#i did the essay thing where i put my best ones first and last

[holdmymallowsweet]

What are you doing here? 01

Ominis Gaunt x f!MC Word count: 4328, properly tagged on AO3

Chapter summary: Falling right between the awkwardness of their first encounter outside the Undercroft and their jaunt into the Scriptorium, Ominis and the new fifth year have an innocuous little meet up in the library. 

a/n: I’ve always wondered why Mc would offer to talk to Ominis about the Scriptorium, when their last interaction outside the Undercroft was so hostile, and I figured there could have been another conversation in between- not anything deep or meaningful, just a little chat that made it clear that they don’t hate each other. So that’s what this is, and although it’s now the first chapter/prologue of a slow-burn longfic, it was originally a oneshot and can still be read as such, if you prefer. Enjoy! And many, many thanks to @myokk for encouraging me to finally post this, you're the best ❤️

Masterlist || Chapter 02

Chapter 01 - Invitation

Sending her that letter might have been a mistake.

Ominis Gaunt had been sitting in the library for hours now, waiting for someone who, he now realised, in all likelihood would not come.

“I heard you running around aimlessly in the defence against the dark arts tower again today. If you enjoy my company that much, perhaps you would like to join me in the library this evening. I’ll wait.”

It was supposed to be a playful way of telling her he was not angry anymore, a sort of peace offering after he had yelled at her outside the Undercroft. 

It was only after he’d sent the letter that he realised it probably sounded presumptuous and rude beyond belief. Words on parchment couldn’t tell the reader what tone of voice they’d like to be read in, at least not until someone invented a spell for that, but it was too late to take it back.

He sighed. Honestly, he could not remember what possessed him to write the blasted thing in the first place. It had been a whim, a result of his frustration and loneliness when he heard he’d be spending another evening alone because Sebastian had gotten himself detention again. He was not usually that bold, and she was practically a stranger.

They did happen to share a best friend in Sebastian though, so one could hardly blame him for trying to get to know her. In fact, it might be long overdue.

At least that was the excuse he’d use if anyone asked. Or the one he told himself, to be honest.

The truth was, she intrigued him. It took him some time to realise it, but now that he did, he couldn’t let go of the feeling. If Sebastian was to be believed, she was curious about him too, or at least she had been, for a fleeting moment- before his temper got the better of him and he took his frustrations about Sebastian’s betrayal out on her.

Ominis sighed again and ran his hand through his hair.

Someone from across the table shushed him, and his face twitched in slight annoyance.

Oh, he really hoped they’d be gone by the time she showed up, whoever they were.

If she showed up.

By now, it seemed more likely that he’d stay here sulking by his lonesome until it was time to walk back to the dungeons, perhaps facing a bemused Sebastian who’d already know where he’d been. The two of them seemed incapable of keeping secrets from one another, after all.

That would ultimately be the proper punishment for his unreasonable jealousy, her rejection delivered by his best friend.

He’d come to the library with every intention of writing the assigned essay for Herbology, determined not to care too much about whether she’d take him up on his invitation, but it was a lost cause. His self-spelling quill wouldn’t work properly unless he concentrated on the precise words he wanted to put on the parchment, but with his head filled with thoughts of the new fifth year and the undefined nature of whatever relationship they did or didn’t have, all he had managed to write so far was an embarrassing mess.

Ominis considered writing with his own hand, but thought better of it. He could, of course. He’d make notes or short letters without his enchanted quill regularly, but writing an entire essay without being able to tell when the lines would inadvertently run into one another was a daunting task. He’d have to use twice as much parchment as anyone else, and he already felt sorry for Professor Garlick, if she’d have to decipher the mess.

Finally, he decided to just give it up. The door opened, and once again, he strained his ears. He was able to recognize her footsteps by now. Not her, just some unfortunate chap getting chewed out by Madam Scribner for returning his books late.

He was starting to feel ridiculous.

It felt like hours since he’d hurried through the castle, almost slipping on the wet fallen leaves covering the stairs when he left the owlery. Heart thumping with excitement, he’d even made sure to sit at a table where he would, hopefully, be seen by her as soon as she walked in, but far enough away from the librarian to have a conversation without being reprimanded for disturbing the peace and quiet.

Actually, if he hadn’t been so concerned that she might not see him and leave, or that he might miss her coming in, he would have preferred a table in the farthest corner on the second floor, away from prying eyes. She was still the talk of the school and gathered attention wherever she went, and “What is she doing with Gaunt?” was not something he wanted to hear whispered in the corridors.

Thankfully, it was one of the last warm and sunny days before the autumn chill fully set in, so most students were happy to make the most of it and took their work outside. Even Cressida Blume still seemed determined to let Madam Scribner forget her face (not that she would), and he hadn’t heard any other classmate of theirs either. 

Sebastian’s detention was pointless busy work as usual- scrubbing or cleaning or something of the sort. Truthfully, Ominis had ceased to pay attention when his friend complained about his punishments long ago. Whatever it was, it kept him far away from the library- no one was foolish enough to try and “punish” Sebastian by letting him get his hands on even more books.

Not that it mattered whether they knew the curious onlookers or not. She was still the object of everyone’s interest and admiration, and with the way things were going, that wasn’t likely to change anytime soon. Not while she was so eager and endearing, always willing to drop everything the second someone needed something from her.

Right, it wasn’t like her to deny a request from a fellow student. She’d usually jump at the chance to do someone a favour, even if it came from someone she’d never seen before, even if it was much more bothersome than studying in the library for an hour or two.

So why wasn’t she here?

She wouldn’t have shown anyone his letter, would she? Unless she didn’t have to, if the owl reached her at an inopportune time, Merlin knows who else might have read it over her shoulder.

Ominis could imagine it, them sitting in a circle in the Hufflepuff girl’s dormitory, passing his letter around, seemingly teasing her about it in a playful attempt to get her to be wary of him. Until her curiosity would get the better of her and she’d ask them why precisely they found him so disagreeable. He shuddered. 

According to Sebastian, she already knew. She knew, and didn’t care. 

According to Sebastian, she also felt apologetic and regretful about their last encounter, much like him.

And if that was the truth- he couldn’t be entirely sure it was, but if it was, why wasn’t she here? Ominis tapped his quill against the parchment, piercing tiny holes into it and probably soaking the table underneath with ink. 

He was slowly but surely getting annoyed now. If she was as regretful about invading the Undercroft as Sebastian had made it seem, she should have pounced at the chance to meet up with him and make things right.

Of course, that had been weeks ago, so she might have gotten over it by now. Still, he wasn’t good enough for her to at least show up and quietly do her homework on the opposite side of the table? It wasn’t as if she didn’t have any work to do. She always did, with all the extra assignments the Professors threw at her to help her catch up, and even if by some miracle she didn’t, it wouldn’t hurt her to simply study, for once.

She could have come. Ominis frowned. Unless she actually couldn’t.

Notorious troublemaker and rule breaker that she was, he’d often half jokingly wondered when her recklessness would come to bite her in the arse, only it wasn’t unthinkable, was it?

Her duelling skills didn’t make her invincible, it was entirely possible that she was lying dead, or dying, somewhere on the cold forest floor. Small animals and insects already crawling under her robes and the scarf she always insisted on wearing, slowly devouring her corpse while a confused owl pecked at her, trying to get her cold hands to take his stupid, embarrassing letter. 

Ominis took a deep, steadying breath in an attempt to squash the slowly rising dread.

Stop it. She was  fine, she had other things to do, or she thought she was in trouble with him again and didn’t feel like being chastised and insulted all evening. It was annoying that she didn’t even want to find out what he wanted from her- nothing, really, except perhaps a chance to clear the air- but he had no right to complain, he was the one who messed things up.

And his annoyance was merely a way to mask his fear of rejection.

He slumped down, his forehead hitting the table with a soft thud. Ears filled with the sounds of soft footsteps, turned pages and scratching quills, ink from his quill staining his fingertips but nothing to really occupy his mind in her stead.

Why couldn’t he have spent a few more minutes to rewrite that letter, although one could barely call it a letter- the note, why couldn’t he have tried to sound a bit more friendly and inviting? Then again, even a second longer might have caused him to rethink the whole thing, keeping him from sending it at all.

All things considered, that would have been a blessing in disguise, saving him from making an absolute fool of himself.

He’d heard it countless times from the Sallow twins, trying to console him in his moments of self-doubt; that he was a good person, a good friend, that he was fun to be with, but it’s not like she’d ever seen that side of him.

The two of them would make an odd, unlikely combination, but he wanted to get to know her, be near her. His invitation had been a final act of desperation- or perhaps insanity- a desire to hold on to the strange but comforting, tender feeling that rose in his chest whenever he heard her voice in class or her footsteps in the hallways nowadays.

At the very least, he wanted to make sure there was no lingering resentment between them.

The library door opened again, and the next sound to reach his ears suddenly made his head feel blissfully empty. 

It was her voice, and he instantly straightened his back and cocked his head to the side to listen better as she greeted the librarian.

She made her way through the library, with eager steps, drawing closer until he could smell her signature scent, then until he could hear her breathing. Ominis noticed she was slightly out of breath.

Had she been in a hurry?

To meet him?

In spite of the confusion, the sick feeling inside him dissolved almost instantly, all thoughts of why she made him wait only to show up hours later forgotten. She cared. She cared at least enough to give him a bit of her time.

“Hello, Ominis,” she said.

He knew she wasn’t one for formalities, calling all of her classmates by their first name without invitation. 

What surprised him more was the lack of any bitterness or trepidation he’d expected to hear in her voice, instead, she sounded cheerful, excited, almost.

“There you are. Care to sit down?” he replied, trying his best to sound unbothered while ignoring the sudden flutter of nervousness in his stomach. The scraping of the chair from across the table told him she did.

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting, I’m really sorry.”

Are you?

She sounded genuinely apologetic. Suddenly he realised, with another bout of nerves, that this would be the first time they actually had a proper conversation. Without any shouting. She was here for no other reason than to spend time with him, and more importantly, because he asked her to.

Ominis took perhaps a bit too long to answer, but she didn’t seem to notice. It sounded like she was busy taking her textbooks out.

“It’s all right. It’s not like I was just wasting time waiting for you, I was quite busy.” It was almost not a ridiculous lie, considering he’d been busy indeed, desperately craving her company, making a mess of his homework, hoping she’d care enough to show up. He hoped she wouldn’t think too hard about the messy, half empty parchments littering the table. 

It wouldn’t be fair to be upset about it. After all, he invited her on short notice and they never agreed on a time to meet.

“I left as soon as I got your owl, but it took me a while to get here,” she sighed, casually pushing aside his mess on the table to make space for her own.

Why? Where have you been?

Obviously not on school grounds.

“Why would that be?” he said, trying his best to sound nonchalant.

“I was near Aranshire.”

“Aranshire? What were you up to over there?” He raised his eyebrow. He knew it was one of the Hamlets, the one close to Hogsmeade station, if he wasn’t mistaken, but he couldn’t judge exactly how far away from the castle it was.

Oh, he had a bad feeling about this, and she, ever so perceptive, noticed.

“Nothing to be concerned about.” she said airily.

She doesn’t trust me.

Ominis knew he shouldn’t hold it against her. They barely knew each other, after all, and yet he couldn’t help the tiny stab of annoyance as she was lying to him yet again. If it had been Sebastian, she would have told him. 

Then again, Sebastian had never threatened to get her in trouble with the Headmaster.

“Anyway, on my way back something came up and I looked a bit dishevelled by the end of it, and it took me a while to sort that out. That’s why I’m late. I really am sorry.”

“You looked… dishevelled?”

She hummed in agreement, taking a moment to shuffle around pieces of parchment before answering properly. “Just a bit.”

“You do know I wouldn’t be able to tell,” he said with a smirk.

She laughed, and Ominis was almost disturbed by how much he liked the sound of it.

“Fair enough, I suppose, but others would, and I wouldn‘t want to give anyone a reason to stare, or… talk more about me than they already do.”

Ominis tensed. He’d always been aware and annoyed at how much the entire school seemed to gossip about her, but he’d never considered that she’d know, or how she felt about it. There was an odd sort of undertone in her voice.

He wondered yet again how much she knew, or guessed, about the things others said behind his back, when they thought he was out of earshot, always underestimating his hearing. They were careful when Sebastian was close, but they had no reason to hold back when it was just her.

So was she concerned about what the others might say if they saw them together? For her sake, or for his? He was beginning to feel sick again.

“Why did you look ‘a bit dishevelled’ in the first place?” he asked in an attempt to return to the original subject, and perhaps lighten the mood a bit.

“Well…” she hesitated for a moment. “I had a run in with some spiders.”

Oh no.

“Really, nothing to be concerned about.” She added quickly when he furrowed his brow and opened his mouth to say something.

If he had to guess, this wasn’t the first time something like that had happened- in fact he knew it wasn’t. Dragons, Trolls, Dark Wizards, now this- and Merlin knew what else in between. She almost seemed to enjoy it, always roaming around, curious to see what else she could take on.

That recklessness made him uneasy. He had spent the last four years with another one like that, and the two of them being best friends felt like pouring oil in a fire.

“Are you all right?”

“Of course I am. Nothing a bath and a Wiggenweld potion couldn’t fix,” she reassured him.

So you did get hurt.

Ominis frowned. He couldn’t smell any blood, and didn’t hear any strange whispers when she came in. She also didn’t sound as if she was in any pain, so she most likely wasn’t lying when she said she was fine now. Her having just taken a bath also explained why the scent of her soap was slightly stronger than usual and not mixed with the earthy, piney smell of the forest that always clung to her when she’d been roaming around the highlands.

“Are you all right?” she asked suddenly.

The question caught Ominis by surprise. “Certainly. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You seem a bit tense. If there’s anything I can help you with…”

Even without sight, he could guess she was pausing to look at him expectantly. Merlin, did she think that’s why he asked her to meet him?

“No, I…” There were a lot of things he would have liked to say to her, and yet he couldn’t seem to find the right words.

He had to say something, though, because the silence between them as she waited for Ominis to finish his sentence was starting to feel oppressive.

“I’m fine,” he finally said, suddenly feeling self-conscious about how much he was stressing over what, to her, was a casual conversation she had with dozens of others on an average day.

For Merlin’s sake, they were classmates sitting in the library, making smalltalk.

Time to change the subject.

“Really though, what were you doing out there?” He tried his luck again.

“Just the usual.”

Ominis barely managed to suppress a frustrated sigh. “Which would be…?”

She seemed to consider him for a moment. The building frustration from her annoyingly vague answers must have been evident, and Ominis thought for a split second that he’d pushed too far.

“Nothing too exciting. Chatting to some of the locals. Looking for good spots to collect potion ingredients, that sort of thing.”

“Sharp must be very proud of you.”

She laughed that melodic, infuriatingly infectious laugh of hers, and Ominis was both relieved and grateful that the atmosphere lightened considerably again, even as the annoying git who shushed him earlier made a disapproving noise. If she’d heard it, she’d decided to ignore it, and Ominis was more than happy to follow her lead.

“I’m not doing it to please Professor Sharp, I quite enjoy potion making- unlike some of us,” she teased.

“I don’t-“

“Don’t bother denying it, it’s not like I’m imagining the sour look on your face every time I look at you during Potions.”

So she hadn’t been ignoring him, even after everything that had happened. His insides squirmed pleasantly. Perhaps she was still curious about him, after all.

Ominis cleared his throat.

“So, had any success in finding those potion ingredients?” he asked, awkwardly attempting to keep the conversation going.

“Hmm. I’m running out of Horklump juice, but there weren’t any around. I did find some Ashwinder eggs though, at an abandoned poacher camp nearby,” she rambled on absentmindedly, still shuffling around her pieces of parchment. “I’ve always been curious about them, you know. I’d like to see one someday.”

“I wouldn’t recommend it. They’re dangerous criminals, you know.”

She held back a laugh. “I meant an Ashwinder- as in the creature, not the poachers. I’ve seen quite enough of them.” 

“...it was a joke.”

She giggled. “I’ve been thinking about how I always collect their eggs as potion ingredients, but I’ve never actually seen one,” she mused.

Well, they weren’t exactly the sociable sort, even for snakes.

Ominis had met an Ashwinder once, in the gardens behind his family home, after it had slithered out of an abandoned fire his older brother had been playing around with before he’d wandered off, bored. Excited to have someone to talk to, someone who he’d hoped wouldn’t either dismiss him or use the opportunity for some casual cruelty, Ominis had bent down to greet the little snake. It had told him to sod off and slithered away to lay its eggs. Back then, he’d been sulking the whole day over it.

The corners of his lips twitched upwards.

Shame, he thought ruefully. There he actually had a somewhat funny story about the very thing she was interested in, and he couldn’t even tell her. Not without revealing secrets about himself that he’d rather keep tightly guarded.

“Have you ever heard one?” She inquired.

Ominis stiffened instantly. So much for his tightly guarded secrets. He really would have to wring Sebastian’s neck one of these days. “What do you mean by that?”

“I only meant, well…,” she answered sheepishly, “… you obviously wouldn’t have seen one, and I know you have good hearing. Sorry, did I say something wrong?” She was obviously taken aback.

“No, of course not. I’m sorry.” He relaxed. So Sebastian hadn’t told her that, at least. He cleared his throat. “You would have to be lucky to see one. They are born from unattended magical fires and only live for about an hour, barely long enough to lay their eggs.”

“Ah.” She was fumbling with her quill, running her fingers along the feathered edges, from the sound of it, seemingly deep in thought, and thankfully not angry at him for snapping at her. “If they’re born from fires, what are they laying eggs for?”

“I think that’s a question better asked of Professor Howin,” Ominis replied. “You’re the one taking Beasts class, not me.”

“So… could I just make a fire somewhere, ‘unattend’ it and wait for one to come out?”

