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stllmnstr · 3 days ago

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something old, something new

hello have a 2.3k drabble about Heeseung still having feelings for his ex heavily inspired by the above behind the scenes no doubt mv pics and based on this anon prompt sent to me:

this was supposed to be short but I got carried away and ended up writing 2.3k on my PHONE in an hour so please excuse any typos 😭

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

Lee Heeseung loves weddings.

When he admits this to people, which is in and of itself a fairly rare occasion, they assume it’s for all of the usual reasons.

The open bar, the well curated playlist, the free food... After all, those are the typical things men in their mid twenties tend to enjoy. And Heeseung always nods along. Forces a laugh whenever his conversation partner cracks another age old joke about getting a little too tipsy on the dance floor.

Besides, it’s not like he’s immune to baser pleasures. At twenty-five, Heeseung does genuinely enjoy eating well and getting drunk on someone else’s dime.

But if he digs a little deeper, is a little more honest with himself, the real reason he loves weddings so much is the romance of it all.

A white dress thats been agonized over and alternated to perfection. A cake thats been taste-tested and intentionally designed with the lucky couple in mind. A venue that likely cost an arm and a leg, but it’s worth it, because it’s the place where two people get to display the love they have for each other in front of everyone that’s important in their lives.

And Jay, he thinks, has outdone them all. The ballroom Heeseung steps into with perfectly shined shoes is jaw-droppingly gorgeous. Crystal chandeliers bathe the high ceilinged room in soft, warm light that almost glows like candles at dusk.

The aisle separates two generously sized sections of seating from one another. Each table is laid with a crease less cream colored tablecloth and a bouquet of flowers that Heeseung doesn’t want to guess the price of. It’s stunning. It’s perfect.

And Jay, Heeseung’s best friend of thirteen years, deserves nothing less.

Jake seems to agree. Coming to stand next to Heeseung, he jerks his chin towards the door that leads to the neighboring room. “I just heard from a very trustworthy source that the open bar starts at 1 pm sharp,” he grins.

Heeseung has a sneaking suspicious that this trustworthy source is Sunghoon, which means it’s likely to be incorrect. Besides, booze isn’t what he’s here for.

“Hopefully not,” Heeseung nudges Jake’s shoulder, “since no one wants to watch you stumble down the aisle.”

“At least I’m just a groomsman.” Jake shrugs. “You, on the other hand, Mr. Best Man, have to be on your best behavior. Besides, I can handle my alcohol.”

Heeseung’s lips flatten. “I have several videos that prove otherwise.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jake waves his palm. “I’ll be good. I promise. No shots until after the ceremony.”

Heeseung just rolls his eyes. His younger friend might be a little more lax when it comes to conducting himself in public, but Heeseung isn’t actually worried. This is Jay’s wedding, after all. And no matter how much Jake and Sunghoon enjoy a good party, they also know how to take things seriously when it matters.

For a moment, Jake just looks around the room, taking it in like Heeseung had a few minutes prior. Similar actions, different conclusions. Jake doesn’t comment on the lighting or the tablecloths or even the romance. Instead, he says, “I can’t believe Jay’s actually getting married.”

“Yeah,” Heeseung breathes. Jay is the first in their friend group to officially leave bachelor-hood, and it does feel a bit strange to bear witness to. “Me neither.”

Jake is still shaking his head. “And he’s the first one out of all of us. That’s almost weirder. You know, we always thought it would be –”

Remembering himself, Jake lets the sentiment die on his lips.

It doesn’t matter, though. Heeseung already knows what he was going to say.

We always thought it would be you.

Four long years ago, at twenty-one, Heeseung had felt far too young for marriage. But that didn’t stop him from imagining what you’d look like in a white dress. What flavor of wedding cake the two of you would select from the box of samples. What overpriced venue you would decide to officially intertwine your lives in.

It didn’t stop him from tucking away a small, velvet box in the back of his drawer for safekeeping. From fantasizing about kneeling in front of you and finally sliding a gorgeous, sparking ring right where he wanted it to belong.

It didn’t stop him from making promises and plans. Adjustments to his life just to make sure there was always space for you.

But one year later, the box and the ring inside were still tucked away. And the love Heeseung kept safe suddenly had no place to go.

He told his friends it was mutual, that you’d made the decision together. But Heeseung never wanted to let go. Even if a job opportunity meant you had to move across the country. Even if it made no logical sense for him to follow when he was still finishing his degree.

It was circumstances, he explained to his friends, to his family. Not anything either of you did wrong.

But alone, surrounded by the four walls of his bedroom and the overwhelming clamor of his own thoughts, Heeseung just cried. Sobbed. The kind of tears that left him gasping for air and with a throb behind his temple.

Because he knew that he never would have done that to you. He would have turned down the job, would have found a way to make long distance work, would have transferred to another university to be close to you even if it wasn’t logical.

He would have done it, the big romantic gesture that gives the rom-com a happy ending and signals to the production team that it’s time to roll the credits.

But you didn’t. When he suggested long distance, you just sighed. And there were tears in your eyes too, but there was no fight.

So Heeseung, despite every bone in his body screaming at him not to, let you go.

And now, three years later, he’s about to watch his best friend get married and pretend it doesn’t sting. He’s happy for Jay. He is. But the selfish parts of him will always wish he was the one waiting at the end of the aisle instead. For you.

The universe has never made a habit of bending to his desires, though, and he fulfills his role as best man well. The ceremony goes off without a hitch, and Jake is appropriately steady-footed in his role as a groomsman.

The white dress is gorgeous. The cake is delicious. The venue is perfect. Whatever romance is, Jay and his fiancée — no, his wife — have captured it well.

Despite his earlier words, Heeseung makes a home for himself at the aforementioned open bar the second the ceremony is over. Knocking back another swig of whiskey, he appreciates the slight burn. At least it’s in his throat this time, instead of his heart. And at least it’s induced by alcohol instead of misplaced jealousy.

But he must have had one too many drinks, because for a fleeting moment, he swears that the late arrival that makes a hesitant entrance into the reception room is—

No.

There’s no way.

You only knew Jay because you knew Heeseung, and those flowers withered three long years ago. You have no reason to be here now.

But then he hears it, and oh the lurch in his heart hurts just as bad as it did the first time. Because despite the improbability of it all, that’s your voice that floats above the music and exchanged pleasantries with another guest. Even after all the time that’s passed, Heeseung would know it anywhere. Could pick it out of any crowd.

He turns to you slowly, as if he can delay the inevitable just a little longer. As soon as his eyes land on you, he realizes his mistake. He shouldn’t have looked at you at all, should have just slid off the bar stool and ran in the other direction because it still hurts.

You’re three years older, and the time has been good to you. The evening dress you wear hangs from your body in a way that only reminds him of what you look like beneath it, of the way running his hands and his lips and his love over the skin you conceal used to feel like second nature. The way you used to play with his hair with his head in your lap, trading small moments of intimacy after a long day.

It hurts. It aches and it stings and it burns.

He has to get out of here. He has to leave. Now.

Not caring if he’s making a scene, Heeseung stands from the barstool. The only reason he tries to be somewhat discreet is to avoid the heat of your gaze.

All the way to the door on the opposite side of the room, he doesn’t turn back. Not once. On the other side of the door, he lets his body go limp against the solid surface beneath his spine, just for a moment. He exhales a long held breath.

But the air is still stifling, even as he loosens the tie at his neck. Straightening back to his full height, he turns down a short hallway until he arrives at the small outdoor balcony he noticed earlier.

The air outside is cold, at least. Fresh.

On the horizon, the sun spends its last few moments of the day painting the sky in gorgeous, golden hues. Heeseung squints, but he doesn’t look away. Hands wrapped around the bannister that lines the balcony, he sags into himself.

Shoulders hunched, he forces a long inhale into his lungs. And then he releases it. His breath is a pattern he can cling to, something steady that tethers him back to reality. Something to focus on that isn’t the war in his mind.

But peacetime is only an illusion. After a handful of quiet minutes, he hears the door open behind him.

“Oh,” you startle. He knows it’s you, even from just one syllable. “Sorry, I didn’t realize someone was out here already. I’ll just…” Your words trail off into silence, but Heeseung doesn’t hear retreating footsteps, doesn’t hear the door close again. After another stilted moment, what he hears is, “Heeseung?”

Your voice is small. As if you can apologize just by being gentle. As if he’s a wounded animal you don’t want to startle.

And Heeseung, despite himself, does feel a bit like a kitten left out in the rain when he finds it in himself to turn and face you.

The only word he says is your name. His tone is steady, even. More so than he thought he was capable of. But he’s looking at you now too, and his eyes have never been good at hiding secrets.

“I…” You trail off again. You’re at a loss too. “How are you?”

“Don’t do that,” Heeseung shakes his head.

“I’m sorry,” you retreat immediately. But Heeseung remembers when you used to argue, when you used to fight back. When you valued the strength of your relationship over his wounded pride.

“Don’t be,” Heeseung shakes his head again. “You made your choice, so stick to it. You don’t get to…” He screws his eyes shut for a moment, fist clenching at his side. Opening his eyes again, he matches your gaze. “You don’t get to leave me and then apologize for it.”

Your breath hitches, but you don’t miss a beat. “I meant for intruding,” you tell him. “I was apologizing for disturbing you.”

But you remember how he used to love making space for you in his life. How his plans were your plans and his time alone on a balcony would only be made better if you were there, too.

And you still remember the day you were inspired by a strong bout of spring fever, how you dedicated an entire afternoon to deep cleaning.

You still remember the small, velvet box you found.

You didn’t open it, but you didn’t have to. The small, nondescript container scared you enough. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to marry Heeseung. You already had Pinterest boards full of white dresses and three-tier cakes and stunning venues. Suits that you thought would bring out his best features.

But you’d also just gotten the news of your promotion. Across the country. You didn’t know how to tell him, and you had less of an idea how to leave him.

