#this is the point where everything goes south | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

textmel8r · 6 months ago

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[ SMAU + DRABBLE ] 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 ! ( eighth installment ) in which you find toji fushiguro’s number off a sugar baby site .

୨୧˚ part; one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight. nine. ten. eleven.

୨୧˚ incl; toji fushiguro

୨୧˚ cw; sugarmommy! reader , sugarbaby! toji , smut , submissive toji , finger sucking , masturbation , oral sex (f!receiving) , profanity

୨୧˚ an; so not happy with my writing in this one, probs will rewrite it one day but here, have a couple thousand words of smut🗣️ this is lowkey another filler but lowkey not at the same time? i wanted to fit in another intimate moment before shit goes south awooooooo

You were not fibbing when you said you knew your way around the kitchen. “Holy fuck,” Toji all but moans, tearing into another piece of tender meat with his canines. It was juicy and seasoned almost too much, just the way he likes it. He squints across the table, where you eat in tandem with much better manners than he could ever hope to have. “Who taught you how to cook like this?”

You shrug bashfully under his gawking, wiping your mouth with a dainty stroke of the napkin you had placed in your lap. “I traveled a lot in between semesters at college. Italy, France, Denmark…” You list a few more places that Toji wouldn’t be able to point out on a map. “Those European countries do food so good, I guess it inspired me to give my best shot at it as well.” Self taught, huh? Yeah, you seem like the type to succeed in everything you try.

The man nods, ultimately wishing he had more to add. He wishes he had just an ounce in common with you, a smidgen of relatability to offer. But he doesn’t. Toji didn’t finish school. He’s never left Japan. He’s never cooked a damn thing from scratch in his life. You must’ve caught on to his struggle and decided to show mercy by adding, “actually, right now we’re eating steak au poivre.”

“Steak au po–” He cut himself off before inevitably butchering the name. “What is that? French?”

You’re nodding enthusiastically. “That’s right. I happened upon this dish when I was staying in Bordeaux with a few college mates.” There’s a sweet smile tugging sheepishly at your lips as you recall the memory. “I fell in love with it the second I tried it, and asked the manager right then and there for the recipe.”

Toji shakes his head with disbelief, talking with his mouth full of food. “You’re just full of stories, aren’t you?”

“Some would call me experienced, yes.”

His brow raises. Experienced? Was that a come on? Toji gives way to his own quaint smile, jutting his chin toward you. “Say it again.”

“Say what again?”

“Steak au whatever.”

You oblige his request, repeating the name back slowly so he could attempt to grasp it. “Steak au poivre. Now you give it a go.”

Toji finishes chewing the mouthful of peppercorn-laced meat, swallowing it down with a swig of the Château Cheval Blanc you’d poured at the start of the meal. Some fancy French imported wine is what he gathered from the long winded description you waxed as you topped off an extravagant glass for him. Wine never really appealed to the man—he usually went for the harder shit. The type that you knock back from lowball glasses. The type to get you piss drunk after three rounds—but it was all you ever drank. It was safe to say he was becoming accustomed to your tastes. Maybe the sweetness wasn’t so terrible. He clears his throat, putting embarrassingly too much effort into his “steak au poivre.” It doesn’t sound pretty the way it did leaving your mouth, and he grimaces. “Can’t fucking do it.”

“I thought you sounded good.” He scoffs at that, but you click your tongue. “I’m serious.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll just leave the French speaking to you.” The plate before him sits scraped clean. You’re still working on your dinner. Fuck, you’re a slow eater. “You know any more?”

“Any more French, you mean?”

He nods along with a gruff hum, swishing his tongue around his teeth, collecting anything left over of that smokiness from the peppered steak.

“Hm. Tu m'as manqué, Toji.” You hide your grin behind the rim of your glass.

Thick forearms crossed over chest, he croons a deep, barely-there chuckle. “I heard my name. Tell me what you said.”

“No way,” you chortle.

“Ah, c’mon. You’re all blushy.” He licks over the chappedness of his lower lip, knowing gaze latched onto your lips. It was hypnotic, your smile. “You say somethin’ dirty about me, ma’am?”

The way in which your eyes widened coquettishly at the accusation had Toji’s heart beating just a bit more erratically. Like a fawn, he thinks. All that was missing on you was a white, cottony tail.

“If I said something dirty, It would have been in a language you could understand.” Finally, you take the last bite off your dish as well. Hopefully that means dinner is officially over; Toji has been craving dessert since he stepped foot in your house and got showered in ‘welcome back’ gifts. “I’m not the type of woman easily embarrassed by my sexuality. I thought you would have picked that up by now.”

He persists. “What are you embarrassed by?”

“Toji.” His name is spoken sharply, a verbal warning that he was tiptoeing the line. Threatening to shatter that layer of thin ice he stood upon. This is what he’s been needing. This is what he’s been fucking needing.

“I’ve been thinking about you, ma’am.” Any semblance of a filter is long gone, melted by the sheer heat of his desire. His limbs feel heavy, hands tumbling into his lap. They rest on the wide surface area of sweatpant-clad thighs, just sitting there. Feeling himself. “This entire week, I’ve been thinking.”

You seem to get the implications of his confession. “In a sexual way?”

“Yeah.” That’s a white lie. To be truthful was to admit that the sexual thoughts Toji let himself think about you were the minority. Objectifying you in the depths of his mind wasn't enough. He thought about your breasts, sure. He thought about your curves, and your ass, and your mouth, and every other body part that would grant him pleasure. But that wasn’t enough for Toji. Fixations of his tended to lead him astray from fantasies, instead breaching carefully saved memories stored within his brain catalog. When he touched himself, it was more or less to remembrances of mundane tasks you’d dealt him in the past. All the times you had bestowed little gifts and knick knacks on a whim just because they reminded you of him. Or when you drag him to the outlets with you for a shopping spree and he’ll act miserable the entire time, but you both knew it was a horribly crafted facade. Or even, like now, when you’d treat him to dinner because you worry over him and his eating schedule. The little things really counted; a revelation that scared Toji shitless, so he opted to ignore those budding, foreign feelings and replace it with familiarity: lust.

“Toji, honey, are you alright?”

What? His breathing pattern was off kilter, and the muscles of his jaw flexed unconsciously. When had he started palming himself? His right hand had grown a mind of its own apparently, because when Toji stole a glance downward, there it was; kneading roughly at the bulge between his meaty thighs. How desperate was he? To go dormant like that, so consumed with the thought of you that he began to instinctually masturbate himself not even five feet away from where you sit. And why… Why wasn’t he stopping?

“Can we fuck now?”

“Oh.” You barely look shocked. Not the slightest bit appalled like he expected you to be. Instead, slide off a ring that took purchase wrapped around your middle finger. A sigh escapes you as you place the band on the table. “I still have more to ask you. I wanted to know how your work trip went.”

Toji shakes his head, something akin to a toddler trying to get fed vegetables. “No.”

“No?”

“I don’t wanna talk about work.”

“Why not?” You frown, leaning forward against the tabletop. “Was it bad?”

He knows what you’re doing. Trying to make him spill any details about his job. Well, he won’t give in.

A heavy sigh slithers out hoarsely from the deepest part of his lungs, and Toji presses his palms to the table, pushing himself up. He stands tall, much like the tent at his crotch, and slinks along the roundness of the dinner table, walking his fingertips across the top all the while. “I don’t want to talk,” he reiterates, breathy and abrasive.

Finally, Toji stands before you. Still, you are seated, unbothered by the towering man’s presence. No, you’re swirling your wine glass sophisticatedly, lips pursed into a narrow line. Like you’re the slightest bit irritated with his persistent defiance.

God, you won't even look at him.

Or maybe, you were never irritated at all. Toji cops a second glance to your lips, finding the faintest ghost of a frown. “You’ve been acting so… so removed. Ever since you left.” Now you’re looking at him; Toji shudders under the intense fire that billows behind your eyes, wide and wetted with worry. “I want you to feel like you can tell me things. I want your trust, Toji.”

You have his trust. Every last crumb of it resides in the palm of your soft hand.

“... And I know that it’s stupid—I’m stupid for wanting that from you. I know what this relationship is, and I know that there are these unspoken boundaries, but I—I can’t—”

It was the first time he’d ever heard you speak with such a volatile expression. There was a tremble of uncertainty in your vocal chords, carrying into the skittish dialogue that tumbled out in rambles. Something about such a show of pity from you, his Y/n, made his guts churn like butter. He can’t listen to this any more. With swiftness, Toji dives down to press his mouth against yours, swallowing the words that die on your tongue. One hand grips the back of your chair, the other holds the roundness of your cheek. He feels your gasp, feels the way your shoulders jolt in surprise, but he doesn’t release you.

This was really only his second instance of kissing you. The first had been in his bed, with his groin pressed to yours, tongue fighting its way to the back of your throat with greedy fervor. This second kiss was anything but greedy, though. Despite the ache that roiled at the base of his stomach, Toji didn’t serve you a kiss that reflected his desire. Tongues never met and spit was never swapped; just lips on glossed lips.

At last, Toji reluctantly peels away. Lipstick residue feels heavy on his mouth, and he knows he probably looks foolish donning remnants of your dark lip lacquer, but he doesn’t move to wipe his skin. The circular bottom of the wine glass clinks as you clumsily set it down, freeing your hands. They branch upwards, finding his face. A pair of thumbs rub the sensitive pads of flesh beneath his eyes, massaging out those ugly, darkened bags that have accumulated as a result of many sleepless nights. It feels orgasmic, the way you handle him.

“I trust you.” The words are out in the air before he has time to think.

You brighten, sunshine hiding in the crevices of your smile. “You mean that?” You ask him, hands petting down the sides of his neck.

He meant it wholeheartedly. The amount of trust left within Toji was scarce. Too many bad people fucked him for life; showed him the meaning of the phrase ‘trust is earned.’ So it really fucking freaked him out how quickly you came to earn it. A little over a year-–that’s how long he’s known you—you’ve have plenty of time to fuck him over. To batter him. And yet, you haven’t. All you’ve ever shown him was kindness and consideration and warmth and everything else Toji never knew how bad he was thirsty for.

“Wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

“I trust you, too, Toji.”

He wonders if he deserves that. Because really, what has given you besides his annoyingly closed-off dickhead attitude? He provides fuck all, but you still stick around.

Toji doesn’t say anything. He swoops once more, capturing your lips in a hungrier kiss than before. All the playful innocence is tossed aside, forgotten in lieu of Toji’s devastatingly furious need to consume you. Tongues finally greet each other in a spittle-slicked tango; he dominates yours with ease, worming behind your teeth just to collect your sweet flavor. Wine, he thinks. You taste like your goddamn expensive ass wine.

He feels feverish. One-track minded, hyper fixated on you. On your crossed legs underneath the table. “Fuck,” Toji breathes into your mouth, sucking on your bottom lip.

Your hand clashes against the hard wall of his chest, patting it softly. A wordless signal that you need some air, so he retracts. “Let’s go to the bedroom.”

The plea goes in one ear and falls right out the other. Toji leeches against your neck, dragging the flat of his wet tongue over that little throbbing pulse point. His teeth grate against your flawless skin, completely none the wiser that you’re even talking to him. You thwack the back of his head, and he lurches into the crook of your shoulder, muffling a groan.

“No marks, I’ve got work.”

His eyes roll, face still burrowed against you. He couldn’t give less of a shit about your job right now.

“Come on, let’s go to my room.” “Gimme a sec.” He’s still licking below your jaw, making his way down. This stupidly lavish house had been cursed with three levels, your bedroom holed up at the very top floor. Like hell Toji was going to part ways with your glorious body so you two could safely make it up the two ridiculous staircases. Fuck that.

“Toji, I’m… serious…” Your raucous pants of anticipation suggest otherwise. Toji has sunken to his knees, crawling beneath the table and finding a home on the floor before your seat. His kneecaps scream in discomfort as they pin heavily to the wooden floorboards, but Toji bears the pain well ( he’d always been somewhat of a masochist ). Your legs are still crossed, one knee hinging over the other.

“Open these.” Two calloused hands cuff around the thinnest parts of either ankle. Your legs were conspicuously smooth; did you shave for him? There is an attempt at delicacy when Toji pries your legs apart, and it makes you giggle.

“Here?” You laugh more. Toji suspects you’re patronizing him in a way. “I haven’t even cleared the table. Are you really so impatient?”

And here Toji thought he exercised his patience well. He didn’t jump your bones the second of his arrival. No, he waited like a good boy until after dinner. “I’ve waited for this the whole week.” Restless hands walk up those porcelain calves, strong and lean from working in high heels. They wander up, hooking beneath the junctures of your knees; Toji uses his celestial strength to his advantage, maneuvering both legs with ease until he’s got them resting comfortably over his broad shoulders. Toji turns, cocks his head to give a serpentine lick to the inside of your thigh. Then a bite. “Don’t make me wait any longer. I’ll fucking die.”

You peer down at him. “Don’t talk like that.” You feel yourself. Small hands groping your chest, sliding lower and lower. “You’re not going to die.”

His mouth feels sticky, like there’s a spoonful of honey under his tongue. “I might.”

Your heel drives into his upper back, an impish little warning that makes him throb all over. “Don’t talk like that, I said.” Those manicured hands have garnered Toji’s full attention. They descend all the way to the hem of your luxurious dress, wrenching into its hem. It’s the sexiest sight Toji had ever seen: you pulling your dress up with the quickness of a sloth, inching the fabric up until it scrunches around the dip of your waistline.

