually a professional in air hockey like you’d claimed, Munson.” 

Three dates – tonight makes four – and you still hadn’t quite worked out how you’d managed to capture the attention of the boy before you. When he’d originally asked you out to coffee, you’d swallowed down all your excessive excitement just to answer him. The local mechanic that you’d been making heart eyes at every few months when you’d go in for an oil check, the one who hadn’t allowed the others at the shop to oversell you on a damn thing when you’d get your tires rotated. Who always smiled shyly as he’d bring you back your keys.

You’d figured the coffee date would last an hour if you were lucky. The two of you would spend more than five minutes in the same room together, he’d realize how overbearing you were, and that would be the end of it. Ridiculous crush effectively squashed. 

But it hadn’t. 

It had lasted hours, plural. Coffees finished and second lattes nursed until they’d gone cold, the outcome had been the exact opposite of your expectations. Your conversation had flowed effortlessly, common ground and common interests found with ease, and suddenly, Eddie was more than just some cute mechanic for your friends to tease you over. 

The first date had only ended due to his shift at the shop that afternoon. 

The subsequent sushi dinner date, and then the movie night the next week, had also lasted hours. 

“For someone who works on cars, you should be a lot better with your hands,” you poke gentle fun at him as he makes the first hit against the puck this time, far more careful than you had been when serving. 

“Or maybe I’m just determined to keep letting my pretty date win.” 

“And why would you ever do that?” 

Another hit from your mallet, the sharp tapping of your aggressive push ringing out over the sound of nearby machines. You don’t dare to glance in the direction of the ruckus, but you’re pretty sure someone has just won an exciting amount of tickets based on the squeals of glee. 

“I dunno,” Eddie pauses to shrug after he hits the puck once more, his guard dropping. You’re ruthless as you take the opportunity to shoot the puck straight into ‘goal’ on his side of the table. A straight shot, far too easy for your liking, but you still celebrate the victory with another embarrassing dance, “Maybe it’s because I’m into that ridiculous dance they keep doing whenever they score.” 

You immediately stop your little jumps, eyes widening, a rush of embarrassment heating you up from the inside out as Eddie’s eyes stay glued on you. The table powers down as he makes his way around it, feet bringing him right to you. 

You’d always thought Eddie would find you weird, or odd, or unappealing after that coffee date, but the outcome had been better than you could have possibly conceived.

He was an absolute weirdo as well. 

Fondness overtakes his features just like it had on that coffee date when you’d accidentally snorted at one of his jokes, and your heart flutters eagerly. You can’t believe there had been a time you’d only watch him from behind glass, trying to not get caught as you would blatantly stare at him as he’d work on your car. A time when you’d only see his curls up in loose buns rather than framing his face as they were now, a time when you couldn’t even shake his hand due to it being covered in oil. 

That had all only been a month ago, but you already couldn’t imagine your life without Eddie Munson in it. 

“Don’t go shy on me now,” he chuckles as he stops in front of you, smirk deepening the dimples you’d only noticed on your second date with him. He’d been too bashful the first date, ducking whenever his grin would grow too wide on you, biting his tongue on half the flirtatious remarks you wished he would have said. “You won, fair and square, so what’s your prize gonna be, valentine?” 

He also waited until the second date to kiss you. That had nearly killed you. 

“It’s not very fair if you let me win,” you whisper, unable to look away from his eyes. They’re a soft brown, a smooth honey, a nice sight for sore eyes. You kind of like the crinkles beside them, too. Kind of wonder what it would be like to wake up beside him, roll over, and kiss them – all before the sun ever rose. 

He reaches out and gingerly grabs your hand, calloused fingertips brushing your knuckles before he entangles your fingers with his. “Psh, who said I let you win? Maybe I just really suck at air hockey.”

“You just-”

You never get to finish your argument. He’s quick to swoop down, capturing your lips in his. The rudest of interruptions, and it still manages to weaken your knees. 

Each kiss only grows sweeter. And more confident, more sure. The first one had been timid, exchanged on your doorstep with boyish hesitation and meek desperation. But now, several kisses experienced since that night, all apprehension has melted. He lets his lips meld to yours, captures your bottom lip just tightly enough to give it a brief tug when he pulls away. Still soft, ever so sweet, and leaving you wanting for more. 

Four dates. All it took was four dates for him to make you a goner. 

“Now, that wasn’t fair,” you breathe out, betrayed by the smile that you wear. Your chest feels shaken up, impending explosion of mushiness and flowers and hearts and every single cliche the love songs on the radio could squeeze out.

“It was your prize.”

“I never said I wanted a kiss for my prize.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he puts a dramatic hand up to his chest, leaning back so dramatically that your hand instinctively reaches out to loop a finger in his jean pocket to keep him upright, “Would you like me to take it back, my fair maiden?” 

Four dates, and he makes it impossible to not imagine a future of this. Of silly banter, of gentle mornings spent kissing away crows feet, of cutting one another off with the most infuriating of methods. You’re starting to believe you’re just a hopeless romantic, and he’d spotted that from a mile away – he knew every single button to press to have you putty in his hands, and he was taking full advantage of it. 

You giggle, an honest to God giggle, as you say, “Hm, I’m not sure. I heard the return policies on those are a bit wonky.” 

If your friends thought you were insufferable when he was some stranger you just had a crush on, they would be vomiting at the sight of this. 

He leans into your space, close enough to smell his faint cologne and mint on his breath, “Are they? Well, lucky for you, I’m friends with the shop owner. Can definitely accept the return without a receipt. It won’t be a problem, ma’am. I swear it.”

He’s weird. He’s goofier than you could have imagined, snarkier than you could have dreamed, and more romantic than you had yet to uncover. He’s kind of perfect, but you wouldn’t dare say that to his face. Not yet, at least. 

You’re glad you had said yes when he’d asked days prior for you to be his Valentine. And you’re glad he hadn’t gone the boring route, showing up with just chocolates and flowers and calling it a day, but had instead dragged you out to this arcade for a night of adventures as he claimed. 

“And how would one go about returning a kiss, kind sir?” 

He answers wordlessly, bringing up a finger to tap on his lips. He goes as far as pouting them dramatically. 

He wants you to kiss him. 

Lucky for him, you want to kiss him, too. 

Your kiss is more chaste. Teasing as you lift up onto your tippy toes and only press your lips to his for a brief second before falling back. You leave him wanting more – it’s written all over his face, along with a blush that races right over the bridge of his nose. 

He’s cute. He’s cute, and he’s weird, and you really fucking like him. 

“Now that that’s over with,” you have to change the topic, move right along before your heart truly bursts from your chest, “I know what I want my prize to be.” 

He takes a moment to recover, pupils almost resembling hearts as he stares down at you. Eventually he pulls himself from your trance, shaking his head as he asks, “And what would that be?”

You’re the one taking his hand this time. If he gave you the time, you’d like to learn each callous and scar by heart. Trace over them in the middle of night, when it’s just you and him in the darkness beneath your sheets. Memorize the way they feel as he explores every curvature of your body and figure out which of the roughest patches would brush against your most sensitive bits in a way that would make you arch your back right into him. 

The two of you haven’t even discussed if that’s where the night might lead, but you’re sort of hoping the luck in the air doesn’t run out. 

“There’s an awfully pretty ring in the case up at the ticket counter,” you muse, knowing damn well the ring was the ugliest thing either of you had ever seen in your lives, “Think you’ve got the tickets to spare?” 

His hand gives you a squeeze. Something not too tight, something perfectly comfortable. It’s only the fourth date, it’s only the first month – it’s only the beginning. 

“Anything for you, sweetheart,” he says, more earnestly than you’d expected, as he steals another kiss. 

You let him. You have this aching feeling in your chest that you’ll probably let him steal an endless amount from you for the rest of your life. 

When you know, you know. Or whatever the poets say.

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[kamaluhkhan]

I BET ON LOSING DOGS

ENVY — part ii of we'll write sins not tragedies

pairing: luke castellan x nemesis!reader (she/her pronouns) word count: 1.6k summary: luke is getting tired of keeping your relationship a secret, you get a new sparring partner, and silena beauregard wins a bet. warnings/disclaimers: jealous!luke, suggestive but no smut, biting + some blood bc of course author's note: i had to include some friend group shenanigans and silena x clarisse moments ♡ i'm imagining that this takes place during tlt/season 1 of pjo when the kids are on their quest, and the characters are slightly aged up to 20/21 years old....anyways, enjoy and feel free to reblog + comment :)

♪ "i bet on losing dogs" by mitski

"rumor has it that lee wants to ask her out." 

silena tilts her head towards the other end of the ping pong table, where you sit next to lee fletcher, a pair of wired earbuds and an mp3 player shared between you as everyone waits for the senior counselor meeting to start. 

luke clears his throat. “why would he want to do that?”

in theory, it shouldn’t bother luke: how you and lee nod along to music only the two of you can hear, how your shoulder presses against his ever so slightly, how he seems to lean into you even further. 

you and lee had always been friendly, but since when did you become such close friends?

“hm. let’s see. she’s strong, gorgeous, the right amount of dangerous, and perfectly single.” 

again, luke pretends that he doesn’t feel something ignite in the pit of his stomach. 

as far as everyone is concerned, you and luke are friends, too. 

the rush you both got from the whole secret relationship thing was fun, but, gods, sometimes luke wanted nothing more than to show everyone you were his and he was yours. 

“sounds like you’re the one who wants to ask her out.”

silena rolls her eyes. “please. i’m a happily taken woman.” clarisse turns to them as if she knew she’s been referenced. silena blows her a kiss before adding: “can’t really say the same for y/n, can we? i think her and lee would make a cute couple.”

chiron finally enters the room before luke has a chance to respond. he sits through the whole meeting, jaw clenched, hands curled into fists. 

throughout the day, luke reminds himself that he’s the one you’re with. and silena’s theory that you and lee would make a good couple?

ridiculous. laughable. unimaginable. 

later, during swordfighting, you and lee practice together. any time luke is leading a session, you usually pair up with silena, but she seems to have twisted her ankle. not enough to warrant a trip to the infirmary, just a seat on the sidelines. 

luke has no doubt that she’s trying to work her daughter of aphrodite, matchmaker magic. 

between teaching the younger campers, luke glances at the two of you, yours swords colliding and limbs occasionally intersecting. luke demonstrates a new technique, eyes sliding over to you, positioning yourself behind lee and correcting his form by gently adjusting his hips. something bubbles in the pit of his stomach.

gods, if he could switch places with lee fletcher.

you square up for another round, but the fight is over relatively quickly. even with the advice you seemed to have given lee, you manage to get him on the ground, straddling his waist while you point your sword at his chin. you smile down at lee, canines sparkling in the afternoon sun. 

luke remembers what silena had said earlier, about you — the right amount of dangerous.

out the corner of his eye, luke can see silena gazing dreamily at the pair of you, no doubt overjoyed that a new romance seems to be blossoming. 

overjoyed is certainly not a word luke would use for himself now, as you lift your shirt to wipe the sweat from your brow. for a split second, your entire torso is visible to everyone. including lee, whose eyes seem to linger on the tattoo on your ribs for a little too long.  

luke tells the kids to pair up and practice before walking over to your side of the arena. 

“hey,” you exhale, dropping your shirt and smiling at him.

luke doesn’t waste any more time, though, and crashes his lips onto yours. 

he thinks you start to melt into the kiss, but then you bite down on his bottom lip — hard. 

“ow!” he turns away to spit out some blood. “why did you —”

“you just landed me two weeks of extra laundry!” 

“i…what?”

 if silena looked overjoyed before, she’s ecstatic now, practically skipping over to where you stood, her ankle miraculously healed. 

“aha! i win — again! that’ll teach you to question a daughter of aphrodite, especially when it comes to matters of the heart.”

luke, slightly lightheaded, has no clue what is happening. things don’t get any clearer as chris, clarisse, and beckdorf join you. 

chris shoves luke’s shoulder. “bro, you just cost me 30 drachmas!”

“seriously, dude,” beckendorf shakes his head. “you couldn’t have kept it in your pants for, like, a few more days?” 

“okay, but lena totally cheated,” clarisse huffs, stabbing her spear into the ground. 

“what! how?”

“you used lee to make him jealous!” the boy in question waves at you awkwardly before walking off to the archery range. 

“i did not cheat. i had a strategy, and just needed to add some drama to move things in my favor,” silena reasons. “besides, all’s fair in love and war. i’m sorry you had to find out this way, baby. ” 

she plants a kiss on clarisse’s cheek, which does make clarisse’s lips turn up ever so slightly, despite the accompanying eye roll.  

“okay, is someone going to tell me what’s going?”

you sigh and swipe your thumb over luke’s bottom lip, wiping away more crimson liquid that had emerged thanks to your bite. 

“i found out a few days ago that our lovely friends placed bets on when we were going to tell them about our relationship.”

“wait….” luke looks around at everyone. “you all knew? since when?”

“the whole time.” you grin sheepishly. “apparently, we weren’t as subtle as we thought we were.”

“you weren’t subtle at all,” beckendorf corrects, hands fiddling with some spare bolts he kept in his pocket. 

“love is difficult to hide,” silena defends, like you’re her favorite couple on a reality dating show. “the amount of times you’d both show up late to the dining pavilion together, with your clothes and hair messed up was enough to give you away. not to mention, the way you look at each other.” 

“yeah, like two idiots in love,” clarisse mockingly agrees with silena, who jabs her in the ribs playfully. clarisse gestures to her orange camp shirt. “by the way, these aren’t designed to hide hickeys. there are children here to think of.”

“be thankful you don’t have to hear them on the roof of the hermes cabin every night. it’s a wonder any of us get to sleep.”

"oh, and then there’s the showering at weird times and then smelling like the same body wash —” 

“moving on,” you interrupt, much to luke’s appreciation. “when i figured out what they had going on, i wanted a piece of the action.”

luke looks at you, teetering the line between frustration and awe. “so, instead of telling me about this bet and finally having everything out in the open, you got in on it and kept me in the dark, just to get someone else to do your laundry?”

“you know how much i hate laundry,” you shrug. “besides, like you wouldn’t do the same if you had been in my position.”

“well….” you raise an eyebrow. “yeah. i would,” luke admits. 

despite everything, luke is a son of hermes. he’s pretty sure that’s part of why you love him: for his mischievous grins and vices that were woven into his dna, imposed by the fates themselves. the urge to gamble, steal, sneak around, all the lying — everything you couldn’t help but indulge in, as well. clearly. 

you smile, and pull the front of his shirt towards you, kissing him like you’re proving a point. if luke wasn’t so preoccupied, he could have heard silena squealing in delight. 

“ow!” you groan as luke bites your lip.

luke smirks. “karma,” he teases, relishing in how you pout for him.

“get a room,” clarisse grumbles. 

“preferably not in the hermes cabin, please,” chris cringes, and this time luke is the one to shove his shoulder. 

it’s a little too silent in the arena, and luke realizes it’s because you’d all just given them quite a show. a few campers were watching eagerly, while others didn’t seem to be phased in the slightest, only taking advantage of the lack of supervision to goof off. luke tells the campers to keep practicing; you tell your friends to give you and luke some privacy. 

“40 drachmas that they’ll break up at the end of summer,” chris offers, and luke really wishes that he’d shut up. 

“nah, i think it’ll be sooner,” clarisse adds. “maybe right after the solstice.”

“i don’t know, guys. i have a good feeling about this one,” beckendorf says. “i think they’re gonna last.”

“thank you, charlie. i think they’re soulmates,” silena muses.

luke watches as the corners of your mouth turn up slightly, listening to your friends as they walk away. 

“so.” he hooks a finger through one of your belt loops to get your attention again. “everyone knows.”

“everyone knows.” you smile at him. “so, what do you think, tiger? are beck and lena right — that we’re gonna last?”

he can sense that there’s something more behind your teasing inflection. you’re gnawing on the inside of your lip, discreetly picking at your nail polish. 

even with the front you put up, sarcastic and cutthroat and sharp as your celestial bronze knife, you still had a heart. and here you were, looking at luke like he had already stolen it, and you didn’t care. 

you were just waiting to know if he would break it. 

but, luke doesn’t have the heart to tell you how this is going to end. 

how could he? he’d given up his to you, years ago.

he can keep pretending, for now, so he will. 

“i’d bet my life on it.”

[janeyseymour]

Secrets

hi! so, an anon asked for this. i had a LOT of fun with this one, and i hope you enjoy! literally not edited in the slightest because this one wrote itself and i don't have time to read over 9k words.

summary: You're Ava's friend, and that is enough to make Melissa hate you. But then, through volunteering for different events through the school, the redheaded teacher finds that she's falling for you. You have money, not that anyone knows, and when the school desperately needs money, you anonymously donate a generous amount. Of course, the Abbott crew isn't satisfied with not knowing who donated all of that money, and they sure as hell intend to find out.

