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daryltwdixon · 2 months ago

Text

Daryl x Reader

season 1 Daryl

MDNI: smut

inspo: @heathermason6060's inexperienced Daryl & this ao3 story

notes: I barely proofread this after my first reread sorry

Ever since you’d joined the group—a girl they found out in Atlanta around the same time they brought Rick back—you didn’t fully fit in with anyone. People never really knew how to talk to you, and every conversation anyone overheard was always short and clipped. Maybe you were shy, or maybe still getting over something lost when the world turned upside down. But Daryl watched you—always watching, weirdly drawn to you in a way that he couldn’t figure out.

That feeling, whatever it was, twisted his stomach every time he got close. He didn’t know what it was, only that he wanted to be near you, wanted to catch even the smallest glance or word. Hell, he didn’t even need to be close; the thought of you was enough to send his stomach into knots.

After a while, he even started to wonder what it’d be like to talk to you beyond the short words you’d exchanged about ammo or food or anything survival-related. He thought about what the hell he’d even say, what you might like to talk about, but every time he tried to picture it, he went blank. His older brother wasn’t exactly the type to teach him how to talk to women; Merle had his own ways that usually ended up with people pissed off or storming off, and Daryl wasn’t about to mess this up by being like that. He’d be careful. Real careful.

One night, the fire is burning low, and everyone else has already drifted to their tents. Daryl sits by the embers, debating whether he should finally head back to his tent now that he’s alone—just him and the dying fire. It feels odd not having Merle around to tell him where to be and when. He has to figure out what he actually wants to do instead of just being in the man’s shadow. Just as he’s about to call it a night, you appear from your tent, looking restless and rubbing at your eyes. When you notice him sitting alone, you pause, then make your way over to him and sit down—not across from him but, to his horror and excitement, right beside him on the log. His stomach lurches, something strange twisting as he glances at the way the moonlight catches the curve of your thigh, making him wonder—just for a second—what your skin might feel like beneath his fingers.

You sigh beside him. “Can’t sleep,” you mutter, groaning a little as you rub the heels of your hands into your eyes. When you drop them, you give him a tired, curious look. “What’re you still doin’ out here?”

Daryl swallows, caught off guard. You’ve never really talked to him directly before, and he peels his eyes away from your thigh, feeling his cheeks burn a little when he realizes you’ve caught him staring. He shrugs, muttering something about ‘keeping watch’ under his breath.

You just nod, and he figures the conversation is over. But then, you pull a near-empty pack of cigarettes from your back pocket and slip one between your lips, flashing a faint smile to yourself.

“Look what I found today,” you say casually, shaking the box, sparking his interest as you glance at him. “Still got that lighter?” You nod toward his jeans, and his hand shoots to his pocket, rubbing his clammy fingers against the fabric before pulling out his Zippo. He holds it up, flicking the fire to life, watching your lips purse as you pull the smoke from the cigarette into your mouth, igniting the small stick. He catches the faintest scent of you, something clean—crisp apples, maybe from the soap found on the run today—despite the dirt and sweat of this life. His hand shakes slightly as the flame catches, and the tip of your cigarette glows bright.

You pull back, taking a long drag and exhaling softly through your nose. “Thanks,” you say, the word quiet, almost lazy, savoring the feeling. You hold the pack out to him, and he hesitates for a second before taking one, avoiding the brush of your fingers.

He slips the cigarette between his lips and flicks the lighter again, but this time the spark sputters out before a flame can catch. He flicks it a few more times, his hand trembling harder now under your quiet gaze. “Shit,” he mutters under his breath, trying again. Nothing.

“Here,” you say, your voice calm but amused as you gesture for him to lean in. “Hold still.”

Daryl freezes, the cigarette twitching slightly between his lips as he says, “What’re ya—”

“I won’t bite, Daryl,” you tease gently, cutting him off with a faint smirk. The way you say his name, soft and easy, sends a jolt through him, like you’ve said something far more intimate. His knees would probably buckle if he were standing, but he stays rooted to the spot, barely breathing as you scoot closer.

You bring your lit cigarette up to his, the glowing tip inches from his mouth. He leans in stiffly, his lips fidgeting as he tries to hold still, but his hands won’t stop trembling, and the two cigarettes don’t quite line up. You huff a soft laugh, shaking your head slightly.

“Hold on,” you murmur, and before he can say anything, your free hand comes up to steady his chin. His breath catches as your fingers brush against the stubble on his jaw, tilting his face just enough to keep him from moving any more. Your touch is light, careful, but it’s enough to make him go completely still, his heart hammering in his chest.

As he pulls the cigarette to life, your eyes catch his, and suddenly your hand feels like it’s on fire. You wrench it away as quickly as you can, your body leaning back with it. His gaze, still fixed on you, is wide and unguarded, staring at you like he’s seeing you for the first time. The embers of your cigarettes glow softly between you in the dark night air, catching in his wild blue irises, and for a moment, the world feels far too still.

You clear your throat, exhaling a stream of smoke. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to make you feel…” You trail off, uncertain of the right word. Uncomfortable? Creeped out?

Daryl doesn’t move. He keeps staring at you, the cigarette held tightly between his lips, as if he’s stunned. Then, he pulls in another breath, his mouth opening slightly, like he wants to say something, but nothing comes out. You catch the faintest flush rising along his neck, and you feel yourself brighten under his gaze as well.

“It’s fine,” he finally mutters, his voice rough and low, though now he’s avoiding your eyes, not quite meeting your gaze. He fumbles with the cigarette, taking another drag just to give himself something to do.

The tension between you lingers, the fire starting to die softly in the background, but neither of you speaks again. You lean back, pretending to focus on the stars, while he shifts uncomfortably beside you, his eyes darting between the fire and your profile.

Somewhere in the quiet, he exhales slowly, the smoke curling lazily in the moonlight, and though he doesn’t say it out loud, he knows he’s never going to forget the feeling of your fingers on his skin—or the way you’ve looked at him like he isn’t just another face in the group.

Daryl’s knee bounces restlessly as he tries to keep his eyes fixed on the embers of the fire in front of him. It’s too damn hard to focus with you sitting so close, your scent mingling with the smoke and pine in a way that makes his head spin. He doesn’t get why it’s so hard to sit still around you; he’s usually good at disappearing into the background, staying quiet. But with you here, just inches away, he feels like he has a spotlight on him.

“You’re quiet,” you say, your voice jolting him from his thoughts. “What’s on your mind, Dixon?”

His head jerks slightly at the sound of his name, and his lips twitch like he’s trying to come up with an answer. “Nothin’,” he mutters, glancing away quickly. “Just… thinkin’, I guess.”

You arch an eyebrow, leaning back slightly against the log. “Thinkin’ about what?”

He knows he should say something to brush you off, but his mind goes blank. The way you’re looking at him, like you’re waiting for him to crack—it makes him feel trapped and exposed all at once. Heat creeps up his neck even hotter, and he curses himself for it.

“Am I making you nervous, Daryl?” you tease, your voice soft but playful, and he hears the smirk in your tone.

He opens his mouth, then shuts it, looking down at his nails as if they might offer some kind of answer. “I just…” He pauses, breathing in sharply. “Ya make it hard to think straight.”

The words come out rough, almost like a confession he hadn’t meant to say out loud, and he feels his whole body tense, waiting for you to laugh, to pull away. But you don’t. Instead, you sit up, and he catches a faint smile on your lips.

“Yeah?” Your arms graze against each other as you lean forward, and he sucks in a sharp breath, trying to keep from shivering at the touch. “And why’s that?”

He clenches his jaw, his fingers twitching against his knee, and he’s got half a mind to just stand up and walk away, leave you here with your questions. But the other half of him is rooted in place, feeling like if he gets up and leaves, he’ll never get this chance again.

He doesn’t say anything, just shrugs and continues staring at you, his gaze flickering down to your lips for a fraction of a second before he catches himself and looks away. But in that brief glance, something shifts, and you suddenly realize…Daryl’s actually kinda… beautiful, and maybe it just took you being this close up to realize it fully. It wasn’t the obvious kind of beauty that shouts for attention—it was quieter, layered in ways that drew you in the longer you looked. The roughness of his features, the sharp angles of his jaw, and the slightly crooked bridge of his nose that was imperfectly charming. His eyes, a deep, piercing blue even in the low light, carried a depth, like he could unravel you with just one glance if he let himself.

And then there were the softer details—the curve of his lips, perpetually chapped from him always chewing them, but so inviting; the faint freckles scattered across his sun-kissed skin, like a map of every moment he’d spent under the open sky. There was a rugged cuteness in the way his hair fell across his forehead, messy and untamed, framing his face in a way that made you ache to reach out and brush it back. He was all contradictions—rough and tender, guarded and vulnerable—and somehow, that only made him more beautiful. He’s rough around the edges, sure, all grit and wary glances, but there’s something genuine about him that you haven’t seen in anyone else since the world fell apart.

Unlike the others, he’s the only one who doesn’t bristle when you’re a little short with him, the only one who just lets you be, never pushing too hard, never asking for anything. You’d caught him glancing at you more than once, his cheeks turning red as he quickly looked away, and it had left you wondering what it’d be like to close the space between you, to see if he’d keep up that quiet shyness even if you got a little closer. So far, it seems he would.

Before you feel yourself hesitate, you lean in and press your lips to his.

Whatever had come over you in that instant, Daryl has no idea. His mind reels at how you could possibly want this from him. People didn’t look at him like that. Hell, they barely looked at him at all unless they needed something. He isn’t the kind of man anyone leaned into, let alone kissed like this.

The kiss is soft, tentative, testing, but the moment your mouth meets his, it’s like something inside him snaps. He goes still, his breath catching, and for a second, you think he might run for the hills.

But instead, he kisses you back, a little clumsy, his lips pressing against yours like he’s not sure he’s doing it right. But you don’t pull away, don’t dare laugh, and slowly, he finds himself leaning into you, his hand rising to rest lightly on your leg, the touch electrifying your core. You make a soft noise against his lips, and it sends a shiver down his spine, his fingers tightening a bit where they’re touching you.

When he finally pulls back, his mind’s spinning, like he can’t quite wrap his head around what just happened. Your eyes meet his, and there’s this soft look on your face, like you’re amused and happy all at once.

“I… uh…” He stammers, his voice rough, and he feels his face burning.

“You maybe wanna mess around?” you ask, breathless, the words slipping out before you have time to second-guess yourself. There’s a growing need deep in your belly that you can’t ignore, a heat that’s been building ever since you noticed the way his eyes kept flicking to you, his gaze soft yet uncertain.

Daryl’s cuteness catches you off guard every time you look at him—especially now, with the moonlight casting shadows across his face, highlighting the angles of his jaw, the softness in his eyes, the way he almost looks like he doesn’t know he’s handsome.

His eyes go wide, and for a moment, he just stares at you, like he's not sure he heard you right. He is absolutely sure you can hear his heart pounding against his ribs, the blood pumping harder in his veins as his mind short circuits. His mouth opens, then shuts again, and he looks away, eyes on the ground as his brows furrow. He pulls the cigarette to his lips again, smoke sucking in between his teeth before he exhales sharply. He quickly looks back up to you, your eager, warm face still waiting for his response.

"Uh..." He clears his throat, the tips of his ears turning red. "You... you serious?"

You can't help but smile, the shyness in his voice only making him more endearing. "Only if you want to," you murmur, letting your fingers trail over his kneecap, feeling the way he tenses under your touch. "Could be fun. Don't have to overthink it."

Your body was practically begging him to jump your bones, but he doesn’t seem to realize that. Didn’t seem to know the signs of clear hunger and want and need. Your fingers brushing his leg itched to feel more, but you kept yourself still–careful with him.

Daryl swallows and lets out a shaky breath, his hand trembling slightly as it pushes his cigarette into the earth, snuffing it out and unsure of what to do next. His eyes dart up to yours, and there's a vulnerability there as he nods, unable to form the words.

He brings his one shaking hand up to cup your jaw, the rough pads of his hands sparking at the feeling of how soft your skin is. You smile again, leaning into his touch, gently closing the space between you while still letting him decide if he wants to continue on.

He does. God, he does. But as he looks at you, there's a flicker of hesitation as he feels the supple skin of your face under his touch, and he's afraid of what you might think if you knew the truth. That he's never had anyone like this before, never been this close, never had anyone look at him with such open want. The only thing he knows about sex is what he's seen in crude memories from Merle's old tapes, scenes filled with empty noises and rough images that look nothing like this.

Nothing like the way you're watching him, with warmth and softness, not a hint of demand.

He brushes his lips against yours, tentative, as if testing his limits. He's nervous, so unsure, but you lean in a little more, feeling his hand tremble as he holds you close, his fingers curling gently around the curve of your jaw. When you let your tongue push out to graze his top lip, he goes utterly still, a shuddering breath escaping him as his restraint crumbles. He deepens the kiss with a sudden hunger, his grip steadying, his hand anchoring you in place, and you’re not sure if it’s to keep you from pulling away or to keep him from running for the hills.

You feel his heart pounding under your hands as you bring them up to rest against his chest, the beat wild and frantic. You fist your hands into the thin fabric, trying in vain to pull him closer, even if you want to let him set the pace. His movements are unpracticed, but there's an intensity in the way he touches you, like he's pouring everything he doesn't know into this moment. You can't help but smile against his lips, his eager, clumsy attempts endearing in a way that only makes you want him more.

His hands shift, and you feel his fingers press against your waist, steadying himself as he moves closer. He's beautiful like this, his strong arms flexing with the movement, shadows tracing along his muscles under the moonlight, and the warmth of his touch sends a surge of heat pooling low in your belly.

The kiss grows more heated, messy, with tongues and teeth clashing as he grows bolder. It’s a little clumsy, but you don’t care. There’s something intoxicating about the way he’s so eager, so intent on exploring your mouth, every hesitant touch of his tongue making you melt further into him. A soft moan slips from your throat when his tongue slides against yours, the sound spilling out before you can stop it.

The noise seems to snag something in him. His breath hitches sharply, and he pulls back, his chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath. His forehead rests against yours, warmth radiating between you, and his breaths are hot against your lips, still so close you can feel the faint tremble in him.

When he finally looks at you, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze, the sight of him sends a shiver through you. His pupils are blown wide, dark and searching, his mouth slick with shared wetness, lips parted as if he’s about to say something but can’t find the words.

But it’s you who nearly undoes him. Your flushed cheeks, your lips wet and swollen, the half-lidded haze in your eyes—he almost busts right then and there, his previous semi now throbbing from your lips connecting with his. The realization hits him like a lightning strike: he made you look like this. He made you moan. And the thought that you’re enjoying this, maybe enjoying him just as much as he’s enjoying you, leaves his head spinning even more.

Your lips curve into a lazy, teasing smile as your hand finds the nape of his neck, fingers tugging gently at the short strands of his hair. “Let’s move to your tent, yeah?” you murmur, your voice soft but full of intention.

Daryl nods enthusiastically, and without hesitation, he jumps to his feet, his eagerness on full display. For a brief moment, you’re level with his lap, and your gaze flickers to the growing bulge beneath the zipper of his jeans. The sight makes your breath hitch, heat pooling low between your legs as you glance up at him, catching his gaze. He sees where your eyes went, and for the first time tonight, something unbidden sparks in his expression—an almost bold glint as he reaches down, taking your hand and pulling you up with surprising firmness.

You’re silently grateful for the distance Daryl and Merle always kept from the others, their tents off to the side, a little more secluded. You’d still need to be quiet, but at least there’d be no direct neighbors overhearing the sounds you were sure to make.

Inside his tent, the air feels warmer, heavier with anticipation. Daryl sits down quickly, his legs splayed in front of him, uncertainty flashing across his features. He looks at you like he’s bracing himself, his hands fidgeting at his sides, unsure of what comes next. The hesitation in his gaze makes you think this might…all be new to him. You can see the way his throat works as he swallows hard, the thought of what’s about to happen clearly overwhelming him.

You don’t let him overthink it. Your heart pounds as you climb into his lap, straddling him. The heat of his body, the hard line of him pressing against your core through his jeans—it all sends a jolt of need straight through you. Your hands fly to his shoulders for balance, and he groans softly at the friction, his fingers automatically finding your waist, gripping you tightly as if to keep you from pulling away.

The first slow roll of your hips makes his breath stutter, and when you rock against him again, the friction has you both gasping. He leans forward, capturing your lips in a messy, desperate kiss. His tongue is eager, pushing into your mouth like he’s trying to memorize the taste of you, the feel of you, and you let him, your hands threading into his hair. The pull of your fingers against his scalp makes him groan, the sound muffled against your lips as his hands tighten on your waist.

When you pull back, panting, you pause the sway of your hips just long enough to reach for the hem of your shirt. Daryl watches, wide-eyed, as you pull the fabric over your head and drop it to the side. His chest heaves as he stares at you, his gaze flicking between your face and your bare skin. Even though your bra is still on, it’s enough to make his brain stop working.

He doesn’t wait. His lips are on you immediately, pressing against the valley between your breasts, the space his hands haven’t dared to touch yet. His mouth is warm, tentative but eager, as he kisses along the curve of your ribs, moving wherever the fabric of your bra doesn’t block him. When his lips find the sensitive spot at the base of your neck, just where it meets your shoulder, you grind down against him, a soft moan slipping from your lips.

“Daryl,” you whimper, your voice barely above a breath. His lips pause, hovering against your skin as he murmurs against you.

