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jobean12-blog · 2 months ago

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Lost In You

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (Mob/Mafia AU)

Word Count: 1.8K

Summary: Bucky's been too busy lately and you're missing him badly so you do something to get his attention and it works...

Author's Note: The picture below was too much to handle and gave me Mob feels and I do love writing him with a soft edge, which I hope comes across here. There isn't much back story, lately I can't do much more than focus on the action LOL Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thanks a bunch Daisy!🥰

Warnings: tension, masturbation over the phone (bc where the hell is your man!), soft moments in between the smut

It’s been the longest week of your life. Bucky’s been…busy and you’ve had enough and you’re just about to tell him so when your phone buzzes in your hand.

“Don’t forget what I want tonight. Make sure you eat dinner doll. I’m going to be keeping you up.”

You huff out a small laugh at his text message. He’s been keeping you up all week and while you’d never complain you would like him to be more available.

With slightly shaky hands, you press his name to call him, and wait while it rings once…twice…

“Is everything all right?” he asks immediately.

“James,” you purr. “Are you busy?”

Silence greets you across the line and after several long beats, he clears his throat, quietly.

“Doll,” he says, “you know you shouldn’t be calling me right now unless it’s absolutely necessary. I’m in the middle of something. What do you need?”

His voice is low. Stern and laced with irritation at the interruption.

Your hand slides down your torso, over your belly button and lower, between your spread legs.

“I miss you,” you pout into the phone. “But if you can’t talk I can call back at a better time.”

You can almost imagine the way he leans in, pressing the phone flush to his ear and listening carefully for every sound on the other end of the line.

“No, I’m here now. I miss you too doll.”

Your hand slides up and back, fingers pressing into your skin. You pretend it’s his hand and he’s hovering over you, watching your expression.

“When are you coming home?” you start, your breath catching when you hear him exhale forcefully.

“Doll,” he whispers, and now you know he must be alone in his office, having silently gotten rid of anyone else. His voice has gone hoarse, goading, deep enough that if he were here you can just imagine the way his eyes would darken with intent.

“Why won’t you let me come see you.”

You try to keep your words steady but your fingers are moving faster now, sliding easily over skin that has grown slick with the sound of his voice, the sound of his breath through the phone.

You imagine him behind his large and ornate desk, his jaw tight, his hand clutching himself through his zipper.

Just the thought makes you gasp.

“You’re a distraction,” he hisses, and you moan quietly without meaning to.

“Are you being a distraction right now doll?” he asks.

Your back arches off the pillows, sensation pooling and warming in your thighs, low in your stomach.

“Do you want to hear me?” you ask. “Do you like thinking of me doing this in our bed?”

“Are you…” he growls. “Doll…”

You remember the way he looked at you this morning before he left. You remember how his mouth felt on your neck when he climbed into bed last night.

And then, when you barely whisper, “oh god,” you hear his rumbling groan on the other end and completely fall to pieces under your own hand, pretending it’s his, knowing how much better it will feel when it really is his, later.

Your legs are shaking and you’re crying out into the phone, riding through the wave of heat, slick pleasure sliding across your skin. You say his name, some other things you’re not even sure are coherent but just knowing he’s listening, and it’s all he can do- he can’t touch you or feel you-prolongs your release until you’re spent.

“Doll.”

You blink with a swallow. “Bucky…I…”

“Don’t you dare move,” he warns. “I’m coming home.”

You’ve drifted off waiting for him when the door slams open, the knob hitting the plaster of the wall just on the other side of the bedroom. Startled, you sit up, grasping the sides of his button down and covering yourself as he storms into the bedroom.

“There you are,” he whispers, his voice too low and steady and you know you’re in for it.

He stalks toward you, stopping at the side of the bed and running a hand through his already mussed hair.

“Did you think that was a good idea doll?”

You push up onto your knees, sliding your hands up his chest and into the open buttons at the top by his neck.

“I didn’t know how else to get your attention.”

He closes his eyes, moving his fingers to your jaw, down your neck to push his button down off your shoulders. His hands slide over your breasts before he pulls his hands back, forming tight fists.

“You don’t think you’re the only thing on my mind all day…and night,” he says. “I count the minutes until I can come home to you.”

“But you’ve been gone so much this week. The late nights aren’t enough.”

He leans in and says, “I’ve had a lot of business to attend to and tonight especially.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, as you lean in to meet him, your lips brushing along his neck.

His eyes flutter closed, nostril flaring.

“What do you think it looks like. Me running off?”

With his eyes anchoring yours, and to make his point, he slides a rough hand lower, between your legs, two fingers searching and finding you soaked.

“Who made you this wet?”

You don’t answer, closing your eyes and pushing into his hand before reaching to grip his wrist and fuck his fingers if he won’t move.

He jerks his arm back and pulls his fingers away, reaching to push them into your mouth, pressing your taste onto your tongue. His hand grips your jaw, fingers curled into the hollow of your cheeks to hold your mouth open.

“Answer me.”

“You.” The word is hard to get out around his intrusive fingers, but you manage, and he pulls back, gently rubbing the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip.

“You’re all I think about,” you say as you stare up into his eyes, so intense with desire.

They soften as you continue to hold his gaze. His eyes drop to your lips and his hands spread gently at your waist.

“I don’t care that you’re busy and had to leave. I want you to ignore it.”

His jaw tenses.

“I want you.”

“Doll,” he breathes out before his lips crash over yours, tongue pushing your mouth open, tasting, rolling up against your teeth.

You greedily reach for his shirt, tugging it free of his pants. With shaking fingers, you work each button free and once his smooth, warm torso is exposed, you let out a fevered moan and your hands are frantic across his skin, your fingers catching on the gold chain that rests there.

He growls when you spend too long running your hands up and over his chest, stroking and teasing the line of hair heading down below his belly button and into his pants.

Impatiently, he tugs at the shirt that’s still draped half over your body, pushing his hips forward, and grunting his approval when you quickly unfasten his belt, his zipper and shove his pants down his thighs so you can free his cock.

Oh.

It rests warm and thick against his belly and when you reach for him he’s steel in your hands. You use both to grip him and slide them down his length, dipping your head so you can suck on him with as much hunger as you feel.

He exhales a tight groan as you pump him in your fist and then curls down, capturing your mouth in a brutal, commanding kiss. You pull away, intending to lick him until he comes, but with a growled curse he pushes you back on the bed, kicking off his pants and climbing over you.

With hands flat on your thighs he spreads your legs, leaning forward and roughly thrusting into you. It’s a relief so enormous you moan loudly, never before feeling so full of him. You’re starving and satisfied, wanting him to stay like this forever.

He pulls back and then slams forward, gripping the headboard for leverage and taking you so roughly each thrust forces air from your lungs.

It’s wild and frantic, his body over yours, your legs clamped around his waist.

“I needed to get this deal done tonight,” he hisses, hands gripping your thighs. He pumps hard and fast, sweat trickling down his temple. “Instead, I need to come home and deal with my needy wife.”

His large, rough hands reach for your breasts, and he slides his thumbs across your nipples.

“Please make me come,” you whisper hoarsely. “Please,” you beg. “I’ll be good.”

You know he can’t deny you anything. Not really. He’ll give you everything you want. Always. And that’s exactly what he does when he angles your hips and drops his hand between your legs, pressing a finger to your clit until you feel the rush of warmth along your skin and the tension build deep in your belly.

“Bucky,” you cry out as your pussy tightens around him and your body arches beneath him.

The sight of you so lost in him is too much and he thickens inside you before filling you up, his hips stuttering and slowing.

He carefully pulls out and falls to the bed, wrapping you up in his arms and burying his head in the side of your neck.

“Baby doll,” he murmurs, his lips warm and soft at your skin.

“You’re not leaving again right?” you ask quietly.

His hand slides along your waist to your stomach where he reaches for yours and tangles your fingers together.

“No doll face. I’m not going anywhere.”

He lifts your hand to his lips, kissing your palm and then turning it over to press a kiss to your wedding ring. His mouth moves across your knuckles then to each fingertip and you shiver in his arms.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says again, rocking behind you and pushing his thigh between yours.

You start to move against it, the friction from his hard muscle making you grip his hand tightly. When he feels your wetness coat his skin he purrs into your ear, pushing your body down harder onto his thigh.

And just when you feel yourself nearing the edge he pulls his leg away. You whine out his name but with quick hands he rolls you onto your stomach, spreads your legs, and slides in so deep you gasp.

His groan vibrates across your skin, his lips warm and soft at your neck before he whispers along the shell of your ear, “I need to feel you come around me again.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #sebastian stan #mob!bucky #mafia!bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky x reader #mob au #sebastian stan x reader

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taintedcigs · 6 months ago

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— even if it’s handcuffed i’m leaving here with you

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader x eddie munson

summary: steve asks eddie for his handcuffs to spice up things in the bedroom with you, and once things go wrong, the two of you turn to eddie for help… in more ways than one. (wc: 3.1k+)

warnings: MINORS DNI, smut smut smut, or*l (f!receiving), handcuffs duh, lots of praises, dom!eddie, steve kinda subby but also soft!dom? the dynamics are mixed LMAO, pet names (sweetheart, honey, baby, slut), mmf, three way kissing idk

authors note: so this is what happens when a girl mixes her three hyperfixations; 9-1-1, steddie and CHALLENGERS. i wrote this v long ago it is a bit shitty and not proof-read SO IGNORE ALL MISTAKES THANK U. (also this is sm more meaningful to me now bc i got this song as my surprise song like i accidentally manifested this WAIT.)

and please, if you wanna support me; reblog + like + comment ILY!!

Steve is embarrassed.

Embarrassed that he has to ask Eddie for this. For handcuffs to use that he has no idea what the fuck to do with.

And of course Eddie finds it all amusing, a smirk plastered on his face while he teases Steve, rosy-cheeks turning pinker.

And normally, it would've pissed him off, Eddie's teasing, his flirty comments towards you, towards him.

But for some reason, it doesn't.

The three of you have this dynamic that he can't quite put his hand on, it's different, exciting, new, it intrigues him, more than anything.

You and Steve had just started dating, a couple months in, the honeymoon phase and all, and of course, Eddie had been there for it all.

The first moment you caught Steve's eye, you caught Eddie's too, the dynamic settled in then with Steve charming you right away, while Eddie's flirty antics didn't go unnoticed by you.

Yet, somehow, someway, it snowballed into you dating Steve. But it didn't end there. The three of you hung out often.

Very often.

So much so that you had regular movie nights, always ending up high out of your minds with Eddie’s shitty weed, talking each other's ears off 'till the sun came up.

You knew everything about his life, his shitty band gigs (the one Steve dragged you to, and surprisingly his music didn't suck), his uncle, his girlfriends. Or the lack thereof.

Eddie always mentioned how he just hadn't found the right one yet, just a bunch of meaningless sex.

And he made sure to always come to the both of you afterwards, telling everything, in great fucking detail too.

Maybe it was weird for anyone else. But for the three of you, it was your normal.

Especially for you, because you enjoyed them. Enjoyed his stories as they made you squirm in your seat. Reactions not going unnoticed by Steve.

And it's what led to Steve wanting to spice things up in the bedroom with you. He knew the sex was great. He was obsessed with you, and you were with him.

But, fuck, there was something missing. Something he couldn't pin point exactly. And he was willing to try out anything, especially when he remembered how much you reacted to one of Eddie's stories with the handcuffs, later mentioning to him that you really liked the idea.

The idea of losing control, giving yourself fully to another partner, and Steve's knees almost gave out right then and there.

He didn't know where the fuck to obtain handcuffs, hence why he immediately ended up at Eddie's door, enduring his endless teasing, sort of hoping that he'd offer to help.

An idea that crossed his mind, but one that he'd never verbalize, unless, you mentioned it too.

The second he showed you the handcuffs you squealed in excitement, putting on your best lingerie, making a show out of everything before the two of you didn't hesitate to jump on each other. His clothes scattered in the room, you in your lingerie, hungry for each other.

His mouth lingered, scent so intoxicating that you could feel your thighs dampen, lips all over your skin and hands squeezing whatever he could grab onto, both of you feral.

“Y'know I didn't wanna have to do this,” he murmurs into your lips, bringing the cuffs in your view, playing into it, enjoying the giggles you give him in return.

“Please, sir, promise I'll be good,” you pout with those doe eyes, making Steve almost cave in, cock stirring against his tight boxers, begging to be attended to.

He gives a rough grunt before pining your hands above your head “That’s my girl.”

“But you still have to be punished,” he hisses quietly, putting his weight on top of you, the cold metal off the first cuff making you shiver, he tightens it as soon as he locks it, making sure your other wrist is free, for now. “Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on ya, doll.” His hums make you whine loudly.

“For now.” You can feel his smirk widening when his lips attack yours again, hungry, as his bulge presses against your inner thighs, his hand holding your cuffed one in place, making you mewl desperately, kisses traveling down your chest.

And of course, you use his distraction to your advantage, quickly grabbing onto his free hand, the second cuff clicking onto its place before he can even attempt to protest.

“I guess we’re even now, pretty boy,” you tease with a sultry voice, but Steve’s head pops up to meet your doe eyed gaze with a panic.

“Did you just handcuff us both to the bed?” He asks, shear dread overtaking his face, making you furrow your brows.

“Yeah, baby, that’s the whole point,” you giggled, attempting to kiss him again but he pulled away. “Fuck,” he groaned, making you roll your eyes.

“Oh c’mon, I know you have a thing for women being in control.”

True, and it would’ve turned him on, almost made him bust out right then and there, if the context was any different, but instead he could just groan in panic. “Oh, sweetheart, I do, but fuck-”

“What?” You ask, face puzzled.

“The keys are in my pockets,” he murmurs, gaze trailing near the dresser.

Your eyes follow his, the jeans you threw in a hurry were placed upon the dresser, far away from the two of you, and there was no physical way to reach for them.

Both of you, cuffed to the bed, and no one there to save you.

“Oh, shit.”

The two of you tried every possible position to get out, but there was no fucking luck, and that’s when you finally settled on calling someone for help.

It was obvious the only person you could call for help was Eddie, but you knew his teasing would be relentless, curls bouncing each time a laughter rumbled from his stomach, making you huff out immaturely.

“Seriously, Eddie, this isn’t funny!” Steve chided, a bit playfully considering he knew how stupid the two of you must’ve looked, and it just made Eddie chuckle louder and louder.

“Are you kidding? This is the highlight of my week!”

“C’mon, Eds, just help us.” Your soft tone caught his attention quickly, his smirk disappearing just as fast before he approached the two of you closer, now able to get a much better look at the two of you.

“Oh, Harrington, what did you even do?” He rambled, trying to ignore that feeling he always got, but this time much stronger, you in your lingerie, and Steve’s obvious bulge that made Eddie gulp physically. Shit.

“I totally should’ve offered to teach you both.” He didn’t even know where the fuck that came from. Word vomit.

“Why didn’t you?” Curiosity got the best of you, and you didn’t even realize the implications of your words, until the two boys snapped their heads in your direction, like you’ve blurted out the most scandalous shit ever.

“I- uh- what?” Eddie stammered, eyeing Steve carefully, not knowing if this was a joke. Or if both of you actually meant it.

He never thought it was possible. This. The three of you. Sure the dynamic between all of you had been tethering on something more. But never straight forward like this.

It surprised both of you when Steve spoke up, lips twitching into a smirk. “Why didn’t you offer to teach us?” The two of you finished each other’s sentences, it almost looked intentional, as if the two of you have planned this, like the two of you ever talked about this.

You didn’t, it was just natural. Something you both had been too ashamed to admit.

Something even Eddie couldn’t admit to himself, other than a few jokes, and some drunken confessions here and there, but nothing like this.

All he ever wanted.

Eddie’s usual confidence was wavering, and it was amusing to see, exciting. Something you’d love to explore. Make him beg. God, you knew he’d sound pretty as fuck when he whined.

“W-would you guys want that?” Stammering, again, yet you can’t get too cocky, because you know once Eddie fully wraps his head around what the fuck is happening, he’ll lean back into that domineering side. After the countless stories the two of you have heard, it intrigues you both. So you and Steve unanimously help him to get there.

“If we didn’t, we wouldn’t offer it, Munson,” you encouraged, watching the way his eyes oggle both of you, curious, ecstatic, that dirty mind conjuring something.

“So… you’re both sure about this?”

“Sure that I want to be fucked by both of you? I think so, Munson.” You roll your eyes, so bored of the fact that you’ve been handcuffed for the past twenty minutes with no action, and because you knew it’d rile Eddie up. You’ve seen the flare in his gaze before, jaw locking in each time you rolled your eyes at him.

And it works, like a switch, you see the dominance bubbling up on his face.

“Feisty that one, isn’t she, Stevie?”

“Mmhm, the dirtiest mouth,” Steve adds, soft hands squishing your cheeks with a smirk, insides feeling gooey with the way they both eye you.

He tssked, “Haven’t you taught her some manners?” You whined slightly at that comment, they both knew what you wanted, what you desired, your boundaries… everything.

A dynamic that’s been brewing for months… finally exploding into reality, and of fucking course you couldn’t hide your excitement, making Eddie grin.

He’s quick to uncuff Steve, a groan leaving his lips at the relief from the cold metal against his skin, making Eddie’s cock stir at the sound. His two play things. And he’s going to have so much fun.

“Wanna help me teach her some manners, pretty boy?” Steve didn’t even answer, holding you down and spreading your thighs while Eddie grabbed your other hand, cuffing you properly this time, tightening it and relishing in your pathetic mewls.

Biting the inside of your thighs, Steve didn’t hesitate to tease you, spreading your pussy lips open to show it to Eddie, both of them grinning hungrily, “look how pretty she looks, Eds.”

“Such a gorgeous pussy,” Eddie hummed, admiring, groaning with a deep sigh.

All he fucking dreamed about.

Glistening with your arousal, inviting him in, and those goddamn sultry eyes were driving him insane, making him blink twice to make sure he wasn’t imagining, both of you looking at him like you wanted to eat him up.

A kind of attention he wasn’t used to, but it got him more and more riled up, confident, trailing his fingers by your inner thighs, the sensation of Steve’s lips brushing against your thighs while Eddie’s fingertips softly teased at your skin was something straight out of a dream.

Eddie looked at Steve, a subtle need to get his permission to press his lips to you.

So new… boundaries blurred and unknown, and Steve was quick to nod, hungrily watching the two of you, cock straining so hard against his boxers that he was aching.

Desperate.

Eddie was more or less the same, especially when you initiated the kiss, the softness of your lips brushing against his, making him whine pathetically.

It didn’t take long for him to take control again, the dynamic between the three of you changing ever so quickly, Steve still ghosting inside of your thighs, stomach, chest, legs, everywhere.

And shit… Eddie was a good kisser.

His lips were demanding, soft but somehow still teasing, attentive. His tongue didn’t meet much resistance as it danced against yours, smooth, on beat, the type that made flutters appear in your stomach, all the while Steve’s touches making your thighs dampen.