“These are hot,” he murmurs, thumbing the waistband of the scarlet panties. They were tight, sinking into the ample pudge of your hips and soft tummy. So fucking beautiful, he thinks, the contrast between deep red lace and the flesh of which it lays upon. The perfect, little present gift wrapped in a low-rise lace thong. “Bet they cost a pretty penny.”

You spare a breathy exhale through your nostrils. “I don’t look at price tags when I buy things for you.”

You bought these just for him? “You spoil me.”

“You deserve to get spoiled, baby.”

He is so mind numbingly turned on. Sickening tendrils of appetence bleed into his vision, his lust coils around his limbs and guide his movements like a marionette. Toji thumbs your—his—panties to the side, soaking in the sight of that pretty pussy he’s longed to be back inside of since the moment he pulled out. His face is close, so fucking close that he can feel warmth radiate off your core and deepen his flush.

Perhaps this is how he begins his journey of repayment. Ever indebted to you, despite your odd relationship being a mutually agreed upon situation, Toji fears you’ve truly altered him. For the better or worse he isn’t sure yet; all he knows is that you make him feel good. Better than he’s felt in fucking ages. You said he deserves to get spoiled? Well so do you, too.

Toji eats you with erotic vigor, delving into the deepest parts of your cunt with his lascivious tongue. He’ll be the first to admit that he doesn’t possess many skills. He isn’t terribly smart, nor is he gifted with great conversational skills like you. He isn't good at holding a real job. Isn’t very good at expressing himself. Not good at abiding by the law, or staying sober, either. But if ever there was an artistry in which Toji had full confidence he had mastered, it was oral sex.

“Oh, Toji,” you gasped, forcing his face deeper with a hand on the back of his skull. “Right there.”

Toji dug you out, excavating your hole with expertise. One hand slipped up beneath your dress, under your bra, pawing at your breast whilst the other busied itself in his pants. He stroked himself to the heady taste of pussy, fanning your clit with hot puffs of breath. You writhe against his open mouth, hips dancing, hands grabbing.

It’s more enjoyable like this, Toji thinks briefly. To not expect a wad of bills afterward in exchange for his velvet tongue. He eats you for leisure, because he wants to, and because you want him, and no other reason. It’s enough that you both need each other.

Toji groans loosely when you yank his hair, getting off on the way you move his head to your liking. “Suck my clit,” you instruct quietly, and he obliges with upmost obedience, nose nuzzling against the tuft of hair at your pubic bone.

Toji opens his eyes for the first time in a while, then thanks God he did. You look something like a goddess, celestial and righteous in the way your body works against his face. Using him to cure an insatiable desperation, with your lids screwed shut and head tossed back on your shoulders. “Are you gonna cum?” He sits up on his haunches a little taller, a little more alert now to fully experience your orgasm. “Cum in my mouth.”

He begs for it. Begs like a little bitch. Over and over again, mumbling the mantra between rough suctions to your swollen clit. Begging wasn’t like him. His father beat the beggar out of him many years ago, said it was weak to yearn for things so badly. The old man was right, Toji has never felt weaker than he does right now, knelt under the table with his head between your thighs.

“Oh my God.” Your voice is strained thin, each syllable pulled taught. The vice grip on his roots start to sting, follicles ripping from the scalp, but doesn’t tell you to stop. “Toji, fuck you’re so good.”

He’s good.

“You’re so good.”

“Mmn.” He squeezes himself, chokes his dick hard. Toji feels it when you cum. Warmth floods the cavern of his slack mouth, gushing and creamy. You fall silent, stunned by the force of your orgasm he presumes. Toji licks you through your high, guzzling down every drop of wetness that seeps from your spasming slit. It’s hot and gushy and messy; cum dribbles past his lips, collecting in beads that roll down his tensing neck.

Only when you blindly push at his face does Toji part ways with your center, leaning past your trembling hand to nuzzle into your stomach. It’s concave with an ongoing exhale; he nips at your navel. “Breathe.”

“Toji,” you whisper. On the come down, you’re a lot nicer; those needy, grabbing hands of yours now stroked down the tangled mess of his damp shag. He presses a handful of sloppy smooches above your belly button.

The erection trapped in the confines of his pants twitch at the dreadfully angelic drawl of his name. “Good?” His question is gruff and pointless as ever; anyone with eyes could tell you just had the most Earth-shattering orgasm of your life.

Your head lolls forward, rolling down to face him. Fingertips brush his chin, collecting the sticky residuals that dampened his stubble. You take your lower lip in between teeth when you bring those same soaked digits to Toji’s open mouth. He doesn’t resist you. Fingers are welcomed; he unhinges his jaw, baring the same holy tongue that just drove you to Heaven. You wipe cum-ridden fingers against the muscle, and Toji clamps around them in a vacuum-esque suction, looking up at you through dark lashes all the while. Your thumb traces the raised flesh on his upper lip. That ugly, jagged scar.

He catches your wrist when you move to flee his mouth, holding you in place. Sucking on you, touching himself along the way. Lapping between fingers, tonguing the thin web of skin there.

“So good, baby boy.” There’s the praise he craved, the praise he played oblivious to get. You claw deeper, jutting towards the back of his throat, pulling a scratchy gag from the man. What kind of fetish was this? You made everything sexy, even whatever this humiliation ritual was; watching him choke down slippery fingers with fat tears bleeding at his waterline. “You are so beautiful, Toji.”

“—oh en nah,” or no I’m not had there not been a barrier blocking his teeth from touching. Toji knows he’s an aged man, one riddled with scars and wounds and bruises and gauges and what have you. His skin is nowhere near perfect, baring disgusting reminders of what he does—who he is. Beautiful is what he’d call someone like you. Someone calm and serene, humble and kind. You’re a beautiful sight, and you’re also the complete and utter opposite of him.

“You are.” He wanted to be inside you for this. Toji had been daydreaming this scenario over and out in his head over the long haul of the week, going through the motions of his plan to fuck you. He’d give you everything tenfold, a barbaric fucking unlike your first time together. He imagined finally showing you his version of things, bending you over the couch first thing and blowing his load deep into your cunt.

Toji choked again, and a single thick tear fell from his lashes. You whispered sweet prayers, holding his face, wiping his eyes, fucking his mouth with fingers that tasted of your cum. It was a damn mystery how you rendered him so fucking pitiful, to be nutting on his knees into his boxers like this. A damn mystery.

His breaths are ragged when he explodes, hand and cock obscured by the sweatpants that sat low around his hips. Toji doesn’t stop pumping, tugging the shaft with long, hard strokes, wringing himself dry. Dark eyes weld shut, and he collapses against your thigh with a quake of exhaustion. Toji doesn’t know when you withdrew your fingers; the only tell that gave it away was the string of saliva that slapped coldly against his chin in the wake of your removal. He mewls, a graveling sound that sounds as if his voice box had been dragged through a sea of razor blades.

“You alright?”

A flowery hand slithers beneath his damp cheek, and suddenly his heavy head is being lifted. Toji is forced to meet your soft gaze; adoration brims in your eyes, as though you’re proud of him for creaming in his briefs like some flimsy virgin.

“Answer me, please.”

Toji smacks his mouth, preparing for his voice to project broken and fragmented. “I’m fine.” He could do without the pity; you were cautious to a fault. He wasn’t made of glass.

“You’re filthy.”

He grumbles, feigning grumpiness and averting his eyes off to the side. “I just had your pussy in my mouth.”

You bend at the waist, leaning down to meet him for a kiss. Toji melts against you, cradling your face with his semen-stained hand. You don’t seem to mind the wetness. He’s pouting against your mouth, childlike. “I wanted to cum inside you.”

You latch onto his nose, nibbling the point. “Let’s go clean up.” There’s a telling smile etched onto your lips, and your mouth finds his ear. Whispering ever so sensually, “I have a big shower in my bedroom.”

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briefalpacashark · 8 months ago

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~Saviour~

Warning: Hospitals, near death, violence, blood. Graphic descriptions.

Synopsis: when a mission goes south you save your 141 boys.

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Life had a way of throwing shit at you. Giving you a curveball that often cleaved through your life.

This day was no different.

You sat in the med bay. Blood and dirt caked your hands all the way up to your elbows. Your breath was erratic as your left hand clasped and unclasped. Your right arm was numb laid limply on your knee. You glanced at it, unsure why it wasn't moving. Your hand was hidden by a glove that looked a little big to be yours. Were you wearing gloves? You couldn't remember. Your eyes set on the door in front of you. The doors which behind held your squad. The nurses and doctors who rushed around sent brief worried glances at you, but you would simply wave them off. You could only see the blood on your arms. You couldn't see the blood that covered your shirt and down the right side of your face.

Flashes of what happened played on a taunting replay in your head.

It was supposed to be just a simple routine check on one of the outreach bases. Your team was accompanied by about thirty others. You remembered sitting with your squad as Price gave out some simple orders. You remembered smiling brightly at the boys as they cracked a joke.

You remembered feeling the first drops of rain when it happened. You took notice of the water dripping from your body onto the cheap plastic chair as you closed your eyes. You were as wet as a drowned rat. You weren't really sure how it happened. There was an explosion. There were other soldiers, not dressed like you. It was an attack. You were the furthest from the explosion. You remember seeing your squad scattered around? Price and Ghost were the only other ones who recovered consciousness. They went down faster than you could comprehend. Ghost, because of another explosion and due to a loss of blood, a bullet cleaved through his collarbone. Jonny's lung was collapsing and Gaz was unresponsive. You could name every other injury your squad sustained. You had it all listed in your head. Every scratch and laceration. You remembered treating them amid the chaos. You remembered dragging them each to the rally point where they were packed into a chopper and taken to safety. You remembered regurgitating that information up to the doctors. When your mind was done with that, it started replaying what you had done to treat their injuries. Had you done it properly? You followed through your steps, trying desperately to piece them all together.

You couldn't. It was all a jumbled mess. You mind was a jumbled mess.

You weren't allowed in the operating rooms; you weren't qualified. You remembered being pulled out by someone. You remember trying to fight against their arms, but they were too strong. And now you were there. Sitting alone in an empty hall.

As the adrenalin started to run out, you finally noticed the ringing in your head. The numbness up your right arm. With everything you felt, you diagnosed yourself with a concussion, a bad one and possible shock. You didn't know how long you had sat there. Yet when a doctor approached you, your clothes were dry.

"You can see them now. They're all awake and in bay seven," he said, gesturing you in the room. Nodding, you mumbled out a thank you as you walked into the room and noticed that you had a slight limp.

"Heeeyyyyyy. There's our medic. Finally decided to show up and do your job, huh?" your eyes first found Jonny’s. He sat upright in the hospital bed with a bright smile on the right. Ghost and Gaz stood next to Price, in a bed of his own, looking pretty good on the left. You had to give it to modern medicine. It was extraordinary.

"Damn girl, you look like shit," Gaz commented, making everyone in the room chuckle. You chuckled as well as you took them all in. Took in the open eyes and smiles.

They were alright.

"Sorry. Haven't had time for a shower. But I still smell better than Jonny," you said, earning chuckles from them.

"You got a bit of a limp there. You alright kid?" Price groggy voice came from the bed. His shoulder was wrapped up something fierce.

"I'm alright sir. My arms a little banged up. How about you, huh?" you asked.

They were all alive and safe.

"I'm alright. A little disappointed you weren't doing your job, though. But I had a cute doctor so I'm not complaining," Price cracking a joke. A rare but welcome thing.

"Nah, the doctors wouldn't let me in. I don't have the right credentials apparently," you said, feeling something building behind your eyes.

"What a load of shit," Jonny said.

"But you're all ok right?" you asked, your voice shaky as you gripped your sleeve.

"We're fine. A little beatenand bruised, but we're out of the woods," Gaz commented. You weren't able to hold the small sob that escaped your lips.

"That's good. That's good," you said, reaching your hand up to cover the sob with a cough. Yet you couldn't hold back the tears that quickly started to pour from your eyes. The relief you were feeling was too much. The worry and fear that had been suffocating you had lifted, finally letting you breathe. It seemed like the whole time you had been waiting was like being underwater. And with their words, you were finally able to gasp for air.

They were ok.

"Sargent?" Price questioned hesitant looks being passed around the room.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, wiping the tears away.

"Oh come on short stack. These little scratches aren't worth crying over." your squad wasn't sure what to do. They didn't really cry. It was something that was strange to them, so they weren't sure how they should react to you doing just that.

"It's just. God. You idiots really worried me, you know. And now you fuckers got me crying. God. It seems like I really love you guys," you sniffled as you whispered that last part to yourself. Not well enough though. They had each heard it.

"Aw come on. Now. You're gonna make me blush," Jonny’s comment had you laughing as you whipped your nose.

"You better consider yourselves important. I don't just cry for anyone you know," you calmed yourself, your cries settling into only tears and a brief quiver of your voice.

"Come on now, Sargent. Straighten yourself out. And for god's sake, have a shower," Price said with a warm smile. You nodded with a smile.

"Yes sir," you took one last look around the room before turning to leave.

You didn't get far. Your legs didn't seem to get the plan. Your knees buckled slightly, but you were able to keep yourself up.

"Come on," you whispered, straightening up. You weren't on your feet for more than two seconds before you tumbled to the ground.

"Y/N!" As you lay on the cold ground you felt yourself being flipped over. Those who could stand had rushed to you. Then nothing.

Your squad watched all in pure worry as Ghost lifted you onto a spare bed. They yelled for a doctor.

"What's wrong with her?" A doctor who had been yanked into the room asked, taking a torch and shining it in your eyes.

"She just collapsed," Gaz said.

"She's got a concussion," he started.