“Yeah?” His voice is a rasp, raw and hoarse, like he’s barely holding himself together.

“Please take off your clothes,” you whisper, your words trembling. You pull back slightly, giving him space, and he nods fervently, his hands fumbling to strip himself. His shirt comes off first, revealing the toned, scarred planes of his chest, and then he pushes his jeans down just far enough to free his cock, his hand fisting around himself in relief.

Your eyes drop instinctively, and when you see him, your breath catches. He’s big—almost too much—and you can’t help the way your mouth falls open, the sight making heat bloom through your body. When you finally meet his gaze again, his eyes are locked on you, dark with unspoken hunger. He doesn’t look at your face, though. His attention is fixed lower, on your chest, where your hands are already reaching behind you to unhook your bra.

“C’mere,” you beckon, laying back as you pull the rest of your clothes off. He uses one hand to push your legs apart, to settle himself between your thighs, but as he brings your legs apart, the glistening of your pussy stops him in his tracks. He’s overwhelmed with the primal instinct to bury himself in you one way or another, and he falls in a lying position between your legs, his arms wrapping around your thighs to bring your core to his mouth, his hot breath on your clenching lips. You lean up, propping yourself on your elbows as you watch him. You thought he was beautiful before but this…this view was breathtaking.

His eyes find yours, and he can’t even stop the groan that escapes him when his tongue attaches to your pussy. You throw your head back, a sigh slipping from you as he tries a lot of different menuevers, flattening his tongue and dragging it up and down, flicking it against the hole that he so badly wants to feel inside, but when he simply purses his lips and sucks on the engorged nub at the top of your folds, that’s when you fall from your elbows, and your loudest moan rocking through you.

You can tell he’s more inexperienced than you expected, but it doesn’t matter to you, because once he got the hint, he went straight to exactly what you needed and craved. His lips were so surprisingly soft against you, his facial hair tickling the insides of your thighs as you clenched your legs around him. You rocked your hips into him, but you needed more. So much more.

You look back down at him then, your chest heaving as you bring your hand up to show him. "Please," you breathe, voice trembling with need. "Finger me–just like this." You curl a finger, then two, demonstrating the movement with a slow, deliberate ‘come-hither’ motion.

His blown-out blue eyes are locked on your hand, his breath catching before he brings his own between your legs. His fingers slip inside so easily, the hot wetness of your walls making him groan low in his throat. His cock twitches against the rough fabric of the tent underneath, but he doesn't touch himself—he's too focused on the way you react to him. When he adds another finger, curling them just as you showed him, your back arches violently, a ragged moan tearing from your throat. Your hand flies to his scalp, fingers digging into his hair, pulling as your hips buck against his mouth.

Daryl's groans grow louder, vibrating against you as his teeth graze your clit, sending shockwaves through your body. He doesn't hold back now-there's something primal in the way he devours you, the sounds he's making raw and desperate. His mouth works you relentlessly, tongue lapping and slurping at your slick heat, each growl reverberating through your core. He's losing himself in you, completely unguarded, no longer caring about keeping quiet or holding back.

The pressure building in your belly snaps all at once, and your vision floods with stars as the orgasm crashes through you. Your body locks into an arch, trembling as your jaw falls slack, a wordless cry spilling out of you. He doesn't stop, doesn't relent, even as you twitch and convulse beneath him. His mouth and fingers work you through your high, dragging every last wave of pleasure out of you until you're trembling from the overstimulation.

"O–okay, okay, okay," you gasp, your voice barely audible as you try to push him away, "you gotta stop, s’too much."

He slows his tongue, dragging his fingers out gently to settle your trembling limbs and presses soft kisses against your sensitive cunt before shifting up, laying himself over you. His arms cage you in on either side of your head, his face hovering close as his lips curve into a lazy smile. His arms tremble slightly, the strain of his own need barely contained, but he doesn't rush you. He just looks at you, drinking in the sight of what he's done to you-your flushed skin, mussed hair, and glassy, blown-out eyes. He searches your face, wondering if this was even real or if it was just a very, very vivid wet dream, and tomorrow he’d wake up to a mess in his pants.

But you lift your head just enough to capture his lips in a slow, heated kiss. He leans on one forearm beside your head, his other hand moving down to his cock, pumping it slowly, dragging the head of it through the slickness he created between your legs. The sensation pulls a soft whimper from you, your sensitive body twitching at the contact. His head falls into the crook of your neck, and you hear his breath stutter, thick and ragged, as he rubs himself against savoring the feeling. Before he follows that animal in him that needs to push into you, he picks his head up, eyes finding yours once again.

“Are—“ his voice breaks, thick with arousal but as he looks down at you, he wants to be sure. Needs to be, “are ya sure ya wanna—?”

“Daryl, if you don’t fuck me right now I might lose my goddamn mind,” you groan, your hands pulling at him in earnest.

A dark chuckle escapes him as he licks his lips and he guides himself into you, taking a moment to find your hole with his inexperienced aim. Your fingers trace over the valleys of his arms, hooking behind his head as you become impatient.

“Dare…” you whimper softly, rolling your hips in frustration as he keeps dragging the head of his cock along your folds.

Daryl’s brow furrows in concentration, his lips pressing into a tight line. You’re just about to reach down to help him when he finally catches the right angle. His breath hitches, his movements clumsy but determined as he pushes forward, the tip of his cock slipping into you.

His jaw goes slack almost instantly, a deep, shaky groan spilling from his throat. Nothing, absolutely fucking nothing he’d ever imagined—not his hand, not spit, not even the filthy images burned into his mind from Merle’s videos—could compare to this. The heat of you, the way your walls grip him, hot and wet and so perfect—it’s almost too much. His forehead drops to your shoulder, and he shudders against you as your back arches to meet him, adjusting to his size. He stays still, whether to let you adjust or to keep from losing himself, you’re not sure, but you’re grateful for the pause as your body stretches to accommodate him.

When you can’t wait any longer, you shift beneath him, rolling your hips slightly. The subtle movement makes him gasp sharply, his fingers tightening on your waist. His forehead presses harder against your shoulder, his breath ragged as he tries to keep control. He pulls back slowly, dragging his cock out of you inch by inch before pushing forward again, his thrusts tentative and uneven.

His groans are low and guttural, spilling out against your neck as he sets a slow, deliberate pace. Each movement sends sparks of pleasure shooting through you, and as you grip his shoulders tighter, he seems to take it as encouragement, his rhythm growing a little more confident with every roll of his hips. The way your body responds to him, the way you clutch at him like you don’t want him to stop—it’s overwhelming, almost too much for him to process. Your breath in his ear is hot and heavy, urging him to give you more, to go harder, faster, your begging almost throwing him off so much he nearly cums at the sound of your voice in his ear.

“Daryl, please–” you begin again, but his hand clamps over your mouth.

“Shut. Up.” he growls, squeezing his brows together, jaw tightening. The tension in his voice is raw, desperate. He’s holding on by a thread, trying to make this last, but your pleas are unraveling him too fast. In any other circumstance, you might’ve hit a man for talking to you like that. But the way Daryl is rutting into you, his movements so desperate and hungry, it only causes you to gush around him more. And it seems like he felt it, too.

“Yeah?” he breathes, “You like when I talk to you like that, you dirty whore?” he moans, guttural and breathy. You whimper against him, and he’s surprised the dirty talk even worked, only hearing it in some video he saw once. His mouth finds your neck, his teeth nipping and his lips pressing bruising kisses down your shoulder. One hand clamps tighter on your waist, his grip sure to leave marks, while his other remains firm over your mouth, stifling the moans spilling from you.

His thrusts turn harder, deeper, his hips driving into you with a roughness that has you gasping against his hand. He doesn’t realize how hard he’s biting and sucking on your skin, marking you in a way that will surely leave hickeys. You lift your hips with every push into you, his cock now overwhelmingly bottoming out into you every thrust, skin slapping and animalistic groans coming from both of you.

When your hand drifts down between your bodies, he sits back on his heels, gripping your hips and pulling you with him to watch. His thrusts slow for a moment as his wide, awestruck eyes follow the trail of your fingers pinching your nipples, then slipping lower to rub your clit.

His jaw drops, his breath coming in sharp pants as he watches you. “Fuck,” he mutters, his voice hoarse and shaky, his pace faltering. The sight of you touching yourself while he’s inside you—while your body stretches to take him—is almost too much for him to handle. He’s never seen anything so fucking perfect, the way his cock slides in and out of you, your juices coating him as you continue to pleasure yourself. To pleasure yourself to the act of him fucking you. Him.

You pick up the pace of your fingers, circling your clit faster as his thrusts grow erratic, his control slipping. He shakes his head slightly, pulling your hand away and replacing it with his own. His rough fingers rub your clit in messy circles, and the look on his face—sweat beading on his forehead, his eyes dark and glassy with need—is enough to send you over the edge, writhing and arching and mewling in ecstasy. The way your walls tighten and flutter around him pulls a strangled sound from his throat. He stutters out one final thrust before following you, a high-pitched moan spilling from his lips as he collapses onto you. He buries his face in your neck again, his body shaking as he empties himself inside you, riding out the waves of his climax with unsteady thrusts.

Your bodies stick together, sweat mingling as you both fight to catch your breath. He doesn’t move, his weight a comforting pressure as his lips brush lazily against your shoulder. You tilt your head, planting soft kisses along his jaw until you find his lips, kissing him gently, lazily.

“That was…” you breathe, your voice still uneven, “amazing.”

His half-hooded eyes meet yours, a small, almost bashful smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, your fingers brushing through his damp hair. “Hopefully not the first and last?”

“Definitely not,” he murmurs, his voice low but sure, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

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gingersxng · 5 months ago

Text

Put It In Your Mouth

Pairing: f!reader x Mingi

Genre: smut 18+

Summary: being away from each other wasn’t the easiest for you nor your boyfriend but I guess he takes it a lil extra hard.

Notes: sub!reader, rough dom!Mingi, kissing, groping, pet name (darling), Mingi has a big dick duh, Mingi is horny as fuck!, blowjob, manhandling, dacryphilia, throat fucking, cummmm, unprotected sex (don’t do it), mentions of porn

a/n: writing this while being sick and nauseous was a bit of a challenge but I’ve never written something so fast before. and also a BIG THANKS TO 1K!! I can’t believe how fast this acc has been growing, love you all so much<3 been awhile since I posted a fic so hope you enjoy!

edit: so I saw today when I reread this that it was so strange somehow, I guess it’s the result of me being sick. I’ve changed the title and Mingis line so it actually adds up better omg

Words: 699

your boyfriend was working late in his studio… again. it wasn’t any news to you cause it happened most of the time, you didn’t mind it but it made you miss him more tho.

instead of being half asleep in your bed at home watching boring television you got up, grabbed the car keys and drove to the KQ building. it was almost midnight and the street lights guided your way to the front door.

you reached the third floor where you knew Mingi had his studio and gently knocked on the door. a deep groan came from the other side and you saw how a tall silhouette came closer and closer. when he saw you his eyes lit up immediately, he wasn’t at all expecting to see you. Mingi lowered himself for your 1,60cm frame and gave you a kiss on your lips, you placed your hands on his chest and you felt his hands slide down to grope your ass, something he used to do when he wanted you to jump up and wrap your legs around his waist.

“you don’t know how much I’ve missed you darling” Mingi groaned as he placed kisses on your neck down your collarbones. you tossed your head back and responded with a breathy “really?”

Mingi took a seat in his computer chair as you straddled him, he roamed your body as his hooded eyes scanned every curve and valley. he was very quite tonight, more than he usually used to be but that didn’t mean his body language was. as you had your hands on his chest you felt how his heart rate increased and his pupils got dilated, something poked you in your core as well.

“are you this hard already?” you whispered in his ear and moved your hips a little. a low moan escaped his throat and before you could blink he lifted you up from his lap and pushed you down on your knees in front of him under the desk. his sudden action took you by surprise, it wasn’t like Mingi to be this violent with you.

he was quick to unzip his pants and pull out his massive cock, the aching red tip was leaking so much precum and the veins on his shaft looked like they were about to pop. you looked up at him with big eyes and gasped, Mingi grabbed your chin and put some pressure on his grip only for you to whine out in pain.

“put it in your mouth” his husky voice sent chills down your core, he stuck his tongue out raising an eyebrow before pushing your head down on his cock.

his cock head reached far down your throat and you gagged pretty good on it, he held you down for a couple of seconds before releasing you to get some air.

Mingi grabbed a handful of your hair and guided your movements so he got satisfied enough. he kept his eyes on every bob you did on his dick, his moans and groans got lower and he started to still your movements so he could do the work himself.

Mingi fucked your throat and he mocked you when he saw you begin to cry, “is my little one crying for my huge cock? is it that good”

you let out a loud cry and he came just from hearing that, your mouth got filled with loads of his warm cum, it even dropped out on the corners of your mouth. you swallowed all you could and then tried to catch your breath from the harsh actions your boyfriend took out on you.

Mingi tugged some hair behind your ear and you looked up at him, his cock was still out and it was still rock hard, like you hadn’t even touched it. he helped you up and tugged at your skirt and panties, he pulled the panties to the side and dragged two fingers through your folds to feel if you’re wet enough. your boyfriend sunk you down on his dick and slowly stretched you out.

“what’s with you Mingi!?”

“only being able to watch porn for days does things to you I guess..”

#ateez #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #ateez scenarios #ateez smut #kpop smut #mingi #mingi x reader #mingi smut #mingi imagines #mingi fanfic #mingi ateez #song mingi #mingi hard hours

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theonottsbxtch · 3 months ago

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TEACHER'S PET PT.1 | CL16

an: what's this? a student x teacher fic LOLOLOLOLOLOL if my dad had loved me i wouldn't be writing shit this unhinged i promise x

wc: 4.3k

warnings: mentions of infidelity

The first time she'd caught him staring, she thought it was an accident. The second, merely a coincidence. The third, however, she knew it was on purpose.

It wasn’t something she wanted to think about. Not really. In a class of nearly a hundred students, it seemed absurd to imagine that his attention could be directed at her—out of everyone. But there was something different about the way his gaze lingered. The first time, she’d been bent over her notebook, pen poised between her fingers, when a prickling sensation crept up the back of her neck. Her body had responded before her mind could. She glanced up and caught his eyes on her—just for a second—before he turned away, resuming his lecture as if nothing had happened.

She told herself it was nothing. Professors scanned the room all the time; it wasn’t unusual. But the memory stuck with her, burrowing into the quiet moments of her day, resurfacing when she didn’t expect it to.

The second time, it was subtler, but undeniable. She was seated toward the middle, further from the front than usual. Maybe she'd subconsciously chosen that spot to test it. To see if it would happen again. As he paced through the lecture, hands animated in the air as he spoke about the History of French Art, his eyes swept over the students, pausing just long enough on her to make her heart lurch. This time, she held his gaze for a beat longer than she should have, curiosity flaring to life. But just as quickly, he looked away.

Coincidence, she’d thought. It had to be.

By the third time, it wasn't a coincidence anymore.

It was late October, the air turning crisp as the days shortened. Leaves fell in lazy spirals outside the tall windows of the lecture hall, a cold wind knocking against the glass in soft, hollow gusts. She had arrived early, settling into her usual seat—closer now, near the front, where she could no longer pretend she was avoiding it. He arrived minutes later, his leather satchel worn but polished, the faint scent of coffee trailing him as he passed. He was always well-dressed, the kind of polished professional that seemed to belong to a different era—dark, tailored suits, pressed shirts, cufflinks that gleamed subtly under the classroom lights.

She had begun to notice the details: the curls in his dark hair, the way he absently adjusted his watch while answering questions, the deliberate, measured way he spoke, each word chosen with care.

But today, she felt him notice her. Before the lecture even started, his gaze found her. It was a quick thing, just a flicker in her direction as he arranged his notes at the podium. Her heart tripped in her chest, but she kept her face impassive, pretending to reread the passage in front of her, though she couldn’t concentrate on the words. When he began to speak, the room seemed to shrink around them. The voices of other students faded into the background. She found herself hyper-aware of the space between them—the few feet that suddenly felt like miles.

His lecture today was slower, quieter. He paced less, choosing instead to remain near the podium, his voice steady but subdued. She could feel his presence even when she wasn’t looking at him. When she dared a glance up from her notes, his eyes found hers again, not lingering too long but long enough to send a pulse of heat through her skin.

She tried to focus on what he was saying—something about Paul Cezanne and the nature of his art—but the words slipped past her. Instead, her attention drifted to the curve of his jaw as he spoke, the way his lips barely parted between words. She wondered what he saw when he looked at her. Did he know how often she thought of him lately? How she’d started to dread the days without his lectures, without that strange, invisible thread of tension pulling tighter each time their eyes met?

As the class drew to a close, she felt a strange mix of relief and disappointment. Everyone else began packing their things, zipping bags and rustling papers, but she lingered. Just a little. Her fingers slowly gathered her notebook and pens, her movements unhurried, as if she had nowhere else to be. She watched from the corner of her eye as the last few students filtered out, leaving only the two of them in the now-silent room.

She stood, slipping her bag over her shoulder, ready to leave, when his voice stopped her.

“Miss?”

Her name sounded different on his lips. Softer. She hesitated, her heart picking up speed, and turned slowly to face him. He wasn’t looking at her, not yet. His hand was poised above the chalkboard, chalk still in his grip, but he seemed distracted. He wiped at something absentmindedly, as though the motion was only a pretext to gather his thoughts.