WC~9.4k

You grew up with a lot of money. You don’t even need this job- Daddy still has you covered and pays for most of your expenses, as much as you continue to tell him that you are perfectly capable of making it on your own. You have enough saved up from all of the ridiculous amounts of money you received from past birthdays, as well as high school and college graduation presents, not to mention the fact that you have a good portion of money invested into different stocks, and you’re doing pretty damn well for yourself.

Dad taught you all about personal finances when you were younger- he’s a successful day trader, but he’s always been on the financial side of business work to begin with, and Mom is a lawyer.

And while you had quite a lavish lifestyle, your parents still chose to reside in Philadelphia, and not necessarily the nice area of Philly either. But it was part of their story, and they wanted to stay close to their roots, so they raised you here. And growing up, you became close friends (maybe even best friends) with the one and only: Ava Coleman. She was your partner in crime growing up, and you never lost contact with her once you graduated high school.

You went off to school to pursue a career in education, much to both of your parents surprise- but they supported you in your decision.

(“I hope you raise the next generation to be smart,” Mom had told you. “Bring up some new lawyers for generations to come, yeah?”

“Teach those kids how to make it out alive like Ma and I did, got it kiddo?” Dad had joked with you, but you knew he was being serious.)

After years of teaching at one of the other public schools in the suburbs of your city, you decided that you wanted to come back to your roots. You miss Philly and all of the excitement that comes with it. You miss the odd odor that lingers in the streets, and the way that no one could give half a shit and jaywalked. You miss the way that you could pretty much walk anywhere, and within a few minutes you could be milling around Reading Terminal Market looking for some good eats. So you call your best friend for some advice.

“Girl, why didn’ you tell me sooner?” Ava asks you once you’ve explained to her that you want to come back to the city. “I own a school now, and I can for sure get you a job here.”

“Ava,” you sigh. “What the hell do you mean you own a school? Do you mean you’re the principal of a school?”

“Same thing,” you can practically hear your best friend rolling her eyes.

“That’s awesome,” you congratulate her. “How’d you manage that?”

“You know how I’ve been helping out at the Abbott elementary admin building with financials? Well,” she cackles into the phone. “I did some deep diving, and I found out that the super intendant of the district has been sleeping around- found hotel bills and everything on the company card for quickies. All I had to do was bring that up, and boom! I get a new title, a nice raise, and I own a school! I’ve been there for a couple months now, but there are more turnovers here than there were in the last Super Bowl, so I can for sure get you in.”

“A couple months? Has it really been that long since we last talked?”

“Since we actually caught up, yeah,” she sighs dramatically. “You and your fancy teaching job out in the ‘burbs. It ain’t gonna be fancy like that though, we don’ even got money for a proper librarian.”

“Remember, we grew up in Philly,” you remind her. “I know what it’s like. But can you really get me a job?”

“For sure,” she tells you. “With Summer coming up, I be knowin’ I’m about to get a lot of resignations from these people I thought were spicy White people but ain’t. The only spicy white lady here is Schemmenti- pretty sure she’s part of the mob, but I ain’t about to dig. We’ll have you join us next school year.”

“I highly doubt a teacher working in Philly is part of the mob,” you roll your eyes. “But if you’re serious, then yes. I would love to come work with you.”

“For me,” she corrects. “Just because we friends don’t mean I ain’t about to subject you to all of my bullshit at school- you get to deal with the full Ava experience in all its glory just like everybody else.”

“I’ve been subject to it for my entire life,” you laugh.

“I’ll reach out when I can officially accept your resume and offer you a position, but in the mean time… girl, when we getting our nails done?”

By some grace of God, Ava is able to keep her word, and you’re officially an employee of Willard R. Abbott Elementary School starting in August as a second grade teacher. You walk in arms full of boxes stacked so high you can barely see over them, not dressed in your fanciest clothes- you have a whole separate wardrobe when it comes to teaching. You know how this works- clothes will be ruined. Hell, some clothes were ruined at a nicer suburban school, so you know that some of your outfits will not be wearable by the end of the school year- or even the first week with the kids if you’re that unlucky.

“There you are, bitch!” Ava grins and runs over to you as you enter. She’s decked out in Eagles apparel, it’s all bejeweled in true Ava Coleman fashion. “I’m so happy you’re here- you boutta blow the roof off this place!”

You roll your eyes playfully but smile at her. “Can you just show me where my room is so I can start setting it up before we have to do our development activities?”

“Don’t you got people to do that for you?”

“No,” you shake your head. “I am fully capable of setting up my classroom myself- without people to move everything for me.”

“Lame,” she sighs. “I always like seeing the sexy movers your Dad hires for you.”

“I explicitly told him I didn’t want him to do that for me,” you tell her. “And I told him that if he sent people here to move stuff from my car, I would never be respected. I know how it goes around here, and so does he. So, here I am.”

The principal leads you down to your room. “All yours,” she grins as she unlocks the door.

You look around once you’ve set your boxes on the ground and bite your lip thoughtfully. You can make do with this space.

“Your team is Janine… annoying ass dork, and Melissa… mean Italian lady who is working for the mob.”

“You’re still on that?”

“Guilty until proven innocent!” Ava quips.

“You’re ridiculous,” you laugh. “Care to give me a hand with unloading the rest of the stuff from my car?”

“Girl, I just got my nails done, and you sure as hell know I don’t do manual labor. I’m the principal now- that shit’s beneath me!” She turns on her heel. “See you in the library in an hour!”

You report down to the gym a little before everyone else to get your bearings, and to beg your best friend to not make a huge deal about you being here- specifically requesting that she doesn’t speak anything of your family or the business. You have a relatively common last name, so it isn’t like anyone would hear your name and immediately know of your family either.

“I won’ say anything about your fam, but you sure as hell know I’m gonna let them know your my bitch and they shouldn’t mess with you.”

You sulk back to your seat, dreading whatever the hell Ava is going to say about your arrival at the school.

The rest of your colleagues make their way in and take seats in their designated seats, you still lingering in the back. This way, you’re able to see some new faces, and you wouldn’t want to take anyone’s unofficially assigned seat. Once everyone is seated you join them. You can immediately pick out a few of the names that Ava had thrown out over the summer. Janine is sitting with Gregory and Jacob, and the redheaded woman is clearly Melissa. Sitting next to her is who has to be what Ava described to as, “Melissa’s heterosexual work wife and life partner,” Barbara Howard.

The principal heads to the stage and starts her greeting in true Ava fashion- telling them all how much she wishes they weren’t here and she was still clubbing it up down at the shore, but she supposes it’s okay to see them again. And then she begins to introduce the new teachers- she, of course, saves you for last.

“And finally,” she breaks out in a grin and does a little dance. “we have Y/N. Listen up: this girl is my ride or die, and even one of you steps out of line towards her, and we gon’ have problems.”

All eyes turn to you and your red cheeks, but you give a small wave.

“Now, onto the boring stuff,” Ava sighs. She drones on about the new school year and what is going to (supposedly) pan out over the next nine months before she dismisses you all to prep in your classrooms for the remainder of the day.

You make a break for the door as soon as you can, sweater wrapped around you tightly even though it’s sweltering hot in the school- apparently Mr. Johnson still hasn’t fixed the air conditioning because he forgot which Boyz II Men song he assigned to the air system. As soon as you’re in your classroom, your sweater is off and you’re fanning yourself with a paper fan you had folded for yourself.

You continue to prepare for your students until you hear a gentle knock on the door. Who is standing there but Janine and Melissa.

“Hi!” Janine grins as she steps in. “It’s so great to have you as an addition to our team, and Melissa and I just wanted to stop by and introduce ourselves! I’m Janine, and this is-” She nudges the woman next to her.

The redhead just huffs and rolls her eyes. “Schemmenti,” is all she says.

“If you need anything at all, please don’t hesitate to come and ask one of us. My room is just down the hall, but lucky for you- Melissa’s room is right next door to you!”

“Don’t need anything,” the fiery second grade teacher warns you. “I don’t got time for someone who’s gonna leave in a few weeks.”

You’re somewhat taken aback by her abrasive personality, but you just smile instead. “Thank you,” is all you say once Janine has hissed out a quiet, “Melissa!”

“Did you need any help at all yet?”

“She don’t need help, pipsqueak,” Melissa rolls her eyes. “She’s got Ava on her side.” And with that, the redhead turns on her heel and leaves.

“Don’t mind her,” Janine tells you as she steps into your classroom a bit further. “She’s got a tough exterior, and she hated me too at first. But now, she’s like my work mom, with Barbara being my other work mom, of course. She even brought me lunch to make sure I eat today.”

“That’s very kind of her,” you say as you continue to set up your room.

“I like what you have goin’ on here,” your colleague nods her head in approval. “Nice and warm, kinda like my room! Well, I have to get back to my own classroom, but if you need anything, come on down! The price is right!” She laughs at her own joke before strolling down the hallway. 

Your first day at school is relatively peaceful, and before you know it, you’re allowed to leave. Of course though, you do plan on staying later because you have to finish up a few things before you’ll be satisfied with the progress you’ve made.

You see Melissa leaving her classroom, and despite not necessarily wanting to, you call out a gentle, “Have a good night, Melissa.”

She doesn’t say anything in response, just gives a short nod of the head in your direction before continuing on down the hall.

As you gather your things to leave for the day, Ava shows up at your door.

“So, we goin’ out for drinks?”

“I don’t think I can,’ you sigh. “I still have a lot of stuff that I have to prep for this, and I want to make sure it all gets done before the kids show up.”

“Girl, this would all be way easier if you just-”

“I don’t need any hired help,” you cut her off because you know exactly what she was going to say.

“Well then, I’m coming over,” your friend tells you, leaving no room for arguments. “It’s been too long since I seen you, or drank some of the good ass wine I know you have at your house.”

“Be my guest,” you chuckle as you sling your bag over your shoulder.

The rest of your development days are filled with boring meetings and time to prepare your classrooms. You find yourself a part of a committee to help with funding with a nudge from Ava.

“Girl, you don’t gots to tell them how you know all of this stuff about finances,” she tells you. “But it would be a big help to have someone like you on our team.”

“Fine. But if it gets out who I come from, I’m pulling out,” you point a finger at her. “I am not about to let my father get his hands on this and try to turn the school charter like he’s done before.”

She nods. “Whatever.”

The school year starts off strong. You’ve settled into your classroom, your kids absolutely adore you, and you adore them. You’ve spent some time with the other teachers in the school, besides Melissa, during preps, lunch duties, and recess duties. They all seem to like you, and you like them too.

Still though, you find yourself coming in early and staying late in order to get as much as you can together- you know once actual classwork starts to trickle in for you to grade, your plate is only going to get much more full. So any work that you can streamline and work ahead on, you do. The time where teachers are allowed to leave is upon you, and as much as you want to go home and take a nap, you know you really should stay and continue to work on lesson plans. Maybe you should start hanging up some of the work that your students have already done- their all about me posters and drawings. With a sigh, you gather the materials you’ll need to create a bulletin board and the footstool you keep in your cabinet and make your way into the hallway.

“Oi,” Melissa rolls her eyes as she closes her door for the night. “You know that working overtime won’t make you a better teacher.”

“I know,” you say softly. “But you know how it goes your first year in a new school.”

“Yeah, I don’t miss that shit,” the redhead huffs and starts to make her way down the hall.

“Have a good night, Melissa,” you call quietly.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t tell me what to do,” she tosses over her shoulder.

Wow. This woman was not easy to work with.

The next few days continue on like this, you staying later and later in order to stay on top of everything.

On Friday, you arrive early as you always do. While it’s casual Friday, and you’re allowed to wear jeans, you opt for a flowery sundress instead. It’ll keep your body temperature more regulated than a pair of stuffy jeans would. You know you aren’t doing anything where a student could accidentally destroy this dress either, so you think it’s a safe call.

As you enter the staff room to grab your lunch from the refrigerator, you hear the redhead’s low voice.

“You think you’re better than us, don’t you?” she challenges you, and you really don’t know why she’s doing this.

“Hm?” you hum as you grab your salad from the shelf.

“You think you’re better than us, don’t you?” she repeats. “Coming in here all cozy with Ava, wearing something or than jeans on casual Friday, already having bulletin boards up… you might’ve come from a nice school bonfire, but you’re here now- adjust.”

All of your coworkers’ eyes go wide at this unprovoked ‘fight’ you’ve found yourself in, and a few of them scold her. 

“What’s she gonna do?” Melissa fires out to Barbara. “Go tell on me to Ava and get me fired? Please.”

You bite your lip nervously before smiling tightly. “Have a nice lunch, y’all… and have a nice weekend if I don’t catch you before school’s over.” You leave the room with that and head back down to your classroom to eat your lunch while you pour over your lesson plans.

“Melissa,” Barbara sighs. “Y/N has done nothing to you, and you’re treating her terribly! There is no need; you are better than this!”

“Listen, she’s just another one of Ava’s minions who is going to reign hell on me during the school year. She already drives me nuts with the effort she’s putting in.”

“She may be friends with Ava,” Janine cuts in. “But I really don’t think she’s like her- she seems like she has drive and a true passion for our kids.”

“And that is what we need at this school,” the kindergarten teacher tells her friend. “We need people who are willing to put in the effort and love on these kiddos the way that she is. I already had Dante tell me during my lunch duty that he loves second grade because of her! Do not go tearing her down and forcing her out when we need more educators like her!”

“I don’t-”

“Melissa Ann Caterina Schemmenti,” Barbara pulls out the redhead’s full name, and Melissa’s eyes go wide at that. “Be nicer to the young girl. Give her a chance. You weren’t even this hard on Jacob and Janine when they first joined us.”

“And now you’re like my work mom!” the energetic teacher grins.

“You don’t even have to go out of your way to be nice to her,” the elder teacher says. “Just don’t be so harsh.”

“If I say sure, can we go back to eating lunch and talking about our weekend plans?”

Deciding that you’ve put enough hard work into this week and you’ll make sure you’re in here bright and early the day after Labor day, you grab your bag to head out on time and make the most of this long weekend. You close your door and begin to lock it just as Melissa makes her way out of the classroom.

“You’re not staying late tonight?” she looks at you with a raised brow.

“No,” you chuckle. “I figured that I deserve to have this weekend to relax after a hectic first week. But I’ll be back bright and early on Tuesday.”

“Mhmm,” the redhead hums as she fiddles with her door. “Shit,” she grumbles as she struggles to get the lock to turn.

“Do you want some help?” you ask her gently.

“I got it,” she holds up a hand. “I’ve been dealing with this damn door for the last two years. Mr. J will get around to it eventually.”

After watching her fight with the lock for long enough, you sigh and pull a bobby pin out of your hair. “Seriously, let me help.”

She steps aside, arms folded over her chest. Before you know it, you have her door locked, and you’re sliding the pin back into your hair.

“Thank you,” she mutters.

“Of course,” you smile at her shyly. “Hey, have a nice weekend.”

“You too, kid,” she tells you, and there isn’t any sort of bite behind her words. She isn’t smiling at you, but she also isn’t scowling at you.

Content with that conversation, you head for the doors and out to your car.

You make a pitstop on your way home into the Home Depot- you’’ just buy a new lock for Melissa’s door and install it on Tuesday when you get there. It’s a simple fix, and she doesn’t have to know it was you that did it.

The weekend is nice. You and Ava go out clubbing on Friday and Saturday night before nursing your hangovers on Sunday together. And then on Monday, you make your way over to your parents’ house with your partner in crime for the Labor Day barbecue they always hold. It’s a good time, as it always is. Your parents are happy to see the lively woman again, and they thank her for helping to get you back to your roots.

You’re back at Abbott bright and early- earlier than anybody else besides the janitor that lingers in the halls and doesn’t do his job.

“Good morning, Mr. J!” you greet him happily.

“Y/N,” he smiles back at you. “You have a nice weekend?”

“I did,” you reply as you make your way down to your wing. “And you?”

“Always a good time when you’re me,” he chuckles before continuing on his way humming a Boyz II Men song. 

You quickly drop your things off in your room before changing out your colleague’s crappy lock. You leave the new key in the hole so she has it, and then you settle at your desk to continue working on your lesson plans and preparations.

You hear her before you see her passing by your room to get to hers.

“Hey, good morning,” you greet her quietly.

“Mornin’,” she huffs. You’ve gathered that she isn’t much a morning person- at least not until she’s had her first cup of coffee and has watched the news in the break room with her friends.