"She said there was something else with her arm too," Ghost added. Jonny stood waddling over to you. The doctor pulled your left sleeves up to see if there was anything wrong. Seeing nothing, he moved to the right. Pulling the sleeve up, he pauses in slight shock. Your skin was blistered and bleeding with four-degree burns.

"I need nurses here now!" he yelled. He hurried, cutting your shirt sleeves going higher and higher to see the burns all the way up your arm and shoulder. Underneath were the remnants of a burnt shirt. You had put the glove on to get a better grip of whatever you were handling, your hand having become a blistered mess. A few nurses rushed into the room, starting to set up monitors. One nurse cut open your undershirt and paused.

"Doctor," she explained. All attention was pulled down to your stomach. Deep Purple coloring had spread across your abdominal area.

"She's bleeding internally. Get the surgery ready! Let's go!" your squad watched on in shock as the nurse hurriedly ushered your bed out of the room.

Price sat upright in his bed, waiting. They all were. A young private rushed into the room.

"Sir, here's the footage you asked for," he rushed forward holding out a tablet to the Captain. Silently, he pressed play. Everyone watched in shock as they saw the attack play out. They saw you. Dazed and in pain as you took in your burnt arm. They watched your worry quickly shift to them. They saw you pulling them each to safety. Saving them. They saw you get struck in the stomach by an airborne piece of debris. They saw you covered them with your body as more explosions rang out. They saw you come back for each and every one of them even when people held you back.

"How long ago did we get in?" Price asked.

"About a day and a half, sir," the private stated.

"So you're telling me. One of my men sat out in that hall for a day and a half with no medical attention?" Price asked, gripping the tablet tightly. The poor lad nearly shit himself when he felt the glares of all four men fall upon him.

"Sir, the attack borough in a flux of patients," the young soldier wasn't able to finish his response when Price shoved the table back into his chest.

"Then why the hell was she alone in the attack?" he asked. The private eyes darted around nervously. Even if her team had gone down, there were other soldiers around. Where were they? Why haden’t they helped you?

"You were all in a danger zone. We had established a protective line. We were given orders to stay behind it," he muttered.

"So you fuckers were gonna leave us there?" Jonny asked in anger. The private cast his eyes down in shame. They now understood why people were holding you back. You were going against orders to save their lives.

Most of the squad was discarded and getting dressed when a doctor walked into the room, his eyes cast down at his tablet.

"Who's the dick that demanded I personally report a medical condition when I have a whole base full of patients?" the doctor was pissed. When he pulled his eyes from his tablet and took in the inhabitants of the room he gulped quickly changing up his tone.

"How is she?" Price asked.

"Well, she had severe internal bleeding. We patched that up though. She had a few broken ribs. Her arm had four-degree burns. She has a concussion and a slight fracture to the skull. She's going to heal up fine with time but her arm will be permanently scarred. She's unconscious right now. And it might be a few hours before she's out of the woods," he quickly reported your condition. He looked hesitant building up the courage to get the last bit of information out.

"What else?" he asked.

"Her heart stopped beating halfway through the operation. Only for a few seconds though. We were able to resuscitate her with the deliberator," he added. The boy's mouths went dry.

Your squad all stood at the window to your room. You were bandaged up like a mummy, a breathing tube stuck in your mouth. Two nurses shuffled around you attending to bits and pieces. Dread, utter dread seeped into their bodies as they took you in. As reality set in.

The team was a mess after that. At all times, you had at least one of them in your room. Cards and flowers piled up on your bedside table moving to encompass the little corner of the room. As soon as the doctor told him that talking to you might help you come out of the coma quicker, he was unstoppable. Jonny would constantly come in, talking nonstop about anything and everything. Gaz would sometimes bring you your favorite snacks wafting the scent over to you in hopes it would wake you up. Price would pop in every morning before breakfast and every afternoon before dinner, demanding a full report of your status. And Ghost would simply sit by your bed. Scared half the nursed shitless to see him looping finger and skull mask walking about at night.

And they were mad. Price nearly got half the nurses and doctors fired. Those he didnt mange to get fired were transferred.

It was a week before you woke up. You were in a slight daze. Your vision blurry as you took in your painful limbs. After the doctor and nurses checked up on you, you sat upright in bed. They had told you the extent of your injuries. And you were still feeling a bit drowsy.

A nurse had just left from checking your vitals when you heard a thunder of footsteps. Then you saw them. Your squad all fumble into the room. Relieved and happy smiles spread over their faces as they all clambered around your small bed.

You couldn't really remember what they were saying. After all, they were all talking over each other. What you do remember was the looks they gave you. Looks of utter application and relief. And a newfound respect.

"Sargent," they all went silent as Price entered the room.

"Sir," you nodded.

"We saw what you did for us," he said, simply unsure how to proceed with the following words. How do you thank someone for saving your life?

"What I did?" you mumbled in confusion. "What did I do?" you chuckled playfully. Your squad looked over your carefree smile.

"You don't remember?" Ghost asked.

"Not really. I remember we were attacked. Seems like I was pretty fucked. Let me guess, you guys saved my ass huh?" you asked playfully. You really couldn't remember what had happened. It was all a blur. The doctor mentioned you might have some amnesia.

"You did well, Y/N. You did good," Price said, extending his hand out to you. You let out a huff of a chuckle confused by his words but shook his hand nonetheless. The boys would later tell you what had happened but you just shock it off thinking they just wanted to make you feel better.

As you recovered, they harassed the doctors and nurses hanging over their shoulders and constantly asking what they were doing. And you healed.

Ghost would find himself constantly training to keep his mind off his worry for you. Yet halfway through every workout or exercise, his worry would get the better of him. It brought a smile to your face when he would walk in. He would chat and talk, as much as Ghost could, always checking that you had everything you needed. He was also the one the nurses hated the most. Now Ghost wasn't dumb, but he certainly didn’t really understand all the medical mumbo jumbo, as he called it. So when anything beeped, or he noticed something that looked weird, he would press the nurse call button and ask what it was. You found the concern cute but annoying sometimes. A welcome annoyance, though.

After a certain amount of medication, you felt sleep pulling at you. Ghost, noticing your heart rate slowing down, slightly reached for the nurse call button.

"It's fine, Simon," you spoke up through half-closed eyes.

"Then why is the beeping thing slowing down?" he asked, gesturing to the machine as he pulled a chair up to sit beside your bed.

"Your heart rate slows when you go to sleep. Which the current medication is doing," you explained with a small smile.

"Huh," he hummed, settling down in the chair.

"What's on your mind, big guy? You're usually jumpy today," you questioned lazily, waving your arm out to him. Not bothering to bring it back to the bed, you let it dangle off the side.

"The doc said something about a bleed somewhere," he shrugged gently, taking your hand and going to tuck it back under the sheets. Instead, you grasped hold of his pinky, holding it tightly.

"I popped open a stitch, it's fine, it's fixed, see," you said, waving your other damaged hand where a small cut lay underneath the bandage.

"What? You worried about little old me?" you asked with a small smirk, your eyelids drooping.

"Always love," he grinned back, moving his hand to completely engulf yours. You looked over his gentle eye. The honesty in his eyes. He had called your love before. It was always in a playful tone. But that time. The word sounded so different. It sounded sincere.

"Is the big bad Ghost actually saying something sincere?" you asked playfully.

"Yeah well, don't get used to it," he shrugged, going to pull his hand back, but you held tightly onto it. He propped an eyebrow questioning.

"Thank you for being here. It means a lot," you whispered.

"Well, it's the least I can do. And while we're on the topic of thanking. I wanted to thank you for everything," he avoided your gaze as he spoke, having to clear his that afterward.

“I'm the medic, it's my job,” you stated simply.

“Yeah, well you gotta stay alive to do ya job,” he mumbled, his gaze focused on your intertwined hands, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing the back of your palm. Flashes of the cold panic reverberated in his mind. The fear that threatened to swallow him when he saw you being wheeled out of the room. The dread that squeezed his lungs so painfully he thought he might have a collapsed lung himself.

“Don't tell me what to do,” you joked playfully. His shoulders did their little jump chuckle thing as he returned his gaze to yours. The warmth you held in your eyes. The warmth that spread through you as he gazed at you so sincerely. You had to admit it now. You were smitten with the lieutenant. Perhaps it was the drugs making you feel truthful. It was definitely the drugs that had you reaching up. Ghost frowned as your hand placed itself at the base of your mask. A pleasant shiver ran down his spine as your fingers dived under the mask trailing up to cup his cheek. Your smile widened as you felt the tickle of a stubble on your palm.

“I knew it. I knew you had a stubble. Jonny owes me a tenner,” you whispered softly, your thumb brushing the skin feeling a scar or two. Ghost found himself placing his hand over your own, moving his lips to press them into your palm. The kiss so tender as it lingered on your skin.

"You know. I'm gonna make you my Misso," now you were sure it was the drugs that had you speaking like that, but at that moment you didn't care. Because only a second after you pulled your hand back, Simons fell with yours as he held it again. Only a second after you had fallen into a deep sleep, your hand still clasped around Ghosts.

A very confused Simon glanced over at your heart monitor before signing deeply.

"What the fuck is a misso?" he asked himself.

Price would come by later to see how you were, only to stop in the doorway. Simon lay propped up on the bed beside you, sleeping peacefully. Your hands still intertwined.

With a small knowing smile, he turned around and closed the door behind him.

================================================

--Cod master list here--

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#141 x reader #141 x you #cod 141 #cod ghost #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #task force 141 #tf 141 #simon riley x reader #cod

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noveauskull · 5 months ago

Note

Reader, jiyan and Geshu lin daughter bringing her boyfriend to meet their parents. OVERPROTECTIVE DADS ALERT❗❗❗

Jiyan & Geshu Lin With Your Daughter As Her Father(s)! (SFW)

"Mom, Dads, this is my boyfriend"

You watched your daughter introduce your two husbands, Geshu Lin and Jiyan, to her boyfriend that you had already heard about a few days ago.

Naturally you had to be the calmer parent, cause you knew that Geshu Lin and Jiyan would be taking on the task of going bonkers over their daughter growing up so fast, to the point she has found someone to be with.

Even worse, your daughter could take inspiration from your love life, and might just date more than one boy! Now the anxiety really hits.

You glanced at both of your sides, on your right was Jiyan, and on your left was Geshu Lin. Both men sitting on each side of the couch with their eyes locking in with the younger male individual, they clearly were not pleased.

"He works as an intern at the hospital, aiming to be a nurse there, and his parents have respectable jobs too! His mom is a teacher and his dad is a lawyer! And he can play 3 instruments! Isn't he talented?"

Your daughter boasted over her boyfriend. You watched the young man blush at her words and scratch his nape, telling her to not shower him with too much praise over something he was simply born with.

You let out an awkward smile. You already knew the boy was a total sweetheart, he was respectful, and even offered to help you when you had to clean the dishes.

Even better, he asked to bring home some of the dishes you cooked on your first meeting, you can't imagine your daughter being with any other guy than him, because you were already a hundred percent supportive of their relationship.

"A teacher, lawyer, and nurse? Your family must be very rich" Geshu Lin said, smiling at the boy, but for some reason, it didn't feel friendly at all.

"A-Ah yes, their jobs do help them earn a lot of money, especially when they've been doing those jobs for a long time" The boyfriend said, stuttering when he saw Geshu Lin's smile drop the moment he spoke.

"That's good then, at least our daughter has someone to buy her all the jewelry and clothes she wants" Jiyan nodded, however he wasn't smiling one bit.

"..."

The room went silent, all you did was take a small sip of the tea you prepared. Glancing at the two men beside you with their cold eyes glaring daggers onto the poor boy's head.

Before you knew it, it was only you and your daughter doing all the talking, the 3 men in the room barely had anything to say, but Geshu Lin and Jiyan seemed very calm, so you didn't do anything to disturb their thought process.

Once it was getting late, you bid your daughter's boyfriend goodbye, watching your daughter plant a kiss onto her boyfriend's cheek before he left as you closed the door.

"Well I think that went well" You said, smiling at your daughter who seemed very happy about today's performance.

"Yeah! Dads' were super chill about it too" The two of you laughed together, heading to the living room to watch TV.

What you two didn't realize though, was that the two men that were usually at home wasn't around, you were just too relieved to even notice that the two were outside the house, both standing beside your daughter's boyfriend.

"Make sure you treat my daughter very well, she doesn't like guys with no sense" Geshu Lin said, his arm wrapped around the boyfriend's neck, earning a nod from the boy who was awkwardly smiling at him.

"And don't forget to tell us everything you're doing with her, that includes where you are going, what you are eating, why are you going out with her, and when will you pick her up and drop her, don't leave any details either" Jiyan added, his arms crossed.

This continued on for an hour before they heard you calling for them, noticing that they haven't been around the house for a while.

And this is the nicest behavior the two gave towards the boyfriend, just know, if things ever goes south, the poor boy would definitely face his consequences if anything happened to their daughter.