Too much. But in the best way possible.

If your hands weren’t tied up, it would’ve been surfing through their soft hair, demanding more attention, making you grew more and more frustrated, a smirk sitting on both of their lips at your pathetic moans.

A light scruff of Eddie’s beard scratched against your cheeks before he broke the kiss, “Steve,” he hummed, gaining his attention, head popping up all ecstatic, “C’mere.”

Both of them stick to your side, weight of the bed shifting as the gazes exchanged almost burned each other through the core. Full of longing, desire, and hunger.

Eddie angled your face toward Steve, “Kiss her,” he demanded.

A demand that didn’t take Steve a second longer to obey, thick fingers brushing against your face as his big hands cupped your heated cheeks, with your lips parted slightly he didn’t hesitate to push his tongue inside your mouth, possessing you fully, completely, an uncontrollable whine slipping past your lips.

“Fuck,” Eddie whispered, “you guys are so hot.” His breath fanned against your neck, hot hands running down your body, all three of you growing more and more impatient with each ragged breath, Steve’s tongue still shoved down your throat while Eddie played with your breasts, lips on your neck, making you squirm.

You could feel Eddie’s needy cock pressing against your ass, while Steve’s was barely confined in his boxers, prodding against your thigh, you don’t know how or when it happened but Eddie had joined in on the kiss too, the three of your lips moving in synch, busy between each other’s hot mouths, tongues curious and on beat, all magical and tempting.

Dark depths you always wanted to explore but never could, sloppy and filthy in the best way possible, shutting your eyes close as you enjoyed it, felt it all.

Unsure of who’s tongue was tangled in yours at this point but you could careless, disorienting you in a way that you couldn’t tell whose hands were hot all over your body, everywhere, messy, and uncontrolled.

And fuck, did you need more.

You could tell they did too, dicks twitching against you in a way that made you flutter.

And it felt like the three of you communicated, telepathically, because both of them, somehow managed to break the kiss, making your face fall in for more, unable to do anything with your hands cuffed to the bed. Infuriating, and not helping the wetness that had well already pooled inside of you.

“Awww, our pretty baby is needy, isn’t she?” Eddie mocked, both of them shifting down to your thighs, attention all on you as they spread you wider, mesmerized gaze following your every slight twitch.

“Relax,” Eddie cooed, amber gaze dangerously warm, both making you whine and giving you comfort at the same time, and before you could think, Steve’s hands warmed you up as well.

“Let us take care of you,” he added, and you couldn’t help but enjoy their squeezing, kneading, making you feel so fucking good.

You nodded, squirming as Eddie’s bearded chin tickled your skin, planting kisses inside of your thigh, while Steve’s fingers teased you, and all you could do was whine, hips rising from the bed, lust overshadowing the initial doubt.

“That’s our good girl,” Eddie praised, your thighs spread open, pussy exposed, completely. The two of them taking care of you, hands everywhere and one of their thumbs teasing your entrance, collecting your juices, smearing it around your lips, making you go airborne.

You could barely comprehend what happened when fingers slipped inside of you, one at first, then two, slicked in your juices, teasing, pumping in and out of you.

Head thrown back, you embrace the euphoria, different fingers entering inside of you, both of them deeper and deeper, squelching noises and your whimpers so heavenly that Eddie could feel his cock twitching, while Steve pathetically rutted into the sheets, desperate for some friction.

Fingering you until you could hear how wet you were, opening you up. Fully exposed to them.

You were too fucked out to notice that they had both started kissing your pussy lips, lapping up your juices, drinking you in, Eddie on one side and Steve on the other.

Heaven-sent.

You moaned like a bitch in heat, Eddie and Steve’s dripping cocks stirred at the sound, desperate to make you cum, to taste you.

Their fingers linked inside of you, thumbs continuing their rubs, and that hot white spot appeared behind your eyes.

You wanted to cum.

Fuck that.

You needed to cum.

And who were they to deny their little angel?

You had earned it.

Back arched, hands tight against the cuffs, all you could do was mewl as their fingers were stretching you, licks all over your hole making your breath ragged, “E-Eds… Stevie… I-I… shit!”

Eddie was quick to pop his head to meet your gaze, fingers still continuing their movements, flicking your sensitive spots as he gave you that goddamn grin again. “You wanna cum doll… don’t ya?”

Your body was frail. The most beautiful ache. Your entire nerve system felt like it was about to explode.

Everywhere. All at once.

“Come for us,” Steve encouraged, his and Eddie’s fingers moving faster, Steve lapping up your juices while Eddie’s tongue found your clit, sucking on it like it was his lifeline.

The softest tongue, but the roughest movements. Just fucking perfect.

“Oh, fuck!” You hissed, “E-Eddie, S-Steve!”

“That’s right, slut, scream our name while you come for us,” Eddie demanded.

And fuck you wanted more, so much more. Just the idea of having two of them inside of you at the same time was enough to have your eyes roll all the way to the back of your head.

But you couldn’t wait.

“You-you’re both so… fuck… fu… fu… fuckkkkk…” Your words got caught in the back of your throat, pathetic noises was all they could make out, especially as Eddie’s tongue circled around your clit, suckling, fingers working faster as it finally brought you over the edge. Making you jerk and come so hard that white spots flew behind your eyes.

The wildfire and the chemistry between the three of you burning your insides, that tingling warm sensation prickling every inch of your skin.

“God, you taste perfect, sweetheart,” Eddie praised with a low hum. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to hear that fucking moan?”

“You’re so fucking hot, baby,” Steve growled, making you his while he gently uncuffed you, each of their praises sending warm tingles down your spine.

Fuck, they were good.

And as Steve was about to get up, Eddie stopped him with a quick tut. “Okay, pipe down, sweetheart, you still have a lot to learn.”

With that dumbfounded look on his face, he turned to face Eddie, making him grin wider.

“Oh, Stevie you look so cute with that confused look on your face, such a pretty face isn’t he?” Eddie’s attention turned to you, still so domineering that all you could do was frantically nod.

“Do you wanna help me teach him, baby?” You nodded, again, gaze glazed, overtaken by desire.

The two of you were quick to pin him down, skin meshing all together when you helped Eddie cuff him.

“Let us take care of you, pretty boy.”

#steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader #steddie x reader

859 notes · View notes

merlucide · 5 months ago

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PREGNANCY HC’S W/ BLLK BOYS PT2

notes: RAAAAAAH (og ask)

characters: Lorenzo, Otoya, Shidou

warnings: cursing, fem reader, cringe ig

bllk mlist PT1 PT2

LORENZO DON

awwwww

He’d be so attentive and helpful ☹️💗

Always making sure you’re okay and comfortable

When you tell him that your prego he doesn’t believe you at first

He’s like ‘Ha good one’

But then you’re like ‘I’m fr’

he gets all quiet and kinda like😧

‘Mio amore.. a baby..?!’

HE IS SO HAPPY!!!!! :3 like is so shocked bc he didn’t think he’d REALLY have a family of his own <33

Hugs you so tightly and kisses your temple and then your lips <33

Also calls Snuffy afterwards lmao

Wants your pregnancy to be as easy for you as possible

You’ll kinda turn into a couch potato LMAO

He’ll bring you bunch of snacks for you to munch on— makes sure you get enough protein do you and the baby stay healthy

You can only glare at him when he goes for 2nd and 3rd rounds of ice cream and your munching on celery 😐

“Think of the baby☺️”

“The baby wants deep fried Oreos. Now.”

Rests his head on your belly bump and talks to the baby

He’ll put his chin on your bump and look up at you— 🥹💗

He can’t wait to meet the baby <33

Tells you all the time how much he loves you and how excited he is

OTOYA EITA

FYI I hate on Otoya in between hcs so… I’m sorry I literally can’t write for him if I don’t hate a little

ah yes, this loser do better

pls like he’s actually useless

ugh

Anywho- you tell him “I’m pregnant!” and this mf literally is the embodiment this

like his fucking face and everything

and it turns into

“SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT”

“ pregnant?!? With a baby?!”

Yeah

He’s very excited to be a daddy! just so stupid.

He tells all of his friends and posts about it on on every social he has.

Literally spams Karasu’s phone 😭

Karasu had lost the bet that Otoya’s swimmers wouldn’t be strong enough….

Wants to be very involved with getting ready for the baby—

When yall go clothes shopping for the baby he just finds the absolutely dumbest onesies/ shirts😭

like Otoya, are you trying to dress our baby or fucking clown

HE ALSO ORDERS CUSTOM ONSIES 😭 they say sum like “Daddy’s little ninja” or “My dad’s my favorite soccer player” 😭?? the first ones cute tho

When you are like have back pain he’ll massage your back and run you a nice bubble bath :)

Oh and the pregnancy hormones.

Him and Kaiser tie for worst comforters during your pregnancy 😭

Unlike Kaiser- he doesn’t shut up and try to deescalate the situation 😐

Instead he just kinda stands there like

he eventually asks what’s wrong and just hugs you bc he has no idea what to do rn 😭

He cares though 😭 just actually so stupid

He panics a lot during like your whole pregnancy lmao

Scared the baby’s just gonna P O P out ig

Though he does tell you how much he appreciates you and the gift you’re giving him :)

He is a loser but he does love you and your future little one <3

Okay last thing but after the baby is born and the crazy mama bear mode kicks in, he is TERRIFIED of you. 😭

Bro wanted to hold the baby again and you clutched the baby and gave him the nastiest, scariest glare and bro almost pissed his pants

Sorry this is kinda short 🫠 I hate Otoya with a PASSION (don’t know if you’ve noticed) so my I struggle to come up with stuff for him 💔

SHIDOU RYUSEI

ah yes, this loser 2.0 at least he’s hot

sigh,

You told him and he just kinda goes “🤨” ‘Bffr’

and like, you are fr, and kinda really nervous too

Then he gets all quiet and blank

Then goes straight to tweaking and puts his hands on the head and yells

Starts jumping too 😭

Grabs you and kisses you so hard, followed by a bone crushing hug :3

‘Holy shit, Holy shit, Holy shit, Holy shit— SHUT UP!!!! A BABY?????!!!’

Very happy and excited:)

So proud of you and him <3

… unfortunately for you when he tells people of your pregnancy, he over shares about the process 🫠

Paints the baby’s room :3 adds some of that Shidou Flare ofc

Rubs your feet and insists you sit on his lap, despite your worries of you being to heavy.

Loves, loves, LOVES, listening to the baby— any sound he hears, he freaks out

Talks to the baby sooo much too

Worried that you’ll over do it and insists you just do nothing till the baby comes

Shidou is pretty confident he’ll be a good dad, but is scared that he won’t be what the kid needs

Shidou knows how he acts and who he is, and doesn’t want to hurt the kid :( which of course you reassure him that he would never do that, and that he’d be a great dad <3

Also super duper extra protective of you during your pregnancy, like you can’t go anywhere without him lmao

RAAAAAAH 3 NEW WORKS IN 3 DAYS 💪 ON A ROLE FRRRR

made October 6th 2024

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suzukiblu · 11 days ago

Note

hi, question for you, have you ever experienced prolonged writer’s block before? do you happen to have any advice for getting a writing flow going again, that you’d be willing to share?

bc i don’t want to get too heavy in your asks, but between chronic illness/fatigue and longterm autistic burnout i haven’t been able to write a single word in several years now, and GOD am i tired of it. it’s like all the stories and words are stuck inside me and i can see it all in my head but the faucet is jammed and i just can’t get it OUT! i have been slowly feeling like the creative embers are maybe starting to spark again but it’s so hard not to get impatient with myself because it never seems to actually transfer to paper (or word document or notes app). any ideas or tips?

no pressure to answer this if you don’t want to of course, regardless i really enjoy your writing and i’m so glad that i can at least engage with fandom through other authors even when i can’t write my own stories! 💛

Oh god, yeah, I DEFINITELY have experienced that, hahasob. I have gone through at LEAST a year or two without, like, putting down a single word or even drawing anything, just total creative block/not there-ness. Like I feel u on that one, bud.

Good news: now if I write less than 2k in a day I think "oh that's kinda low, huh", so like . . . definitely "didn't write jack shit for [ INSERT TIME PERIOD HERE ]" has yet to sink me, and therefore fuck if it's gonna sink ANY of us. We persevere!!

So like, in my experience actually helpful writing advice is just SO wildly "you just gotta try shit 'til something works"-based that I'mma just give you a list made up of a bunch of, like, assorted tips and tricks that I use on myself to make my brain put words down when it's being stubborn about it, though different ones work at different times and obvi YMMV here anyway because for obvious reasons these are all approaches that I have tailored to my own needs, hah, and some of them are a bit facetious and some are also a bit heavy, but absolutely and unironically I reguarly use them all and they have all repeatedly worked for me.

Also, they're all gonna be goin' behind a cut because WOW there's actually a lot more of them than I realized I had, hahaha. The psychiatrist who recently used me as a case study told me I was very self-aware, so take from that what you will, friend.

Get up and do a chore/take a shower/eat a snack/literally just walk through a friggin' doorway, more often than not it'll at least make your brain reorient enough for you to realize you were just beating your head against a wall and need to do [ INSERT DAMAGE CONTROL/HARM REDUCTION BEHAVIOR HERE ].

Track your progress. Write to-do lists and cross shit off 'em. Keep track of your word count when you write; put it in a spreadsheet or a notebook or on a graph on your bulletin board.

Get a NEW way to track your progress. I currently use, like, three different "to-do list" apps to varying degrees in varying ways, not counting just my basic calendar app ( for the record: Finch, Structured, and just a generic notes app, but mostly Finch and Structured and seriously I CANNOT recommend Finch enough, go get yourself a bird buddy immediately. do you want a friend code, I will GIVE you a friend code, I think it gives you a bonus mini-pet or something if you use it. ), and also set myself MANY a phone alarm to remind myself of things that I need to do in case I space out or get distracted by somebody/something/the specific phase of the moon.

Did you take your meds? Take your fucking MEDS, self, good LORD.

Leave the house even if for literally, like, thirty seconds to just stand in some actual natural light. Or leave the house to go eat at a cafe or library or fast food place and just put yourself in a new environment for literally any length of time whatsoever.

Switch pens. Switch notebooks. Get a NEW notebook. Use your laptop instead. Use your PHONE instead. Get a nicer notebook. Get a shittier notebook. Use the scratch paper at work. Use the Procreate app on your friggin' iPad if you gotta, whatever, you do what you want!!

Don't write!!

Seriously just don't, go watch an actual scripted TV show or movie or read a book or a comic or some fic. Feed your brain something you didn't have to make up yourself.

Come up with a convoluted way to trick yourself into being accountable to someone else. Join a writing group. Make a Tumblr post about how you're gonna go write now. Ask Tumblr for their opinion on what you should write now. Ask Tumblr to spin this random wheel spinner game you generated and tell you what answer they got, and then write THAT.

HAVE you had a snack? Did you eat breakfast? Did you eat lunch? Did you remember to move around the house at any point whatsoever during the day? Maybe like, do that. Like, at least the snack part. Maybe a stretch or something wouldn't hurt either though.

Meal prep is so fucking useful and saves you SO much annoying time and also, like, makes you eat actual veggies and fruit and shit, genuinely actually works, the gym bros were not wrong, go figure. Also then you don't have to think about what you're gonna eat all the time and then cook it and then clean up and then--yeah anyway meal prep, god bless it. Once a week I make a batch of pasta salad and roast a pan of good-when-roasted veggies with like, garlic and salt and pepper and some olive oil and add bacon after, and then I portion it all into tupperware and in the morning I add spinach or crack an egg into that day's share of veggies for breakfast and maybe make some toast, and just grab one of the pasta salads whenever I want something lunch-like. It saves SO much time and distraction when you are hurting for free time/focus. So, SO much.

Unfortunately the gym bros were also correct about exercise, if that's doable for you. Exercise does in fact make you feel better and more energized and less depressed, fuck those guys for being right about that shit. Assuming you have enough iron in your blood to actually, like, do it, which admittedly I frequently do not, but the point stands.

Dude why are you even trying to write, you're so tired, go to bed and get up early, you write SO much better in the mornings anyway.

Hey, I know that's how you USED to write, but like, is that actually how you write right now? Is that actually even what works for you anymore? Actually maybe outlines COULD be helpful or maybe you don't need all those worldbuilding notes all at once; maybe your inner architect needs to let the building decay and go back to nature or maybe your inner gardener has developed a taste for trellises, metaphorically speaking and all.

Please eat something. Also please DRINK something. Like ideally water but we'll go for anything that involves a liquid, seriously.

Hey did you know actually if you ONLY eat instant ramen and microwave pizza you'll probably get scurvy and die instead of, like, writing your magnum opus? Like probably?? Put a fucking egg in that ramen, man! Slice up a scallion in that bitch!! EAT AN ACTUAL WHOLE FRUIT or at least, like, buy a smoothie with actual fruit involved somewhere in it on occasional. The whole fruit, unfortunately, is better. I like apples. Apples take a REAL long time to rot if I forget they exist for a couple weeks or whatever. But like, mango smoothies are also the shit, can't turn down a mango smoothie or a good strawberry-banana. Hey did you know the grocery store just, like, will let you just buy one single apple and they don't give a fuck? You're free! The cashier won't remember you in five minutes!! Buy your one single apple and work your way up to maybe two apples next time!! Also now I want an apple!!!!

Don't write. Don't write THAT. Write the other thing. No, the OTHER other thing. No, not THAT other other thing.

The rules are made up and the points don't matter.

Fuck it, we ball.

[ INSERT FULL-THROTTLE STIMMING BEHAVIOR HERE ]

Only God can judge me and I'm still technically agnostic.

God, that's the weirdest fucking idea you've ever had, literally NO ONE but you would read it. So you should write 180k of it and also make it even weirder and yes it will absolutely be the one fic that just about everyone in MCU fandom who knows you exist knows you for, don't even worry about it, this isn't based on a true story at all.

Actually you could probably storyboard this scene to figure out wtf is happening here. Or like just draw literally anything related to this story, a bit of that might work some kinks out of the whole process.

Did you get that snack yet?

Hey go pet your dog, she's very soft and wants attention and also her OWN snack. Pet your dog and eat an apple and idk watch some anime or a weird niche documentary or an even more niche reality show, have you seen Deep-Fried Dynasty yet, it's on Hulu and was surprisingly engrossing.

Why are you even following the rules, we've been over this, they are made up and the points do NOT matter, and also you're not even getting graded for this anyway.

Yeah okay that thing you wrote sucked, but it turns out that Dean Koontz somehow has a writing career and also Twilight happened to all of us, so actually even the suckiest thing you ever write is gonna be better than the perfect ideal of the scene in your head, because the suckiest thing you ever write is something OTHER people can READ. And again: Dean Koontz has a career. Colleen HOOVER has a career. And fucking good for them, they're killing it, they are fucking WRITING!! Who gives a damn anyway, fix it in editing if you're that worried about it, they call it a rough draft for a reason.