But you knew you had to. He would follow you, if you let him. You were sure of it. But he was enrolled in the best university for his program, and you watched him fight tooth and nail to earn his spot there.

Heeseung was a bright light, a beacon of good things, and if you were honest with yourself, you felt like his commitment to you was something that only weighed him down.

He was an adult, too. A young one, yes, but a full, grown person all the same. Perfectly capable of making his own decisions, but you took that from him anyway.

And now, three years later, you can still read him like an open book. There’s hurt in his gaze, pain that lingers even now. There’s resentment, too, and you can’t blame him for it.

I still love you, you want to tell him. Because it’s true. Because you do. Because you can see it in his eyes, too.

But you’ve always been better at holding your tongue than him.

Instead, you turn on your heel, planning to exit the way you came.

Fingers around the door handle, the sound of your name stops you.

It sounds like he’s begging, like he’s pleading, and you can’t bear to turn and see the results of your devastation as surely as you hear them.

Instead, you remain motionless. You squeeze your eyes shut as tightly as you can.

And then, so faintly it’s almost lost to the wind, he says, “Stay. Please.”

.....

thanks for reading! send me a drabble prompt here if you'd like!

#heeseung fanfic #heeseung fanfiction #heeseung x you #heeseung x reader #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen x you #enhypen x reader #heeseung drabble #enhypen drabble #heeseung angst #enhypen angst

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thegreatstoryteller · 2 days ago

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Female to Male Fridays!

The Great Shift: Meeting the Parents

“Are you sure you’re ok with this? We can still head home.” Jenny muttered. Clearly a bit nervous staring down at her boyfriend.

“Babe. It’s been almost a year since the Great Shift. I told you. Just because I’m unshifted, doesn’t mean I don’t want to meet your parents.” Youseff said smiling.

Jen and Youseff had met in their freshman year of college and immediately became close. They joined similar clubs, volunteered at the same food banks, and eventually friendship blossomed into romance one fateful summer night! The couple knew nothing could get between them and the love that they found… and a few years later that included the Great Shift. While Youseff remained unshifted, Jen Shale wasn’t so lucky.

They had agreed to meet at her sorority when the craziness of the Shift happened. Youseff was more than a bit surprised to find a larger older man in his 40s sitting nervously on Jen’s bed waiting for him! Since then many revelations have been shared with the couple. The first was Youseff coming out to his girlfriend as bi! He never had the courage to say it before and didn’t know how to share that part of his life with his girlfriend, but the shift offered a unique chance that worked out well with the couple. Two. Jen realized she was in a sports medicine professor who was quite in shape! He apparently was father to three student athletes on campus… and luckily her feelings for her boyfriend hadn’t wavered from the shift. A fact that they both enjoyed learning the first week of the Great Shift. Eventually the two became more comfortable with each other even buying a pair of matching pajamas!

It took quite some time for the world to get back in order. During that entire time communications were able to be set up with most families. Youseff’s family had many linear shifts, a term used by most of the world when your shift put you into someone very similar to your original body. His dad was a man his own age. His mother was a woman a few years younger than her. The only difference was his younger brother who now keeps telling Youseff to call him the bigger brother when he shifted into a former professional athlete.

Jen’s family… was another story.

“And that brings us to today. Jen. I’m serious. I want to meet them. I know you’ve talked to them, but I haven’t. And when they invited us over for the holidays I thought it’d be the best chance to get to know them.” Youseff said hopefully, placing a hand against Jen’s cheek and training the thick salt and pepper stubble that was ever present no matter how close she shaved.

“I know- I know… but I told you before the shift that they were a bit much… and, well, now since the shift… they are still that! I guess… just… more…” Jen muttered nervously. A feat she seemed to still master despite her new commanding baritone.

“They can’t be that bad.” Youseff said before knocking. And that’s when they heard heavy steps approaching the door.

A handsome muscular man answered the door! He wore long pink dishwashing gloves and an apron! Aside from that he seemed to be wearing nothing else. The small potted flower he held seemed to be thriving!

“You must be Youseff! Jen has told us so much about you! Come in! Come in! I was just washing some dishes and watering the kitchen plants! We’re so glad to meet you. You can call me Margot! I’m Jen’s mother, or rather her second father!” Margot laughed. The man before them had a deep voice and almost a bro like tone. The motherly introduction he gave at odds with his gym bro form.

“You must be hungry! I’ve been making lots of food these days. This young man I became had quite the appetite. And who could blame him. I’ve felt the urge to go to the gym almost every day of the week! Anyway, I just keep blabbering away! Have a mini quiche!” Margot led them to the living room where a small plate of appetizers awaited them.

“Wow, these are amazing Margot!” Youseff said digging in. I always wondered where Jen got her amazing cooking skills from.

“Awww! Jen! You didn’t mention your man was a little charmer.” Margot giggled as Jen blushed.

“Mooom! Stop! You’re embarrassing me!” Jen complained burying her fuzzy face in her large hands. Her mom was always like this. If it wasn’t telling embarrassing stories about Jen, it was finding an excuse to show off her body. Ever since Margot got her new body she had been more than happy to show it off. She would say, “Well this young man clearly wanted to show off his muscles, who am I to cover them up!”. So bouncing around the house in her classic apron was just the way she dressed these days.

“Shush Jen. My little girl will never be too old for a little humor. Just because you have more grays on that head of yours than your father did pre shift, doesn’t mean you can’t laugh a little.” Margot teased.

“Speaking of where is Mr. Shale? Youseff asked.

“Well he’s always in the garage these days. When he got that 20 year old gymnast’s body, he’d become obsessed with the sport! I’ve got some biscuits to take out of the oven. You two should check on him.” Margot offered.

“Anything to get out of this conversation.” Jen groaned pulling Youseff towards the side of their home. As they opened the door to the garage they could see a handsome black man flexing in the mirror, wearing a tight singlet. The chalk on his hands implying a recent gymnastics routine.

“Jen! There’s my little girl turned big man!” Her dad said cutting his flexing short and heading towards Jen. Mr. Shale now was the shortest one in the family at 5’1. With his daughter at 6’0 and his wife at 5’10, the household tended to tower over him. However, he was more than happy with his new body.

“Hey dad, enjoying your gymnastics or whatever?” Jen half heartedly asked.

“Yes I am! I tell ya, being a few decades younger is great! Sure beats my beer belly and sore ankles. A 20 year old body like this is flexible. You can ask your mother if you don’t believe me.” Mr. Shale winked.

“Dad! Oh my gosh! NO! I brought Youseff here! Please don’t gross him out.” Jen screamed.

“Oh so this is the young man that’s caught my daughter’s eye. You can address me as Mr. Shale or sir. DO I make myself clear?” Mr. Shale looked up at Youseff who just nodded. Despite the size difference between them Youseff was clearly intimidated by his dad-like tone.

“Yes sir!”

“Good man. I guess I have you to thank for helping our dear Jen finally get some more manly clothes? For some reason she didn’t want my help with a new wardrobe.” Mr. Shale shook his head disappointed.

“Yeah! We actually had a lot of fun going to the store and finding clothes that fit. The toughest part was finding shoes in her new size.” Youseff conceded.

“Youseff!” Jen blushed. She knew it was true. With her larger feet, she realized just how difficult it was to find footwear that fit. The largest most places went up to was size 15. Her now size 18 feet were tough to find anywhere!

“Sorry babe, but it’s true. Plus you said you had a great time shopping. Like old times, remember? You said that you weren’t sure we’d find a single pair, but when we went to the Big and Tall store, they had a few shoes your size! Even sandals!” Youseff explained.

Jen just shook as her dad applauded Youseff’s resourcefulness!

Before long the family was finally all together to share a meal! Jen’s parents were loving her boyfriend, though he could see that she was clearly embarrassed throughout the whole dinner.

By the time they left Youseff was driving them back to their apartment, where he asked. “Jen? Are you alright? I… I’m guessing that night wasn’t the most pleasant for you?”

Jen just nodded and hugged her boyfriend. Her broad frame embracing him with a tight squeeze. “My parents just take a lot out of me. Before the shift they were overbearing in a different way and now… well now they are always just so comfortable in their new bodies! My mom started going to the gym almost every day with her old book club. Each of them became some kind of fitness influencer. And my dad! He won’t stop telling me how proud he is to have a son now and that I need to start acting more manly. I don’t get how they can be so well adjusted to all this! I… I thought I was getting there. With you… being this kind of man feels easy. Even more exciting at times too.”

“I do love your mustache.” Youseff noted, causing Jen to giggle.

“See. It’s stuff like that. You always make me feel like your partner… and… I guess I need more time before I start feeling like a member of my own family again and not some older hairy guy.” Jen admitted.

Youseff kissed her cheek. “I’m sorry I insisted we meet them so soon. I was so ready to take our relationship further and I was so nervous to meet them. But I forgot to consider how you were feeling about your parents. From now on, we can just focus on us.”

“I like that plan.” Jen smiled kissing back.

“Good. Maybe we can start with a pedicure tomorrow. I know you’ve been itching to try that out with your big new feet.” Youseff teased.

“Ha! These big new feet would love to get a pedicure. Maybe a foot massage later too!” Jen smiled, wiggling her big toes. When she was with Youseff she realized, maybe she could get used to this big body.

#female to male #body swap #gender change #the great shift #great shift

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thewafflelad · 20 hours ago

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Tell me

When someone lays out an "I'm not interested at all and want to end this relationship and have you recover" story

Why do people ignore the first and core part of that story's basis?

IDC it's a shitpost, cos it's just refusing 2 possible things that are completely valid, but a sin in fanfic spaces:

1. Asexuality/Aromanticism, which just ruins the "fun shipping wars," and has always been a punching bag in Fandom spaces. The most prominent Aroace representation on TV/pseudo-indie spaces (outside of Cast-Off which is an electromagnetic spectrum of aroace) is a literal heartless, slave-owning psychopath named Alastor. It's treated as un-love and "wrong" because there's this conservative idea that "everyone needs to be in a relationship and tied together in a story," just expanded to LGBTQIA+ spaces.