-----

A/N: Hope this scenario was good enough! Ty for the request! 👐👐

#wuthering waves #wuwa #jiyan #wuwa jiyan #geshu lin #wuwa geshu lin #wuthering waves fluff #wuwa fluff #wuthering waves headcanons #wuthering waves x you #wuthering waves x reader #geshu lin x reader #jiyan x reader #jiyan x you

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murdrdocs · 7 months ago

Text

lots of scent talk? fingering; foursome; MDNI 18+ w/ ART DONALDSON & PATRICK ZWEIG & TASHI DUNCAN

the hotel room is victim to a stiff heat unlike anything you've ever felt before. you've been privy to the heat that comes with matches in the south, and you're well aware of what happens when the AC decides to break in the tiny hotel rooms they've put you in.

but this heat is different. it's uncomfortable, yes, but that makes you want it more. it has a stench, strong to the point where it's loud. it blares in your face, almost taking your attention off of them. almost.

you're surrounded by their bodies, the heat of the room radiating off of them. there's a different heat to all of them. unique in ways that will implement itself into your mind to be called on later.

art has a cleanliness to him. he's warm, burning up when you touch his face, ears, and neck. but he's sturdy. he's desperate, pulling your leg over his hip as he grinds his crotch into yours. his boner presses into you almost awkwardly. it's maneuvered by art's hips, and eventually, it lays flat against you through his gingham boxers after some effort. you have your legs spread as far as they can go, welcoming the heat of art's dick against the taunt crotch of your panties. when he's not kissing you, he's breathing into you. this is supposed to be foreplay, but art's getting off to it. his forehead rests against yours and his nose is slotted right up against yours as he breathes onto you. he breathes with you. he breathes into you, releasing air into your awaiting mouth.

every so often, he'll stick his tongue out and probe it into your mouth, maybe swipe it along your bottom lip. eventually, you catch his tongue with your lips, puckering them around the muscle until you have a good enough grip to suck. your head even starts bobbing as if you're sucking him off. and this gets art. he grinds into you with more fervor. he groans low in the back of his throat in the way that he does when you've helped him roll out a particularly tense part of his body.

you have to slow him down from cumming too soon by bringing your bent leg up between you both, nudging your knee cap into his chest. one of his big hands pushes your leg out from between you both, and then he goes in. he doesn't wait, he doesn't hesitate, and it's only through the jesting coming from beside you that he stops. you take your lips from around his tongue and he keeps the muscle there for a second, suspended in air, before he licks his lips and finally closes his mouth.

and then comes the heat from patrick. this heat is similar to the one in the hotel room, likely the largest contributor. stiff, a strong stench. he's musky in the way that says he isn't completely well groomed, but it works for him. his musk is one of money. you can smell it on him—the hints of cologne still not washed off, the smell of fabric softener you likely cannot and will not get in the aisles of a regular grocery store, the waft of hair products that smell just clean enough. it all works to barely mask the musk from his skin, the smell of sweat working against deodorant and everything else included.

patrick kisses at your neck first, burying his nose behind your ear as his hand slides over your collarbones and latches onto the other side of your neck. he pulls you closer to him. he grips the side of your neck, digging his fingertips into the flesh, bringing his thumb around front and clutching. he holds you and you like it. your back arches and you don't have to be told to turn your head, but patrick directs you anyway.

his hand is warm when it slides up to your cheek. he sandwiches your face, pressing four of his fingers into one cheek and his thumb into the other. he pulls you towards him, bringing you to the heat of his mouth. there isn't any hesitance before he has his tongue pressing against yours, your tongues sliding together from the tips to as far back as you can reach.

there comes a moment where patrick, likely driven by his need to be as close to you as possible, nudges his tongue a little too far back. he slides it along the top of your mouth, running it along the ridges, and then he presses into the back of your tongue, almost triggering your gag reflex. you jerk as if he had and try to move back, but patrick holds you still. he eases up a bit, ceasing his almost never ending addition of saliva onto your mouth.

art has stilled a bit between your legs, but he's still fidgety. he has his fingers tapping against your knees and eventually, without much warning at all, they stop. your eyes are closed, lost in bliss of patrick giving you yet another prideful mark, but you open them to the sound of kissing. you see tashi attached to art. she has her hands on his face, pulling him away from you. he leaves the space between your legs empty as he crawls over to tashi, his head tilted up as he rests upon her altar.

you don't know how long they're there. you're too busy sitting in the fever settling over your body while trying your best to reciprocate patrick's lips over yours while his fingers pump in and out of you. but soon there's another pair of fingers gliding down your cunt, running around patrick's two thick fingers down to where you're gushing out arousal. it's tashi, kneeling between your legs. over patrick's head, you see art sitting off to the side, his feet tucked under his butt and his hands rubbing up and down his legs almost as if he's nervously waiting for something.

you can't attempt to decipher his intentions when tashi nudges patrick's wrist to the side, turning his fingers inside of you to a new angle that has you gasping. patrick shushes you quickly, kissing into the center pit of your neck.

tashi's heat is sweet. it's comforting and familiar. she places her fingers onto your clit, rubbing your own arousal around your pert bud. she settles in between your thighs, running her tongue along your inner thigh. you can't smell her until a gust of wind pushes through the open window, and she smells like perfumes and body oils and lotions. they are either all the same, or they just compliment each other well enough. she smells like a kiosk in the mall, but less over powering. she smells gentle, like warm flowers. the heat of her lips against your inner thighs is nice. it's heavy, but less imposing than the heat of curiosity from patrick on your neck. less intense than the heat of primal desire you felt from art.

she's gentle, the reprieve you need from the intense way patrick shoves his fingers into you and the satisfaction you desired from when art had clumsily knocked his hips into yours. she's slower on your clit, helping your orgasm build up as patrick digs and searches for the spot that she can find easily.

"it's to the left," she tells him, and just like that, patrick finds the spot. your hand wraps around patrick's wrist, your nails digging into his skin.

tashi looks up at you, her smile small but very much there. it's visible and familiar, the same smile you saw her wear whenever patrick and art pushed their lips together for the first time without any inhibitions. it's knowing.

she knows that despite the stiff heat circulating through the room, and the individual heat coming from each of you only making it worse, this is part of your dream. your deepest darkest desire that you only admitted to her no more than 48 hours ago whenever you first laid eyes on fire and ice as they'd been dubbed.

she jerks her head to her right just a bit, enough to signal something to you. your eyes turn and you see art, still sitting in the same spot but with his cock pulled out. he's slowly tracing his thumb over the tip, spreading what looks to be a sizable drop of precum over his head. when you find tashi again, she lifts her thick eyebrows once and you know that look. she's asking you if you want a taste.

she leans up, occupying the space previously taken by art. her smile widens when her eyes meet yours. you can feel it hovering over your lips when she brings her head down. instinctively, your head tilts up as you wait for her to knock your lips together. she doesn't do it immediately and you feel pathetic as you wait. you feel like art.

"yeah?" she asks, her lips moving closer and closer to yours.

"yeah," you confirm. and finally, she presses her lips to yours.

#patricksworld!#artsworld!#tashisworld!#art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig x reader #tashi duncan x reader #celeste writes challengers

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jirishnesensei · 3 months ago

Text

geto suguru x reader | college au [18+]

offscript ch.1 be my lead

༺ Pairing. college au - volleyball player! geto x cinematography major! reader (f)

༺ summary - In the chaotic world of college life, you should have expected your drama production to turn south as fast as it did. When your lead actor drops out just weeks before the play, you’re left scrambling to salvage the show that means everything to you. Enter Geto Suguru—talented, charming, and the last person you’d expect to help. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and you find yourself convincing him to step into the spotlight.

༺ warnings/tags - 18+, fluff, angst, smut, fem reader, romance, pining, slow burn, friends to lovers (I guess strangers to friends to lovers), acting, college au, alcohol/drugs, injury, unrequited love, jealousy, Geto is bad at feelings, swearing

༺ status - ongoing

༺ chapters - 1/x

༺ word count - 4.6k

"You belong with me. You've always belonged with me." Emi cried. Her hand is clutched to her heart, and her voice trembles, afraid that her confession may push him away.

Kazuki looks between both her eyes with such yearning. He lifts his hand slowly and sweet, cupping her tear stained cheek as though she were some figment of his imagination.

"I love -"

The actor froze. He swallows thickly, changing his weight between both his legs, then said, "I love." You clutch your pen because he was hesitating.

The stage grew quiet, waiting for his line. You glance at the script in your hand anxiously, and when the actor looks at you, you mouth the line for him, confused because his said it a million times. He looks back at the actress in front of him and you notice how the hand that held her cheek became more rough. His eyes no longer bore weight to the scripts words, and his mouth frowns into a deep, personal scowl.

"Fuck you."

The hall audibly gasps in a chorus, nevermind he had a mini microphone attached to his cheek.

The next second the lecturer is up in arms. Your friend Mai beside you looks at the script to see if there were any line changes she didn't know about, but of course there wasn't.

Cecilia, the actress, has her lips parted just barely in a trembling frown. What you assume to be real tears start streaming down her face as she watches Jean, your actor and her boyfriend, drop the script to the floor, jump off the stage and grab his bag, beelining it straight for the doors.

"What the hell is his problem?" Your friend Mai stands abruptly beside you amidst the chaos. She glares at Jean, then rounds the table and goes straight for Cecilia and you? Well, you wish you could say you had just an inkling of moral to check up on her, but the only realization managing to bypass your conscious is the fact that your only male lead is speeding towards the exit door.

"Wait!" He starts walking faster when you call. You run to his side and grip his arm desperately. "Jean, just wait. Talk to me, what the hell happened?" You look between both his eyes for some kind of answer but now that you were in front of him, the entrance light beaming down the rows of seats, you could just make out the tears that were brimming in his eyes and I don't know, there's just something about men crying that gets you feeling like you're going to cry yourself.

"She cheated." He says, as if it were physically hurting him to pull those words out of his throat.

your eyes widen, and it's the first moment you stop thinking about your play. "she what?"

"She fucking cheated," He laughs pitifully at himself, aggressively wiping his palm against his cheek over and over to the point where it was turning pink. "And you wanna know with who?"

You fumble a couple filler words, expecting him to be rhetorical, but no, he wanted an actual answer. "C'mon, guess. There's only a few people worth fucking over a 4 year relationship for."

You flinch at his tone, "I don't know."

"It was Geto. Geto fucking... I mean what the hell am I supposed to do when she cheats on me with a guy like that?" His voice cracks when he speaks so he quickly turns his head away so you don't notice, but the damage was done, you could hear him sniffling and it made your heart crack into two uneven pieces.

"Shit...I'm..." You straighten up, standing there awkwardly now as he tries to stop himself from crying in front of you. The name he mentions is not foreign to you. Probably not foreign to anybody, really. "... Jean I'm so sorry."

"It doesn't matter." He shakes your arm off of him that you forgot was even still holding on and presses his lips tightly together as if there was so much more he wanted to say, but he doesn't. "I'm sorry, but I can't be in this show anymore. Not when she's - " when he looks at you, all the raw emotion he was letting off was thrown into your face like a reality check that he was not in the right state of mind to negotiate. As someone who does theatre work as her major, emotions were something you learned to pick up on pretty easily and Jeans... you actually felt scared standing before him with just how unpredictable he looked, so you take a step back and nod sympathetically.

"I understand."

Then he leaves. Without another word. Slamming the doors against the wall and leaving it swinging in his wake. When he's out of sight, your mind starts to pick up on all the commotion that's happening behind you. Cecilia is a crying mess on top of the stage, and everybody is out of their positions trying to comfort her or get the tea on what really happened.

"Hey, what did he tell you?" Your friend Mai finally jogs over, concern written all over her face. You link your hands behind your neck and sigh.

"We just lost our lead."

you cancel the rest of the session. Having no lead made it immensely difficult for you to continue so you pack your bag with your script and belongings uncaringly. Most people have already left except for Mai, but someone walks up to you and you could feel yourself teetering the edge of breaking down.

"I don't know when the next rehearsal will be."

"It's me." Your hands freeze mid stuffing your jacket inside to look up at Cecilia who stood in front of you. Eyes all red and puffy, with faded lines of mascara running down her cheeks. You'd think she was the one that got cheated on. You straighten up and gesture to the chair beside you.

"Do you want to sit?" You offer but she shakes her head.

"I just-" she takes a deep breath in, ringing her hands together nervously. "I just wanted to apologize to you. Formally. I really messed up and -" she starts to cry again and it took you by surprise, not moving for a few seconds before you quickly walk around your table to offer her a consoling hand.

"sh sh sh, you really don't have to explain."

Mai was a ways to the side, noticing you were preoccupied so she gave a sympathetic look then continued to close up the stage for you. You mouth a 'thank you' to her from over Cecelia's shoulder.

"But aren't you angry with me?" Cece is now wailing into her palms. You try and soothe her by rubbing her back, but it didn't seem to offer much, so you stretch over the table to your tote bag and grab the mini tissue packet for her. She takes it and really goes at it, "I fucked up so bad, but now I ruined your show too. I know you worked so hard on it-"

"Its fine cece." You squeeze her shoulders and bend down a little to look into her eyes. "Seriously, don't worry about it. Do you think I don't have a replacement?"

she sniffles, lifting her head up. "I thought you said you didn't prepare for one?..."

you give her a reassuring smile. "This is the biggest show of my life, of course I prepared for one."

That seems to calm her down a little bit because she's not crying anymore, but still she wipes her eyes. "If I can do anything to help, please let me know."

You narrow your eyes at her, tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. "You should just go home and rest. I'll call you when rehearsal starts up again."

She suddenly comes in for a tight hug and although you work with her, you don’t really know her personally, so you awkwardly return it with a few pats on the back but then you think she probably really needs it so you squeeze her back instead. When she thanks you and turns to leave, she stops mid-step like she wants to say something.

"um, did he... did he say anything to you when you stopped him?" She can't look into your eyes when she asks. You think it's probably out of guilt, who really knows, but there's this ugly feeling in your chest that makes you think that Jean was probably telling you the truth. You don't want to get into the middle of anything, though, so you shake your head.

"Just that you guys had some problems."