Hey if that thing doesn't work you can just, like, delete it. Or rewrite it. Or stick it in your back pocket and do something else for a while. The sunk-cost fallacy is bullshit and you don't have to listen to it.

Maybe drink some more caffeine, that'll calm you down. [ DISCLAIMER: THIS PIECE OF ADVICE TAILORED TO A PERSON WITH MORE ADHD THAN LITERALLY NINETY-FIVE PERCENT OF PEOPLE WHO HAVE BEEN DIAGNOSED WITH ADHD; THAT PERCENTAGE IS ON THE ACTUAL LEGITIMATE DIAGNOSTIC PAPERWORK ]

Seriously you can just write anything you want, nobody can stop you. Only God can judge me and I'm still technically agnostic enough that that's like, thirty-seventy odds at BEST.

God that idea is so niche and weird and niche, better tone it the fuck down to--oh wait no mass appeal means you're writing popcorn and literally no one will remember it in five minutes anyway, stop reflexively censoring yourself for some imaginary audience that will just chew straight through your one-size-fits-all story for The Content(tm) and then immediately move onto the next one without even bothering to hit "kudos" or remember anything about it later. I have written shit so weird that people still remember how weird I was TWENTY-FIVE YEARS LATER, man, and that is why literally anyone will EVER remember that you exist or wanna read your stuff or follow you to a new fandom where they don't even know the source material, fuck it, they'll wiki some shit. And also who cares anyway, it's YOUR stuff and YOU wanna read it. Your agnostically-possible god did not make you this weird and niche for no reason, don't pussy out now!!

Actually you can just write in the bath/on the bus/while waiting for your roommate to finish up with the guy running this estate sale. You've got your phone, right? Fuck it, pack a notebook. Pack an extra notebook. Pack a smaller notebook. Pack a BIGGER notebook.

It's not stupid if it works. You don't have to do what literally ANYONE else is doing, you just have to do what works.

You can literally just skip to the good part and write that, actually. Nobody's gonna throw you in writer-jail. What are we, cops?? Actually do you even need this lead-up here or do you just need to write this one specific blorbo gettin' laid REAL enthusiastically kinkily and/or maybe having a nervous breakdown sobfest over their perception of their personal self-worth and everything else is kinda just window dressing??

I mentioned the snack thing, right? Also sugar rushes are fake but sugar CRASHES are real so maybe be a little careful on that one, maybe buy some trail mix/jerky/smoked salmon, smoked salmon is SO good, smoked salmon is just objectively delicious.

Go talk somebody's ear off about what you're trying to write about. Bonus points if you can find somebody who matches your freak enough that you write, uhhhhh /checks smudged writing on wrist/ a 60k Overwatch fic in two weeks and also like 280k of Witcher fic in less than a year specifically because they're just a real good cheerleader. Wow. Wow that was a lot more Witcher fic than I was aware I had written. THE POINT IS LOOK FOR A WRITING BUDDY, WRITING BUDDIES ARE THE SHIT.

If the writing buddy doesn't work out though the first time I won NaNoWriMo I did it directly out of spite because someone said they didn't think I actually would. So like, spite is always an option, you can always keep that one on tap if you gotta.

Stephen King did not write "On Writing" because he didn't want you to write. Francesca Lia Block did not introduce you to the weirdest and gayest shit teenage!you had ever read so you'd grow up and be a fucking NORMIE about this shit. SIR TERRY PRATCHETT DID NOT WRITE LIKE SIXTEEN OF YOUR FAVORITE BOOKS OF ALL TIME BECAUSE HE DID NOT WANT YOU TO WRITE WHAT YOU WERE ACTUALLY FRICKIN' INTO.

Clean your room. No, better than that. Okay fuck it just set a ten-minute timer and do what you can in that time, we work with the spoons we've got.

Random number generator. Random color generator. Random "hey followers here's a very oblique poll, don't even worry about what it's about, just click a button please and thank you".

Did you know the internet will just GIVE you free graphs/trackers/bullet journal page designs and you can just print 'em out and do whatever the heck you want with 'em?? Yes my new little "color in the squares every day you do the thing" tracker IS just six daily writing tasks and two daily "just go pick some stuff up in this specific room" tasks and that is MY BUSINESS, MS. SIR AND MR. MADAM AND MX. [ INSERT BUZZER SOUND ]. And also, like, has done much better at getting me to do chores than anything else has in a minute, go fig.

You can actually just do whatever you want forever.

Literally, like just forever.

Fuck, how many times HAVE you done this? You'll never get better for good, it'll always go bad again, you'll always get sick again, you'll always get SAD again, you'll always fucking forget how to even DO this again and have to start all over.

Well yes, obviously, because you'll always have done it again. So do it again. One more time.

( seriously though did you take your meds-- )

#anonymous #rinquiry

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cinnnamongrl · 2 years ago

Text

sorority secrets- ellie williams (part 1)

pairing: college!ellie williams x fem!reader

summary: ellie williams has never been the 'sorority type'. but when she meets you, she realises maybe spending college as a part of eta alpha rho isn't so bad.

warnings: [18+ MDNI] explicit language, suggestive themes/language, mentions of dating men, alcohol, small mentions of homophobia. [this series will contain smut later on- warnings will be listed accordingly]

author’s note: i’m really excited for this series hehe it’s gonna be a few parts. hold on tight bc there is drama and hot lesbian sex to come (my two favourite things).

ellie williams doesn’t like sororities.

she likes savage starlight comics, she likes video games, she likes getting high and watching space videos, she likes when cats do that slow blink to show they’re comfy with you.

she does not like sororities.

and yet here she stands, in the main room of the eta alpha rho house, 5 minutes from meeting the other girls who had been accepted into the campus’s most well known sorority. dread was resting heavy in ellie’s stomach. she didn’t want to fucking be here. what even was a sorority anyway? forced friendship with a bunch of prissy straight girls? no thanks. she’ll pass. she had only one person to thank for this bullshit; ellie’s step-sister brittney. perfect brittney. tall, blonde, president of eta alpha rho brittney. if brittney wasn’t so… brittney, then ellie’s step-mom wouldn’t be blackmailing her into a college sorority, threatening to cut her off if she couldn’t show willingness to follow in your family’s footsteps and become a respectable eta alpha rho lady.

“can you try not to look like you’d rather be drowning in a pool of piss than be standing here?” brittney’s shrill voice broke ellie’s flow of thought. “no can do i’m afraid” brittney scoffed dramatically. “i don’t want you here either, you know. it was my mom’s idea, not mine. i think you’re perfectly suited to staying in your dorm all year with your weird stoner friends” she spat. “well then, we can agree on one thing” ellie shot her a sarcastic smile.

brittney strode towards the eta house door as the first few girls arrived. ellie looked down at her feet and then looked to her right. she walked over to the sofa, deciding she’d feel less awkward if she was sitting. less aware of her body now, she was able to form her (shallow, but oftentimes correct) initial thoughts on the girls she was going to be ‘sisters’ with for however long she survived this little group.

cute…

won’t last 2 weeks with brittney…

definitely films herself shotgunning white claw…

woah.

you walked into the room and a nervous tingle rested at your fingertips. the sound of excited giggles and shy greetings settled in the background and you allowed your eyes to scan where you stood; pink wallpaper, a framed photo of an older but still glamorous blonde woman, grand staircase, white sofa, girl sitting on said sofa. is she… part of the sorority too? didn’t see her during rush week. beat up converse, white vest and a short sleeved grey shirt, large tattoo covering her right forearm… pretty freckles. you still weren’t sure if this girl was even part of eta but something in you was pushing you to go and sit next to her.

“hey” you offered a smile as you sat beside the girl. “what’s your name?”

ellie sat up a little straighter and cleared her voice. “ellie.” be cool ellie. “what’s yours?”

you told her your name and she nodded. something about the way she was looking at you put you on edge a bit; it made your stomach feel fluttery and hands slightly damp.

“are you… in eta alpha rho too?” you asked. she chuckled “why, do i not look like i am?” you shook your head defensively “no no i just- you-“ “it’s fine. yeah i am. my sister is the president of the sorority, ‘s why i’m here”. you nodded in understanding.

you talked for a little while longer and to her frustration, ellie couldn’t figure you out. past ‘woah’ she couldn’t make many initial judgements. sure, you looked the part; pretty, smiley, white dress short enough to show off your body but not too short that grandma would disapprove. but from the short conversation ellie could not see why you’d be interested in eta alpha rho.

truthfully, you didn’t really know either. your friends back home had gushed about the concept of being a sorority sister, and your parents were… traditional. their daughter in a good college with good grades in a respectable sorority, dating a nice young man from the college’s fraternity was their dream. just like they had done. to be honest you weren’t really interested in sororities and frat boys, you wanted to stay focused on keeping up your perfect grades and securing your future; that’s what college was about after all. however if being part of eta meant getting into fun parties and having a group of girls who always have your back then why not?

“AHHH there you are!” a girls voice interrupted yours and ellie’s conversation and you looked up to see a girl standing over you with a wide smile. “brittney just told me I’m your sorority big sister! my name’s emilia. welcome to eta alpha rho” she put a gentle hand on your shoulder and then averted her gaze to ellie “ellie, good to see you again!” ellie gave her a smile back. “i want you to meet some of the other girls, c’mon” emilia took your hand and pulled you from the sofa into a crowd of girls.

a flash of annoyance shot through ellie at brittney’s friend taking you away. she didn’t really know why, you were probably going to end up becoming one of brittney’s bitchy friends who all pretend to like each other but fuck each others boyfriends behind their backs. she relaxed her body back into the sofa, and watched you. watched the lines appear around your eyes as you smiled, let her gaze travel down to your thighs, noticed your nails. red and short. gay? she promptly pushed the thought away. she let her eyes run back up to your face, your lips and oh fuck she’s looking at me- ellie averted her gaze to the vase on the table in front of her and mentally slapped herself. don’t be a perv, jeez. acting like you’ve never seen a fuckin pretty girl before.

~~~~

you laid on your dorm bed trying desperately to focus on the episode of yellowjackets playing from your laptop and keep your eyes from closing. the eta meet had drained you and although it wasn’t late you felt ready to call it a day. your phone buzzed and after a few seconds of debate you decided to pick it up.

you sat up straight and pushed your laptop away from your lap.

you locked your phone and the black screen revealed the somewhat silly image of you smiling in your reflection.

~~~~~~~~~~

“truth.”

the game had been going on for maybe 10 minutes, and ellie was losing the will to live. you hadn’t showed yet and ellie was 1 “i dare you to text your ex” away from getting up and leaving.

“where’s the craziest place you’ve ever done it?” a red haired girl asked the girl beside her. after a moment of pause, “denny’s parking lot”. a fit of giggles erupted but were quickly drowned out in ellie’s ears when you walked into the room and took a seat next to her.

emilia gave you a quick wave and smile and you returned it.

“late to your first eta social. that could get you kicked out you know” ellie spoke in a hushed voice. she saw the way your eyebrows raised in worry and instantly felt bad, “i’m joking”. “don’t do that” emphasising the ‘do’ with a playful nudge to her arm. “you missed loads. sasha had to show everyone her most recent text AND you’ll never guess what? chloe has a crush on brandon!” ellie waved her hands in faux excitement. you tried not to laugh at her mocking your new sorority sisters. “you’re an asshole”. she tilted her head slightly with a smirk, “yeah?” you managed back a small “mhm”.

“ellie! truth or dare?” a brunette girl spoke suddenly, bringing your attention back to the group. ellie leaned back, adjusting her position so she was manspreading slightly, and let out a small huff. that same fluttery feeling in your stomach made itself known again and you looked away from ellie. “uh. truth i guess?” the girl pondered for a few seconds. “what’s your favourite thing in a guy?” ellie raised her eyebrows for a moment before a little smirk you were sure only you caught appeared on her mouth. “his sister.” the room went silent. ellie didn’t seem to notice. “gross” brittney muttered. you looked up and caught her eye “not in like… a homophobic way.” she clarified. you lowered your head and subtly looked through your eyelashes at ellie, who was absentmindedly taking a sip of her beer. emilia, who was smiling, got up from her seat and gestured for you to follow her to the drinks table.

“sooo, having fun?” she asked you, grabbing a beer for herself. “yeah!” you offered back and looked around the table for something sweeter than beer and stronger than hard seltzer. “i know truth or dare is a bit juvenile but it’s an eta alpha rho tradition” she chuckled. “nothing wrong with a bit of childish fun” you smiled and she nodded back before squeezing your arm and going back to her seat. you stood before the drinks table feeling slightly awkward. ok let’s see… tequila? barf. maybe vodka? hm but what with. oh they have cranber- “you know, there’s capri-suns in the fridge if you’re not a liquor girl” ellie’s playful mocking broke your train of thought and made you jump slightly. you faced her with one hand on your hip and one resting on the table and narrowed your eyes in mock annoyance. while your brain tried to think of a witty response you noticed ellie’s eyes were taking in your body and it made your face heat up. you opened your mouth to respond and her eyes landed there and stayed on your lips. was she aware she was this unsubtle? “your beers with a 5% alcohol content aren’t too far off capri-suns” you retorted. she laughed and it made something leap in your chest. you turned back around to pour yourself a drink as ellie watched you.

after a few hours the games had died down and the scene in front of you showed most of the girls chatting or dancing to the dua lipa song that was playing from the tv. you’d been stuck in a conversation with a girl called alice for the past 40 minutes about her boyfriend who’s cheating on her but still loves her (she feels it in her heart), you were searching for a lull in the conversation to excuse yourself to the bathroom but so far alice hadn’t come up for air. that’s until an angel sent from heaven (who’s name escapes you) swoops in and sparks up a conversation with alice, leaving you with a clear exit plan. thank you nameless angel. unnoticed by alice or her friend you make your way to the bathroom across the hall, ‘you want me, i want you baby, my sugarboo…’ becoming quieter and quieter and your head ever so slightly fuzzy from the two drinks you’d been nursing throughout the evening. you reached the bathroom door and lifted your arm up higher than sober-you would find necessary to check it wasn’t occupied, and at the same time the door flew open making you lose your balance slightly and fall like an idiot into the poor person who’d just used the bathroom. “oh my god i am so so sorr-“ you looked up and saw ellie, looking down at you with an expression of amusement. you stepped back a little and she lifted her arm to rest against the door frame. you blamed the drink on the way that little display made you feel. “time to switch to capri-suns, sweetheart?” you pushed past her body into the bathroom “shut up about the capri-suns” she laughed and turned her body to face you as you checked your appearance in the sink mirror. “i’m serious. wouldn’t want you stumbling over like that and spilling something on that pretty dress of yours” she stepped forward a few inches and your heart rate picked up and you suddenly felt warm all over. even something about the way she indirectly complimented your outfit made you feel all weird and shy in a pathetically girlish way. what the fuck was wrong with you. keep. it. together. you could tell she’d had a little to drink from her lightly flushed cheeks.

“i won’t. ‘m not drunk” your eyes locked onto hers through her reflection in front of you. “yeah? then show me your eyes”. “what?” you questioned. she placed her hands on your hips and turned your body around to face her, your back now leaning against the sink. she was close. “you can always tell from the eyes,” she spoke low and her words took their time on her tongue “drunk people always get this hazy look,” her own eyes darted between each of yours “you know… heavy..” you swallowed, head swirling from definitely not the vodka and fuck since when was this bathroom so hot “.. sleepy” you opened your mouth and the breath you didn’t realise you were holding came out and her eyes were on your lips again. she brought her tatted arm out to hold the sink, caging in the left side of your body.

“oh!” both yours and ellie’s heads shot to the door, revealing emilia standing there. “sorry! was just coming to look for you,” she told you “wasn’t sure where you were.” she half-giggled. ellie cleared her throat and gave emilia a tight lipped smile and exited the bathroom. “glad you’re safe, i’ll uh- let you pee now.” she tittered and followed ellie back to the room, closing the bathroom door behind her. right, yeah. i came here to pee. the past few minutes left you with a little disorientation; you sat down and replayed your moment with ellie. moment? can you call it a moment? why does it even matter. what the fuck were you doing getting all woozy because a girl you only just met flirted with you for 3 seconds. you physically shook your head pretending that could rid you of the feelings you were experiencing. ellie was in your head and it scared you. that’s the thing about the guys you’d dated; sure it was fun to go on dates with them, sex could be… pretty enjoyable, and you could laugh and joke with the majority of them. but they never interrupted your focus. they never took up space in your brain when you weren’t in their presence, and they didn’t have the power to distract you from college or your grades. they were safe.

as you entered the room again emilia noticed you and spoke up “hey! i was just thinking: you came in late so you never got to play the game! soooo.. truth or dare?” she asked with a big smile. the moment had passed surely you thought, but you humoured her anyway. “dare?” “ok,” she put her finger to her bottom lip and looked up “, i dare you to tell us who you have a crush on” grown adults. we are grown adults. “isn’t that a truth?” you questioned. “oh shush. just answer” you thought of ellie. you were sure she was looking at you but didn’t dare to check. then you thought of college, your sorority sisters, your parents.

“chad.” there was a chad in your college right? emilia gasped “chad peters?” sure “yep” “AHH he is SO cute. head of the football team AND kappa upsilon sigma fraternity president as well, someone has standards” emilia jibed. you gave her a false smile. you could see brittney out of the corner of your eye frowning.

you were a fucking idiot. chad? you could almost feel ellie’s eyes on you, but you still couldn’t manage to turn around and look at her. now who was the asshole.

part 2

#ellie tlou 2 #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams smut #ellie x reader #ellie tlou

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fadingdaggerr · 1 year ago

Note

hey! I just wanted to see if I could request a Melissa x Reader fic where basically r is a teacher at the school and her best friend is ava, and r has the fattest crush on melissa ever but the only ones who know are ava, barbra, and mr johnson (bc dude knows everything)

and ava and barbra are trying to be wingman because melissa likes r. so just a bunch of mutual pining and fluff. and when they confess it’s snowing.

if you can’t do that that’s totally fine! but if you do thanks in advance and take your time

as you ever were

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: request above | 8k

includes: mutual pining, ava and barb meddling, kinda dialogue heavy oops, these bitches Oblivious, author is a classics nerd

warnings: (minimal) they/them pronoun use for R, sexual innuendos, (brief) alcohol consumption, kissing/light making out

note: sorry i took so long getting to this req. school started up and work is genuinely insane. plus i got a little too into writing this so editing too a little while. i actually really like how this turned out :)

Unforecasted frozen rain forced recess to be inside, everyone was to just stick to their classroom since there was no time to prepare the gymnasium for indoor recess on such short notice. The kids spent the first five minutes of recess begging you to go outside, to which you open the window, to which Sean says oh, hell no, resulting in a scolding from you.

Within five more minutes, your teacher-senses begin to tingle. Something is wrong. Looking up from your record book, you glance around the classroom until your eyes land on Karam. The seven year old had just moved to Philly with his parents a few weeks ago, and with this being his first week at a new school, he has been understandably frazzled. The boy is facing towards your desk, away from his classmates, sitting on a beanbag chair and crying to himself.