He gave her an amused snort, not sure if she was being serious. “Are you taking a page out of Peeve’s book, trying to burn down the castle?” Brows furrowed, he still flashed her a warm smile as she had a fit of giggles, and a pleasant warmth spread through his body.

“Perhaps I should take a page out of Peeve’s book, that’d make us even,” she said.

Ominis was waiting for her to explain that rather puzzling statement, but she didn’t.

“Meaning…?”

“Never mind.”

He brushed it off. This was all he’d wanted, sitting together, having a pleasant conversation, laughing about each other’s jokes. And yet it didn’t feel quite right, there was still a wall between them, made up of secrecy and lies.

She finally seemed to have started on her work, the scratching of her quill adding to the symphony of the rustling paper and soft hums and whispers surrounding them.

Apologise for yelling at her about the Undercroft.

Ominis wanted to, he really did, and if he was ever going to, now was the time- but he was still embarrassed just thinking about it and he didn’t want to ruin their first decent conversation by reminding her of how horrible he’d been. It might have been easier to talk about if she was the one to bring it up, and he quietly wondered why she didn’t.

Through the ambient sounds, he heard Madam Scribner get up from behind her desk, about to make a final pass through her sacred halls. Reminding students not to leave a mess, picking unwilling volunteers to tidy the mess of the ones who didn’t listen amongst the stragglers who couldn’t flee fast enough, he was almost tempted to make sure it’d be the two of them.

It wouldn’t be fair, though.

Based on her account of how she’d spent her evening so far and his own idle contemplations, they’d both need to dedicate the remaining hours of the day to schoolwork, and she’d already dropped her previous plans as soon as she received his owl- a courtesy far beyond anything he deserved.

They were out of time.

“We should probably leave.”

There she was, slipping through his fingers again. If only she’d arrived half an hour earlier, maybe he could have gathered his nerve and apologised, at least.

“Wait, weren’t we going to do our homework? I haven’t even started, to be honest.”

Ominis smirked. “The library is about to close, you know. I’ve been here for hours before you came in.” Not that he’d been very productive in that time.

“Oh.” She sounded defeated- and perhaps even a bit disappointed?

That might have been wishful thinking on his part.

“I guess I’ll head back to the common room then. If I’m lucky, Adelaide’s still up and I can copy from her.”

He let out a small chuckle. “Cheating on our assignments, are we?”

“Oh, well. I can’t always be a saint,” she said cheekily.

For a second, Ominis had the urge to walk her back to her common room, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask her. It felt like it would be too much, walking around the castle with her, giving others the opportunity to make assumptions about a relationship that he himself didn’t yet fully understand. 

“Well, don’t let me keep you,” he said instead. He gathered his things, ignoring the growing regret and guilt.

“See you, Ominis. And… if you enjoyed my company enough, perhaps we could do this again?”

He felt his cheeks grow hot. “Sure.”

She laughed. “Cheers.”

And just like that, she was gone.

Her scent and her laughter still lingered and he was left wondering what, if anything, this little get together had accomplished.

Ominis could not have known this would be their last proper conversation before the three of them entered the Scriptorium.

more a/n: Before the Scriptorium though, the next chapter will be a little trip down memory lane, featuring the earful Sebastian got for showing her the Undercroft. It’s finally here! I started working on this a while ago, so if you’ve read this far, thank you! Like I kind of hinted at in the beginning, the concept of this fic is basically “what could they have been up to ‘off-screen’, if canon events stay exactly the same” (up to and including the fact that no one ever mentions mc’s name, we’ll see if I live to regret this decision), and I don’t know if that’s interesting to anyone but myself, but I’d be happy if anyone wants to be along for the ride.  Writing from Ominis’ pov is a challenge and I try my best to keep in mind that he’s blind when describing things (so don’t expect visual descriptions of anything, ever), but hopefully without constantly drawing attention to it, I hope I managed to do that respectfully and realistically. That said, if anything feels off to you or you have questions, feel free to let me know. And finally, English is not my first language. I proofread and edit everything I write to hell and back but if I still misspelt anything or obviously misused a word, let me know so I can fix it (just be nice about it). There’s a lot more I wanted to put in the authors’ notes but I think it’s already rambly enough, so I’ll leave it at that. Until next time? (I’ve written a few chapters ahead and I’ll try to upload regularly, but realistically, I probably won’t manage it more frequently than once every 1.5 to 2 weeks)

[hwashotcheeto]

𝑩𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝑭𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅'𝒔 𝑴𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 (1)

Best Friend's Mother Masterlist

Chapter: One

Milf!Park Seonghwa X gn!reader

Summary: You finally meet Wooyoung's father, and he isn't who you were expecting at all.

WC: 3.3k

CW: Mostly more plot/character development, but suggestive at the end (teasing, flirting). Wooyoung is a brat (no one is surprised), Seonghwa uses pet names on the reader (darling, dear, (little) doll)

AN: Ahhh, here we go, first official chapter! There's no smut just yet BUT the next chapter will be, promise! I hope you enjoy!

Tag List: @hyunjinsjeans

You let out a huge sigh of relief as you submitted your final assignment for the semester. You flopped back onto your bed and laughed in relief, feeling your pulsing headache beginning to ebb away. 

The last day of the semester came way faster than you were prepared for. And you weren’t nearly as stressed as your normally would’ve been. 

Maybe because tonight, you and Wooyoung were leaving to go visit his dad. 

Wooyoung told you the next day after you asked that his father responded with an “enthusiastic yes,” and couldn’t wait to meet you. The last week of the semester flew by after that, and now you were here. 

You checked your phone, and you had thirty minutes before you had to meet up with Wooyoung before you started the drive back to his dad’s house. Thankfully, you’d packed most of your things the night before, so you spent your time double and triple checking everything, and collecting everything else you might need. 

And before you knew it, Wooyoung was texting you. 

Heyyyyy

I’m parked outside your dorm, I finished early

Did that essay kill you? 

Come onnnnn, we gotta go sooooooon

You ignored his texts until you were leaving the dorm. You got outside with your bags, being met with the early Winter weather. Cold air, a little bit of snow on the ground. Par for the course for northern November weather. 

Wooyoung got out of the car and helped you with your bags. “Did you bring your whole closet?” He asked as he put them into his trunk. 

“I had to, this is all I have.” 

“Oh, right. Well, you can borrow some of mine if you run out while we’re there.” 

You were going to be with Wooyoung and his dad, and maybe other family, until classes started again in January. A whole month away really was a small vacation, and you were ecstatic to be away from this building with your best friend. 

“Thanks, Wooyoung,” you said softly, hoping you wouldn’t have to bother him with borrowing his clothes. He smiled and motioned for you two to get in the car. 

And then you were off. It wasn’t a long trip, about a forty minute drive, but it felt way shorter to you. You were both incredibly relieved to be away from school, but also incredibly excited for what this Winter Break would hold. 

Your heart was pounding as Wooyoung entered his home town. He hadn’t told you much about where he grew up or where his dad lived, so when Wooyoung drove into a rich suburban neighborhood and pulled into the driveway of an extravagant house you were floored. 

The house was a minimalist, modern aesthetic. The colors were sharp and contrasted starkly, the windows were clear and clean, there wasn’t a speck of dirt anywhere.

“You didn’t tell me your dad was loaded,” you joked as Wooyoung turned off the car. But when you looked at him, he was nervous. You couldn’t really fathom why Wooyoung was nervous to be home, unless he himself didn’t want to see his father. 

But if Wooyoung didn’t want to see him, why did he bring you along? It didn’t make sense. 

“I need to tell you something about my dad before we go inside,” he started, looking down at his hands in his lap, fidgeting with them. You couldn’t help the numerous ridiculous thoughts that filled your head, trying to predict whatever Wooyoung was about to say. 

“My dad…” He was already hesitating and trailing off. Warning bells were going off inside your head. Wooyoung thought for a long while, before you could see him mentally make the decision to just rip the bandaid off. “My dad isn’t a masculine man. He prefers to dress like a woman.” 

And you sat stunned for a few seconds as to why your best friend thought this would be an issue for you. 

“Wooyoung, I’m sorry, but do you know me?” You asked. He looked up at you, and along with nervousness, guilt started creeping into his eyes. “I don’t care how your dad wants to dress or act, as long as he’s not an asshole.” 

You saw Wooyoung’s whole body relax, melting back into the car seat. He laughed softly. “Yeah, I don’t know why I was so nervous. I just didn’t want you to be surprised when we went inside to see him.” 

You nodded, and smiled encouragingly. He smiled back, and you both went to get out of the car. 

As you two were grabbing your respective bags, Wooyoung said “ah,” remembering something. “By the way, he prefers being called ‘mom’.”

“Are you sure your dad doesn’t have something to confess?” You said, half joking. Wooyoung laughed and shook his head. 

“No, no, it’s not like that. Believe me, I asked a couple years ago. He likes being a man, he just also likes looking feminine.” 

And then the nervous excitement bubbled up inside you as you both walked up the driveway, then the sidewalk, then the stairs to the front door. You could feel the mix of emotions clawing at your body from the inside out as Wooyoung struggled to grab the correct key. 

The excitement of meeting your best friend’s dad, along with the nervousness of wanting to impress him was making your stomach churn. But not in a way where you felt sick, your body just didn’t know how to calm down from everything. 

Wooyoung finally got the key out and unlocked the door. Your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest and run away. 

You walked inside and were greeted to the inside of the house reflecting the outside. Modern, stark, clean, but with tasteful decorations scattered throughout. Some paintings, statues, plants, decorative lights. 

But all of that was second to the gorgeous man in front of you. 

Wooyoung’s father-or, mother, as he preferred-was sitting on a large, plush couch to the left of the door, watching a movie. He looked over the couch and smiled at the two of you. You forgot to smile back, because you were staring in awe of how someone could be this beautiful. 

You didn’t hear what he was saying as he stood up to greet you two, because you got a full view of him and all the air left you. 

He was wearing a long sleeved sparkly sweater dress that stretched down to his knees, with sheer tights underneath. His black hair was fluffy and fell freely around his perfect face, reaching down to his jawline. 

Oh, his eyes and smile made your knees weak. You could feel nervous tremors run up and down your thighs. 

What might’ve surprised you the most was his hourglass figure. He had tits, hips, and a tiny waist. 

Oh, what a Winter Break this was about to be. 

“Hey!” Wooyoung called, and you suddenly remembered you weren’t in a dream. Both men were looking at you, Wooyoung slightly annoyed, and his mother amused. “Eomma, this is my friend. This is my mom, Seonghwa.” 

“It’s wonderful to meet you,” Seonghwa said, holding out his hand. You took his hand and tried to give the best handshake you could. His grip was firm, but delicate. Your eyes flicked down to look at his hands, and to your surprise, even his hands were feminine. 

“Thank you, it’s good to meet you too,” you babbled out, struggling to make sure your voice didn’t waver. Seonghwa smiled warmly as he pulled back, and he turned to Wooyoung to hug him tightly. Wooyoung struggled to return the hug with his bags on his arms, but he still managed to make it work. 

“Did you go out?” Wooyoung asked Seonghwa as he pulled back, looking over his mother’s outfit. “You’re all dressed up.” 

“No, but my son and his friend visiting me is reason enough to dress up.” 

You swear you could feel your head starting to get light. Wooyoung glanced at you, then back at his mother. 

“Okay, well, I’m gonna go unpack.” Wooyoung looked at you before continuing. “There’s a guest room close to mine, I’ll show you.” You nodded, and you two started for the stairs. 

“Don’t be too long!” Seonghwa called, “Dinner will be ready soon!” 

You felt your heart stutter at the mention of a home cooked meal for the first time since you couldn’t remember when. 

Wooyoung brought you down the hallway, turned to the right, and stopped at the end. “This room on the far end is the master room. Belongs to my mom, obviously.” Wooyoung waved his arms around to express his point, then motioned to the door on the left side of the hall, the one he was in front of. “This one is the guest room, and the one on the other side by the corner is mine.” He pointed to the door all the way down the hall. 

You nodded, your eyes betraying you and drifting to Seonghwa’s bedroom door. The forbidden room, your brain was telling you. You had no reason to go in there, but the idea of going beyond it- 

“Okay, dude, I can see that you were checking out my mom, okay?” Wooyoung blurts, making you whip your head back to him. You’d hoped you didn’t look as obvious as you felt, and your worst fear came true. 

If Wooyoung saw it, so did Seonghwa, and the mortification slowly took over your body as you felt your face burn hot. 

Your first instinct was to apologize, but you stopped yourself. All possible words left you, and you just stared at Wooyoung with fear and embarrassment all over your face. Wooyoung sighed and shook his head. 

“We’ll talk about this later, go unpack your stuff. Wait until I come get you.” And with that, he walked off to his room and disappeared into it. 

You didn’t even get to appreciate the gorgeous room you got to stay in, because you were too consumed with guilt to properly look over it. It was large, lavish, and comfortable, but you felt awful as you started unpacking. 

You were drooling all over your best friend’s mom the second you walked in the door. You couldn’t help yourself from feeling awful the entire time you put your luggage away. 

You jumped a whole foot in the air when you heard a knock on the door. The door creaked open and Wooyoung peeked inside. You were just finishing up as he came into the room, and you felt simultaneous relief and dread. 

Before you could stop it, words began tumbling out of your mouth. “Look Woo, I’m sorry, I know it was insanely disrespectful of me to act that way in front of your mom, I should’ve acted better and I-” 

“Woah, slow down,” Wooyoung said, holding his hands up. You stopped and swallowed back the rest of the words you thought of saying. You realized then that Wooyoung didn’t look upset anymore. In fact, he looked resigned. “I’m not mad. I think I was just protective.” He looked away for a second before he looked back at you. “I didn’t want you to think of my mom as some kind of porn character.”

“No, never!” You immediately blurted. 

“I know you’re not like that, and I’m sorry I snapped at you.” You could see in Wooyoung’s eyes, he felt remorseful. You found it a little weird, because he was justified in being upset. “People have done it in the past, he thinks he found a partner, and it turns out they liked the idea of having him as a personal porn star object, nothing more.”

The fact that such a revelation didn’t surprise you made you doubly upset. 

“So, I guess, what I’m saying is,” he started, and then sighed again. “I mean, if you fuck, just don’t tell me about it.” 

The bluntness of his request makes you choke, and you can feel your face instantly burn hot. Wooyoung finally breaks and laughs, and his laugh makes you laugh. 

You really were lucky to have an amazing friend. Not because he just gave you permission to fuck his mom, but that you could have proper conversations about issues and settle them like the adults you were. 

Then again, you both clearly still acted like teenagers, but it was like a wise man once said: There’s a time and place for everything. 

The three of you were sitting around the small dining table in the kitchen, enjoying the dinner Seonghwa had made for you all. Despite saying that it was a “small” table, there was still tons of space left over. You could fit much more food and people at this “small” dining table with how much space there was. 

The food was delicious. Half because Seonghwa was clearly a skilled cook, and half because you hadn’t eaten anything made with love in so long. The fact that it was made with love and care put into it made it taste stellar. 

“So,” Seonghwa started, looking over at you. “Why are you spending your break with us?” 

You expected this question. You’d rehearsed it a million times over. 

“I don’t talk to my parents, and the rest of my family already has plans this year.” It was the truth, but it didn’t give away too much information. Seonghwa gave you a sympathetic look with a slight pout. He must’ve realized you didn’t wanna talk about it more than that, because he didn’t push for you to explain more. 

“Well, I’m happy to have you.” You smiled and said a soft “thank you” before taking another bite of food. “You’re welcome.” 

You expected Wooyoung to be rolling his eyes with every look you gave Seonghwa, and to be annoyed with how permanently flushed your cheeks were. But to your surprise, he was giving you little smirks the entire meal, and giggling silently when your voice wavered as you spoke to Seonghwa. 

It’s like you two never really grew up. Two little kids giggling at each other from across the table, almost reminiscent of teasing your friends about their crush at lunch time. 

The big difference here is that your fucking crush is your best friend’s mom. 

And yet despite how obvious you two must’ve been, Seonghwa never commented on anything you two did. It was as if he hadn’t noticed a thing. 

You survived the rest of dinner, with light talk about how you and Wooyoung met, how school was going, your major, and more about you as a person. 

Seonghwa began to clean up when you all were done eating, but you grabbed your dishes and brought them to the sink. 

“What are you doing?” Seonghwa asked as you began to rinse off your utensils. He looked genuinely stunned, and you couldn’t understand why. 

“Cleaning?” 

“You don’t have to do that.” Seonghwa took the dishes from you. Not forcefully, but gently removing them from your hands. “I know, it’s polite to help, but I don’t mind cleaning. I actually like it.” 

“But you cooked. It’s the least I can do,” you argued. Seonghwa looked at you for a moment, then smiled. You felt your stomach flip over, and smiled back to cover it up. 

“Thank you, dear. That’s sweet of you.” 

The name shouldn’t have made you as flustered as it did. 

You spent the next few hours with Wooyoung and Seonghwa, continuing to talk, having some movies as background noise. As you sat with them, you observed their dynamic, and learned more about both of them in the process. 

Your irrational theories about Wooyoung being averse to Seonghwa couldn’t be more wrong. He was relaxed, comfortable, and he clearly loved his mom. Wooyoung was cuddled up to Seonghwa towards the end of your conversation, his head basically on Seonghwa’s chest and his arms around him. 

After the final movie, all three of you decided it was time to head to sleep. You said your good nights and went to your separate rooms. 

But despite the comfortable bed, the wonderful room, and the hospitality of Seonghwa, you couldn’t sleep. 

You looked at your phone, you shifted around, you tried walking around, but you didn’t feel tired. You were getting frustrated after a couple hours. 

You decided to go get a drink of water. Maybe it would calm you, or walking around would take your mind off trying to sleep. 