You a hear a soft, “Huh,” come from her mouth as she notices there’s a new lock on her door. “Took you long enough, Mr. J.” She has no idea it’s you that changed it. Hopefully, this starts her week of well.

Your exchanges with the Italian lady in the room next door don’t much go beyond a good morning and a good night each day as the weeks go on, but she doesn’t frown at your mere existence anymore. If you squint, you can almost see a smile. The rest of your colleagues really seem to taking a liking to you, and you’re genuinely happy that you made the decision to come work here- even if it means putting up with your best friend’s shenanigans.

Everything is going swimmingly at work until one day Ava calls an emergency staff meeting at the end of the day.

Making your way into the library, you genuinely have no idea what she could have to announce so urgently. Apparently, neither do any of the other teachers.

“You’re close with her,” Melissa falls into step with you. “You know what she’s gonna say?”

“No idea,” you tell her quietly. “I’m just praying it’s not another pyramid scheme of hers. I can’t get her out of any more trouble with those.”

The redhead looks at you curiously, but you don’t say anything else. You don’t want to admit that when Ava finds herself in legal troubles, she usually calls your mother and she helps clean up the mess pro bono.

The two of you settle into the library chairs amongst the rest of your coworkers, but Ava is nowhere to be found.

“Good lord,” Barbara mutters. “This better be worth staying after. I’m going to be late to dinner with Gerald.”

Your friend enters the library looking rather frazzled. “Hey, y’all. Listen, I gotta make this quick because I have to get to a hair appointment, but I wanted you to hear it from me before word got around: the district is trying to cut our budget, and with our budget being cut, that means they’ll cut the arts programs. I know y’all don’t want that, so start coming up with ways to get us out this mess!”

Before anyone can ask any questions, she leaves.

“What the hell?” Melissa looks angry- like really angry. Her nostrils are flared, her eyes are wide, and she’s balling up her hands into fists. “Barb, you and me to the mall. I’m gonna need a new shakedown sweater.”

With no hesitation, the kindergarten teacher follows her work wife out of the school.

That night, Ava calls you.

“Girl… you know what we have to do,” she tries to convince you to let out your secret about your wealth.

“No,” you say for the millionth time. “We are going to fundraise, we’re going to get the money so that they can’t cut it… I’ll work with Janine and the budgeting committee to see where we can make small cuts here and there to scrounge up some more money… but I am not letting my dad get wrapped up in this and be in his debts. You know how he likes to hold stuff like that over my head, and he will turn Abbott charter if we let him get involved with this.”

You work tirelessly to come up with multiple fundraisers, different presentations to bring to the district offices, and work with the budgeting committee to make small cuts where you have a bit of wiggle room. You even tell them they can cut your salary by 2% if it means a little extra money- it may not be a lot, but it’s something that you’re willing to give considering your sizable bank account anyway. You do all of this, on top of continue to work in your classroom. You’re exhausted.

You volunteer for the events that you’ve helped to organize, and so have quite a few of the other teachers.

“We are not losing the arts program,” Melissa fumes multiple times a week. “I need my prep to keep my sanity.”

“Amen to that,” Barbara usually remarks after that.

“If it means volunteering a few hours here or there for these events, I’ll do it,” the redhead tells you when you hesitantly approach her crew about helping out.

So, here you are with Melissa at the art show.

The conversation is awkward and stilted for quite some time before she finally sighs.

“You’re doing good,” she tells you. “I haven’t seen a turn out like this in quite some time.”

“Anything for the kids,” you reply. “They need it.”

“Why here?” she finally asks you the question that’s been eating at her for some time- since the first day you walked in really.

“I grew up in Philly,” you tell her. “It was time to come back to my roots, and Ava offered me a position. The stars aligned for me, and I’m quite content in my decision to be back in a city school. I can help make a difference for these guys like some of my teachers did for me.”

“For someone who’s friends with Ava, you sure have a lot more heart than I thought you would,” she admits.

You smile. “Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

“How long you two been friends? Meet in college at the clubs?”

“Nah,” you laugh softly. “I grew up with Ava living a few houses down from me. We’ve been friends since I was the shy girl in the first grade who sat by myself at recess. Next thing I know, she’s next to me rambling on about whatever first grade drama was happening and telling me I was her girl. I still don’t know why she chose me to come up to that day. Maybe it’s because I actually listened to her. But we’ve been stuck together since that day.”

“You’re good for her,” Melissa tells you. “I haven’t seen Ava put in this much effort to something that doesn’t directly benefit her before. And I think it really does have something to do with you being here and leading a lot of it.”

“Thank you,” you smile again.

That night is where everything starts to change. Melissa slowly starts to show you the other side of her personality- the kind, would take a bullet for you if she had to side. You quite like it.

As the months go on, you still work tirelessly to put together different events to try to save the arts. Melissa even helps you plan a few, and she offers her “I know a guy” line when you’re looking for different ways to draw people in. The two of you begin to work closely in order to make sure that these events happen, and that they’re good. The redhead sees how hard you work and how driven you are. She respects it.

  You find yourselves chaperoning quite a few events- choir shows, band shows, a few school dances…

And while you’re at these events, the redhead sticks by your side through most of the nights. She finds that she quite likes being around you actually. She lets you into her personal life slowly. You tell her little bits about your life while still not revealing that you come from the line that you do.

She realizes that she’s starting to fall for you- and that terrifies her to no end. But she can’t quite pull herself away from you. Not now. Not after getting to know you and see how down to earth and honest you are with what you do- not after you’ve shown her that you’re here to stay and you’re going to show up for these kids in any way you possibly can.

Finally, the biggest event that you’ve planned, and your last attempt at hitting the quota to keep the arts program around for another year (you don’t even want to think about having to go through this charade all over again next year) is here. 

It’s another AvaFest kind of deal, but you’re able to utilize the outside part of your school grounds this year. Inside, there are smaller games, a few tables from local vendors, music provided by Janine’s ex-boyfriend. Outside though, is a whole other story. It practically looks like a carnival.

There’s a ball toss, a free-throw game, a balloon dart stand, a game to throw footballs through some holes, the dunk tank has been moved outside and a handful of teachers have volunteered to partake in it… all of the ticket stands and games are being run by various teachers and aides in the school. And the assortment of goodies around? Apparently, Melissa knows quite a few guys who participate in the food industry because you have a grilled cheese stand, a lemonade stand, a guy who’s making hoagies… she even knew a guy to come head a cotton candy machine for the event. And that’s not even naming all of the vendors.

You don’t have any assigned places to be because you’re overseeing that the event runs smoothly. So you’re milling about with your clipboard in hand, checking over the different stands. And while you expected Melissa to sit at the ticket table with Barbara, she follows you around and is your right hand man throughout the night. She checks in with the people that she knows, shoots the shit, and helps you solve any issues that arise through the night- not that there are many. You worked your ass off to ensure that everybody participating in this school wide event was compensated for their time and hard work.

“You really outdid yourself, hun,” Melissa comments quietly once you’ve found a moment to just stand and take it all in.

“Oh, I couldn’t have done it without everyone else helping,” you brush off her compliment. “You were a really big help, so thank you.”

“We all pitched in, but you’re the brains behind all of this,” she tells you. “Don’t sell yourself short. This jawn just might have to become an annual thing.”

“Oh, don’t remind me of what I’m going to have to pull of next year,” you groan playfully. “After this, I’m done with ideas for the year.”

“That ain’t true, and you know it. If something else comes up, you and I both know you’ll be the first one organizing something.”

“I know,” you sigh. But then you smile softly. “It’s all for the kids though. They deserve it.”

“They do,” she agrees. “And because of you, they’re gonna get it.” She gently hip checks you.

You blush and shrug.

“You got a real knack for this. If you weren’t such a good teacher, I’d tell you to go into professional party planning,” the redhead quips. She doesn’t know that you’ve been helping plan company parties with your parents for years now.

“It’s more a hobby,” you tell her. “I’m a teacher at heart.”

“A teacher with a damn good heart,” she corrects you.

“You think this is all gonna be worth it?” you ask her nervously. “Think we’re gonna hit the mark?”

“I’d put money on it,” she tells you honestly. “With the last events you’ve organized, and this one being our biggest success yet, I think we’ll exceed it.”

“God, I hope so.”

You don’t make enough money to keep the funding for the arts program. You’re devastated. Absolutely crushed. You burst into tears when Ava announces that bit of information sadly at the next staff meeting, rushing out of the room to try to compose yourself.

Melissa runs after you. You don’t really know why, but she does. 

“Hey,” she comes into your classroom, grabbing a tissue on her way over to you. She gently wipes your tears away. “We did our best. You did your best. And that… is enough.”

“It isn’t though,” you choke out. “We’re losing the arts program, and those teachers are going to be let go, and I-”

“I’m sure Ava will find somewhere else for them to be placed,” Melissa tries to comfort you.

“And- and we’re going to lose our preps, and… and the kids deserve to have the arts!” you cry. “When I was in school, that was my favorite part of the day, and now they won’t be able to experience that joy!”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way to incorporate it into your lessons,” the redhead tells you gently as she pulls you into a hug. “You did everything you could… but sometimes at the end of the day, life sucks.”

“It’s not fair,” you whine.

“Life ain’t always fair, hun,” Melissa reminds you. “But we do our best with what we’ve been given. And now, all the money that we raised can go into buying supplies for the kids next year.”

You sigh and wipe at the last of your tears. You take a deep breath. “Y-yeah. Okay,” you whisper sadly.

“It’s gonna be okay, hun,” she promises you. “And who knows, maybe a miracle will happen, and we’ll get to keep the programs.”

And just like that, her words give you an idea. You know how you can make a miracle happen. You have to contain your excitement as the thought pops into your head. The two of you return to the staff meeting where Ava is rambling on about who knows what, but you’re itching to get out of there.

Once you’re dismissed, you head back to your classroom, open up your laptop and log in. You check your bank account balances, and pleased with the numbers, you pull up the GoFundMe page that was up for the school.

“You’re stayin’ late again tonight?” Melissa knocks on your door, purse slung over her shoulder and sunglasses already on.

“Just a few minutes,” you look up and smile at her. “I have a few emails I have to respond to.”

“Alright,” she taps the doorframe a few times. “Try to have a good night, yeah?”

“I will,” you tell her. “You too, Melissa.”

“Thanks, hun.” 

With that, she’s off, and you can go back to what you were doing. You click on the “Donate Now” button without hesitation.

You donate the first $50,000, and then another $50,000 anonymously, and you absolutely beam when you see that you’ve hit your goal and then surpassed it. Satisfied, you close out of the tabs and close your laptop. Now, you just have to wait for tomorrow morning when Ava, the organizer of the fundraiser, sees the email. You know she won’t see it tonight- she’s off the clock.

A few hours later, you get a text from your best friend.

Hey, you still holding up ok? she sends.

I’m alright, you text back. So she hadn’t seen the donations yet. I’m drinking wine right now if you want to come over.

Girl, say less.

She’s over at your house in less than fifteen minutes, and it takes everything in you to not tell her what you had done. She heads home after finishing off the bottle, bidding you a goodnight and a see you tomorrow.

You sleep like a baby that night.

The next morning, you’re back in your classroom setting up your science experiment for the day when Ava’s voice comes over the intercom.

“Attention Abbott Elementary: there is a mandatory staff meeting, right now. Start heading down to the library. That means you, Schemmenti.”

You grin as you stand back up straight and make your way for the door. Right before you exit, you put on your best neutral face.

“Damn,” Melissa groans as she leaves her room. “Tell your friend not to call me out like that. I skip on meeting, and she’s all over me.”

“I don’t control what she does, and you know that,” you chuckle.

“What do you think this is about?” she asks you as the two of you make your way down the hall.

You shrug. “For all I know, it could be that she got a manicure and wants to show it off.”

The two of you find seats at your table, Barbara arrive a few seconds later.

“What on Earth could this woman have forgotten to tell us yesterday?” the kindergarten teacher huffs. “I have things to do!”

“I was setting up my science experiments for the day,” you grumble. “If this isn’t worth it, I’m making her set the rest of it up.” You know it will be worth it.

“Good morning, subordinates!” Ava makes it known that she’s entering the library. “I have some great news!”

Everyone silently urges her to go on.

“I have no idea who did this- sure as hell wasn’t me- but, we got some donations after school yesterday!” She projects the webpage up onto the screen.

Everyone gasps when they see how much money had been donated last night. To keep up appearances, your eyes widen, your jaw drops, and you well up with tears. Acting classes from when you were younger sure are paying off now.

“Oh my- Oh my god!” you shout, and Melissa is hugging you tightly.

“So, thanks to these very generous donations, we’re able to keep the arts programs up and running for at least the next three years!” Ava grins.

“Well, who donated?” Janine asks. “We have to find out so we can thank them!”

“Who cares?” Ava rebuts. “We got what we wanted! Now back to work, slackers!”

You stay in your seat, pretending to be in complete and utter shock while everyone else starts to get up. Almost every teacher comes up congratulating you and telling you that your hard work paid off. Melissa sits with you, happy as can be, and only reaffirming what everyone else is already telling you. Only once everyone else has left does she say anything else.

“Y/N,” she grins. “This is incredible. I told you your hard work would pay off. It’s a freakin’ miracle!”

“Y-Yeah,” you match her smile. “God, this is great.”

The two of you sit there for some time, chatting about how you could use some of the funding to buy more supplies and the likes until you remember you still have to finish setting up your science materials.

“Oh shit!” you whisper. “I- I gotta go finish setting up before the kids come in!” You take off in the direction of your room, and the redhead can only watch you as you go with a lovestruck look in her eyes.

When you’re halfway there, you hear Ava’s voice over the speaker again. “Y/N, my office.”

“Fuck,” you mumble as you halt sprinting down the hallway and turn to make your way down to her room. There was no way you would be able to finish preparing for today at this rate.

“This better be quick. I have to-”

“You donated that money, didn’t you?” Ava gets right to the point.

Your eyes widen. Your cover was blown with her, meaning it was going to be blown quickly among your colleagues as well.

“Well, was it?”

You nod subtly. “But please… don’t say anything. Please. I did it for the kids, and I have enough stashed away, and-”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” your best friend grins. “Why you think I didn’t say nothin’ at the meeting today?”

“You’re the best,” you sigh in relief.

“Don’t I know it,” the principal cackles. “Now, fo’ real. Come shoot an instagram video with me to announce that we met our goal.”

“Ava, I actually have-”

“I’ll tell,” she singsongs. “C’mon. We need our fearless leader and organizer to be part of the video.”

“Fine.”

The two of you finish the video about five minutes before the kids will start to show up, and you practically sprint back to your classroom to attempt the impossible task of finishing setting up.

When you get there though, Melissa is in your room just finishing up the last station.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you say quietly as you make your way into the room.

“Nah,” she shrugs. “But I wanted to. I got the time.”

“Thank you,” you grin.

“Noticed your coffee cup was empty too,” she notes. “So I made you a new one. Hope that’s alright.”

You walk over to your desk and take a sip of the warm drink. It’s perfect.

“Thank you,” you make your way over to her and squeeze her shoulder gently. “Seriously. You just made my day.”

“Nah, that mysterious donor did,” she chuckles. “But I’m glad I could help. Have a good morning, and I’ll see you at lunch?”

“Yes, ma’am,” you mock salute her. “Thank you again.”

You greet your children at the door, coffee mug and heart both full. Melissa greets her own students, but she can’t stop watching you. You’re just… so perfect. She knows she’s falling for you hard. Maybe at the end of the week she’ll confess her feelings- no, she will. She makes up her mind: she’s going to confess her feelings to you by Friday, if not before. She just has to work up the nerve to do it.

At lunch, the conversation is almost solely on who the mystery donor is. You play dumb, and you tell everyone that you’re just happy the school gets to keep their program from next to Melissa.

“I know a guy who could find out for us,” the redhead tells your colleagues.

“Oh, do it,” Janine grins. “That way, we can have our kids make cards and send them to the person to thank them! Oh my god- do you guys think our donor is Taylor Swift?! She does stuff like this sometimes!”

“She usually puts her name to it,” you chuckle. “But seriously, I think we should just be grateful. Ava and I already thanked the person on the school’s webpage and social media, and I think that should suffice.” You really don’t want to be found out.

“I already got the guy on the line,” Melissa rolls her eyes as she types away on her phone. “I’m gonna have to make a tray of ziti and some meatballs as payment though.”

You bite your lip. You really, truly pray that her guy won’t be able to find you out. But, her people usually come through for her… maybe just this once, they won’t be able to?

“Oi, Y/N,” Melissa taps your elbow gently.

“Hm?”

“We lost ya there for a second,” she tells you. “I asked if you would come over to help me make the food, since we’s in this situation because of your fundraiser.”