Immediately, you rise out of your chair and approach him gently, lowering yourself to sit criss-cross in front of him. “Hey, Karam. What’s going on?” you ask calmly, not trying to draw attention to his state nor baby him. The only response you get is a shake of the head, so you ask, “would you like some alone time right here?” Another shake of the head, another question, “do you want to talk alone, just you and me? You can bring Pickle.”

This offer seems to appease him, he instantly stands and goes to his backpack to grab his beloved stuffed sea lion. You get to the doorway and keep your hand on his shoulder where he stands just out of sight of the other kids, hoping no one will see him and decide to get nosy.

“Okay, chickens. I’m going to run across the hall very quickly, keep doing what you’re doing. Ashante, honey, you’re in charge,” you say with a little grin, it becomes a full smile when the girl salutes you.

Once you’re in the hall, Karam grabs your hand tightly with big tears ready to fall, and stays close as you cross diagonally to some of your students' previous second grade classroom. You lean into the doorway, still keeping Karam out of sight of others, and knock to gain a certain redhead’s attention. She’s quick to get to you, seeing a sort of urgency on your face.

“What’s up?”

“Can you watch my class, please? I’ve got a situation here,” you tip your head to the side to gesture to Karam, still gripping your hand and sniffling. “I promise I’ll pay you back somehow, lunch, lunch duty, recess duty, whatever. Just, please?”

Melissa takes one look at you pleading eyes and knows she can’t say no to you, especially not with a sad little friend by your side. “You owe me nothing. I’ll bring the kids to my room and you can come get ‘em after,” she says with a tone she hopes shows she’s being genuine.

“Thank you, thank you so much,” you rush out, immediately your attention falling back to the tears rolling down Karam’s cheeks. Melissa scoots over to your room, corralling the kids across the hall with an excited tone to keep their eyes on her and not you and their classmate.

With the extra bodies in the room, Melissa finds that the doorway was a good place to observe all the kids in her room. Though she tries to keep her eagle eyes on the students, they slowly slide to your form in the hall, crouched down below the boy’s eye level with his hand in yours. Her ears feel like a radio, tuning into the hushed volume you keep.

“It’s okay to be sad, buddy. Everything and everyone is so new, you’re allowed to be scared,” you say as you wipe his cheeks with a tissue, “and you and I both know that baba and daddy would never bring you somewhere that wasn’t safe. And Pickle, he’s here for you, and so am I.”

The boy leans into you for a hug, and your arms wrap tightly around him. Melissa tries not to stare, but she’s unable to take her eyes off the interaction. The way you rock him gently side to side, it was clear you weren’t letting go until he did. She vaguely remembers you mentioning that being a rule of yours when you first started at Abbott, when you took over her third grade class and her entire field of vision.

Melissa averts her eyes back to the kids as the hug ends, but she still listens discreetly. You wipe Karam’s face as you speak, “let’s go get you some water, okay? And maybe, if you use those puppy eyes, nurse Makiah will let you pick out a lollipop. Does that sound like a deal?”

“Do we have to come back to recess?” The shyness in his voice makes you pout.

“Yes, because Miss Schemmenti was super nice to watch all our friends for me while we’re talking, and I’m sure she’d like her room back,” you peek up to Melissa quickly, “and when we get back, we’re gonna say a big ‘thank you,’ alright?”

“Yeah,” Karam answers quietly, but his next words are so quiet you barely hear them, “thank you.”

“Of course, chicken. Let’s go.” Melissa pretends she’s not watching you walk down the hall with a hand still in Karam’s, her eyes switch back to her class when you disappear around the corner.

When you return to get the kids from Melissa, she instead insists that you just sit out the rest of recess in her room since the students were already playing together. That’s the only reason, nothing else. You keep a cautious eye on Karam as he sits down to draw with one of Melissa’s students, and once you see him start to arrange his colors, you drift your attention to the woman next to you.

“Thank you, seriously. And I will be paying you back for this,” you say, bumping your shoulder with hers.

“I said you ain’t gotta do anyth-”

You cut her off, “I said. I’m. Paying. You. Back. Just accept it, I’m not budging.”

All she gives as an answer is a huff through her nose, but the smile that stretches her lips makes you feel fluttery. Her smile is not a rare sight, but it’s rare that you get to see it this close. When she faces away for only a couple seconds, you take the time to just take her in. Beautiful.

In the hall, a conversation between Barbara and Ava about clearing an extra bulletin board for the kindergarteners art projects was halted when they caught Melissa watching you with Karam. Both women looked at her, unseen even by Melissa’s typically sensitive attention, and all they saw was a soft putty of a woman. When you returned to the classroom, they slowly got closer to see what was going on, curiosity drawing them in.

All they could see were gentle, shy smiles and hidden glances of adoration for each other. It clicked in their minds at the same moment. Their best friends had it bad for each other.

Their plan was formed in a single glance.

—☽—

“So… What are you gonna do about Red?” Ava asks as she reaches the midpoint of her braid.

You’re sitting behind her on a cushion, parting a section in the back of her head to start on a braid yourself. Your focus makes your response time slower and quieter than usual, “what d’ya mean?”

Ava’s chuckles, “how you’ve got the hots for Schemmenti.”

Her obvious tone makes you stall, too long, but you try to deflect anyway, “I’ve got no clue what you mean.”

She laughs. Ava laughs and it would be in your face if she weren’t so busy with her hair. She doesn’t need to turn to know you’ve got that shocked expression on your face, the one where your eyes are wide and blank, face otherwise neutral, but she knows the expression well. The first time she’d seen it was the day she met you in seventh grade, and she proclaimed you her best friend to everyone in the cafeteria, just a mere three hours after meeting each other.

“Don’t lie to me, Gremlin,” she jokes, using her nickname for you she adopted from your favorite movie as a kid, “I know when you like someone, and you want that Italian sub to Italian dom you.”

“I hate you,” you groan, “if you mention even a single thing to her Ava, I will buy out all the caramel hair from the beauty supply and you’ll never see it again.” She gasps, as if it were a real threat you could carry out on your budget, but she knows how serious you are. With a roll of her eyes, Ava decides to hold off until you’re not braiding her hair to annoy you more.

Much later into the night and all there is really left to do is trim, seal, and add products to her roots, Ava knows she can’t let the topic of the previous conversation go. She decides to speak up while she trims the last few front pieces and you pick up the hair packaging and combs from around the room.

“Just saying though, if you stopped making ‘I wanna have your babies’ eyes, you could ask her out,” Ava tries to explain. She almost adds a what’s the worst that could happen? but she knows exactly where your mind will go.

“I don’t wanna ‘have her babies,’ you freak,” you sigh as you get some hot water, “I just… I dunno. I don’t want to ruin the friendship I have with her when she inevitably rejects me.”

She’s obsessed with you, she won’t reject you, Ava wants to say. Even if others, and even herself, would label her selfish, the one thing she doesn’t ever let slide is you letting your insecurity get the best of you. She likes her extra job as your personal hype-woman when you get in your head. Ava weighs her option, “well… you could put out some feelers. Invite her somewhere or, I don’t know, look her in the eye when you talk to her.”

“You’re right,” you say with a gruffness that she knows is defeat. If she can just get you and Melissa talking, interacting more, then maybe she and Barb can figure out a way to worm you two together.

“You do like her, don’t you?” She knows the answer, she wants you to say it though.

There’s a deep inhale before you answer, “of course I do. She- she’s so- I do like her, so much. Like, I want to bite a chunk out of the table when she looks at me.”

“Yeah, don’t do that, we don’t know where they’ve been,” Ava says with a touch of disgust, “and she’ll think you’re more of a freak than you already are.” She rightfully earns a smack on the shoulder at that one.

Dipping the ends of her hair into the hot water, you think silently. Ava has a point, if you spent even a tenth of the time you spend thinking about Melissa, when she was right in front of you, talking to her instead, you’d probably not be so nervous at the thought of making eye contact with her. Sometimes it was nice though, just getting to look at her, seeing her easy smile when she speaks to Barbara and the playful glint in her eye when she lovingly picks on Jacob. Whenever her attention falls on you, you shy away. Maybe Ava has a point.

At Barbara and Melissa’s weekly brunch that same Saturday morning, their conversation falls down a similar path.

Ever the professional deterrer, Melissa manages to push the conversation away from the topic of you, trying to keep Barb on Gerald or bible club. Usually her friend catches the hint to stay away from the topic, but there’s no way she was getting out of this one.

“So… are we gonna keep beating around the bush or are we going to talk about it?”

Melissa just sips her mimosa, suddenly interested in the painting across the room.

“Melissa.”

What… interesting brush strokes.

“Melissa Ann, so help me.”

She turns back, “yes, Barb?”

“Don’t ‘yes, Barb’ me. Spill,” there is no room for argument.

“There’s nothing to spill, Barb,” Melissa says, and she means it. It’s clear Barbara had picked up on her feelings for you, but nothing had been done to go past acknowledging she cared for you.

Barb tilts her head to the side, “oh, really? So, we’re just going to pretend that you’re not utterly infatuated with everyone’s new favorite third grade teacher?” Melissa stares at Barbara with wide eyes, thrown off by the blunt nature of her inquiry. Her friend only shakes her head, “for the good Lord’s sake, Melissa. Anyone with eyes can see you’ve got feelings for them, and I know you know that too.”

Green eyes shift away from brown, and they instead stare at the drink in front of her, nervous hands coming up to play with the umbrella to keep them busy instead of shaking in her lap. What Barb said wasn’t untrue, she knows it. Barbara Howard is always right in the end. But that isn’t where the apprehension in her gut stems from.

“Yeah, yeah. I know,” Melissa mumbles, insecurity from her mind reaching her throat.

Barbara can sense it and tries a softer approach, “I think I can say on good authority that the feelings are probably mutual. You could give it a shot, they’d be lucky to have you.”

“And what’s that good authority?”

“My eyes,” Barbara deadpans, her face reading are you serious?

The conversation stops there, more of a self preservation move for the kindergarten teacher. Underneath the silence from Melissa, it’s obvious her mind is going in circles trying to weigh her options. Did she have feelings for you? Yes. But would she do anything if she wasn’t one hundred percent certain you’d return her feelings? No. She was almost certain you didn’t, you rarely ever looked her in the eye and you got all quiet and mumbly when she spoke.

Conclusion: Barb’s nuts.

—☽—

When Monday comes back around, you feel like the air in the lounge, or at least around your table, is different. Barbara’s eyes keep shifting between you and Melissa in what she thinks are subtle glances, but the constant eyes on you start making you nervous. Shifting uncomfortably for a moment, you rise from your chair to go to the coffee pot to get away from the prying. While your back is to them, a different form of attention falls on you. Olive eyes scan over you with a soft glint, taking the opportunity to admire you when you’re not looking. Her attention feels different from Barb’s, you can feel it without seeing it. It’s warm, all consuming.

When you turn back around, you can see a section of Melissa’s hair swinging slightly from motion. She was looking at you, and she was hiding it horribly. Instead of mentioning it, you just sit and check your school email. In the weekly scheduling, you see that the recess duty that you typically had with Mrs. Benning from sixth grade, was now with Melissa for the entire week.

Your eyebrows jump slightly at the find, before you have to fight an eye roll at Ava’s obvious meddling. Seeing this, Melissa speaks up, “something interesting?”

“No, no,” you barely get out at a normal cadence, “just switches in the schedule, wasn’t expecting it.”

She nods slowly, “are you… not okay with that?” You try not to pout at the insecurity that bleeds just the smallest amount in her question.

“Of course I’m okay with it, no reason not to be,” you hope your genuineness was showing, “just different is all.” A muted smirk crosses her lips before she takes a sip of her coffee to cover her face, you pretend not to notice the move, as well as the butterflies swarming in your stomach. You turn your attention to your phone in your lap.

To AVA ♔ : you’re not slick

From AVA ♔ : good thing i wasn’t trying to be

From AVA ♔ : get up in that cannoli

To AVA ♔ : speaking privileges revoked until further notice

You try to not think about the prospect of an extra half hour with Melissa today, and for the rest of the week, but the thought of her crosses your mind and brings a smile to your face. When you are walking your kids back from music, you selfishly take the extra second you’re in the hall to glance towards Melissa’s classroom. Cursive letters on the board in her loopy handwriting being narrated by her expressive face and fast-moving hands. Another grin crosses your lips before you spin on your heel back to your room.

As lunch rolls around, there’s a giddy feeling in your chest that grows with every passing second. Was she even going to talk to you? Maybe not, but time with Melissa is time with Melissa. Just when you’re sliding your gloves on, there’s a tap at your door. Red hair tucked under an Eagles hat and thick black jacket, she’s never been more beautiful.

Winter at Abbott meant beautifully crafted snowmen that had just a touch of dirt on it, but the kids just decided it was freckles. Most of them were working together on their snowmen, while others were trying to see how long they could hang upside down on the monkey bars in their snow clothes. Melissa, after five minutes of churning the idea over in her mind, moves closer to you, the nylon of your jackets making a fssh sound as they brush together gently. The red on her cheeks was likely from the cold, but the darker shade that blossoms at you smiling and turning to her, that’s all you.

The silence between you is easy, for once it doesn’t make Melissa skeptical. It’s comforting, no nervous rambling or awkward attempts to fill the silence, just peaceful silence as your shoulder moves closer to hers.

Tuesday is just the same, with Melissa coming to your classroom to pick you up for recess duty. Wednesday you meet her in your doorway. The peaceful silence is broken when you check your phone to see copious texts in the teacher group chat, most of which are Janine and Jacob and only two are Gregory. All you let out is a little hum.

“What’s going on?” Melissa asks from beside you, her eyes staying on Marcus attempting to climb on top of the monkey bars.

“Groupchat’s going crazy. Janine and Jacob want a ‘teacher’s night out plus Ava,’ and they’re asking if everyone’s good to go next Friday at seven,” your tone suggests a bit of disinterest, but if Melissa goes, you could be easily persuaded.

Her brows scrunch for only a half second before asking, “what bar?”

“The Penman’s Alcove? Guess Jacob suggested it,” you say after scrolling through the nearly forty messages.

“Sounds like Jacob suggested it,” she says with a sputtered laugh. To her delight, you chuckle from beside her, and she brings her full attention to you, “you going?”

You bite your inner lip and flick your eyes to the side, “maybe. Are you?”

“Maybe.”

—☽—

Ava, who always demands you pick her up when you go out, insists on driving to the bar. When she gets to your apartment and does a once over of your jeans and loose-fitting sweater, she gives you a face of disapproval.

“That is not club attire. What ladies are you going to pick up if you’re dressed like a grandma?”

You roll your eyes as you move to let her in, “it’s not a club, it’s a bar. That Jacob picked out. And I’m not trying to ‘pick up’ ladies?”

“Aw, you’re already committed to Schemmenti. Cute,” her laugh at her own comment is cut off by the pillow you whip at her head, another ready if she pipes up again, “no need to get violent, I’ll stop.”

Her only reply is a huff as you grab your boots and shove in your fluffy-socked feet. Ava rises off the couch, leaving the pillow-turned-missile behind. When she’d asked you earlier in the day if ‘your woman’ was coming to the bar, you’d only shrugged, but with a quick text to Barbara, Ava knew the redhead would be there.

Barbara and Ava had made a pact, that despite their differing reasons for not wanting to go, would only attend the outing to insure that you and Melissa would both go as well. It had taken some convincing on Melissa’s end, but the moment her best friend said your name, her tune changed. She agreed to go as long as she drove herself there, so that when she wanted to inevitably leave early, she could.

As Ava pulls into the parking lot of the bar, neither of you hold back the rolling of your eyes. It was very Jacob. You share a look with your best friend, silently asking what did we agree to?

The Penman’s Alcove is tiny, shoved into one of the smallest brick buildings either of you had ever seen. One window was completely blocked off by a decorative book display, the other gave view to the wooden bar top and wooden support beam that was turned into a cylindrical bookcase with lights weaving around it. What is lacking in space, it clearly made up for in atmosphere.

“You both came!” Jacob’s voice echoes from the door to where you and Ava stand as you evaluate the building. You immediately elbow Ava to stop the joke that you could feel on the tip of her tongue.

“Said I would, didn’t I?” you asked as you got closer, appreciating how Jacob switched his arms from the instinctive hug he wanted to give to giving you a gentle pat on the shoulder. “Anyone else here yet?”

“Well, Janine, Gregory, me, duh, Barbara, and Melissa just got here, so,” his voice becomes a little sheepish, “you’re the last ones here.”

“Fashionably late,” you and Ava say at the same time, though your tone is more flat since you only said it because you knew she would.

Walking into the bar, the small space didn’t feel bigger, just smaller as you realized just how many shelves of countless books there were. The twenty person capacity limit was starting to make sense as you quickly side stepped around other people to keep up with Jacob. Everyone comes into view, but as green eyes meet yours, cameo light surrounds her and she’s all you can see. The stutter in your step is noticed by no one but Ava, who subtly grabs your arm to pull you closer to everyone, closer to Melissa.

Greetings and small talk fill the space, but all of it is background noise. When Janine finally releases you from her energetic retelling of the four hours it’s been since she last saw you, your attention is finally able to rest on the woman who it had been dying to be on. Melissa sees your eyes flick around until they find her, and she curses how her heart flutters at the way you move towards her in an instant.

Leaning your arms on the bartop, you lean over slightly to order a rum and coke before turning entirely towards the redhead. Even though it had been barely four hours since you’d seen her, you felt yourself missing her. Her eyes, her hair, her laugh, especially the one she barks out when she can’t control herself and laughs suddenly. Something in the navy shirt she wore instead of her bright greens and pinks told you she wanted to fit into the environment, like she didn’t want anyone to see her in such a… Jacob place. Her attempt to keep attention away, yet for you it was impossible not to be drawn to her.

Just like every other time you saw her, your eyes quickly dipped to her neck, a tiny smile passing your lips at her Saint Dominic pendant she had received from her Nana before she’d passed. When you met her eyes, the small smile on your lips grew, and hers did to match.

“Thought you’d never show up,” Melissa says playfully, but with a quiet tone, her words only for you.

“Surprised you even showed,” you mimicked her tone.

Melissa weighs her options before replying, “Barbara told me I should, told me I can count it as my good act of the year.” She relishes in your silent laugh, little puffed breaths leaving you as you turn your face away from her just for a moment to hide. Melissa had realized three days into knowing you that this was her favorite thing, this quiet laugh of yours, she knew that when you turned away, it meant it was genuine.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here,” you say with earnest, “if that's any consolation.”

A smile plays on glossy, pink lips, “I’m glad I’m here, too.”

Two drinks later, and you found yourself meandering through the shelves of books, naturally being drawn to the fantasy section that was oddly close to the classics you also enjoyed. The small bar had reached capacity only a half hour after you’d arrived, and the bustling conversation was starting to pierce your eardrums. The cushions on the floor had become your new seat, in this almost-quiet corner.