You quietly made your way out of your room and down the hallway, using the light from your phone to guide you. As you passed Wooyoung’s room, you heard him softly snoring. 

You got into the kitchen and carefully navigated to the cabinets. Seonghwa and Wooyoung both had shown you where to find cups in case a need like this arose during your visit. You didn’t expect to need it the night of, but here you were. 

You found a glass and got your water. It didn’t make you feel any better, but it did feel nice. 

“Can’t sleep, darling?” 

Your whole body jumped as you whirled around to look for the owner of the sound. You knew it was Seonghwa before you saw him, but you still weren’t prepared to see him in the archway, leaning against the wall, in a long black silk robe with flowers all over it. 

You shouldn’t have been fixated on the fact that his robe was open enough for you to see the line that ran down his chest, and the slight ridge of each side. 

He laughed softly before he spoke. “I’m sorry for startling you.” 

His voice was deeper than it was before. Smoother, almost. Like chocolate sauce. 

“It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean it,” you mumbled, trying to keep your eyes on his face. That ended up not working out as his eyes made you feel small, and you looked to focus on your glass instead of him. 

But what you didn’t know yet was that Seonghwa didn’t like to be ignored. You looked at him when he spoke to you. It was a rule like any other. The sky is blue, the grass is green, and you listen to Seonghwa. 

He walked over to you and grabbed your chin, turning your head to look up at him. Your mind went blank and your stomach churned inside you like a washing machine. A smirk pulled the corners of his mouth up as your cheeks turned red yet again. 

“There we are,” he cooed softly, his voice hardly more than a rumble in his throat. 

“Seonghwa, what are you doing?” You said, your voice wavering on every word. Amusement sparkled in his eyes as he moved even closer, his hand moving to the back of your neck. 

“Don’t tell me I was hallucinating the looks you gave me since you showed up. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice you checking me out the entire time?” 

Of course not, you knew there was a strong possibility he knew everything. He was at least over double your age, he was no stranger to all of this. 

“I just didn’t think you’d do anything.” You began to stutter more as you struggled to pick the right words. You could see it clearly, in his big dark eyes, that he was enjoying watching you fight to stay composed. 

“And why wouldn’t I? You’re a cute little doll, how could I resist?” 

Your heart gave one massive beat you could feel throughout your whole body. The air in your lungs was sucked out. Your head felt light. You didn’t feel like you remembered how to stand. 

Seonghwa laughed again, and his eyes shifted to something more hungry. More primal. “Come, little doll,” he said, pulling you even closer until you were pressed up against his chest. “Won’t you stay with me for the night?” 

How could you answer with anything besides “yes”?

Thank you for reading! Please reblog if you enjoyed! 💜

This is a work of fiction written by me. This does not represent the idol(s) in any way. Any re-upload is not allowed and will be reported.

[lucy90712]

Can you do a imagine where gavi is pretending to be mad at y/n and y/n doing several cute tactics to make him happy and he is just secretly enjoying it🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🥺🥺🥺🥺

My last lecture today got cancelled so I was able to get home before Pablo gets home from training. Quite often he gets home before me and he usually leaves before me but we mostly get to spend the evening together even if I have assignments I will do them sat with Pablo. Our schedules can be intense but we have made things work so we always get to spend time together and when one of us is having a hard time the other does things to help out. We are a good team together which I think has helped us stay in a strong and happy relationship for the last two years. 

While I waited for Pablo to come home I had my laptop out and worked on an essay that I have for one of my classes. I didn't get to do that for long before the front door opened and Pablo walked in and threw his bag and shoes on the floor. Straight away I could tell he wasn't in a good mood something had annoyed him and he was trying to keep himself calm. He didn't notice that I was home at first but when he did I noticed the look in his eyes soften a bit as he never likes to take out his frustration on me which he's not perfect with but he tries and that's all I care about. Today I could tell he needed something to make him forget about today so I forgot about my essay and decided I'd make him his favourite snack to see if that would cheer him up a little bit. 

Pablo has always loved my homemade cookies so I made a batch as quickly as I could and put them in the oven as they only take 10 minutes to cook. While I waited Pablo went and showered and changed so by the time he was back downstairs the cookies were done so I put a few on a plate and gave them to him. He ate one of them and then halved the second to give some to me and I can't lie they were good but they didn't really seem to cheer Pablo up as much as I thought it would. Whatever happened while he was gone must've been worse than I thought as usually cookies does the trick but I'll have to get more creative today it seems. 

In the past when Pablo has had a bad day he likes to watch a sitcom so I thought I'd try putting Brooklyn nine nine on as we've watched that together before and he liked it. Today however it didn't seem to make any difference he just sat there staring at the screen not even smiling in the slightest. I would just ask him what's wrong but I've learnt the hard way that it's not always the best idea to do that as it can just make him more annoyed if he doesn't want to talk and it seems like he won't want to talk about whatever's bothering him today. As a sitcom wasn't working I thought maybe his favourite show might cheer him up but yet again it did nothing his eyebrows were still furrowed and he had a look of annoyance in his eyes. 

After that didn't work I tried every other trick I have up my sleeve from showing him tiktoks of cats I saved to cuddling with him as he loves to cuddle but none of my tricks seemed to work. That's when it hit me that he might be mad at me and that's why nothing I do works as he just doesn't want to be around me. I can't think of anything I would've done to make him mad but then again he can get mad over the most random things sometimes. Seeing as I couldn't make him feel better and may be making him feel worse I decided to just take myself upstairs and work on my essay to give him time to be on his own and hopefully be less mad. 

I tried working on my essay but I couldn't stop thinking about what I possibly could've done to make Pablo mad. We didn't fight before he left for training and we were texting before my lecture and during his break in training and he seemed fine then so I don't know what I've done wrong. Thinking about all of that just made me upset as I never like fighting with Pablo as he's not just my boyfriend he's my best friend too there is no one I'd rather spend my time with than him so when he doesn't want to be around me it hurts. Focusing on my essay went out the window quite quickly when tears started to fall from my eyes as I was so worried about whether Pablo will want to break up with me because I can't handle that right now. 

As my tears started to flow properly I had to stifle my sobs so Pablo didn't hear me as I don't need him knowing that I'm crying over seemingly nothing. That's when I heard footsteps coming up the stairs and I panicked thinking Pablo had heard me crying and was going to yell at me for being too emotional. As the footsteps got closer I desperately tried to wipe the tears from my face so if he comes in here I can try and pretend I haven't been crying. Just as I feared Pablo opened the bedroom door and of course he could tell I'd been crying as I know my eyes and face were still red and puffy. He didn't say anything just walked to the bed and sat next to me so he could pull me into his arms which I really didn't expect. I looked up at him to see if he still looked mad but he didn't his expression had softened and if anything he looked like he felt guilty. 

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to make you mad" I said 

"It's ok you didn't make me mad" he said 

"Then what made you so mad that nothing cheered you up?" I asked 

"Training was frustrating and the guys kept making fun of me so I was just in a bad mood then I came home and you made me cookies which did make me feel better but then I wanted to see what else you would do to make me feel better but I see now that doing that was a bad idea” he said 

"So you aren't mad at me?" I asked

"No not at all and I'm sorry that I did that I really didn't mean to make you cry in fact that's the last thing I wanted I can promise you I'll never even do that again I'll always communicate my feelings with you so this doesn't happen again" he apologised 

"You better not do this again" I laughed 

"I definitely won't and I'm going to make it up to you" he said

He started on making it up to me straight away by laying down and getting me to cuddle into his chest as he knows that's my favourite way to cuddle. That wasn't the only thing he did he also played with my hair as he knows that I like that and he gave me a lot of kisses which always make me happier. We spent most of the rest of the day cuddling the only time we stopped was when Pablo ordered food from my favourite restaurant for dinner even though I'd told him I'd forgiven him already he insisted that he still had more to do to make up for making me cry which he said he was going to do for the rest of the week which is fine by me if it means I get to spend quality time with him. 

[marauderverse]

Maybe it was then//J.P x Reader

Word count: 1.7k

Summary: He wasn’t sure when it had started. But sometime between then and now, he had fallen for y/n.

A/n: I am posting this from my phone so sorry if the formatting is weird.

He wasn't sure when it had started.

Probably somewhere between the charms classes he had shared with her since first year and the Gryffindor party, she had somehow snuck into.

Somewhere between then and now, James Potter fell for y/n.

She stood on the other side of the common room, dancing with Lily Evans to Dancing Queen, which Mary had all but threatened Sirius’ life to let her play.

An odd warmth crept up Jame’s neck as he watched her.

The long sleeves of her shirt flowed like water down her arms as she spun lily around; he felt like a creep looking at the knot in the centre of her chest where the two halves of the shirt met. The pattern of her skirt matched that of her top; a belt with a daisy belt buckle sat at her waist. The outfit was finished with white boots that sat just below her knees.

She looked hot.

Her hair was out, something he had only seen her with probably three times in the seven years he had known her.

“What are you staring at?”

James jumped, prying his eyes away from the girls grinning face to look at Sirius.

Sirius moved forward slightly to put his face beside James, looking over in the same direction.

“Evans?” The boy questioned, downing the rest of the drink he had in his hand, “I thought you got over her?”

James sighed slightly, sipping his lukewarm drink.

“I wasn’t staring at Evans; I am over her,”

Sirius looked at his friend, a look of annoyance and confusion set of his angular features. His grey eyes flittered back to the group of girls.

It took him a few seconds of staring before he realised.

“Y/N!” he yelled.

James scrambled to turn his attention away from the girls to his friend, slapping a hand up to his mouth to shush him.

“Shut up,” He whispered-yelled.

“Y/n?” Sirius whispered back this time.

James rolled his eyes; it was obvious his friend was drunk, and perhaps spilling his secrets to him at a Gryffindor Quidditch party wasn’t his brightest idea.

“When did this happen?” Sirius asked.

That was a great question.

When did it start?

It could be in the third year when she had made reserve beater of the Ravenclaw team.

The sun was high in the sky as the captains shook hands in the middle of the pitch.

With a shrill blow of her whistle, the teams mounted their brooms and kicked off.

The game was in full swing within minutes; the crowd cheered and booed as the Gryffindor team scored three goals in the first ten minutes.

Things got better from there.

The Ravenclaw team was wholly unprepared for this match.

An hour in, Gryffindor was ahead by sixty points and the beater had fallen from his broom and they had to use their reserve player.

Y/n.

As soon as she entered the pitch, so did an entirely new team.

Gryffindor couldn’t seem to keep the quaffle; as soon as it so much as grazed the fingertips of a Gryffindor team member, a bludger was already on its way.

And it seemed the Ravenclaw players repelled the bludgers; as soon as one was sent toward a Ravenclaw, it was immediately redirected.

She was fantastic.

Even though Gryffindor caught the snitch, Ravenclaw won the match by a landslide.

Needless to say, she was a permanent part of the team from that point on.

Maybe it was then.

Or maybe he had fallen for her last year when she and Lily became best friends.

It seemed she had made a home in the Gryffindor tower.

Anytime he would enter, she would be lounging on one of the squishy sofas, toasting something over the fire or sitting in the corner pouring over some essay that hurt James' head to look at.

Perhaps it was the proximity that sparked it, the way she would smile shyly when he accidentally caught her eye, or how she seemed to get along with all his friends so easily.

Maybe it was then.

Or maybe it was earlier today when Ravenclaw lost the Quidditch cup to Gryffindor.

He knew how hard she pushed her team for this game. He had seen the Ravenclaw’s schedule for the quidditch pitch and caught a glimpse of the plays she spent hours on in the library.

She had been devastated, throwing her broom down in defeat as the Gryffindor seeker was hoisted up on the team's shoulders after the game.

He watched as she returned to the changing room, far ahead of her team.

If it hadn’t been Gryffindor they were playing, maybe James would have felt bad for her. Maybe he would feel bad tomorrow morning after the euphoria of the win and the excitement from the Gryffindors died down, maybe he would feel bad.

She caught him on his way up to the castle, now changed out of her quidditch robes and impeccably polished broom over her shoulder.

“Hey, James,” He stopped, turning around to look at her.

He saw Lily, Mary and Marlene a few steps behind her, Marlene still in her quidditch robes. There were amused looks on the girl's faces, an almost mischievous look.

“Uh, you guys did well out there today,”

The girls were giggling that high-pitched giggle they do.

“Uh, thanks, you did great as well,”

She smiled, turning on her heel quickly and running back to her friends.

They were giggling like maniacs and whispering to one another.

“Sometime between third year and now,” James admitted.

“Wow, so this is like. Super serious,” Sirius said before pausing, “Super Sirius,” He said, laughing at his stupid joke.

There was a pause between them.

“You should ask her out,” Sirius said as if this was some kind of life-changing advice he had just offered his best friend.

James rolled his eyes, finishing the last little bit of his drink.

“I would, but I just don't think she’s into me,” He confessed.

“C’mon Jamie, you’re a total catch; what naked do you think she's not into you?”

James Cringed at the nickname that seemed only to come out when his friends wanted to get on his nerves or when they were drunk.

James thought back on the last few years.

The time he had attempted to be charms partners with her, only for Y/n to barely contribute to the conversation and simply write her thoughts down instead of talking to him.

Or the time she had traded seats with Mary so they wouldn’t be beside each other in transfiguration.

Or the time he had attempted to talk to her after one of Ravenclaws quidditch practice sessions, and she had slipped out the back of the changing rooms to avoid him.

James shook his head.

He didn’t know why, what he had done, or what she had heard.

But James Potter knew that Y/n L/n didn’t like him.

“She just doesn’t like me the way I like her,” He brushed Sirius off, tuning to the refreshments table to pour himself another cup of mystery liquid.

Sirius scoffed.

“That’s not what I’ve heard,”

James paused, turning to look at his friend.

“What does that mean?” James prodded.

Sirius shook his head, his long black hair bouncing around as he did so.

“No can do; I’ve been sworn to secrecy by Evans,”

“You heard something from Lily?”

Sirius took a shot of fire whiskey from the table, his face screwing up slightly as the liquid burned all the way down.

“Yeah we were talking the other day about her massive crush on you,” He stated.

“Lily has a crush on me?” James asked.

Sirius shook his head again.

“No, Y/N's massive crush on you. But I promised Evans I wouldn’t tell you,” He explained, taking yet another shot of alcohol “Apparently, she’s super shy and awkward about this stuff and doesn’t want us making fun of her or something.”

James was gobsmacked.

This whole time.

This whole time she’s liked him back, and it took a drunk Sirius to tell him.

“So if I go ask her out now, she’s not gonna yell at me?”

Sirius laughed loudly.

“Mate, from what Evans told me,” Sirius began, lowering his voice slightly, “all you would have to do is say please, and she’d be under you in a second.”

James felt a flush at the comment.

“Shouldn’t you be annoying moony or something?” James asked, attempting to turn his friend's attention away.

Sirius lit up, a grin forming on his face.

“Oh yeah, I haven’t seen him in fifteen minutes; he's probably worried,”

James watched as his friend bounced away.

He downed the liquor in his cup before going over to the group of girls.

Mary was the first to see him coming and nudged Lily, who whispered to Marlene, who then told Dorcas, who told Y/n.

She turned, a wide grin on her face.

“Hey ladies,” he said, using all hos will power to keep his confident persona on, “Mind if i steal Y/n for a moment?’

The girls giggled, sending /n knowing looks. Marlene, before she left, stopped to whisper something in Y/ns ear.

James couldn’t hear what it was, but by the scandalised expression on her face, the way she hit her arm, and Marlenes grin, he could guess what it was about.

James turned to Y/n, her face was already red and she was avoiding eye contact.

“So, Sirius said he was talking to Lily the other day,”

Y/n blushed deeper, if that was even possible.

“Oh god,” She moaned, covering her reddened face with her hands and giggling awkwardly, “What did he tell you?”

“Nothing bad,” He hurried to say, “Well, I guess it depends on your definition of bad,” he was losing his grip.

She hadn’t moved her hands away from her face yet.

“Do you want to go on a date?” He asked quickly.

She finally dropped her hands and looked at him.

“Right now?” she asked, confusion evident on her features.

“Yeah, why not?”

James reached forward and pulled her hand into his own, leading her out of the common room.

The girls whooped and cheered as they walked past.

“Where are we going?” She asked, coming to walk in stride with him, their hands still connected.

“Just trust me,”

[runabout-river]

Thoughts on JJK chapter 265 (spoilers)

There is so much in this chapter that one could write essay after essay about its content, themes and symbolism to name a few. The best thing though is that Gege shows us that he can take the time to put deep character moments into his plot. In the last year that seemed to fall to the wayside unfortunately especially when it came to Yuji.

Yuji recreates his grandfather's hometown in the northeast of Japan to show Sukuna and Sukuna is uncharacteristically going along with it for a long time. This might be because of the special way this DE is formed, it could e.g. have a non-violence Binding Vow. Or Sukuna was just flabbergasted.

I looked the statue up that Yuji pointed to and found the Oni kenbai dance from Iwate prefecture. On the panel it's difficult to make out what the statue represents but you can see a fan in the right hand.

This panel is an extremely important one about the point of view that Sukuna and Yuji have towards each other. For Sukuna, Yuji is barely anything; he blends into the background like a ghost, maybe reminiscent of how Sukuna might've viewed his eaten twin once in his life.

For Yuji Sukuna is not a person, there is no face to him, he's just an abomination consisting of black mass. Not even CE is presented to us like that, Sukuna is just a black distortion in space able to walk on its own.

It's good that we're given this panel so early in the chapter because it tells us what Sukuna is about and that Yuji knows it.

In Japan, the Hydrangea is used to make a sweet tea that on April 8 is poured over Buddha Statues for the Buddha bathing ceremony. This is in direct contrast to Sukuna's Bath that comes from the historic practice of throwing poisonous insect and more into a pit to make them kill each other.