“Oh,” you blush. “Uh, sure. When?”

“You got anything goin’ on tonight?” she asks. You shake your head. “Then tonight. I’ll text you my address. Bring a bottle of wine.” At that moment, she silently promises herself she’ll talk to you about her feelings for you.

You nod and continue to eat your lunch quietly, letting the conversation around you continue as you continuously plead with the lord that they don’t find out it’s you who donated all that money.

You show up to your coworker’s house promptly at 5:30, like she asked, with a nicer bottle of wine in hand. You hope she’ll like it.

When she opens the door, you have to stop yourself from blushing at the sight of her. You’ve seen her at school, and you wouldn’t admit it to anyone else, but you find her attractive there. In the comfort of her own home though, she’s almost even more gorgeous.

“Hey,” she opens the door. “C’mon in. I got all the stuff ready.”

You enter quietly, offering her the bottle of wine. She pulls her glasses from off the top of her head and puts them on before inspecting the bottle.

“Damn,” she says. “You got good taste, but expensive taste.”

“I figured I could splurge for a celebration,” you offer up.

She leads you to the kitchen and pulls out two wine glasses before pouring some into each. Once you have yours in hand, she quietly raises her own in a toast.

“To this mystery donor,” she says quietly. You clink your glass with hers before sipping on the wine.

By the time all of the food is in the oven, the two of you have gotten through about three quarters of the bottle and plan to finish off the rest on her couch.

“This was nice,” you tell her quietly.

“Yeah,” she hums, but you can tell her mind is clearly somewhere else.

“Hey, penny for your thoughts?” you ask her. 

She hums again, still wrapped up in her own inner turmoil over telling you that she has a thing for you. 

“Mel,” you tap her gently, the nickname rolling off of your tongue for the first time. 

She snaps out of her trance.

“What’s goin’ on in that pretty little head of yours?” you ask softly.

She bites her lip nervously before whispering, “Please don’t hate me for this.” And then she gently presses her lips to your own.

Your eyes widen before you kiss her back just as tenderly. When you need air, you pull back.

“Oh, god,” she whispers.

“Hey,” you set a warm hand on her knee. And then you lean in and kiss her again so she knows that you aren’t upset with her; you don’t hate her.

“So…” she hums when you two part again. “I- I have a thing for you.”

“You wouldn’t say?” you tease her. “If it wasn’t clear, I like you too. I just didn’t think you would ever go for someone like me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she frowns. “You’re… you.”

“Yeah,” you laugh weakly as you run a hand through your hair. “I’m me. Shy, quiet, dorky… always working… friends with Ava.”

“Mm,” she hums as she shifts closer to you. “You are you: hard working, driven, down to earth, kind… heart of gold… gorgeous.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “C’mon, Mel.”

“I’m serious,” she tells you as she tucks a hair behind your ear. “I like you because you’re you… I tried to hate you so hard at the beginning of the year, and I just… couldn’t.”

“Oh yeah?” you ask her.

“Nope. From the moment I found out you were the one that changed my lock and fixed my door,” she admits.

Your eyes widen slightly at that confession. “You knew?”

“I thanked Mr. J that day, and he told me it wasn’t him,” she shrugs. “That he saw you come in early with a bag from Home Depot. I put two and two together.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you laugh. “You could’ve told me you knew.”

“There was never a right time for it,” she chuckles. “But I figure now is the right time to say thank you the way I wanted to then.” She kisses you again.

That night, the two of you talk over how you’re going to continue on with this little… situation you’ve found yourselves in. You’ll take it slow. You bid her a goodbye with a lingering kiss before climbing into your car and heading back to your house.

Sleep washes over you easily that night, content with what had just happened at Melissa’s. 

The next day continues on as it normally does, although when no one is around in the corner that your classrooms are in, the redhead will sneak into your room and kiss you passionately. She’s found that she quite likes kissing you, and you don’t mind one bit. She hasn’t heard any news from her guy, and you feel like you’re in the clear. They won’t find you out. 

But come the following day, as you’re sitting in the break room with Janine, Gregory, Jacob, and Barbara, the redhead comes storming in.

“You!” she points a finger at you. In her other hand is a stack of papers.

You practically jump out of your skin when you hear her booming voice. “Me?” you whisper.

“When the hell were you gonna tell us who you really were?!”

“Melissa,” Barbara furrows her brows. “It is too early for this.”

“No, I think now’s a great time for this. When the hell were you gonna tell us that you were the donor?! When were you gonna tell us that your Y/N, daughter of one of the most famous day traders and one of the most prestigious lawyers in the area?!”

You turn bright red, and you can’t help the tears that spring to your eyes.

“What?” Janine gasps. “Melissa, you have to-”

“See for yourselves!” She throws the papers in her hands on one of the tables.

The rest of your friends gather around to look at the papers. There’s a screenshot of the transaction with your name, and then there are a few papers from an article that ran a couple of years ago about one of your dad’s parties and being able to secure a deal. In the image, you’re in the background drinking a glass of wine next to your mother. They all look to you with wide eyes.

“Wow,” Jacob whistles. 

“When the hell were you gonna tell us?” Melissa asks you again. “You know the trouble I had to go through to get this information? How much deep diving I did once I saw your name? You coulda saved me a trip to the grocery store and hours of cooking and cleaning if you would’ve just fessed up!”

“I- I’m sorry,” you whisper as you wipe at your tears and make your way out. You head back to your classroom, coffee abandoned at your seat, and lock the door. You keep it locked despite the various knocks that come and go to check on you after your quick exit. 

“Melissa,” Barbara tries to calm her friend down. “I know you’re frustrated that you went through all of that effort, but… Y/N was doing it out of the goodness of her heart, and she clearly didn’t want to be found out.”

“I know,” the redhead sighs once her fire has died down a bit. “I was too hard on her, wasn’t I?”

“I’d say so,” the kindergarten teacher admits.

“Shit,” she mutters. “I gotta fix this.”

You only unlock it when you know it’s time for your students to start arriving, but you don’t dare go stand at your door like you usually do. You don’t want to face Melissa- not yet. You don’t think you can. You’ve only just started to explore what could happen between the two of you, and you’ve already ruined it by not telling her who you were. You avoid her for the morning.

Come lunchtime, you don’t even bother to head into the break room. You just suppose a granola bar from the stash that you have in your room will have to suffice and hold you over until you can go home today.

You lay your head down on your desk- it’s pounding because you didn’t get to finish your caffeinated drink.

You hear her boots against the floor before you can see her. You think she’s just going to pass by your door and head into her own room, but she stops in your doorway. In her hands, she has a mug full of coffee, your lunch, and dozens of handmade cards from the students.

“Hey,” she says gently.

You don’t answer. She makes her way into the room and sets everything on your desk before she makes herself comfortable.

“Eat,” she instructs.

“Not hungry,” you shrug.

“Then at least drink the coffee I made you,” she tries. “I know you get headaches when you don’t have enough caffeine in your system.”

You shrug. She raises her eyebrows though, and you meekly reach for the cup. “Thanks."

“The kids all made you cards,” she tells you gently. “Thanking you.”

You look at them with a sad smile.

“The staff put some cards in there too.”

“That’s nice,” you say numbly.

“C’mon, hun,” she sighs as she lays a warm hand on your shoulder. “This stuff normally makes you happy.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, resigned. “But I fucked up. I didn’t tell you who I was, and now you’re mad at me, and I probably ruined whatever we have goin’ on here. I’ll pay you back for the money you spent on the food by the way.”

“No need for that,” she waves you off. “Was I pissed when I saw your name on that paper? When I realized who you actually were? Yeah. A little. But… you single-handedly saved our arts program. You organized all of the events, and then when that wasn’t enough, you donated so much that we get to keep that program for at least the next five years.”

“Yeah, for the kids,” you sigh. “It’s all for them.”

“And besides,” she chuckles quietly. “If I didn’t have to make that food, I probably wouldn’t have kissed you that night, I woulda found out who you were before tellin’ you how I felt, and then I really would’ve been pissed with you, and what we have going on here wouldn’t have happened.”

You shrug. “I ruined it though.”

“You didn’t ruin nothin’. I’m not mad anymore, and I’m sorry I was as hard on you as I was,” she promises you gently. “I still like ya. I still wanna see where this goes, if you do.”

You look up at her, glassy eyes and all. “Really?”

“Yeah, hun. If this showed me anything, it’s that you’re a really good person, and I made a really good choice fallin’ for you.”

You blink a few times in disbelief. So you didn’t ruin this. You still have Melissa in your life- she doesn’t hate you.

“Do you wanna see where this goes?”

“I do,” you say softly.

Her lips meet yours, and you only part when you hear a collective gasp from the teachers who had quietly followed Melissa down to ensure that she wasn’t going to cause any fights.

The two of you pull back, cheeks red.

“Uh, surprise?” you say nervously.

[metalheadsforblacklivesmatter]

Why not make this because I'm just a filthy commie.

My thoughts on Disability (getting paid because you can't hold down a job due to your disability).

Social Security Disability Insurance (SSDI) and Supplemental Security Income (SSI)

It should at least be minimum wage. (And minimum wage should cover average cost of living in that region.)

Housing, electricity, and plumbing should just be covered. Also accessible transportation.

Medical costs should be covered. 100%

It should supplement food (and restrictions shouldn't be so limiting to the point where people with food allergies can't eat)

You should not lose any amount of your disability just because you make a little income (if you can't make enough to live off of or hold down a full time job due to your disability, you should qualify)

Marriage should have zero impact on your disability.

You should be allowed to own a home (why the fuck can't you own a home? That's dumb shit.)

It should cover any changes that you need to make to your home to make it accessible.

If you rent a place and you suddenly get a short term disability (like cancer). Your apartment should be covered until you recover.

If you rent a place and you suddenly get hit with a long term disability (like long covid or certain types of cancer) and you have to be moved (like if you're renting a condo for $1million a month. It's a bit of an exaggeration but it gets the point across for its reasonable to not expect the government to cover that). Then moving costs should be covered.

Before the capitalists (derogatory) come in my comments "You're just mad because you're too dumb to work so you want free shit." (Because they always do when I post a commie take).

I am disabled, and I have a full time job that pays me quite well (and is very accommodating to my disability). I just don't think people whose disability are more limiting than mine should suffer. Especially because every single disabled person knows that stress exacerbates symptoms.

Like the stress of being forced to live off what is the equivalent $2/hr for full time work, being forced to find a living space that covers that, and trying to find food you're allowed to eat on supplemented income with dietary restrictions (because most disabled people have to eat what most people consider "unhealthy" to manage our disability).

Before capitalists (derogatory) say "Your disability doesn't make you eat unhealthy food". You just want an excuse to eat junk food. People with cystic fibrosis often require calorie counts similar to Olympic athletes because they can't digest food right. People with POTS often require ridiculous sodium intakes to help manage the symptoms of low blood pressure. And people with migraines often need high carb "junk foods" to help manage the low blood flow that comes with a migraine flare-up.

The disabled body is fucking WEIRD and what's healthy to most people isn't necessarily healthy to us, and we've found our ridiculous ways of eating through trial and error to find out what best helps us function. If you don't live in our body, you can't tell us what's good for us.

-fae

[eddieandbird]

Answer the Question—

You and Eddie get interviewed and talk about your relationship.

Part 1 | Part 2

tags/warnings: fluff | 2.9k words | f!reader | rockstar!eddie

———

Eddie’s crooked smile was illuminated by the dim yellow light of the hotel room and that was about the only thing you could see in your haze.

“To us getting hitched. Cheers, sweetheart,” He said, severely underestimating your lack of coordination.

Your distorted vision paired with your poor reaction time didn’t allow you to correctly tip your wine glass to his beer. He continued anyway, pushing the glass right out of your hand and onto your dress.

“Aw, dammit! Look what you did,” You whined, uselessly patting at the crimson stain.

“It’s not my fault you’ve got butterfingers,” He grumbled, unsteadily hovering as he pointed to you.

“You’re such a dick,” You huffed, rushing to the bathroom to assess the damage.

You were much more of a mess than you thought. The formal up-do you had was holding onto your hairpins for dear life and your mascara had morphed into dark circles around your eyes.

Despite the rough state you were in, Eddie refused to leave you alone, especially when he felt guilty for ruining your dress. You tried to push him away as he attempted to interrupt you studying your reflection, yet his hands still found a way to get to you.

“C’mon, let’s take this off, huh?” He took the top hem of your dress in between his fingers and tugged on it lightly.

“No, I feel so gross,” You slurred, stomping petulantly in place.

“That’s why we’re getting you out of this thing, you brat. Just let me help,” Eddie scoffed.

He slowly unzipped the back of your dress, revealing your back. He paused, a lump forming in his throat as he drank in the sight of you. He'd seen you in tank tops and even a bikini once before, but seeing you nearly naked in front of him made him nervous.

He swallowed as he took a step closer to you, gently nudging you away from the mirror. "You're not gross. Don’t be ridiculous," he whispered, his eyes glued to you protectively.

“Oh, please. You’re just saying that because you’re my wife, huh?” Your brows were knitted with your eyes barely peeking open.

“You’re my wife, stupid,” He snickered at your verbal mistake. He couldn’t tease you too much for the slip up considering he was the one struggling to get your dress off, a bathrobe on you, and lay you gently on the bed without dropping you.

“Whatever,” You stuck your tongue out at him.

All his drunken hard work was for nothing as you just as quickly shed the bathrobe, tossing it over the bedside lamp and climbing into the covers.

Eddie took a moment to take in the sight of you in just your underwear, his heartbeat quickening at the thought of being so close to your nearly naked body. He quickly stripped down to his boxers and climbed into bed next to you, pulling the sheets up.

He moved closer to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer to him. "Go to sleep, idiot," he sighed affectionately.

“You suck,” You quipped, playfully biting his hand as you watched it hover over you and rest right at your collarbone.

”Um hello? Did I lose you somewhere?” Eddie waved his hand in front of your face, making you blink rapidly.

“What? No- I mean yes! Sorry, what are we talking about?” as always, you were frazzled when you woke up from your daydream.

“God, you’re impossible,” he scrubbed his face in his hand. “I was asking you if we should say we went on our first date before or after you became my manager,”

“After. I think it’ll sound better,”

He rolled his eyes. It was the right answer, however, he could just tell you were only halfway there physically. The amount of times Eddie has caught you completely spacing out since your wedding night was becoming concerning.

“You’re about to do your first televised appearance as my wife, could you please act a little less like a zombie?”

“Cut me some slack! I don’t typically do public speaking, I’m terrified!” You squeaked.

Eddie scoffed, readying a quip to give back to you, but quickly dropped it. Instead, he hooked his arm around your shoulders and pulled you into a hug. For a split second, you considered pushing the gesture away, but similarly to Eddie, you gave in and returned the embrace.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. I guess I’m just a bit nervous too. I don’t want to embarrass you or whatever,” He muttered.

A pout crept up on your face as Eddie let himself slip into vulnerability again. “Hey, it’s alright. You’re really good at these interviews. You’re a pro at this point, I can’t imagine you letting me down,”

You applied a few comforting pats on his back. Eddie leaned into your embrace, taking comfort in the way you wrapped your arms around him.

"Thanks," he mumbled, his voice muffled in the crook of your neck. "You're right, I just..." He took a deep breath. "I don't want to screw this all up."

He pulled back slightly to look at you, his eyes flitting across your face. "But I know I can count on you to have my back, right?" he asked, a hint of vulnerability in his voice.

“Always, rockstar,” You nodded before scooping his hand into yours.

“Mr. and Mrs. Munson, we’re ready for you now,” A stagehand popped into the green room to say.

In unison, you and Eddie both took a deep breath. Your hands remained linked as you stood up and began your journey to the back of the stage. Once there, the both of you instinctively got into your typical warm-up positions that you’d get into with the band; flicking out your wrists and articulating your faces to relax the muscles. Eddie couldn't help but feel reassured by the sight of your linked hands and your shared warm-up routine. He was grateful for the familiar ritual, something that felt like a small tether to the life he was used to.

“Break a leg, Munson,” You saluted him.

“You too, Munson,” He shot a smirk back.

With a final deep breath, he patted you on the shoulder before stepping on stage to the sound of applause and cheers. You and Eddie came out with your heads held high and your hands attached. With a few waves and blown kisses to the crowd, you sat on the set couch in front of the interview host, Jessica Terry.

Her first set of questions was pretty light. They were all surface-level and predictable; Where did you meet? How long you’ve known each other? You almost felt like it gave you a false sense of security because it wasn’t long until Jessica asked a harder-hitting question.

“Why did you wait so long to tell the world about your relationship?” The host asked.