2. This hostility and denial also fights against the idea of a person having genuine boundaries that they don't want pushed, regardless of sexuality. Too many fanfics (and old stories like The Quiet Man, funny enough) paint people with these boundaries as "hard to get," or "rude," or "cold and distant," and frankly?? That sets a terrible precedent for interacting with people. Some people simply aren't interested and that's okay. Forcing a romance because "it's how it's supposed to happen" is frankly conservative ideology in a queer space.

There's literally more than 2000 stories on AO3, Wattpad, Fanfic.net, etc, about enemies to lovers. The trope IS fun, but please recognize when the trope is being subverted, and don't try to Flanderize and force a story to be it. To give a direct reference to hopefully explain it better:

You know the meme of "Bridget could turn to the camera, say "I'm Transgender," and the Fandom would still try to debate it"? Post literally said "I'm not interested" multiple times. Every possible counter. And yet it's just treated like the narrator/character being portrayed is just being catty/hard to get. Genuinely exhausting.

TL;DR: Stop pissing on the poor on purpose.

No I’m not attracted to you. Quit your evil putting your finger under my chin to make me look up at you. I know I’m your nemesis and all but we really need to set some boundaries when you’ve got me tied up like this.

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checkeredflagggs · 23 hours ago

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Febuwhump Day 2: Holding Back Tears

pairings: gen

summary: a story about y/n, Redbull’s new second driver, told in non-sequential order

a/n: I love febuwhump and have participated before for other fandoms but this is a first for me — attempting to compete it via smau only. Hopefully I can write a complete story eventually and I will be posting it on its own masterlist in the correct order to read but it’ll be written based on the febuwhump prompt list! @febuwhump

a/n2: based on the 2024 year; sorry checo but you got replaced earlier!

y/n_rb

liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing, oscarpiastri, and 2,112,001 others

tagged: redbullracing

y/n_rb: not necessarily the fp1 we wanted to see but damn does this track have hands. (ps drinks and pizza have already been ordered for my poor engineers — love ya guys!)

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user1: girl you should be a dancer 💃 — you spun so gracefully

↳y/n_rb: very demure. very mindful. very cutesy

↳y/n_rb: you know what wasn’t mindful or demure?

↳user2: that gravel pit?

↳y/n_rb: that gravel pit!

maxverstappen1: You’ll come back stronger tomorrow!

↳y/n_rb: I’ll come back with my fightin’ hands

↳maxverstappen1: …sure.

↳y/n_rb: how are you so chronically offline?

↳maxverstappen1: I have a life.

↳y/n_rb: just say you hate me and move one

↳user3: damn girl — fighting both the track and the teammate…

↳y/n_rb: not very demure or mindful…

oscarpiastri: skill issue I guess

↳y/n_rb: I am in your wall pastry boy

↳oscarpiastri: you are very rat like I guess…

↳y/n_rb: 🔪🔪🔪🔪

↳oscarpiastri: 😱😱😱

↳redbullracing: no threatening other drivers please! Page number 83

↳user4: free my girl! She did everything you’re saying but it’s funny af

↳y/n_rb: I like you!

redbullracing: the engineers say thank you!

↳y/n_rb: I say thank you!

redbullracing

liked by maxverstappen1, y/n_rb, lewishamilton, and 2,834,924 others

tagged: y/n_rb, maxverstappen1

redbullracing: and that’s how you do it! That’s a 1-2 for our drivers with y/n_rb getting her maiden win here in Saudi Arabia!

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user5: THATS OUR GIRL!!

user6: woohoo!!! What a terrific race!

maxverstappen1: Fantastic race today y/n!

↳y/n_rb: THANK YOU!!!

charles_leclerc: Félicitations!

↳y/n_rb: thank you better French man!!

↳charles_leclerc: I AM NOT FRENCH! I AM MONÉGASQUE!

↳y/n_rb: that’s not what arthur_leclerc says…

pierregasly: great race today y/n!

↳y/n_rb: did anyone hear anything? Cause it sounded like someone who HATES WOMEN IS TALKING TO ME

↳pierregasly: I DONT HATE WOMEN. STOP SAYING THAT I DO

↳pierregasly: francisca.cgomes some help here?

↳francisca.cgomes: wow…I didn’t know you thought this way Pierre…

↳pierregasly: not you too…

↳y/n_rb: 🤭🤭🤭

↳user7: looks like someone holds a grudge…

↳y/n_rb: looks like 2 different people need to choke on an 🍎… pierregasly user7

↳redbullracing: Page number 83!!

↳y/n_rb: 🥹🥹🥹

y/n_rb

liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing, oscarpiastri, logansargeant, and 1,224,924 others

y/n_rb: MAMA I DID IT!! FIRST RACE AND I WON!! PODIUM WITH LEWIS AND MAX!!! WOOHOO 🥳

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user8: are you crying right now?

↳y/n_rb: holding back the tears as I type

↳user8: demurely? Mindfully?

↳y/n_rb: tbh desperately

↳user8: 😂😂

lewishamilton: Congratulations y/n!

↳y/n_rb: oh my god thank you so much sir Lewis Hamilton! And again I’m so sorry for nearly bowling into you!

↳user9: who is this polite young lady and where is the feral driver I follow?

↳y/n_rb: listen when it’s sir Lewis Hamilton you better believe I’m on my best behavior

↳user9: understandable. Carry on

oscarpiastri: congrats you gremlin!

↳y/n_rb: listen here Aussie I know where you live and your mothers and sisters like me more

↳oscarpiastri: 🙄🙄

↳y/n_rb: nicolepiastri Oscar is bullying me!!

↳oscarpiastri: don’t bring my mom into this!

↳nicolepiastri: be nice Oscar! And y/n_rb dear come visit when in Australia! We’ll save you a seat at the dinner table!

↳y/n_rb: thank you mama Piastri!

↳oscarpiastri: mom!

Taglist

@anamiad00msday @suns3treading @daniskywalkersolo @awritingtree @justheretoreadthxxs @coral7161 @lost4lyrics @mastermindbaby @freyathehuntress @angelluv16 @nichmeddar @mxm47max @voidvannie @justaf1girl

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yandereorg · 22 hours ago

Note

"Don't act like this means nothing to you! You're the same as me!" and "You need someone to take care of you." for pretty boy roy harper please 🫶🏻

"Roy its not that deep." You lean your head against the wall just trying to get some space but roy is quick to close it in again, his forehead resting against yours. Despretely trying to reignite the intamacy which had been alight moments before.

"No, no, no. Don't act like that. Don't act like this means nothing to you. You love me. Say it." His voice shakes and frantic hands anchour down on your arms with bruising pressure.

“Roy stop it. I want to go home.” You thrash trying to get away but Roy’s stronger than you imagine, he down into a pillow, his hips pressed against your own and a crazed look in eyes.

“No. Baby, you need someone to look out for you, look after you. Think about it, I can give you stuff no one else can, you need money? I got it. You want a bigger apartment with those windows to help the plants grow? I can get you that. Fuck an apartment, I’ll get you a house and you’ll, we’ll have the prettiest garden in the neighbourhood.”

“Roy please, I want to go home.” You say softer this time, trying to soothe him gently.

“Say you love me baby, I know you can.” He says resting his forehead against yours as his hands rises to your neck. Every second you don’t say anything his grip seemingly gets tighter, you kick and claw and struggle, but it just tires you out sooner.

“You not ready yet? That’s okay pretty baby, we got all the time in the world. Hopefully you wake up in the right bed.” He says, a cruel playfulness. He’s not sorry as you go limp in his arms. He didn’t want to do this, but he’s getting you sooner so he’s not too mad with you.

#yandere dc #yandere roy harper #yandere roy harper x reader #yandere red arrow #yandere red arrow x reader #yandere arsenal #yandere arsenal x reader #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere Drabble

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twistedpink · 10 hours ago

Note

Pining!Sebek would be the biggest puppy around, but just so stubborn about it

Woooooo!! Last request!

Sebek is so obvious with his pining that it’s painful to be someone who cares about appearances. He’s not trying to make you upset, he never would! It’s just hard for him to be subtle :( He’ll work on it, you only have to ask <3

Pining!Sebek is pathetic with his love, so when his cover’s blown (the closet was glass) there’s nothing he won’t do to show his devotion,, Sebek keeps a stash of love letters in his closet that he can’t bring himself to send- they’re not good enough for you. Not yet. But with enough time and effort, he only wants for them to be an engaging read. Hopefully it’s enough to get him a date? (YOURE PUTTING WORDS IN HIS MOUTH. HE WOULD NEVER SAY THAT.) (he says, and starts pulling out a bouquet)

Pining!Sebek isn’t insecure about his inexperience, in fact, it kind of.. motivates him? This is just another skill to hone, and there is endless reference material. From sonnets to magicam rambles, this is the most dynamic thing he’s studied. The sheer amount of variables is disgusting! He outright asks you things about your love life that no “friend” should know, but it’s all for the sake of his refined study notes. He’s going to win at love, by whatever means necessary!

Pining!Sebek might be embarrassing with how he goes about “romancing” you, but by god he’s the sweetest guy you’ve ever known! He’s terribly considerate to the point of sacrificing himself :( Please don’t let him deal with your messes all alone, a kiss is sure to perk him right up! So long as you can dodge the teeth,,

Sebek insists that if you’re going to accuse him of mingling with a human- It’s simply gathering information. That’s what this exchange is for, anyways! If he just so happens to get a stowaway on the boat back home, it’s his responsibility to keep an eye on them. (Yknow,, not like he wants to) You’ll at least give him the courtesy of a goodbye kiss if when the time comes, won’t you? <3

#twst yuu #twst #disney twst #yuu twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst wonderland #twst sebek #sebek zigvolt #twisted wonderland sebek #sebek x reader #sebek zigvolt x reader

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julianne124 · 3 days ago

Text

Rumor has it…

James Potter x reader

Authors note: please request stuff because I have no inspiration rn 😣😣

Warnings: um none? I don’t think, maybe rumors but other than that I don’t think so. No use of any name but one use of feminine pronouns

(First person)

I was furious. Someone has started a rumor, that me and James Potter were dating. Now don’t get me wrong, I liked him and he was great looking. But I’ve never thought past that, but whoever started this rumor has gone too far. Lily was following me as I was tracking down Potter. I pasted Sirius after he saw how upset I was, he pointed towards where he was.