Symbolically, Gege tells us that Yuji will be the one to reverse Megumi's torture that he went through. Narratively, I'd like to see the Bath have more physical affects on Megumi before it gets cleaned though.

Really funny how Yuji entices Sukuna to play crayfishing with him and I count 4 missed arrows from Yuji compared to Sukuna's bullseye hit.

Also capitalism killed Grandpa's hometown.

Whats also funny is that Yuji says that he was about 6 or 7 when they moved out of that town and that he was about 10 years before he went back there again. Boy, you're still 15.

I counted 8 dragonflies on that grassy panel with many more in the Yuji close up panel. I forgot what dragonflies represented in Japan but th symbolism appeared before in JJK, once on kid Gojo's kimono and once at the base of Megumi's domain construction.

Next we get a much needed Yuji character resolution and growth while he thinks of all the people that have died on him. We see that he did put his cog mentality behind him and that he analyzed his "proper death" wish from the very first chapter and concluded that he wanted sth else from that.

Nobara is with the others on the dead list and this looks like the final nail (ha) in the coffin that is her death but the diehards (me) can still say that Yuji merely thinks that she's dead.

Take this Sukuna panel and inject it straight into my veins 💉

There is just this visceral level of disgust and mania in Itadori Sukuna that Gege has barely shown in OriginalSukuna and absolutely didn't in Megukuna. Think of the detention center, and laughing at Yuji with Mahito together or just laughing at Yuji whenever he came out as a mouth and eye. How much I've missed that.

Can't wait to see where this will go 👀

[soleilceirinen]

The Portrait | modern!Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: Thomas Shelby is your History professor at the university. One day he wants to meet you at his office and it scares you a bit. Definitely, you are not expecting to see what's waiting for you there. Modern AU.

Warnings: nothing.

A/N: this is short and maybe makes no sense but I just wanted to write something after not writing anything in months. Also, it's inspired by a real teacher I had, who kept a huge self portrait in his university office. It was horrible and funny at the same time.

Sorry for the English, it isn't my first language. There are probably a lot of mistakes but I don't feel like proofreading it more. Thanks for reading it!

Peaky Blinders Masterlist | Cillian Murphy Masterlist

In the three years that you had been studying at the university, you had never been in professor Shelby’s office. Not even once. But there were rumours, each of them crazier than the next one. They said that one of the walls was covered by a bookshelf which actually was a secret door to access professor Solomon’s office, who some people believed were his secret lover. But that was nothing compared to other things you had heard, such as not going alone to his office if you were a young woman, just in case. 

Of course, you didn’t believe any of this. Unfortunately, you had learned the hard way that sometimes people were mean and they would talk shit about others just out of jealousy, or self discontent. Some people had very sad and empty lifes. 

It didn’t make sense to you because Thomas Shelby never messed with anyone. The man taught his classes and left, unlike other teachers who tried really hard to be friends with their students, he knew where to set the limits. He was serious and a good professor, one of the best you had ever had. 

His lectures were focused on the first half of 20th Century History. Sometimes, Thomas would talk about World War I in a way that made you feel like he had been there, as if he were telling you all his memories. 

-

On Monday you got an email from him. Your heart skipped a beat, he wanted to meet you at his office. The message was brief and concise, it just said that he wanted to talk to you, along with the appointment’s date. Now you were a nervous wreck. What did he want to talk about with you? You couldn’t know, maybe your last essay was so horrible that he wanted to say it to your face and see your reaction.

Taking a deep breath, you tried to push away all those thoughts. Maybe it wasn’t a big deal and you were creating a mountain out of a grain of sand. Besides, it made no sense to dwell on the suffering if you didn’t even know the reason why he wanted to meet.

-

It had been five minutes since you arrived at Mr. Shelby’s office. The only problem was that you couldn’t find the strength to knock on the closed door. You just wanted to put off the moment as long as possible.

"You can do it. Tommy doesn't bite, you know?"

The sudden presence of someone behind you made you turn around in surprise. You thought you were alone in the empty hallway but clearly you were wrong because Mr. Solomons was standing next to you, seemingly amused. After all, his office was the one next to Thomas's. 

He was your professor too, although his lectures didn’t captivate you as much as those of Mr. Shelby. It wasn’t because they weren’t interesting, he specialised on Jewish History and cultural heritage, but the way he rambled was certainly disconcerting. Some days after leaving his class you weren’t even able to determine what he had been talking about since  he liked to spill ideas that in theory had some kind of connection with each other.

“I know, thanks for the encouragement,” you replied quietly. He placed one of his large hands on your shoulder and gave you a friendly squeeze before walking past you, as he headed towards his own office. 

-

Mr. Shelby's deep voice invited you in from the other side of the door. You entered slowly, fixing your gaze on the floor. He waited, sitting on the other side of the desk as he watched you with interest. 

“How are you, Y/N?”

The answer died in your throat the moment you gathered enough courage to look up in order to meet his blue eyes. Mr. Shelby stared at you expectantly, one eyebrow raised. You covered your mouth with your hand, the last thing you wanted to do now was bursting into laughter but you couldn’t take your eyes away from the painting.

Right behind him, almost covering the whole surfice of the wall, hung a huge portrait. It wasn’t a photograph, it looked like an oil painting on canvas. In it appeared Mr. Shelby, who was wearing the kind of clothes that men would probably wear back in the 1920’s, standing next to a majestic white horse. Slowly, your eyes moved from the painting to the man in front of you. 

Who in his right mind has a painting like that in their university office? It was the tackiest thing you had seen in a long time. Definitely, not what you were expecting to find there. 

“Y/N?”

Mr. Shelby's soft voice brought you back to reality. To the here and now. "Yes, good. And you?"

"Not bad. You'll wonder why I summoned you today," he said, as he rummaged through the piles of papers and books that littered his desk. You made a small noise of confirmation, so he continued speaking. "I really liked your last essay about the role of women in society during World War I. Have you ever been to France?"

You tilted your head to the side, for a moment nothing made sense. What did one thing have to do with the other? You kept looking at the portrait, as if the answer was painted somewhere there. "France?" 

At your bewildered face, Mr. Shelby laughed softly. It sounded as if he were letting out a gust of air. His eyes shined gently, he seemed to be in a good mood. “Yes, the country. The university’s History department has been offered a student exchange with a French university. It’s only a week but in five days you can do many things. I was talking to Mr. Solomons and we agreed that you are one of our most promising students, it might be interesting for you to go.”

"Really? I don't know what to say..." you mumbled, your cheeks turning red and warm. You wanted to cry, or laugh, or both. "I've never been to France, I don't even speak French."

Mr. Shelby found what he was looking for. He placed a form in front of you and pointed his finger at it. "Think about it. If you decide to go, fill this out and bring it to me in a couple of days. It's a great opportunity," he added.

Nodding, you took the form and put it carefully between your notes so it wouldn’t get all wrinkled. “Thank you so much for considering me,” you finally said, truly grateful. 

You looked one last time at the painted version of Thomas. His cold eyes returned an icy stare from above, with an almost cruel expression. He seemed so distant, like someone who no longer has anything to lose. It made you wonder, in the first place, the history behind the painting. Did he commission it? Why? Anyway, he could have hung it at his house, not there. 

Before stepping out of the office, you looked over your shoulder and smiled at him. What you weren’t expecting was Thomas returning the smile back at you, but he did and for a brief moment, his face lit up. That face couldn’t be further away from the hard features of his painted version. 

As you walked down the hallway you shook your head. So many nerves for nothing. It also infuriated you a little bit to think about all the shit people said about him behind his back, all rumours, since nobody ever mentioned the painting. 

However, you had something clear. Despite the bad reputation that preceded him, you kind of liked Thomas Shelby. He had the most incredible pair of blue eyes and the worst taste when it came to decoration, but nobody is perfect.

[tangledinink]

whoa, i wrote a thing. the first chapter of my tmnt "sorry, teenage mutant what now?" au is live on ao3, or can be read below the cut!!! complete with sketchy title card and dumb chapter title. do i have any real experience writing fics??? no!!! am i gonna do my best anyway!?!? yes i am!!!

“Did you drink all the milk AGAIN!? Dude!—"

“What?! You know I need an exact milk-to-rice-chex ratio in order to enjoy my breakfast, Leo!”

“Have any of you seen my dance bag? It’s not where I left it!”

“Why do you need it, anyway? Isn’t dance on Thursday?”

“Leo, today is Thursday.”

“What? No, it’s not. If it was Thursday, then my American Literature essay would be due, and I haven’t even started it yet, so there’s NO WAY—“

“If my toaster is destroyed, I will be making whichever child is responsible pay for the replacement!” The warning rang out over the general chaos of the morning.

“Oh shoot—“ Yoshi could hear the frantic scrabble of a belated attempt to rescue the burning pop tart, which Yoshi could smell from all the way in the living room. Parked in his reclining chair, the TV playing in front of him, he munched contentedly on his own breakfast which he had acquired earlier before his teenage sons descended upon the kitchen. He was not much of a ‘morning person,’ but it was a necessity if he was to eat in any sort of peace in the mornings.

This was a typical morning in the Hamato household.

Yoshi was used to it by now. The bickering, the bumbling, the hectic last-minute "wait I forgot something's--" it was all just a part of the routine. Sure, it had been a bit exhausting at times when they were all still children, and he had to scramble about like a madman each morning to ensure they had everything they needed to get where they were going. But at this point? He could more or less just ignore them and allow them to work things out by themselves, only occasionally needing to step in and offer a bit of guidance. He had always been a bit of a... Hands-off parent, for better or for worse, but he was fairly certain that he had finally found the rhythm of things over the past several years. Not that that made him a perfect parent by any means, there had certainly been plenty of occasions--

"APRIIIIILLLLLL O'NEIL!!!" The battle cry and hearty thud of his poor front door put a sudden end to his narration, and, though it happened near every day, he startled in response, just barely avoiding dropping his tea.

"April!" He bellowed from his chair, turning just enough to peer into the kitchen, where his honorary fifth child (as if he needed any more…) and next-door neighbor had just appeared. "How many times must I tell you?! If you break my door, I will--!"

"Aw, c'mon, Yosh, you know I gotta make a bold entrance at the start of the morning, or my mojo is gonna be off for the whole rest of the day! Besides, I haven't broken the door yet, and it's been how many years?"

“Bah! Haven't broken my door yet, maybe, but what about my bed frame? Or my printer? Or my third-favorite koi fish figurine?!"

"Oh, you wanna play that game now?" O'Neil countered, narrowing his eyes behind scarlet frames, crossing her arms across her chest and cocking one hip to the side. "Okay, then, how about my window? Or my mom's antique vase? Or my literal entire bathroom--"

"Okay! Okay, enough!" Yoshi spluttered with a dismissive wave of his hands. Dammit. The fact he was technically responsible for his sons’ occasional partaking in light property destruction was still, in his opinion, the most unfair and annoying part of parenting. "Fine! Break down the door for all I care! Burn the entire place to the ground! See if I do anything about it! Teenagers..." He muttered with a scowl, shaking his head and returning to his program, an exaggerated scowl on his face. The kids, to their credit, knew well enough by now not to take his rants and mumblings too seriously and quickly re-engaged themselves in whatever gossip and chatter they had previously been wrapped up in.

Yoshi smiled just the tiniest bit, listening with one ear as Donatello explained to a devastated Leonardo that it was, in fact, Thursday, bringing up evidence on his cell phone, and Raphael and April pulled Mikey's dance bag out from inside the oven, where he had forgotten it for the third time this past month.

This was not where he had imagined his life would take him when he was young. Not even close.

He would not trade these moments for anything at all.

By the time his television show was ending, he was just finishing off his tea and shoveling the rest of his bagel into his mouth. Game shows, he had found years ago, were an excellent means of timing routines, and he had it to a science by now. He pulled himself to his feet, stretching and cracking his back loud enough that his children yelled at him from the kitchen, before shuffling his way into the kitchen to begin the work of chasing the teenagers out the door.

"Alright, come on, shoo shoo! You are all going to miss the subway and be late!" He scolded, occasionally swatting at a stray child with his sleeves. "And do not forget anything, because I will not bring it to you!"

"Dad--" Leo began, his eyes blown up huge and pleading. "I don't feel well, I'm pretty sure I've got, like, a tummy bug, or something? Sooo, I should, like, probably stay home--"

"You are not skipping school just because you forgot to do an assignment." Yoshi immediately responded.

"What?! Noooo, Daddy, please, I'm really sick!"

"I was not born yesterday." He scoffed, shooting his son an unimpressed look. "And I have seen you do assignments in far less time! Besides, I'm sure April and your brothers would be happy to help."

A chorus of groans rang from around the table.

“Enough bellyaching! Come on, out of my house! Let's go, chop chop! Anyone who stays home today will be giving me a pedicure!”

That threat always worked. On cue, everyone fell into action. The boys gulped down any remaining breakfast still left uneaten, (whether it was theirs or not,) in between conversations, TikTok videos, and, in Leo's case, loud mourning about the day of the week. Donatello began to long process of buckling up the seventeen different straps on his chunky boots, Michaelangelo passed out lunches to each of his family members, narrating his culinary decisions as he went, and Raphael hurriedly tossed bowls, spoons, and plates into the dishwasher with clatters and clunks.

"I can't find my eyeliner pen-- Nardo, did you steal it? Did you go through my bag?! You DID, didn’t you!!! I am going to delete all of your Minecraft save files--"

"What?! I cannot believe you would make such an accusation, I would never stop to such petty thievery--"

"Mikey, hurry up and grab your skateboard if you're gonna--"

"OW, Dad, Donnie pulled my hair!"

"Oh, what are you, five?"

"HEY, both of you knock it off because Raph makes ya!”

"Wait, did we have a quiz in geometry today--? Because I did not study!!! Raph, this note had better be a joke--!"

After a few final moments of mayhem, Yoshi finally managed to get all five high schoolers out the door, closing the door firmly behind them with a loud sigh.

He loved his children. Truly, he did. But thank god for school.

Grumbling a bit to himself, he got to work straightening the remaining mess left behind. His sons were more than old enough to clean up after themselves and help out around the house, but that still didn't necessarily mean they did it particularly well. Maybe by their late twenties, they'd start to figure that out, if they were anything like their father. He swept up spare crumbs and wiped down the table, putting cereal boxes away in the pantry where they belonged and closing cabinet doors left open.

Boys.

Truthfully, he had very little room to complain and he knew it. Compared to the first four years of parenthood, things were a breeze. Sure, there was still plenty of work to do, but aside from the occasional exhausting day or difficult conversation, he could practically just put things on autopilot by now. He could hardly imagine how his younger self used to get through each day.

Well, perhaps he could, because, if he was being completely honest, he didn't really "get through" most days back then as much as he was bodily dragged in and out of them. But he had realized long ago that lingering on his past shortcomings was not in anyone's best interest.

With school, extracurriculars, friends and neighbors, babysitters, and a shit-ton of parenting classes on his side now, in addition to the general concept of the passage of time, given that his children were no longer children and now teenagers, he had at his disposal something that he had not had even a scrap of for years before "the move."

Free time.

It had been nearly ten years since "the move." Ten years since he and his sons had donned these disguises and bodily forced their way back into society on the back of lies and forged paperwork. Or, well, he had forced his way back into society. His children were just along for the ride-- and new to it all.

Not that you would be able to tell now, he thought to himself, smiling ever so slightly. Ten years… They had lived this way for a long time now.

It had been so long… Some days, he nearly forgot that he was anything but a man.

--------

"Donnie, here, it's your turn."

Donatello sighed loudly, pausing in whatever he was doing on his phone, (Scrolling through Twitter? Purchasing uranium off the dark web? They were equally likely,) but accepting the laptop shoved into his hands anyway.

"Why am I getting the impression that my turns are longer than everyone else's?" He questioned, his brows pinched with gentle annoyance as he glanced at the other four, all piled together on the subway. There wasn’t enough space for all of them, but even finding a couple of open seats was a near miracle this time of day, so they could make do. Stacking Mikey on Raph's shoulders and denying Leo a place to sit, seeing how it was his American Literature essay that they were taking turns writing, did the trick.

"Because you're the smart one," Leo said, his arms wrapped around the nearest subway pole, leaning so he could read over their shoulder. "This is the consequence of referring to yourself as a 'genius' all the time."

"I'm pretty sure I've always made it very clear that I'm a man of science, not literature." Donnie quipped in reply, even as he hunched over the screen, his fingers tick-tacking across the keys.

"Hey, I'm helping too! That whole third paragraph is mostly me." April protested, crossing her arms and slumping against Donnie, purposefully jostling them a bit in retaliation.

"Me too!" Mikey chirped from atop his brother's shoulders, slumped forward to avoid smacking his head on the roof. "I changed all the punctuation to fourteen-point font to make it longer!”

"Smart." Donnie hummed, not looking up, in such a tone that it wasn't quite clear if he meant it or not. Mikey beamed at the praise nonetheless, a bright grin lighting up his face as he crossed his arms over his brother's forehead.

"Look, it doesn't have to be good. It's just gotta be three pages before third period." Leo said. "I mean, Donnie could also always just hack into the school's gr—“

"Hey!" Raph barked. "We all agreed that that was for emergencies only!"

"Okay, okay, fine!" Leo sighed, a bit of sulkiness saturating his voice, holding his hands up in mock surrender. He reluctantly accepted the laptop when it was passed back over to him, propping up a knee to balance it on and hunching over to type.

"I thought Mikey set up that whole system with you. With the reminders and that agenda app and everything?" April questioned, glancing up at Leo curiously-- perhaps suspiciously.

"He did. I've just been..." He paused, hesitating in his words for just a second. "Busy."

"Oh no." April groaned.

"Not again." Donnie sighed.

"Who is it this time?" Raph asked, quirking a brow.

"What! I have noooo idea what you guys are talking about--"

"Leo."