That was the question that burned the hottest in the minds of spectators. Even though you and Eddie had spoken in great detail about how you wanted to answer this, you couldn’t help but feel like there wasn’t enough discussion to fully prepare each other. You swallowed your anxiety and let him take the lead.

Eddie was in his own head as you looked at him to answer. Even with a pre-made script in his head of how he should go about it, he still felt like something was missing. He had a strong desire to speak from his heart.

He cleared his throat before he said

“The obvious answer is for our privacy, but I think it might be deeper than that. When you have something special like love, you can’t help but want to keep it all to yourself, if only for a little while. I wanted to make sure what I felt wasn’t just a small rose bud, but a whole blooming garden before I got to make a whole bouquet out of it,”

Your jaw involuntarily dropped but you lacked any words to say. It was the most eloquent thing you’d ever heard him utter. An unfamiliar ache in your chest came crashing onto you in powerful waves. It now made sense why he refused to speak about his feelings for you before. He laid it out plainly for you and the whole room to hear. You startled yourself as you felt tears beginning to roll down your cheeks.

“Sorry, I um- I get really emotional when he talks like that,” Your voice strained through the tightness in your chest as you dabbed at your face with your knuckles.

Eddie's heart practically stopped as he saw the tears stream down your cheeks. He knew he was laying it on pretty thick when he spoke in such poetic terms, but he didn't expect it to impact you so deeply.

He reached over and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, gently squeezing it. "Hey, it’s alright," he whispered.

Jessica smiled at your apology, touched by the sight of a rockstar known for his wild antics getting all soft and sentimental in front of the cameras.

“Don’t be embarrassed, Mrs. Munson. We all find your guys’ story to be inspiring. It’s obvious that you love each other very much,” The host offered a sympathetic smile and claps to encourage applause from the audience.

She mentioned that dreaded four-letter word and for a moment you forgot to keep up the etiquette around speaking to the interviewer and the audience. Your eyes were set on Eddie, looking a bit vacant as more pieces began to connect in your mind. He nodded at you, silently communicating that you needed to continue.

“Yeah, you’re right, Jessica. I do love him. I love him a lot,” Saying it caused your voice to tremble subtly, but the nodding of your head reinforced it.

Your sickly sweet response was enough to fool everyone in that room except for Eddie. His brain felt like it was on fire. He couldn’t tell if you were being an amazing actress for the sake of your precious plan or if there was any truth to your words.

He knew you well enough to tell that something was off. Your words felt too genuine to be entirely fake, but at the same time, there was something else in your tone. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on. He was eager to ask why the hell you were crying and saying all these things, but for now, he was locked into this interview with no way out. He had to act like this was all some romantic moment between the two of you.

“I love you, too. More than anything, I love you,” Like a child would do with their favorite toy, he took your hand in his and pressed it to his chest. His heartbeat vibrated against your palm and it caused your own heartbeat to be just as erratic.

The audience let out a collective "aww" at his declaration. Eddie's heart skipped a beat at the feeling of your hand, the rapid beating of his heart almost as fast as the thoughts racing through his mind. The host, sensing the sincerity of the moment, wrapped up the interview quickly, leaving Eddie and you alone for the first time since you stepped on stage.

As soon as they called cut, Eddie practically dragged you behind the curtain, away from the prying eyes of the crew and cameras. Your legs struggled to keep up with his frantic movement.

“Hey! Slow down, you know I can barely walk in heels. You’re gonna make me break an ankle-”

“What the hell happened out there?” Eddie halted your half-hearted complaint with a more pointed question.

A shrug was accompanied by your sheepish, wide-eyed look. “What do you mean? I think it all went great. I mean the crowd was practically eating out of the palms of our hands,”

“Oh cut the shit, would ya?” he gave an exaggerated sigh. “You think I didn’t notice the way you looked at me out there? All smitten and shit while you said you loved me,”

You wanted to take a step back, but his arm snaked around your waist and yanked you to him.

“Please don’t make me feel crazy. That look meant something, right? Don’t tell me it was part of the act,”

“That look? I mean-” You stuttered.

This should have been easy to deny. You should have been able to laugh it off, but your inability to lie to him came in when you least expected it.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” You sighed, hanging your head in surrender.

"Don't give me that!" he snapped, pushing you closer to him. "I saw you crying out there, and don't think I didn't notice you spacing out in the green room before the interview.”

He took a deep breath, trying to keep his cool. “Just tell me. What the hell is going on with you?”

“I don’t know. I know that’s probably the last thing you want to hear, but that’s the truth,” Your eyes widened like a scolded child’s.

“You have to understand how confusing all this is for me. We got married one night and the next day you’re telling me I need to pretend I love you, so I do it. I do anything to be a good manager and a good friend, but now I also have to be your wife for the cameras and you tell me you have real feelings for me and I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel,”

You two were silent for a moment, the only noise to be heard was the chatter outside and your heaving breaths. What tethered you to this moment was his golden brown eyes locked onto yours, both of your faces now mere inches away from each other. Eddie took his hand and traced your collarbone to your shoulder before pushing your hair behind it. From your shoulder, he dragged his fingers down your arm and connected his hand to his.

“I don’t care about how you think you’re supposed to feel… What do you actually feel? How do you feel about me?”

His request hung in the air like thick smoke. You couldn’t escape those questions for much longer, not when he had his hands on you like this. You could feel the heat from the crimson flush blooming on your cheeks.

“Eddie, please don’t-”

“Answer the question,” He deflected your plea.

Your tea kettle of emotions was finally whistling with steam. “Fine! I’m in love with you, okay?!”

You shocked him with your outburst. His mind struggled to process your confession. He knew deep down that you couldn't have just been putting on an act during the interview. He searched your face for any sign of dishonesty, but the flush of your cheeks and the way your eyes flicked between his own told him everything he needed to know. You were telling the truth.

“Don’t just stand there, Eddie. Say something,” You demanded quietly. He stood motionless. He could hear you, but he couldn’t do anything.

“Hey… Hey!” You swatted at his arm repeatedly, desperately trying to get him to say something. “This is your fault. It’s all your fault,”

It was just to get a reaction out of him, but it still didn’t prevent Eddie from scoffing into a chuckle under his breath.

“It’s my fault? My fault that we got married?”

“It’s your fault that I fell in love with you,” You pushed his shoulder to create distance, but all he did was grab hold of your hand again.

He took a step closer, closing the gap between the two of you once again then ran a thumb over your bottom lip. "Let me get this straight. You're saying falling in love with me was entirely my fault?"

You nipped at his thumb to get him to move then stuck your tongue into your cheek.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. It’s your fault that you’re a pain in my ass but at the same time, the most incredible person I’ve ever met,” The fight in your voice died down as you finished your sentence. “You’re messy and annoying and charming and sweet and—“

“Mhm, mhm,” Eddie nodded almost condescendingly. “So when’s the part of your rant where you shut up and kiss me?”

“You really suck, you know that?” You shook your head with a wide grin of disbelief.

He began leaning toward you, his head dipping down to capture your lips with his. His teasing demeanor quickly faded as he kissed you. The initial soft pecks slowly turned into something deeper and more passionate as he held the back of your neck. He took a step forward, pressing you up against the wall and trapping your body with his.

Then the sudden sound of the curtain swooshing open startled you and Eddie, breaking your kiss.

“Ugh, gross. There you two are,” Gareth’s voice dripped in his disgust as he discovered the both of you.

“Dude, what the hell?” Eddie angrily gestured to his bandmate.

“I’ve been looking for you guys everywhere. We gotta get on the bus if we wanna make it to the next show. Let’s get out of here!” He lightly smacked Eddie’s cheek.

You could tell Eddie could beat the shit out of Gareth for interrupting the moment. You tugged on his arm and gave him a glare that said ‘Behave,’.

“He’s right, rockstar. We gotta go,” You smiled with your nose scrunched before leading him out.

[writervaul-t]

something about you

chapter three: friends?

summary: the start of fake dating is going well but [name] thinks they should go further.

pairing: modern!benjicot blackwood x f!reader

note: definitely filler chapter vibes but this is important to the plot i promise babes 🤞😫

masterlist | playlist

If looks could kill, [Name] would surely be dead. Since her lecture started 2 hours ago, she could feel someone staring at her. She did her best to figure out who it could have been but the lecture hall stretched too far to the point that people on the other side were essentially too small for her to see if they were even looking across the way.

She should have gotten used to this by now but she still wasn't. It had been days since her and Benji started "dating" and going out in front of the public. They had developed a routine; he would pick her up after work and her night lectures since he didn't have class around those times and take her to wherever she needed to be for that day and then walked off.

It seemed to have been fooling everyone. From the amount of people that would come up to her and pester her about what they were and how they even got together ("Do you think they'd buy into the idea you asked me out at the store?"/"Definitely."), they had managed to get everyone to think they were an item. Regardless, the treatment of being near invisible to being known by name had made her a little unnerved.

She did her best to seem unbothered by the newfound attention, the boring drolls from her Research Methods professor an open distraction. She focused on the class, making sure to note what confused her and that she had to review after she gets home today.

When the class had finally finished, [Name] had walked texted Benji quickly that she would take longer to go out before walking down to talk briefly about an assignment with the professor. It was a simple question but per usual, it had almost turned into a mini lecture where he had to explain his answer from the beginning. She could have fallen sleep there, had she not heard someone call Benji's name.

She glanced back, spotting Benji waiting from inside the classroom. He stood by the door with a crowd of people, talking animatedly. He must have made a joke when some people had laughed so loud, it echoed through the chamber. An easy going smile was on his face, though [Name] can tell it was more practiced than anything.

He looked down to where [Name] stood with the professor. An amused look crossed his face as he spotted the professor before pointing at the seat closest to him and waving to the crowd as they left before going on his phone. [Name] continued to nod along with the professor before finally feeling relief when he ended the conversation.

She had practically ran up the stairs, meeting Benji's gaze and smacking his shoulder lightly as they walked out. "Don't laugh."

"Why? Its funny watching someone practically nap standing up." Benji says, grabbing her bag off her shoulder. He looked ridiculous; the pinkand cream backpack contrasting greatly against his dark attire. [Name] had told him multiple times he didn't have to grab it from her, but Benji insisted.

"I'd do it for my real girlfriend so I'll do it for you." He argued again and again.

"Professor Dondarrion is such a bore." [Name] grumbles as they make their way outside. "All I asked was how to run a function on the system and he went all the went on and on about something else!"

"Yeah, that's why you get rid of Research Methods during your first year," Benji advises, grabbing her hand and lacing their fingers together. She could feel the cold metal of his bracelet pressing against her skin as they walked. "Professor Martell is only available to first and final years here but makes the class interesting. Not to mention she's hot--"

"Nice way to remind me you're still just a man." [Name] countered, though she was more amused than anything else. Most of their walks together always consisted of Benji cracking some kind of crude joke that made [Name] cringe or laugh before they would run out of things to say and walk in silence together.

The first few days were nearly unbearable; the awkward silence and the fear of saying something offputting was enough to keep [Name] from doing or saying anything too damaging. Benji had been the first to break the tension when he had slipped on the wet pavement by her apartment. She wasn't sure she had laughed as hard as she did that day.

Still, some things felt missing but she hadn't had the chance to bring it up or was even sure if she wanted to bring it up. She was definitely sure Benji knew too; after all, he was a lot more perceptive than he led himself to be. Maybe he didn't know how to bring it up either. Regardless, if they felt something was off, they need to address it before it goes too far.

She tugged Benji's hand when they reached the crosswalk, directing themselves to the opposite way of either of their apartments. "Let's go somewhere before we head home." She only offers up. Benji goes along with it, letting her lead him to one of the overnight diners, King's Harbor.

Benji eyed the restaurant suspiciously. "Don't loonies only come in here?"

"Yes, you're looking at one right now." [Name] jokes quietly as she pulls him in. The diner was small, the inside seemingly taking them back into the 60s with the signature red and white leather chairs and a jukebox that hadn't worked in ages. Old posters of movies [Name] couldn't recognize besides Rosemary's Baby hung around in places where LED lights weren't swirling about along the walls.

"What a sight to see!" Yelena Hull calls out from behind the counter. "You're usually here past midnight, dove."

[Name] smiled. "Ah, well, I wanted to take my - ah..." She glanced at Benji sheepishly. "Benji to the diner."

"I'm her boyfriend." Benji states matter of factly, earning an elbow to the stomach by [Name]. He gave her an innocent look. "What? I am."

Yelena looks over at Benji, a smile breaking out of her face before turning to [Name]. "Well, lets get you and your Benji a seat!" She ushered the two to a corner table, just below the Rosemary's Baby movie poster. "Your favorite seat. And first good luck!"

Yelena sent a wink toward [Name], who covered her face in embarrassment as she walked away. "You'll have to excuse Yelena; I'm probably one of the only ones at the diner that doesn't disrupt her graveyard shifts."

"Why do you come here past midnight?" Benji asks.

[Name] motioned to her backpack. "To study. I can't really focus if my bed is a couple of feet away, you know?"

Benji gives [Name] a long look for a moment. "Do you just... Study and work?"

"Most times," [Name] admits. "But that's not why I brought you here. I know this little... Agreement we made is a little strange and we definitely didn't really start off on any proper footing so I guess I just wanted to, I don't know--?"

"Get to know each other more?" Benji suggests, making [Name] nod.

"Yeah - nothing too deep. Just simple stuff like favorite color but I think that's kind of obvious." She eyes his dark blue linen shirt and black pants before darting to her clothes - from her pink sweater to pink ribbons pinning some of her hair away. "But you know what I mean - we get to at least talk about something while we pretend to date."

"You're not wrong. Though not sure I want to hear about what you learned in class today." Benji says.

"I don't talk about class every day!" [Name] says back, throwing a balled up piece of straw cover between his brows.

Benji huffs, "Ha! Liar. You always talk about classes with me whenever I take you home. I swear, I know about your information science classes more than my own business classes."

"Because I had nothing else to talk about." [Name] counters. "Which is why--"

"We're here. I get it. But I still doubt you do anything fun."

The notion made [Name] glare at Benji, who only offered a smirk in response. When he'd gotten comfortable enough with her, he had ended up some weird mix of the Benji's she's seen: friendly and a provoker if he was in the mood.

[Name] rolled her eyes. "I'll have you know that I don't just study. I have actual hobbies."

Benji leaned into the table, a grin on his face. "Yeah? Like what?"

"I collect Peach Riots when I get the chance, go to the Kingsroad Market every Saturday and find a new recipe to eat while I watch horror movies--"

"Horror movies, huh?" Benji asks, glancing at the poster beside them. "And does that involve anyone?"

Chiara had only ever watched with [Name] if she was worn down long enough by the latter. It had taken her nearly a month and a promise to take the trash out that same month to convince her roommate to watch the Halloween series.

"Usually just me if Chiara can't or won't do that with me." She answers truthfully. "Your turn."

"I like hanging out with my friends." Benji starts, pausing a moment to think. "We go the bars and clubs around here often and sometimes go on weekends trips. Most times, though, we go to the beach just a couple miles from campus and have a campfire. Its only a couple of us but they make it really fun."

He seemed content when he spoke about his friends. Chiara hadn't been joking when she mentioned only sticking to a few people. [Name] wasn't even sure she saw him with them when they were just walking around campus, save for the Tully brothers who always made sure to make their friendship with Benji be known.

It made her wonder what it would be like to have a friend besides Chiara. [Name]'s first year had consisted of her constantly working shifts if it wasn't during the days she was on campus. Not to mention, CIC's small and elite population had her at a disadvantage since cliques and friend groups were already formed.

"Sounds nice." [Name] says to him, glad he was receptive to her impromptu change in their routine. Faintly, she checked the watch on her phone. "Am I holding you back, by the way?"

Benji shakes his head. "Nah. I got nothing tonight. Now, about those horror movies: what's your thoughts on that Texas Chainsaw Massacre remake?"

"Oh my god, do you have all night?"

The rest of the evening had been just that; movie hot takes and soon figuring out that both of them having an affinity for spicy food, even if Benji's mouth is burning a thousand degrees. By the time they had left the diner, they both had nearly everything to say and the walk felt shorter for [Name], which disappointed her greatly since they had gotten into the topic of Aeron Bracken's unusually inflated ego and how Benji went by his middle name "Davos" during Year 5 to 7 before dropping it because too many people were confused if Benjicot and Davos were the same people or not.

The night ended on a good note. [Name] had been more than eager to see Benji again soon instead of dreading trying to figure out what to say to him during their walks. Momentarily, she reminded herself about their agreed conditions and Benji's question from when they first spoke.

"We can't even be friends?"