She nods but leaves with a heavy cloud over her head.

---

"Cheated?" Mai scoffs beside you as you and her walked along the colonnade outside campus, a disgusted expression on her face. "And I consoled her."

You weren't listening to much of what she said since you had your own problems to figure out. Like for one, who in the world was going to replace your lead.

"So what're you going to do?" Mai sighs and frowns when she sees how despondent you look, poking at your ice cream in a cup that you bought from some fundraising group in the university. You think it's for the Volleyball team if you're not mistaken.

Despite having told Cece that you had a replacement for Jeans' role, you didn't actually have one. Something about nobody was good enough or whatever high horse reasoning you had at the time.

"do you think I could bribe Mr Sayako into giving me an extension?" You ask Mai and she shakes her head.

"Wouldn't work hun, this was already your extension, remember?"

"Okay sure, but what the hell? he saw what happened up there. How could I have planned for that?"

"I guess it's worth a shot, but what happens if he says no?"

You sigh, then take a mouthfull of your sugary treat and speak through it. "Look for a washed-up new lead, I guess,"

"What? you're just going to give up?"

"mm," You shake your head, taking the spoon out of your mouth so you could talk, "its not giving up. I'm accepting reality."

"That's giving up." She sweatdrops, watching you juggle your envelope and ice cream in one hand while you fish in your back pocket for your phone.

"whatever." You say, taking it out and already looking for an Uber nearby so you can wallow in your bed with that entire bottle of wine you had planned on popping for your opening night, but that didn't seem like it was going to happen. Mai suddenly takes your shoulder, and it stops you from clicking accept.

"I have a crazy idea." She says. She's peeked your interest enough to make you drop your arm, but you don't respond. "Why don't you ask Geto to be your lead?"

You deadpan. "are you insane?" it seems the more seconds that go by the more she seems convinced that she actually thought of something brilliant.

"I went to high school with him and he did a class play once and by the gods he was fucking phenomenal."

"a class play?" You repeat like the word was foreign to your tongue.

"yeah!"

"Like informal and for marks?"

"Yeah? Why do I feel like you're being condescending."

you look at her funnily. "oh, is that the word?" you stuff your phone back into your pocket. "You can't possibly think because he was good in a class play he'd be good to act in front of an entire audience on a stage in make up and costume?"

"You're not listening to me!" She whines and shakes your shoulders. Her excessive persistence makes you groan, flailing your one unoccupied arm at her to push her away.

"he was fucking great! Like professional great! Every acting club begged for him to join, even I begged him once but he said no cause he was doing volleyball or whatever-" she stops talking when a sports committee student randomly stops her and shoves a flyer into her hands while you continue to walk, "Sure, thanks," she absent-mindedly answers then catches up to you, "seriously, he was really good. I can guarantee you he would be much better than any random person you find now. With all the good actors taken he's your best shot."

You scoff, taking a spoon out of your ice cream again. "best shot..." you mutter then stop walking. "ok fine, lets say he actually is as good as you say he is, what makes you think I can convince him?"

You give her a couple seconds so that the gears could turn in her head, but the disappointment never hits, and her expression changes like a lightbulb flashing yellow, "You can be very persuasive." Is her counterargument.

You raise a brow at her instead of answering, so she gives you one of her meanest glares. "Why are you being so difficult right now?"

"Because I'm not in the mood to make a fool out of myself with someone I don't even know not to mention, incase you forgot, he is literally the reason my first lead quit on me!"

"and some people fuck their CEO to get a promotion!"

"What the hell does that have to do with anything?"

She rolls her eyes impatiently.

"You have been trying to get picked up on your writing for years now. Are you seriously willing to just throw all that away just so you can say a couple of years down the line 'at least I maintained my morals for that play'?" She looks at you genuinely concerned, and it makes you frown.

"No..."

"Then you can't be thinking about everyone else's feelings (y/n). You do what you gotta do."

"But what if-"

"Zip it." She takes your ice cream and it makes you frown harder. "It's just one audition. You miss all the shots you don't take, remember?"

You press your lips into a tight line and narrow your eyes. Nothing you said would go through her thick skull, and admittedly, a part of you was already convinced. Mai glances down at the flyer in her hand and is about to throw it away when she gasps and starts to shove it in your face.

"You cannot tell me this isn't a sign!"

You send her an irritated look when she doesn't stop the shoving and forcibly pull the flyer out of her hand to read it. And in clear-cut bold, it says:

Volleyball Team try-outs!

The gym will be closed for the next month in order to facilitate the try-outs and training of new team members.

Trials start on the 27th of May and ends on the 21st of June

Make the time and become a part of the Todai Volleyball team!

It was professionally designed with a team photo transparently printed behind the font, too. It was a testiment to just how much the school adored their volleyball team, handing out these flyers to just about anybody that has a pair of hands, going off of the stack that was in that guys arms.

The date, however, was the most jarring because it couldn't have been more perfect, giving Geto, if he had to agree, the perfect opportunity to help you out and not clash with his practices.

Mai gasps, her line of sight just past your head. "Speak of the devil!" She grips your arm and forces your attention to the right. You feel your chest tighten when you see him in all his glory, Geto Suguru, and a few other guys you recognize as a part of the team around him. They just walked out of the econ building and you can already notice the attention they were getting.

Mai is suddenly pushing against your back fervently. "Now's your chance, c'mon! Let's go!"

"What?!" You look back at her like she's gone mental. "Now? You want me to go now?"

"When else?!"

"I didn't even prepare anything! Don't I only have one shot?!"

"Yes and this is it! You're the most persuasive when you don't overthink anything. Just ask him and don't be a pussy about it!"

She pushes you hard, and it's enough to get you to start walking his way anxiously, looking back at her enthusiastic smile as she gives you two thumbs up like a mum sending her child off to school.

You sigh pitifully, shaking your head. What in the world has your life come to? Just now you had the perfect cast, the perfect script, and now you're going to beg and grovel to someone you've never even spoken to before? you suppose, if he does actually agree by some miracle, then you wouldn't mind. But that was one big miracle and you don't think you've done enough good deeds to warrant that.

You adjust your navy blue headband to neaten out the baby strands that were sticking out. The rowdiness of the group with their deep, masculine laughter, trying to speak over one another was becoming abundantly clear as you neared, although Geto seemed to be the only one that's not trying to scream over his teammates. You neatened your buttoned up white shirt, unrolled your black jersey sleeves, and lifted your pants up with the hoops of the waistband.

"god... here we go," you mutter. "excuse me." you say loud enough to catch the attention of just the right person right as a guy behind him gave a solid slap on his back and exclaimed a this guys worse, dude before following the group further down the pavement, leaving you alone with Geto.

You give him your best smile, waving your hand but also mentally aware to not actually swoon over him because wow, up close you could just tell he was a man made with love.

He’s tall, atleast six feet tall which is well above your head and there's a slight sag to his shoulders with effortless bedroom eyes. He has long, thick hair that you'd kill for, tied in a messy high bun that suggests he didn’t bother with it after his practice and he loosely grips a half-empty water bottle, droplets still clinging to the sides with one hand casually inside his long white and blue athletic pants coupled with his sports jacket that's only zipped three-quarter of the way, just enough to reveal a glint of a silver chain resting against his collarbone. The sleeves of his jacket are casually rolled up to his elbows, too, with his one arm sporting a niche black watch that looked like it wouldn't have the numbers on it. You hope you didn't pan up his physique. You just couldn't help but notice how effortlessly stylish he looked, and you started to get your hopes up that maybe Mai was onto something.

You notice he looks a bit pensive by your sudden approach, a light crease forming in his eyebrows as if trying to recognize you, but it quickly disappears the same moment his eyes flicker to your hands that still hold your small admissions envelope that you got signed to book out the hall for your shows opening night.

“I don’t think you know me,” you say, and he naturally switches into this approachable demeanor with a light smile, shaking his head that makes his bangs sway gently.

“No, I don’t think I do.” He turns away from his retreating friends to give you his full attention, and his voice catches you so off guard. You suppose, there’s a delicateness to him that you hadn’t anticipated.

“I’m (y/n),” you introduce yourself. He nods, acknowledging you. “Geto.” he says as if not everybody already knew who he was.

You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and exhale, suddenly feeling nervous.

“So, listen... I don’t want to waste your time, so I’ll just cut to the chase. I’m producing this show, and I’d really like for you to audition to be my lead -" Your words trail off as you notice his expression change.

"A show?" He repeats. There’s suddenly an intensity in his gaze that makes you want to apologize for even asking because it feels like you’ve wronged him somehow. You just nod. "Yeah...or like a play, whichever works..."

“Oh.” You hear the disinterest in his tone, but he covers it up with a polite smile, “Thank you, but I’ll have to decline. I’m really busy with volleyball practice.”

"I know you're busy," you cut him off, taking a step closer but remember you can't come off as desperate despite how much you actually are. "my play's opening night is June 23rd, and I know your practices are on hold now for the next month with the trials starting up."

He stares at you for a few seconds, almost like a deer caught in headlights and then he chuckles.

"You really did your homework."

You give him a weak smile, shrugging. "If I'm going to ask you I think it's only safe measure to know my information, right? This wouldn't be just for me either. This would be really good exposure for you too. I have pretty top end agencies attending the play and you never know. They may just be interested in what they see."

He hums, crossing his arms and getting more comfortable on his feet. It takes everything in you to not glance at how nice his arms probably look across his chest.

"But I'm pursuing volleyball, what need would I have for acting agencies?"

"Well, they're not just looking for actors," A gust of wind blows some of your hair over your lips, so you lift your hand to hold it to the side. He notices the movement. "they could use you for the sports magazine, publicize your skills, your credentials. It could easily bring nationwide attention for you to be on that."

You feel a sense of pride when Geto’s demeanor shifts subtly from uninterested to genuinely intrigued. You’ve cast the line, and now you just need to reel him in.

“Hm,” he exhales, shoulders dropping slightly. “How long is it again?”

"one month. Give or take a few days."

"and you want me to audition?"

"Yeah, any day this week is cool but preferably as soon as possible."

He raises a brow and by the tug of his lip you're assuming he found something amusing. "So wait, you are producing what sounds like the most important play of your life and you're only now looking for a lead?"

You flush at his comment, looking away sheepishly at the students exiting the campus doors. Sharp as a knife this one...

"That's a... It's a really long story, but you don't have to worry about that, I have a complete team that's ready to go at a moments notice. I just need my lead."

He taps his finger over his bicep, nibbling on the inside of his cheek as if he's thinking about it and you think you might have convinced him, but then he shakes his head again and this time he's halfway turning around with a hand raised.

"Sorry, but I'm just not interested. Good luck with your search though." then he leaves, catching up with his friends. Your jaw literally drops. He asked all those questions just to fucking say no?!

In his defense he was surprisingly polite, but you couldn't care less about that as you feel your frustration start to fester, all the events of the day coming to a boiling point. Without thinking and with really nothing to lose, you yell:

"You owe me, you asshole!"

and he turns, so damn fast you're surprised he didn't get whiplash. His face was just screaming for you to repeat that and you did. Gladly.

"You think I don't know? sleeping around with girls that are already taken!?"

you don't even know when it happened or how in the world he moved so fast but you're suddenly pushed back into campus with a very strong hand, dragged into a random empty lecture hall as if you weren't a fully grown adult yourself and then despite how much Geto tried to whisper, he echoed in the large room.

"What the fuck is your problem?" He demands while looming over you and usually you'd be intimidated by a man as dominating as him but in this current moment you could only glare and channel every nerve of frustration into the conversation.

"What the fuck is your problem?!" You press a finger into his hard chest. "Sleeping with someone that's already taken- Do you have any idea how hard I worked, how long I slaved away at this show just to have it ruined because you couldn't keep it in your pants for someone that's available?!"

Geto’s eye twitches, and for a moment, you think he’s going to yell back at you. But instead, he takes a step back, running a hand through his messy hair and forces himself to stay calm.

“Look,” he says, “I don’t know what you think you know, but whatever happened between me and... whoever, it’s not my fault your show is falling apart.”

You let out a bitter laugh, looking away and shaking your head. “Cecilia. And of course, it’s not your fault. It’s never the other person's fault, right? You just waltz into people’s lives, do whatever the hell you want, and leave them and others to deal with the mess.”

Geto’s jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing as he stares down at you. “I didn’t ask that girl to be unfaithful, I didn't even know she was, and I sure as hell didn’t ask to be dragged into this drama. So why don’t you stop blaming me for your problems?”

“oh, my bad, you’re right. You didn’t ask for this so that just means all of the problems you had a hand in just fall away." You take a step closer, teetering the edge of calm and blowing a fuse, " I don't know if anyone's ever told you this, but your actions have consequences you know. Whether you like it or not, you’re part of the reason why things went south. Why I don't have my lead anymore. You could at least try to be an adult about it by taking some responsibility instead of just acting innocent.” Your phone starts buzzing in your back pocket, and you see it's Mai texting you, but you quickly turn it off.

You don't see his expression soften slightly, the tension in his shoulders easing as he considers your words. “And you really think being in your play is going to make up for it?”

Your ears perk when you hear the opportunity in his voice and you look back at him, noticing how he seems to be considering you, “It’s a start,” you plead, “I know it’s a long shot, but it’s all I’ve got. I’ve worked so hard on this, and I’m not ready to give it all up when I'm so close to the end."

You watch his chest rise and fall with a deep breath as he turns his head to look away from you and instead at the empty seats in the lecture hall. Long lashes flutter against the top of his cheeks every time he blinks. You hate the fact that you think about how unfairly attractive he is in the moment. After a long pause, he finally looks back at you, his expression unreadable.