I stormed up to him, “James! Why would you do that!?” I yelled at him and he looked so clueless and innocent. I know he started this rumor to humiliate me. “What? What did I do this time?” He asks with a very confused expression on his face. “Don’t act so clueless!” I exclaimed. After a moment his mouth made an ‘o’ shape and then was upset. He starts to walk around me, the way I just came from.

“Sirius!?” He yells down the hall to his best friend. It goes silent as his voice echoes down the hallway. As the black haired boy was sneaking down the hall to get away from James’ wrath. He turns around with an innocent smile, trying to ease into it. “Hey, friend, I really like your hair, did you do something different…?” He asks trying to distract James. “You know what, yea actually I did- wait! You can’t do that! I need an answer to this rumor I’ve just heard. What is it about me and her-“ he turns and points to me, “-dating!?” He says.

“Well, I know you like her and I found out that she likes you too, so I thought I should just tell… Mary and Dorcas that you guys were dating…” Sirius quickly explained. My brows furrowed concerned. “The biggest gossipers in the school!? You told them!?” I yelled at him. He smiled nervously and nodded scared. My fists balled together as I took a deep breath in and out. I see James roll his eyes and smack his forehead.

“We’ll talk about this later.” James told Sirius seriously as he nodded scared and ran off with Remus and Lily. “I’m so sorry about him, this isn’t how I wanted to tell you.” He turns to me and looks down. I look at him sadly. “Yea me too…” I say still looking at him. This was kind of funny actually. I start laughing and his head whips up to me and then he starts to laugh with me.

He then walks closer to me. “So maybe, on the next hogsmeade trip, you would want to go with me to Three Broomsticks? Like for a date?” He says hopefully. I pretend to think, tapping my finger on my chin, he gives me a ‘are you serious?’ look. I giggle and nod to his question. “Okay, so I’ll find you before and we can go, but right now I have to get to class to I can go. Minnie gives mean detention, could make me stay.” He says walking backward toward his class. Right before he turns around, he winks at me. I turn and almost scream like a little girl.

I run to my class, and sit next to Pandora, I tell her all about it with butterflies in my stomach. I had a real date this weekend, with an amazing guy that I really like.

#james potter x reader #james potter #marauders #harry potter

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respectthepetty · 2 days ago

Note

What does it mean if a character is navy blue/dark blue coded ??????

It depends on the character and the story, but normally, Blue Boys and Beauties are the most committed characters because they are stable and loyal.

They are also comforting characters and will easily sacrifice themselves and their happiness to please others.

They will be in love with someone for YEARS without saying anything which is partly because they are committed and partly because they don't want to make someone else uncomfortable with their feelings.

They are also the most intelligent characters.

But dark blue characters are just slightly different since they sit in a space between black and blue.

Black Brooders are secretive, protective, closed off, and moody.

So combine those black and blue colors to get dark blue:

You'll get a very guarded character who is extremely loyal and protective, probably helping out the person they love often without being noticed because they are being extremely secretive about it. They are also intelligent, so their plans are probably elaborate.

Hopefully, we will be able to see the differences between a light Blue Boy and a dark Blue Boy in Perfect 10 Liners with Faifa and Wine's story.

Faifa has already proven he will sacrifice himself to make others happy, and Wine has shown he is more closed off and strategic.

But I think Faifa will easily break down Wine's walls and be able to handle his darker moods since his brother is a Black Brooder.

However, since each story has something different to say, the dark blue coloring is dependent on the story.

But one thing is always true of dark characters —

They need light.

Hopefully this helped!

#the colors mean things #color coded people in love #dark characters need light #they need balance #and dark blue characters are no exception

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sugary-daydreams3 · 2 days ago

Text

Grief trapped in blue sunglass lens [Gojo's funeral fanfiction]

Summary: Now that the students and Jujutsu associates healed their physical wounds, they have no choice but to face the elephant in the room. Satoru Gojo is gone and everyone deals with the void in their own way before the funeral begins.

Word count: 6.4k

Series: Lost chapters I wish Gege wrote about

A/N: Made this because me and many other people didn't get to see a Gojo funeral nor the character's feelings on him being gone. This is one of my biggest gripes with the ending of JJK. I had no problems with Gojo dying but I feel that how he was handled physically post Yujo fight left much to be desired.

So I decided to write about (mostly) everyone's coping with Gojo's death and a funeral service for him. Forgive me if the funeral may seem culturally inaccurate. Hopefully, no characters come across as too OOC, but some of these characters are hard to get right when they don't have much room to shine their personality in canon.

Glossy nails trail the white engraved letters and numbers above the matte black. She forgot to give back his credit card. The last time she used it was Hallo--

Hall--

October 31st.

October.

That fucking month with that fucking day. Like an alarm that keeps ringing and a clock that won’t move forward fused together.

The month of horror, trick or treating, and bloody exploding eyeballs. The month were kids face real horror, not those stupid dumb skeletons, werewolves, and vampires. The kind of horror that will make someone either sample death or have it as their final meal.

31st should have ended with her rocking the clothes she picked up eight hours before that fight. Gojo should have been eating endless candy and telling them “Job well done!” in that stupid annoying comforting voice of his. Not boxed away and expecting his students to come out on top in the chilly wild.

She didn’t even see him die. She didn’t get to say her final words to him that just would have amounted to...

“If you die your card is mine forever. So die, okay?”

She couldn’t even say her fucked up, dark, cruel joke that was a mask of “Please don’t fucking die”.

Why couldn’t I move?

Why wasn’t I awake?

Why wasn’t I present?

Who wants to hear recollections of what happened between October 31st and December 24th? She wanted to help out with the Culling Games. She wanted to see the great battle of Sukuna vs. Gojo. She wanted to finally meet this Yuta kid and see everyone’s reaction to him coming back. She wanted to save Megumi when Yuji couldn’t. Picking up the pieces of Yuji’s mistakes. Being that deciding factor that could have prevented so much bullshit.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! Why wasn’t I here?

Her only eye stings, blinking two tears to fall on the muted black card. The heartache trails down to the 2754 of the four-part row of digits. Nobara quivers her lips as she tries to swallow down pills of regrets, exclusion, and despondency.

Residing dust forces a couple of coughs out of Inumaki. He waves off the floating particles and goes for the next book off Gojo sensei’s shelve. He grabs the spine of the book and slowly pulls it out.

He gave up being curious on the subject matter of these books once he cleared the first row. Just of bunch of thick, mind-numbing pieces on Jujutsu, Cursed Energy, or Autobiographies on retired sorcerers.

Turning from the back cover, in red bold letters his purple eyes reads: Learning Sign Language for your students. Written by... sounds like a random Japanese woman with some fancy doctor degree.

Narrow eyes widen as confusing experiences lingering in his memory begin to click and warp into sense.

On the third day of his first year, he remembers cringing at Gojo’s attempt to speak random rice ball ingredients to him. That was his “way” of trying to connect with him. Offended, Inumaki wrote him off and ignored any potential conversation to have with him at that point.

Around early June, he walked up to see Gojo silently greeting him with fluid movements of his hands and fingers. As fluent as someone who been signing JSL for several years. Was that the reason he stopped trying to conversate with him three weeks prior?

Taken back, Inumaki slowly signed back, leading to having their first full conversation ever. It ended with Gojo patting him on the shoulder and Inumaki turning to watch his goofy sensei walk off in a cheerful mood.

Inumaki caresses the book and notices the personal sticky notes poking out of many pages. He looks behind him to see Panda pre-occupied. Inumaki sets the book in his bag, setting it aside to read through later. He shakes his head and stares at the half empty shelve for a long moment before continuing his duty.

Panda was busy distracting himself with Satoru’s doodads instead of effectively cleaning out his office. Throw in the fact that it was a journey to simply carry things that would have taken him a few seconds to put away had he been in his original big body. But the funeral starts in a few hours so he has to stop monkeying around soon.

Panda frowned. There was barely any time to “monkey around” ever since Satoru died. It seems like when he died, he took the fun and security with him. Did most of his friends grow to be so powerful from the battle on Shinjuku? Sure, they’re practically monsters at this point.

But for a long time, Satoru’s level of strength gave them breathing room to take off the sorcerer mask sometimes. Now that he’s gone, there was no room to be a kid anymore. His friends are teenagers cursed with adult responsibilities; the rest of their adolescence stripped away like a bloody band aid.

He’s a panda so he doesn’t really understand that feeling. However, he sees it with the forced smiles he’s greeted one second with frowns pulling them down moments after. Desensitized responses they all show in public contrasted with the quiet weeping he hears going on late night campus walks. It will always give him emotional whiplash.

Life after Satoru was a canvas board of still grey with overwhelming dark blue surrounding it.

Panda opens a brown box to see a bunch of stuffing peeking out. Dropping down, he turns the box around to see in black marker: Spare stuffing for Panda.

Panda releases a deep sigh. He feels his stitches ache all over.

Loose blue strains spills over the wholesome photo of her and Gojo that day. A day where her biggest concern was not looking stupid in front of the cute, strong, funny teacher at the Tokyo campus of Jujutsu High. A day where her classmates bickered with coal still in their eyes. A day when Mai was cranky and alive. When Mechamaru...