The light vibrations of footsteps approaching brings your mind out of the dragon story you were falling into. Your eyes look up to see red hair contrasting against the shadows from the shelves. Melissa lowers herself carefully onto the cushion beside you, taking utmost care in not getting too far into your space. Her finger pokes the book in your hands, pushing it closer to you to read the cover, only a low hum leaving her throat.

She bumps her knee with yours, a silent you alright? She’s seen you get overwhelmed at assemblies and work parties before, often keeping an eye on you as you stuck to a corner, too polite to leave the room. You bump her knee back, a little smile on your lips, a quiet I’m okay. Melissa plays with the creases in her jeans as she tries to think of what to say, but you beat her to it.

“You know what’s fucked? You can’t even check out the books here,” you state with exasperation. “What’s the point of having all these books if you can only read them if you come here?”

Melissa warms with affection at your word, “No one would bring them back, hon.”

“I would,” you mumble with an incredulous tone in your voice, “but no, not even a checkout fee or, I don’t know, collateral.”

“Collateral!” Melissa laughs out. “Gonna hand over your watch to hold onto until you bring the book back?”

“I’d give them my car for those early editions of Mary Shelley’s work,” you half-joke as you nod towards the faded green and blue books. You look at Melissa for a moment, reading her face quickly before leaning into her space, “don’t even suggest stealing them.”

“Would they even notice?”

“These IPA-enjoyers? Definitely, unfortunately.”

Melissa never cared much for the classics, especially not the ones assigned to her in school. She preferred the historical fiction and true crime novels her grandfather introduced her to, but there was something intriguing about the ones you were showing her. There is peace in the way your fingers trace over the pages, a sort of reverence in how you hold each book. Sylvia Plath and Emily Brontë, Greek tragedies and comedies, they never sounded this interesting as they did when they came from your lips.

The world outside of this hidden corner continues to disappear around the two of you, the prying eyes peeking around the corner are completely lost on the two of you. Your eyes on the books, Melissa’s eyes on you. Ava and Barbara’s eyes, on the other hand, were flicking between the two of you before finding each other's eyes. A shared nod began the next step in their plan.

Ava, in a highly out of character fashion, quietly left the bar without saying anything to anyone, and drove off towards Iggy’s apartment. Barbara, pretending not to notice, went back to her conversation with Gregory regarding what he plans on growing in the garden for springtime. It’s Janine who notices Ava’s lacking presence, she peeks out into the parking lot, and sure enough, the silver car you’d arrived in was gone.

In a child-like fashion, Janine tugs on Barbara’s sleeve to gain her attention, “Ava’s gone.”

“What?” Barbara responds with faux surprise.

“Ava, she left. Like, gone. Not here,” without having to ask Barbara to be the one to tell you, Janine was definitely hinting at not being the one to say your best friend ditched you here.

The kindergarten teacher follows the maze of shelves, steps quickening as she gets closer to hushed voices in the furthest corner. In your own little, say you and Melissa, her legs stretched out as she leaned back against her hands while you sat close to her in criss-cross. There are two piles of older books in front of you, ones you had already shown her and the ones you were going to, and Melissa seemed completely unbothered by the infodumping you laid upon her.

Barbara politely clears her throat to make you aware of her presence, watching you nearly jumping away from Melissa as you realize the closeness between you. Pretending not to notice she speaks carefully, “dear, I just wanted to tell you that Ava left a couple of minutes ago.”

The nerves you felt dissipate, annoyance and a small anger taking its place, “what do you mean? She fully just left? Did she even say anything?”

“No, she must’ve snuck out. Janine noticed before the rest of us that she’d taken off,” Barbara is impressed by her own ability to fib so easily.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, keeping yourself from exploding. You rise from your spot next to the redhead, who is quick to follow in your stride, and grab your phone to call you friend. Speedily stepping through the shelves, you step outside as you press Ava’s contact.

She picks up on the second ring, which only pisses you off further, “what’s up, boo?”

“Where the fuck are you? You did not just seriously ditch me,” you waste no time.

“That little library was not the vibe. Plus, you were too busy nerding it up with Red,” she jokes, almost mockingly.

“You were my ride, Ava,” you sigh, “this isn’t cool, especially when I’m going to have to ask Janine to drive me home since she carpooled with Jacob and Gregory.”

“I know who you can ask for a ride,” the laugh she speaks through only hammers home your aggravation, “maybe she’ll give you more than one.”

A hard groan escapes your throat, “you owe me big time, asshole.”

“Yeah, yeah. Thank me later,” she hangs up on you before you can respond, the beeping tone of the disconnection feels more mocking than your friend straight up laughing in your ear.

When you step back inside, your brows are furrowed, deep creases on your forehead as you practically steam with anger. Never before would Janine, Gregory, or Jacob say they were intimidated by you, but right now, they can’t deny that you are almost as frightening as Melissa’s angry walk. Barbara looks at Melissa pointedly, motioning with her head towards you to tell her to talk to you.

The redhead is already in motion, immediately in front of you, “what did she say?”

Sarcasm and irritation drop from your voice, “the ‘library’ wasn’t ‘her vibe,’ so she’s apparently ditching me to ride home with Gregory and the Chipmunks.”

She doesn’t want to laugh at your predicament, but she can’t help it. Her hand rises to rub your arm reassuringly, “I’ll drive you home.”

“You don’t ha-”

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to. Let me get you home,” the gentleness in her voice makes the icy anger in you melt into a puddle, the hand on your arm was grounding.

“Okay,” your voice just above a whisper in the space between you.

“Okay,” her tone matching yours as she smiles.

Melissa’s car is warm, her presence beside you warmer. With only a couple blocks left before you reach your apartment, you find yourself wishing you knew how to slow, or even stop, time. Would inviting her upstairs seem forward? Is asking her if she wants coffee better? No, stupid, who wants coffee at ten at night? All you need is to be around her.

When her car parks in the lot of your building, neither of you move, not you to get out or her to tell you to. You turn your face towards her, resting your chin on your shoulder, peering through your lashes at her. She matches your position, looking back at you with a little grin.

“Thank you for listening to me,” your voice is quiet and insecure.

Melissa leans a little closer, “thank you for letting me.”

“I’ll see you Monday?” You don’t want to leave, but despite it being Friday, it has also been a school day. You’re tired, and you can see in her slightly droopy eyes that she is too.

“Bright and early,” she answers, eyes flicking to your lips shortly in a way you wish you hadn’t seen. She makes it impossible to want to leave.

Melissa stays in her parking spot until you disappear into the building, not before you glance once more at her and wave shyly. Her head rests against the steering wheel as she struggles to compose herself, before pulling out on the street.

You both fall asleep that night to dreams about the secret corner you’d found yourselves in, books stacked around while your eyes stayed on each other.

—☽—

There’s a certain pep in your step come Monday morning, but a small amount of dread knowing you’ll have to face Ava later. She knew better to keep her distance over the weekend, but though your annoyance with her was fading, it was definitely there. You push into the lounge, immediately gravitating towards the coffeemaker.

You enjoy the hum of the TV, Jim Gardener’s voice coming from the speakers as you focus on Melissa in your periphery. Clicking steps in the hallway stiffen your back, all eyes in the room shifting to you as your best friend, boss, and ditcher enters. The cocky smile on her face falls when you stand and leave the room without a word.

“Seriously? Still mad?” Ava asks with such a genuine tone that Gregory’s head drops into his hands.

Melissa speaks before Ava can even blink, feeling like she had to defend you after seeing how upset you’d been, “so selfish you couldn’t even give a heads up? Some best friend you are, ditching them.” Ava only responds by raising her hands in defeat, giving up on an argument with Melissa before it starts.

“You checking on that one or should I?” Mr. Johnson asks from the doorway where he’s collecting the trash, his eyes set on Melissa. His answer is just the second grade teacher pointing at herself in question, surprised that he would’ve thought of her to check on you. His face screws up, “duh? Who else?”

She listens. When Melissa reaches your classroom, quickly carried by fast and angry steps, she sees you at your whiteboard, writing the agenda and date on it. The unusually harsh strokes of your writing show her exactly what mood she’s walking into. She almost jumps when she knocks on the door and your head whips her way, hard face softening.

“Hey,” you breathe out, going back to writing the afternoon’s schedule.

“Hey. I just wanted to check on you,” she she says as she slides the orange marker down towards you.

“I’m fine, really. I’m mostly just pissed Ava left me like that and thinks it’s hilarious. You’d think I would be used to it by now, but apparently not,” you huff, “just like her mom always says, Ava’s gonna Ava.”

“How long you giving her the silent treatment?”

“Till she actually apologizes and doesn’t just assume it’s all good, it’s the only way. I’m not even that mad about it, if she wanted to leave she could’ve just said,” you shift your weight from foot to foot, “it’s the principle of it.”

Melissa glances over your face, grateful you don’t seem to notice, and she realizes it's less anger, more disappointment. It’s so starkly different from the smile that played on your lips and the gleam in your eyes just the other night. She so badly wants that back, she craves your smile.

It took three days for Ava to finally apologize, and she only does when she comes over to your apartment, no interest in letting the other hear her grovel. She hadn’t meant to make you upset, she was just trying to get you and Melissa alone, and so far, her efforts seemed to be working. She was diligent to not let out that it was a joint plan between her and Barbara, and that Melissa was getting played just as much as you.

—☽—

A snow storm Thursday night almost takes out your power, and the chill seeps through the brick walls, forcing you to bed early in a bundle of blankets. You wake up to your phone ringing at five in the morning, only a half hour before your alarm was to go off. Seeing Ava’s contact worried you immediately.

“What?” you say through a yawn, “are you okay?”

“Aw, you love me,” she jokes through her own large yawn.

“I do. Now, what do you want?”

“It’s a snow day, bitch. The roads aren’t too bad, but apparently the buses are fucked.”

You sigh with contentment, “snow day means I’m going back to bed.”

“Okay, lazy. I’ll see you tomorrow for wine night?”

You can barely answer through another yawn, “yeah, yeah. I’ll be there.”

It’s not until ten that you wake up again, sunlight reflecting off the fresh snow and making your room too bright to stay asleep any longer. The air in the room is too cold for your taste, leaving you to wrap your throw blanket around yourself as you trudge out to your kitchen for the promise of warm coffee. As coffee drips into the pot, the star-printed throw is replaced by your favorite grey sweatshirt, the faded university logo still maintaining a touch of the maroon and silver it once was.

The second cup of coffee tastes of cinnamon and cream, the warmth keeping your hands from stiffening under the cold of your building. No matter how much you turned up the heat, the draft made it obsolete. As you pour a third cup, clinging to the warmth it gave, you feel your phone buzz in your Abbott sweatpants.

From Melissa: How busy are you today?

To Melissa: on a snow day? not at all. why?

From Melissa: I’ve got a surprise for you.

To Melissa: should i be worried?

From Melissa: Do you trust me?

To Melissa: you know i do

When she doesn’t answer, anticipation starts to take hold. It hits you as you nervously sip your coffee, you’re still in your pajamas and Melissa is coming. You tumble down to your room, switching the sweatpants for an old pair of jeans, the faded sweatshirt for a thick black sweater, fluffy socks into slippers. Part of you grapples if you should make coffee for the both of you, the other part tells you a fourth cup may give you a heart attack upon seeing Melissa, your heart would never be able to take it.

A quiet ping from your phone alerts you that Melissa is down in the lot as she waits for you. You don’t even take a moment to answer, just quickly throwing on your denim jacket before hurrying down the steps to the bottom floor. Peeking your head out, you see the only car with lights on, the familiar black car making you smile. The snow had slowed overnight, wisps still quickly sticking to your hair and clothes.

Melissa doesn’t notice your approach, not until you tap on her frosted window with your knuckles, making her jump. She was lost in her mind, thinking about how bad of an idea it was, startling quickly at your tap, but quickly soothed by your smile and little wave. Melissa steps out of the car, leaning against it to keep you from peeking in her window and seeing the passenger seat.

“You really shouldn’t’ve driven, what if the roads were nasty?” you say with concern, despite the fact that you couldn’t be happier with her presence.

“They weren’t, I got here just fine,” she says, placating the worry.

You can’t even hide the smile that shows itself, “what sort of surprise was worth the black ice?”

“There was no black ice,” she laughs, shifting under your gaze, “but I hope it’s a surprise you’ll like.” There’s an unusual nervousness in her, one that you can’t help but feel and want to soothe.

“If it’s from you, I definitely will.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Try me,” you cock your head to the side, a sly smirk on your face. Melissa ducks her face, concealing her blush. She opens the door, leaning in to grab the bag from the seat. A deep breath leaves her lungs as she composes herself before facing you. The paper bag is stretched out towards you, green eyes begging you to relieve her of this weight.

You try to be careful, not wanting the gentle snow to touch the contents. Peering up at Melissa, she urges you to open it. You reach in and feel something, a cloth covered board you think, until you feel what you think are pages. A book? No, three.

You pull back your hand, the books coming with it. A faded green cover with black serif text reads Frankenstein, the blue reads The Short-Stories of Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley: A Complete Collection, and the final red one, Mathilda. The books you had fawned over a week ago were now in your hands, the very same you said you’d give your car for. No words form, only thick tears in your eyes that you pray don’t fall. They were the exact same books, the copies from the bar, and now they’re in your hands.

You can only look at the redhead, absolutely bewildered. She gives you a weak smile, having a hard time gauging your reaction and you slide the books back into the bag to protect them. There’s no warning, not verbal or even a glint in your eye, before you fling yourself onto her, wrapping your arms around her neck.

“Thank you, oh my fucking God, thank you, thank you, what the fuck?” your words fall out of your mouth, barely able to contain the delight running through your veins.

Melissa doesn’t answer right away, only wrapping her arms around you and basking in the feeling of you there. You smell like coffee and cinnamon, she wishes she could find out if your lips taste the same. Neither of you move, not wanting to be the one who breaks away first.

After a minute, your face lifts from her neck, but you don’t remove yourself from her arms. She meets your gaze, watching you watch her. Melissa is the most beautiful person you’ll ever meet, you’re sure of it. But right here, right now? She’d never been more so, nothing else compared to the snow stuck to her lashes, the pink of her cheeks from the chilled air, the lack of makeup across her skin allowing you to see all her freckles and the lines around her eyes.

“You got me the books,” it's a simple sentence, but there’s a weight to it that Melissa almost can’t handle.

She smiles so softly it makes you want to cry, “you love them, you wanted them.” The look in your eyes changes, and Melissa seems to notice. She finally speaks up, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing is, at least I hope not,” you answer truthfully.

“Why that look on your face then?” Her lips look so soft, you have to tell her.

You swallow your pride, pursing your lips before telling her the thought that had been on your mind since you met her, “I really want to kiss you.”

It appears she feels the same, Melissa immediately leans into you, lips pressing to yours. You knew they’d be soft, and God were they. Her hands plant themselves on your hips while yours cup her neck, pulling her as close as you possibly can. Spinning suddenly, you find yourself pressed against her car, cold metal freezing you through your layers, but warm lips make the cold feel little. For someone so abrasive, Melissa was so soft, holding you like you were the most precious thing to her. Her tongue licked at your bottom lip, asking for entry. And who are you to deny her?

Her tongue traces yours, a groan comes from deep in your chest that only spurs her on further. She presses impossibly closer to you, hands sliding up to hold you at your ribs, pressing into your jacket in an attempt to get closer. Your blunt nails dig into her neck, not enough to hurt, just to feel more of her. All you’ve wanted since you met her was to be this close, and it felt like an unreachable dream until now.

Her lips pull away, only to be chased by yours. You press gentle, chaste kisses to her lips, and it only becomes more difficult as matching dopey grins grow on your faces. Her hand rises to your cheek, caressing the chilled skin that warms under her touch.

She barely hears your words over her rapidly beating heart, “you’re so pretty.”

“Haven’t seen yourself then, huh?” she jokes, pretending your statement didn’t make her feel like a giggly teenager.

“Funny, but I mean it. You’re so pretty,” your hand shifts around her cup her jaw, “I can’t believe you got those books for me. How?”

She smirks to herself, “I just asked nicely.”

“Nicely? Did you bat your lashes and give them that award-winning smile?” The sarcasm that should have been there sounds more like adoration, the lazy smile on your lips making them look even more kissable than they’d been before.

“Exactly, they just handed them right over,” she feels like a pile of mush with you looking at her like this.

The hand on her jaw pulls her in closer, “they’d be stupid not to.” There’s no chance to reply, just your lips pressing to hers again. It feels as easy as breathing with you, like she was supposed to be doing this the whole time. When you pull away, it’s just barely, a silent request in the way you stroke her cheek.

Reluctantly, she pulls away from you to take her keys out of the ignition and grabs her purse from the floor of the car. An arm wraps around hers as you lead her towards the door to your building, the other tightly holds the books against your chest. It was too soon to say it, but you knew that right here, right now, you were utterly in love with Melissa Schemmenti. The woman who probably threatened the employees at the Penman’s Alcove for the books when they said she couldn’t buy them, the one who listened for two hours as you spoke about authors and books she’d never cared about before.

She cared now. She cared because you did.

Melissa knew the moment you saw the books, that she would do whatever it takes to see that wonder on your face again. She thinks to herself that endeavor would be a good way to spend the rest of her life.

title is from a quote from mary shelley’s mathilda: “you are still, as you ever were, beyond beautiful expression.”

i chose the st. dominic for mel’s pendant bc hes typically worn by educators

feedback appreciated as always <3

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #lisa ann walter #abbott elementary #lgbtq fanfiction #lesbian #lgbtq

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multi-fandomedfreak · 2 years ago

Note

Hi, may I request headcanons for Connor, Nines and Ralph (separately)? How would they react if reader took them to buy clothes for themselves for the first time?

Authors note: This is so stinkin cuteee

Characters: Connor, Nines, and Ralph

⚠️ Warnings ⚠️ : Ralph is a little insecure about his scar lol, very fluffy

🪙 Connor 🪙

-He would be so grateful for you to buy him clothes

-He doesn’t wanna walk around in that Cyberlife uniform all the time lol

-Even though he’s Deviant he’s still not used to doing things for himself a lot

-So when he hears that he gets to pick out his own clothes

-He just awkwardly sifts through the clothes at the store

-You find it pretty cute how he has no idea what he’s even looking for poor boy

-Eventually he asks you for help and you both get swept into a shopping spree

-If you asked him to, he’d definitely give you a little fashion show as he tries on clothes

-He may or may not get addicted to shopping with you

-I also feel like once he gets a sense of what kind of clothes he wants

-He’ll pick out so. many. suits.

-And of course many ties to match

-Idk why but yeah he just loves lookin dapper

-Although he would be very considerate of your budget and would try not to buy too many things

-Just keep a close eye on him tho

-Bc he will get lost in the store (poor boy gets too curious)

💙 Nines 💙

-He is so confused on why you want to buy him clothes

-He’s all like: “But I already have clothes.”