“Yes?” she asked, keeping her voice steady, though her heart was anything but.

He turned to her then, his expression unreadable, the lines of his face shadowed by the dimming afternoon light filtering through the windows. His eyes, though, were sharp, studying her with a quiet intensity that made her chest tighten.

“You did well today,” he said, his voice low but clear, as if they were the only two people in the world just then. “Your insights during the discussion—they were... thoughtful.”

“Thank you,” she managed, though the words felt distant, automatic. There was a strange heaviness to the air, as though it was thicker, pressing in around them. The space between them felt far too small, too charged with things unspoken.

She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. “Is there something else?” she asked, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

For a moment, he didn’t respond. He held her gaze, and in that silence, something shifted. His lips parted, just slightly, as if he might say more—but he stopped. She thought she saw the faintest flicker of a smile tug at the corner of his mouth, but it vanished almost immediately.

“No,” he said, his voice even again, controlled. “That’s all.”

She nodded, a quiet acknowledgment, though the air still buzzed with what had not been said. And as she turned to leave, she could feel the weight of his eyes on her once more, lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

The library was unusually quiet for a weekday afternoon. The familiar scent of old books and polished wood mingled with the faint hum of the heating system as they walked through the aisles, the muffled sound of footsteps against carpet the only break in the silence. She and Logan had come here to study—a common enough ritual for them when end of semester exams loomed, the weight of expectations pressing down like a lead blanket.

He slid into the chair across from her, his laptop open before she even had the chance to settle her bag down. Logan was efficient like that, practical. His blond hair was tousled from the brisk wind outside, and he gave her an easy, absent smile as he booted up his computer, already lost in his task list for the day.

"Ready to drown yourself in more French Literature?" he asked, his voice warm but distracted.

She nodded, though her mind was elsewhere. The conversation with Professor Leclerc still echoed in her head, like the ticking of a clock she couldn't silence. Her fingers itched with the memory of his eyes on her, that unreadable expression, the way he'd spoken her name as if it carried weight, like he knew something she didn’t.

She forced herself to focus, pulling out her notebook and the folder with her most recent assignment—an analysis of La Liberté guidant le peuple painting by Eugène Delacroix. She'd thought she’d done well, putting in extra hours at the library and wrestling with the dense material until it finally clicked. But when she unfolded the paper and saw the red scrawl at the top, her stomach sank.

52%.

Her breath caught, heart thudding uncomfortably in her chest as she stared at the number. Not even a C, but a D. How? She skimmed through the feedback—detached but firm in Professor Leclerc’s familiar handwriting. Unclear analysis. Lacking depth. The words felt like they were meant to hurt, stinging more than they should have.

Logan looked up from his screen, noticing the shift in her expression.

"Everything okay?" he asked, leaning forward slightly, his brows furrowing in concern.

She hesitated for a moment, then turned the paper around to show him. He glanced at the grade, his lips pressing into a thin line.

"Ouch," he said, though his tone was still light, casual. "That’s rough. I know you spent ages on that."

"Yeah..." she muttered, unable to stop the flicker of frustration and disappointment from colouring her voice. She clenched her fists, crumpling the edge of the paper slightly as the words replayed in her mind. Lacking depth. The phrase stung more than the grade itself. What had she missed? And why did the criticism feel so much more personal than it should?

"You should talk to him," Logan said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. "Go to his office hours. You might be able to make a case, ask for extra credit or something."

She stiffened at the suggestion, the knot in her chest tightening. "I don’t know. He’s... strict about grades. I doubt it’ll change anything."

Logan shrugged, looking back at his screen. "You never know. Worst case, you get some feedback on where you went wrong. Best case, you convince him to give you another shot."

Her pulse quickened. Convince him. The idea of sitting in that small office with Professor Leclerc, discussing her work, his gaze on her again—it was unsettling, but not in the worst of ways. The very thought made her stomach twist in a way she couldn’t quite define, a mixture of anxiety and something else. Something that felt wrong but pulled at her nonetheless.

Logan looked up again, catching her hesitation. "Seriously, it’s no big deal. You’re one of his best students—he’ll probably just tell you what you need to fix. Maybe offer extra sessions or something."

His words felt innocent enough, completely unaware of what the suggestion stirred in her. Extra sessions. The thought sent an unexpected jolt through her. Her mind flashed briefly to the quiet, almost charged moments in class, the way Professor Leclerc’s voice dropped when he spoke directly to her, the way he lingered a little too long when he passed her desk.

She forced herself to shake it off. This was ridiculous. There was nothing going on—nothing she could even explain. She had a boyfriend who cared about her, who wanted her to do well, and all she could think about was how it felt to stand in that empty classroom, her professor’s eyes on her like she was the only one who existed.

"Yeah... maybe," she said, trying to sound casual, but her voice came out tight. She stared at the grade again, her mind a swirl of confusion, frustration, and something she didn’t want to name. "I’ll think about it."

Logan smiled at her encouragingly, leaning forward to squeeze her hand briefly. "Don’t stress. You’ve got this."

She returned the smile, but it felt thin, forced. As he went back to typing away at his notes, she couldn’t help but glance again at the feedback on the page. The red ink stared back at her, cold and unforgiving. But even more than that, the thought of confronting Professor Leclerc, sitting in his office alone, weighed on her in a way that made her throat tighten.

Could she really face him after everything? Would he look at her the same way he did in class? Would he push her in the same subtle way he had before, or would it be worse, with the closed door and the quiet of his office wrapping around them?

She knew she should go, knew Logan was right—it was just about the grade. It was practical. But the thought of those “extra sessions,” of being alone with him again, felt anything but simple.

And yet, despite the unease, she couldn’t deny the small, traitorous part of her that wondered what it might be like.

"Actually," she said, her voice quieter than she intended, "I think I’ll go to his office now."

Logan looked up from his screen, eyebrows raised in surprise. "Right now?"

She nodded, folding the paper neatly and tucking it into her notebook. "Yeah... I don’t want to let it hang over me all day. It’s better if I just get it over with, right?"

He smiled, a warm, easy grin that was comforting in its familiarity. "Good call. I’m sure he’ll understand. Just be confident—you’ve got this."

She smiled back, a little tighter than before, but she hoped he didn’t notice. The knot in her chest was tightening again, a strange mix of nerves and anticipation that made her feel a little lightheaded.

Logan closed his laptop, stood, and walked around the table toward her. He leaned down to kiss her, his lips brushing hers in a soft, reassuring goodbye. "Text me when you’re done?"

"Yeah, I will," she murmured, her heart not quite in the kiss. She tried to focus on the comfort of his presence, the safety of their easy rhythm, but her mind had already drifted, tugged in another direction by thoughts she couldn’t fully control.

Logan gave her a last, encouraging smile before turning back to his seat. "Good luck."

As she walked away, her fingers clenched the strap of her bag a little tighter, the soft echo of their parting kiss lingering, but quickly fading. Each step toward Professor Leclerc’s office felt heavier, the atmosphere around her shifting as she crossed the campus toward the quiet wing of the humanities building.

It wasn’t far—just a few minutes’ walk through the maze of lecture halls and corridors she’d grown familiar with over the last few semesters. But today, it felt different. The air was cooler, the fading autumn sunlight casting long, golden shadows across the stone walls. Her breath felt shallow, quickening with each step. By the time she reached the languages faculty office wing, the silence was almost oppressive, the only sound the faint click of her shoes against the floor.

When she turned the final corner, his office door was in view—closed but with the light seeping out from beneath it. She hesitated just a few paces from the door, her heart thrumming in her chest. She knew she had to knock, but something made her pause.

And then, her eyes drifted to the window beside his office door.

The blinds were drawn half-closed, leaving just enough of an opening to glimpse inside. At first, it was only the dim light that caught her attention, the low glow of a desk lamp casting a golden hue over the room. But then she saw him.

Professor Leclerc was standing behind his desk, his blazer tossed over the back of his chair, the crisp white sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows. His glasses, which she’d rarely seen him wear in class, perched on the bridge of his nose as he focused intently on something in front of him—papers, perhaps, or a book. The soft, thoughtful frown on his lips was different from the commanding presence he carried during lectures. It was quieter. Intimate, almost.

Her breath hitched as she watched him, her body reacting instinctively, against her will. The way his shoulders tensed slightly when he concentrated, the curve of his jaw in the low light, the way his forearms flexed as he absently adjusted his glasses—it all felt impossibly distracting. The mundane act of him rolling up his sleeves, of removing the formal layers she was used to seeing him in, suddenly felt... intimate. Personal.

Her heart sped up, pounding hard against her ribcage, and heat flushed through her chest. She knew she shouldn’t be standing there, peering in like this, but she couldn’t tear herself away. The way he looked—casual yet somehow more powerful without the blazer, the sharp lines of his face softened by the glasses—was doing something to her she hadn’t anticipated.

Her mind flickered back to the kiss Logan had given her just minutes ago, but it felt distant now, like a faint memory that didn’t belong to this moment. All she could think about was the quiet allure of Professor Leclerc, the slow burn of attraction that had been building for weeks now, whether she wanted it or not.

She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. This was ridiculous. She couldn’t go into his office feeling like this, her thoughts racing in directions they shouldn’t. She had a boyfriend. She was here to talk about her grade, to be professional, to fix a problem. Nothing more.

But as she stared through the narrow gap in the blinds, watching him shift slightly, leaning back to stretch his arms above his head, she felt that sense of professionalism slipping away. The tension in her stomach coiled tighter, her fingers trembling slightly as she reached out to knock on the door.

Before her knuckles even made contact, his voice called out from the other side.

"Come in."

Her breath caught in her throat. He hadn’t even looked up, hadn’t seen her standing there, but the sound of his voice—low, calm, commanding—felt like it wrapped around her, pulling her in. She hesitated for a second longer, her pulse thrumming in her ears, before finally pushing the door open.

The office was warmer than she expected, the scent of old books and polished wood heavy in the air. The soft glow from the desk lamp cast long shadows across the room, creating an almost intimate atmosphere despite its professional setting.

Professor Leclerc glanced up from his desk, his glasses still resting on his nose, and for a moment, their eyes met. Something flickered in his gaze—recognition, perhaps, or something else she couldn’t quite name. His expression remained neutral, but the intensity behind his eyes sent a shiver down her spine.

"Miss," he said, his voice smooth, like velvet brushing against her skin. "I didn’t expect to see you so soon."

The door clicked shut behind her, the sound louder than she expected in the quiet room. She felt a sudden rush of heat rising in her cheeks, her throat tightening as she stepped further inside. Professor Leclerc had returned his attention to the papers on his desk, marking something with precise strokes of his pen, but the moment she entered, his eyes flicked back to her, and she felt pinned under the weight of his gaze.

She stood there, frozen for a moment, unsure of where to place herself in the room that suddenly felt far too small. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, making it hard to think clearly.

"Have a seat," he said, his voice low but authoritative. It wasn’t a request.

Without thinking, she moved quickly toward the chair in front of his desk and sat down, too eager to comply. As soon as she settled, she realised how obedient she must have seemed—too quick, too eager. She swallowed hard, trying to compose herself, gripping the strap of her bag tightly in her lap. Her fingers trembled slightly, but she hoped he couldn’t see.

He took off his glasses then, placing them carefully on the desk, and leaned back in his chair. The gesture felt deliberate, a small act of removing a barrier between them, and she couldn’t help but notice how different he looked without them. His eyes—sharp and intense—were fully on her now, no longer obscured by the glass. The lines of his face were clearer, more defined in the soft lamplight, and her chest tightened at how attractive he was, especially like this—more relaxed, more... human.

"You came about your essay," he said, stating it like a fact rather than a question.

"Y-yes," she stammered, cursing herself for the shakiness in her voice. Her throat felt dry, and she shifted in her seat, trying to regain some composure. "I—um—just wanted to understand where I went wrong. I didn’t expect to... do so poorly."

He nodded, his expression unreadable as he flipped open the folder containing his copy of her work. His fingers traced the edge of the paper, his touch light but purposeful, and for some reason, her heart skipped a beat at the simple motion.

"You missed the core of the analysis," he said, his tone calm but firm. "Your analysis was surface-level. You wrote only about what we could see, but you didn’t engage how you felt. You didn’t deconstruct the painting—you only described it."

Her cheeks burned at his criticism. She bit her lip, nodding, though the words stung. She should have expected this, should have been prepared for him to be direct, but hearing him say it—especially in this setting, in this tone—made her feel smaller somehow.

He turned the paper toward her, pointing at a paragraph near the middle. "Here, for example. You’re focusing too much on the colours of the painting, but not enough on why Delacroix used them. You’re missing the underlying tension he’s working with—between art as a system of signs and the meaning that constantly escapes it."

His explanation was calm, almost gentle, but it still felt intimate, as if every word he said was meant just for her. His eyes lingered on hers, watching her reactions carefully, and she nodded again, barely able to focus on what he was saying, her mind still buzzing with the proximity of him, the quiet authority in his voice.

"I see," she whispered, though she wasn’t sure she fully did. It was hard to think clearly when he was sitting across from her, the small space between them charged with something unspoken.

He shifted slightly in his seat, leaning forward just enough that she could smell the faint hint of his cologne—clean, subtle, but warm. It surrounded her, making it harder to breathe, harder to stay focused. Her fingers tightened around the edge of her bag, her knuckles white as she tried to ground herself.

"You have potential," he continued, his voice softer now, like he was letting her in on a secret. "Your writing is strong, but you’re holding back. You need to dig deeper. Don’t be afraid to get lost in the complexity of the ideas—that’s where the real analysis happens."

Her stomach flipped at the way he said it, at the way his eyes seemed to darken slightly as they met hers. She didn’t know if she was imagining it, but the air between them felt heavier now, like something was shifting. The quiet hum of the heater in the corner was the only sound breaking the silence, but it did nothing to ease the tension coiling tighter and tighter in the room.

"I’ll... work on that," she managed to say, though her voice felt weak, distant from her own ears. She could barely process his feedback, her thoughts too consumed by the way his gaze lingered on her, the way her body reacted to his closeness.

He sat back in his chair, his posture more relaxed now, though his eyes never left her. He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. "Good. I’m here to help you with that. You can always come by during office hours if you need more guidance. I can set aside extra time for you if you’re struggling."

The words—extra time—sent a shiver down her spine, the implication innocent enough, but something about the way he said it, the way the room felt in that moment, made her pulse quicken. She could feel her cheeks growing hotter, her breath shallow, and for a moment, she was sure he could sense it, could see exactly how flustered she was.

This was wrong.

She shouldn’t be feeling this way. Not here. Not with him. She had a boyfriend—Logan, who loved her, who trusted her, who was waiting for her to text him when this was over. But as Professor Leclerc’s eyes held hers, steady and unwavering, it was impossible to deny the pull she felt, the quiet attraction that had been building in her chest for weeks now.

"I... I should go," she said abruptly, standing too quickly, her legs shaky as she gathered her things. She could feel her heart racing, the room suddenly feeling too small, too warm. "Thank you for your time, Professor."

He stood as well, watching her closely, but he made no move to stop her. His expression was calm, though there was something in his eyes—something she couldn’t quite name, but it made her chest tighten. He nodded once, his voice smooth as ever.

"Of course. You know where to find me if you need more help."

She nodded, barely able to meet his gaze as she turned toward the door, her fingers fumbling with the handle before she managed to push it open. The cool air from the hallway rushed over her as she stepped outside, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

Only when she was a few steps down the hall did she let out the breath she’d been holding. Her hands were shaking, her mind racing as she tried to process what had just happened—nothing inappropriate, nothing overtly wrong, but still, the way he had looked at her, the way he had spoken to her, made her feel like she was walking a fine line.

Her chest tightened with guilt. She had a boyfriend. Logan loved her, trusted her. And Professor Leclerc... he was her professor.

This was wrong.

part two

#f1 #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 smau #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #original character #formula one x reader #ferrari formula one #ferrari formula 1 #ferrari #charles leclerc #logan sargeant #williams racing #carlos sainz #teacher au

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heavcnslyre · 1 year ago

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chapter three — j.f. ( masterlist )

LOVER, YOU SHOULD’VE COME OVER.

“maybe i'm too young to keep good love from going wrong

but tonight, you're on my mind so, you’ll never know”

taglist: @jellybassett @glowingtree

(authors note PLEASE READ: you guys are the SWEETEST ever omg the amount of love i’ve gotten on this so far is insane. i appreciate, and reread over and over again, every single comment or reblog i get, it genuinely keeps me so motivated to write and i appreciate you guys so so much you have no idea. i haven’t written in forever so i excepted no one to like this fic but so far you guys have proven that to be not true and it brings me so much joy. i plan for this to be long!! idek how many parts i’m just gonna keep writing chapters until the story ends!! i cannot guarantee how often updates will be but i’ll write my ass off as much as i can for a while!! all the love in the world to you guys!!! enjoy!!)

you wake up the next morning with no messages from peter. this, usually wouldn’t be strange since he often slept in later than you, but he didn’t even reply to your message from last night at ten thirty. he never went to bed earlier than two in the morning. a gross, nervous feeling creeps up on you. you try to shake it off, thinking that maybe he just fell asleep early when he hadn’t heard from you. that’s what you would keep telling yourself.

downstairs in the kitchen, steven and jeremiah were sitting on stools at the counter, comparing their cereals. belly was at the table, studying the pancakes she was eating. susannah was cooking more pancakes at the stove. “morning (y/n)!” susannah greets you as you enter the room. jeremiah looks up at you and when you make eye contact, he gives you a forced smile and then looks back down at his cereal. he’d been acting weird since last night, when you told him about peter. it actually sort of made you feel bad, that you didn’t tell him sooner. he was clearly bothered by it or offended about you not telling him. the last thing you wanted to do was make things weird between the two of you, and that’s exactly what you did.