Miwa shuts her eyes as her tears soaks her eyelashes. Blurry eyes open to take in the photo that seem like centuries ago, when it was only since September. Gojo’s peace sign and shared chipper smiles fill the holes in Miwa’s heart for a moment. Her thumbs zoom in on Gojo and lingers over his tall figure dominating most of the selfie.

A small smile forms behind the isolated blues. “Gojo...”

Kusakabe groans, rubbing the back of his head whenever his mind wanders to that blue eyed trouble maker. There were days he enjoyed the consistent stillness without that loudmouth breaking it. Then there were others where the silence was drowning; his cheery, obnoxious voice completely void to lift up everyone’s spirits when needed. Today was one of those days.

Twirling his toothpick, he remembers the countless times Gojo annoyed the hell out of him with his comments and pranks. There wasn't a day where he wouldn’t drag one of the Jujutsu faculty and staff in his shenanigans. So bad that one-time Gojo went too far and it ended with Kusakabe wishing he was dead.

Be careful what you wish for, I guess.

Kusakabe looks up at the passing clouds trailing through the blue. For such a day for Jujutsu High, the sky didn’t reflect the collective feeling. The man bats his eyes as the ambient nature lures him into a still mind.

“Kusakabe!? Are we serious right now!?” One of the higher ups barked.

Gojo shakes his head, “Is there ever a day you guys don’t bitch about--”

“I agree that sending me would be a horrible idea.” Kusakabe interrupted. Gojo turns to see Kusakabe wearing a “Yes sir. No sir.” attitude. He knew he was lying.

Kusakabe has been looking forward to a sorcerer mission like this ever since he met him. A mission where all you do is investigate and gather information, no risking your life, no fighting at all really. More like a trip out on Japan’s quiet grassy countryside with a side quest of being an undercover sorcerer representing Jujutsu High.

Gojo steps forward. “Kusakabe is our best grade 1 sorcerer. He’s no fighter and a nice guy for the most part. He would be better to talk to lame country folk than I am...”

The elders remain silent. Kusakabe can feel the tension rising. “Gojo, you don’t have to--”

“I got too much other shit going on to do some boring mission in the countryside. If you send me instead of him then you guys are more senile than I thought.”

“Gojo!” Kusakabe quickly turned to the many shoji screens hiding the higher up’s bodies. The fact that he had no idea how they were reacting put his worry in overdrive.

One of the elders sighs, “We don’t feel like arguing with you on this. If you truly think Kusakabe of all people would fit this mission then so be it. But if he fails this, he will suffer the consequences. His mistakes are not on us.”

“When is it ever on you?” Gojo bounced back.

“Dismissed.” The other elder said.

Once they left the room, Gojo wraps his arms around Kusakabe shoulders and bellowed out his carefree laugh. “Don’t forget to bring me back some gifts. You owe me afterall.”

Kusakabe lowers his head away from the blue and moving white to face the cracked, washed solid grey.

His heart didn’t ache for Gojo. Tears didn’t trail down for him either. But the crumbs of memories made him appreciate the little explosive highlights he gave his boring, uneventful life. Like those popping candies that felt like fireworks in your mouth.

Yeah, Gojo was those popping rock candies.

Hakari holds the stack of yen as the various fights go on the multiple T.V. screens. Licking his thumb, he counts through the overwhelming amounts of money from his lucky bets. Although he’s been hanging around Jujutsu High more as of recent, lately everything has been about Gojo, his death and preparing for his funeral. All of the mope and serious mumbo jumbo was getting to Hakari, so he retreated to his fight club.

“When does it start?” Kirara asked, her pink french tips gently caressing his ashy blonde thick hair.

Hakari shrugs, “Donno. Seems like everyone is too depressed to talk n’ shit.”

Banding up the yen, Hakari montages the times Gojo left him feeling the fever he often seeks out of many.

Training him so hard he puked the rest of that day. Pushing him to go after Kirara and teasing him about his crush. Giving him shitty relationship advice. That one time they did that silly pose where they flashed their teeth then flexed their muscles for the camera. Cheating Gojo out of thousands of yen over a wrong move during Blackjack.

Hakari traces the numbers of the yen, smirking over the fun times that crazy man with the blindfold gave him.

Two streaks of damp wet are noticed when the wind sway past Ijichi’s jawline. Another dam of woe threatens to burst until he quickly wipes his sore undereye. He doesn’t even know why he’s getting so emotional over someone who and still--

Not sill. Damnit brain, get with the program.

Someone who used to bully him relentlessly ever since they were kids up until just a few weeks ago. To him, Gojo was nothing but...

Why are you still here? Need me to punch you to get the message?

You failed you’re driving test again? You can’t even do that? Go join a local circus at this point.

Shoko is out of your league, man. You don’t even have the balls to talk to her. How can you expect her to like you.

Ijichi, don’t piss me off.

A guy like that doesn’t deserve his tears. Nope, not at all...

The only person I trust to catch me if I fall is me and, um, Ijichi I think.

Wanna go out for some hot cocoa? It’s freezing today.

Well, well, well. You finally took Shoko out for dinner, huh? I guess the world is ending soon. So, how did it go?

Look, Ijichi may be a wet doormat but he’ll get things done for us and the students. C’mon guys, give him more credit than that.

Ijichi huffs a stuttered breath. Nope. Nope. No. No. No--

You’re the man I trust the most. That’s the only reason I need.

Ijichi breaks down. A new coat of tears staining his dry skin. His wrung heart soaked again with a grief too complex to explain.

Cigarette smoke brush past Shoko’s dry, dull brown hair. No tears had nor will shed for her childhood friend. She wasn’t a crier, even when she was little. When her father died a long time ago, not one tear dropped.

Instead, there was heavy rocks that magically weighed in her chest. A weight too heavy for her slim body to carry. A weight she dismisses publicly but can’t ignore in private. So, in true Shoko fashion, she grabs a pack of ciggies and breaks her 11th vow to never smoke again. Looking out on the campus field, her eyes strain with stress and lack of sleep. Her heavy heart was to blame this time.

“Can’t believe I’m being peer pressured right now.” Gojo says in a jokingly nervous tone.

Shoko lifts up the cigarette, unlit and waiting. “I’m tired of being “The Smoker Chick” of our school. It’s always so lonely smoking by myself.”

“Regardless if I smoke this or not, you’ll always be “The Smoker Chick”.”

“Gojo please.”

Gojo sighs and contemplates the nicotine stick itching to ruin someone’s lungs. He was far from being a goody too shoes but smoking wasn’t his thing.

“You’ll look so cool doing it. It’ll just be between us.” Shoko persisted.

Gojo rolled his eyes and snatched the cig from her. He placed it between his perfect, straight whites and waited a moment before turning to Shoko. Shoko stood in disbelief until Gojo snapped his fingers in front of her.

“Well hurry up and light it!” Shoko quickly digs in her pocket and lights the white end. It takes a few seconds for the cigarette to burn before smoke waves out of the tip. Gojo inhales then blows out a line of smoke effortlessly. Shoko gasps, “How did you not cough?”

“Duh! Look who you’re talking to.”

“Oh...yeah. Right.”

The juxtaposition of Gojo’s divine-like aura and angelic appearance partaking in the trashy, commoner act of smoking was a sight to behold. Almost like he gave a middle finger to his reputation as the strongest sorcerer and decided to be a normal dude for once. Shoko remembers judging Gojo’s bougie attitude during freshman year. She saw his snobbish nature a mile away before he even introduced himself to the class. One thing about Gojo though, he never failed to surprise her with his willingness to bring himself down from heaven.

Shoko is dazed by Gojo puffing out a few quick smokes before she is presented a hit.

“This shit tastes awful. How do you smoke these every thirty minutes?” Gojo barfed his tongue out.

Shoko giggles and breathes in the loud smoke that always hugs her brain. “Helps me stay numb to the bad stuff in the world.”

Although that was Gojo’s first and last time ever smoking, their budding friendship springs tenfold.

Shoko was back at that same spot they wasted their youth a decade and so ago. Only there was no arrogant, annoying but funny classmate to secretly cast her judgement on anymore. What only remains is a cigarette and a woman who had an uneventful life outside of being a sidekick to Gojo’s adventures.

She takes another hit, her tongue recoils at the cigarette taste. Now she gets what he meant back then.

The drizzling rain show no signs of giving nature a break from the drab, cold atmosphere. Megumi lays against his cushioned but firm mattress, his brain refusing to move his body. Tears quietly drip down to damp the grey sheets, adding to the collection of wet dots on his bed. The air condition overpowered the pitter-patter behind the window. The dull sound clearing his head to reflect his whirlwind called life these past couple months.

Countless memories punched his mind. There was so many foggy, forgettable memories of Gojo growing up. His attempt to give them meaning and higher resolution gave him a slight headache.

First his sister then--

Gojo.

He saw it while being a few feet away; Gojo’s blood forming small puddles, leaving his body with his life tagging along. The tired whisper of “My bad, Megumi.” a few moments before his eyes went still. He couldn’t even respond due to that curse going on about some dumb speech after almost getting both of them killed.

Sukuna.

Heat overwhelmed his body as soon as the name rung. He hates him. He hates him. He hates him. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Red and blue hatred evolves into purple flames the longer it sits, burns, and melds. Never has he felt so much rage off a name alone.

Blood on his hands without the purpose and maliciousness to back it up. Sukuna was gone but the damage will never fade away. It’s here to overstay it’s welcome and haunt him forever.

“Good riddance.” Maki lets the intrusive thoughts travel to whispers.

Alone in the tidy bathroom, she struggles to create grief over someone that just annoyed her most of the time. The only one she believes deserved her grief was her sister, Mai.

Don’t get her wrong, she respected the hell out of Gojo’s strength. But the only solid memories she has of him is sending her favorite junky snacks whenever it was her time of the month and excused her from class that week.