"Okay, fine. Chase DeFerro." Leo muttered, his eyes immediately flicking to the side to avoid the inevitable reactions of his family.

"Chase DeFerro?"

"The same Chase DeFerro from five months ago?"

"Didn't you two have, like, a horrible break-up?"

"Didn't you block him on, like… Everything?"

"Didn't you say, and I quote, "If I ever have to even see that nasty bitch again in my entire life, it'll be too soon, and I swear to god I'll chop off--"

"Okay, okay! Hey, come on! That was five months ago. Things are, like, totalllyyyy different now!" Leo insisted.

“You said that about the last, like, three guys you’ve dated,” April said, unimpressed.

"Leo, have you ever stopped to consider that, perhaps, your need to constantly be in some kind of a relationship may have some kind of deeper connection to your own feelings of self-worth and the way that you assign value to--"

"Whoa there, Doctor Feelings! Chill! It's not that deep!" Leo scoffed, shooting Mikey an annoyed look. Ugh, he knew he shouldn't have brought it up. "Seriously. I'm just bored, okay? Quit trying to read into it."

"Bored?" Raph echoed, looking at the other with big eyes. "Leo, you can't treat love like it's a game like that! Come on!"

"It's not love, Raph, it's high school dating." Leo scoffed, giving a dismissive wave of his hand. “Anyway! Look, I'm only, like, fifty words short and then I'm home free. Who's got the next turn?"

"Fine." April sighed, rolling her eyes. “Only because your girl here writes a killer BS essay conclusion. But you owe me. Hand it over."

True to her word, the last-minute literature assignment was wrapped up shortly, and the remainder of the train ride was instead occupied by chatter and gossip, discussing upcoming tests and assignments in school, rumors circulating the hallways, and plans for weekends and far-off holidays. On the occasion it got too loud to hear each other properly, they’d sign to each other instead, and then switch back once it quieted down once more. The five scrambled their way off the subway when they arrived at their stop, making their way up the stairs and back to street level.

Leo inhaled deeply as he hopped up the final few stairs, his sneakers giving a satisfying thud on the concrete below them with each step. He had no complaints about the subway, (well, no more than the average person, anyway,) but there was always just something especially refreshing about getting to breathe fresh air after spending any amount of time underground. Even if the fresh air was New York City air. Call him crazy, but he'd never get tired of it.

The group began the final length of their journey, closing the three-block gap between the subway station and their high school-- most of them on foot, Mikey on his skateboard, though he was less skateboarding and more standing on his skateboard and hanging onto the back of Raph's shirt so his older brother would drag him along. Leo wondered absently if he could get away with that, too, before April's voice finally snapped him back into reality.

"You busy after school today?"

"Until six!" He replied, stretching his arms back to lace his fingers behind his head as they walked. "Dee and I have gymnastics."

“Next competition is tomorrow.” Donnie hummed, not looking up from his phone. "So we're getting in the extra hours."

"You know we've got a rep to uphold!" Leo sing-songed, his mouth stretching into a wide, smug grin. "Gotta keep that flawless record for the rest of the season."

It was very well known, to anyone who ran in such circles, that the Hamato Twins were all but sure to take the top two places in any gymnastics meet that they showed up to-- it was just a question of in what order they would do so. Of all the various sports that they participated in, gymnastics was just about the only one where it was truly a coin flip. The only other two extracurriculars they shared were swimming, where Donnie consistently took first place, and martial arts, where they both knew Leo was more likely to come out on top. But gymnastics? It was anybody's guess, and they flip-flopped from first to second just about every other event. For just a moment, Leo caught his twin's eye-- coz he knew he was thinking the exact same thing right now.

Coz he knew they both wanted to win.

Coz they both wanted to rub it in the other's face.

(Of course, they both also knew that the only reason they got to have this little song-and-dance to begin with was because Mikey was still in the age bracket below them. Wouldn't everyone be just so delighted to finally see the Hamato Twins usurped in the coming season... By another Hamato.)

“And Raph has work… Ugh! Y’all are too damn busy!” April huffed, leaning her head back and wrinkling up her nose.

“I’ve got a little bit of time.” Mikey chimed in, leaning over just enough to offer April a grin. “I don’t gotta be at dance until four. I was gonna go work on that mural I’ve got going up north. Wanna come?”

“Beats sitting at home doing homework.” April reasoned, giving a shrug. “I’m in!”

“Shweet!”

Leo smiled a tiny bit. Though he did, in fact, have complete confidence in his little brother’s ability to traverse the city safely, it was still kind of nice to know he’d be with someone else. If, for no other reason, then to know that Raph would now worry about Mikey at least 80% less during the coming evening.

“Alright,” Speaking of worrisome older brothers, Raph began his typical pre-school speech as they approached the front entrance. “No one be late. No one skip class.” Who, him? What was that pointed look for? He would never… Get caught more than once in a week. “And no one get in any trouble. Don’t do anything Raph wouldn’t do.”

“Yes sir!” The four of them barked in reply as they approached the entrance of their high school. Mostly, they were all just making fun of him. But Leo figured humoring him wouldn’t hurt, especially if it helped him chill a little bit. Raph had always taken his role as “the biggest brother” pretty seriously, ever since they were really little, though Leo wasn’t exactly sure why. He was always the one in charge whenever their dad wasn’t around, and Leo suspected he had a hard time ever completely dropping that mindset.

I mean, don’t get him wrong, Raph was just as capable of fucking around, goofing off, and getting into shit as the rest of them, for sure, he just sometimes wished he could… Relax a little. It wasn’t like anything bad was gonna happen, but Raph always kind of just had this air to him like he was expecting enemies to leap out from behind the corner and attack them at any moment. Like he always had to protect them all. Which Leo could get, sure, but, like… Wouldn’t it be kind of cool if someone did try to start some shit with them or something, just so that they could see the look on their face when they totally kicked their ass? Leo could only imagine it’d be pretty hilarious.

The five of them went their separate ways, parting with various promises to see each other at lunch, after school, at home, etc. April and Raph went one way, Mikey went another, and Leo and Donnie split off in a different direction still, heading towards the East Wing.

And as they cleared the corner, Leo whipped around to face Donnie, stabbing them in the side with a spare elbow. “Last one to homeroom gets second place at gymnastics tomorrow!” He declared, immediately taking off down the hall.

“Wha— Leo! This is unfair, I’m wearing platforms! You know I’m wearing platforms!” Donnie shrieked in protest, even as he broke into a run behind him.

Leo whooped in reply, throwing himself over the railing of the nearest staircase, knowing his twin brother was right on his tail.

-----

“Come on! Harder!!! SHOW ME WHAT YOU GOT!” Raphael roared, pumping a fist in the air. “LET’S GO! GIVE IT TO ME!”

The gaggle of six-year-olds in the water in front of him, all clinging to the pool wall, giggled loudly in response to his over-the-top encouragement, kicking their legs even harder in a flurry of limbs and dousing him in chlorinated water.

“Whoa, whoa, okay! You gave it to me! I surrender!” Raph chuckled, holding his hands up to shield himself. “Alright, alright. Good job, team! You did great today. Okay, let’s wrap up—“

“Raph! RAPH!”

“What?”

“Raph, we gotta do the ferry!” Penelope, the loudest of his students, insisted, her face all screwed up with determination. The other four children nodded along fervently. “We can’t get out until we do ferry!”

“Oh, RIGHT. Ferry. Sorry, Raph almost forgot!” He chuckled, thunking his own forehead with the butt of his palm, feigning forgetfulness, as if he hadn’t always intended to do their usual wrap-up game. Class ended with a game of “Ferry” every time, without fail, especially given that he touted it as the ‘reward’ that they had to work for each week by following directions and working hard. He shifted slightly in the water, turning his back on the kids still clinging to the wall. “Okay— hop aboard”

The five elementary schoolers squealed in delight, launching themselves off the pool wall to clamber over the teenager instead, climbing over his broad shoulders and hanging off of his arms. Raph gave a soft little ‘oof,’ at the impact, though it was mostly for show, snorting softly in amusement as Penelope all but climbed on top of his head. Reminded him of Mikey.

“Okay— GO!” She shouted once she was sure all her cohorts were fully boarded, the whole group buzzing with excitement despite the fact that they did this every week. Raph gave a soft hum of acknowledgment, slowly setting off on their lap around the pool. In the shallower end, where they started, he didn’t even really have to swim at all— He could just walk with his body lowered enough in the water to give the illusion of swimming. Or, more precisely, the illusion of ‘ferrying.’

“Welcome everybody to Penelope’s Ferry Ride. I’m Penelope, the tour girl. Over there’s the Empire State Building.” Penelope narrated happily from her perch, gesturing to the bleachers. “And over there is the Statue of Liberty.” The pool noodles. “And over there’s the Milky Way. And that’s the, uhhh, the Big Bridge…”

“Wait, how long’s this ferry ride? Raph didn’t sign up for no world tour!” Raph protested teasingly, to which Penelope sharply shushed him before continuing her narration. The other children bubbled with laughter at her increasingly ridiculous tourist attractions and descriptions. Reminded him of Leo and Donnie.

Raph chuckled softly to himself as he moved into the deeper end of the pool, transitioning into an easy breaststroke to keep them all afloat on their way. It was, admittedly, a bit more difficult to swim with five kids on his back than it was on his own, but Raph was a strong swimmer. This was no problem. Besides, it’s not like he was in a rush or anything.

Honestly? This was his favorite part of these lessons. No worrying about everyone paying attention or being involved. No worries about anyone wandering off when he had them all on top of him and undoubtedly accounted for. No stressing about remembering the lesson plan or rules… He could just swim. He knew it sounded dumb, but sometimes, with all the kids piled on top of him like this, he felt like some sort of big plodding swamp creature, floating lazily down the river with the world on his back.

He took his time about it, but he eventually made his full lap around the pool, coming to a stop by the stairs and gently chasing the kids off of his shoulders.

“Alright, come on, squirts. Ferry ride’s over.”

“Nooo!” Penelope whined, clinging to his head. “One more lap! PLEASEEE!”

“Hey, come on, you know the rules! If you don’t listen to Raph, you don’t get a ferry ride next week!” He warned, slowly peeling her off of his back. “Go on. Get outta here.” He insisted, though fondly, smiling a bit as she huffed and scowled… But she got out anyway, joining the rest of the kids running to their parents, all with towels in waiting arms, listening to the children excitedly chatter about what they learned today.

Raph smiled just the tiniest bit. He remembered when they had been that small, taking swim classes here. He, Donnie, and Leo had all been thrilled to take to the water, adoring each and every lesson.

They all loved it— Except Mikey. He recalled listening to his littlest brother scream bloody murder as their father attempted to coax him into the water, trying everything from reason to bribes to threats of consequences.

“You don’t need to like to swim, Michelangelo. But you need to be able to.” He remembered his father saying. “I need to be sure you will be safe if you ever end up in the water by yourself.”

If anyone asked, he’d tell ‘em that he took the job just to make some extra pocket money. But, at least a little bit, that was kinda why. He liked the idea of helping to keep people safe. Even if it was just teaching kids how to doggy paddle.

Doing all the small talk at the end of the lessons with the parents was definitely his least favorite part, however, and he always found himself kind of stammering and stuttering his way through it. After some short, “Oh, yeah, she’s doin’ great!” and “For sure, perfect behavior’s!” tossed at some parents, he was, thankfully, able to duck away into the office, his own towel flung over his shoulders to try to avoid tracking water everywhere.

“All done?” The office receptionist, Jessica, chirped in her usual friendly demeanor, glancing over at the other as he entered.

“Just about. I just gotta clean up as soon as the kids are all gone and we’ll be done.” He replied, ruffling his hair dry.

“Did you remind the parents that we’re closed next week?”

Raph froze.

“… Uhhhh…”

Jessica sighed a bit, glancing over her shoulder to give him a look. “I reminded you before the lesson started!”

“I know! I just— Raph forgot, okay? I can only hold so much stuff in my brain at one time before stuff just starts to fall out! I was thinkin’ about swimming stuff!” He defended. “‘Sides, it was your job to remind me to remind them! So obviously we both dropped the ball.” Jessica didn’t look quite convinced, but Raph was pretty sure his logic was solid. “Can’t we just, like, put up some flyers and send out an email and all that junk?”

Rolling her eyes, Jessica turned back to her computer and began to type. “Yeah, yeah… Can’t really do flyers, but I’m working on that email.”

“Why not? Just put a sign up on the door.”

Jessica looked over at him again, raising a brow. “You haven’t heard about the paper shortage?”

Raph blinked slowly.

“… The what.”

“Yeah! It’s a whole thing. I dunno, I guess there are, like… Paper thieves or whatever robbing all the paper stores and stuff in the city? We haven’t been able to get any new orders in for a few weeks now.” She explained.

“Paper thieves?” He echoed, incredulous. “And they... steal paper.”

“Yeah. They steal paper.”

“Who the heck steals paper?”

“I dunno! I just saw it on the news.” Jessica shrugged. “I guess the police are working on it or whatever.”

“I guess.” Raph said, shrugging a bit, though he still couldn’t help but find the whole thing a bit amusing. I mean, come on. Paper thieves? It was only paper. -------

"Dadddd!" Mikey called as he swung his way into the door, kicking his shoes off into the general direction of the pile where shoes were typically kept, tossing his duffle bag to the side. He'd come back for it later and put it away, he swears. "I'M HOMMMEEE!"

It had been a long day, in between school, painting, and dance practice, so it was almost nine by the time he got home, but he didn't really mind. He liked being busy! If he didn't have stuff to do, it was just, like, all the energy would build up and up and up in all his limbs and his body and his chest like something sticky and hot about to boil over, condensation gathering at the top of his skull, and then he just went kinda crazy. That makes sense, right? He was pretty sure his brothers were kinda like that, too, so he figured it was probably mostly normal. He sometimes wondered if that was why their dad let them sign up for so many after-school activities. The only downside was the limited time leftover to tackle homework and personal projects. Walls weren’t just gonna paint themselves, after all!

"What's for dinner?" He shouted across the house, shucking his backup off and beginning to unpack, collecting his various textbooks and notepads.

"Oh, since you were not home, Michelangelo, I have had no choice but to cook for our family--"

"Dad."

"But do not worry, my son, I am making the most delicious meal--"

"Dad."

"Boiled liver and onions! You boys' favorite! With chopped earthworms, yum yum yum!"

"DAD! You're not funny!" Mikey yelled, even though there was laughter in his voice. Their dad did this bit every time, and he hated how it was always kinda funny.

"Pizza is on the table." His father called back, and Mikey let out an excited cheer.

"YEAH BABY! That's what I was hoping you'd say!" He shouted, hopping up to his feet and beelining it to the kitchen. His brothers had clearly already done a round, based on the empty boxes and missing slices, but he knew they wouldn't dare leave him without his fair share. That's youngest child privilege. They knew damn well that he’d cry at them.

"How was school today, my son?" Dad always asked about school first and everything else second, every time.

"Id'was gooh'." Mikey mumbled, in between the pizza slice already hanging out of his mouth, piling several more slices onto his plate. "We're readin' th' O'ssey--"

"Orange, I cannot understand anything you are saying."

Mikey spit the half-chewed pizza slice back out onto the plate, which earned a really fun look from Dad, and he grinned.

"Sorry! We're reading the Odyssey in English class, which is fine, I guess, but it's kinda a lot to get through, so we're translating it to, like, real human words, annnndddd we gotta do a group project presentation thing, and I like all the people in the group project but you KNOOWWW how group projects are." He reported, rapid-fire, giving a dramatic sigh. "Oh! And I got my Algebra test back and I got! A seventy-nine!"

"Oh! Very good, Mikey. I am glad your studying paid off." His father replied with a small smile, and Mikey beamed. "And how was dance?"

"Awesome! I killed it, as per use'." Mikey said proudly, puffing out his chest a bit. "Miss Vega said that I just gotta tighten up my turns and I'll be all ready to destroy the competition next weekend!"

"Excellent. Good job, Orange." His dad said with a chuckle, patting Mikey's shoulder before making his way back into the living room, no doubt to reunite his butt with his beloved reclining chair and put on some TV series that no one else in the family appreciated. Mikey grabbed three more slices of pizza while his dad’s back was turned, and then scampered off, heading deeper into the apartment.

Considering they lived in New York City, they lived in a pretty spacious abode. Mikey couldn't remember a time in his life when there wasn't lots of room to stretch out and run and jump around. He remembered, back when he was really little, some of the hallways being big and long enough to even echo-- though he sometimes wondered if that had just been his imagination. Some of the stuff they would make up back then was pretty wild. Their dad had bought this big old brownstone apartment way back when they moved into Brooklyn, buying up the entire building so that they had all four floors, plus the basement, to themselves. Mikey recalled, vaguely, all the renovations that had gone into it when they first moved to New York, adjusting the fixer-upper into something where four very active children could be raised without feeling cramped. The building was tall and skinny, slotted neatly in with the rest of the city, and Mikey had always loved that. This meant it they had the perfect hallways for running back and forth through, and there was a surplus of staircases for him to slide down or jump over. The hardwood floors were perfect for both Tokyo Drifting and dance practice. They each had gotten their own rooms as they grew as well, with himself and Raph on the second floor, Leo and Donnie on the third, and their father taking the master bedroom on the ground level.

But the best bit was the basement. Lovingly dubbed "The Lair," their dad had designated it the hub for childhood shenanigans, (and now, teenage activity,) from the get-go, all but sacrificing the space to his sons from the moment they moved in. The house was technically his, sure, but the basement was theirs, like, for real for real. Arcade games and consoles lived down here, hooked up to the big TV on the wall and surrounded by beat-up beanbags. Raph's weight-lifting equipment was in that corner there, and Donnie's bigger, more mechanical projects were over there by the stairs, (with the yellow tape and the "do not touch" signs.") This big wide open space here with the mirrors on the walls and the punching bags mounted on the ceiling was perfect for both martial arts, acrobatics, and dance practice, depending on which kind of matting they laid out. And, best of all, the Lair was the one place in the house where their dad had reluctantly conceded that, yes, Mikey. You may paint on the walls.