“morning susannah,” you smile at her. “can i have some pancakes?”

“absolutely you can!” she exclaims, flipping a pancake over onto a plate. “give me two minutes and they’ll be ready.”

“thanks susannah,” you say then walk over to sit with belly at the table. she smiles at you, her mouth full of pancakes.

“what are you doing today?” she asks you. you shrug.

“dunno. what were you thinking?”

“you should take me driving,” belly smiles cheekily. you laugh. she always asked to go driving ever since you got your license, but you didn’t mind. she had told you before that she trusted you the most to teach her how to drive without being too judgmental.

“sure, bells,” you say. “you can drive me into town to grab some stuff from the store.”

“bonfire tonight, (y/n),” steven turns to face you. “don’t forget.”

you nod. “would never.”

“can i go?” belly asks, looking between the two of you. steven looks at jeremiah then laughs.

“belly, that’s not really your scene,” steven says. “you’ve never gone before.”

“well i wanna go now,” she looks at you. “please?”

you look at steven, who shakes his head. you shrug. “i don’t know, belly. isn’t tonight usually your movie night?”

“it is,” susannah appears with a plate of pancakes for you. you thank her as she sets them down. “but we could always reschedule if belly wanted to go to a party with her siblings.”

“see?” belly says. “even susannah doesn’t think it’s a bad idea.”

“don’t get me too involved, now,” susannah tucks belly’s hair behind her ear. “i have no opinion on the matter except for i want you to do whatever makes you happiest.”

“i think you should come, belly,” jeremiah speaks up for the first time since you’ve gotten downstairs. everyone turns to look at him and he shrugs. he won’t look at you. “it would be fun if you were there.”

“it’s decided then,” belly says. “i’m going with!”

“better make sure it’s okay with mom first,” steven tells her, but she waves him off, finishing her pancakes and going to rinse off her plate.

“(y/n), i’ll be in the pool. come get me when you’re ready to go!”

“thirty minutes after eating before you can swim!” susannah calls out to her, but belly was already gone. susannah shakes her head, but there’s a smile on that face. “that girl.”

soon enough, you and belly are in the car, her driving you both into town. the music was blasting and the windows were down, hair whipping everywhere, but neither of you cared.

“what do you have to get from town?” belly asks.

“some hair stuff and i wanna go to that one boutique we found last year and see if they have anything cute,” you reply. she grins.

“i completely forgot about that place!”

“me too until i was packing for this trip and found my skirt i got from there last year,” you and belly had always looked around different shops in town, mainly window-shopping and judging the clothes that were sold in those shops. they were so extremely over priced and half of them looked like something your grandmother would wear. that was, until last summer, when you found the most gorgeous hot pink skirt on a sale rack at a new boutique. you could not stop thinking about it after you left, so the next day you and belly went back so that you could buy it. you wore that skirt constantly. the thing you remembered most about it was the way that jeremiah had looked at you the first time you had worn it. he made you feel so special just from one look, so that skirt became a staple piece in your wardrobe after that. when you started dating peter, you stopped wearing the skirt. it was such a small, meaningless idea that he looked at you special when you wore a random skirt, but it meant a lot to you at the same time. enough that it felt like betrayal to pack the skirt to bring to cousins, so you left it at home.

you and belly spend the afternoon at the shops, picking out outfits for each other to try and laughing at the ridiculousness you put each other through. as you’re getting ready to leave, before she starts the car, belly turns to you. “(y/n).”

“what’s up bells?”

“have you noticed anything…different, about conrad?” she sounds hesitant to ask you, and almost whispers his name. you sigh.

“sorta,” you say. “i was talking to jere last night and he told me that things were weird with him. he doesn’t know why, but it’s been months. he quit the football team.”

“what!?” belly exclaims. “no way. he loves football, i thought he was gonna play in college.”

you shrug. “so did everyone. he just changed things out of nowhere. jere said that he won’t ever say anything and pretends nothing is wrong, but he hasn’t really tried talking to him. you know how guys are with each other. talking about stuff like that does not come easy.”

belly nods, staring down at the steering wheel. you touch her arm gently. “hey, maybe you should talk to him.”

“me?”

“yeah bells. he’s happier around you, even if you don’t see it. maybe he’ll talk to you.”

she sighs. “i don’t know (y/n). he seems mad at me. like, every time we’ve talked, he is so different,” she glances over at you. “you know how i feel about him. i just…i hate the thought of losing him.”

“you won’t. i promise you, you won’t. he’ll open up. you sure as hell did not do anything wrong, it’s probably just something small he needs to work through. everything will work itself out.”

belly smiles at you gratefully. “thank you, (y/n). i think i would go crazy without you.”

“that is exactly what a big sister is for.”

she starts the car and begins to drive away. “so, another thing… do you think i should be a debutant?”

“a debutant?” you ask, shocked. “belly, when i was considering it last summer you seemed disgusted.”

“i know,” she sighs. “but susannah asked me to do it…and i know she was bummed when you didn’t do it last year so i just figured….” she trails off, but she didn’t have to finish. susannah had asked you last year to be a deb and you were going to do it, you really were. you even started looking for dresses and planning everything. that was, until jeremiah announced that he had no intention of ever being an escort to the deb ball. it had felt like such an indirect that it completely killed all of your interest in the ball. he was the only person you had even considered asking to be your escort, and he so openly hated the idea of being one, so you figured that was a sign that it wasn’t right for you. if you were honest, you always regretted it.

“you should do it,” you say after a while. “you’re right, it would make susannah happy. and i’m sure you’ll have no problem finding an escort. it’d be a lot of fun to watch.”

“you think so?”

“definitely.”

belly nods, but doesn’t say anything, focusing on the road. you do the same thing, staring forward. part of you still wondered if jeremiah would have been your escort if you had asked. the other part of you hates yourself for thinking that you would be the exception.

later that night, you’re standing and staring at your closet, trying to figure out what to wear to the bonfire. you brought a few dresses and skirts, but suddenly, you hated everything you owned. this bonfire was super fun every year and the best way to start out the summer, so you felt so much pressure to pick out something cute.

“hey,” jeremiah appears in your doorway, ready to go. “you about ready?”

“yeah,” you sigh. “just gotta figure out what to wear.”

“hm,” he thinks for a second, walking towards your closet. “you still have that pink skirt from last summer? that was good.”

you look down. “uh, left it at home.”

“oh,” he says, a hint of disappointment in his voice. then, he clears his throat and turns his back to you, facing your clothes. he looks for a second before grabbing a blue sundress and handing it to you. “here. this is perfect.”

you look at the dress and smile. it was one of your favorite dresses, simple and comfortable but super cute. of course jeremiah would pick out a sundress for you to wear. he always claimed that girls in sundresses were his weakness.

“okay. get out so i can change,” you push him out the door and he laughs as you do, allowing you to close the door in his face. you change quickly and find a pair of sandals to go with the dress, check your hair and makeup one last time, then you went downstairs to meet everyone else. conrad and belly were sitting on opposite sides of the couch, steven in the middle of them (which looked like it was awkward for all three of them), and jeremiah sat in the chair by the couch, staring at his phone. when steven sees you come down, he shoots up from his seat and claps his hands. “alright! let’s get going! jere’s driving, i call shotgun!”

you make eye contact with jeremiah who smiles at you after looking you up and down. you feel yourself blush at his gaze. he always did this to you. you felt so special just by him looking at you. it was stupid, honestly. that’s just how he was.

the five of you pile out of the house and into jeremiah’s car, you, conrad, and belly squished into the back while steven and jeremiah sat in the front seat of the car, singing their hearts out to taylor swifts ‘cruel summer.’ they were insane when it came to her music, but neither of them would ever admit it.

as soon as you arrive at the beach, steven jumps out of the car. he’s halfway to the fire by the time you even open your car door, and conrad and jeremiah are following close behind him, leaving you and belly to walk down on your own. you glance over at belly, who is staring at the group of people on the beach, a nervous look on her face. you throw your arm around her. “it’ll be okay bells. it’s actually fun here, promise. just…don’t talk to anyone weird. or too old. and if you get uncomfortable just come find me. we’ll figure it out.”

she smiles at you gratefully. “thank you, (y/n). i’ll be okay. you go have fun with your friends.”

you squeeze her shoulder gently as your friend nicole waves you over. “love you bells.”

“love you too.”

you hurry over to nicole and hug her tightly. “oh, nicole! it’s so good to see you!”

“it’s so good to see you too!” she exclaims. as you pull away from the hug, she offers you a beer and you take it. “how have you been?”

“so good,” you tell her. “the school year was great and i actually have a boyfriend back home!”

“ohhh!!” nicole squeals. “what’s his name? how long have you been together? tell me everything.”

you fill her in on all of the details of your relationship, with her squealing excitedly at the end of almost every sentence. as soon as you finish talking, you feel a hand on your shoulder, and turn to see your friend shayla. it was your turn to squeal in excitement as you hug her tightly, then nicole does the same.

“shayla! i didn’t know you were coming this early!” nicole exclaims. shayla shrugs.

“yeah, mum and dad decided we’d come now rather than later,” shayla replies. “deb season, you know? they want me to be prepared.”

“oh, don’t remind me,” nicole sighs. “i’m helping as a big sister this year. i don’t know if i’m ready to go through it again.”

shayla laughs. “cant be that bad! at least, that’s what i’m telling myself.”

“do you know who’s gonna escort you?” nicole asks. shayla glances at you quickly.

“well, it’s so early, i don’t know…”

nicole scoffs. “shayla, you are the most prepared and efficient person i know. i know you have someone in mind.”

“well,” shayla gives you an embarrassed smile. “i was kinda thinking i would try to get to know steven more. see if he would escort me.”

both of the girls look at you, waiting for your reaction. usually, you hated when girls had a crush on your brother. at school, girls who did would try to become friends with you to get closer to him, and it was tiring. but this was different. shayla was one of the most kind, incredible people you have ever met. you knew she had no ill intentions. also, steven could use a good influence like her in his life. “that sounds like a great idea, shayla.” you say sincerely. she breathes an obvious sigh of relief.

“i’m so glad you said that,” she says. “i would never wanna pursue something if it meant it would hurt our friendship. no man is worth that.”

you nod. “you’re so right.”

nicole’s eyes drift over your shoulder. “i’m, uh…i’ll be right back.”

without either of you replying, she walks away. you watch her as she walks directly to conrad, who had apparently been by himself in that moment. you and shayla look at each other and laugh.

“she is so down bad for him,” shayla says. you nod.

“painful to watch sometimes.”

shayla laughs again. “well, i’ll see you later too, (y/n). i’m gonna go talk to steven.” you grin at her.

“have fun!”

as soon as she walks away and you’re left on your own, your phone buzzes. you pull it out to see a text from peter. finally. it had only been all day since you’d heard from him.

peter: been busy today babe sorry for not replying

peter: at party rn it’s super fun!

peter: look at this video lol there was a tall ass diving board i jumped in fully clothed

peter: (attachment, one video)

you smile at his messages and click on the video he sent you. it took a moment to load, but once it did, you almost dropped your phone in shock. it wasn’t a video of him jumping off the diving board. it was a video of him making out with a random girl. you watch in pure shock, unable to move. as the video goes on, you realize it wasn’t a random girl. it was cassie, your best friend. you watch the video closely, hoping for any sign that this was some sort of a dare or big joke, but there was nothing. they were just heavily making out, his hands up her shirt and her hands in his hair, and someone just happened to be filming on peter’s phone.

peter: oh shit

you stare at your phone for a full minute after the video ended, unsure what to do next. then, looking at your other hand, you knew. you chugged the rest of your beer, found a cooler, and chugged another one. when you started your third one, you felt a hand on your shoulder. “hey.”

you turn around to see jeremiah standing there, smiling at you. “you having fun?” he asks. you nod, chugging almost half of the new beer in one sip.

“so much fun,” you finish off the third beer and go to grab another one, but jeremiah grabs your hand.

“wait, be careful,” he says. “how many have you had?”

“that was like, my first,” you lie, opening a new beer. “don’t worry, jere. i’ll be fine. just having some fun.”

he stares at you, a concerned look on his face. “(y/n), you never drink like this. what’s going on?”

“nothing!” you say cheerfully. “just trying to start the summer out right,” you look around and see a group of people dancing nearby. you take a sip of your beer and motion towards them. “i’m going to dance.”

“(y/n),” jeremiah calls, but you were already stumbling away from him, towards the people dancing. shayla and steven were in that group, shayla doing more dancing than steven was, but both of them looking like they were having fun nonetheless. shayla grins at you as you approach, grabbing your free hand and spinning you around. you giggle and dance with her for a while, finishing off your beer as you do. you were definitely drunk at this point, which wasn’t hard for you, since you were a lightweight. at things like this, you usually stopped at one beer or seltzer, so you definitely were not used to four. it was good, though. it made you forget about peter and cassie betraying you.

it made you forget until now.

if you were honest, it didn’t surprise you as much as you thought it would. cassie had been the one to introduce you to peter, and she always had a weird connection to him. you almost felt stupid for not seeing this coming sooner. most of all though, you were just angry. angry at peter for leading you on and cheating on you. angry at cassie for supposedly being your best friend and then doing this the second you’re not in town. angry at both of them for ruining the one good thing you had in a long time. as you walk towards the beer cooler again, jeremiah catches up to you and grabs your arm, holding you back. “okay, no. i’m cutting you off, (y/n).”

“let go of me,” you grumble quietly, trying to free yourself from his grip, but he was much stronger than you. he grabbed your other arm so you were forced to face him.

“(y/n), what’s going on with you?”

“nothing!” you yell at him, catching the attention of a few people around you, but you were too far gone to care. “nothings going on with me! i’m just trying to have a good time, okay?”

jeremiah smiles awkwardly at a few people around you, trying to divert the attention away from the two of you. “i know you, (y/n). why are you acting like this? you’re never like this.”

“so what?” you say. “so what if i am?”

a few girls call jeremiah’s name and attempt to wave him over to them, but he ignores them. “come on, we should get you home.”

“i don’t wanna go home,” you say hardly, looking him in the eyes. he looks genuinely concerned for you. somehow, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. “i wanna stay here.”

“(y/n)…” he’s cut off by the sound of police sirens and people yelling and scrambling around to pick up the beer cans and leave quickly. jeremiah swears under his breath and grabs your hand, pulling you away from the beach. “guess you have no choice.”

the two of you run towards his car, following everyone else who was running away from the scene. you look around frantically, but can’t find belly, conrad, or steven. “jere, wait, where’s everyone else?”

jeremiah shakes his head. “i’ll find them in a second. gotta get you to the car.”

“but belly, jere,” you say. “she’s probably scared shitless.”

he shakes his head again. “she found someone to hang out with. i’m sure she’s with him. i’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“but—“

“i’ll find her, (y/n).” he cuts you off. “just please get in the car first.” at this point, he sounds like he’s begging you. you look him in his eyes but have to look away quickly. the desperation in his expression was too painful to look at. you nod.

“okay.”

he squeezes your hand then opens the passenger door for you, allowing you to climb in. “i’ll be right back, okay? stay here.”

and with that, he’s running back towards the beach like he was superman. at that moment, it felt like he was, honestly. running back towards the cops in order to save everyone else. you weren’t sure that you knew many people who would do that. while you’re still alone in the car, you pull out your phone to finally reply to peter, who had texted you again, five times.

peter: (y/n) omg i’m so sorry

peter: wrong video but i swear it’s not what it looks like

peter: we’re both so drunk we were dared to do it and that’s why it was recorded

peter: please (y/n) please we didn’t mean it

peter: please believe me

you: fuck you

and with that, you block his number, and set your phone down. you wonder if you would have that much confidence if you were sober. you wonder if you would believe him if you were sober. it was a good thing that you weren’t, you figured. it was for the best. two months didn’t have to mean much, right? just a silly little mistake you made to date him that ended badly, but it didn’t matter, right? yeah your best friend betrayed you, but no worries, right?

suddenly, you realize that you are crying. sobbing, actually. uncontrollable sobs escape from your lips and you sit in the dark car, alone, sobbing your heart out. how was this fair? what did you do to deserve to lose your best friend and boyfriend all at once? the fact that if he hadn’t accidentally sent you that video then you never would have known made it worse. it made you wonder if this had been going on for a while, and he had just slipped up now. you could not stop crying.

even when the car doors opened and jeremiah slid into the seat next to you, you could not stop crying. he looks at you, shocked. “(y/n)?” he asks softly, unsure. the rest of the car is quiet, but you could feel everyone else’s presence in the backseat. you shake your head.

“i’m… i’m fine,” you say unconvincingly. “i’ll be, i’ll be okay.” you nod at jeremiah, who was staring at you with the same desperation on his face from before. he seems unconvinced, but starts the car, glancing at you again before he drives away. in the dark, he reaches over and grabs your hand, holding it tightly in his. you continue to cry silently for the rest of the ride home, squeezing his hand with both of yours.