Other than that, he was like a gnat that wouldn’t get out of your face. Loud for no reason. Failed to read the room. Teased her about Yuta, even during the time he went to Africa. Pestering her about dumb school shit. Yeah, that’s the Gojo she knows. Not this revisionist history almost everyone on campus is crafting for him now that the bastard is gone gone.

Yuta and Gojo had a closer relationship than others students, which unfortunately, makes him stricken with the depressing “Gojo is gone” epidemic too. But compared to him and the Jujutsu High students and staff, he actually has good reason to grieve.

It’s just too overwhelming to deal with for more than an hour. She had to get a breather from seeing someone she cares about so defeated emotionally. She seen Yuta cry before but not to this extent, not this long either.

Another round of sobs scolds her indifference to Gojo as they breakthrough the thick bathroom door. Maki looks down and moves her toes against the maroon bathroom rug to build back her patience and tolerance. Letting out a short breath, she pushes herself off the sink and keeps her stoic disposition.

A blank, emotionally collected expression that means well beneath the surface.

Yuta cries drag out as he lays on the floor. Maki shifts when she places a palm against his back, not sure how to handle his anguish and piercing sobs.

Thankfully, Yuta’s dorm was positioned to be isolated at the end of the hall. The other male student's dorms are spaced out from each other so he didn’t have any direct neighbors. But still, his mourning was loud enough to hear muffles across his front door.

“Yuta.” Maki said.

She didn’t know what to say exactly. She, like many other Zenins, weren’t the best when it came to nurturing. Even though she feels nothing about Gojo dying, she feels everything seeing her best friend so ...devastated.

Yuta looks up at her for a long moment, tears trailing by the second, lips quivering, throat tight with words he can no longer say to his sensei. He hugs her waist and cries into her chest.

“I used him, Maki. He’s gone and the first thing I did was use him. It should have been--”

“Stop. Don’t finish that. It shouldn’t have been anyone else instead. He did what he had to do for us to win.” Maki comforted. Yuta shakes his head, unable to accept logical reasoning.

“I-I-I...” He sucks in his breath after every attempt to speak. "I didn’t even get to say--”

Yuta hurls, his mouth seconds away from bursting open. Maki quickly goes for the bucket and puts it under his head. He pukes for the third time today, projecting out yesterday's lunch and dinner that he ate too little of. Maki sighs and pats his back to get him to vomit it all out. Ever since he returned back to his original body, Yuta has been puking whenever he thinks about the most fucked-up stunt he ever pulled.

Once Yuta was done, he sobs tamed down to a string of lingering cries. He didn’t bother to change his shirt or wipe the corners of his mouth. Maki grabbed a tissue and cleaned up the small bits of vomit around his mouth. She heads back into the bathroom to clean out the half-filled blue bucket yet again.

Looking up, he sees a framed picture of him and Gojo during his time in Africa. Gojo had him in a headlock whilst making him laugh about something he hates that he can’t remember. Yuta heart swells, the picture clearly being taken off guard by Miguel. Another wave of sorrow drowns him the longer he stares at Gojo in his white dress shirt, sunglasses, alive and well...

Yuta face scrunches, a fresh sting of tears falling down. He lays down on the cold floor, allowing the grief to lure him to sleep.

Yuji rubs over his face, a stubborn migraine pinching his thoughts. Snot leaking to tease the tip of his tongue. Eyes in desperate need of a bottle of eyedrops to make up for the tiny streams it released the past few hours. His mind was active but his body was lazy, lying on his bed through the whole morning. But he had to get this eulogy done, if nothing else.

“He was unserious when things were tense. He trolled...whether you were a man, woman, or child. He’d... He’d... He-- dammit!”

He turns on his stomach and picks up the paper again. He reads over the line again, then two more times to write it on his memory.

“Hell, he’d even walk in your dorm to check on you only to leave with your house slippers moments later.”

Again.

“Hell, he’d even walk in your dorm to check on you only to leave with your house slippers moments later.” Yuji groans.

“Don’t say hell, that might not fly well.” He scolded himself.

Yuji sets the paper on his nightstand so his brain can have a break. He read over his eulogy so many times that his mind is starting to slip with the constructed presentation he went over since last night. It doesn’t help that throughout this practicing, he’s been crying whenever he gets lost in thought about Gojo-sensei. Maybe he needs to cool down a bit.

On the edge of his window sits one of Gojo’s many blindfolds. Yuji reaches over with minimal effort and caress the fabric. Black cotton comforts his fingertips while Yuji gives this simple thing a soft gaze. The very first thing he noticed about that strange looking man on that life changing night.

Scenes of warm and fun premiere from his memory bank, each starring Gojo sensei. Smiles to laughter with jokes, ease, and good food in between.

Sensei steals a fry from Nobara’s--

Sliced open. Blood dripping down white baggy pants and black combat slippers. Torso on the ground. Harsh ice blue still yet soft. Live and unskippable. Live with no rewinds. Sukuna’s joy celebrated in the wrong body. No more rough ruffles on the head. No more boring lessons elevated by high-energy humor and multiple tangents of his glory days.

Yuji winces and attempts to rub out the migraine and horrible memories intruding the good. There is a knock on the door. “You’re not naked are you?” Nobara voice is heard from behind the door.

Yuji shakes his head as if Nobara could see. “No.”

Nobara walks in, remnants of rain dripping from her raincoat. She had a blank face, her usual energy turned down a few notches. “Hey.”

Yuji barely lifts up a wave, still smoothing out his nerves. “Hi.”

“So everyone is either busy or depressed so you’re my last hope around here.” Nobara confessed. Yuji lifted up the eulogy, “Can’t. Too busy.”

Nobara sucks her teeth then observes Yuji’s face. “You look like you’re more in the too depressed camp than the too busy one.”

“Yeah, that too.”

Nobara walks over and grabs the eulogy. Yuji lays back down, “Since you’re here, I need to clarify one last thing for my speech. Did sensei buy you those tampon things or those purple diapers?”

Nobara stops reading and shoots him a look. “Why are you broadcasting my period for the whole Jujutsu High to hear?”

“It’s supposed to be one of the many things Gojo did for us as students. I couldn’t think of anything else, cut me some slack.”

Nobara sighs, “He used to get me pain meds and a bunch of tampons whenever my cramps would go into overdrive. And it’s called pads, not purple diapers.”

Yuji nodded and formed a curve of a smile. “Thanks, Kugisaki.”

“I could go and hang out with some girls I know from other schools but it looks like the rain is getting worse. What time is the funeral anyway?”

“It’s in four hours, around two I think.”

Nobara nodded, “Guess I’ll just go back to my dorm and sulk like everyone else. See you later.” She gets off to leave. “Oh, save me a seat too.”

Yuji nodded with a frown, not having enough optimism left to give fake smiles. “Sure, see you.”

Alone again, Yuji picks up the worn white sheet with creases and wrinkles. Headache tamed, he decides to recite again. You can never be too polished.

“Gojo-sensei was a...”

Todo sheds single strings of tears while many games of ping pong against Gojo replays in his mind. Besides Mei Mei, Gojo was his common partner in his favorite sport. Now that he’s gone, he had no one to slam “cheating” allegations to in an intense game during the humid, long summer afternoons.

Ui Ui sniffles as he looks down, avoiding the blunt reality of the casket up ahead. He wasn’t the biggest acquaintance of Gojo but a few moments of the past built a friendly nature between them. His briberies of fried bananas to get direct access to Mei Mei. Being a one-man audience (he slept through his blindfold) for spoken word poetry he wrote about his sister when no one else bothered to hear. Gojo never failed to match his childish energy when other adults or big kids were “too busy” to entertain him. The boy’s quiet sniffles prompted a head rub from his older sibling.

The pointy ends of Mei Mei’s red nails pierce through her left palm. Her right palm comforts the juvenile emotions of her baby brother. Her face remains calm but blue fire bursts in her heart.

1.5 Million yen. All that rich fuck had to do is pay me 1.5 million yen back and what does he do? Fuck around and die. Hmph! He probably died to cheap his way out of his debt. Damn you Satoru Gojo. Damn him.

Ino stood with his ski-mask firm against his chest, looking forward with respect. Gojo was more like an older brother than a co-worker. Despite the pain he feels, he refuses to look away from the body.

Momo stands next to Miwa, people watching the many guests standing in line to pay their personal respects to the body. As soon as she came, she made sure to grab the nearest seat and keep her head down. Dead bodies always freaked her out. People always assumed she be fine with that kind of stuff since she gives “witchy” vibes but no way. It was the way the body just sat there, all sense of spark or fire vanished. Also, that silly fear that a dead body will raise and walk towards her. God, she hopes they close the casket soon.

Kirara hugs on to Hakari’s arm as she quietly weeps to herself. Hakari wasn’t the “comforting” type but all she needs from him was his arm and shoulder for support. During the time it was her vs. the conservative Jujutsu World when she decided to transition, Gojo was one of the few who had her back. She has his support from the moment she began dressing feminine all the way to the moment she began going by Kirara. It wasn’t a problem for Gojo to call her by her true name right away since he thought her dead name was forgettable as hell.

Sure, Gojo wasn’t perfect and had his moments where his views were a bit dated, but he was willing to own up to his mistakes and learn for the better. She’ll never forget the stereotypical girly shit he would buy her because he didn’t know her personal taste that well, not that she even knew at the time either. Corny gifts and unconditional support are why her mascara and eyeliner were messy all around her under eye.

Most attendees dressed in purple while others sulked in black. Ages from teen to end of the road mingled together within a pot of grief, visible respect, and reservation. Some felt internal relief that the bastard was gone. Some cried harder than they would if their actual father died.

Gojo lied still in a polished classic black casket, wearing a blank emotion that he would hate everyone to see. His cut, pieced back by Shoko, was barely noticeable. If you weren’t given the details of his death, you’d probably would question how he died. The line to view his body was beginning to reach its end, preparing everyone to mentally checkout for an hour and a half.