-And you gotta convince him that one suit just isn’t enough

-Literally takes forever to convince him to let you buy him some clothes

-And he’s even more confused-for some reason- that he has to go with you to buy them

-If you could give a question mark a face, it’d be the face that Nines is making

-He just didn’t think he would actually be picking out the clothes himself

-So you make it a goal for him to start making decisions for himself

-When you both get to mall, a little like Connor, he has no clue on where to start picking out clothes

-So you both take a while to first discuss what kind of clothes he wants

-And then you finally start picking out clothes

-I feel like Nines would def get a bunch of suits too

-But not like Connor, Connor at least knows he can’t have just suits

-But no, Nines wants ONLY SUITS

-Takes more time to explain how he can’t just have suits

-Literally took almost the whole day to just buy him clothes

-But it was worth it because he was grateful for it in the end

🌿 Ralph 🌿

-He’s ecstatic about getting new clothes!!

-He wants to look more presentable and is beyond grateful you would offer to buy him clothes

-Like I’m pretty sure the amount of time he said “thank you” that day

-Was the amount of times someone says “thank you” in a lifetime

-Buuut he gets a little hesitant when you ask him to come with you to buy his clothes

-He hatesss the idea of going out in public

-Especially with his scar, he’s super insecure about it

-So tons of reassuring later, you and Ralph are in the store picking out his clothes

-The entire time he’s practically glued to your side

-Like literally. He has not let go of your hand the moment you both let the house

-But it’s not as bad as he first thought

-He actually starts having fun picking out his clothes and trying them on

-Definitely a flustered mess when you compliment the clothes he tries on

-He’s confused but happy that no one has said anything about his scar

-Totally not having to do with you giving anyone The Death Stare™️ if they even breath at Ralph the wrong way

-Over all it was a very fun experience for the both of you

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princessbrunette · 1 year ago

Note

love ur blog SO much could scroll thru it for hours and hours <3

for jj (if you want!): dealer!jj and reader who has a crush on him comes to buy weed for the first time? in my head she smokes by herself, gets super high & then panics and comes back to jj’s and confesses LOL bc that would be some shit I would do!!!

thank u so much !! and yes,, i love this idea hehe ◝(ᵔᵕᵔ)◜ ‹𝟹

⊹ . ⁺ 🐰🎀⋅˚₊𐙚

the first half of your weed purchasing experience went fairly smoothly, well — as smoothly as it can for someone who has no idea what they’re talking about.

you’d shown up just a little after 4 in the prettiest skirt and your lashes extra long, coated in black. you couldn’t believe you’d worked up the courage to wind up buying weed from the guy you’d had a crush on since you were little (who seemed too chaotic to ever pay attention to little old you!) but it was soon you were stood in his house, having him talk you through each strain — and you had to try extra hard to focus because he looked so good and his hands were so big and —

“i’mma take a shot in the dark and say you’re fairly new to this right? in that case i’d prooobably suggest this, s’on the milder side, just chills you out a bunch.” he slides a packet towards you, eyes flickering up to you to catch you already looking at him.

“how’d you know i’m new to this?” you start digging in your purse for the wad of cash you brought to avoid looking at him.

“oh jus’ vibes.” he shrugs, smiling when you look back up at him, cash in hand. “its cute though, i dig it anyway.” he takes the notes from you and you swallow a love confession. “want me to roll it for you?”

he rolls the joints for you, and you try not to stare like a creep before you’re out the door in no time, breathing in the balmy late afternoon air and riding off on your bike to your empty house, family away for the weekend, to smoke your maybank special.

the second half of your experience, not so smooth.

you chaotically steer your little bike with a basket up to his house not even two hours later, paranoid and practically crashing the vehicle onto the grass as you hop off it, hands shaking at your side. jj, embarrassingly is already on the porch, stroking a stray cat with a cigarette in his mouth.

when he spots you frantically moving towards him he stands slowly, tossing the end of his cigarette aside. “ohhhh boy.” he speaks to himself like he knew what was coming.

“hey, hi, uhm.” you pant, violently struggling for breath as you clench and unclench your hands at your sides.

“you good?” he frowns, stepping towards you.

“i just— i’m so sorry to bother you but i — i smoked it alone for my first time and i don’t think i did it right or maybe it’s just reacting with me super bad and now i’m shaking and i feel really weird and i didn’t know who to go to — i— i just was wondering if there was a way to become un-high, cos i — i didn’t really wanna do it in the first place i just came to buy weed from you because i have this ridiculously huge crush on you and i thought hey what the hell—”

“heeeey, hey. breathe, okay? deep breath in girlie, look at me, right here.” he places his hands on your shoulders, face right infront of yours and for a moment you’re stunned. not only because you said all of that out loud, but because his hands were on you. “thats right, now breathe out.” he puffs his cheeks out, blowing out himself like he was encouraging a baby and you copy him, wide glassy eyes fixated on him like he was your life line.

“sorry.” you whisper and he smiles, adorable dimples indenting his cheeks.

“for what? come in, you look like you need some water.” he guides you inside his house, closing the door behind you as you try your best to stay calm. your brain felt slow and fast at the same time and all your nerve endings felt alight, constantly on the verge of a panic attack. “here, sit down— yeah? mi casa es su casa, or whatever. i never took french.” he ushers you to the couch, clumsily tripping over an empty beer can before kicking it aside and skidding off to the kitchen, returning with a glass of water.

“you ride your bike here?” he realises, sitting beside you as he hands you your drink.

“y—yeah.” you release a shaky exhale, bringing the glass to your lips.

“drink that nice n’slow, atta girl. see? you’re alright!” he makes an effort to keep his voice gentle, looking like he was going to reach out to put a hand on your arm but decided against it. you put the glass aside, palm coming to rub uncomfortably over the skin on your chest where your heart was. “heart feel a little fast?”

“mhm.” you mewl pathetically, mortified. you must have fumbled it, there was nothing sexy about winding up on your crushes couch having a panic attack.

“thats pretty normal, yeah. just gotta breathe n’shit.” he nods, resting his elbows on his knees as he watches you. “it’ll feel better when you just let it do what it needs to do, trust me.”

you try and follow his advice, sitting quietly for a few minutes as you lean back and relax into his couch, taking deep breaths and letting the high run its natural course. after a little while, you feel a giggle bubble up.

“uh-oh, there she is.” you hear the smile in his voice and he’s already looking at you.

“i totally freaked, m’sorry.” you’re all blissed out now, finally relaxed.

“oh you’re good— uh, yeah. what even happened? like—how much did you smoke?”

“the whole joint.” you shrug, snickering again.

“yeah that… probably was a lot for your first time, huh?” he grins, shaking his head. “if i knew you were this clueless about this shit, no offence, i would have offered to smoke with you, ‘ya know? be your guide. your ganja guru, if you will.”

“maybe you can teach me the right way to do it next time?” you try, feeling braver under the influence. his eyes flutter with something unrecognisable in your state and he nods.

“y—yeah. yeah for sure. totally.”

“unless i kinda ruined the vibes with that whole embarrassing confession outside.” you groan, lifting a hand to smush against your warm cheek. his eyes widen and he shakes his head.

“no! no, it was cute… i had no idea man, i would’ve closed. you crushing on me? c’mon man i’d be all over that.” he chuckles awkwardly, watching your face melt into the softest and sweetest smile he’d ever seen.

“really? you mean that?”

“hey, it’s not everyday i got a pretty girl on my couch needing me to save her, okay— this is big for me.” he teases.

you spend the rest of the evening riding out your high, before sleepily riding out your dealer beneath the glow of the television. he’ll consider it payment.

⊹ . ⁺ 🐰🎀⋅˚₊𐙚

#anon #dealer!jj #jj maybank prompt

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emmg · 3 months ago

Text

WIP whenever

because @heylittleriotact uno reverse'd me lmfao

bc grading essays is overrated, so here’s a lil’ something from the ridiculous fic I’m forcing my keyboard to suffer through. Plot? Absolutely none. Just Emmrook going on “dates” (and like also… smutty dates) suggested by the other clowns haunting the Lighthouse. This one’s SUPPOSED to end in a coffee date—because Lucanis—but I haven't written that yet lol

Honestly, it’s like… smut-crackfic with necromancy puns that should be punishable by law. I keep saying I’ll write a serious Emmrich one day, but let’s be real, that day isn’t today

Anyway, title? Don’t have one. I'm just throwing a bunch of dashes and slapping a read-more right before it gets too long so it doesn't invade anyone's dash

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

It’s the most absurd scene. Like, truly bonkers.

She hovers in the doorway, conveniently camouflaged by shadows, because though the cringe levels are searing her soul, she simply cannot look away. It’s like watching a runaway cart barreling downhill, if said cart was cobbled together with blissful ignorance and top-tier ineptitude.

There, crammed onto Harding and Neve’s favorite tiny sofa, are Lucanis and Emmrich. And they’re... talking? Sort of? It’s the most agonizing conversation she’s ever been subjected to, and that’s saying something. Lucanis is flailing his hands around, using them more than words, trying to drive home whatever point he’s failing spectacularly to make. Meanwhile, Emmrich, ever the dignified one, has one leg crossed so neatly over the other that it creates this little triangle of space that she suddenly wants to crawl into and hide from the embarrassment radiating off both of them.

"You see," Lucanis laments, his fingers forming that universal gesture of the confused and the desperate, “we went for coffee. But she, well, threw it back. Like a shot of spirits. It was not just any brew. This was from the frost-bitten slopes of the Vimmark Mountains. A dark roast with notes of juniper and just a hint of wild honey. You don’t just drink something like that—you experience it.” He shakes his head. “Her focus was all on that new case file, instead. And fish. Fried fish."

Emmrich nods along thoughtfully. “I understand. However, if I may be so bold, Lucanis, have you perhaps thought of discussing something besides coffee? A change of topic might open new avenues.”

"I did offer to sharpen her knives."

“Knives,” Emmrich repeats, as though weighing the term’s philosophical import. “And… Neve is known to possess a significant collection of blades?”

“No,” says Lucanis, flat as a pancake.

“Ah,” Emmrich replies, offering a sage nod. A wise and knowing “ah,” as if that somehow clarified things. "An unusual approach, then."

Desperate to claw himself out of this conversational pit, Lucanis asks, “Well, what is it you and Rook… do?” He stumbles over the words, as though simply asking has exhausted his entire social skill set for the year.

And now, it’s Emmrich’s turn to squirm. She can almost see his moustache twitching, wishing it could detach itself from his face and make a run for the hills. He looks away, frowning slightly, as though consulting some vast internal library.

They don’t go on dates. Please. Not even the hilariously doomed sort that Lucanis somehow subjected Neve to. For one, neither of them has the time for candlelit strolls with the world about to be ripped apart by blighted elven gods strutting around like they own the place.

Usually, she just pops into his room and fucks him while he pontificates about the finer points of romance. Oh, she always lets him go on for a hot minute, but once her lips are on his throat and her hands start wandering further south, he finally gets the hint, and that highbrow nonsense about “dignified courtship” goes straight out the window.

Emmrich, after clearing his throat, finally answers, "We discuss books."

From her shadow, she snorts. He's not wrong, technically. Just the other night, she had perched in his lap while he was reading some dry treatise on Fade energy attunement and the properties of dawnstone. He’d even launched into a detailed explanation while she kissed her way down his jaw and neck, hardly deterred by the lecture. Finally, when her hand wandered beneath his shirt, Emmrich, after a brief struggle to finish his monologue, allowed the tome to tumble from his grip.

So yes, “discussing books” might be accurate, but it’s hardly the whole story. And yet here sits Emmrich, steadfast in his scholarly pride, while Lucanis looks ready to take a long walk off a very short pier. She’s not sure which of them is more tragic.

“Hm,” says Lucanis, apparently having reached the absolute zenith of his conversational abilities.

“Ah,” Emmrich replies, with all the enthusiasm of someone describing mildew yet also, somehow, managing to sound very polite about it.

She saunters over to break this pathetic monotony of wall-staring both are currently engaged in.

“My dear,” Emmrich perks up, relief flooding his face as though she’s just rescued him from the depths of some social hell. His voice is full of that charming lilt he uses when he’s desperate to salvage his dignity.

He makes a half-hearted attempt to stand, all dignified and well-bred, but she waves him off with a lazy hand, signalling him to stay seated. And stay he does. Without missing a beat, she slides into his lap, practically draping herself sideways over him, arms winding around his neck. He tenses for a moment, exhales in resignation, but eventually gives in, one hand resting at the small of her back, fingers just barely grazing the line between respectable and… well, decidedly not.

“I hate when you do that,” Lucanis snarls from across the sofa, jabbing a finger at her.

“Yes, it’s not very proper,” Emmrich says with solemnity, though he’s showing absolutely zero signs of protest about her whole backside pressing against him.

With a serene, mischievous grin, she stretches her legs, casually extending them until they’re firmly invading Lucanis’ personal space.

“Mierda,” he grumbles, swatting at her ankle with all the fervor of a cat being swiped at by an annoying feather. “Rook.”

She just grins that beautifully infuriating grin. “Go back to your pantry, Lucanis,” she says sweetly, her tone one of pure, serene malice. “The gouda is getting lonely.”

Lucanis stalks off, glowering as if he’d chuck a knife at her head if he had one in hand. And she’s fairly sure he would.

She blows him a kiss. He shows her the middle finger. They’ll have coffee in the morning.

Meanwhile, Emmrich, ever the portrait of indulgent patience, looks up at her from his cozy place beneath her with a satisfied hum. “How was your day, darling?”

“Good,” she sighs, stretching further until her legs are practically colonizing whatever’s left of Lucanis’ side of the sofa. “Yours?”

Emmrich raises an eyebrow. Makes a contemplative sound deep in his throat. “Enlightening. Lucanis and I were just having… an intriguing discussion.”

“Oh?” she purrs, eyes glinting. “About what, pray tell?”

“Courtship,” he says, savoring the word as though it were some priceless artifact he’s just dusted off from an ancient shelf.

She smirks. “I’m sure you gave him absolutely riveting advice.”

“I certainly tried.” He heaves a great sigh, even rolls a shoulder in a semblance of a shrug. “Though, I fear our preferred methods diverge.”

“‘Preferred methods’?” she echoes, giving his thigh a playful squeeze. “Do enlighten me.”

Emmrich gives her a look that’s half-scholar, half-sufferer. “Well, I fancy a touch of romance, some… sentimentality, if you will. And Lucanis…”

“And Lucanis?” she goads.

“His idea of a grand romantic gesture involves… knives,” he finishes with a sigh of pure exasperation.

She can’t hold back the snort that escapes. “I mean, yeah, it’s Lucanis. Did you expect anything different?” She presses a little closer, trouble dancing in her eyes. “But for what it’s worth, I do love talking about books with you… so very much.”

Emmrich doesn’t miss a beat, a hint of sarcasm curling his lips. “So I’ve gathered.”

“Tell me more about your books, Emmrich,” she coos, batting her eyelashes with all the enthusiasm of a third-rate actress in a chintzy Orlesian play.

“If you’re genuinely interested, I would gladly oblige.”

“Oh, I’m interested,” she purrs, lowering her voice to a husky whisper. “In you talking… while you bend me over your desk.”

Emmrich rolls his eyes, his facade of feigned innocence dissolving in an instant. “There it is,” he says, shaking his head, fully resigned, and yet absolutely, unflinchingly unbothered. “Right on schedule.”

She giggles, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips, laughing against his skin as his mouth curves into a smile. His hand moves down her back, rubbing a little more insistently, as if he’s grounding himself—or maybe just unable to resist the urge to keep her right there.

And she doesn’t make it easy for him. She drags her legs back, swings one over his lap, and settles herself down, straddling him. For a moment, she just studies him, tracing her fingers through his hair, brushing little gray strands back, pressing featherlight kisses along his cheekbones. She moves to his jaw, his forehead, then teases at the edge of that absurdly high collar he insists on wearing like he’s hiding some grand secret rather than just a very biteable throat.

He is fine, she muses, is he not? So impossibly precise, so painfully detailed. He’s all sharp angles and sleek lines, with those maddeningly long fingers that look like they could carve through a mountain if they set their mind to it, and legs that seem to go on for days. Tall, lean, graceful, and—she smirks—a touch too verbose for his own good.

There’s a tragic elegance to him, too, a sort of quiet, melancholic dignity wrapped up in age and maturity, like a bottle of rare, finely aged wine that’s only gotten more complex with the years. A shame, really, that he’s about to be thoroughly enjoyed by someone who wouldn’t know a fine vintage from a spoiled ale.

She’ll savor him all the same, every last bit.

When she takes his hands, winding her fingers through his, she feels him smile—a real, soft thing, so she leans down and steals it right off his mouth. She licks along the seam of his lips, teasing, before he finally gives in and parts them, letting her kiss him in earnest.

“I like your rings,” she murmurs as she pulls back, letting their mouths part with a wet pop, a little string of saliva snapping between them. “They make you look expensive.”

“Not too expensive, I hope,” Emmrich teases. “Otherwise, I fear I’ll meet the same fate as every artifact your merry Lords of Fortune collect. Pilfered in the night, sold to the highest bidder. One moment here, the next—poof. Gone.”

She makes a show of sighing, voice deadly serious. “Oh, don’t worry about that. I’d rig the auction, slip in a pretty penny or two, then plant an inside man to bid on you. Coin in one hand, you smuggled back to me in the other. All in one night.”

He laughs, that rich, throaty sound she loves, and she can feel it rumbling up through his chest. “All that trouble just for me?”

She leans in, lips brushing his ear. “Consider it my own little courtship ritual,” she whispers, nipping at his earlobe. “Better than dinner and a walk, don’t you think?”

He chuckles, his hands slipping to her hips, holding her close as if he’s half-tempted to test just how well she could pull off that heist. “Dangerously persuasive, as usual.”

For a while, she stays just as she is, savoring the closeness, every slow inhale filled with the scent of him, the warmth of his body against hers. She steals little kisses, grazing his jaw, breathing her laughter against his skin each time he starts to smile. She loves the quiet, the intimacy of it all, though she loves his voice just as much. Sometimes, she asks him to read aloud, not for the content, but for that smooth, careful cadence that rolls through her and makes her feel so, so good. She’ll rest her head in his lap, fingers idly tracing patterns on his hands, kissing his knuckles, his fingertips, watching his face as he reads.

Now, there’s nothing for him to read, but she leans into him all the same, letting his quiet words fill the space. He murmurs, babbles, whispers soft nonsense as he unlaces her hair, fingers brushing through the waves, watching as they fall in gentle cascades over his lap. She exhales, content, her eyes half-closed, perfectly happy just to listen as his voice drifts around her, soothing and familiar.

She simply listens, resting her head on his thigh, gazing up at the ceiling, fingers trailing over his hands, kissing his fingers one by one, lingering on each touch. Her teeth gently scrape along his skin, letting her tongue follow in a slow, winding path. She feels his breath hitch, hears him stumble over his words as she nibbles down each finger, tracing her tongue along the edge before she takes it into her mouth, sucking just enough to leave him squirming. She lets each finger slip from her lips with a wet pop, savoring the way his composure falters, how he tries—and fails—to keep his voice steady as she drags her mouth over the center of his palm, kissing, licking, leaving nothing untouched.