Had they become friends? [Name] wonders to herself as she settled into bed that same night. For a moment she wants to push against it; making new friends outside of high school was tricky. Regardless, she felt a sense of calm and ease around him that she hadn't felt with many people here.

She pushes the panicked thought back as she closes her eyes, wondering just how interesting the next coming weeks will be now that Benjicot Blackwood seemingly found a way into her mundane routine.

taglist

@not-a-glad-gladiator @opheliaas-stuff @sahvlren @nikki-is-a-nerd @weird-things-i-think-about @cxcilla @anakilusmos @haydee5010 @waystarkia @newestobsessionishere @herejhsttostan @hardkiddonut @aisselasstuff @rebeccawinters @aemondsb1tch @radiantdanvers @northofvalyria

[hard-core-super-star]

could you write kate missing reader's birthday party ?? pls and thank u

-💜

i bet it stung [K.Bishop]

pairing: kate bishop x reader

summary: kate tries her best to be there for everyone but sometimes, she messes up.

warnings: angst with happy ending; mutual pining, friends to lovers; kate's a mess but she's trying her best; allusions to sex + mentions of hickeys; NOT proofread

wordcount: 1.7k

a/n: HEY GUYS! i've been spending most of my time working on polishing vampire!kate and trying to figure out an upload schedule for new chapters BUT i suddenly got hit with inspiration to tackle this request and now it's here. i actually really liked how this turned out, sorry to the anon who requested this because it took me a RIDICULOUS amount of time to write it 😅 as always, thanks for the love, support, and patience. hope you enjoy <3

* * * * * * *

You didn't want to think the worst of your best friend.

You wanted to be kind and patient and understanding and not give her the silent treatment like she deserved. But what else were you supposed to do after she broke yet another promise to you?

Maybe it was stupid, maybe you were being overdramatic, or maybe you had a damn good reason for feeling so disappointed.

It wasn't the biggest deal in the world, you knew that, but that didn't stop you from wanting to shut down and hide in your room. You couldn't do that, though, since you were still in the middle of your living room, celebrating your birthday.

Well, celebrating is putting it nicely.

It's more like you're sitting on your couch, surrounded by people who know and love you, and trying to act like your heart isn't sinking down into your stomach and making it churn with something akin to anxiety. What's bothering you isn't anxiety, though.

It's the fact that Kate looked you right in the eye and promised she would be there before the end of the night. Your birthday wasn't exactly the best day for the archer to go off on a complicated mission but it wasn't like she had a choice.

At least, that's what she had said before running out the door with that breathtaking smile on her face.

You had believed her at that moment but then night came and Yelena showed up at your apartment with a bottle of unlabeled vodka in her hand and no awkward archer at her side. It would have been fine if the blonde hadn't mentioned she had no idea where Kate was even though she had told you Yelena had assigned the mission to her.

You didn't want to make a scene, though, you were supposed to be enjoying your day and getting slightly too drunk with your friends while eating ridiculously expensive cake.

Your change in mood didn't go unnoticed by the Russian or the rest of your friends.

"She'll be here," Peter says, offering you a small smile. "She's just a little late."

"Yeah!" Kamala joins in, giving your knee a reassuring squeeze. "When has Kate not been late to something, right?"

Yelena opens her mouth to answer but the glare you send her way makes her rethink her words. "She is…awful at time management."

You snort, lifting up your cup. "Cheers to that."

Your friends join in and you down the rest of your drink, thankful that the bitter taste of the alcohol distracts you from your bitter feelings.

The rest of the night looks the same with drinking and crappy jokes and far too many slices of cake. Your friends leave a few hours later and it's not until you turn the music off and silence engulfs you that you remember your disappointment.

More than that, it suddenly dawns on you that you're alone.

That Kate still isn't back.

It hurts more than it should.

You know she didn't lie but she still chose not to tell you she wouldn't make it. She promised she'd show up and she didn't.

You're in the middle of cleaning up the kitchen, doing your best to hold back your tears because you are not going to cry on your birthday, when you hear the sound of the front door opening.

It takes a lot of self-restraint to stay instead of running away like you want to. You already know you'll end up forgiving her for missing your party, no matter how stupid the reasoning she gives you is.

"y/n."

The simple sound of her voice is almost enough to get you to break. You're determined not to break down this time, though, and certainly not in front of her.

You take a deep breath before turning around to face her. Your eyes instantly fall on the badly wrapped present and the almost crumpled bouquet of flowers in her hands. Any other day, you would have found it cute.

It's hard to break your habit despite how upset you are and you find yourself scanning her for any clear or severe injuries.

It doesn't take you long to notice the marks on her neck. You assume they're bruises, that her messy hair and disheveled appearance are part of whatever trouble she ended up getting herself in tonight.

But then you look closer.

And suddenly the room feels far too small, the air too thick to let you breathe.

Kate instantly takes notice of what's stolen your attention, placing the flowers down before her free hand comes up to nervously rub at her neck. You're not a genius but you know all her tells by heart.

"You didn't," you say, your voice barely above a whisper but brimming with danger.\

"It's not- I didn't-" She cuts herself off with a sigh.

You know exactly what that means. She doesn't even have an excuse. No stupid explanation to make you feel better. If anything, that makes her guiltier.

Of what? You're not too sure. You just know your best friend was out getting laid when she was supposed to be here with you.

Your unspoken feelings for her only make her betrayal worse.

"You're fucking unbelievable, Kate."

You see a flash of hurt stain her usually bright eyes but you don't care. You can't. Because all of you've done since you met her is care and it's gotten you nothing but heartache.

"y/n."

The soft tone she uses tugs at your heartstrings and yet you force yourself to keep going. To walk away and put enough space between the two of you so you don't have to keep staring the truth right in the face.

Kate doesn't love you. Not the way you want her to. And even though you love her, you can't keep letting yourself get hurt like this.

Not anymore.

So, you walk away.

Unfortunately, you still live together which makes your plan to ignore her for at least a few days practically impossible. Maybe it's immature but the only thing you can do is stay in your room and avoid interacting with her as much as possible.

Avoiding her does little to soothe your hurt feelings, though, and hearing her pace outside your locked door like a scolded puppy makes things even harder. All you can do is remind yourself you already know what her excuses will be anyway so what's the point of letting her in just to be hurt again?

It's a good plan but it doesn't take into account how…persistent Kate can be.

You assume she'll end up doing something to catch your attention but you never once think she'll climb the fire escape and knock on your window.

That's exactly what she does, though, which leaves you pretty much unable to ignore her.

You think about it for a second but then your eyes meet hers and you get up before you can stop yourself.

It's stupid, you know that, but that knowledge doesn't stop you from opening your window. You don't let her in even though it's ridiculous to make her stay outside.

"Do you need something?" You ask.

"Yeah, to talk to you," she replies, her eyes nervously searching your face. "I need to apologize."

"You don't have to, you-"

"Yes, I do and you have to let me in." She seems just as surprised as you are by her words.

You momentarily think about shutting her out and yet somehow, for whatever stupid reason, you don't. You take a step back and allow her to climb in through your window like all those times before. At least this time she's not bleeding.

An awkward silence settles over both of you as she stands in the middle of your room. You regret not cleaning up a little before making your way to the window since now she's subjected to all your haphazardly thrown tissues and incredibly messy bed.

"What now?" You question, already fidgeting with your fingers while you wait for her to talk.

"Now…I tell you how sorry I am and how big of an idiot I am."

"Kate, we've been friends for years, I already know you're an idiot," you say with an eyeroll that holds way too much affection.

"True," she says with a chuckle. "No, I um…I really messed up but not in the way you think. I did miss your party but I…I didn't hook up with anyone. Not really, I-"

"You really don't have to explain this to me." You rush out, not at all wanting to hear those kinds of details from her.

"Yes, I do." She takes a step toward you and it takes all your restraint to not step away from her. "I don't want you to think I went out and slept with someone else on your birthday-"

"Kate," you try again. "You're an adult, you can do whatever you want."

"I want to do that with you!"

There's an edge of desperation to her voice that makes you pause. More than anything, her words confuse you.

"What are you talking about?"

A groan escapes her lips and before you know it, she's getting rid of the space between you and gently taking your face in her hands. She tilts your head until you're looking right at her and your breath gets caught in your throat from the proximity.

"I. Want. To. Be. With. You." Kate whispers every word into the small space between your lips. "I did get caught up on a stupid mission but I didn't sleep with anyone else. I just had to get creative and I took a page out of Natasha's book. I didn't think I'd end up with a massive hickey, though."

It's absolutely ridiculous.

It honestly borders on stupid.

So much so that you laugh.

You laugh until the weight you've been carrying for who knows how long falls off your shoulders.

Until finally, finally, you're able to lean in and kiss the girl of your dreams.

Kate may be an idiot who always gets herself in the worst kinds of troubles but…she's your idiot.

Finally.

[fairyhaos]

seventeen as teachers

requested by @weird-bookworm ! it's a little to the left of what you asked but i hope it's alright anyway ><

masterlist

seungcheol

architecture professor. kind of thanks to physics!cheol anon for this idea but he really encourages hands-on learning especially for his subject, and he draws big diagrams on the board and gestures wildly with his hands as he's explaining why the models work and what do the students think of it? also he definitely gives vibes of someone who high fives the students when their models withstand his shaking tests, but also laughs and claps when they fall apart. because it's all about learning, isn't it? and he's with you to help you learn every step of the way. 

jeonghan

kindergarten teacher. cannot for the life of him handle kids older than that because then they get too tricksy and talkative for him and he gets tired too easily to deal with that. actually really good at handling the toddlers. he's also very pretty so all the kids unironically hang onto his every word, basically making him the god at keeping children in line. when he gets too tired of running around after them he just goes “kids :((( jeonghan is tired :(((“ and they immediately settle down to do something else

joshua

music teacher (1). he's a total department crush (and even school-wide crush) amongst the other teachers because he's so pretty and so kind, always and accidentally keeps making teachers fall for him bc he talks to them so nicely w that pretty smile of his. renowned for his ability to compose melodies on the piano on the spot, and always has students wanting him to help (cough compose for them) parts of their composition work. no one knows what he does outside of work, though. it's like he disappears into thin air after school finishes. 

junhui

gives me eccentric uni professor vibes. sits on his desk with his feet dangling and asks all sorts of strange and irrelevant questions to the students that are, actually, not strange and entirely relevant. has everyone walking out of his lectures feeling like a changed person because he either a) managed to get horribly off track or b) made them rethink their entire life choices. loved by all, and maybe a bit too much. poor guy definitely had an obsessed student try to follow him home before he got lost himself and so they both ended up in the middle of nowhere

hoshi

chemistry teacher. no other reason other than i think he'd look great with a pair of goggles on his forehead pushing his fringe back at funny angles whilst he grins maniacally and goes, “hey, kids, today we're gonna set things on fire!!!!”. so passionate about teaching these things to the students, and rambles on like he only has 5 minutes left on earth and he's gonna use every second to cram in as much chemistry knowledge into the students’ brains as he can in that time. it works, too. his passion inspires so many of them to take chemistry further up in the school. 

wonwoo

history teacher. all the students want him for their teacher when they take history because he's actually, like, competent and knows stuff. known for taking no shit when it comes to doing assignments on time because he sets reasonable deadlines and if you can't make them, then that's on you, not him. students love him. also super duper helpful if you have any questions and is always free at lunch to help bc he'll do anything to escape the hyperactive claws of mr. kwon and mr. wen who are always up to shenanigans

woozi

music teacher (2). mans life literally revolves around music and i can't imagine him doing anything else. department ace. conductor of both the symphony and concert orchestra, and rearranges all of the parts himself when the students find it a little too difficult. also do Not engage this man in a conversation about anything to do with music theory because he will rant for ages and any quick question turns into half of your lunch break being missed. he means well, though, and always gets ridiculous amount of thank-you presents at the end of the year. 

minghao

art teacher (1). dresses like one, too, and has been voted as ‘best dressed teacher’ for the past 3 years in a row. all the art students are kind of afraid of him because if you ask for feedback, there is a 50/50 chance that he'll rip you a new one whilst explaining what you did wrong. there's never any true cruelty to his words, though, cuz hes always actually giving genuine advice and he's always right in what he advises, so students either love him or hate him for his criticisms, though mostly it's the former. he's pretty, too, and his works are pretty, so that's a plus

mingyu

teaches business studies to the older students, purely cz i think he gives maths-adjacent vibes. he teaches a “special” subject that's not available to the younger kids and he's ridiculously handsome so he's kind of like a legendary figure in the school. even if he's a bit silly and adorable at times, he's also super good at holding intellectual debates with his students about current economic and political affairs. can be found bickering with mr. yoon bc the kindergarten teacher wants him to help with his taxes.

dokyeom

art teacher (2). smiles brighter than the sun at all hours of the day, and when the senior students are drowning in coursework and artist research deadlines, he's like the one and only guiding light that helps them get through it because of how endlessly optimistic he is. half the seniors take art solely because of him, actually. also a firm believer that all art is good art and there's no such thing as a “non-artist”. scolds minghao after work when he feels like the other teacher was being too harsh to the students

seungkwan

part of the senior leadership team. takes his position veryyy seriously, strides briskly around the school with a jingle of w set of keys he managed to procure from…somewhere. is always on top of uniform inspections which is always annoying for the kids, but he's also melodramatic and smiley so they love him anyway. the students are always try to recruit him for teacher quizzes and events bc he makes everything way more fun. 

vernon

classics teacher. this might seem odd but hear me out!!! dude loves ancient history and Will do deep dives on old artefacts and cultures that interest him, and i think that passion can definitely be transferred to him teaching kids about latin, ancient greek, old civilizations. known for sharing nothing about his personal life but also being able to talk for ages about something that happened over 1000 years ago. the students all find him super cool and also super endearing. 

chan

the guy who's hired externally from some sports club to act as the teacher to students during after school clubs. teaches martial arts, mainly, but he supervised an impromptu dance club one semester and the students loved it so much that they managed to bring the dance club onto the permanent schedule. everyone loves him. his sports club is 10000% sure that half the children who come to them were recruited through chan's lovely personality alone. 

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[justwonder113]

Hi! I came across your blog and I literally had a reading marathon! The way you write is just *chefs kiss*

can I request female reader x han, where you’re in his room doing each others makeup and you end up kissing and teasing each other and making a mess with the makeup, then a member walks in on you straddling his lap but nonethless they’re met with such a cute sight 😌

Aww I can not simply describe how much it means to me that you like my writing. Thank you so much for reading my work and requesting such an adorable fic idea!!!! I loved writing every second of it and I really hope it is what you had in mind and that you will like it.

Warnings: I don't think there's any? Please tell me if I missed anything Reader being whipped and showering Hannie with affection. Not proofread.

word count 1 k

Masterlist

Soulmate- a close friend or romantic partner with whom one has a unique deep connection based on mutual understanding and acceptance. Well it is how meeriam webster's dictionary describes it. But it it so much more it can not simply be described by words. The Greek philosopher Plato wrote that humans once had four arms, four legs and two faces. He explained that Zeus split us in half as a punishment for our pride, and we were destined to walk the Earth searching for our other half. Some people spend their entire lives searching for their soulmate. Some people have the pleasure of finding their other half, some don't. Some of them are so skeptical they give up on the whole idea of it.

You were always curios about who would capture your heart and who would be the one who made you feel so complete and full of love that you could call them your soulmate. You have always wondered how you would find out that they, they are the one, that's my soulmate. That's who I want to bond my life if.

Never in your wildest dreams would you imagine that you would realize you've found your soulmate, in the middle of the night, with your room dimly lit and music softly playing in the backround, laid across your bed trying to hold in your giggles as your boyfriend, the chaos incarnate, aka Han Jisung is trying to to put makeup on your face. This whole situation is ridiculous but you've never felt more at peace. You're sure now. This is the one you want to spend your life with. This boy who managed to capture your heart with his boba eyes and gummy smile is your soulmate. To think that you would realize this in such a ridiculous moment like this.

You don't need a mirror to know what you look ridiculous. You knew both of you would end up looking like circus clowns before you even took your makeup brushes out. That's why you went all out on his face and my god did he look ridiculous. But hey, you were also ridiculous, because looking at him, all dishelmed and with caked on makeup, messy hair and mischevious glint in his sparkly eyes, prettiest smile on his face as he proudly gazes at his own art, you have never been more in love.

"We need to even out the lipstick now." He looks away for a second and that's when you seize your chance. With one swift movement you switch your place with him. Han lookes up to you with wide eyes, clearly not expecting you to overpower him. "Wow this was really hot not going to lie!" He breaths out after a second, you can't help but roll your eyes.