A collected Megumi stared at Gojo in a distracted haze. It was stupid, but he felt like Gojo was playing some sick prank and he’s going to pop out and yell some stupid shit any second now. The longer he stares at the body’s lack of movement, the confirmation rings hollow in his mind. Thankfully Nobara and Yuji kept to themselves, because he’s not in the mood to make idle small talk to take their mind off the obvious.

Yuta’s sorrow could be heard faintly throughout the large quiet space but not loud enough to distract from the ceremony. His tears took all of the moisture from his face, leaving him paler than usual. Messy black hair clashed with his neat tux that took forever to fit him in. It was a miracle for Maki to get him in that, let alone bring him here.

It was a tough sight to see as Yuta was now regarded as the strongest sorcerer of the upcoming generation. Yuta usually had a friendly, shy demeanor around his peers while being focused and stoic during battle. It was rare to see such a rock morph into glass, his pieces laid for the whole institution to see.

Yuta could care less, the repercussions of his public image being in an awkward, pitiful state wasn’t even a thought in the thick of his pain. He could repair that with time and his rapid growing reputation. This is the last time he’ll ever see Gojo-sensei and his heart can’t take it.

Throughout most of the service, Yuji idly stares at Gojo-sensei’s memorial card. A portrait of him wearing a bright, goofy smile placed above the December 7th, 1989 - December 25th, 2018 felt like visual whiplash. Yet, he kept staring at it until a microphoned call of his name lifts his head up.

“Itadori-kun, are you still going to read your eulogy for us today?” Ijichi directs, slightly confused of Yuji’s zoned out state.

“Oh, yeah, for sure. Just...” Yuji grabs the piece of paper from Nobara’s lap and scoots through the aisle. He walks up to the podium, feeling stares and invisible opinions hover over his back. He gently grabs the mic from Ijichi and sets his eulogy across his face.

Looking up, the stares feel more intense as the rows and rows of straight-faces set social anxiety in his stomach. It was weird, he usually had no problem speaking publicly to an audience, he was a social butterfly after all. Funerals love throwing everyone’s vibe off, even a generally confident one like his, he assumes.

“Um, hi guys—hi everyone.”

He quickly goes over the first line to trigger his trained memory to make the speech sound fluent and genuine. He prays to whoever is listening to not let his mind go blank at a time like this.

“Gojo sensei was a goofball.”

The silence screams for a moment as the opening line registers in everyone’s minds. A few chuckle, most keep their solemn unimpressed looks, while others are not even on this planet. Yuji clears his throat.

“He was unserious when things were tense. He trolled you whether you were a man, woman, or child. Hell, he’d even walk in your dorm to check on you, only to leave with your house slippers moments later.” Many students laughed at the last comment. Yuji looks up and chuckles along, a confidence block stacked.

“He wasn’t a teacher who sugar-coated things, his words were more salt-coated. It stings from being so blunt, but it was needed in order for you to have more flavor.” Yuji takes a quick scan and sees that more people are in tuned with his words. Second block stacked.

“Growing up, I only had my grandfather for family. So while I kinda knew what it was like to have a dad, I spent a good portion of my life taking care of him during his last years so I forgot what it felt like. Gojo reminded me of that feeling.”

“He gave life advice outside of teaching. He would take us out for ice cream after missions. One time, he bought those weird tampon things and sea salt caramel ice cream for Nobara during her...y’know.” Nobara gives him a look after he shoots a nervous chuckle her way.

“He would walk Megumi’s dogs on Saturday mornings. He’d crack a joke in sign that only Inumaki-senpai would understand. He was tough on me, Hakari-senpai, and Okkotsu-senpai during training because he wanted us to take advantage of the potential we couldn’t see. He was...”

Yuji looks up to see Yuta staring at him with teary but curious eyes, desperate to know what he’s about to lay on the crowd next. Yuji directs a small, sympathetic smile at him then looks down.

“He was our constant entertainment during the long, boring hours of our jobs. He unlocked the laughter and ease that we often hid to condition ourselves so we could endure the next mission. He made hell feel like home. He was our Gojo-sensei when the world just saw him as Gojo Satoru.”

Tears don’t hold back on some folks faces. What they expected to be a generic but appropriate eulogy turned out to be an off-beat, heartfelt, kinda corny eulogy written by a dude who loved his teacher. A rare case of a dude who isn’t clever with words evoking more emotions out of a crowd more than any writer ever could.

“I’m sure some of you struggle to move forward with this loss. Some of you may simply be here to pay respects and move on with their lives preferably without sensei. Or you may be like me, someone just going through the motions and may not know what to do, say, think, or feel. But Gojo-sensei is gone and all we can do is reflect on the echos of his existence.”

Yuji lets out a deep breath, satisfied to have gotten through his eulogy, the weight off his shoulders. His eyes flickers to see many nodding at his last statement. He scans through his last sentence and nods to himself to bring it home.

“Thank you, Gojo-sensei, for being the goofball with the blindfold and thank you all for listening.” Everyone except the elders clapped for Yuji, moved by his honest words and pure approach. Yuji didn’t register the applause nor Ijichi’s transition to the next segment since his heart was pounding against his left chest.

There was another wrinkle added to the eulogy when he goes to sits back down. He stares at his knees to contemplate his social triumph. Nobara looks at him and pats his upper back while Megumi simply gives him a blank look, jailing his “Good job.”. Yuji breathes deep through his nose and gives himself little nods, back in his own world to process those past few minutes.

The rest of the service goes smoothly, time moving quicker due to Yuji black flashing through the seemingly unbreakable ice. After the main service, many students and staff agreed to meet at the school yard where the funeral bonfire repast will be held.

While Gojo was being cremated, the bonfire turned out to be a lively celebration of life after so much grief wrung at the service. Snow trinkled down amongst the light conversations, coping dark humor, taste bud-rising food and drinks, and tear stains. Taking a break entertaining his peers, Yuji looked up to admire the floating ice. His irises went up and down, low right and high left, no different from when he saw snow as a kid. Laughter and smiles were behind Yuji, but all he can feel was the snow nurturing the child he locked away.

Ashes leave out of the hands of many, gliding above the flowers revived by spring. Cherry blossom petals dance with Gojo in the gentle wind. The early days of April was always Gojo’s favorite time of the year, it was only fitting that his departure was during its peak.

The new year of Jujutsu High begins without the blindfolded goofball to kick it off with overwhelming enthusiasm and junior high-level jokes. Second years, third years, and even the students that graduated are moving forward after months of mental detours. Now, there was a fresh set of first years oblivious to the horrors and traumas that awaits them. It’s a pity they won’t have that funny man in the sunglasses to help them endure their next twelve months of hell.

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loquaciousquark · 11 hours ago

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you have been my #1 favorite fanfic author of all time for like 7-8 years now for your fenhawke and ive always thought "god i would give anything for quark to write solavellan" but i respected that it wasnt your thing. so imagine the pure unbridled euphoria of checking in on your blog this week to see that he finally got to you. i actually screamed. whatever you come up with i know it is going to absolutely change my life and i am so excited <3

i’m so. sad. i'm SO sad. i was so happy for a decade just being mildly annoyed every time he crossed my dash and now i am having feelings and opinions and i don’t WANT THEM and the only way to get rid of them is to write them out of me, this is why i don’t love fenris or astarion at all anymore obviously

and like, I still don’t love Solas! I still think some things he does and some goals he has are really, really stupid! but this character I created to love him really loves him, and I really love her and want her to be happy even though she lives only inside my head, and that means I need to lay down some structure around her romance to get the shape of it, to build something I can make sense of. I may not love him, but I like him much more than I did, and I certainly understand him better than I did the first time around.

And to be honest, there’s a part of me glad I’m coming to it as late as I have. I don’t think I’ve ever read a single Solavellan fic in my life (I actually had to pause here to check the spelling). I have NO idea what tropes are popular with him or what interpretations are the biggest. I have a lot of opinions on how his personality and identity work in a romance with this particular character I’ve created, but because I’ve been so siloed I have no idea if I’m bucking the grain or not, which is fine by me.

Plus, it helps I’m not going to have ten years to build up a lot of personal headcanons and jossable thoughts before playing the new game. I’m not someone who easily ignores canon when it clashes with my imagination for the major things, so I think this will (hopefully) keep me from major disappointments.

It's kinda funny; earlier today I was going back through my DAI tag and reminding myself of all my impressions from the first time I played the game. Some of them I definitely still stand by; others have completely changed. I even said twice that a Lavellan/Solas romance would be my next playthrough, which was true if ten years late.

But it's things like: apparently the first time through I loved Solas and Sera, both of which certainly were not true going into this replay. (I barely even have a memory of Solas and Priory ever being in the party together, though the historical records say I took him to Adamant.) I apparently had a lot of hopes Gideon Emery would be voicing Fenris. I originally thought Priory was going to romance Bull, which is very ?????? after all this time. (I did still, even then, know Here Lies the Abyss completely broke her as a character, and ten years on I never could fix her for good.)

I really did not expect to change my mind on Solas going into this replay, I guess is the point. I replayed because knowing the story of DAI and Solas, I felt it was a story most personalized to elves and specifically a Solas-romancing Lavellan, and that was the worldstate I wanted to take into the new game. I played it out because that's the kind of person I am (I can't just invent characters wholesale in my head) but I really thought it was going to be a perfunctory playthrough as a stepping stone to a different game and a different PC and (presumably) a different romance. I didn't expect to love this character as much as I do, and even if I don't have ten years to write her out the way I did Hawke, I feel like I still owe it to her & her doomed romance to give her a little time in the spotlight. Lucky girl!