#jeremiah fisher x reader #jeremiah fisher #tsitp jeremiah #jeremiah x reader #jeremiah fisher x you #jeremiah fisher x y/n #tsitp #tsitp steven #tsitp fanfic #tsitp cast #tsitp spoilers #tsitp belly #tsitpbookseries #tsitp conrad #conrad fisher #belly conklin #steven conklin #the summer i turned pretty #bria j.f updates

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xbomboi · 6 months ago

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i wonder if people actually realize that darling and dexter being twins was a retcon

if it were up to me, they’d have always been presented as twins from the start, because that’s just way better imo, but i’m not CEO of Mattel so it’s NOT up to me and we have this weird inconsistency.

i mean, first of all, the start of the tv series already includes that weird period of time where darling just straight up Does Not Exist because at the end of the day this is just an extended toy commercial and there wasn’t any toy to advertise yet.

when darling WAS, however, introduced into the show, she strangely interacts with DARING more than she ever does dexter, despite her closeness to the latter that’s established as early on as her doll’s diary. my personal guess as to why that is has to do from the show capitalizing heavily on darling’s princess charming gimmick of being a girl who’s a knight, and as a result, benefited from portraying the fact that she and daring are, in a way, foils to each other.

anyway, when darling’s doll released, her bio listed her birthday as November 16th. dexter’s birthday had already been established as the 11th of February, so at this time, darling was not intended to be his twin.

and we can see this further shown by the word choice in darling’s diary. she refers to daring as her “oldest brother” and then goes on to refer to dexter as her “older brother”. which, sure, a twin can be older than the other, but in her doll diary, she’s gonna call him her twin if they want us to know that they’re twins.

i’m not sure exactly when the earliest instance of any official media referring to darling and dexter as twins was, but if my memory serves me correctly, i believe it was a post from the official Facebook that had stated they were twins. again, don’t quote me on that.

this discrepancy is important to me as someone who has to constantly fact check lore and timeline of events, because it very much so impacted Ever After High media released prior to the twin retcon’s ability to hold up. as far as I can remember, a good amount of the books were written under the initial status of darling’s birthday falling on 11/16 rather than 2/11 with dexter, the Susanne Selfors books coming to mind in particular. but i could be wrong, because i’m not going to reread all of those books just for this post.

the updated birthday for darling ended up being the one they stuck with. a brief scroll on the official Ever After High Instagram page will show as much, with birthday posts for dexter & darling on the same day. there is the tidbit of information that dexter is still older by a few seconds (not sure if this was ever officially stated, i’m only going off of the wiki for this one detail), but i honestly think that’s only included as a way to try and rectify the past instances of darling or possibly anyone else referring to dexter as her older brother.

as of today, it seems like everyone understands darling and dexter to be twins, and if they are familiar with the past retcon, they prefer the twin change and are glad it was made. i’ve never witnessed anyone say anything like “ugh, i really wish they wouldn’t have made darling dexter’s twin and kept her younger!!”.

still, it’s interesting that it happened. i call it what it is: a retcon. and most people hear that term and associate it with negativity. which, to be fair, in terms of writing, it more often than not absolutely is. but in this isolated case, despite it making some of the supplementary pieces of media for the series confusing (though the show and books/diaries take place in a different continuity anyway), i see this as a good thing. right off the bat, it makes less sense to me that the Charmings would intentionally go on to have not just one but two other children individually after daring with him being the successful golden child they wanted. it makes more sense that they decided to have one other child just for the hell of it and happened to end up with two.

also, and i don’t have the source for this so i’m just going based off of memory, apparently the grade-level cut off isn’t in the fall in the Ever After High universe, because daring, dexter, and darling are all intended to be in the same grade according to what i believe was one of the writers or producers or something of the sort for the tv show. and i make that conclusion about the cutoff not being in the fall because daring’s birthday is April 2nd, and since he’s older than dexter & darling, they’d have been born in February of the following year, meaning in order for them to be in the same grade together, the grade level cut off couldn’t fall anywhere within the roughly nine months gap between April to the next February. which, if you’ve done the math, you’ll have realized must mean that either the cut off for the next grade either falls sometime late February anywhere after the 11th, is on the 1st of April, or is any day in the month of March.

darling being in the same grade as daring and not a grade (or two) below also makes daring and rosabella work considering that, being her roommate, rosabella would be in whatever grade darling is in, and were she to be anymore than a grade below daring, there’d be a questionable age gap. not to mention with darling herself and apple. jesus. so it’s definitely a positive that’s not the case. and to anyone who may have been confused before, this is also why dexter can room with a character like hunter, because he too is in the same grade.

or maybe this is a show for babies and nothing matters.

#can you tell the extra work i’ve had to put in for the css has got me thinking #because it has #eah #ever after high #darling charming #dexter charming #daring charming #charming siblings #charming twins #rosabella beauty #apple white #hunter huntsman #ramble #info dump

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runningincircl3s · 3 months ago

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Nothing Ever After

Noah Sebastian x Reader x Vinny Mauro

Chapter 9

chapter warnings: none?

this is a little all over the place which i apologise for but i mentioned a couple posts ago that when i was writing this i didn't have any intention of posting it so i've been going through and adding things in to make it better essentially, and this is one of those chapters that i've had to just close my eyes and press post as rereading this for the first time felt like a fever dream... but as i've said i just want this story to just be fun :)

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“That’s cool, I didn’t really expect anything in the first place. I like you too, quite a lot, but I’ve been in situations like this before and it’s taken a lot to come back from it, so I’m sorry but I don’t think I can. I’m sorry. Sweet dreams x”

You saw Vinny’s text when you woke up bright and early to your alarm at 6am, you felt your heart sink but you respected his decision. You sighed, getting out of bed with a yawn, going to brush your teeth and have a think about what to say in your reply to him.

However, as you were in the bathroom, you heard your phone vibrating on your bed. As you rush to rinse your toothbrush off, you pick your phone back up to see it was Bryan.

“Hello?”

“Hey, how are you feeling?” He asked, “We invited you to dinner last night but we didn’t hear from you. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t dead or anything.”

“No, I’m still very much alive, I just wasn't feeling too well,” you chuckled, “What time do we have to be out of here this morning?”

“We’ve not got to be out for hours, but we're aiming to be out at 9 so we have some time to spare, so meet us by the bus just before?”

“Okay, great. I better go and take a shower and pack back up again.” You said, looking around your room at the mess you and Angela had made whilst searching for an outfit for your ‘date’ with Vinny.

Which reminded you, you still needed to text him back.

“I’ll let you go and sort everything out, I’ll text you just before we leave our rooms, we'll meet you by the front desk.”

“Okay sure, thank you, bye!”

“Bye!”

As soon as you hung up, you went straight to Vin’s message and started typing your reply.

“That’s okay, I respect that and I’m sorry, I hope this doesn’t affect our friendship. See you later :)”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You had been sat on the bus for almost two hours, and you still had an hour to go before you got to the next venue. You were staring out of the window sitting next to Folio, who was shopping for some new fishing gear on his laptop, whilst the other guys were all playing something on Matt’s Xbox that they plugged into the tv.

“Folio, can I ask you something kinda strange?” You asked, crossing your legs as you tilted your head.

“Sure,” he smiled, looking up from his screen, “Ask away, what’s up?”

“Does weed ever make you horny?”

Nick didn’t know what to expect when you asked to ask him a 'kinda strange' question, but it certainly wasn’t that. He furrowed his eyebrows, his mouth hanging open, you had left him speechless.

“Uh… Why are you asking?” He seemed perplexed, as far as he knew you had never smoked before.

“Oh, I just saw this tweet, that's all. I didn’t know if it was serious or not.”

“Oh,” he laughed, “Well I guess I could see how that could work… But personally I’ve never uh, never had that happen to me before.”

“I guess you only smoke with guys,” you chuckled, “Not that it’s bad to be horny around the guys!”

“Woah!” Noah gasped, freezing on his way to the bathroom as he caught what you were saying, “What are we talking about? All I heard was being horny around the guys?!”

You laughed, shaking your head as you looked up at him.

“I was just asking Folio something. Are we almost there yet?”

“Okay I do not want to know what you asked him! But yeah, I thought traffic would be pretty bad today but it’s not really. We should be there pretty soon.” He says, excusing himself to go and pee.

"I was thinking about starting a youtube," Nicholas announces, "I think what Ricky does is pretty cool-"

"Hell no!" Matt laughs, "I am not having a camera shoved in my face all day."

"I just thought it would be a cool way to connect with the fans," Ruffilo adds, "I just don't know what kind of equipment I'd need or where to even start."

"I could help..." You suggest, and you notice all the guys- except Nicholas- glaring at you, their eyes almost twitching, "Maybe we could try and vlog today to see how it goes?"

"That would be awesome," he smiles, "Thanks y/n."

"No problem." You grin, watching the horror on all the guys faces, trying not to chuckle to yourself.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Whilst the equipment was being taken into the venue, the guys from both bands were all stood together in three groups: Ryan, Ricky, Vinny, Folio and Jolly; Justin, Nicholas, Noah, Bryan and you, whilst Chris was on a call in the bus, and Matt was helping move things.

As the group you were with were discussing a movie that all wanted to see when it comes out in theatres, you can’t help but listen into the others’ conversation.

“So, Vin, what did you get up to last night?” Ryan asked with a smirk, blowing out a cloud of smoke from his vape.

“I went out for dinner with an old friend, I don’t think I’ve seen him in about six years so it was great to catch up.”

“Oh, ‘him’?” Ryan grinned, as the other guys looked in confusion.

“What do you mean?” Vinny asked, shaking his head.

“Well, last night I asked for the keys to the bus so I could see if I left my vape in there because my other one died, and I was told you had the keys. I came to yours and Rick’s room and he said you were out with a friend, so I went to the bus anyway and all I could hear was ‘oh Vinny! Right there Vinny! Oh Vinny I’m gonna cum!’” He laughed as he mocked your voice, “So who was this ‘friend’?”

“You don’t know her.” Vinny said, bluntly, looking down at his feet.

“Was it Amy again?” Ricky asked, “I know she’s a stoner and Chris said the driver complained that the bus stank of weed this morning.”

“No, it wasn’t. She’s in California anyway.” Vinny sighs, “look, you don’t know her okay, and it was a mistake. She’d never smoked before and we got high and one thing led to another…”

As he said that, you watched as something clicked in Folio’s brain as he came to a realisation and his head snapped up before looking over at you, catching your eye. You quickly looked away, taking a breath before approaching Nicholas.

"So Nick, I have my spare camera with me if you'd like to borrow that for your vlogs?"

"Really?" He smiled, putting out his cigarette, "That would be great, thank you!"

And so you spent the next hour teaching him how to use your camera for videoing, and he was a pretty quick learner. You stood with him during soundcheck as he spoke into the camera, the other guys trying to stay away from him as much as they could, but Folio couldn't get away too quickly.

"So, tell me about the tour." Nicholas smiled behind the camera, recording Folio as he sat as his drums. You sat by them, working on your laptop, editing pictures and thinking of different shots you wanted to get tonight.

"Uh, it's gonna be awesome! We're playing at some places we've never been before, we're joined by the greatest people we could ever tour with-"

"Noah!" Ruffilo quickly interrupts Nick as he turns the camera to Noah, who crossed his arms and let out a long sigh, "Do you have a tour update for us?"

"Well, I can tell you tonight's shows gonna be sick, Matt's insanely good at his job," he clapped his hands together as he thought, "I don't know what else to say..."

"You guys really suck, y'know that." Nicholas said as he put the camera down. "We used to be youtubers, man, what happened?"

"I wouldn't say that." Noah laughed.

"Why don't you just talk to the camera," a familiar voice suggested from behind you, causing you to tense up, you hadn't spoken to him at all today, and the thought alone made you feel nervous, "That's what Rick does most of the time. I think it's quite wholesome..."

Vinny was checking out what Folio was doing as he set up his drums, testing them with his drum tech to make sure they sounded alright and everything was as it should be. Yet he didn't acknowledge you at all, which made you feel even worse about the situation.

Instead of listening to him talk to Folio, unable to look away from his arms as he reached out to help Nick make sure his snare was in place or something, you decided to be a good friend.

"I'll give you an update, I feel like I need to introduce myself to you guys' fans anyway."

"That's such a good idea," Nicholas' eyes widened, it was almost as if you could see a lightbulb above his head in that moment. You watched as he switched the camera back on, "So on this tour, you might see a new face running around the stage, this is y/n!" He turned the camera to you and you smiled, "Why don't you tell them a bit about yourself."

You tried to push through the awkwardness of speaking to a camera, and nodded your head, this was your idea after all.

"So, I'm y/n, I'm a friend of Bryan's and I'm a photographer. It's been my dream for years now to be a touring photographer for bands, so I'm so happy to be here and to be working with my best friend! However, I'm actually Motionless in White's photographer for the first few shows, but after that I'll be up there getting some cool pictures of Bad Omens." You grinned, not knowing what else to say.

"Hey, Vinny!" Nicholas pointed the camera back to the drums, zooming in on Vin, "How was she?"

"What?" Vinny's eyes filled with horror, furrowing his eyebrows as he shook his head in confusion, and Folio clocked this too, a smirk forming on his lips.

"Y/n, on the first show of the tour, how was she?"

"Oh, um... Good, I guess. I dunno, I wasn't really paying any attention."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

As the guys went over things one last time in soundcheck, you sat outside with Angela as she took a puff of her vape. She had only got here about twenty minutes ago, and you had been stuck to her side. Vinny hadn’t spoken to you all day, and all that kept playing in your head was the moment he told the guys by the bus that ‘it was a mistake.’ You desperately wanted to know if he meant that, or if he was just saying it to get the guys off his back.

“What’s up?” Angela asked suddenly, “You’ve been pretty quiet... bad date last night?”

“That’s one way of describing it.”

“What happened?” She asked, eager to know.

“The restaurant was shut so we got a pizza and watched a movie on the bus. I got high for the first time and then… We did something we shouldn’t have.”

“You fucked?!” She almost shouted.

“Shhh! Yes, but Ryan heard us from outside. He doesn’t know it was me, and I don’t think Vin would tell him. But I told Vinny when I was back in my room that I don’t want to commit to anything right now as I still don’t know how I’m feeling and I think it upset him.”

“Why? What makes you think that?” She frowned.

“He's been off with me all day, he hasn't spoken to me at all and when Ruff asked him a question about me he gave him the bleakest answer he could, and then last night- Wait I’ll show you the texts.” You said, reaching in your pocket for your phone.

“Dang,” she whispered as she read what Vin said, “Y'know, he has been hurt in the past, he’s just protecting himself, honey.” She says, wrapping an arm around you, hugging you from the side and your knees touch as you both sat on the cold stone step outside.

“I know,” you sigh, “I just feel so shitty for upsetting him like that. And he hasn’t spoken to me all day, I'm just worried I've fucked everything up, all because I wanted to be honest with him!” You groan, resting your head on her shoulder as you try to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill.

“Hey, don’t get upset, I know Vin and I know he'll get over it! Look, we still have half an hour or so before I start working on their faces,” she smiled, “Why don’t we go and get donuts? If we’re feeling kind we can bring some back for the guys- heavy on the if.”

“That sounds great.” You smiled, and Angela took your hand as you both stood up.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Guess what we’ve got!” Angela grinned as she set the box down on the table backstage.

“Where’s Chris? I made sure we got some vegan ones for you too, they look even better than ours!” You smiled, handing him the paper bag.

“Thank you so much! They look delicious!” Chris gasped as he took the bag from you, watching as the rest of the guys fought over which ones they wanted.

“Hey, y/n, can I talk to you quickly?” Folio asked, nodding his head towards the door as if to say in private.

You followed him out and asked him what he wanted.

“I just don’t think it’s a coincidence.” He says.

“What?”

“Don’t do this to me, y/n. I know exactly what you’re doing.”

“What?!”

“Last night you weren’t picking up your phone, Noah was knocking at your room but you weren’t answering. Then this morning you ask if weed makes you horny? Then, it turns out Vinny also went missing, he was caught having sex in the bus and- to only confirm my suspicions- the girl he was with had never smoked before. Not to mention his face when Ruff asked him that question earlier.”

“Look, he could’ve been making that up!”

“You can’t fool me, y/n.” He smiled, shaking his head, “First I catch you and Noah, then Ryan catches you with Vin-”

“It wasn’t me!”

“Bullshit! Bryan did everything he could to convince the guys for you to join us and so far all you’ve done is take a couple crap pictures and fuck 2 of the guys!” He exclaimed.

“What? I never fucked Noah!” You scoffed.

“So you did fuck Vin?”

“No!” You sigh, your back hitting the wall as you slide down to a crouching position. “Nick, what is this all about? I thought we were friends, why are you doing this to me?”

“I care about my band and our reputation. I care about my friends.”

“And now you don’t care about me? I thought we were friends? Now you hate me all of a sudden? This doesn't make sense?”

Folio paused, shaking his head.

“Hey, look, I don’t hate you, y/n. I’m sorry if I worded that wrong. I’ve just had the worst fucking year of my life, ever since my girlfriend left, and seeing you mess around with these guys hurts because I don’t want them to feel a fraction of the way I have.”

“Oh, Nick,” you frowned, “Look, it’s not my intention to fuck around, I mean it. It’s just… Can I be really honest with you? And I mean pinky promise kind of honest, you won't tell the guys?”

“Always.” He said, holding his pinky finger out to you.