"What a dork." You lean in and seal your lips together. You feel like you're overflown with love and all you want is to show him just how much you love him. You place gentle but firm kisses against lips, absolutely loving how he immediately responds to each and every one of them makeup long forgotten. You love how tightly he's holding onto your lips and how he chases after your lips when you lean back to let both of you breathe.

Sometimes you really can't believe that he's actually yours. You always get so owerwhelmed with love all you want to do is to shower him all the affection. And that's what you're set on to do. Feeling satisfied on the amount of kisses you left on his lips you decide to migrate them a little. Softly cradling his chubby cheeks you migrate your lips to his chin, his jaw, his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, everywhere you can reach. You want him to know just how precious he is to you. God you feel like you're under some type of love spell. You just can't stop kissing him.

And how can you when he looks so delicious? You could eat him up if you could. His hair is even more messy, his whole face is covered in your makeup and you can swear that red has never looked more better on anyone. His breathing is a little bit rugged, his skin is all flushed, which is apparent even under all that makeup, he has this lovesick smile while his eyes look a bit dazed while still shining like the brightest star for you. Does he even realize what he does to you?

"What brought this on?" He asks after he finally catches his breath. He leans up a bit so now you're in his lap, his arms tight around your waist.

A smile creeps up on your face, you gently move the hair out of his forehead and leave a little kiss there, smiling even more at the imprint of your lipstick on the center of his forehead. Just how much lipstick did he actually put on your lips?

"You make me believe in soulmates." Han looks surprised at fist, then unsure how to react before the brightest smile creeps up on his face. Suddenly your positions are switched yet again and you're on the bed while Han is the one covering your face with millions of kisses while muttering between each and every one of them just how much he loves you.

Unbeknownst to you, while you're all lovely dovely Chan had opened the door to Han's bedroom wanting to ask him something, let's just say there's this video going around in your friend group now where you look like two idiots in love. You wanted to die of shame when you saw it the first time, but upon closer inspecting it, the way you two looked at each other... You really found your soulmate.

[sethsclearwater]

I neeed more Paul in heat blurbs omgg

here's some paul for y'all :)

also combining with this blurb request: "could you pls do a blurb where paul is in his rut or heat or whatever tf it's called and he's just dying to be inside reader all the time and she's so sore and whiney and he's just like promising her he'll be quick and doing his best to take care of her while also dealing with his heat and reader is just so in love with him that she's always willing to help him out bc she hates seeing him in pain"

...

"paul-" you whined as you felt him peppering your neck and collarbone with soft kisses, waking you up from your (much needed) sleep.

he hummed softly, "sorry princess," he murmured, his voice genuine. he had just gone into his heat or rut or whatever the day prior. you weren't entirely sure how any of it worked but what you did know was that the man was even more insatiable than he normally was and quite literally needed to be fucking you for the majority of the day or he'd be in an absurd amount of pain and discomfort. it had gotten so bad that you both decided to sleep without any clothes on because of how urgent he needed to be inside of you when it intensified.

you let out a soft sigh, rolling over to peek up at him, "'s not your fault," you murmured, wrapping your hand around his neck so you could tug him down for a soft kiss.

he was quick to melt into the kiss, sliding his free hand down your side so he could rest it on your thigh, gently tugging so he could part your legs for him. you let out a soft whine as you felt more of his release from the previous night dripping down your thighs.

"promise i'll be quick," he reassured as he pulled his lips from yours, making quick work of rolling over so he was settled in between your thighs, taking his hand and pumping his cock a few times in his hand to ensure he was ready for you.

you giggled and shook your head, "take your time," you murmured, threading your fingers through his hair as your other hand slid up his arm to offer his bicep a small, reassuring squeeze, "i kinda like it," you admitted with another giggle, smiling when paul leaned down to press a quick kiss to your lips.

"good to hear," he mused with a smile on his face as he lined his cock up with the your entrance, sheathing himself inside of you in one quick thrust, eliciting loud moans from both of you.

despite the fact that he had fucked you senseless the entire day prior, you still managed to feel the familiar stretch as your walls worked to accommodate his length. paul was all to familiar with this as well, making sure to pause for a few moments so you could stretch despite his body begging him to fuck you as hard as he could.

"'m okay," you reassured after a moment, gently squeezing his bicep again so he'd know he could start rocking his hips against yours.

he didn't waste any time and was immediately setting a quick pace, snapping his hips against yours as hard as he could, the pleasure of his cock kissing your cervix with each thrust combined with the pain of being so overstimulated sending your brain into a tizzy as you tried to process it all.

"fuck you feel so good," he groaned, dropping his head so he could latch onto your neck, finding any spots that weren't already covered in hickies so he could add to the mural of love bites he'd created on your body, "taking such good care of me," he added, sucking in a breath when he felt your walls flutter around him at the praise.

you whined, dropping your head back as you tightened your fingers in his hair, wrapping your legs around his waist so he'd have better access to you. both of you were quick to let out loud moans as he hit an even deeper spot than normal with your adjustment, both of you dangerously close to cumming in a ridiculously short period of time.

"paul i'm close-" you whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut as he reached his hand down to press down on your clit, rolling the sensitive, puffy bud between his fingers.

"go ahead princess," paul gritted out, not stopping his relentless thrusts as he spoke to you, "'m right behind you," he reassured, pressing down particularly hard on your clit to send you over the edge to your first orgasm of the morning.

you let out a loud moan as you came, dropping your head back against the pillows as you rode out your high. your blissed out expression, combined with the way your pussy throbbed around paul's cock had him cumming right after you, exploding inside you as his warm release coated your walls.

paul buried his face in the crook of your neck as he came, sucking in deep breaths as he tried to regain his composure. shockingly, you were the first to come down from your high, wrapping your arms around his neck to hold him close to you and gently stroke your fingers up and down his back as you allowed him to soak in the moment.

"i love you," you murmured, pressing your lips to his temple as you squeezed him close to you, giggling when paul lifted his head so he could press a soft kiss to your forehead.

"i love you too princess," paul murmured, "don't know what i did to deserve you," he added softly which had you giggling again as you shook your head.

"don't know what i did to deserve you big guy," you teased, both of you letting out soft laughs at your nickname for him. paul rolled his eyes, gently pulling his softening cock out of your walls so he could help get you cleaned up so you two could hopefully make some breakfast before his rut started ramping itself up again.

[simplygojo]

The Devil He Made Me - Ch. 6

Authors Note: Finally got this chapter out...I hope y'all enjoy bc shit is about to get real as fuck. As always, please let me know your thoughts by commenting or sending me a message, I appreciate any and lal feedback.oh and don't forget, I LOVE Y'ALL <3

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f/reader

Series Summary : After being found by Gojo and his first year students in a sticky situation, y/n joins Jujutsu High under the close supervision of Gojo. As time passes, the two of you become close, with a strong unspoken bond forming as you work together. Although, there is something dark looming over the situation, and those at Jujutsu High are determined to get to the bottom of it, before it is too late.

Chapter Summary : After battling with multiple special grade curses, y/n spends some time in the hospital so Shoko can run some tests to get to the bottom of the burning question: what was that cursed energy? With all of these thoughts swirling around y/n's head, she decides to discuss the incident with Gojo.

Taglist: @mawhoreagaa; @peqch-pie; @blue-serendipity; @simplyyyuji; @starrnai; @sorcerersseestars; @n1vi; @angryglitterperfection; @krak-jj; @coweringbear; @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni; @cococola-cocaine

If you'd like to be added to the taglist, leave a comment to let me know :)

Word Count : 5.5k

Warnings : mention of injuries, swearing, some tensions, mention of d*eath...

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Chapter 6 Bonus Blurb

The familiar scent of antiseptic filled your nose as you slowly blinked your eyes open. The soft whirring and sporadic beeping of machines and the gentle hum of the infirmary's lights gradually came into focus. It took a moment for you to remember where you were—Jujutsu High, the infirmary. You tried to sit up, but a deep ache in your muscles pulled you back down, reminding you of the battle just days before.

You had been unconscious for just over a day, but the soreness that clung to your body was a fading echo of what it had been. Shoko had healed most of your injuries, and while your body still felt heavy, you were no longer in a significant amount of pain.

A subtle shifting caught your attention, and you turned your head to see Gojo sitting at your bedside.

His long legs were stretched out lazily in front of him, his chair tipped back on two legs in that effortlessly casual way only he could pull off. A playful smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he noticed you stirring.

He wore an off-white button-up shirt, simple and unassuming, and somehow looked better on him than it had any right to. The way it fit him—just snug enough at the shoulders, but loose enough to give him that carefree look to match his attitude.

And then there are those sunglasses, the ones that should be ridiculous indoors, yet on him, they work—like a signature mark of his unbothered confidence. Even with half of his face hidden behind those tinted lenses, you can still see his piercing blue eyes.

"Hey there, Sleeping Beauty," he greeted, his voice smooth and teasing, eyes glinting behind his sunglasses. "I was starting to think you'd be out for another day. But I guess you're a bit too stubborn for that, huh?"

You managed a weak laugh, the dryness in your throat making it raspy. Gojo tilted his head—as though studying your face.

"You know," he began, his grin widening, "even unconscious, you’re still causing me all kinds of trouble. What am I going to do with you?"

His teasing tone, paired with the playful glint in his eyes, pulled another laugh from you, this one a bit stronger, though your body still felt heavy. Gojo straightened, his chair landing back on all four legs with a soft thud, before he placed a familiar white pastry box on your lap.

"I brought you a cookie," he said, and as your eyes focused, you recognized the familiar logo from the last pastry box he had got you about a week ago.

“Hmmm, am I having deja vu?” You said teasingly, although your voice was weak.

Propping yourself up with a few pillows, you opened the box to reveal the single chocolate chip cookie—just like the one he'd given you before. "Thought you might want something sweet when you woke up."

His expression softened as he studied your face, his bright blue eyes watching you carefully.

You didn’t even try to stifle the grin that slowly crept onto your face. “You know, you’ve never even asked me if I like sweets.” You teased, a warm feeling growing in your chest.

Gojo rolled his eyes, “These sweets are too good not to like, y/n.” He argued in response, to which you gave him a stern look, and he sighed dramatically. “Fine. Do you like sweets?” He said reluctantly, and you smiled wider in response to his obvious annoyance.

“Yes, I do…they’re my favourite.” You said, picking up the cookie and taking a bite. “This is too good not to like…wow.” You said, covering your mouth, as it was still full with cookie.

Gojo laughed, “I am always right.” There was something different about the way he looked at you now—something gentler than before, more concerned.

You decided to finally ask the burning question, “Gojo, what… happened?”

His expression shifted, the playful mask slipping just enough for you to catch a glimpse of the worry underneath. He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his tosseled white hair as he sighed.

"You don't remember?" His tone was light, but there was a seriousness in his eyes that made your stomach twist. “You and the students were fighting that special-grade curse, remember? You… well, things got a little out of hand.”

The memories started trickling back, one by one. The battlefield, the pressure of cursed energy crushing you from every side. You remembered fighting off duplicates of the curse—one after another—until something snapped. A rush of power unlike anything you'd ever felt before surged through you, dark and overwhelming. The blue energy you had trained so hard to control had been replaced by something else, something foreign and dark.

“Oh, yeah I remember now…Sorry, I’m a little dazed,” you whispered, the weight of the realization hitting you like a truck. “How were there that many special-grade curses there? I thought you said the mission was just one special grade?”

Gojo leaned back in his chair, his arms crossing over his chest as he watched you closely. The playful mask he usually wore was still there, but his eyes, ever sharp and knowing, held a depth that unsettled you. “That’s the thing,” he replied, his voice softer now. “It wasn’t just one special-grade curse, it was multiple—each one a fragment of something larger. They were working in sync.”

The pit in your stomach deepened. You could recall the feeling of being surrounded, the sheer number of cursed spirits far more than you had anticipated. It was no wonder you’d been overwhelmed. “Shoko said she found something strange when she was healing you.”

You frowned, shifting slightly in the bed. “Strange? Like what?”

He hesitated for a moment, his typical lighthearted attitude shifting to a more earnest demeanour. “There’s another cursed energy inside you. Different from the normal cursed energy you’ve been using.”

The weight of his words hit you hard, and you felt your heart start to race.

Another cursed energy? How was that possible? You looked at Gojo, searching for answers, but his expression gave little away. "What does that mean for me?" You asked, your voice wavering slightly.

Gojo leaned back again, his eyes narrowing in thought. “We don’t know yet. That’s why Shoko's keeping an eye on you, and I…” He trailed off, his gaze lingering on you before looking up at the ceiling. “I’m going to be here every step of the way, whether you like it or not."

Before you could respond, the infirmary door slid open, and Shoko entered with her usual calm, unbothered air. She glanced between you and Gojo before speaking.

“Oh, good. You’re awake,” she said with a small smile. “I was starting to wonder if you were going to sleep through the whole week.”

You managed a faint grin as she approached your bed. Shoko pulled out her clipboard, her eyes scanning the notes she had taken while healing you. After a moment, she looked up and met your gaze, her expression turning serious.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” she said, her voice low. “When I was healing you, I noticed something unusual. Your cursed energy… it wasn’t just the blue-hued energy you usually produce.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Gojo had mentioned this already, but hearing it from Shoko felt different. More real.

“There’s another source of cursed energy inside you,” Shoko continued, her brow furrowing slightly. “I don’t know how or why, and I can’t see anything on the tests I’ve done, but it’s there, and it’s separate from your own cursed energy. It’s… dark.”

You stared at her, stunned. Another source of power? But how? Why now?

“What does that mean?” You asked quietly, the weight of her words pressing down on your chest.

Shoko shook her head, her expression unreadable. “I’m not sure. And we don’t know how it got there, but its foreign. We’ll have to run some more tests to figure it out. But for now, you need to be careful. That power—whatever it is—could be dangerous if you don’t learn to control it.”

Gojo gave you a reassuring smile, though there was something sharp behind his usual cocky expression. “Don’t worry Shoko. You’ll figure it out. Plus, y/n has me as her teacher, after all. You know better than anything that I am the strongest.”

His words should have comforted you, or at least made you laugh—but the uncertainty gnawed at the back of your mind.

What the hell is wrong with me?

—

You stayed in the infirmary for a few more days while Shoko ran some tests. It was all routine at first, just performing tests on your cursed energy levels, helping you heal some of those stubborn wounds with her reverse cursed technique.

As the days passed and you grew more comfortable around Shoko, your conversations took on a lighter tone. You had expected her to be more distant, but she had a subtle, dry sense of humor that made you laugh, even in your exhausted state.

On the second evening, as Shoko finished up another round of tests, she pulled a chair up beside your bed, setting her clipboard down. “You’re healing well,” she said, her usual neutral tone softened. “We’ll have you out of here soon, hopefully.”

You smiled faintly. “Thanks, Shoko. It’s been kind of nice getting to know you more.”

She raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “Don’t get too used to it. I’m not that interesting.”

You chuckled. “Somehow, I doubt that. You’ve got to have some stories, being friends with Gojo and all.”

Shoko leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “Oh, Gojo? Yeah, there are plenty of stories, most of which are probably better off unsaid.”

Your curiosity piqued. “Come on, I’m stuck in bed here! Give me something. How was he back then?”

She sighed in mock reluctance before a small smile spread across her face. “Alright, alright. There was one time… Well, this was back when Gojo and—” Shoko hesitated for a second, her expression darkening slightly, but she quickly recovered. “—when Gojo and his best friend were still students here. His name was Geto Suguru.”

“Geto?” you repeated, unfamiliar with the name. “I don’t think I’ve heard of him.”

Shoko’s eyes softened a little, and for a moment, there was a quiet sadness in them. “Yeah, you wouldn’t have. Suguru was… He and Gojo were like brothers. They used to be inseparable.”

You blinked, surprised. It was hard to imagine Gojo having a best friend—someone close enough to understand him on that level. “What happened to him?”

Shoko looked down for a moment, her voice becoming more sombre. “It’s… complicated. Let’s just say he took a different path. It’s not something Gojo talks about much, but they were close. Closer than anyone would think.”

There was a brief silence between the two of you, the weight of her words sinking in. You could feel the layers of history, the unspoken grief in Shoko’s tone, and it made you wonder just how much Gojo had buried beneath that playful exterior.

Shoko cleared her throat, shaking off the mood. “But, anyway. Gojo’s always been the same—cocky, infuriatingly powerful, and completely insufferable when he’s right. There was this one time he convinced Suguru and me to sneak into the teachers’ lounge at night because he wanted to prank Yaga. Nearly got us all expelled.”

You laughed softly, trying to picture a younger Gojo pulling off one of his infamous schemes. “I’m guessing it didn’t go as planned?”