The Lair was typically the best bet for finding any of his brothers, especially if they weren’t holed up in their rooms, and Mikey did think about heading down there, too… But, as very tempting as it was to hang out with brothers first and do math worksheets later was, he was pretty sure he could get through his homework in, like, thirty minutes, tops, and just get it all out of the way. Plus, this way, he didn't have to worry about anyone else making any grabs for his dinner.

With this in mind, he tromped his way up the stairs, nudging his sticker-adorned door open and dumping all his stuff on his desk, immediately shoving the previously-abandoned pizza slice back into his mouth again. He flipped open his textbooks, switched his speakers on to fill the space with some chill lofi beats to study to, and nudged his desk lamp awake as he settled in to get to work.

His workload had been pretty light recently, with way fewer teachers than usual handing out paper worksheets and questionnaires to bring home, so it didn't take him very long to get through all the assignments and readings. (Also, lowkey, it was times like these that he was, like, wow. Thank god for Adderall.) He was nearly done with the last of his work when he suddenly paused.

Dang. Artistic inspiration was truly a cruel but wondrous mistress. Okay, homework later. He scrambled for his phone, rewinding the song playing over the speakers. Ooh, yeah, okay-- That bass? Oh, hell yeah, this was really good! He could absolutely see the movement in his mind's eye-- he could picture the way the color swooped along with the beat and brightened along with the melody. Oh-- and what if he added some black outlines? What was the title of this song again...? Maybe he should look up the artist. He wondered if this would be better as a direct homage to the artist, (maybe the title up on a wall, in big curved block letters, yellows popping along the edges to pull it into the foreground, and that red in the center to sink it in--) or if this should be a more narrative piece. It made him think of that one movie that they watched two weekends ago-- with the spy and the watering can factory?! And this one line, about the lightning, he could just see the way he could paint a figure to answer that directly. Was it too ambitious to do a zig-zag line of action? Oh, but if he had the leg out like that...

He flipped the page of his notebook, his pencil skritching feverishly on the sheet as he moved to put these thumbnails into reality while they were still ticking through his mind in a slideshow. He paused only to command Spotify to play the song on repeat, his tongue stuck out of the corner of his mouth and his eyes narrowed. Ohmigosh, yes! This would be perfect. He couldn't believe he had never thought of this before. This song had been on his playlist for how long? He had just kind of been spacing out until now, but suddenly, he was so excited about this project.

And it would be the perfect excuse to use those metallic spray paints he's been hoarding! He practically vibrated with excitement, thumbing the paper with a grin. Oh, that would look amazing. Just a bold streak of shimmery color, bursting out from the composition, like an explosion, he could see it so clearly--

Half a thought later, the spiral-bound notebook in front of him burst into flames.

[ next ]

[tryslora]

learning sentence level editing

It’s no secret that I hate editing.

I’ve told this story before: When I was in high school, I had an English teacher who told us on our first day of sophomore honors English that she would not give an A for a first draft. She had a rigorous outlining/drafting process that she was determined to teach us. Me, I had undiagnosed ADHD and was a dyed-in-the-wool pantser. So I resolved on that first day that by the end of my time with her, I would get an A on a first draft.

My final essay of junior year AP English (yes, same teacher two years in a row), I wrote about Victorian morals and literature. I read it aloud. I got an A. I only ever wrote one draft.

What that taught me was how to write very technically clean drafts, something that has stayed with me for almost four decades now. Which is great!

What it did not teach me was how to be patient enough to properly edit. And I have never really learned. In fact, that is one of my ADHD sticking points (yes, I know, that’s obvious from my reaction to her statement in the story above). I often feel that a large part of the reason I have never made it as a writer—have never broken into tradpub—is because I do not have the patience to not only write, but then create an outline from the draft, then rewrite, then do it all over again and fiddle with each sentence until it’s perfect.

I’m learning, but I’ll admit, I’m still not there, and I’m not sure I ever will be where novels are concerned. 

But right this moment, I’m feeling very accomplished and proud of myself. I had a short story that every time I worked on it, it grew. Every time I cut it, it felt like it lost its heart and like the taste of the words stopped feeling like mine. My voice disappeared.

I had finally worked out a version of it that was just under 7500 words long, and I thought it was decent. It got no traction, and I was frustrated. I put it up for critique on SFFOWW (a critique group site) while I was active there a year and a half ago. It was chosen for an Editor’s Choice review, and the first half of it got some great comments. Which I promptly had to ignore because I was dealing with other editing problems.

I returned to it recently, because I saw a call I wanted to send it to. The problem was, the call was for stories under 6k, and I wasn’t sure I could cut this story again and still retain its punch. But hey. The biggest feedback I got was about how I handled my descriptions and dialog, and the amount of repetition that slipped into my words. So I absorbed that, and I dug into the story, and I started ripping it apart.

I didn’t edit it, exactly, nor did I completely rewrite it. I printed it. I read it twice. Then I placed it on the desk and went a few paragraphs at a time and started with a blank file and filled it in. Some pieces went in verbatim. Most of it changed. Huge chunks disappeared, and a few new things appeared. Some of it got rearranged. The wordiness disappeared.

Here’s an example…

Before:

"You get one hour," Lana says softly. "One hour with him, and then you're leaving him behind. You're taking your fate and you're setting him free."

After:

"One hour," Lana says. "Then take your fate with you and set him free."

The new version of the story came in under 6k. I did it, and the best part is, I don’t hate it. In fact, this was sentence level revision of a style I had never done before. The closest I’ve come to it is editing flash fiction to be under very tiny wordcounts (or drabbles of exactly 100 words, which gods, those take me longer than writing a short fic!).

I’m not sure I could’ve done this without the editing I did for Into the Split over the last many months. I had to dig into that in ways I have never edited a novel before, and it prepared me to dig even more deeply into this short story.

I’m learning. I guess you can teach old dogs some new tricks.

[cissyenthusiast010155]

Could you do these prompts, with Lady Lesso and y/n. However you want to do it I don't mind

Heyyy @principal-weems09 !! I wrote all three for you, with a song on the side 🤭 Thanks for the request, babes! Hope you Enjoy 💋

Careful What You Wish For ~Lady Lesso xFem Professor!Reader

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

#27. “If you hate me so much, why do you moan my name in the shower?!”

#40. “Right here? Really?…”

#52. “Fuck… Mommy! … Oh my, I’m so sorry, it just… slipped out…?”

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!, little angst, little fluff, little smut, strap-fucking, kissing, confession of feelings, praise kink, mommy kink, overstimulation, etc.

Enjoy (;

You’d categorize your relationship between you and Lesso as, well, complicated…

You were a new teacher at the school, and you were the first Never and Ever teacher. You taught English and History, having a classroom in the library. Adjustments had been going well. You had good connections with your colleagues, especially Emma and Clarissa.

Of course, nothing was perfect. The chunk in your armor was Leonora Lesso. She confused the hell out of you. She was snarky and a bitch. But she was like that to everyone…?

With the new joining of the two schools, Lesso seemed to have extra hatred for you, specifically. And the age gap, different level of experience, and power dynamic did not help. Hell, she was twice your age (if not more), had been teaching for decades, and co-dean of the entire school.

Deep down you also knew that something else was going on with you in regards to the one and only dean of evil. Even with her snarky taunts and wicked comments, you still got butterflies whenever you spoke to the woman. Followed by aching in your heart as you remembered the woman practically hates you.

~~~

You entered the new, Never & Ever teachers lounge with a sigh. It was your off period for the day and you were hoping to get some grading done on a literature essay you’d assigned to your students. But as you went to go sit down at one of the tables, you noticed Emma and Clarissa whispering by the couches.

Clarissa caught your gaze and immediately tapped Emma, and they both turned around, quietly beconning you to come join them in a hushed tone. You put your things down and went over to them.

“What…?” You asked.

They both shushed you and Clarissa quickly patted the chair next to her and across from Emma for you to sit.

“What is it…??” You whispered.

The women exchanged glances before pulling in even closer to the circle.

“Not to gossip—” Clarissa began in a hushed tone, but was interrupted by Emma’s hand dramatically tapped Clarissa’s thigh and a stern ‘oh really…?!’ look.

Clarissa stuck her tongue out playfully before continuing, “Anyways… Last night I was getting ready for my nightly bathing ritual, and now with the Never/Ever shared bathrooms… I ran into Leo.”

Clarissa called Lesso ‘Leo’, and Emma called her ‘Leonora’ but you never dared call her anything rather than ‘Professor’ or ‘Lesso’…

“Well not really…” Clarissa continued in her hushed tone, “I didn’t see her… I… I heard her…”

“What…?” You whispered, “What do you mean…?”

Emma smirked at your slight ignorance and her eyes flickered looked down to hide her reaction.

“I heard her moaning, Y/N…” Clarissa whispered.

Your eyes widened.

“You heard her moaning…?”

It hasn’t clicked for you yet…

“Yes. But Y/N… I heard her moaning, Y/N…”

“Oh—OhhHhh…” you stuttered, your face turning red.

Suddenly you felt Emma’s hand embrace yours.

“Don’t worry, we won’t tell anyone…” she whispered, “for either of your sakes… It’s up to you what you do with that knowledge…”

You gulped.

~~~

You had decided to do nothing about that knowledge but overthink it. The weekend had come around at a decent pace, and you were spending your Friday evening still grading those essays…

Maybe giving each and every one of your students an essay assignment was not your best idea… you thought to yourself, cringing a bit on the inside with the amount of work your gave yourself.

You took a deep breath, going to pour yourself some more tea. As you sat back down, you heard a sudden rap! of Lesso’s signature cane on your door. It startled you slightly and your cheeks flushed red, the comment from earlier rushing back into your mind.

“I… Uhh—Come in…!” You chocked out.

The door swung open as the red head entered your classroom with a strut and a slam of the door.

“Oh…—! Professor…! What… What can I help you with…?” You stuttered, your face deepening in its shades of red by the second, your eyes looking anywhere but her gaze.

“What we’re you thinking?!” Lesso snarled.

You gulped and shivers ran down your spine.

“I… What…?” You stuttered, completely frozen.

“You let one of my Never students off the hook for the detentions I assigned?!!” She jeered.

Your breath hitched and your eyes widened as the woman stalked towards you. Your lip started to quiver slightly.

“You imbecile. stupid. idiotic girl…” Lesso sneered, “You do that again and you’ll deeply regret it…”

“She… She didn’t… deserve it…” you stuttered.

Lesso was now inches apart from you, and towering above you as you trembled in your chair.

“Pathetic.” Lesso snarled, “Don’t. Do. It. Again.”

Your breathing was completely uneven and you couldn’t help the tear that escaped your eye. At this, Lesso placed her hands on either side of the chair, getting in your face.

“Right here? Really? You gonna cry like a baby…??” She sneered.

Another tear escaped your eyes and then another.

“Stop, please stop…” you chocked out, pushing the red head away.

The red head huffed in annoyance and rolled her eyes. It made your blood boil.

“I hate you…” she muttered.

“Do you, now??” You choked out, annoyed now yourself.

“Yes.” She gritted out, “You’re incompetent, useless, and diffic—”

“If you hate me so much, why do you moan my name in the shower?!” You blurted out, interrupting the red head.

At your words, a myriad of emotions washed over Lesso’s face. Then before you could say another thing, her lips crashed into yours. You whimpered into the kiss, as the red head pulled you up from your chair and onto your desk. The red head was eager to ravage your lips but you pulled away slightly. At the sign of your hesitation, Lesso immediately began searching your face concerningly.

“I… I don’t understand…” you stuttered, your eyes looking away from Lesso’s gaze.

Lesso looked down in shame.

“I’m… I’m sorry…” she spoke softly, “I didn’t mean all those things I said…”

You said nothing.

“I… I like you…” she continued, “And don’t know how to express it…”

You looked back up at her, to see her eyes full of vulnerable sadness and concern. She tried to pull you closer, but you jerked back slightly.

“Why didn’t you just say that…? Why were you so mean…?” You whispered, another year rolling down your cheeks.

“I guess I’m the cliche of ‘picking on a girl because I like her’…” Lesso chuckled lightly.

This made you giggle slightly. Lesso face lit up at your sounds.

“Maybe ask me out on a date, first…?” You chuckled.

~~~

It had been a few days since Lesso had asked you out, and you guys had gone to dinner. It had gone pretty well, all things considered. But only a few days later, as you sat in your chair, grading once more, the red head barged into your classroom for the second time. She startled you, coming up to, and so you stood up.

“What, what is it…?” You asked concerned.

The red heads pupils were blown out of proportion as she came up flush against you, meeting your gaze.

“I… I want you…” Lesso lustfully panted.

Your breath hitched at her words.

“But I want it to be on your terms… please…” Lesso pled.

You cupped the back of Lesso’s neck with your hand and gently pulled her lips forward and onto yours. This kiss was a lot more gentle than the last. Lesso was still the obvious dominant one, but she led this kiss with less vigor and more care.

“Is this okay…?” She murmered into your lips, as she guided her own hands to your hips.

You nodded breathlessly, throwing your arms around the red heads shoulders and jumping into her arms, your legs wrapping around her waist.

“More than okay…” you muttered, crashing your lips against hers once more.

Lesso moaned into your mouth at your eagerness, as she carried you out of your classroom.

Thank goodness it was late and no one was out in the corridors…

“Your place or mine…?” She murmured into the kiss.

“Yours is closer…” you muttered into her lips.

With that, Lesso moaned into your lips in agreement as she carried you to your private quarters.

~~~

Damn, this woman had resolve…

And you weren’t one to complain… She was always checking in with you, and you were to use the safe word if you were uncomfortable. But she hadn’t done anything to cause you to even consider stopping her…

~~~

“Fuck fuck fuck—!!” You cried out, as Lesso was pounding into you with her favorite strap.

“That’s it, Baby… Lemme hear your screams…” Lesso encouraged.

Lesso then hit a particular spongey spot inside you, causing you to keel over, spiraling the edge once again.

“Fuck… Mommy!” You screamed, reaching your upteenth climax of the night.

At this, Lesso froze for a minute.

“Oh my, I’m so sorry, it just… slipped out…?” You stuttered out.

“Don’t apologize, Baby…” Lesso purred, as she started thrusting into you again helping you ride out your orgasm.

You whimpered at this.

~~~

Pretty soon, Lesso brought you to yet another impending high.

“Leo M’mmm gonna cum…!!” You moaned out desperately.

“What’s my name, baby…?” Lesso wickedly purred in your ear.

“Leo—!!” You cried out.

Lesso tutted you, shaking her head.

“Try again…” she warily purred.

“Mommy please—!!!”