“I really like Noah, I think I always have, but sometimes he gives me the impression he doesn’t feel the same way. But then that night at the club when I met Vinny I feel like we instantly clicked. I feel like I’ve known him my whole life and I’ve never felt this way about anybody before. He got upset when he found out what me and Noah got up to that night, and I told him that there's nothing between me and Noah, y'know, I told him we aren't exclusive or anything. So he asked me on a date, it kinda didn’t go to plan and yes, I fucked Vinny on the bus last night, and then I also fucked everything up between us by telling him I just want to have fun whilst we're on tour and not have to be tied down to one guy, I don't care how that makes me sound! I like Noah and Vinny, Vinny knows I like Noah, but Noah has no idea about Vin and-”

“You’re in quite a predicament,” Nick sighs, pressing his lips together, “Have you talked to Noah about that night, the two of you on the bus?”

“No, we sort of just pretended like it never happened.”

“I think you need to talk to him, y/n.”

“Talk to who? What’s going on?” Noah asked, standing by the door, “I wondered where you guys got to.”

“Can I talk to you, Noah?" You ask as Folio gives you a smile and slips past you back into the room.

“Of course, what’s up?” He asks, shutting the door behind Nick as he followed you over to the end of the hallway, making sure nobody else heard what you were about to talk about.

“I… What are we, Noah?" You blurted it out, afraid to even look up at him, "I can’t keep pretending like there’s nothing going on between us.”

“Whatever you want us to be.” Noah says, noticing how upset you had gotten. He puts a hand out to you and pulls you up. “Is this all that’s bothering you?”

You nod your head, wiping the tears away from your eyes.

“I really like you Noah, but whilst we're on tour to commit to anything. How would it look if Bad Omens suddenly have this new photographer then it comes out that she's with the lead singer, everyone will hate me, especially your fans, other bands won't take me seriously, I might not get booked if they think you're the reason I got a way in, they'll think I'm just doing it to get to you, do you see where I'm coming from?” As you finish rambling, Noah nods his head.

“I do, and it's a shame you have to think like that, but if it's something that's going to put our careers at risk then we have to put that first for now," he says, brushing your hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear, “We can just keep things casual, helping each other out when we need it.” He smirked, and you couldn’t help but smile. He was so pretty up close, you were more than jealous.

“I’d like that.” You smiled, looking up at him.

There was a comfortable silence between the two of you as Noah’s hand raised to your chin, his finger pulling your face up for him to capture your lips with his own as he leaned down, his other hand on your waist, pulling you closer to him as you hesitantly arms wrapped around his neck.

As you kissed you thought about how his lips felt on yours, and how the warm feeling was growing in your stomach, similar to how you felt with Vinny last night. However with Vinny, that warm feeling was replaced by electricity, adrenaline, it made you want to come back for more. It was addictive, whereas Noah felt safe, homely even. However, the moment was quickly over as you opened your eyes, suddenly spotting Vinny stood by the door, his face paled as he quickly turned back around, before you could even push away from Noah.

“Sorry,” Noah apologised as you shoved him off of you, “Shit!”

“Hey, no, it’s okay! I was into it, wanted it! It’s just I really need to pee! Pre-show nerves!” You laughed nervously, running off to the bathroom.

You locked yourself in a stall and finally allowed yourself to breathe before quickly sent a text to Angela asking if she could come and talk, but she didn’t see it, you assumed she was doing the guys’ makeup. You checked the time on your phone, knowing that Motionless were set to go on at 6, so if you waited a little while you could hopefully avoid Vinny and the terrible guilt you’d feel in his presence and then rush out on to the stage with your camera.

When your phone vibrated in your hand, you looked to see a text from Matt.

“Is everything okay? Noah said you ran off to the bathroom all of a sudden.”

“Need a tampon or something? I could go and get some?”

You laughed at Matt’s text, but found it quite wholesome that he was willing to do that.

“No, I'm okay!” You replied, followed by,

“Have miw gone out yet?”

“Yeah they just went on, you better run out there!”

“Vinny was asking about you.”

———————————————

don’t worry team vinny we will be so back in a couple chapters!! <3

@rumoured-whispers @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @lma1986 @thisbicc @dominuslunae @miss570 @miamore0570 @jilliemiw86 @itsyaboinoah

#noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian fanfic #vinny mauro fanfic #vinny mauro x reader #nothing ever after <3 #bad omens fanfic #motionless in white fanfic #noah sebastian fanfiction #vinny mauro fanfiction

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https-mi1zu · 2 months ago

Text

The Peacock and The Crow

(the draft-ish, chapters 1-2)

CO WRITER, SPELL CHECKER, AND MY BESTIE IN GENERAL: @cha0sdumpster

WARNINGS : nothign really ig?

word count: 4,283

To gabby, the first to hear.

CHAPTER ONE . Life is weird, but I'm weirder

I didn't really want to become a hero, but here we are.

Everyday was the same, I woke up early, 5:30 or so. I got ready, fixed my hair and packed my lunch. Meanwhile, my mother was passed out on the couch with some man. I went back to my room to get them a blanket. I left them a glass of water before I left for school. As I walked out of the house and slowly made my way to the bus stop, I couldn't help but feel a sense of isolation. It was like I was living two different lives - my own and that of my mother's. I waited for the bus, wondering if things would ever change, or if I were always meant to feel like an outsider.

At least my mother was grateful enough to give me her headphones. As soon as I plugged in my headphones, it felt as if the world just stopped for a moment. It felt freeing, it felt as if I was high as a cloud and...is that a horse with wings??

I took off my glasses to wipe them a bit, maybe I was just seeing things. I looked back, only to see just a normal maya bird flying by. As I sat on the bus, lost in thought, I couldn't help wondering if there were other kids like me out there - kids who felt like outcasts and longed to find a place where they could truly fit in. I was aware that there were other kids in my class who also struggled with ADHD and dyslexia. My mother was surprised that I had made it to grade 7.

I wondered if there was somewhere out there where I could find people who understood me and where I belonged, maybe even a place where I could've become a forest witch.

I could daydream about finding a place where I fit in and could be a forest witch, the bus pulled up to a stop, it jolted me back to reality. I got off the bus and began walking to school, still lost in thought. I took off my earphones as I got off.

I walked in the hallways, it was quite early, I couldn't help but notice some strange things around me - a bird that was acting weirdly, a crack in the sidewalk, and a piece of paper floating in the air. But I shook my head, thinking it was just your imagination again. 'Just my imagination is running wild.' I said to myself, mostly.

I put my bags at my desk as I walked over to the corner of the room. Our classroom was quite small, but it had a fire exit. We never got to use it, but it was cool anyway.

I could hear the slight buzz of the fan, our aircon hadn't been fixed yet. Why did I even bring a jacket anyway?

I looked at our schedule, making myself mentally memorize the subjects. 'math first...science next...filipino right after recess, ‘did I remember to bring my apron?' I thought. We had art today, double period, our art teacher was quite nice.

After I reread the schedule a couple more times, I walked to my desk. It was in the third row of the third column of our classroom.

I brought out my books, I didn't need much other than my whiteboard (which I forgot to bring, again) and my notebooks. After I got my books and shoved them under my desk, I walked over to my locker, 'I should really buy a lock.' I said to myself. Opening my locker and then shoved my bag and lunch box in. I slammed the door to it shut so nothing would fall out.

I made my way through the medium-sized room, the air seemed to grow colder, as if the temperature had dropped a few degrees. The shadows in the corners appear to thicken and deepen, almost as if they are slowly coming to life. I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, like there are eyes following my every move. But everytime I turn around there's nobody there.

The flickering of the fluorescent lights above only adds to the sense of unease, casting shifting patterns of brightness and darkness across the room. I could hear faint, almost imperceptible whispers echoing through the corridors.

'it's just the wind.' I told myself, I sat down back on my desk

But the whispers continued, growing louder and more menacing as I sat at my desk. They seem to come from every corner of the room, as if they are trying to communicate something important like they are trying to warn me of something.

The shadows in the corner seem to twist and writhe, almost like they are trying to form some kind of shape. It's hard to make out what exactly they're trying to take the form of, but it almost seems like a familiar shape. I needed to clear my mind so I opened the door and made my way to the bathroom. It was a quiet walk, the corridors empty with the leaves on the ground. I looked down at the ground as I walked. The rocks embedded in the beige concrete made different shapes, the sizes ranging from big to small. It really looked like a messed up mosaic.

I reached the bathroom, the whispers grew louder and more frenzied, as if they were desperate to communicate something. The shadows in the corner of the room seemed to move and writhe even more.

Turning on the faucet, the water that came out was ice cold, as if it had been sitting in a frozen pond for hours. I splashed water on my face, expecting it to be refreshing and calming, but instead the water felt strange, almost as if it was pulling something out of me.

I looked at myself in the mirror, the whispers in the back of my mind grew to an unbearable level. It was like they were trying to drown me in my negative thoughts. Didn't work though.

The longer I looked into the mirror, I noticed the small imperfections on my face.

The small but noticeable double chin I had

My many moles on my face

The pimples and the acne

My round baby face. I've always hated my face.

I fixed and tied up my hair. It always looked bad the moment I stepped into school. I think it's the school air that always makes people’s hair look weird. Walking out of the bathroom, I could feel the whispers in the air behind, beside, and in front of me. Why couldn't they quiet down for once? Just for a day is all I ask. They kept persisting, whispering thoughts and messages through my ears. It was as if all I could hear until I saw my teacher.

Mrs Fiore. She was my mentor and my composition teacher. I forgot we had class coaching today, class coaching was for our writing. We had to make a fake myth about an item or a food in our hometown. Mrs Fiore wasn't only our English teacher, but so was Ms Santos, our literature teacher. She was a little bit more meaner than Mrs fiore.

I always found Mrs Fiore kind, she always had this vibe that I could only describe as comforting. Maybe it was because she always smelt like flowers, or because her hugs always felt nice and warm.

The small things I noticed about her was that she always had a flower in hand or her auburn hair. Miss Fiore always wore this necklace with a pomegranate charm on it. She also always had at least something black on, and she for some reason would always disappear in September, sometimes August. Those were the ber-months. I always questioned why she would be gone for so long…she did mention it was to visit someone. Maybe it's her husband, though why doesn't he just live with her? Why couldn't he visit her instead of her visiting him?

Mrs fiore wasn't the only teacher who would disappear for September and august, Ms santos too. Ms Santos and Mrs fiore looked related in a way, like niece and aunt, or mother and daughter.

I gave Mrs. Fiore a small wave and passed her in the hallways, she waved back with a smile.

The weeks felt longer and more tiring as each day passes. Sometimes there would be something interesting, for example my history teacher said that whoever recited the full intro to this TV show would get an extra point on the quiz. Everyone thought it was a joke until one of my classmates, Carmen, raised her hand.

To everyone’s surprise, she somehow managed to recite it all. She got an extra point on the quiz that day.

I wanted to raise my hand too but, I guess I was too afraid to speak. I was always too afraid to speak, I hated the fact that I was afraid.

Sitting back in my chair, I got lost in thought.

I questioned my purpose in this world. Would it be better if I just hadn't existed? What would my classmates do if I just disappeared? would they even notice?

The answer to my last question was no. One time we had a party, teachers day. I disappeared from the class party to make bracelets with Mrs Fiore, when I came back an hour later, I asked “did you notice I was gone?”

“Uhhhh…yeaaahh?” My classmate responded uncertainty. The music was loud. Loud to make it sound like a whisper, but not loud enough for me to hear what she was saying

I knew it was a lie.

This made me truly question why I am even here, in this school. Why did my parents choose this school? They did say it was more accommodating to my ADHD. I would've been better off in some public school than this. At least there, no one talks bad about you. Well, not in front of you at least.

Maybe if I had been a better student, only then my classmates would notice me. As the day progressed, it was somewhat quiet. We had two quizzes, one in math and the other in Filipino.

Usually I had to go to a separate place to take these tests. MLP, the modified learning program. It was for kids like me, ones that had a troubled time in learning.

There was another girl in MLP, her name was Mars. Mars and I, were friends, to say the least. How we became friends was…interesting.

Mars saw that I liked the same thing as her, which was a TV show called The Amazing Adventures of the Hare and the Lamb. It was a children's show, I just watched it because I got bored. It was a good TV show though, I re-watched it three or four times.

The moment Mars saw that I had some merch I made myself, she immediately started to talk to me. Telling me all about her favorite character, why the show’s so good, and then about a song I haven't heard of.

Ever since that day, we became friends. Though we were in different classes, she would invite me to eat lunch, she would sometimes give me rocks she found. Sometimes Mars would even just tell me a story or a character she created on the weekend. Nevertheless, I would listen to her nonstop. It wouldn't matter what mood I was in or how much homework I had, I'd always want to listen to her. It was like she was my sister in a way, or a version of me I wished to be ever since I was young.

Entering the small room for MLP, it was quiet except for the teacher there, Miss Luzviminda. Me and Mars called her Miss Luz for short. She was already there, writing some report or something. I walked into the room, giving her a small wave before sitting down.

“Did you study for the quiz, June?” She asked me, getting up from her velvet chair and handing me my quiz paper. “Yep,” I responded, bringing out my mechanical pencil. I started to write my name, just June Manalo. I didn't want to add the extra Christina, too lazy to write my full name. I looked at the paper and giving a somewhat cringed look, math.

I didn't like math, although yes I did understand the lesson, I'd forget how to do the steps to the questions. That's why Miss Luz would help me.

Miss Luz was kind, she was like my tita. She’d always ask how I was doing or what I did during the weekends, Mars would start shaking her hands and start ranting about everything she did during the weekend, too bad she’s absent today. Miss Luz would always tell Mars to calm down a bit with a comforting smile. Mars would sit down and fidget in her seat in response.

I started trying my best to answer the questions in the quiz, asking Miss luz if I did this or that correctly.

CHAPTER TWO: why am I like this?

The day passed very quickly, in the blink of an eye. I didn’t even really do much except for the quizzes and writing notes. At lunch I kind of just stayed at where me and Mars usually eat, which was the gate closest to our classrooms, gate two. Opening my lunch box, I brought out the lunch I made before I had left school, a simple nutella sandwich with banana and a Chuckie. Some others might say that this isn't a healthy or a filling lunch, well I can't cook.

I opened the metal container, bringing the sandwich to my mouth to take a bite, it tasted cold, I still ate it even though. Then I peeled my banana and poked my Chuckie with the straw to drink. I should really eat more, it's not really healthy to eat the same lunch everyday.

After I finished eating my sandwich, banana, and chuckie, I just sat there and opened my notebook to draw. I like drawing, usually though i'd draw some characters I've created in my head, or Mars’ characters

I started with a simple sketch of a head and eyes, not really knowing what to draw, I just went with the flow. As I kept drawing, I heard one of my teachers pass, Miss Estioco. She was my science teacher last year, she was like me. She was socially awkward but kind of a nerd, not in a bad way though. She was like one of those cool teachers who would somewhat let you do what you want, or just talk to casually.

She waved and smiled at me, a strand of her black hair falling onto her face before she brushed it behind her ear. I waved back, wondering what she was doing at gate two. I then heard a motorcycle pull up, oh she was just getting food she ordered. She walked to the gate, gave the driver the money before walking back inside. After that I just went back to drawing.

This was calming, my therapy, I liked sitting by myself and drawing. It would be better if Mars was here but this was fine enough as is. ‘The right eye’s to big.’ I thought, erasing the eye and tilting my notebook to draw it similar to the left one. Drawing was like gambling to me sometimes, I never knew if it looked nice or not, if it looked correctly portioned or not. Its like having a love hate relationship with drawing, I both love it and hate it.

An hour or 40 minutes pass, the lunch bell rung. I packed my stuff, shoving my metal empty container in with my water jug. I fixed my hair in a window that was being covered inside with a curtain. It was dark enough for me to see my reflection through the glass. ‘Eh, look good enough’ I tightened the knot of the jacket around my waist before walking back to my classroom. There were a lot of people, some in groups or just having a normal conversation. I quickly tried to walk past them, saying “excuse me” a thousand times before reaching my classroom. It was loud, really loud, there were people in small groups in the corner and the center of the classroom chatting away. The chatter of multiple conversations and the occasional yell could be heard during break. Walking over to my locker, I opened it and put my stuff inside. Reaching into my locker after putting my lunch box in it, I grabbed my apron since art was the second to last subject of the day. After that I sat back in my seat, my apron in my lap while I continued to draw.

But something felt…different. Something felt as if I was being watched from afar. I looked up and turned my head to look around the classroom, everyone was minding their own business. I tried to ignore the feeling of being watched but, I just couldn’t. I could just feel someone’s gaze staring right at me, watching my every move, like a hawk would do to prey. I felt helpless, I don't like being stared at, it's uncomfortable and awkward.

I heard the bell ring not too long after, getting up from my seat, grabbing my pencil and putting it in my jacket’s pocket. We didn’t need much to bring, just really our apron and a pencil. I watched as everyone left the room, I was the last so I had to close the lights and close the door. Staying at the back of the line, I still could hear them talking and chatting away, gossiping or talking about plans for the weekend.

When we reached the art room, our teacher was already there, Miss Reyes. She was there organizing the artworks of the class before us, placing them carefully on a shelf for them to dry. She greeted us with a good afternoon and told us to sit down. Miss Reyes said that we would be making an art based on a country and its tradition, people, and artwork. We’d be able to choose the country, I chose Greece since I liked studying and learning about its mythology.