“Not at all. Yaga caught us halfway through. Gojo had rigged this ridiculous trap to dump confetti on him when he opened the door, but instead, it went off on us. We were covered in glitter for days.” Shoko shook her head with an amused smile. “Suguru was so mad. I thought he was going to kill Gojo right then and there.”

You laughed at the image, imagining a flustered Gojo trying to explain himself with confetti raining down around him. It was hard to reconcile the carefree man you knew now with the version of him Shoko described—someone who had once had a deep bond with someone else, someone who had experienced loss.

“Do you think he misses him?” You asked quietly, the question escaping before you could stop yourself.

Shoko looked at you for a moment, her gaze thoughtful. “I think he does, in his own way. Gojo doesn’t like to talk about the things that hurt him. He hides behind that grin of his, but… yeah. I think he does.”

You nodded, feeling a pang of empathy for the man who had become such an enigmatic figure in your life. Maybe there was more to him than just the confident, teasing exterior. Maybe, beneath it all, Gojo carried his own burdens, just like the rest of them.

Shoko stood up, stretching her arms over her head. “Alright, that’s enough reminiscing for now. You rest up, and if you’re lucky, maybe I’ll tell you more embarrassing Gojo stories tomorrow.”

“Looking forward to it,” you said with a grin, feeling a bit lighter despite the heaviness of the conversation.

As Shoko left the room, you couldn’t help but think about the person Gojo used to be, and how much of that was still hidden beneath the surface.

—

Once you had recovered fully, you found yourself training harder than ever before, trying to tap into this newfound source of energy. Gojo, ever the confident mentor, pushed you to your limits, testing how far you could go before the black energy resurfaced.

At first, it was difficult—frustrating, even. The black energy was slippery, elusive, always just out of reach until it wasn’t. But with each passing day, you felt it more clearly, a flicker of something cold and sharp beneath your usual warmth of cursed energy.

Megumi, Yuji, and Nobara were a constant source of support for you, and they really didn’t need to be—but they wanted to help. Whether it was their own curiosity or the friendship you had developed over the past month, they stuck around.

Training with them made the days more bearable, and their playful banter helped ease the tension that weighed on your shoulders.

One afternoon, you found yourself sparring with Yuji while Nobara and Megumi sat on the sidelines, doing some homework for another class they had. Yuji, ever the ball of energy, was throwing everything he had into the match, but even he couldn’t help but crack jokes between strikes.

“C’mon, y/n, is that all you got?” he teased, dodging one of your kicks with ease.

You grinned despite the sweat dripping down your face. “Just wait. I’m holding back so I don’t embarrass you.”

“Like that’s possible, you were just unconscious for a day, y/n. Don’t get cocky!” Nobara sarcastically scoffed from the sidelines, earning a chuckle from Megumi, who was trying to hide his amusement.

The laughter and camaraderie between the four of you made the discovery of this dark energy less daunting, and the uncertainty less frightening. You felt supported—more than ever before. But even with all the training, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong.

‘How did I get here?’ You thought while grabbing some water during a short training break. It’s not like you could answer that question; you still have next to no memories of your life before this—before discovering jujutsu sorcery.

You had no clue what you were doing here, but you knew you had very little choice in being here, it was all you knew now. You just had to do your best.

The black energy inside you was growing stronger, more insistent. But you wanted answers now, living in a constant state of unknown was becoming unbearable.

—

In the days following, you recalled scenes from the battle with the special grade curses. One of the curse's words replayed in your mind like a broken record. Each time you tried to push it away, the memory clawed its way back, gnawing at the edges of your thoughts.

As you sat alone in your room, your hands idly tracing the bandages still wrapped around your torso, the curse’s voice echoed: "Do you feel it…It's almost time for you."

You couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that came with those words. What had it meant? Why had it focused on you, singling you out with such terrifying precision?

Before being found by Gojo, I had never been around curses…right?

—

Later that evening, as the sun melted into the horizon, bathing the school grounds in an orange glow, you crossed paths with Gojo again. His usual carefree grin was firmly in place, but by now, you knew better—that smile often masked something deeper.

He stood leaning against one of the chainlink fences just outside the outdoor training grounds; his blindfold was nowhere to be seen and was replaced by a pair of dark grey rectangle-shaped shades.

It was after teaching hours, so Gojo wore his casual clothes: just an oversized black long-sleeved shirt—though it seems he had cut the neckline, as it exposed more of his collarbone than a normal shirt would, paired with some grey sweatpants.

For whatever reason, whether it be your newfound appreciation for life after nearly dying, you got a warm feeling in your chest (and between your legs) when you saw him. ‘Does he always look this good?’ You thought to yourself as you waltzed up to him, interrupting his concentration on whatever video he was watching on his phone.

“Hey,” you called out, your voice softer than usual. The fading light caught in his messy white hair, making it shimmer, and he turned his head towards you with a raised brow, his curiosity piqued.

“Hey there, walking all by yourself?” He teased, provoking you to roll your eyes with an amused smile. “Thought it was a better idea than walking with you.” You said, biting back at his quip. He let out a laugh and slid his phone into the pocket of his sweats.

“You think you’re funny now? Good lordd…What’s on your mind, y/n?” He asked, sensing the weight of your thoughts.

Despite your humorous banter, his expression shifted—he could tell you were troubled.

You hesitated, biting the inside of your cheek as you tried to find the right words. “Well, I’ve been thinking…that one curse during the battle… it said something. You were there. It talked about it being ‘almost time for me.’” Your eyes searched his, which were barely covered by those sunglasses, needing to know if he had any answers. “What do you think that meant?”

For a moment, his smile faltered. Barely noticeable, but you caught it. He took a slow breath, his hands slipping into his pockets as he stepped closer, the space between you narrowing.

“I’ve been thinking about that too,” he admitted, his tone more serious than usual. “Curses don’t talk just to talk, especially not special grades. I hate to say it, but they’re smart—they know things.” His eyes softened as they locked onto yours, his concern noticeable.

The cryptic warning from the curse still hung heavy in the air, and despite Gojo’s presence, the unease gnawed at you—it had been gnawing at you since you regained consciousness. You wanted to lean into Gojo’s usual lightheartedness, let it wash away the fear creeping up on you, but tonight, it wasn’t enough to quiet the storm brewing inside.

“Why me?” You muttered, mostly to yourself. “Why was it focused on me?” Despite your attempts to stifle your fear, you couldn’t stop your voice from shaking when you spoke.

His grin faded, replaced by a more thoughtful expression as he sat down on a nearby bench. He leaned back slightly, hands still in his pockets, the playful mask he usually wore slipping just enough for you to see the worry beneath it. “Y/n,” he said softly, motioning for you to take a seat beside him, and you followed his motion.

“Curses sense things in people, sometimes for a reason, sometimes because they catch on to something we don’t even realize. But this… was definitely not random.”

A chill ran down your spine. “So what do you think it meant then…when it said it’s ‘almost time for me’?”

Gojo's gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than usual, and his blue eyes, usually so carefree, held something deeper now as they looked into yours—an intensity that made your breath hitch. He leaned back on the bench, tilting his head toward the darkening sky, as if searching the sky for the right thing to say.

The orange glow of the setting sun illuminated the chiselled features of his face, and you couldn’t stop your thoughts, ‘God, he looks good.’ It was that moment, waiting for Gojo’s reply, when you realized how close the two of you really were, your legs practically touching as you sat beside each other.

“I wish I knew,” he said after a pause, his voice quieter than usual, almost…gentle. "But what I do know is that curses don't just say things for no reason. Especially not special grades like that. Something’s up."

You sat down beside him, feeling the space between you shrink, though neither of you touched. The warmth from his body seemed to seep into the small gap, but there was an undercurrent of tension, something unspoken yet real in the air between you. His presence was normally a comfort, but tonight, it felt different. Almost charged.

He turned his head slightly, and his eyes met yours again—but this time his gaze was steady, unwavering. “Whatever it saw in you,” he continued, his tone low and serious, “you really don’t need to worry about it—you shouldn’t worry about it at least.”

Your pulse quickened at the way he said it, so casual yet laced with empathy and care. But you were unsatisfied with his answer.

Did he actually just say that to me after I almost died?

“You’re really telling me not to worry!?” You said, feeling the emotions in you start to bubble up within you. “Not to worry? Really Satoru?! I have next to no memories of my life, I suddenly woke up in a forest, surrounded by creepy-ass-curses, and nowww you jujutsu-people want me to fight them!” Your voice raised subconsciously as your emotions continued to rise up in you.

“Not to mention I almost died last week, and while I was in the middle of ‘almost-dying,’ a special grade curse practically threatened me—me personally! And you are sitting here telling me not to fucking worry?!” By then end of this you were practically out of breathfrom the volume of your voice.

“And you know what-” Before you could continue, you were cut off. “I don’t like it when you say it like that.” He said barely above a whisper, his voice sounding almost…sad? You could feel his eyes wandered between yours, searching and darting back and forth. “What the hell are you talking about?” You snapped, still frustrated and heated from your rant.

“My name,” he said softly, his eyes not shifting from yous. “I don’t like it when you said my name in such an angry voice.” Immediately, your frustration was gone, and your expression resembled that of a dear in headlights.

“Satoru?” You said, your head tilting to the side a bit, reflecting the confusion you felt.

“Yes, when you’ve said it before, you said it so nicely, so softly, it sounded so good hearing my name come from you.”

His words hung in the air between you, soft yet cutting, and your heart stuttered at the unexpected vulnerability in them.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out, his confession leaving you at a loss for words. It was a side of Gojo you had never seen—one that wasn't hidden behind his usual cocky smirk or casual confidence.

The air around you seemed to shift, thickening with a tension you couldn't quite place. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears as the weight of his gaze held yours, his eyes searching your face, as if trying to find something in you that you weren’t even sure you could give.

“I…” You faltered, your earlier anger dissipating into confusion, but something else lingered beneath the surface—something deeper. Your pulse quickened again, not from frustration but from the strange sensation creeping up your spine.

Gojo’s eyes softened, and though he hadn’t moved closer, the space between you felt significantly smaller. “I get it, y/n. I know all of this is… a lot for you, for anyone.” He said quietly, practically mumbling. “I know things are uncertain and terrifying, but you’re not in this alone.”

The sincerity in his voice cut through the storm of thoughts in your head, leaving you feeling exposed—raw.

You wanted to stay angry, wanted to hold on to that frustration because it was easier than the vulnerability you felt creeping in.

But with the way he was looking at you now—steady, unwavering, almost tender—you felt something inside you waver. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t break the eye contact the two of you held; it was like some external force was interfereing.

Gojo’s expression shifted, the usual teasing smile nowhere in sight. His hand reached out, hesitating for just a moment before gently resting just above your knee. His touch was warm, grounding, and that warm tingly feeling began to creep back in.

“I’m telling you not to worry because, I won’t let anything happen to you,” he said quietly, and the blatant seriousness in his voice sent a shiver through you.

There was something unstated in the way he said it, something more than just a promise of protection. It was intimate, a layer of meaning underneath his words that you weren’t sure you were ready to acknowledge.

You looked up at him, your breath catching as you realized how close he was now, his hand still resting gently on your thigh, his eyes locked on yours.

You could feel the heat radiating off him, his presence overwhelming in a way that wasn’t just comforting—it was something else entirely. Something that made your pulse race for a reason.

“Satoru…” you whispered, his name falling from your lips—softly this time, as it did naturally.

His expression stayed mostly unchanged, but you could’ve sworn his eyes widened, just a fraction, in response.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the tension between you thick and palpable. You could feel it—the unspoken pull—the way your heart ached.

The way his gaze dropped to your lips for the briefest second before flicking back up to your eyes, made a heat begin to pool between your legs.

The air around you was charged, and your mind drifted to how easy it would be to just close that distance, to let whatever this was finally spill over and consume you.

Gojo’s hand tightened ever so slightly on your lower thigh, his thumb brushing against your skin in a way that sent a jolt of electricity through your body. His voice was low, almost a whisper when he spoke again, and oh boy you were not prepared for what words left his lips next. “Say my name like that again,” he murmured, “Please, y/n.”

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to disappear, the only thing that mattered was the space between you and him, and the feeling that, if you took just one step closer, everything would change.

"Satoru, I…" Your voice was breathless, almost as if saying his name had taken something from you, pulling you closer to a line neither of you dared to cross.

But just when it felt like you were teetering on that line, your nerves took over. “Thanks for your help,” you blurted, your legs shifting away form him, breaking the contact between his hand and your skin. The moment, electric and intimate, cooled almost instantly.

Gojo blinked a few times, his hand falling to his side, the intensity of the moment fading as you harshly forced the distance back between you. “I’ll try not to worry, like you said…” You continued awkwardly.

He exhaled softly, and that smartass smile returned to his pretty face once again. "Right… You never have to worry when you’re around me. I’m the best the jujutsu world has to offer." He teased, his voice returning to its usual casualness.

You stood up, looking down at him as you stood in front if him. “Well, I’m gonna get going, Shoko says I should still be resting when I can.” You said, gesturing to the directions of the dorms, and Gojo just nodded in response, leaning back against the bench again, his arms spread over the length of it, his eyes looking up at you—and you were standing so pretty in front of him.

“Goodnight, Satoru.” You said with knowing smile, your gaze lingering for a bit too long befor eturning around and walking back towards the school.

—

The room was thick with tension as the leaders of Jujutsu society sat around the large oak table, their expressions grim. The clan leaders, flanked by stern-faced assistants, wore the air of authority and tradition, while Principal Gakuganji sat at the head, his face as cold and unyielding as ever. The atmosphere was stifling, the weight of the conversation about to unfold already heavy in the air.

Yaga stood off to the side, arms crossed, his face betraying his frustration. Utahime sat beside him, her brow furrowed, glancing between the higher-ups with a mixture of disbelief and quiet anger.

"Principal Gakuganji," the leader of the Kamo clan spoke first, his voice even and measured. "It has come to our attention that there are certain… disturbing developments regarding y/n y/l/n."

The leader of the Zen’in clan, Naobito, gave a snort, his arms resting lazily across his chest. “Disturbing is an understatement.”

Gakuganji leaned forward slightly, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the table. "Explain."

The Kamo clan leader continued, casting a disapproving glance toward Yaga and Utahime. "It appears that a certain conversation between two first-year students at the Tokyo school—Itadori and Kugisaki—was overheard. They were discussing a special-grade curse y/n encountered during a recent mission." He paused, letting the implication settle before continuing. "The curse in question reportedly said something about it being 'almost time' for her."

Naobito’s eyes gleamed with a predatory smirk. “A fucking ticking time bomb. That’s what she is.”

Utahime tensed beside Yaga, fists clenching under the table. She opened her mouth to speak, but Yaga beat her to it. "This is ridiculous," Yaga snapped, his voice firm but controlled. "You're basing this entire accusation on what? Something a curse said during battle? That's not enough to—"

"It’s more than enough," Naobito interrupted, his voice sharp, dismissive. “Special grade curses don’t make empty threats. They know what they’re sensing. If a curse says something is 'almost time' for her, that means she’s a threat.”

“She’s already unleashed an unknown cursed energy,” the Kamo clan leader added. "A power even Gojo Satoru hasn’t been able to fully identify or control. Not that he is even trying. That in itself is dangerous enough. She’s unpredictable. Unstable."

Gakuganji’s fingers stilled, his gaze shifting toward Yaga. “And from what we’ve seen… she could be harboring a greater threat. We cannot allow an unknown force like this to develop under our noses. We must act before it becomes too late.”

“Act?” Utahime’s voice rose, incredulous. “You’re going to condemn her for something she hasn’t even done yet? For something none of you fully understand? This is insane!”

Gakuganji’s steely gaze flickered toward Utahime, his expression unreadable. "This is not a decision taken lightly. We understand the complexity of the situation. But the safety of the Jujutsu world cannot be compromised by unknowns."

“She’s an unknown that Gojo Satoru himself is monitoring!” Yaga countered, his voice rising. “Do you really think he would put the entire school at risk for someone he didn’t trust? He’s been training her personally.”

Naobito’s lip curled in a sneer. “And yet, even Gojo can’t seem to keep her under control. And he doesn’t seem to be doing anything about the threat either, that jack-ass…”

The third clan leader finally spoke up. His tone was measured, but there was no mistaking the finality in his words. “She is too much of a risk. An unknown factor in an already unstable world. We cannot afford to wait and see what this cursed energy inside her might become.”

Yaga took a step forward, hands slamming down on the table. "You're talking about a student! A human being! Not some weapon you can discard when it suits you."

“We’ve made our decision,” Gakuganji said, his voice flat.

“For the safety of all sorcerers and the entire country, y/n y/l/n is to be executed by the end of the week.”