“That’s a good girl…” the red head purred.

~~~

Lady Leonora Lesso Masterlist

[halemerry]

I read your meta on the manipulation the Metatron used on Aziraphale, and it was such a great essay laying out every detail. When I watched the end of the episode it was early morning for me and I was super tired and I missed a lot of those details. What did manage to come through in my sleepy mind, was that I was very confused about Why This Happened? As in, I understand now that Az was manipulated, I definitely agree with that analysis, but I don't understand yet if this decision was foreshadowed anywhere in the first 5 and a half episodes. I haven't rewatched the season yet (too busy reading meta lol) but I was wondering if you had any thoughts on that?

I just feel like, other than Aziraphale saying in the first episode that it's nice sometimes to tell someone about something good you've done, now that he's not reporting to heaven, Az doesn't actually seem to care all that much in the present day about his old allegiance. I wonder if maybe that's part of the point? He didn't want Heaven anymore and so he wasn't thinking about it? After all, the show begins with Aziraphale enjoying his new life. As the interviews said, he's living his best life. Good music, good food, and the love of his life.

Because if that's genuinely the case, then perhaps the point of the season is that the soft gentle romance of the first five episodes is Who They Are, and it's just that Aziraphale was rushed and manipulated into something he genuinely did not want even a little bit.

Or maybe he always thought he could fix it, because of the Before The Beginning where Crowley said, "If I was in charge, I'd want people to ask questions." Maybe that planted a seed in Azi's mind. Maybe Azi does want to run Heaven, only in a way that Crowley could be proud of it again. Fix it FOR Crowley. Even though Crowley doesn't want that (and Azi maybe doesn't understand that yet).

I came into your askbox intending to ask a simple question about your thoughts, but I have instead written an essay and asked for one in return. Consider it a quick temptation lol

Temptation accomplished hehe - though a little later than I'd have liked. No though genuinely I love this sort of thing a lot and really appreciate all of it. Anyone please feel free to do this at any time!

But uh so. Since that first meta I've done a lot of stuff breaking down that last scene here and also breaking down Aziraphale and the minisodes from this season here. Both of these operate ascribing to the idea that Aziraphale has been threatened into pseudo compliance on top of the active manipulation the Metatron was doing to him. I'll admit this is the theory I currently favor. But, while that's something I find more thematically interesting and also in more narrative alignment, I do still think there's narrative weight to this on its own.

And I think in the case you've got it dead on with the idea of fixing Heaven FOR Crowley.

Most significantly I think this is viable in the way Aziraphale views Crowley. Like. We know he thinks Crowley is Good and that he has thought this for a very very long time. Arguably his instincts have been telling him this since even before he could consciously put it into words given that even as early as Eden he was being honest with Crowley - a thing he even then did not feel he could do with God Herself. Despite being Fallen, Crowley is safe. Crowley is right. Crowley is Good.

Despite is important here. Because it is notably not and. The lesson being taught here is not that Hell can be Good. In fact Crowley himself actively encourages this idea. I'm not taking you to Hell because you wouldn't like it. My lot don't send rude notes. I need a weapon that could destroy me to keep me safe from Hell. I'm a demon: I lie. A demon could get in a lot of trouble for doing the right thing. I'm a demon, demons aren't nice- You're an angel you can't be tempted. You're an angel - you can't do the wrong thing. All of these things in culmination with the way Crowley talks about his Fall to Aziraphale - I didn't really Fall just sauntered vaguely downward - sets Crowley up as unique in the way he transcends what he is.

Meanwhile Aziraphale has been learning the hard, slow way that the people running Heaven do not necessarily have good intentions and more critically that they are not in alignment with what God actually wants. The problem is the management. The angel who would become Crowley said as much himself.

He has every reason to believe they fix it together too. He now knows that together they can perform archangel tier miracles while they're both actively trying to hold back. He knows that even when they're making mistakes and fumbling through the apocalypse they can help defy the world ending. He knows that they are perhaps the only two beings alive that even remotely understand God's will.

So here's Aziraphale given the opportunity to put himself in charge along with theoretically the single most Good being he's ever met. Of course that's appealing. You could give the person you love the power to create again - something we are explicitly shown at the beginning of this season to bring the angel that would become Crowley more joy and delight than we have literally ever seen Crowley have on screen - and the power to create a world together that actually deserves to have that person? You could undo something that you've slowly been coming to terms with believing should have never been done to him in the first place? You could be Adam, rewriting the end of the world and making it so the Bookshop never burned. All you need to do is change the color of the paint job.

Because he'd never change Crowley. He loves Crowley. Crowley is Good already it's not about making him better. The bit with the Bentley is the scene this season that encapsulates this sort of worldview most. Aziraphale changes the color of the car (which is being presented to us as literally physically linked to Crowley) but not the model. He changes how it looks just like Crowley changes into angel wear without a second thought. Neither change the core of what they are, just the aesthetics. And Crowley is always trying on new aesthetics without letting them change who he is. From Az's perspective why would this be any different?

He doesn't realize that sometimes even if you make it so a Bookshop never burnt that doesn't mean the memory of it doing so ever leaves. You still line the shop with fire extinguishers. You still swap to battery operated candles. The memory lingers as they always seem to do.

Crowley can't ever go back. Won't ever go back. Because the trauma of the Fall draws a clearer line for him both in his own identity and in his worldview than it ever could for Aziraphale who came to his own much more slowly. And because of that it's easy to see a reading of Aziraphale that can't see the specific way what he's saying eats at all Crowley's insecurities because all he can see is what they're capable of together and how that aligns with the greater good. It's all part of God's plan, just like they've always been.

[luvsae]

hey! could you write how hyunsu would react to the reader having a panic attack?

I‘m kinda struggling with this lately.. thank you in advance❤️

first off - i hope you're okay anon. if you ever need someone to talk to im always here ♡ i hope this request can bring a bit of comfort to you :)

5 things | cha hyunsu

- hyunsu helps you during a panic attack and comforts you.

- cha hyunsu x gn!reader

- angst with eventual fluff

"What are 5 things you can see?" Hyunsu asked.

"Huh?" You looked at him through your blurry vision. The tears in your eyes were blocking your vision, but you could still see Hyunsu a bit.

"It's a technique that someone taught me. It helps distract your mind and ground you," he explained, rubbing your back gently. "So, what are five things you can see?"

How did you get into this situation? Well, it started when you were stressing over University work.

Hyunsu knew you were stressed and suggested you take a break. You were grateful that he was caring about your health, but you explained that the work was too important and you needed to finish the first essay but tonight.

The due date wasn't until next week, but you enjoyed handing in your work earlier so you wouldn't have to stress about it once it was closer to the due date.

That tiny bit of stress expanded once you realized you entered the wrong prompt for your essay. You were halfway done too.

This resulted in you bursting into tears. Of course you still had until next week to finish it, but you had other essays to do as well.

Hyunsu heard your sobs and instantly rushed in.

"What's wrong?" He asked, now standing in front of you.

"I-" A sob was caught in your throat. "I did the wrong prompt for this stupid essay. I was almost done too and now I have to waste more time writing another one. I still have so many more to do."

"Hey, hey," Hyunsu knelt down, turning your chair to face him. "It's okay. I know it's hard, but it'll be okay."

"If I don't get this done, then I'm screwed." Your voice was wobbly, and you felt your breathing start to get shorter.

The panic attack was setting in.

And now led you back to where you were in the moment. Hyunsu was asking you five things you can see.

You rubbed the tears from your eyes and looked around. "Uh, I can see the table, my computer, you, the picture of us on the wall, and your slippers."

"Good," he smiled. "Now 4 things you can touch."

You looked at Hyunsu and nodded. "Uh, I can touch your shoulder, the desk again, my pen, and my knee."

"Okay, good," Hyunsu smiled at you. "Now 3 things you can hear."

"I can hear your voice, my voice, and my computer fan," you replied back. "I really need to get a new laptop."

"It is a bit loud, huh?" Hyunsu joked, you laughed a bit at his joking. "See? You're already doing better. Now I want you to tell me 2 things you can smell."

"I can smell the air freshener and your cologne. It's really nice, by the way. You should get it again." You complimented.

Hyunsu gave you a cheesy grin, making you laugh again. "Thank you. I will get it just for you. One last thing to do - what's one thing you can taste?"

"Taste?" You quickly took a piece of your mint gum - it was sitting on your desk in front of you, then unraveled it and put the piece of gum in your mouth. "My gum."

"Cute," Hyunsu nodded. "How do you feel on a scale from one to ten. One being the worst and ten being the best."

"I feel like a five." You told him truthfully. "But that did help. Thank you."

"That's okay," he responded. "Here. Come with me for a moment."

Hyunsu stood up and offered his hand to you, which you took. He guided you to your shared bedroom.

For a moment, you looked around the room at the decorations everywhere. The memory made you smile - it was when you two first moved in together.

The both of you were nervous but really excited to live with one another. To get rid of the nervousness, you decorated the room together.

There were fairylights and posters almost everywhere. There were two desks beside each other on the left side of the room which your computer sat beside Hyunsu's.

It was Hyunsu's idea to sit beside each other whole gaming. You thought it was adorable, so of course, you agreed.

The two of you would pick a game each night and play until the sun woke up. Although you would be tired, it didn't matter because Hyunsu was there.

Hyunsu was always there for you, and you always returned the same back to him.

Your boyfriend led you to your bed and sat down with you. "How are you feeling now?" His voice was gentle as his hand rubbed up and down your back.

"I feel better than before," you answered back honestly. "The anxiety is still lingering a bit, but I can get past it."

"Good," Hyunsu pressed a kiss to your cheek before quickly pulling away. "Wait- can I kiss you?"

You let out a quiet laugh, then connected your lips with his. He was surprised for a moment but eased into it. You eventually broke it. "Of course you can. We're together, honey. Kiss me anytime you like."

"Okay," he flashed you a genuine smile once more. "If you ever need to be comforted, I'm here for you."

"Thank you, Hyunsu. I promise to pay you back, okay? How about we... watch something tonight?" You suggested.

"That sounds amazing," he said. "Whatever we do, I'm just happy to be with you."

"I love you." You blurted out.

"I love you too."

[capricioussun]

How do you interpret US Papyrus? I'm always curious how others interpret him because there's a good range of them!

Ooh, in general?? Hm, I guess mostly the way I try to interpret him is sort of like if you gave UT Papyrus chronic fatigue and issues tied to having to act as the judge in his world! Which, to me, basically makes him very silly, kind, sassy, but also very insecure and very lonely.

I should explain- ough this is gunna be an essay so there'll need to be a readmore soon aha, but I should explain how the whole "judge" thing usually works in my interps!

It's not an inherent thing, or some "angel given" power, there has always been an acting Royal Judge, someone the crown had appointed that they felt they could, well, trust the judgement of, who they could consult about crimes and justice and whatnot. The prior judge Fell some years ago, but since Toriel/Asgore had already left, Asgore/Toriel never appointed another, as a sort of self punishment as well as a promise they would continue with their task of collecting the human souls without the assistance (or interference) of someone else.

That was until Sans/Papyrus came along. The "judging" effect was caused by one of the many methods Gaster used to make the brothers, involving the justice soul trait. This is where the KR came from, as well as the unique ability to "see" the sins in others' souls. After discovering this unique ability, eventually the king/queen asks Sans/Papyrus to act as the new judge (as well as some other reasons that vary depending on AU).

Now, the kr and "judge" ability manifested in Stretch much later than the sanses in non-swapped AUs, which made it a much more difficult transition that only made it much harder for him to socialize with others. He basically couldn't "turn it off", which, on top of feeling incredibly guilty about the invasion of privacy, made him feel anxious and stressed out and couldn't help but put the negative thoughts front and center in his attention, making him also feel like those were the most prominent thoughts and feelings of those around him.

So like, you know how anxiety and self image issues make you feel like everyone secretly hates you or finds you annoying or etc etc etc, basically, he had "proof" that was true, and despite trying his best to ignore it, things are already hard enough for a pre-teen/teen, on top of his physical health taking such the dip it did around that time, too, he quickly became anxiety riddled, isolated, and miserable.

Before then, he was actually a lot like Rus (UT) when he was a kid! And it was hard on Blue, too, since he was practically just a teen himself, so for all of that to land on his brother as well as needing to work harder to take care of him when he had bad health flares, things were rough for a while there.

That being said, Blue did help in keeping Stretch's mental health from completely plummeting, always trying to keep his mood up, encouraging him, trying to find him friends (how he met Undyne aka Sylv!), etc etc, and the brothers grew a lot closer in that time, as Stretch had always admired Blue, and it meant a lot to him.

That was until, of course, things never got any better. His health continued to decline into older teendom/young adulthood, and there was some personal drama here and there, especially involving Sylv, and when Blue joined the guard, that was the last straw. Stretch was sick of feeling like such a burden on everyone, so even though he'd initially turned Toriel down to act as judge (knowing his brother absolutely hated that she'd even asked him in the first place), he went back to her and accepted. That was really when the distance between the brothers started, which wasn't helped by the resets starting up soon thereafter.

(Quick aside, as he got older, he did get the hang of controlling his "judging" ability, and "turning it off" is no longer an issue for him later on)

So in his efforts to become more independent, he worked a lot on his social life and how to interact with others and make himself well liked. Sure, maybe he doesn't really have any real friends, and people forget his name all the time, but he'd finally learned how to utilize his heightened intuition to get along with people, rather than weird them out.

He’s still riddled with anxiety and self worth issues, but he’s gotten incredibly good at masking, and typically comes off as very relaxed and friendly. He’s a big fan of wordplay and very mild practical jokes (like those types of gags where you put on Groucho Marx glasses and pretend to be someone else. Blue always plays along for the bit), but he has a tendency to hold people at arms length, and tries to avoid others actually getting to know him.

Very few people know he’s the judge, and he prefers it that way, he'd rather everyone underestimate him so he never disappoints. That being said, he does still make quite an effort to help those around him without their knowledge, and he’s still lowkey very interested in engineering and computer science. Him and Rus are definitely two peas in a pod when it comes to interests, they could talk about comics for hours on end, but the primary difference is that Stretch tries much harder to hide how much he cares, where as Rus will shout it from the rooftops.

I'm not a big fan of the characterizations that make him a huge brat, sometimes even an outright jerk, I don't really understand them since neither Sans nor Papyrus are like that, but w/ my guy, he’s definitely a huge dork and sweetheart, who just also happens to be very sassy at times ahdjfjsksk

He also still holds on to his belief in others, like Rus. Even despite literally knowing better, he’s also been proven right too many times to lose that hope, which is why, in his fight, as opposed to UT Sans, he gets very quiet and looks miserable. He genuinely doesn't want to hurt them, but he knows he’s out of options. When he offers an out before the fight, he won't spring a surprise attack, and just offers a genuine hug. The player doesn't get a choice after accepting, they kill him, and his final words are pretty similar to Rus' about knowing they can do better, and he believes in them anyway, though he makes a comment about that sounding pretty stupid with a laugh before he collapses off screen.

WOW this got longer than I meant it to I'm sorry huge lore drop instead of just general facts ough BUT ! Idk, hopefully this gives a half decent feel for how I interpret him! I love him a lot I'm mixing him into a salad like a crouton <3

[nohoney]

waiting for a drabble where reader fights one of touya's/keigo's side pieces jkjk 😭😭

my girl gets done so dirty

u know what u right. takes place a between pt 4 and pt 5

Sometimes you don’t make the best decisions when you’re emotional, and you can admit that. There’s plenty of witnesses that can attest to that. Your family, friends, past relationships, and your boyfriends can all confirm it. You try not to act out, you know it only causes you more trouble, but sometimes you just can’t help needing to do something about it.

“Where’s my phone? I haven’t heard from it for the past hour.” Touya is checking all the places he swears he thought he put it down on. He’s already cut and packed the goods, he just needs his phone to confirm the meet up location. He can vaguely recall it but he needs to double check. He’s already running a little late because you got mad at him and stormed out, and he was happy to have you out of his face to get some breathing room.

“Goddamnit! Where is it?!” Touya mutters to himself.

He runs a hand down his face, trying to recall everything in the past hour or so.

You were making dinner while he was in the shower. When he came out, you told him that he got a message and that someone was asking for more pressed pills. He remembers you getting snappy after handing him his phone because the messages were from one of his female clients. He tried to let your attitude go at first by ignoring it, only reading over whatever request was made to him and thinking about how much he has leftover to sell. You dug into him if it was one of the ones he’d fuck on the side, which he tried to avoid at first but eventually he got fed up and answered honestly.

The same argument ensued with you being jealous and him insisting that it always means nothing.

He got fed up and so did you. He remembers tossing his phone onto his couch and stepping outside of his front door to try to calm himself down. Then you walked out a few minutes after him, taking your bag with you and stomping out. He didn’t bother trying to stop you.

The couch was empty though aside from the two stupid stuffed animals you insisted on being there. It didn’t fall underneath or wasn’t in between the cushions…

It finally dawned on him.

You took his phone.

Touya cussed out loud and hurried back inside to grab his keys and wallet. What you were planning to do with his phone, he wasn’t sure but you were gonna fucking get it from him!

The first place he rushes to is Keigo, having taken a day away to focus on a big essay that had been on his mind for the past month.

“Fuck! What are you doing here? I said I needed to concentrate on this-“ Keigo jumps when Touya barges in.

“Call my phone! Now!” Touya talks over Keigo when he spots him sitting on the floor of his bedroom. His nostrils are flared and he’s gripping his keys tightly in his hand. “She took it!”

Keigo makes a face at him, clearly a little disgruntled that his studying time was interrupted but he does as told. Clearly another fight ensued and he starts to ready himself mentally to calm things down. It’s not like this was the first time you acted out like this; last time you got really upset, you took Keigo’s car without permission. He picks his phone up from beside him and brings the phone up to his ear, his face peeking up when the phone call is received. “Dove? Hey, what’re you-“

Touya snatches the phone out of his hand to speak to you himself, “(Name)! Tell me where the fuck you are right now! I am not fucking playing around right now!”

“Fuck you Touya!” you yell at him through his phone before hanging up.

Oh you are definitely fucking in for it when he gets his hands on you.

“Christ, you really pissed her off huh?” Keigo comments as he begins to put away his study materials. His concentration is broken so there’s no point in even attempting to try to get his studying back on track. “What’d you do?”

His head jerk down to look at the blond. His face is set in a frown and his face says exactly what is on his mind: what do you mean what did I do?

Keigo holds out his hand for his phone back which gets handed back without question. He looks over his screen, typing something out but speaking to Touya without needing to look up, “We’ll just have to wait for her. She’s gonna come.”

Touya plops himself down onto the bed, turning his head to inhale the scent of laundry detergent and Keigo’s cologne from his bedsheets. It’s comforting and woodsy and calms him down a little. He’s still angry at you but Keigo is more of his voice of reason than himself. “What makes you say that?”

“I just texted her to come here.” He answers plainly.