“Fine,” he says quietly and your eyes widen. “I’ll audition. But that’s all I’m promising. If I don’t like it, I’m out.”

You can't control how shocked you look when he acquiesces. Honestly, you didn't expect anything out of this after calling him out the way you did and just started running your mouth to let off some steam, but maybe he really did feel bad. “s-seriously? Oh my god, thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he warns, the seriousness in his tone cutting through your relief. “Like I said, this doesn’t mean I’m committed. I’ll give it a shot, but if I’m not into it, that’s it.”

“I understand,” you say, quickly nodding. “That’s all I’m asking.”

Geto takes a step back, leaning on the edge of the lecturers table with one palm holding his wrist. “So when should I come in to audition?”

"Uh-... " Your mind runs blank, you hadn't expected to come this far. You scramble for your phone to check the schedule you’d painstakingly put together, but not a single slot was available. "How's tomorrow afternoon?" You look at him.

Geto raises an eyebrow. “Afternoon works. What time are we talking?”

You tap on your phone screen with your painted nail, trying to appear confident despite the nerves. “How about 4pm?”

“Sounds good," he tilts his head and his eyes get smaller like he's plotting something. "but only if you agree to one condition.”

"condition?”

"yes," a witty smile plays on his lips. “I want an iced coffee," His shoulders raise as he shrugs. "It's the least you could do after nearly tarnishing my name out there."

You blink, momentarily taken aback by such an innocent request. “uh, yeah sure. I can do that. Is that all?"

He gives you a pointed look before he walks over to you. You feel yourself straighten by the approach. "You make it sound like that's an easy condition, but I'm a very hard man to satisfy." He stops in front of you, and you have to crane your neck to keep eye-contact. "But for now, yes." his eyes flicker between yours and the faint smell of cologne consumes you. "That's all."

You get a bit overwhelmed by his unwavering eyes so you look away into your tote bag. You swear he becomes just a little bit smug by it. "And, um, here’s the script." You pull out your personal script since it was the only one you had on hand. When Geto looks at the worn-out, slightly crumpled script covered in handwritten notes, annotations, and sticky tabs, his gaze softens, and he takes it tentatively from you.

“I know it looks like a mess, but it’s got all the notes and directions you’ll need. Just ignore the scribbles if they get in your way—most of it is just me trying to make sense of everything.” You adjust your bag strap sheepishly while Geto cards through the pages with his thumb.

"You're really passionate about this." He glances at you and you're not even paying attention to him anymore. Your eyes are trained on the script in his hands like it was your holy bible and it might as well have been.

"Hm, I've been working on it since the start of the semester. I'm hoping to get picked up with this bad boy." You look back at him, and you're suddenly giving off a much softer vibe. He thought how strange it was that you saw no issue in handing over probably your most prized possession to a complete stranger. He sighs and then tucks the script to his side. "I’ll see you at the audition, then.”

You smile back at him. "hm, see you then. And thank again. Really."

he hums and walks past you to the door, brushing his arm against yours where you could feel the cold fabric touch your skin, the tension in your chest finally starts to ease. Just as he reaches the exit, he pauses and glances back at you.

“And for the record,” he adds, his voice carrying easily across the empty room, “you’ve got guts. Not many people would call me out like that.”

With that, he leaves, the door clicking shut behind him. You stand there for a moment, still processing everything that just happened. Your heart is still racing, but it’s no longer from anger or frustration. It’s from a strange, tentative hope that maybe, just maybe, things might work out after all. When you leave the class you're surprised to see Mai just a meter away, gnawing at her nails with the most horrified expression on her face. When she sees you she doesn't waste time to grab your arm and drag you out of the campus building. "I told you to convince him to audition, not fucking call him out, you idiot!"

You laugh at her, holding her hand that's on your forearm. "Do I have some good news for you."

✧You're all caught up!

258 notes · View notes

janeyseymour · 1 month ago

Text

If This Is Love

Summary: Melissa's not familiar with what love should be. You come along though, and you turn her whole view on love upside down. Based off of Ingrid Michaelson's "If This is Love" from the notebook musical- and please give the song a listen, as it's my own cover!

WC: 3.25k

Since the day that Melissa Schemmenti could form coherent thoughts, she dreamt about finding love. As a little girl, she wasn’t quite shown love- seeing her parents’ marriage turn into hatred and then a messy divorce. Her aunts and uncles weren’t much better. But being a young girl who grew up with Disney princess movies where Prince Charming comes whisking the princess away, and then after falling in love with reading, the young redhead was determined to find love.

And she did… or she thought she did. Joe came along her junior year of high school, perhaps when she was the most vulnerable she could be. Being in the midst of moving house once again, dealing with a father who was as good as dead to her at this point, and having the body insecurities that every teenage girl has, she would find love in the wrong place with Joe. Not that she knew it at the time. No, she wholeheartedly believed that Joe was her true love- he didn’t degrade her or hit her the way she watched her father treat her mother. She had broken the cycle.

Until she didn’t. Until she grew up while Joe stayed the boyish person that she thought would grow up with her. And while Melissa blossomed into a lovely, yet somehow still relatively tough and true to South Philly, teacher, Joe found himself at a standstill. That did not bode well for the redhead. It led Melissa Schemmenti to the life that she had so desperately been trying to avoid, and yet here she was.

With the help of her new found friend at work, the second grade teacher was able to get away from her husband. And in that act, Melissa Schemmenti and Barbara Howard were bonded for life.

Since leaving Joe, Melissa has rarely let love into her life. Of course, she yearned to satiate her desires and often let herself, but the men that she went home with or brought back to her home were very clearly one night stands. A no strings attached situation.

If the redheaded divorcee couldn’t make it work with what she thought was her first love, her true love, her life partner, there was no point in letting anyone else in, as much as she still wished and dreamt of Prince Charming to come sweep her off her feet and carry her away to a palace, to a happily ever after.

And then you came along. Everything that the rough and tough woman thought she knew about herself went out the window. Maybe, just maybe, she didn’t actually need a Princess Charming… but a Princess Charming?

That threw her for a whole new loop, but still the redhead stood her ground and refused to let you into her life in a romantic way because of her prior experiences. Well, the more accurate statement is that she tried to refuse to let you into her life in a romantic way.

But you, with your sweet charm and truly kind heart, had wormed your way into that one spot that Melissa so desperately kept guarded. As time goes by, the two of you grow close, and it’s… it’s nice. It’s almost as if the two of you have slipped into a relationship without either of you really knowing it.

Until Barbara Howard, your favorite redhead’s work wife, makes it apparent to Melissa just how in deep she is. And the glass shatters around her as she sees exactly what the kindergarten teacher is speaking of.

I've waited every day to feel the way I feel. Knots in my stomach, the kind that never heal. Butterflies that fly in me and never seem to go away.

It is true that Melissa has been waiting everyday to feel the way she feels about you. From the time she was little, she wanted to feel unconditional love for someone, and all the somewhat broken girl wanted in return was the same connection from someone else. Green eyes soften and glance down at her hands as she realizes you provide that warmth and love that she craves and has been craving for years now. The thought of it alone makes her stomach knot, but she oddly finds that she doesn’t ever want those knots, butterflies really, to go away when she thinks about you. It’s a warm, somewhat pleasant feeling when you simply greet her with a gentle smile or softly spoken words. It’s in the way that you show her you care for her, backing up the words that you promise her everyday. As opposed to just the words, you show her that you mean them. And… it makes her heart flutter. She remembers the first time she ever felt that with you, and it brings a warmth to her soul like no other.

Melissa comes into the staff room looking exhausted and a little pale, if you’re being honest. The second grade teacher throws her purse on the chair that she usually occupies before sighing heavily as she makes her way to the coffee machine.

“Long night, Schemmenti?” you tease her. “Out avoiding all your problems again?”

She looks to you with a tiredness in her eyes that, despite her appearances, you still weren’t really ready for. “No. I was in bed by nine, and my body feels like it’s absolutely dragging today.”

By the time her coffee is ready, she hasn’t engaged in conversation with anyone else in the room, and she simply gathers her things and heads for her own classroom. That’s quite odd. Unusual. Maybe she really isn’t feeling well.

Come the time for lunch, your kids have you going crazy. All you really want to do is sit in your classroom for some much needed peace and quiet, but your curiosity about how your favorite redhead gets the best of you. So, with a soft sigh to yourself, you make your down to the staff lounge. You know you’re a few minutes later than you would be on a normal day, so when you walk in to see that Melissa isn’t sitting in her spot, you grow a bit concerned.

“Where’s Mel?” you ask Barbara.

The kindergarten teacher shrugs. “I know she said something about her kids having her wiped and maybe staying in her room to nap during lunch.”

Your brows furrow, and you grab her lunch from the refrigerator before heating it. Once it’s hot and ready, you gather your own meager lunch and head down to the redhead’s classroom.

What you see when you walk in is not what you expected at all. The woman is wearing her winter coat, she has the blanket that she usually sits on draped over her, and she’s asleep on the carpet as she leans against the beanbag that she usually keeps in her calm down corner.

You frown before crossing your way over and feeling her forehead. She’s burning up. It’s clear she isn’t feeling well, because when you expected her to bat at your hand, she doesn’t so much as flinch at your touch.

“Mel,” you shake her gently, so as not to disturb her quite as much. She doesn’t stir in the slightest.

With a frown, you take her things back down to the staff lounge, stick it in the fridge, and then grab your keys. If she’s feeling so terrible that she can’t even stay awake for the entirety of the school day, the afternoon is going to be rough.

“Where are you going, Y/N?” Janine asks. “Aren’t you going to eat lunch with us?”

“I forgot I have to run out to the store,” you lie.

“Well, when are you going to eat lunch, dear?” Barbara asks as she takes a bite of her salad.

You shrug. “I’ll be fine. I had a big breakfast, and if I really get hungry, I’ll eat while my kids are at music today.” Without another word, you’re out of the staff lounge and running for your car to make it to Acme and back before you have to pick the kids up from their lunch period.

You don’t think you’ve ever been in and out of the grocery store in such quick timing. Your arms are equipped with congestion and fever reducing medicine, a bag of cough drops, tissues, tea bags, honey, and a thermometer.

You hastily eat your lunch on your way back to the school, prepare the mug of tea just how you fix it when you’re sick yourself, and then you’re quietly making your way back into the redhead’s room. She’s just as you left her, although she’s shivering now.

“Mel?” you gently shake her awake. She has to wake up- the kids are almost done their lunch period.

Her eyes open, and she blearily looks up at you. “Y/N?”

“Hey hun,” you smile softly. “It’s time to get up now, but I brought you a few things to help you get through the rest of the-” She cuts you off with a harsh cough that sounds and looks painful. “-the rest of the day.”

You silently present her with some of the medicine and the bag of cough drops. Then you hand her the tea. “Drink it. It’ll help your throat.”

“‘m fine,” the second grade teacher grumbles.

“You aren’t,” you tell her softly. “And that’s okay. You just have to make it the next two hours, and then you can go home and rest tonight, tomorrow, and over the weekend.”

What you had done for her that day, and then even just checking in on her throughout the weekend, it was something special to Melissa Schemmenti. You did all of it out of the goodness of your heart, expecting nothing in return. You just… wanted to be there for her when she was in a time of need. It sent her into a tizzy when she realized that she had more than just platonic feelings for you.

Sick to my stomach when I think about (her) face. But in a good way, in a way I can’t replace/ Nothing can stop this- it’s almost like a hurricane.

If the tougher than nails redheaded teacher thinks her stomach turns in knots when she thought of your sweet, kind actions that you consistently show her, it is no match to the way she feels when she thinks about your beautiful face.

She can recall the first time she laid eyes on you. Stunning was the first word that popped into her head. And then, in her own inner monologue, she chastised herself. That word couldn’t capture how beautiful you are. She decided later on what word best describes your face- ethereal.

It’s something in the way that your eyes glimmer when you’re speaking of something that you’re passionate about- whether that be your kids, the music that you love to listen to, or another hobby of yours entirely, Melissa Schemmenti swears she could get lost in your eyes for forever, and she wouldn’t have a single complaint about it.

Your eyes give so much away in general. She can see when you’re happy, elated, sad, frustrated, angry… just by glancing into your eyes for a split second. The redhead almost swears she can touch your soul when she looks into your eyes. They tell her everything she needs to know. Melissa swears you hold a whole other universe in your eyes that is just waiting to be discovered.

She wants to be the one to discover that piece of you. At first, she had tried to step back from you and stop the feelings that she seemed to harbor for you, but it wasn’t possible. It isn’t possible. You, like a hurricane, came barreling into her life- a force to be reckoned with that can’t be stopped.

If this is love, I’m not ready. If this is love, why am I so unsteady? If this is love, why did no one tell me the pain that I would feel?

The redhead, not wanting to but being forced to, sits in her emotions almost everyday after school. She gets into her car (before either driving to her house to prepare dinner for the two of you, or to make her way over to your place to eat one of your infamous dishes), and she takes in what Barbara had spoken quietly at lunch while you were in the restroom. Shit. Melissa is in deep. She’s not ready for this- not in the slightest. She isn’t in love with you. She can’t be. But if she is… why does she feel so unsteady, so uncomfortable with it.

Taking a deep breath, the second grade teacher calls her best friend.

“Melissa, we just left the building,” Barb answers the phone.

“Yeah, yeah. I know,” Melissa huffs out. Then she makes herself a bit vulnerable. “I- I think you may be right.”