She gave us a flat canvas and a marker and told us to write our name, section, and the country we chose. She also said that we could choose from a variety of art materials, varying from paints, paint brushes, sand, and newspapers. We could use any material to paint our artwork, so I chose an eraser. Never really did I like painting or coloring, I liked doing that virtually. We were also allowed to use the computer to search for ideas for our artwork. I stood behind one of my most talkative classmates while I waited for my turn to use the computer to search for an idea. My classmate just kept talking and talking to the point it was annoying, like seriously can't you tell that it's too loud or what you're even saying didn't even make sense? She wasn't even talking to me but one of the smarter people in class, Isabel. I stood there patiently, fidgeting with the eraser. Then I just decided to draw the first thing on my mind, since time was of the essence. I walked back to the table I was situated at and began drawing up a design. It was of the goddess Persephone, most people just say that she’s the wife of Hades but she was so much more than that. She’s the goddess of spring, the queen of the underworld. She was so much more than just “hades’ wife”.

I made sure to draw her to be looking ethereal, with long flowy jellyfish like hair, eyes comforting and kind. I made sure to add her sign, a pomegranate. I gave her a simple chiton, adding some accessories like a crown, rings, bracelets, and flowers. She looked pretty, I made sure of that.

I was seated in the corner of the classroom, with four of my classmates lingering around my desk. They didn’t talk to me much, as I didn’t talk to them either. I kept my head down and continued drawing, overhearing their conversation. I sketched a few more lines, as they talked about another person in our batch. Something controversial, as I remember. Every day was like this actually, people talking about someone or something.

I tried to ignore them, trust me I did, but now I know that one person in this batch is gay, I'm gay but like it's different y'know?

Overhearing their conversation accidentally, they kept talking and yapping away about someone else now. I stayed silent, although I did know that person, but not really on the friend level more like a simple wave or hi in the hallways type. I felt sad for her, she didn’t deserve this treatment, but I couldn’t do anything about it. I kept my silence, didn’t want to add to the gossip, neither did I want to join the gossip.

As I continued to draw, I still felt as if I was being watched. Someone was watching me, that was for sure. I could feel its eyes peering into my skin, making it uncomfortable for me to draw. I stopped for a moment, looking around to see everyone talking to each other or focusing on their artwork, no one was staring at me. So I just went back to drawing, sketching lines delicately.

After I was finished with the sketch, I didn't want to color it, it was too pretty for coloring. I got up from my seat and walked over to Miss Reyes to ask her if I should color it or not. She gave me good advice, telling me to try and use shading if I didn't want to color it. I nodded and thanked her for that before walking back to my seat. Everyone else was still drawing and painting their artwork. Since I didn't know what to do, I just cleaned up my area and stayed silent while I waited for class to end.

Boredom took over as I watched the clock tick, waiting patiently for the bell to ring. We had like, maybe five or ten minutes left I think.

The minutes passed by, everyone was still chatting and talking. I saw Miss Reyes walking around, checking up with my classmates and giving them advice about their artworks. When she walked up to me, she asked “oh june! I'm kind of worried that the bracelet you gave me might break, can I ask that you restring it?” She took off the bracelet I made for her on teacher's day. “I wear it everyday kasi” She smiled at me warmly as I took the bracelet from her hands. “Yes miss.” I replied, putting the bracelet in my pocket, she walked off as another of my classmates called her.

More or maybe five minutes pass, it was finally the next class. I saw everyone get up, still chatting with each other as they cleaned up their tables and their workspaces. We still had one more class, religion. I was the first to be out of the art classroom, waving my teacher goodbye.

It was quiet out, no other students were walking around, no maritesses chatting around or young students running around. I liked the quiet, but I never liked being alone. After I made it back to my classroom, I drank some water as the rest of my classmates filled the room. We all waited for a bit before my religion teacher came in, Miss Elane. Almost half my batch hated her because she always goes ‘im not mad, I'm not sad, nor am I disappointed. I'm worried about you guys failing your test.’ She always says that after half the class failed her test. She expected us to memorize the bible’s verses, I can't even remember what I had for breakfast. I know, I know Miss Elane had good intentions but why did she have to say it like that?

”Good afternoon class” She said, everyone replied with a good afternoon to her too. We were all very tired, mentally and physically. She told us all to stand up to pray, though I didn't want to, so I just stood there with my arms crossed. Then with that she started her lesson on some new bible verse.

Everyone sat back down and pulled out their notebooks to start taking notes on the verse. I didn't want to take notes, for I was too tired to do so. “June, what was Abraham promised?” she called on me unexpectedly. “He was promised angels?” I answered, standing up. Miss Elane just sighed before turning to the board to write, I am scared. Maybe I got scared because of her glare, how intimidating her ‘comforting’ smile was, or how she would always pull me out of class to ask me personal questions. I always tried to answer them vaguely and asked her if I could leave.

She would always call me the black sheep of the flock, commenting on how I would always walk a bit slower then my class so I don't have to socialize with them. I didn’t like her one bit, I didn’t like how she would try to talk to me, trying to pry me away from my class. There was even a time where, I swear to you that Miss Elane blinked sideways.

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fanboyzuko · 20 days ago

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Hiiii!!!!

I recently reread the LTF series and there was a bit about Zuko wanting to get the baby backpack/holster/wrap thing that Water Tribe women use for his egg. What if after Yue found out about the long, she got him one as a seeing-off gift or something? It'd be adorable. I'm kinda tempted to make art but I'm not that good with details and anatomy

I'm DELIGHTED! Yue absolutely would get him an amauti as a present :3 So here's that, and then some ;D

Filling LTF prompts for the New Year!

Yue fidgeted nervously with the ends of her sleeves as she waited for Elder Ikiaq to leave her and Zuko alone. She always spent some time with them, answering any questions they came up with from their discussion the day prior, then left them to freely talk without adult supervision. Not that they could freely talk in Elder Ikiaq’s office, that was reserved for Yue’s conservatory with only Kunnik as a potential eavesdropper, but there was still plenty to talk about besides Zuko being, well, Zuko.

Today was his last day in Agna Qel’a, so of course Zuko wanted to get as much as he could from Elder Ikiaq before he left. But Yue had a present to give him and really wanted to see him try it on!

Finally, Zuko’s curiosity was sated and Elder Ikiaq left with her usual teasing words, “Don’t solve your differences with your fists. I’m just down the hall if you need a mediator.”

Nevermind that Yue and Zuko’s disagreements never came close to getting physical. It was just one time Elder Ikiaq walked in on them in the middle of a shouting match and she wouldn’t let it go!

Wearing matching red cheeks, Yue and Zuko politely bid Elder Ikiaq farewell. They sat frozen in place as she left, then several moments longer to make sure she wasn’t about to return. In tandem, they whipped to each other with wide smiles. Whatever Zuko had to say was cut off by Yue shoving her present into his arms.

“What’s this?” Zuko asked, eyes wide.

Yue snorted and resolutely did not roll her eyes. “Well why don’t you open it instead of asking me?”

With a petulant scowl, Zuko pulled away the cloth wrapping. He stared down at the soft, dyed fur of the parka inside and tilted his head inquisitively. Rather than asking questions, he unfolded the parka and quickly discovered the extremely large hood which set it apart from the one he already had. Eyes flickering up to Yue with disbelieving excitement, Zuko turned his attention to the inside of the parka and let out an excited shout.

“It’s an amauti!”

Yue giggled, pleased her surprise was as well received as she hoped. Zuko was already pulling off what he was wearing, careful to keep the lóng egg concealed in the folds as he changed. The servants had looked at Yue oddly when she made the request for an amauti to give as a gift, but this was totally worth the gossip.

“Now you can keep her safer if your journey brings you to cold climates again.”

“It’s brilliant!” Zuko cheered as his head popped out of the mass of fur. “Help me figure out the best way to get her settled!”

Smile so wide her cheeks ached, Yue kept an ear out for anyone entering the room as she helped position their egg of hope in the baby holder. With its blanket wrapped around its top to hide its glow and the hood half pulled up, no one would be the wiser as to what Zuko was keeping warm next to his body.

Now, hopefully the next time he needed his parka, he wouldn’t be in the poles… People of the Earth Kingdom wouldn’t recognize the amauti for what it really was, but people of the Water Tribes definitely would.

- - -

Katara frowned at their strange guest. There were a lot of questions and mysteries surrounding him, but there was one thing that really caught her eye.

“Hey, Sokka, have you noticed-”

“Yes, Katara! Yes, I noticed everything! We need to chase him off; he’s so suspicious. He’s obviously working for the Fire Nation or-”

Katara elbowed her paranoid brother with a heavy sigh and rolled her eyes. “His clothes, did you notice his clothes? He said they got their parkas from the Northern Tribe, right? Why’d they give him an amauti?”

Sokka froze and whipped his head around to stare at their guest again. His jaw dropped. Before Katara could stop him, he was stomping over with a manic grin.

“Hey, Hui, are you a teen dad?!”

#thepanopticon-is-just-azkaban #ltf extras #hny ltf prompts

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archangeldyke-all · 8 months ago

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Oooh for Roach Verse, what about:

-Holiday funtime antics?

-Jinx has a school bully and those chuckleheads create the most over the top plots to help her out, lol

-Jinx brings home a stray

-The gang gives Roach the day off from cooking/ healing/general caretaking and it goes about as well as you'd imagine

-Jinx has a crush on some kid, and Silco/Sevika are not coping well

That's off the top of my head, I gotta go reread the Roach series now! lol

these are so fucking fantastic, i might revisit this a few times to do some of the other prompts too omg. but the one with jinx bringing home a stray??? chaos i love it.

men and minors dni

lock's been avoiding you all day.

it's strange. usually, you, lock and ran are like the three musketeers-- always getting into and back out of trouble together.

but today... lock's been avoiding you like the plague.

it's a little funny. the man's three hundred pounds of pure muscle, tattooed and pierced on nearly every inch of his skin, but each time he walks in a room with you there, he turns on his heel and runs away like a scared little girl.

mostly, though, you're just worried that you've pissed off your friend.

"he really hasn't said anything to you?" you ask ran. they're 'helping' you make sandwiches for lunch-- eating more than they are assembling, but still. you appreciate the company.

"nah, he's been jumpy around me too." they mumble around a mouthful of turkey. you cringe in disgust as you watch them squirt a dollop of mustard directly into their mouth, on top of the mush of turkey on their tongue. "don' worry. we'll get 'im drunk and interrogate him tonight." ran promises, patting your shoulder. you giggle, smacking your friend's hand away from the cold cuts.

twenty minutes later, you're making your rounds across the bar and delivering sandwiches to the crew.

singed and deckard barely notice you, both of them searching the lab for something when you drop off their sandwiches. singed shouts a distracted "thank you roach!" before the basement door slams behind you.

thieram's still asleep-- preparing to stay up all night tonight for work. you put his sandwich on his desk and gently nudge him. "'s almost two." you whisper. he grunts.

"thamk y' r'ch." he mumbles.

your next stop is silco's office, since lock is still hiding from you. you gently knock on the door. "lunch!" you call.

"come in!" silco shouts.

silco's laying back in his office chair, his feet propped up on his desk, a cigar between his lips as he scrubs at his temples. you raise an eyebrow at his haggard appearance, gently placing his sandwich beside the papers littering his desk.

"rough day?" you guess. silco groans. from the sound of his groan alone, you know he needs a bitch-session. you happily plop down on the couch next to his desk, tearing into your sandwich and nodding at silco. "spill. but make it quick, i still gotta feed the kid."

silco groans again at the mention of his foster daughter, and you burst into laughter. of course it's about jinx. silco's never this angsty about business. "she's been avoiding me all day." he sighs, dropping his hands to look at you. you furrow your brows.

"it's only one." you say. he huffs.

"she was acting cagey last night too. has she said anything to you?" he asks. you shake your head no.

you're usually the first person jinx goes to bitch about silco to. you or sevika. so the fact that you haven't heard anything only makes her behavior stranger. silco groans again.

"i don't even know what i did! we were perfectly fine at lunch yesterday, and now she won't even let me in her room!"

"she's probably just hormonal. puberty, silco, it's different for girls man." you try to explain. he just shakes his head.

"no it's not that."

you take another bite of your sandwich, gesturing at silco to do the same. he huffs and rolls his yes, but he at least takes a bite, so you're happy. "lock's been acting jumpy around me too. maybe it's just somethin' in the air." you suggest.

silco's eyes sharpen at your words. the second you hear yourself say it, you figure it out too.

"oh, shit." you mumble, jumping off the couch. "what did those shits get themselves into now?" you ask, scooping up the last few sandwiches you have left to deliver and running toward the office door. silco starts to chuckle behind you-- a defeated laugh, one that means he knows he's about to have an even bigger headache that he did when he just thought jinx was upset with him.

"don't let them drag you into it, roach. i need you as my informant." he begs. you laugh.

"i'll let you know what i find out." you call over your shoulder as you stumble into the hallway and slam silco's office door shut behind him.

you take off toward jinx's room, not bothering to knock, knowing it would only give them time to hide whatever shit they're up to.

you slam the door open, and your eyebrows fly up your forehead when not just jinx and lock; but jinx, lock and sevika all turn to look at you with big guilty eyes.

you groan. "what did you do?"

"now, hold on, why do you assume we--"

"babe, i promise i had nothing to do with it until just this morn--"

"i am so sorry roach, i told her not to--"

they all start to speak at the same time, flailing wildly as their voices overlap. and then, from a pile of blankets and plushies on jinx's bed, a raspy 'meow' floats above all the rambling voices.

they all cringe simultaneously, their heads snapping over to the bed. you burst into defeated laughter.

"a cat!?" you ask, walking over to the bed. jinx's eyes grow a little wider at the smile on your face, and she's the first to run up to your side. "oh, janna." you groan through your smile as you look down at the mangy thing. "fuck, jinx, it's probably getting fleas and lice all over your covers."

she blinks up at you with wide eyes. "but she's so cute, roach!" she squeals. you giggle at the girl, then look up at your friends.

lock's cooing down at the cat, gently patting its forehead as it purrs into his hand. sevika's watching it with a smile she's trying and failing to bite back.

"you're all suckers!" you cry. they both look up at you guiltily.

"jinx is gonna name 'er shitstorm." sevika supplies. you laugh despite yourself, reaching out to ruffle jinx's bangs. it's the perfect name for the poor little cat.

"where did you even find this thing?" you ask. jinx shrugs.

"i heard meowing in the lab last night. found her hiding in a corner, all scared and alone." jinx pouts, reaching down to pet the cat. it seems to know jinx is it's savior-- licking at her hand and closing its eyes as she pets it.

it occurs to you that this is probably what deckard and singed were looking for earlier. you have to bite back a laugh-- this cat is one lucky fucker, narrowly avoiding a brutal death of shimmer experimentation to become a little girl's fur-baby.

"roach..." jinx whispers. you look up from the little cat, rolling your eyes at the wet puppy eyes jinx is blinking at you. "please can we keep her?" she whines.

you huff, throw each of your friends their sandwich, then lean forward and pick the cat up, holding it to your chest. it's a docile little thing, cuddling against you the second you got it in your arms. jinx is wiggling with glee before you, already knowing what your answer's going to be. you flip her off, and she grins.

"fine." you grunt. jinx and lock burst into happy squeals, jumping up and down as they hold each other's hands. sevika's grinning behind the pair. "but you three gotta help me take care of this mess understand?" you ask. they all nod.

"whatever you need, roach." lock promises, grining. you giggle.

"okay. lock, take jinx's bedding out back and burn it-- it's easier than trying to wash out all the bugs and diseases." jinx pouts a bit at the thought of losing her star-themed sheets, and you nudge her with your foot. "you still got your dinosaur sheets in the closet. and i'll buy you a new set next time we're at the markets, okay?" you ask. she nods up at you. lock gets to work stripping her bed.

"jinx, go talk to silco. he thinks you're mad at him."

"you think he's gonna let me keep 'er?" she asks, worried. you snort.

"jinx, you could ask silco for the moon and he'd find a way to bring it to you." you say. jinx smiles shyly at this, and you ruffle her bangs again. "tell 'im i say that pets are good for kids' social development, or some bullshit like that. she'll be good for pest control in the bar. get him to take you shopping for some food and a litter box for little shitstorm, okay?" you ask.

jinx grins and nods up at you, wrapping your legs in a quick hug before taking off down the hall to talk to silco. you laugh as you watch her go.

sevika's the only one left, blinking at you guiltily from across jinx's room. you snort at the sight of her. "come help me clean this little shit." you mumble, nodding toward jinx's bathroom.

sevika follows with a smile.

"you're the sucker." she teases as you pass her the cat, plugging the sink and filling it with warm soapy water. you snort.

"you know she was supposed to be one of singed's test subjects?" you ask. sevika bursts into laughter, scratching the cat under her chin. she purrs so loud it's like a little motor. "i went down there today, he and deckard were tearing the lab apart looking for the cat." you laugh.

sevika snorts. "after her bath i'll go break the news to 'em."

down the hall, silco's shocked voice rings out. "a cat!?"

you and sevika burst into giggles.

you take the cat from her hands, firmly holding it as you start to scrub it's skin free of bugs. she yowls at the water, but settles down once you start to scrub her, seemingly liking her bath. sevika wraps an arm around your waist, kissing your head as you work.

"she is a cute little thing. makes me feel bad for all the creatures jinx didn't rescue from singed." you whisper. sevika chuckles.