“And she’ll listen to you?” Touya huffs.

“Well I didn’t yell at her so she’s more likely to.”

Sometimes it really gets on Touya’s nerves that Keigo has it easier and seems to handle you better. It makes him deeply insecure at times and also jealous. He has to remember though that he couldn’t maintain you all by himself.

Keigo leaves the room briefly and comes back with a glass bottle that’s half full of clear liquid. He holds it up in silent question and Touya merely sighs; he might as well pass the time somehow.

It’s past eleven when Keigo’s front door opens and both the boys turn their head at the sound of it. They hear you take off your shoes rather loudly and you slam the front door that makes the apartment shake. “Hey… I’m home.” you answer tiredly when you walk into the living room where they made themselves comfortable.

“(Name), what happened?” Keigo asks, taking in your appearance before getting up on his feet and helping you to sit in a chair.

Touya is stunned too, trying to find the words to say to you himself.

You’ve got a busted lip, scratch marks on your cheek, and part of your shirt is ripped which you’re holding up with one hand to keep from falling down and exposing your bra. When he looks closer he sees dried blood under your nose as well.

“Doll, what did you do?” He asks you, almost sitting on the edge of his seat for you to tell him. Instead you simply slam his phone down on the table to show the front screen is slightly cracked.

You avoided the question and turn your head away when Keigo tries to wipe at your face with a wet rag. “I’m gonna shower.” You announce and stand up, a pained look coming onto your face but you try to hide it. Keigo offers his help, making you lean on him as he helps you to the bathroom.

Touya inspects his phone and he’s relieved that it’s still functioning. The first thing he opens is his messages and he sees unopened texts, some of his customers wondering if he’s available. They wouldn’t have known that his own girlfriend jacked his phone and that’s why they were ignored. The most recent message at the top was from the girl that he was supposed to drop off before the argument he had with you. The messages were from you pretending to be him, finding out where she was supposed to meet, and a bunch of flirty emojis from the girl.

Oh he knows for sure that must have set you off.

You’re not one for violence but maybe he has to rethink about letting you into his phone if this something that’s going to come up. You driving off in his car was one thing; you taking his phone to fight someone he sells to is another.

He looks more at the text chain, noting that you made her change both the meet up time and the location to a different area. There was some reluctance on the other side but she eventually relented after you made some dirty promise, which he wouldn’t ever do with anyone except you.

A new message pops up from the same girl:

[11:35 pm] this girl attacked me out of nowhere while i was waiting! she hurt me really bad :(

Smart little thing, aren’t you?

Or maybe the bitch was just dumb.

Either way, you got the drop on her and Touya’s impressed.

You deserve a little something.

He stands up to go to the bathroom, pushing the door open to see you curled up in the bathtub and Keigo lathering shampoo in your hair. Both sets of eyes look to him as he holds up his phone. He approaches the tub and kneels down next to you.

“Open.”

You drop your mouth; Touya places half of a pill on your tongue.

The pill that he was supposed to sell tonight.

You swallow and wince at the taste of it on your tongue. Touya kisses your forehead, gently brushing his thumb along your bottom lip at the cut. You let out a little whine, your lip definitely sensitive and a little swollen and it makes him want to kiss the hell out of you.

“I fucking love you.” he tells you with a smile.

You hold your knees tight to your chest, resting your cheek on your knee and humming when Keigo pours water to rinse the suds out of your hair. “I love you too.”

When the pill hits you and you’re so giggly as you run your hands through Keigo’s hair, squealing in excitement when he smothers you in kisses all over your face, Touya blocks the bitch on his phone. He tosses his phone off to the side, uncaring that it clatters to the floor seeing as you already did some damage to it already.

He grabs your face in his hand, adoring your pretty eyes despite your big pupils taking away most of the color he likes to gaze into and kisses your forehead.

“Touya… I love you.” You ooze affection before leaning into Keigo and nuzzling him, giving him equal affection as well. Touya sits back, just a little happier and a little more in love with you.

[player1064]

If you're still doing prompts: I just saw the rooney pic set and the beckham with carra and just either of Carraville being a hot commodity? Other people having crushes or being into them? And maybe them being obvious because they only have eyes for each other or so? Or being possessive

alright lads I am BACK (the essay uh. dont even worry about it.) I've been distracted from drabbles with a) my beville wip which is getting. long. and b) making a gary character thesis statement video which is also getting. LONG.

Anyway I was gonna do a Gary half to this (w/ Stevie and Michael Owen) but it's already at like 1.2k words with just the Jamie ones so if anyone wants me to write the Gary half u will simply have to send more asks adksjfkjdasfsvdsa...

---

Wayne is young, and excited, and he’s scoring a lot of goals.

England is fantastic, it’s a break in the routine, a chance to play with new people. A chance to prove to the whole world that he’s the best there is, that there’s more to the buzz around him than just talk. And there’s so many United players in the squad, there’s no fear of feeling lost or out of his depth.

Except, the United players are all senior United players, that little gang of Phil, Butty, Scholesy, and of course their ringleader Gaz.

Gaz is great, but Wayne has to put up with him every day of his life and he’s not sure he can stomach spending his free time at England camp listening to his ranting when he could be doing literally anything else.

The first time he’d been called up he’d still been with Everton, and being the only player at the club to get in the squad he’d not known anyone when he got to training camp. The Liverpool lot – or rather, Jamie Carragher and his less enthusiastic mates – had adopted him, but now just a few months later everything is different, because now he plays for Manchester United.

It’s stupid, really. The club rivalry stuff. The ‘stick with your own teammates’ stuff. David Beckham doesn’t play for United anymore, but he’s still sat at their table every day, saying stuff that’s not even that funny but that makes Gaz do this stupid over the top laugh that Wayne never hears at any other time.

Gaz’ll have a go at him for it, but he’d rather go sit with Stevie and Carra.

They’re sat at a small table in the canteen, just the two of them and Mo. Except Carra’s not sitting next to Mo like he did last season, there’s no easy banter flowing between any of them. Wayne ignores the tension, or maybe he just doesn’t notice it, and he takes the long awaited opportunity to sit right next to Carra.

Gaz likes to complain about the Scousers, and about Carra in particular. He can’t stand him, thinks he’s after his position in the squad or something, like anyone would want to be a right-back. Last time they’d played Liverpool, Gaz had sat in the dressing room moaning about how Carra was a ‘pathetic little whiny bitch’ and how ‘he’s the most miserable looking footballer I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting’.

Wayne’s not sure where Gaz is getting that from, he’s always thought Carra was quite nice. Friendly, even.  And he smells nice, which is unrelated but feels like it’s worth mentioning.

Even now that Wayne’s at one of his club’s biggest rivals, he still gives him a little smile and an “alright, Wazza?”

There’s a little flutter in his chest, and he grins back. “hiya, Carra. How’s things in Liverpool?”

Carra squints at him. “Did Neville send you over to spy on us?”

*

David is under a lot of pressure.

This was meant to be his last tournament, one last chance for him to finally do it, and now he’s sat in the dugout and every newspaper in the world is asking what his job is meant to be, exactly. He’s not a coach, his latest injury ruled him out of the squad months ago, but he’s still here, and everyone is still watching.

It’s weird, to be away with England and not have Gary by his side. He’s in a hotel in South Africa and he should be going out, enjoying the fact that for once he doesn’t have to be fit to play, but instead he’s staring at the door wishing Gary would walk through and complain about something.

It’s probably not fair to say that he misses Gary (you’re the one who left, you prick), but well – he does miss Gary. He always misses Gary. It’s a world cup, he should be here.

If he’d known, four years ago – if he’d known. He’d’ve done better, tried harder. But what thirty year old thinks they’re at the end of their international career?

So he’s here, now. He’s not a player, not a coach, he’s just David Beckham. Apparently that’s enough. The squad is changing, shifting into something unrecognisable. The senior players don’t bother with the club rivalry thing so much anymore, there’s not enough of them from each club to really justify it. So at lunch he sits with Frank and JT and Gerrard. And Carragher, who’s not got enough caps to really be a senior player at England, but who’s too old now to count as anything else. He’s always around, anyway – sticks to Gerrard like his shadow.

And sometimes – sometimes, David finds himself looking.

He’s all alone out here. He’s under a lot of pressure.

It’s been years, since he’s done anything like that. Four years, in fact. And it’s not that he’s just substituting one defender for another, but he sees a lot of Gary in Jamie. Always cross about something, always moaning. Always pushing himself in training as hard as he possibly can, always pushing the others to do the same.

And he’s not bad to look at, either. Though David’s not sure if that’s a point in his favour or not, he’s always had a bit of a soft spot for the awkward, ugly ones. Or maybe just for that one specific awkward ugly one.

He’s not quite sure how to broach the subject, spends a few days agonising over it before deciding to just get on with it and go knock on the man’s door.

Carragher squints at him when he opens the door. “Does the manager need me for somethin’?” he asks cautiously, like maybe he’s not sure what David’s job is meant to be either.

“Nothing like that, just wondered if we could talk.”

Carragher doesn’t respond, just crosses his arms and waits for David to talk.

“Um, I was thinking more like – in your room?” he says, trying to load as much meaning as he can into the words since Carragher seems a bit slow on the uptake.

Carragher waves him in and he walks ahead to sit on the end of the bed.

“If this is about that fight I had with your mate a few weeks ago, he’s the one who fuckin’ started it.”

“I – what?”

David’s not quite sure when Jamie would have had opportunity to fight any of his mates, or even which mate he might mean – they don’t exactly run in the same circles.

“I swear, he’s always in the referee’s ear, mouthy cunt.”

Ah. Gary.

He wonders when the last time United played Liverpool was. He wonders when the last time was that he asked Gary how a game went.

“We have nothing to do with the referees,” he says automatically, before remembering that he’s not really part of the we anymore, hasn’t been for a long time.

“Yeah, yeah. Well tell your little boyfriend that if he still ‘as a problem he can say it to my face, but it was his man who dived, not mine.”

“That wasn’t why I – you know what, never mind.”

[the-derpy-duck]

Quickshadow is amazing the essay

This is for @cayennesugar and cayennesugar only

Quickshadow is a Rescuebots character that appears in the show’s fourth season. She prefers to work solo and is absolutely perfect.

She’s obviously skilled in her craft and she knows it. She is confident and snarky but she’s also not a villain which I like. She’s not a braggart, but she doesn’t pretend that others are better at a job then her. The first thing she says to Heatwave when they first formally meet is that he is short. I didn’t really get why people shipped them together but some of what she does could be read as flirting (theirs an episode where she appears and when Heatwave asks why she’s back on Griffin Rock she says something along the lines of ‘I thought you missed me’ in a sarcastic tone). I don’t personally ship them but I see the appeal. Heatwave and Quickshadow have a very interesting relationship to me. I want to see them interact more because it’s fun.

When she was assigned to work with the rescue bots she seemed sort of upset when Blades said Heatwave didn’t like her (looking at her face she seems a bit more surprised) which I think is interesting. She doesn’t intend to offend Heatwave and probably wanted to be on good terms with him. She doesn’t do teamwork and seems to be introverted but that doesn’t mean she would be opposed to the idea of ✨friendship✨ and I do think that they would work well together, especially after the episode where she was put in charge. Teamwork is something that she did need to learn, but she still chooses to work on her own because that’s what she is good at and how she best works. She has her own system and I respect that. I also like that she wasn’t really an antagonistic force or rival to the rescue team. She was actively helping before she revealed herself and was teaching the team a lesson that they would need to learn eventually. Chase was prepared for the issue that arose when the plan went wrong and she was able to learn.

I absolutely love her transformation. It’s probably my favorite in the show because it does a good job of conveying her personality. She is quick witted and has a tendency to show off. She has a strong skill set and is well coordinated. I just really love the way it looks, it’s one of the smoothest bits of animation in the show. And her design is fantastic! She isn’t given boobs that would be out of place amongst the others and doesn’t have eye lashes or lipstick like other female transformers have had in the past. The main way you’d tell the difference in gender is her voice and the fact that the others use she/her pronouns when referring to her. Her head piece is also quite unique, the darker color contrasts nicely with her mostly white color scheme. I like the blue used for her as well, and I really like that she has her wheel on the right side of her car in vehicle mode because she’s British. She has a small amount of kibble that looks nice with the rest of her robot mode.

I like that she can manipulate her body to be able to gain speed, travel faster underwater, and even fly for short periods of time/slow her fall. She could 100% fight in a war and kick some ass. Not that the rescue bots are actually physically weaker from the other Cybertrionians, they handle environments much better than a lot of the autobots in prime. But that’s off topic. Quickshadow has one of like three fight scenes in the show. She takes on a temporary mentor roll to Blurr and Salvage but doesn’t like it because they are special. When she races Blurr she wins not because she’s faster but because she was smarter (which is a lesson that Blurr would utilize in a later episode) and the way she talks to Optimus makes me think that she is known for this. Also her message to Optimus is one of the best ways to do a ‘last time on…’ it made me actually listen to it instead of just skipping over and it’s very engaging in my personal opinion.

Also she’s British

I like her a lot. She should be used in more stories as she has a unique perspective and skill set. I also just really really like her. Hasbro please make better toys for the rescuebots I will buy all your overpriced legacy figures if you just make more rescue bots.

[autisticempathydaemon]

Hiya!! This is for the Redacted matchups! ^-^

What song are you fixated on at the moment? What lyric or verse, and why?

- I'm on a The Crane Wives kick, listening to "How to Rest" and "Arcturus Beaming" on repeat. It gave me the name of my redacted demon OC actually lol. But How to Rest means a lot to me. I could quote the whole song, but I'll just put:

"Here's the truest thing I've ever know / The heart is just a muscle with a rhythm all its own / It doesn't stop when you decide not to move on / The heart knows nothing of your love or of your loss / So life just keeps on ticking by, compelled by instinct to survive / And love's the only thing worth being alive for"

What is your Enneagram type?

- I had to search a bit to find where to take this but I got Type 9? Sleeping At Last has songs based on each type and I relate to two and nine too much.

Do you love gargantuan Youtube video essays, and if so, which is your favorite and why?

- Oh god, yeah I do! I have so many favorites but I can give an older one and a newer one. Ladyknightthebrave's whole channel has my heart, but her "Dead Doesn't Mean Gone - A Haunting of Bly Manor Video Essay" has been engrained in my memory. The new favorite is Skyehopper's "Why Bastion Lies to You" because I do love that game, and its unreliable narrator. I mostly watch media summaries and analyses, and it's comforting to listen to people talk about the media that touches them.

Tell me about your childhood imaginary friend.

- So... I didn't have one? I felt so weird, like I was supposed to have one, but never did. May be the aphantasia in me, but my imagination hit after I found fanfic and went all in with OCs.

What is your go-to way to fall asleep?

- Video essays and videogame playthroughs! Curl up in blankets and put on an old favorite.

If you had to change your name, what would it be, and why? (In tandem, if you have changed your name, why did you pick that one?)

- Oh, I'm too indecisive for this, but maybe Ari? I like shorter names. I have more issue with my surname than my first name.

What is your favorite of Redacted's audios, and why?

- “Trying to Help Your Moody Vampire Sleep"(Porter) and "Time Is A Song. It's Also Water. He's Half Asleep."(Morgan). Both pairs are going closer in these!! Both set late at night and during the rain help too. After the craziness of the summit, it was so nice to hear Porter so gentle with Treasure. And Morgan being so open about how much he wants to know Seer was just so great~

What Redacted boy holds no appeal to you, and why? Like, not the one you hate but the one who you don't get the hype for.

- So I enjoy Flyboi. I've listened to Flyboi's epilogue multiple times. I have not touched Yandere Ivan's playlist. I don't think I will. I do enjoy the trope sometimes, but this one just isnt for me.

Tell me about that one book/movie/tv show you know all the words to.

- I get down on one knee, and hold up a little box. I open it. It has a slip of paper that says "Will you watch A Haunting of Bly Manor with me?" More seriously, I love what it says about grief, and our own personal ghosts that we carry with us.

Which Redacted boy are you platonically attracted to? Like- forget dating, which dude do you want to be your best friend?

- SO ABOUT MILO GREER— lol, mostly I just want that man to teach me how to dress. I want to watch him play horror games while we freak tf out and his mate laughs. Also Guy! Please gimme free pizza and ramble at me for 30+ minutes.

Do you have a go-to thing you ramble about when you're tired, and if so, what is it?

- That... is currently Redacted for me lol. Or Hades. Mostly though, I enjoy listening to the rambles of my friends, rather than being the one rambling.

Tell me your go-to gas station and drink combo.

- 7-Eleven was mine first, Gavin-- But yeah, Cherry Coke Slurpee, that's it.

Tell me about your favorite playlist at the moment.

- So, the Interactive Novel WIP "Speaker" has a playlist that I have carried onto every platform I listen to music to. Feels like a playlist the characters would be playing on the long roadtrips they take and I come back to it a lot.

What's your guilty pleasure media, and why?

- I'm not too guilty about it, but the Our Life games. They are just wholesome and good, and make me feel warm. Interactive fiction games too. Games that make you create an OC for them!

And whatever else you think tells me about who you are!

- I am a pretty big maladaptive daydreamer, and I deal with a lot of anxiety over being outside. I have gotten a lot better with it, though I can still be hard on myself when I feel like I'm taking steps backwards. I like to doodle, and make lists. I want to get a cat one day. I love horror even if I am a total wimp about it, and one time I hyperfixated on a bad romance series, read all 40+ books of it, and it certainly wasn't fun! But oh man, do I know way too much of how the author mixed up their own characters.

Really curious to what you pick, thank you so much!!

There’s quite a few reasons why I’m choosing the redacted boi I am for you, but I have to admit the most nebulous but altogether vibey of them is that you and Elliott would be hella Crane Wives-coded.

Type Nines tend to be motivated by a desire for peace and harmony, a lack of conflict; another reason I like Elliott for you is because I think he could really get that, given he’s a middle child from a tempestuous home. Then there’s your identifying as a daydreamer with aphantasia. I love the idea of pairing someone who has trouble visualizing things with someone who could visually bring those things to life before your eyes, even if only in dreams. You also seem to love stories and character creation, and Elliott canonically a dreamwalking Dungeons and Dragons nerd; it’s a perfect match.

I’m so jealous, because I can’t imagine anything more fun than being a horror fan with Eli as a partner, even if you’re a wimp. He doesn’t care how many times you’ve both seen The Haunting of Bly Manor; he just cares about spending time with you- maybe getting cozy under a blanket with a cat on top of your laps. You two could watch any fun, horror media, and it’d be okay because he could turn any of your nightmares into good dreams. Maybe he plays the horror games while you watch and doze off, your own personal video game play through sleep-aid. (A chill one, I think, as Elliott strikes me as an unflappable type, at least when it comes to horror.)

Song:

I'll be the moon/ You'll be the sun/ We'll make the day glow/ You'll slowly rise/ And I will fall/ I'll be the sky/ You'll be the ground/ Under the hillside/ We'll slowly wait and watch it all

This was so tough to pin down since the Crane Wives Radio songs were all either tragic or epic in scale /lh I landed on this one because I was looking for neither of those things; I wanted something happy and comfortable and peaceful, which is all Elliott and his Sunshine truly need at this point. Also, the sun and moon imagery is just too perfect.

Runner-ups:

Ollie is a cute runner-up for you not just because I think you’d like the same things, like video games and horror but because he already has a cat that would obviously also become yours when you get together. Lasko is another runner-up for you for the same reasons! I think you’d share a lot of shared interests as well but different ones- namely fiction, OC’s, and horror that you can’t handle.

Read this post and send me an ask if you’d like a match-up of your own! 💌