He’s given up on this one-sided dialogue entirely, his gaze drifting from her to the room around them—the door, the table, the empty corners where nothing but dust bunnies, or perhaps a few stray Fade bunnies, lurk in silence.

“Dear,” he murmurs, glancing down at her. “We ought to move.” He gives her a gentle nudge, even tries to rise himself, but she’s not having it.

“Oh, but you look so good here,” she protests, her voice dripping with mock innocence. “They’re all asleep, Emmrich. Even Lucanis, that kitchen rat, is probably curled up in his pantry right now, snuggling his precious wheel of parmesan.”

Emmrich lets out a long, put-upon sigh, like he’s reaching deep into his reserve of patience, maybe for some scolding remark, but he finds none. His shoulders drop as he finally relents, letting her kisses chip away at his restraint. She leans in, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper, detailing exactly what she wants him to do with those hands of his—where she wants those fingers, how she wants them stroking, filling, plunging, curling…

“Well then,” he manages, and she laughs, a short, wicked little sound, straight into his mouth.

She slips down his body, her hands already at his waist, working his trousers loose with a grin that says she knows exactly how flushed he’s become. She murmurs something obscene, barely a whisper and almost incoherent, her smirk widening as she leans in closer, taunting, “Come on, Emmrich, don’t tell me no bone was ever… poked… in that crypt of yours, right out in the open for all to see.”

“It’s the Grand Necropolis,” he corrects, like that’ll somehow keep his dignity intact, “and we most certainly do not… poke.”

She undoes the last of the many - too many - buttons on his trousers before freeing him just enough to take him in hand. And oh, would you look at that, for all of his posturing he's already hard. All that wriggling on top of him certainly led to something, she thinks.

“Oh?” she hums, tracing her fingertips over his bare skin, savoring the way he stiffens under her touch. She leans forward, her lips brushing against his length as she murmurs, “Not even a quick tumble between the tombs? Not a single bone used for inspiration?”

His restraint crumbles as she flicks her tongue over him, taking her time, drawing out each little shiver, each catch in his breath, making sure he’s utterly undone before she finally lets her mouth close around him, her gaze locked on his as she starts to take him deeper, her mouth warm, wet, greedy. And as she feels him sink back, his hands clenching in her hair, she knows she’s finally broken that perfect composure, and she couldn’t be more pleased.

Then she pulls back just enough to speak. “So, tell me, is this what you meant by reanimation techniques?”

Emmrich sighs, dragging his free hand over his face as if he could somehow block out the utter cringe tumbling out of her mouth, his fingers twitching, though she doesn’t give him a moment’s peace. She lowers her head again, sucking him in, hollowing her cheeks, before releasing him yet again, his cock slipping past her lips with an obscene, wet pop. “You know," she muses, "I’d say you’re looking rather stiff.”

A sharp exhale escapes him, a half-laugh, half-moan that only encourages her further. She picks up her pace, taking him deeper, her hands braced against his hips as she moves with a steady rhythm, doing that little thing with her tongue she knows he likes, she knows that everyone likes, a talent truly, swirling all the way around, pressing it flat on the underside of his cock, only to suck her way up, breathe hot air against him, before swallowing him again.

Between every few breaths, she pulls back just enough to taunt him, her voice syrupy with mock innocence. She can barely hold back the laughter as she watches him react, his hips bucking ever so slightly with each tease, like clockwork, so deliciously predictable. “Come on, love. I thought resurrection was your specialty?”

“Blasphemy,” he mutters above her, though there’s no real heat in his voice.

“No, no.” She rests her cheek against his thigh, stroking him instead with a slow, deliberate touch, her palm warm and slick, her grip firm. “Think of it as… a rather intensive course in raising the dead.”

The absurdity of it hits her right as she says it—her last attempt at an erotic pun officially surpassed—and she breaks, a snort escaping as she buries her face against his leg, her shoulders shaking with laughter.

But then she feels his hands shift, pulling her up by her arms, and she yelps, startled, before giggling as he hauls her up, settling her right back on top of him.

“That’s quite enough of that,” Emmrich whispers.

As he catches his breath, she wipes her mouth, grinning at him with all the smug satisfaction of someone who’s just completely dismantled a man who prides himself on his restraint. She feels his fingers on her chin as he angles her face back towards his so he can kiss her and she's not shy, she tangles her tongue with his immediately, tasting as much of him as she can reach, even tracing the edge of one canine before retreating for breath.

“Think you could, I don’t know…” She waves a hand around aimlessly. “Necromance my pants away?”

He smiles, curling her hair around his fingers where it frames her face. “No, dear. I’m afraid that is not in my skill set.”

#my rook is a chaos goblin in case you haven't noticed #emmrich is emmrich idk what to say #emmrich volkarin #emmrich x rook #wip whenever #the fact that we don't get to make inappropriate necromancy jokes is a tragedy #emmrook

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venture-through-the-mist · 6 months ago

Text

Thoughts on The Lotus Eaters

As I’m sure is obvious, this will be discussing the Lotus Eaters quest in detail, so if you haven’t played it yet, I’d suggest skipping this post! I don’t want to spoil it for anyone (because even though it’s a short quest, I still think it benefits from being played with no prior knowledge of what it entails), so the full post will be below the cut.

Alright, I have SO many thoughts, so I’m going to try and keep this somewhat concise…ish. This is mostly just a bunch of rambles, so I apologize for any grammatical errors or if it’s hard to understand. I just kinda…wrote what came to my mind.

First off,

The Music: I briefly mentioned this in another post, but holy shit the music for this update is amazing. I mean, we all knew it would be, Warframe has a tendency to put out absolutely awesome songs, but oh my god. We get two more versions of what is one of my favorite songs in the game. The loading screen version of ‘This is What You Are’ has to be, by far, one of my favorite things I’ve heard from this game. I love the feel to it, like a combination of ‘old’ Warframe with ‘new’, 1999-era Warframe. I’ve had it playing on repeat almost all day because it’s so good.

Now, for the version of ‘This is What You Are’ that we actually get during the quest, the one that Lotus is singing to herself. I, admittedly, didn’t pay too much attention to it when I was actually playing the quest, at least not beyond “omg Lotus is singing, that’s awesome” (I was just too excited about the actual quest lol). However, when I listened to it again, I was fascinated by the subtle differences in how this version sounds compared to the ‘normal’ version of the song, or even to the new version in the loading screen. The singing is a lot more staccato, and the notes don’t flow into each other in the ways they normally would. It’s almost as if Lotus is having to concentrate more on what comes next (at least, that’s my interpretation), which makes sense given that we know that she’s singing in order to drown out the Indifference’s voice. Her singing also sounds a little sad, or maybe just lonely, to me. Her mind is filled with the Indifference trying to influence her, and she’s taken it upon herself to be a barrier (or as she says it, a “distraction”) between It and the Tenno. She’s secluded herself (again), and her tone of voice seems to reflect that.

Also, after the quest, if you go and talk to Daughter/Kaelli in the Necralisk, ‘Party of Your Lifetime’ plays now, instead of whatever song was playing before. I just think that’s neat (and also brings in some interesting ideas for 1999…what did our Drifter do?).

Moving on…

The Story: I had absolutely zero idea where the story was going to go from this update, but I was a bit worried about how they’d go about locking us into playing as the Drifter for 1999, since — although I 1000% agree with why the Drifter is definitely going to be the one going back in time — I’m definitely someone who would rather play as my Operator for my own lore reasons (and I can’t think of a reason that my Operator would let the Drifter do this instead of her). I was actually wondering if they’d actually lock us into the Drifter without giving us a choice, or if they just wouldn’t give us the option to do the romance stuff if we chose Operator (for obvious reasons…bc yk, they’re a child). But, I really enjoy the route they went down, how Lotus knows that the Drifter has to be the one this time, because if the Operator does, that might just be giving the Indifference exactly what it wants. She’s, once again, protecting her kids in the way she knows how, by taking them out of the conflict in any way she can.

But, I’m getting a bit ahead of myself, so let’s backtrack a bit and talk about how cool it is that we see the Operator and the Drifter interacting with Lotus at the same time. I may have missed something in the quests leading up to that, or this might just be something attributed to the Man in the Wall’s hijinks, or…something, but I thought that they couldn’t be in the same place at the same time/in the same ‘reality’. So, I was quite surprised (pleasantly, ofc) to see both of them. I really love the difference in the dialogue options when we initially talk to Lotus. The Operator is torn between wondering if Lotus is alright, and also being super worried about what the hell the noise is, in a way that makes me think they definitely suspect that the Indifference is meddling with things again (which makes sense, given that they’re actively in the Sanctum). Honestly, the Operator was probably waiting for something like this to happen. They know, or at least suspect, that Lotus saw the Man in the Wall after the battle with Ballas, it was only a matter of time before that became important. The Drifter, on the other hand, is more concerned with Lotus herself, warning her to be careful, reassuring her, but also wondering what she means by “It’s you”. Maybe the Drifter doesn’t really know the extent of the effects that the Indifference has on the System, maybe the Operator is just trying to protect Lotus in the only way they know how…get the perceived danger away from her first, ask questions later (I’ve noticed from their dialogue throughout the game that the Operator tends to have a bit of a sharper temper than the Drifter does…perhaps bc they’re younger). Either way, it’s nice that they have different responses to seeing Lotus and hearing the noise.

I chose the “Are you okay” and “What do you mean, ‘it’s you’?” dialogue options, and I absolutely loved that my Operator’s line was “This isn’t just a bad memory, it is? This is new”. This acknowledges, at least in my interpretation, that Lotus does have lingering emotions from everything that’s happened in the past (Ballas/The New War, Hunhow, etc). Once again, Warframe surprises me by remembering to make the trauma that a character has gone through actually relevant to the story even after we’ve dealt with the source of the problem. I probably shouldn’t be surprised at this, but most video games I’ve seen don’t tend to do that. Usually characters are…somewhat fine after experiencing something horrific, so it’s refreshing to see a different (more realistic, imo) take on it. This isn’t even the only time we see this in this quest/afterwards. Lotus outright confirms it herself (“I will not let it devour one instant of my pain. Not even Ballas. Not even the Jade Light.”), and in doing so, is also showing us how she’s dealt with the events of the prior storylines. She’s gone through a series of extremely traumatic events, and she still has those painful memories, but she’s not going to succumb to the Indifference, even if It promises to take that away. She’s been hurt, yes, but she is healing, and she’s finally in a place where she can actually do so as herself. That doesn’t mean it’s easy for her to ignore the voice that’s calling to her —the voice that only she can hear— but she’s determined to. I’m curious if the voice-lines after the quest are different if a player had chosen Margulis or Natah instead of Lotus after the New War, though.

I find it very interesting that Lotus calls the Drifter ‘my champion’. I just really enjoy the fact that she definitively sees the Operator and the Drifter as two separate people, as opposed to ‘her child’, and ‘her child but older’, because I feel like that fact could have certainly been a cause of a bit of discomfort and a learning curve for both her and the Drifter after the New War.

Now, onto the 1999 portion of the quest, which, even as short as it was, was quite interesting. It was really weird to be in the Mall again and not hear ‘Party of Your Lifetime’ playing or see other Tenno dancing around the stage (like how it was during TennoCon). It was quite eery, and I love it. Also, we got to see Kalymos again, so that’s a plus.

All in all, this quest answered a lot of my questions about how the game is going to transition to 1999 (and even answered questions that I didn’t know I had). However, I am slightly (read: very) concerned at the same time, mainly because of the line with Lotus saying “If I become something you do not recognize, do not mourn”. I feel like that’s potentially foreshadowing something…They don’t usually put lines like that in without reason. Maybe I’m just reading too far into that…but I suppose we’ll see when 1999 comes out.

Anywho, another thing that I wasn’t expecting but am really glad that we got was the continued acknowledgement of Lotus/Natah/Margulis being a system. This happened not once, but twice (to my knowledge), and I think it’s really great that they didn’t just disregard the whole “I am not one” thing from The New War after we made our choice between the three of them. It’s really nice to see that that wasn’t just a one-off line, especially as we continue to get more and more moments where the game references them.

This is already way longer than it probably should be, but what can I say? I like well-written characters, and this game has so many of them. I’ve definitely forgotten some things that I’d wanted to put in this post, but ah well.

#warframe #warframe spoilers #warframe the lotus eaters

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realhotgirlshitah · 2 months ago

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https://www.tumblr.com/realhotgirlshitah/770698535437041664/also-listen-listen-his-ex-gf-like-with-all-her

NOW THATS WHAT GETS ME- I feel like BECAUSE of his ex gf, he’s been more like “guys go vote!” “Vote blue!” Like does he acc care or is this to like restate his image???? Idk Jack’s just weird bro. Him having weird gfs T-W-I-C-E. Like if it was a mistake the first time, then ya did it again pal! 😭 ALSO, I had no idea Josh’s wife was a trumpie, that feels like it reinstates Jack”s “vote blue” shit is just performative…like if he broke up with Haley bc she was a trump supporter, and still like acted all liberal, but still fw Josh and his wife, then ain’t it really all just performative??? And people are really arguing and being like “hey Jack isn’t a homewrecker bc there’s no home to wreck! ain’t wasn’t a marriage” SHUT UP BRO 😭 IF A GIRL WAS TRYNA GET WITH HIM WHILE HE WAS IN A RELATIONSHIP YALL WOULD DRAG HER UP AND DOWN THE CURB.

Another thing I will say is that I don’t think that him being liberal is super performative considering the fact that his mother has always openly been a leftist who advocates for women’s, lgbt and poc rights! She also has taken Jack to a bunch of rallies and educated him on these topics which he has been open about way before haley as well which is super important to note.

HOWEVER… I do believe that the people you surround yourselves with is a good representation of what beliefs you hold which is what has me so split. Haley and Hayley, support shitty causes which wasn’t a good look for Jack but there’s also still people like his mother, Romeo and Willa that hold and represent very different beliefs.

Also Josh himself I do believe is a liberal but it’s just his wife that ms questionable. Very important to note that he’s quite high profile personal trainer in the industry who was hired to work with Jack since he was 14 so to me it makes sense why they haven’t been cut off or kicked to the curb. Contracts aside, Josh has been a big brother/father figure to him through an integral period of his life and career so that’s another thing I’m split on. It’s still fuck Josh for encouraging a relationship with Haley in the first place but overall it kind of makes it make more sense that Jack gravitated towards her so much

The whole thing with Inde is a whole mess though and weirds me out. If Jack homewrecked, that’s very odd of him and im huge believer in how you get someone is how you lose them when it comes to cheating so I guess we’ll see.

But the way a lot of his fans have approached this, is SUPER odd to me. I’ve seen the stuff of Duncanyes insta and though I see where they’re coming from, their content, commentary and stuff said by their moots puts me off. For them and a lot of other Jack stans, it’s way too parasocial and very unhealthy. I cannot stand when people believe that celebrities owe them something just because they’ve shown them support. I would definitely hate if I was in that situation and people spoke about me as if I owe them my entire career and obedience. Yes fans are the reason why celebrities are who they are but I genuinely believe that acknowledging and appreciating the support they’re given is enough. The issue is so many fans are stuck on the belief that they’re entitled to controlling their fave’s life and that they must upkeep that image of them they’ve created in their head. Trying to find the balance as a celeb must be exhausting especially at such a young age.

I think Jack is a good person and overall means well, he’s made a couple of mistakes but it’s so easy to make assumptions and it’s normal to feel a sense of disappointment. For me that’s why more than anything you’ll see me wrote content about his character, particularly Ethan, as opposed to him

That’s not to say I wont write any Jack content! That lil white boy is FOINE. But like i said, Im not one for feeding too much into parasocial relationships with real people and expecting complete perfection from them

Thanks for yapping with me though anon! I love you REAL BAD 😌😌❤️

#jack champion #jack #scream vi #ethan landry #ethan

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lesbianboyfriend · 8 months ago

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tell me about this btvs sexual violence thesis…..

okayyy i’ve been talking around this on my blog forever bc i haven’t had the mental capacity to make a coherent post about it but let me try now!!! i have some older posts that touch on some of these ideas too—i’ve linked a couple of them where relevant but honestly i could not find a bunch of them…but they are somewhere in my btvs lb tag. also note: i’m definitely still workshopping these ideas so id love to hear thoughts/rebuttals/expansions/whatever !!! it’s also all right now mostly working off my own thoughts/observations so i definitely want to do some research….i hope to one day write an actual essay about this

basically the summation of the buffyverse sexual violence thesis is that there is a narrative of sexual violence that is haunting the story. it goes pretty much unaddressed by the narrative at large, but it’s the crux of almost everything that happens.

i think there are two very obvious standout moments in btvs that highlight this sexual violence (the theory at large also encompasses angel but as i’m not entirely done watching it yet im gonna focus on buffy here, though i did touch on it briefly in a recent post about cordy’s death) which are the first slayer story and the spike attempted rape scene. going to talk about the first slayer first cause i think it’s kind of the framework for everything but important to note in terms of info that we get we + the characters aren’t aware of the first slayer story until after the rape scene.

imo the story of the first slayer is deeply deeply coded as a story of sexual violence. it’s about a woman being violated by a group of men who literally chain her down and force something into her. already, we’ve seen how being the slayer has isolated and harmed buffy, kendra, faith….its treated as almost a desirable, enviable position of honor (somewhat similar to how being a victim of sexual assault is sometimes painted as meaning the victim was “desirable”) but particularly once given this context, it’s hard to view being chosen as the slayer as anything but an act of violence against these women.

this is important to note because in a sense, it’s the slayer who upholds the moral binary of the buffyverse where good=soul, human and bad=no soul, demon. now this binary pretty much falls apart upon the slightest examination, because the story would not be as interesting if it was that simple. so there are multiple demon or otherwise characters who straddle this moral boundary—INCLUDING the slayer who not only straddles but enforces it. the outlier characters are presented as just that, outliers to this system, not indicators of its flaws. they are only good insofar as their goodness is directed towards maintaining the system. assimilation, not liberation.

okay, so, the spike rape scene. what’s notable about this scene is that it is, to my knowledge (?), the only moment of sexual violence that is explicitly named as an act of sexual violence. even in angel, which i feel has more overt moments of sexual violence, it’s not actually usually named as such. but what happens in this scene is explicitly named as a rape attempt. it is by far the most significant moment of sexual violence in btvs. so what exactly is going on with this scene?

now, there’s a lot that could be said and discussed about like, spike as a character, his motivations, etc (currently cooking up some thoughts about this myself), but for the purpose of this analysis i want to look strictly at what role spike is playing narratively in season 6. so, looking at this on a doylist level but NOT to be conflated with me excusing his actions on a watsonian level. anyways if we think about it season six is kind of a rejection of the larger moral order previously presented by btvs…i’ve talked about this vis-à-vis the demon/human evil/good binary and how season 6 really troubles those binaries. a lot of the season is about buffy grappling with these notions that perhaps her moral worldview is not correct—which leads to her spike. she’s previously made allowances for spike in this worldview, so she uses him as a sort of vehicle for exploring alternate theories. unlike the other demons we’ve seen allowances made for, spike is not “good” in the sense that btvs posits goodness for demons. he has done “good” things and he can’t hurt humans, but he is pretty explicitly still doing a lot of evil stuff. so spike gets to exist in the greyest area of any btvs character—his chip troubles the binary of who is and is not good/evil, not to mention who is morally killable under this worldview.

through her relationship with spike, buffy joins him there in that grey area. HER humanity (goodness) is questioned, which is not something that’s previously been up for serious debate. i talked before about how the slayer inherently straddles that binary, but as i said, both the characters and the viewers aren’t aware of that at this point. all of a sudden, there’s a total moral upheaval that creates lots of conflict….and this rejection of the prior moral order and exploration of what lies beyond it is what makes season 6 so compelling.