“Well, of course I am,” the kindergarten teacher smirks. “But what am I correct about this time?”

“I- I think I’m in deep for Y/N.”

“And you’re calling me to tell me this because…?”

“Barb,” the usually strong and confident woman says in such a way that Barbara’s heart almost aches for her friend. “If- If this is love, why does it hurt so much?”

“Melissa, dear… if I may, the last times you’ve been in love, they’ve hurt you,” the wise woman says into the phone. “Perhaps you’re projecting the hurt and emotions that you’ve buried deep down onto this.”

“I dunno,” the redhead shrugs.

“Tell me, when you think of Y/N, how do you feel?”

Melissa bites the bottom corner of her lip before admitting, “Lighter than I’ve felt in a long time… There’s- she’s somethin’ real special, Barb.”

“She is,” Barbara smiles into the phone. “If you want my honest opinion, I think you’ve had enough heartache in your life, and I truly don’t think Y/N is capable of hurting anyone. You are a strong and confident woman, Melissa. And I think you need to open yourself back up to love- for yourself, for Y/N, and so the rest of our friends stop asking me if the two of you are secretly dating!”

The second grade teacher hums into her device, thinking on it. “M’kay, thanks.”

“Think about it, and make a choice, Melissa. But remember, dear: not making a decision is a decision.”

And with that, Barbara hangs up the phone, and Melissa closes her eyes.

If this is love, maybe I’m ready. How do I know? I’m in my head again. If this is love, I think I’m in it. If this is, if this is, if this is love.

The entire drive back to her place, Melissa Schemmenti is all but a basket case. One second, she thinks she’s ready- maybe. And then she’s not so sure. And then she’s asking herself how she would know if she loves you before berating herself for getting herself absorbed in her thoughts to the point that she hardly remembers the drive home.

As she treks her way up the front steps to her house, you pull up with the same bright smile on your face that she saw at the end of the day. And Melissa thinks to herself that she’s used to seeing that beautiful grin after a long day at work- that she could get used to you always being around for dinner, like you have been for months now. Silently, Melissa Schemmenti thinks that if this is what love is, she thinks she just might be in it.

The world around me says no, but I say yes. I wanna scream it out, instead it’s stuck inside my chest. It’s like a bird, in a rage, in a cage- and nobody wants to free me.

The entire time that the two of you dance around the kitchen to make dinner, the redhead’s eyes hardly leave you. You can’t say you don’t notice. Melissa often has an eye on you no matter where you are, whether that be in her home, your house, the school, or elsewhere, but the way that she’s watching you tonight is… it’s different.

Everything in the second grade teacher’s heart is telling her to profess her love for you. To tell you that despite the fact that she’s got a not so great track record with relationships that left her terrified of love and what it can do to people, that you are worth all of those doubts and fears.

You almost ask her what’s going through that pretty head of hers, but you know how the redhead can be. If she doesn’t want to say it, she won’t. So you settle for giving her warm smiles and feather light touches as you maneuver your way through her house with ease throughout the night. What you don’t know is: if you had asked Melissa, she would’ve told you this time. And she actually wanted you to ask.

If this is love, I’m not ready. If this is love, why am I so unsteady? If this is love, why did no one tell me the pain that I would feel?

When you leave for the night, Melissa is about as confused as Janine was when Gregory was trying to teach her physics. She- she knows that she loves you now, but something was stopping her from telling you tonight, even when there was a perfect opportunity for her to lean in and kiss you. That alone tells her that she isn’t ready. God, why is she so unsteady in her feelings?

The redhead groans as she drags herself to bed, and only once she is in the quiet comfort of her own bed does she truly let herself fall into her thoughts.

Melissa has been burned, seen other people burned, and… her heart quite literally aches, a dull sensation that feels like a knife to the heart, as she remembers what that feels like. She wonders if you’re worth the risk of feeling like that again.

If this is love, maybe I’m ready. How do I know? I’m in my head again. If this is love, I think I’m in it. If this is, if this is, if this is love, I think I’m in it, and in between it, and upside down, and inside out. I think I’m in in, and in between it, and upside down.

Sleep doesn’t come easy for Melissa that night. But when she does finally give into her own exhaustion, she dreams of you. She dreams of what a life could be like with you.

When she wakes with a soft jolt, the redhead wishes she hadn’t. Dreaming of a life with you was better than reality- a reality where you aren’t hers.

As she sits up in bed, she comes to the conclusion that if this is what love is, she’s in love with you and everything that could be.

Those thoughts are only confirmed when she walks into the staff room, and there you are- practically glowing as the sun surrounds you perfectly as you sip from your coffee mug while grading your students’ spelling tests. You look like an angel- you are an angel in her eyes.

And with enough courage, Melissa knows that this is what love is supposed to be, and she has to do something about it- soon.

If this is, if this is, if this is, if this is, if this is, if this is, if this is love.

Tags

(and let me know if you want to be included!): @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @a-queen-and-her-throne @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo @m1lflov3rrr @ricejucie @temilyrights

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

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physics-of-one-piece · 2 months ago

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The One Piece World Timezones [Fixed]

Okay, so I did a big WHOOPS. I thought the Grand Line is the equator. Someone in the notes pointed out that no, the Grand Line is not the equator and honestly, yeah, my fault for not going a bit deeper into my research.

Here is how the globe is and how the Grand Line goes. The blue thingy is I suspect the actual equator.

The reasons I thought the Grand Line is on the equator is:

1) weather

2) natural occurences

3) map on the One Piece Wiki

Crazy shit happens in the equator in our world.

Here is how the Grand Line is positioned as told by Law.

(source)

Now, let's fix the mistake. (Sighs)

And... ROTATE THE MAP.

Here it is. I sighed many sighs while rotating this and maybe I cried a bit at getting everything 3 hours wrong and then cried some more that Dressrosa & Hawaii aren't in the same timezone bcs goddamn it, that fit, as did Mariejois.

But FINE. I'm doing this for all the Doffy x Reader writers, all the One Piece x Reader writers, all the One Piece fanfic writers, full stop. I REFUSE TO ALLOW MY MISTAKE TO BE A CURSE. I'll also edit the OG post and put this pic there so both posts have the correct one.

Okay, one more time, 100% correct this time:

Paradise:

Reverse Mountain [UTC -1]

Cape Valley [UTC 0]

Cactus Island [UTC 0]

Little Garden [UTC +1]

Drum Island [UTC +2]

Alabasta [UTC +3]

Island where Luffy Kicked Bellamy's Ass Vol 1 Jaya [UTC+4]

Skypiea [UTC +4]

The Arc I Skipped After Seeing It Became Filler Ring Long Island [UTC +5]

Water 7 [UTC +5]

I'm so sorry, Snail 😭

Ennies Lobby [UTC +6]

Florian Triangle [UTC +6]

Sabaody Archipelago [UTC +7]

Amazon Lily [UTC +7]

Impel Down [UTC +8]

Marineford [UTC +8]

Holy Land of Mariejois [UTC+8]

All the thematic representation of it being UTC +12, splash into the water 😭😭😭

Fishman Island [UTC +9]

New World:

New Marineford [UTC -8]

Punk Hazard [UTC -8]

Dressrosa [UTC -7]

Totto Land [UTC -5]

Wano [UTC -4]

Law vs Blackbeard Island [UTC -3]

Elbaf [UTC -3]

Weird that it's Elbaf that's Northeast, since shouldn't Law have gone there as his route? Maybe Kid lied and went there still after Law said Northeast is the quickest path, while Law took a detour onto Winner Island to fight Blackbeard.

Hachinosu (Pirate Island, Blackbeard's HQ) [UTC -3]

Egghead [UTC -3]

Even though Egghead's not shown on the map, Luffy went directly south from Wano, and by the line, the Sunny would have entered the UTC -3 zone.

Lodestar Island [UTC -2]

Calculating Guide:

From East to West

- if it's 17:00 (5 pm) in Marineford (UTC +8) and you want to know what time it is in Dressrosa, this is what you do:

1) (Current time in Marineford) - (UTC time number of Marineford) which is

17 (5pm) - 8 = 9 am (UTC 0)

2) now that you have UTC 0, you put another minus, this one from Dressrosa's UTC, which is UTC -7, so it goes

9 am - 7 = 2 am

So it's 2 am in Dressrosa, while it's 5 pm in Marineford!

From West to East

Say it's 22:00 (10 pm) on Saturday in Dressrosa, what time is it in Holy Land? Here are the steps.

1) (Dressrosa current time) + (Dressrosa's Timezone Number) = time at UTC 0

So that's:

10 pm + 7 = 5 am Sunday (UTC 0)

2) UTC 0 time + Holy Land Time Number

So: 5 am + 8 = 13:00 (1 pm) Sunday

So while it's 10 pm Saturday in Dressrosa and Doflamingo is conducting business with the Paradise part of the Grand Line, in the Holy Land, the ugly Celestials are eating lunch on Sunday or napping bcs they are freeloading cu- (censored) unlike Doflamingo who's actually working!

(looks at the maps of my previous timezone post) Okay. It's fine. I only missed Dressrosa by 3 hours. IT'S FINE.

(it's not fine, I'm crying, it's not FINE, my favourite island and I couldn't even get it right the first time, if Doffy turns me into a toy I deserve it)

I'll go climb the Red Line and jump off it. This is the greatest shame as a scientist. Wrong numbers.

A/N: Of course, if what the pic above said is true, it might as well could be that the original tinezone map I made is semi- correct and the entire territory up until Wano has a timezone from UTC -12 to UTC -9 if it's only the first third of the New World, as those are the "thirds" of the west timezones. I don't read the manga, but I'm caught up with the anime and if the manga does reveal a map, actual map like that curved one in the picture with Law or Oda finally makes one, I give the manga readers full permission to send it to me in an ask and I will update the posts again. For now, this is the most "official" map we have, and the most recent one. Also, the Grand Line being in the shape of a rollercoaster is fitting, haha.

Taglist: @fanaticsnail @moonbaby26

#one piece #one piece fandom #one piece meta #physics of one piece

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blackpilljesus · 6 months ago

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Not everything needs to be announced, do not put a target on your back.

With the rise in popularity of things like 6b4t, 4b, decenter men, etc I'm seeing a lot of women bragging to maIes about it which will not help us. At the end of the day maIes do not care about our happiness, look at how they get off on womens abuse, they constantly seek to break women down at every twist and turn, they dont actually give a fuck about whether single childfree women are the happiest demographic out there. Maturing as a single childfree woman is realising that it's not just about hating maIes but being indifferent to them, not caring about their opinions at all. Only recognise them for the threat & parasites they are. I dont care to prove maIes wrong. This doesn't mean I ignore or hold positive sentiments to them, I just focus on centering myself and womankind in my life instead. I often see women bring up points about single childfree women & our happiness to maIes when maIes already know that.

Let's assume that maIes dont know that women are happier when we're single, why does it matter that they know just how much happier women are when they're single? Given the way maIes have treated women, do you really think maIes give a fuck about women being happy? Do you really think that if maIes didnt know how single childfree women felt before & when they find out how happy single childfree women are they'd be pleased about it? Or that they'd care?

For every single childfree woman is a maIe without a rape maid, a maIe without someone to pummel their legacy through, etc yk how it goes. MaIes are already feeling the effects of our freedom & they're starting to retaliate. In south korea female only parking spaces were replaced with family spaces, in the USA there's project2025 & how they want to coerce women back into the nuclear family unit, in the UK many sexual offenders are being released from prisons due to "overcrowding".

Back to my point on indifference, part of that is realising that all of this shit goes beyond witty one liners on the internet. MaIes are fully aware of everything they do and how they benefit from it. To the women who brag to maIes about 4B et al, what is the end goal here? Is it truly decentering maIes as claimed or is it some type of strategy to spook maIes into being good boys? Because I've seen women try to be threatening with it like "maIes need to get their act together or we they wont be chosen/we'll 4B!" and this is still maIe centric in a way. Sounds harsh but many womens tiktoks, tweets, of this nature tend to have maIe partners or are still looking anyways so it only makes things harder for those actually serious about this. I feel like many women believe at some point maIes would grovel back to them & 'apologise' for their actions and start being better like no; maIes have intentionally done everything through force & violence including wanting a partner & children. MaIes arent going to change nor will ever change on their own. MaIes dont just want parters or children, they want this at the expense of womens lives; our goals, our dreams, and our humanity so they sure as shit dont care about our happiness.

There is thing as centering maIes even in a negative way, I saw it described as "chaotic misandrist" on the pinkpill site. Many women talk about how they want nothing to do with maIes but then make it their entire personality. Many women on tiktok are using 4B as some titillating leverage over maIes or as some divine femininity woo woo femme fatale shit. All of that still centers maIes. What needs to be realised is that it's not all about maIes. I dont solely do this as a "fuck you" to maIes, will it be? Yes. But that is not my primary reason for not dating or reproducing. Dont make this a thing where you solely want to get back at maIes. MaIes dont negotiate so attempting to barter is a waste of time and tiptoes on maIe apologism because even if maIes apologised for all the things they've done I would still not forgive them. I would still want the worst for them. Ik in that situation most women would forgive them without a second thought.

Women saying "act right or else 4B" are saying this because they still want to make it work with maIes. If there's negotiation it means a connection still wants to be formed which misses the entire fucking point. It aint about maIes it's about yourself and womankind. This is why it's hard for me to trust other women because it wont take much for them to cave as has been throughout history. I dont care what moids think about all this, as I said my primary concern regarding maIes is the threat they pose. I dont care whether they'd ever change. Anyone serious about this wouldn't be dangling the prospects of not partnering with them in maIes faces especially bc part of what leads to this is realising that maIes are dangerous & there's no reforming them. Dangling this in their face is poking the bear and maIes have no limits as to how low they'll stoop to get what they want. They'd kill themselves to prove a point.