"honestly, babe, we're just lucky singed hasn't started experimenting on humans yet." she jokes.

thumping footsteps come running toward jinx's room. you both look up in time to see ran round the corner, a manic grin on their face. "a cat!" they squeal, pushing into the bathroom to coo down at the sweet little thing. "awe, hello sweet girl!" they cry, taking the cat out of your hands and into their arms.

you giggle at sevika's shocked expression-- ran's just a ball of sunshine under their bangs and eyeliner-- and pass ran a clean towel to wrap the cat in.

"you got it from here?" you ask your friend, trusting that they know how to care for the creature better than you. they grin, pressing kisses to the wet cat's head.

"jinx already named me godparent. suck it, bitches." ran says, sticking their tongue out at you and sevika, hugging the cat closer to their chest.

sevika snorts and you roll your eyes fondly.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @vikasub @glass-apothecary @m0numents @macaroni676 @vixel352 @artinvain

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika #ran arcane

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panicloser · 17 days ago

Text

School Zone Girls | Family Headcanons | Part 1

Yo so we never see the parents and usually not the siblings of the characters. Which suck but also it means I'm free to come up with whatever interpretations of them that I want *rubs hands together mischievously* >:)

Anyway I reread this manga recently so here's headcanons about what their family's are like, I hyperfocus wrote all these down in one night without editing them, some of these I came up with when I read it originally and some I came up with today, so yeah here's a bunch of food for the starving fandom

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

Rei Yokoe

-so it's confirmed that she has an older brother and it specifically says she's living with him. Plus lives in a small apartment and only calls out for him in this scenes which leads me to believe that she's only living with him

-i can just smell the mommy issues on her I don't know what to tell you.

-An obsessive attachment to a woman and has rejection sensitivity, sounds like mommy issue behaviour to me

-i think probably neglectful mother considering her want for attention from Kei and wanting to be around a person constantly

-i also just get the vibe that she only ever had one parent in the picture, so maybe her mom just got pregnant or whatever with no real relationship idk, either way no dad or anything

-her mom was never particularly attentive and was always quite flaky, went out a lot, did whatever she wanted to enjoy herself. gave her and her brother a lot of independence but not much attention. When they asked for things or showed her stuff she didn't really process it much most of the time

-But the few times she did give them attention she was overly affectionate and acted like nothing happened

-her mom also never really put pressure about doing good in school or anything obviously so that's why Rei doesn't have that at all

-once her older brother was legally an adult/able to live on his own she decided to fuck off and leave the two of them living there on their own. She pays them money to keep them sustained here and there maybe visits once in a blue moon but other than that she's not around

-she's a strange lady

-however Rei has a very good relationship with her brother because of all this.

-They argue at times of course but only in that lighthearted sibling way. They've always had the tendency to play fun games or do silly shit together

-i have a headcanon that her brother is just as weird and goofy as Rei but unlike her he's better at masking it in public or around people he's not close to

-Her brother unfortunately has to work a lot to sustain them both, leaving her alone often but he tries his best to not be like their mom and find time whenever he can to spend time with her

-I think Rei would try to talk about her mom's neglect like it's not a big deal but she's really torn about it on the inside and she doesn't hide it that well. Most of the time she just tries not to think about it.

-it would be fun to write a fic where her mom comes back to visit and Rei's in a weird mood about it which Kei notices.

Kei Suguira

-I think Kei hates doing school work and shit just as much as Rei but the difference is that her parents put pressure on her to be good at it

-i get the vibe that both her mom and dad would be serious people that put focus on having a successful career and the typical family and that kind of thing. They're social norm and rule followers y'know

-i don't think they would be as harsh as other parents and they certainly care very much about their kids and can say that but they try to nudge their kids in a certain direction. As long as Kei has doing her work she can have all the fun she wants outside of that

-both her parents are quite similar to each other and hold pretty stereotypical family roles

-Also I headcanon her parents are homophobic at least somewhat and have brought it up. Because Kei has to be getting her internalised homophobia from somewhere and it doesn't seem to be from her peers or her sister which leads me to guess her parents are

-speaking of her sister, we see her in the manga so I don't have to make up too much about her

-they argue way more than Rei and her sibling. Kei's sister making fun of her a lot is the reason Kei is so competitive and embarrassed easily. she's used to getting mad at her sister a lot so used to defending herself and being hotheaded

-her sister her teases her, she gets mad at her, but at the end of the day if the other really was going through something they would have each other's back. They've got a "only I can shit talk her!" type of dynamic

-I think Kei feels kind of nuetral about her parents, she loves them but doesn't feel close to them or like she could open up in a serious way

-her parents think Rei is really fucking weird and wonder if she's a bad influence but unless they found any major effects or about the gay shit I don't think they would make a big deal about it

Yatsude Negoro

-i think she has a pretty good relationship with her parents

-i feel like neither of them are particularly affectionate. Which certainly isn't from a lack of love, I think they both love their daughter very much they just don't show it in a stereotypical way

-the family love language is acts of service and giving each other advice

-her parents are quite similar to her so they all just kind of understand each other very well

-i think both of them are pretty career driven

-i think one of her parents is tends to be a bit nosey into her life which is where Yatsude gets it from and the other isn't and gives her a lot of space

-i could maybe see her parents being a same sex couple? But also maybe not? Idk either way I do kinda of imagine her having a dad that she has a good relationship with though. Maybe he's the one who's nosey.

-Yatsude says she doesn't have any siblings but she also says this line about little shits.

-I'm guessing that means maybe she has a lot of younger cousins. I headcanon that at family gatherings she always tasked with being the babysitter which is why she's got those mother instincts with her friends

The Hinase Twins

-so they mentioned their mom 3 times in their flashback thing and theres also that picture of them with their awards where they're with I'm assuming the mom

-never mentioned a dad or anything else

-considering that and that their mom probably pushes both of them (or at least with Hiragi at first) to do well in school and extraciruclar activities and the extremely codependent relationship the twins had from a very young age leads me to headcanon that maybe their dad died when they were very young. Like a bit before even the oldest flashback we see of them

-its a very bold claim that's likely not true but it would explain their codependcy, Hiragi's early on sense of responsibility towards Tsubaki and Tsubaki's immediate willingness to lean on that. Maybe their mom prompted them to do well at school or other stuff because she was worried about their future because of that loss or it was a way of honouring him. Maybe their dad was a fairly responsible or serious person

-their dad could have dipped too? That would also explain these things.

-anyway as for their mom, I do think she has overall had a focus on them being very successful, way more than Kei's parents. But I do think she is a fairly affectionate person and is willing to help them do the best they can in anyway they need

-probably works a lot

-doesn't push either of them to makeup if they don't want to, advices them individually when she has the time which isn't often

-pressures them but like in a nice way. And then the rest of the time she's busy

-Hiragi thinks her mom's niceness is fake but does appreciate when she helps

-Tsubaki thinks her mom's niceness is genuine but doesn't appreciate when she helps

-both of them resent their mother for a lack of care and feel the strong need to constantly impress her. They both wish she was more loving but neither of them complain about it out loud. Instead both of them just seek alternate authority figures to lean on (Hiragi through Akutami & Tsubaki through Yatsude)

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

Link to Part 2

#school zone girls #school zone girls manga #school zone girls headcanons #szg #rei yokoe #kei suguira #yatsude negoro #tsubaki hinase #hiragi hinase

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softguarnere · 1 year ago

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ok dove, my love, the writer I aspire to be bc your fics are actually 🤌 I was wondering if you could mayhaps appease my craving for a Joe Toye x sick reader fic? I'm quite literally dying of bronchitis and a double ear infection and I have done nothing but reread your work bc it's literally like drugs for me oml

anyway I hope you're doing okay and autumn treats you wonderfully!! <333

In Sickness and In Health

Joe Toye x reader

A/N: Hey Sky! You are too sweet, oh my goodness 🙈 Thank you so so much! I'm so sorry that you're sick, and I hope you're feeling better now 💕 Get well soon beloved, and I hope you enjoy this! (This is written for the fictional depictions from the show - no disrespect to the real life veterans!) Also, just a reminder that my requests are closed; I wrote this as part of catching up on requests that were already in my asks Warnings: unspecified sickness

This isn’t how it was supposed to happen, you can’t help but think for the millionth time today. But no, every time you think about your original plans for the weekend, the temperature of the room feels even hotter, the pinpricks of sweat on your brow and neck even more prominent, and the pain in your stomach even worse.

“Joe,” you sigh when the man in question takes a seat on the bed, making the mattress at your feet dip under his weight.

He holds up a hand, stopping your sentence in its tracks. “Don’t you dare apologize again.”

His voice is gentle, but you can’t help leaning back onto your pillow and sighing. Because you are sorry. Really, really sorry, for just about everything you can think of. The fact that you travelled all this way for your husband’s reunion with his old army buddies, only to get sick the night before; that he’s taking care of you when he should be catching up with old friends and reminiscing over memories; that he won’t listen to you when you insist that he can leave you here.

“You should go see your friends.” They’re probably all down at the hotel bar by now. Even though the reunion won’t officially start until tomorrow, some of them are probably pregaming.

“I can’t. Not when I’m taking care of you. I made a vow, remember? In sickness and in health.”

I really do have the perfect husband, you can’t help but think to yourself. How many other men would shrug it off, or sneak away once you were asleep? Strange, how the roles have been reversed here, with you insisting that he go, that you can fend for yourself.

You sigh again. “I just – I feel bad. We came all this way to see your friends, and all you’ve gotten to see so far is the inside of this hotel room.”

But Joe only shrugs. “Well, the reunion doesn’t even start until tomorrow. Maybe you’ll feel better by then. We’ll just see what happens. Besides,” he rushes on before you can continue. “A lot of the guys live in Pennsylvania anyways. If we want to see each other, we can just make the drive some other time.”

“But Joe,” you stress. “This is the Easy reunion. This was important to you.”

“You’re important to me,” he deadpans, but his eyes are soft. “I won’t be able to enjoy any of it if I’m worrying about you the whole time.”

Oh. You had been so caught up in worrying about him enjoying himself that you hadn’t even considered that. Maybe the combination of the sickness and the medicine has clouded your judgement. Or maybe just your love for him has.

“You should rest,” Joe suggests. “Do you want me to get you anything?”

You want for him to hold you, to make you feel better. But unfortunately, there are some things in the world that not even a man as strong as Joe Toye can fight off, and sickness is one of them.

The two of you have been together for quite some time now, though, and he knows you well enough to read your mind. Without even asking, he kicks off his shoes, adjusts his prosthetic leg, and curls up beside you on the bed, wrapping you in his arms.

“Let me know if you get too hot,” he whispers. When you nod, he repeats his sentiment from earlier. “Don’t worry, okay, (Y/N)? We’ll see what happens in the morning.”

The morning feels like such a distant time. Right now, the only time that means anything is that which you spend in his arms.

#joe toye #joe toye x reader #band of brothers #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers fanfic #my writing #tumblr friends #sky 🌌

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clownakai · 2 months ago

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Today’s a pleasant Saturday, and after having a good laugh at the "The reviews are in" post, I thought I’d dive into an intersting theory about the possible connection between Gin and Mary :)

Shared Phrases (?) Both Gin and Mary are the only characters to say, “It’s like encountering a demon in the darkness.” Similarly, Tsutomu and Shuichi are the only ones who’ve said, “The fault is 50/50.” I mean.. it's pretty obivious from just here already.

Appearance In terms of appearance, Mary, Sera, Akai, and Gin share two notable features: green eyes and distinct lines under their lower eyelids. Mary also has platinum hair, much like Gin’s.

Mary’s shrinking instead of being killed Mary’s shrinking, rather than being executed by BO, is particularly strange. After all, BO is notorious for ruthless efficiency—why use APTX 4869 instead of simply shooting her? The idea of sparing an enemy with a “golden medicine” that took years of research feels uncharacteristically merciful for BO. Their usual motto of “leave no trace” makes this decision seem odd and deliberate.

The boss’s decision to let Mary live seems to be a carefully calculated trap. It’s confirmed that Sherry’s mother and Mary are biological sisters (as the author has stated that Akai and Sherry are cousins). This means Mary and Sherry share familial genes as aunt and niece, making their bodies react similarly to the drug. I believe Gin may have known early on that Sherry was alive and was aware of Kudo's survival as well. Therefore, Gin and the boss know that Mary will survive this drug as well. Gin likely hinted this to the boss and orchestrated events to leave Mary alive. Why? They will use Mary as a bait to retrieve the antidote.

If BO were to capture Sherry, she’d likely refuse to cooperate. If they killed her, they’d lose their only chance at the antidote. Raising Sherry, funding her studies abroad, and investing years in her research suggests how vital she is to the boss’s plans. Killing Kudo would also be out of the question—Sherry’s guilt over Kudo’s predicament is what drives her to work on the antidote. If Kudo were killed, Sherry might even commit suicide, leaving BO without their much needed antiodote.

Mary’s shrinking seems to be a part of the boss’s larger scheme to manipulate Sherry. By targeting Mary, someone closely tied to Sherry and the silver bullet Akai, the boss ensures that all roads lead back to Sherry. This clever and cost-effective strategy leverages Mary’s condition to force Sherry’s hand, ensuring she stays within BO’s reach. In the process, it draws in powerful agencies like the FBI, CIA, and MI6, all of whom may unwittingly aid the boss’s agenda. In the end, the trap wasn’t just for Mary—it was a strategic move to draw out Sherry and secure BO’s ultimate goal: the antidote. This theory further supports the idea that Mary and Gin might be related, potentially as mother and son. Otherwise she wouldn't have been alive until now.

Hello anon! Just so you know this was a delightful surprise to find in my inbox today :3 I think I reread the whole thing like four times before even thinking of doing anything else djsjfsk I love theories so much💥💥💥

(Everything else is under the cut because I ended up yapping too much. I'm so sorry)

I really like this theory, especially since it indirectly covers for the fact that Masumi (partly due to Mary's orders as she's getting more and more impatient) hasn't exactly been subtle in her attempts to get the temporary antidote and has generally been very liberal with the information she has about Conan and Haibara's identities, talking about it in public and even getting overheard (granted, Subaru isn't the issue here, and it's not a guarantee that she's being tailed 24/7 as that would be a bit of a hassle to keep up, but still). One would think that they'd have been found out by now, given that the BO is now fully certain of Masumi's existence and relations (Vermouth on the Mystery Train my beloved & beloathed... Girl why r u so evil) and, as minimal as it is, she does represent a threat, but nothing has happened to either of them yet.

I do think that the point about the BO's decision to use the poison is a little shaky, seeing as it's been explicitly stated to leave no trace on the body— which actually fits pretty well with their motto, and we do glimpse a pretty long list of people it's been used on a few times throughout the manga (we only see a few names, but it's speculated to be much longer than what is shown), so it would seem that the BO has been using it semi-regularly when they wanted more down-low executions.

There was also no guarantee that Mary would react the same way to the APTX even with a possible genetic advantage observed in Shiho (and without knowing exactly what they were looking for, I'm fairly sure trying to compare the two's DNA in order to confirm their theory would be really difficult if not outright impossible in such a short timespan, and that's if you don't consider the absence of the person who knows the most about the APTX in the first place and could have sped things up if she was there). <- sidenote: I feel like I may have misread this point of the theory, so my interpretation and objection could be completely off bc it's not what you were talking about djsnfns

That said, I find the point about ensuring a direct line to Sherry through familial relations very interesting, in the sense that it made me stop and ask myself how she would react upon finding out that she has more living family still, but over half of them are people who she may see as having caused her grief/major discomfort at best. Would her wish to connect to her family be stronger than her self-preservation (along with the fact that she doesn't really know these people and therefore has no emotional attachment to them, not even as abstract idealized family)? I'm genuinely not sure, but the BO banking on this, possibly because having essentially groomed her they know her weaknesses best, is very juicy.

Honestly, thanks to that post (and a few delightful conversations about it), I do think that making Mary and Gin related in some way would be like. Really really funny. It'd also probably piss off a lot of people, but it'd be so funny.

And, given Gosho's magic retconning powers, I have come to the conclusion that Gin being Elena and Mary's brother that nobody ever talks about for some reason would be peak comedy. It even gives the whole "Elena and her husband received an offer they couldn't say no to because it'd let them continue their research" thing a new layer of context if you consider that Gin may have been the one who brought them to the Boss's attention.

This is also brought to you by my superficial genetics liker ass who says "Tsutomu's hair is brown and Mary's is blond. Brown is a dominant gene while blond is recessive, so unless Tsutomu's genotype was heterozygous (which we unfortunately can't know without the rest of his family tree. Also Gosho only seems to care about genetics from time to time) Gin should also have brown hair".

Also it's infinitely funnier if this is all a very complicated example of what Cain's Instinct looks like. Imagine playing the long game for literal decades because you want your siblings dead but it should also wipe out the rest of the family. Insane

#Sorry for yapping so much djsnfndksmd I just loveeeeee theories they're fun to look at and deconstruct and rebuild and make a little silly #Like I said before I really really really like this one! It would explain how their recklessness hasn't been punished yet #And that's usually what bugs me the most about Mary's behavior in the manga. The fact that there are no real consequences for it #ALSO ALSO the genetics thing may be wrong actually. I studied it years ago and didn't bother opening a textbook again to check skdjs SORYS #Thank you so much anon! This genuinely made my day sjdkdkdgh #asks #anon ask #yapping time #dcmk #detco #detective conan #mary sera #gin #gin detective conan #haibara ai #detco spoilers

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