BUT season 6 isn’t the last season. and as we all know, season 7 kind of sucked!!! and went seriously hard on reifying that good/evil binary. so how did we get that wild shift between seasons? the rape scene.

as we know, “real evil” is only done by demons despite the countless terrible things we’ve seen human characters do. when spike tries to rape buffy, it cements him firmly back into the realm of monstrosity. violence, evil, whatever, they’re all signifiers of a monstrosity that removes the character of their humanity. we see this argument time and time again irl when people argue that people who do bad things are no longer human, thus rejecting the idea that they themselves are also capable of those bad things. this is why it’s so important that this moment is named as rape, as sexual violence, unlike the other instances. with the attempted rape, spike is ousted out of his grey area, back into “evilness”. buffy, as his victim this time, necessarily returns to the opposite side of the binary as him. buffy stops fighting against her role as slayer—she stops questioning the veracity of the system. in fact, she goes on to expand it, violating even more women in the name of “good.” spike realizes he has to conform to this moral order in order to “have” buffy (much to be said about that another time lollll) and regains a soul, the necessary signifier of his “goodness” and willingness to support the system he once troubled so severely. thus, the moral order is restored through an act of sexual violence, highlighting exactly how it predicated on the very sexual violence it claims to abhor.

some loose notes on other working parts of the thesis:

-general historical connection of vampire stories to sexuality (carmilla, dracula, etc)

-vampirism as sexual predation (penetration, vampires picking victims by seducing women at clubs)

-mystical pregnancy (in angel especially: cordelia, cordelia again, darla, cordelia…..) as a violation in and of itself and also a vehicle towards death

-angel and buffy in general. him being attracted to her since she was. 14

-sex with buffy returning angel to evil? not sure exactly how this would fit in yet but. there’s something there

-spike’s entire attitude for women

-xander’s whole deal

-as a matter of fact the way that pretty much every male character is misogynist

-episodes ted and billy (angel) -> presenting violence against women as stemming from an inherent monstrosity (billy somewhat contradicting this? but also reifying it. it’s left unclear tbh)

-darla in angel season 2 as a parallel to buffy in season 6…need to think more on this one as well

-dana….

#this took. much longer than i anticipated to type. but i would love to hear thoughts!!!!#jules.txt #btvs #btvs svt #btvs lb #asks #sa tw

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supercorpkid · 6 months ago

Note

I was going to send this as an ask too bc tumblr screwed me and put my reblog as a draft but then I saw the new pics of Katie McGrath, got distracted and forgot about it until now lol

Anyways

So, ok, I need to ask (and you can say no, no problem at all) but ever since I read The Other Kryptonian I can’t stop thinking about how I just can’t fucking choose between Kara and Lena!!! You wrote it so fucking well that I can’t choose one and see the other sad. So, could you do an alternative ending where reader end up with both?

I even have this headcanon (I have a bunch of them for this story tbh) where she says she now has two hearts (bc of the device Lena made for her) and they belong to two people, so she can’t choose.

I actually have the whole thing in my mind but idk if you’d like to read it all

But as an added bonus: I also see Lena and Kara falling in love for each other and reader kinda seeing this happen but not wanting to interfere and let them do it in their own pace

The Other Kryptonian - alternative ending.

Ending with both Kara and Lena :)

Word Count: 3215.

Notes: damn it was fun revisiting this story. Hope you enjoy this!

part 1, part 2, part 3

They are all so nice. All of their friends are nice and genuinely good. It makes your guilt sit heavier on your stomach because they are heroes saving the world from people like you. Your heart is also heavy, you don’t think you can tell them many of the awful things you’ve done.

After a while talking with all of them, you spot Lena coming out of the elevator. You don’t know exactly what your face says, but Lena can read it perfectly when she comes closer and holds your free hand -the one Kara isn’t still holding.

“I’m glad you all got a chance to meet Y/N, but I think it’s time for her to rest.” Lena blinks at you, etched with support. You nod, suddenly feeling that you should rest for sure.

“You know, I was about to say that.” Alex adds, her hand makes way to your shoulder, and she squeezes lightly. “Go rest, we’ll be here when you wake up.”

Kara looks at you, query in her eyes. “You ok? I can fly you home so you can rest better.”

“Oh.”

Home.

That’s a word you haven’t said in a while. Where would that be? The room Lex used to keep you in? Your old house in Midvale? The ship? Krypton?

“I think Kara meant her home.” Lena explains when she sees how confused you are. “But maybe you should come with me.”

It’s almost unnoticeable, but at that Kara holds your hand a little bit tighter. And Lena’s heart beats a little bit faster.

“No. I mean, what if Lex comes back for her? I have to protect her.”

“Well, she can protect herself, she is also Kryptonian. Besides, I should be around to see if the second heart is working properly.”

Alex, hearing that, takes one little step backwards, aware of something you are not. Everyone else that was watching the interaction, looked somewhere else and engaged in meaningless conversations. You look down on your hands, intertwined with both women, feeling incapable of letting go of any of them.

“If the heart stops working, I’ll fly her back here in a blink of an eye.”

“Sure, and if Lex comes back for her I’ll use the watch and you’ll be there in a blink as well, won’t you?” Lena pulls your hand slowly. “Besides, I have extra space. Your apartment would be kind of cramped. She needs to actually rest; she won’t be able to do that on your couch.”

“My couch is very comfortable.” Kara speaks out of greeted teeth. “And she would obviously sleep in the bed with me. We’ve done that many times before, right Y/N?”

You’re not sure it’s a real question when Kara gives Lena a wry smile. Everyone else in the room is clearly trying to hide their discomfort at the situation, but all breathes are stuck in their lungs after the question, and you can feel the tension wrapping around your throat as your breath also gets stuck in your lungs.

“Oh.” And all of sudden all eyes are on you. “Maybe I should stay on the med bay?” You plead at Alex with your eyes, and she agrees promptly.

“Yes! I have yet to clear her permanently.” Alex comes back closer, hands on your shoulders. “Well, come on. A little bit more of the yellow sunlight won’t hurt.”

Both let go of your hand, unable to argue with that logic. Alex helps you back into the med bay, turning the yellow lights back on.

“You know,” She starts, giving you another pillow so you can get more comfortable. If only she knew this is the most comfortable you’ve been in years. “It’s a hard choice, but one you’ll have to make.” Alex taps on your hand lightly. “I can’t hide you out here forever.”

You let out a smile at that, and she smiles back at you.

“Hey,” You call her a moment before she leaves the room. “Thank you. Lena told me you’ve helped, and I know you did the surgery too. I know I’m a wanted criminal…” You choke on your words after that. It’s true, but still not easy to admit it out loud.

Alex assures you. “It was all Lex. I can tell the difference.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t really like me before that either.” You force a smile out.

“Water under the bridge.”

And just like that, all of those times you thought about Alex and why she hated you faded away.

It’s funny, having dreams. You were never once for having different dreams every night. But this time there was no falling from the sky. No yelling for you to run and protect yourself. No begging for your safety whatsoever.

It was only blue and green. Blue sky. Green grass. Blue ocean. Green trees. Blue eyes. Green eyes. Love and love.

It’s a hard choice, but one you’ll have to make.

It's a decision between secrets, deep understanding, familiar touches, hearts that play the same symphony, and love. It’s about going back to what is known. To what was supposed to happen all along. It’s choosing blue.

It’s a decision between blunt honesty, desperate trust, touch-starved skins, strong holds on hearts, and love. It’s about taking the leap. It’s about closing the distance your body has been protesting all along. It’s choosing green.

A hard choice, indeed.

--------------- different ending starts here ---------------

You wake up to the warmth of the artificial sun on your skin. You haven't felt this good in—well, maybe ever. Now, you're free to use your powers as you wish, not at the command of others. And best of all, beside you are the two women you’ve loved most in your life.

"Baby," you hear, the voice as familiar as your own heartbeat. You open your eyes, hardly daring to believe they aren’t playing tricks on you. But there she is—Kara Danvers, standing in front of you with a hot plate of waffles, just like she used to when you were both teenagers. And right beside her is Lena Luthor, her eyes bright as she hands you a steaming mug of coffee. You think this might be the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen.

"Can we talk to you for a little bit?" Lena asks gently.

You nod, a bit wary of revisiting the uncomfortable situation from last night. Kara places the plate on the bed, and you start eating before either of them can say another word. It’s been ten long years since you last had waffles, and you’d forgotten just how good they taste. Your mouth is full when Lena begins again.

"We talked about what happened last night." Lena pulls a chair over and sits down in front of you. Kara turns off the sunlight simulator, then joins her, sitting down in front of you.

"We don’t want that to ever happen again," Kara says, reaching for your hand. "We made you uncomfortable, and everyone around us." She takes a deep breath, clearly holding back tears. "It’s obvious that we both have feelings for you. You were the only person I’ve ever loved like this. I tried to have other relationships, but no one understands me like you. No one ever will."

"I know," you whisper, biting your lip to keep the tears at bay. "I feel the same."

"And I would give anything to have you by my side again. It would be—Rao, baby, it would be everything. We’d fly around the world, helping people like we always dreamed. And you’d finally get to explore Earth’s history. There are so many things I want you to see."

You squeeze her hand tighter. "Why are you saying this like it can’t happen?"

"It could. But I'm not going to make you choose me. I want you to be happy, and if happy is Lena, then — then I want that for you."

"And I want the same." Lena says reaching for your free hand. "I want you to have it all. You’re here, and you’re safe. And I finally have you next to me and darling, I’ll do everything I can to give back all that Lex stole from you." Lena smiles at you and you can no longer hold the tears back. "If you want to be with Kara, I'll support you no matter how I feel. I’m not going to hold you back from happiness"

"I—" There's a tennis size ball on your throat and you can't even swallow. "I can't decide. I love both of you. And I — I need the two of you equally. I've gone so long alone. I don't want that anymore."

Kara's arms are the first you feel around you, but Lena is quick to hold you too.

"You are never going to be alone again, darling. We are all here for you."

The embrace feels like home, a place you never thought you'd find again. The warmth of Lena's arms, the steady comfort of Kara's presence—these are the things you've missed for so long. The weight of years of loneliness and fear melts away in their hold.

When you finally pull back, you see the tears in their eyes mirror your own. Kara's smile is soft, and Lena’s touch on your cheek is gentle, grounding you in this moment.

“I don’t know how this will work, or if it will at all.” you admit, voice trembling. “But I don’t want to lose either of you. I can’t.”

Kara nods, squeezing your hand. “We’ll figure it out together," she says, extending her hand to Lena. In a moment, they’re holding hands too. "All of us.”

For the first time in what feels like forever, you allow yourself to hope. Maybe this can work. Maybe you don’t have to choose. Maybe love doesn’t have to be divided like it has been all your life. Maybe the three of you can find a way to share it.

The tension that once filled the room dissipates, replaced by a sense of peace. You take a deep breath, feeling lighter than you have in years.

Lena looks at you, her eyes full of warmth. “You don’t have to rush anything, darling. We have time now. We'll figure out how to make this work for the three of us.”

Kara nods in agreement. “Yeah, there’s no need to decide everything right now. Let’s just take it one step at a time.”

You smile at both of them, feeling a sense of relief. “I’d like that.”

Kara's eyes smile, as well as the rest of her face, and she comes closer to kiss your forehead. You close your eyes to it, can't help but to. It's been years since your touch-starved skin has received any love, any proof that you are deserving of more than suffering. You can’t help the way your heart swirls with joy at this small gesture.

It's almost too long to be considered innocent. And before you even open your eyes, you feel another pair of lips, and you can't believe how well you know the difference, kissing your temple.

"I was never not thinking about you." Lena whispers in your ear, and a smile tugs at your lips, unbidden but welcome.

"I've missed you everyday since the last time I saw you." Kara whispers in your other ear, and you feel another kiss being planted on your cheek.

And another on the other cheek. And another on the tip of your nose. Eye. Chin. Every inch of your face is showered with love and devotion, and your heart, Rao! Your heart has been beating so fast and hard, you're scared of failing you.

"We'd do anything for you." You're not sure who said that, or at least who started the sentence, but you know that by the end of it, both voices had mingled and it was your favorite sound.

You slowly open your eyes, when you don't feel any kisses on your face for a few seconds. Kara and Lena are still so close, you can feel that you are all sharing the same breath. Eyes so close, blue and green are about to become one. Or even better, yours.

"Please," You reach for their faces, each palm on one of their cheeks. "Please," You beg again. You beg with your mouth, and with your eyes. Your love begs in silence and preaches in scream.

"Anything you want."

Lena's lips touch yours for a brief second before they are replaced by Kara's and oh Rao, if only you knew all along this would be your future. If only you knew it was not a choice, but a balance. Not division, but unity. If only you knew you'd get what you've been searching for all your life.

"Lena," You blink at her and you can read her eyes perfectly as if you never once stopped seeing them, "I — I love you. It's you and all the things you do. You're all that I would think about."

She blinks too, starry-eyed and understanding. Face etched with love and desire. So, before you even ask her permission for it, she leans in, her lips meeting yours, her breath mingling with yours. This—this feels sacred, like something holy. And who else would hold you if not her?

It's perfect, incredible, but there is an itch on your throat, there's something more to be said. There's someone else to be touched and felt and loved. And Lena knows it too, for when she separates your lips, she gives you a nod and space so you can tell Kara what you need.

"Kara," You hold her face close to yours so you can whisper in her mouth, "Shovuhodh khuhp w rraop ehm tiv ewuhshehd im tiv aorghuhs uldifirstunia chao ukep."

Kara's eyes are full of tears because she remembers your mom teaching both of you a few sentences in Kryptonian and this is one you'd always say while looking deep inside Kara's eyes. I love you to the end of the ever-expanding universe and back.

And as an answer, she holds your face closer and kisses you like she would all those years ago. Hearts synchronizing playing the known symphony. Souls bleeding so. And who's gonna know you if not her?

This happens once every few lifetimes. You're sure. Who else can tell that they found love in two beautiful souls? In two people who care about you so deeply, they're willing to share and come together and overflow.

When you look at their faces again, you're sure. The three of you will be able to make this work. The certainty is bone-deep within you.

But your life has never been just about good things. In fact, it rarely was. Even as your heart swells with love, threatening to burst from your chest, a voice slices through the warmth, pulling you back to a darker reality. And in a heartbeat, you find yourself thrust to the opposite end of the emotional spectrum.

“You all have something that belongs to me,” Lex’s voice cuts through the air, icy and cruel. Panic surges through your body, locking the breath in your lungs as your eyes widen in fear.

“Stay here,” Kara instructs, rising to her feet immediately. But Lena senses the shift in the atmosphere and follows her instinct, standing up as well. You’re left behind in the med bay, though you can see and hear everything unfold with alarming clarity.

“I’m sorry, sis," Lex sneers. "But I won’t share my pet with you. I thought I made that perfectly clear. Now hand it back, or suffer the consequences.”

A kryptonite gun gleams menacingly in his hand, and it’s pointed straight at Kara’s head. No. No. You will not let this happen. Lex will not hurt anyone else because of you, nor will he use you as a weapon against the people you love. Without a second thought, you speed into the room, positioning yourself in front of Kara and Lena, shielding them from the man who’s tormented you for so long.

“Lex,” you say, your voice steady despite the storm raging within.

“Oh, there she is. Come on, alien," he taunts, brandishing a remote control in front of you. But you hold your ground, eyes fixed on his face.

“You can’t hurt me," you declare with quiet resolve.

Lex scoffs, then presses the button meant to flood your body with kryptonite. But nothing happens. His face contorts in disbelief, fury simmering beneath the surface. He doesn't wear his frustration for long, though, as he snarls through clenched teeth, “I can always hurt you.”

You glance back at Kara and Lena, and in that moment, you know his threat is hollow. No matter what Lex does, no matter how much kryptonite he throws at you or how far his malice reaches, these two women would lay down their lives for you—just as you would for them.

“Are you sure you want to do that?” you warn, gesturing to those standing around you. “You’ve managed to piss off two Kryptonians, one Martian, one Coluan, one human-Naltorian, one badass agent, and your genius sister. Do you really think that a kryptonite gun will save you now that you’ve run out of people to fight your battles for you?”

It’s not the victory you’ve fantasized about for years, nor the vengeance you once craved. It doesn’t come close to the justice he deserves for all the horrors he’s unleashed. But to watch Lex Luthor stand down, to see the realization dawn on him that he no longer holds any power over you feels more liberating than anything you could have imagined.

“Don’t come near us again,” you say, your voice filled with the steel of conviction. “You know the terrible things I’ve done for you, and what I’m capable of doing to you now.” It’s an empty threat, but he doesn’t know that.

“Aliens,” he spits, disgusted, before opening a portal and vanishing from the Tower.

Lena's house is huge, but lacks character. Kara is happy to change that by moving things from her flat. Slowly, the space begins to fill with her colorful additions—bright pillows, whimsical lamps, and blue throw blankets that add a pop of warmth to the cool, neutral tones.

Lena’s massive bed, once so wide and cold, feels smaller now. Cozier. Especially with you sandwiched between the two of them, pillows surrounding you like a fortress.

Routine comes easily. What started as one-on-one moments with each of them gradually blossoms into a shared rhythm, a natural flow in which all three of you find comfort, passion, and peace in each other’s arms. Their love for you is steadfast, unwavering, and it only deepens with time. Just as your love for them grows stronger, you also witness the quiet affection they nurture for each other getting less hinted and more obvious. You’re grateful that you get to see it unfold, to experience it up close.

It turns out, you do have a home. It may have taken you long to figure it out, but now you know. Home, for you, is not a place—it’s the people who complete you. Kara is your Krypton—your origin, your understanding, your soulmate. Lena is your Earth—your deep-rooted connection, your forged and enduring love.

And together, it feels just like home.

#supergirl #kara danvers #lena luthor #kara x reader #lena x reader #reader insert #supergirl fanfiction #alex danvers #supergirl imagine #kara x lena x reader

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