So for the love of goddess, stop bragging to maIes about this. Doesnt matter if they say you'll be a miserable cat lady like bet. Deep down we all know they need us more than we need them. This isn't to say to hide & be ashamed of it, but it wont do women favours exposing our play to our predators.

#female separatism #6b4t #4b #female separatist

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starlight-bread-blog · 5 months ago

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Three Books, Two Characters, One Story

An essay on Zuko and Katara's characters and character arcs

——————

Zuko and Katara, fire and water, red and blue, one rises with the sun, the other rises with the moon. And yet, they are similar, tied together and grew closer than they could have imagined. In this essay I will discuss Zuko and Katara's characters in Avatar: The Last Airbender. I intend to touch on their shared traits and backgrounds, on their development and on their points of convergence in their over overarching story. Now, without further ado, let's begin.

——————

The Common Ground

Zuko and Katara share their core traits and core events in their respective lives. Firstly, their loss of their mothers. Zuko lost his mother, Ursa; and Katara lost her mother, Kya. But if you ask me, it goes deeper than that. For Zuko, the loss was a loss of shelter from the cruelty of his father and the bliss of being a child. In Zuko Alone, we see how Ursa took care of Zuko, played with him, and gave him a proper childhood.

With that gone, he remained almost completely unprotected. But more importantly, he lost his childhood. (It is true that he still had Iroh, but Iroh can help to an extent. He can’t be at the dinner table when Ozai tells Zuko he was lucky to be born).

Similarly, when Katara’s mother died, something in her internalized it. As Sokka says in The Runaway:

We see Katara help fill the void many times in A:TLA. Namely in The Desert, where she takes care of the Gaang in ways ranging from giving her bending water to endangering herself to pull A\ang out of the Avatar State. Katara doesn’t like to be viewed as someone who lost her childhood, as her reaction to Sokka’s speech was to join Toph and go scamming. However, Kya’s death is an integral part of who she became. She wants to cling to her childhood, and she partly succeeds,but that speech was made for a reason. A part of it was gone with Kya.

Another parallel between their similar grief is sacrifice. Zuko’s mother left to save his life from Fire Lord Azulon’s ruthless order. Katara’s mother died when pretending to be the last waterbender of the South Pole when a Fire Nation raid came looking for her. Both of their mothers left because they protected them, saving their lives from the cruelty of the Fire Nation. In these parallel narratives, the themes of sacrifice against them are intertwined.

But beyond their grief, I believe that at their center, they are very similar. Zuko and Katara are filled with righteous anger and empathy even towards strangers. Although clearly everyone in the Gaang is a good person, doing their part in ending the war, it’s not a defining trait as it is for Zuko and Katara. In The Painted Lady, Katara insists on helping a Fire Nation village while Sokka pressures that they’ll leave to make it to the invasion, while Toph and A\ang remain natural. Her compassion clashes with the Gaang. When Sokka scolds her for being impulsive with her attempts to aid the village, Katara angrily responds with this:

Similarly, the thing that kicked off Zuko’s arc was this righteous anger. In The Storm, we learn that Zuko’s scar came from him standing up to a general who suggested sacrificing a division of rookies for an operation.

You can't sacrifice an entire division like that! Those soldiers love and defend our nation! How can you betray them?

It is their shared compassion and anger at the injustices around them that makes them and the way they interact with the world so similar. Iroh described Zuko as “an idealist with a pure heart with unquestionable honor”. How well does this describe Katara?

Moreover, it is not only their anger. They are both incredibly strong willed with how they act on their anger. In The Waterbending Master, when Katara found out master Pakku won’t teach her because she’s a girl, she didn’t give up. She challenged him, a master, to a fight to prove that she can do everything a boy can do. And Zuko’s strong will is almost over talked about. When A\ang escaped his ship, he jumped on his airbender staff. In Zuko Alone, Ursa said to him “That’s who you are, Zuko. Someone who keeps fighting even though it’s hard”.

To sum up, Zuko and Katara’s foundational events and personality traits are parallels to one another. They both lost their mother when they sacrificed themselves for them, and it marked the end of an era for them. They are both driven by compassion and righteous anger and have a strong willed personality. They are guided by their morals first and foremost. They are parallels to one another.

The Development

Zuko and Katara’s character arcs serve as parallels to each other, and bring them closer together. Zuko’s redemption arc is, to put it simply, about unlearning Fire Nation propaganda and coming to realize the horror his country inflicted on the world. In book 2 Zuko sees the harm they caused first hand, and in The Day of Black Sun he fully rejects the Fire Nation.

Zuko: Growing up, we were taught that the Fire Nation was the greatest civilization in history. And somehow, the War was our way of sharing our greatness with the rest of the world. What an amazing lie that was.

He rejects the lie that the Fire Nation is somehow helping the world - that it’s inherently good. His arc was about unlearning Fire Nation supremacy.

Katara’s arc is not as easy to pin down, but it’s nevertheless there. Her arc is about idealism, hope and a change in perspective. Katara started her journey as an idealist, the literal voice of hope in the opening, and with a black and white view of the world - the Fire Nation is evil, and everyone else is good. Throughout the show, Katara encounters both good people from the Fire Nation, and bad people from around the world of Avatar, such as Long Feng, Jet and Hama. In The Puppetmaster in particular she learns that waterbending can be just as destructive as firebending, if not more so. Her arc is about unlearning naivety and Fire Nation inferiority.

The symmetry comes from them learning to lean on the other’s view across the seasons. In book 1, they are rigid in their view. Zuko is still working a full time job tracking the Avatar, while Katara still clings to her black and white view of the world, such as when she had a conversation with a Firebender who told her firebending is inherently destructive. In book 2, Zuko becomes a fugitive and sees the Fire Nation’s horrors for himself, while Katara sees that the one safe haven from the Fire Nation can be evil too. In book 3, Zuko goes back to the Fire Nation to see that it’s not what he’d imagined at all, while Katara goes to the Fire Nation to find people just like her.

Not only are their arcs symmetrical, but they are what allows their bond to flourish. Katara can only forgive Zuko after she’d let go of her ideals, and Zuko can only seek to redeem himself in her eyes after he’d let go of his idealization of the Fire Nation. Their bond is a true testament to their arcs.

The Encounters

Zuko and Katara’s relationship carries a lot of narrative weight. Their journeys are intertwined on many occasions. For Katara, it’s significant that after Katara masters waterbending, it is Zuko whom she has to defend herself to. It’s significant that she sees humanity in Zuko, despite him being the face of the Fire Nation. It’s meaningful that she goes to find her mother’s killer with Zuko, and even bloodbends before him. And finally, it’s meaningful that she spends the 4 part finale with him.

For Zuko, it’s significant that when he truly connects with someone other than his uncle, it’s with Katara. It’s significant that he learns through Katara that revenge doesn’t always help. It’s significant that Katara is the last member he has to earn forgiveness from. And it’s meaningful that jumping in front of a lightning bolt to save Katara is his last act of redemption.

While Sokka and Zuko for instance never interact in book 1 besides some one liners, Katara and Zuko had a subplot around Katara’s necklace. Although their stories do diverge, such as most of book 2, they always return to spend the season’s finales together. They don’t drive each other’s characters forward as much as they represent milestones in each other’s stories. You cannot remove their scenes together and have the rest of the show make sense.

——————

In conclusion, Zuko and Katara’s characters follow a story of mutual suffering, personal development, and deep friendship. They have a common experience of sacrifice, sorrow, and unflinching compassion. These experiences have narrative weight because they act as development, redemption, and forgiveness catalysts, creating a connection that ultimately serves as a reminder of how far they’ve come.

#zutara #zutara meta #zuko x katara #katara x zuko #katara #zuko #anti anti zutara #pro zutara #zutara analysis #zutara evidence #zutara forever #zutara nation #zutara should have been canon #zutara was robbed #zutara supremacy #zutarian

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babygirl-riley · 11 months ago

Note

I was thinking of this, if you'd be willing to write it, something based on "Redeemer" by Palaye Royale where simon's s/o is depressed and suicidal... it's ok if you don't want to thanks anyway luv ya<3

Every Step

Reader is struggling with their mental illness

A/N: This is a HUGE trigger warning, if you cannot read any sort of suicide please do not read. It gets dark in this one. And Anon! This really broke me, this song really just wow! Beautiful and damn sad. Good one 🖤

“Will you please pick up the phone?And I'm waiting for you to come home. And I'm screaming all on my own”

Warnings: suicide attempt, thoughts of suicide, depression, anxiety, mentions of anxiety attack, mental breakdowns, angst, soft!simon, husband!simon

simon x reader guide

simon x reader fluff/angst

You sat curled in the corner of your bedroom. Everything seemed to fall apart in the last 5 months. You had a job you loved just to be let go due to company being bought, your rent was becoming overdue for a month, job hunting going South, your family starting to become more distant after the death of your mother, and Simon and you have been at each others throats.

You have tried to just smile and move on, that life will eventually piece itself back together. Mask your true self-feelings. Even when Simon had been around it was ‘fake it to you make it.’ Little to your knowledge that he noticed, mind you, it wasn’t always your fault when starting fights. However, it was most. He would ask what was the matter and you would blow up.

You never mean to, never wanted to, that’s just how it goes when you get into these ruts. Just not too long ago you and Simon fought, it wasn’t pretty both things from each other were said that shouldn’t have been. Not meant. It got to the point where

Simon left the house, didn’t say a word and left.

You threw things, punched things, broke things. Now you are here, curled up with bloody knuckles and a stained red teared face. You didn’t know how long you were sitting there. Everything ran through your mind of what was going on. What has been happening. Your mind trailing to dark places. It started to panic you slowly, things you have never thought of before.

You thought about ways to make yourself not here anymore. Ways to make the pain go away. You thought how everyone around you would be better off than to handle a bitchy person. Simon would. Your parents would. You friends would. No one truly thought of you as important or loved. You were only loved because it was an inconvenience to them.

You looked at your bathroom and thought about all the pills that were stacked inside the cabinet. Sleep then not wake up. That would be the best way. No pain. You got up to walk to the bathroom, mind racing on how rude and feeling like you have been fake. You shut and locked the door, grabbing each bottle and opening them.

You heard a soft knock on the door then the handle moving. “Love, let me in,” Simon started to put things together, he didn’t hear the water but he did hear pills. Panic rushed through his veins. “Open this door now.” He was stern yet soft at the same time. That’s when he heard the soft crying.

Simon backed up to kick the door. One. Twice. And it slammed open, he scanned the room as you were in the corner in the bathtub. He looked at the pill bottles and froze. Empty. He stormed towards you with panic on his face. “How many!”

You cried even harder. You shook your head, as he grabbed your cheeks gently yet firm. “Y/N how fucking many!”

You looked at him your tears spilling harder. “None! I threw them down the drain!” Simon stood up quickly to look in the sink, the cover go on the drain open.

You sobbed harder as Simon inhaled deeply. He walked to you and gently picked you up. You leaned more into his chest and sobbed harder. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” You kept repeating.

Simon hushed you softly as he placed you on the bed with him following. Laying your head on his lap while he used his fingers to comb through your hair. You just sobbed and sobbed, it felt like hours until you were able to stop. It was silent. Dead silent.

Simon inhaled deeply. “What made you want to take ‘em?”

You sniffled a bit. “I don’t know.”

Simon’s heart hurt before remembering all the phone calls. All the ones he missed just to think it could have been your last. He knew that you were going through something, he tried to be there but you seem to push it off or push him away. “I don’t think anyone would miss me,” His mind lost track of his thoughts when you mumbled those words. “I have been so angry, so upset, and so not happy. I just thought that you and everyone else would be better off without me.” Your voice choked at the end as you sobbed again.

Simon felt his chest tighten, looking at his band on his ring finger. For better and for worse right? He couldn’t fathom the world without the woman he married. Has the last couple of months been hard? Yeah but both of you said in your vows, you would always be with each other. “Baby, I couldn’t live without you. It would-it would kill me.” Simon said softly feeling his throat closing. Softly gliding his finger over your stained cheek. “I’m sorry you felt like you weren’t loved or shown differently.”

You sighed as you started to calm down. “It’s not your fault.”

Simon slowly shifted you to look up from him from his lap. You could tell the worry and hurt in his eyes. The emotion that you caused, he frowned like he read your mind. “I think we should call your therapist.” Simon suggested softly rubbing your arm with one of hands.

You rolled your eyes sitting up, your back towards him. “I don’t need to see her. I can…”

“Baby you attempted...” He said his voice breaking a bit before sighing, he saw your shoulders tense then soften. He gently rubbed your shoulder. “Please.”

You nodded slowly as he heard sniffling. He stepped up and walked over to you kneeling in front of you. Simon’s expression softened even more as he watched you cry again. He rubbed his thumbs against your knees. You sighed and wiped your eyes. “I will call her tomorrow. Can you be next to me while I do so?”

Simon smiled and nodded. “‘ll even dial her up.” You half smiled and nodded placing a hand on his. “Let’s get food?”

You nodded and looked out in the hallway. “Can we eat in here and watch tv?”

Simon stood up and kissed your forehead closing his eyes. “Of ‘ourse.” He stood back having his hand on your cheek before grabbing out his phone. He glanced over at the door and the scene that was once live. His heart tightened. Simon will fight whatever demons you have, he won’t lose you. In sickness and health. He will be there every step of the way.