#quark replies #Anonymous #solas #solavellan #adahla lavellan #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #quark plays dai #also there are some tortuous mixed metaphors in here that i'm not going to fix #but i am sorry for them

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365emotionlessfaces · 16 hours ago

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i’m literally so in love with her

The Aspiring Teachers Program

Part 4 WC:~1.8k

The next couple days came and went pretty much the same way. Melissa and her Aspiring One kept winning, or at least placing in the top three, and every time Melissa saw that bright smile, she found it harder to not kiss the girl. Their friendship had grown quickly over the past few days, and by the time dinner rolled around on the fourth day, they were practically inseparable. They had gotten so comfortable with each other, it almost felt weird to not be touching in some way or another, whether it was shoulders or knees touching, linking arms to walk around, or all out holding each other’s hands when they were only in need of one useful limb.

The days ended the same way, too. They would don their swimsuits and make their way to their private beach, laughing and bonding before dinner, which was also paired with laughs and smiles that neither of them would admit meant anything more. Her Aspiring one would tell her all the things she would do if she got to go home with Melissa, and Melissa allowed herself to imagine what it would be like. Having this pretty young thing there to treat her like a queen, all the time. Living a life with someone who went out of their way to do nice things and say nice things. She shook the thoughts from her head. This is just a kid. Even though Melissa knew that she’d be getting one helluva sweet deal, she knew that the kid had her whole life ahead of her, and Melissa would turn out to be the Joe in her life. Not being good enough for her.

So, instead Melissa would redirect the conversation and share horror stories from teaching, and when the girl didn’t waver in her dream of teaching, Melissa got to tell her all the things that made sharing her knowledge worth it.

They tried staying out as late as possible on the fourth night because they both knew that after dinner tomorrow, everyone would be packing up and heading back to their homes. Melissa couldn’t admit out loud that she wasn’t ready for this to end. Here was this girl promising Melissa the life she’d always wanted, and the redhead knew she’d have to give it up. So she just enjoyed her last night with the girl, and tried to push the dread for the morning out of her head.

Dreams came to Melissa fast, and unrelenting that night. Snippets of a life she could never have. Parent Trap sitting across from her at their table, eating dinner in the home they shared. Slow dancing in the living room while Burl Ives sings Christmas songs through the radio. Double dates with Barbara and Gerald. Looking through a maternity ward window at a tiny baby with a tiny bracelet that says SCHEMMENTI-

Melissa jolted awake and sat up quickly, mindful not to hit her head on the bunk above her. It was still dark, but almost out of instinct she looked across the room to Parent Trap’s bed. Melissa could just make out the silhouette of the young girl. She leaned against a post of the bed frame, and sighed.

‘I’m being ridiculous. I’ve got Joe at home to worry about, hopefully not for much longer, and what would Nonna say?’ Melissa huffed out a silent chuckle at the thought. ‘Might give ‘er a heart attack. Not even done with my divorce an’ I show up with a doll on my arm younger than the broad Joe had?’

After five minutes, the post was starting to dig into her back, so she decided to use the bathroom light to check her watch. When she saw she had ‘two freakin’ hours??’ until breakfast, she decided that she was gonna watch the sunrise from her little secret beach. As she dressed for the day, and exited the cabin as quietly as she could, Melissa hadn’t noticed that the star of her dreams had woken up.

Melissa only had about ten minutes between herself and nature before she heard footsteps approaching. She turned to see her Aspiring One with that beautiful smile, and those glittering eyes.

“Hey. Good mornin’, hon,” was the first words Melissa spoke for the day. Her voice was slightly groggy, despite being awake for a while now. She saw the young girl flush, and despite being slightly confused- she hasn’t blushed at ‘hon’ before-, she drank it in. This was the last day she’d ever get to see this gorgeous young girl and she’d like to spend it right by her side.

The girl took a seat next to Melissa and linked their arms before replying, “Morning, Em,” with a smile. The sun hadn’t made it over the trees across the small lake, but it was clear that it had come over the horizon behind them. The young girl didn’t say anything else, she just laid her head on Melissa’s shoulder. The redhead leaned her head against the top of the younger girl’s and they watched the sunrise in a comfortable silence. Melissa couldn’t help her mind wandering, imagining what it might be like to be able to wake up next to Parent Trap every day to watch the sunrise together.

After watching the beautiful colors cross the sky signaling the start of a new day, they pulled apart, but only slightly. “I’m really sad that we’re going home tonight,” the young girl said. Melissa hummed in agreement. “I really like you, Em. I wish we could go home together.” Melissa looked over to see the girl blushing again.

Melissa wished that, too, but she knew what she had to do. “Listen, kid-” The redhead was cut off when her Aspiring One placed their lips together softly. The kiss was brief, the young girl pulling away just as quickly as she had leaned in. Melissa had to use every ounce of self control not to throw everything out the window and just take the girl here on the beach.

“Sorry, I, uh, I just wanted to know what it would be like before you shot me down,” the girl said sheepishly. Melissa’s heart felt like it was shattering inside of her chest. They both knew what was about to come.

Melissa sighed before she spoke. The tears were already welling up in her eyes, so she looked down at her hands. “You’re young, you’re just a kid. You got your whole life ahead o’ ya. You’ve got school to go to, and I’ve got a divorce to win. I’d love nothin’ more than to be able to run away with you or somethin’, but I couldn’t do that to ya. It would never work, anyways. You need to go back home to Michigan, and go to school, and be the best teacher they ever see ‘round those parts.”

Melissa couldn’t bear to look back up to the girl. She finally let the tears fall when the girl stood and left, without saying anything more. Melissa couldn’t help but feel like she had just made the biggest mistake of her life.

The rest of the day went by in a blur. Melissa and her Aspiring Teacher won the last contest, of course, but the young girl only spoke to Melissa when she had to. Her voice was still full of kindness, but it wasn’t as enthusiastic, and her eyes had lost their sparkle. Was the shine in the girl’s eye just in Melissa’s imagination? Now that she had broken the girl’s heart, and her own, she couldn’t seeit anymore?

At dinner, Parent Trap sat with a group of kids her age, instead of with Melissa. The redhead, unable to stand being in the same room as the girl without being able to be right next to her, took her dinner to go. On her trek back to the cabin, she figured it wouldn’t hurt to get a headstart on packing. Entering the cabin, she looked to the bed where her Aspiring One had spent the last week, and sighed, tears welling up once more. She’d been on the verge of crying too many times today for her liking.

Sandwich in one hand, she tried to use the other to heave her suitcase onto the bed. You would think that it being almost empty would have made the task easier, but somehow Melissa managed to almost drop her sandwich, which made her let go of the suitcase to make sure her dinner stayed safe and edible with both hands. As the case went tumbling, it opened and out fell a little stuffed eagle, clearly handcrafted, wearing a Philadelphia Eagles jersey and denim shorts.

“Oh, Ronny! I forgot about you,” Melissa mumbled aloud. She had brought Ronny along in case they did somethin’ stupid, like a show and tell type thing. She then, of course, would have told them that he’s named after the quarterback playing for the Eagles the year she started teaching. She bent over to pick him up, and as she stood back up, she had an idea to end on better terms with the young girl that may or may not have stolen Melissa’s heart in the span of a week.

Melissa was pacing when Parent Trap returned from dinner. Her bags, long packed, sat near the door waiting for her.

“Hey. I was waitin’ for ya. I, uh, I didn’t wanna leave without saying goodbye and tellin’ ya that, uh, that I’m really glad I met ya,” the girl looked back at Melissa and frowned, but waited for the redhead to continue. Melissa reached down and grabbed Ronny from where she had set him on Parent Trap’s bed. “I hope I didn’t steer you away from teachin’, I still think you’d be amazing at it. This is Ronny,” Melissa held him out to the girl. “I got him from a student on the last day of my first year. I want you to have ‘im.”

The girl took the stuffed eagle before replying softly, “Thanks, Em.” Melissa looked at her while the girl smiled back at her, but Melissa could tell that the smile would never reach the girl’s eyes. Her still-not-sparkling-anymore eyes. Melissa sighed a ‘You’re welcome,’ before heading towards the door.

As she grabbed the handle of her suitcase, she turned to look at the girl one last time. “Maybe in the future, we’ll meet again. When you’ve finished school, and I’ve finished with the disaster in mine,” Melissa told the girl hopefully. She knew how unlikely it was. She only knew the girl’s first name, and the girl didn’t know her name at all. How would they even find each other?

“Yeah… maybe,” floated across the room softly and quietly. The girl didn’t even turn back to look at Melissa as she said it. Melissa just put her head down, and left the cabin. She cried in the taxi, and on the plane, and in the other taxi, and even a little bit once she was home.

Part Five

#lisa ann walter #melissa schemmenti x reader

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mastermindmiko · 3 days ago

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The goblin wars

Pairing: Regulus Black + reader

Summary: Regulus has been in a bad mood all day, and you try to figure out why

word count: 1.2k

warnings: mentions of regulus' bad family? I think that's all, but lmk if you find anything

Hey! if you think this didn't completely suck, feel free to check out my masterlist

“Spit it out.” I snapped at him. Regulus lifts his head up from his book, and looks at me feigning innocence. He’s been grumbling all day long, and I have no idea why. I give him a glare and say, “You’ve been in a sour mood all day long, did something happen or is history of magic that despicable?”

“It’s nothing.” He mumbles, and looks back at his textbook. I ignore the unconvincing response, and look back at my own essay for History of magic. I turn to look back at what Regulus’ wrote, hopefully to get a few extra points from his own essay to find out that the parchment paper is empty. It’s furthermore proof that something is wrong.

“Humph!” Regulus grunts, as he flips through one of the pages, aggressively. I blink a few times at his abnormal reaction, and then decide that I’ve had enough. I slam my own textbook shut, and take the book away from his hands. I say, “Alright, tell me, what’s wrong?”

“Nothings wrong, it’s just the goblin wars, that’s all.” Regulus negates, and then I give him a stern look. He purses his lips and looks away. I narrow my eyes at him, and stand up, “I’m leaving.”

“I am not going to spend my day with someone who doesn’t want to talk to me.” I protest. I pull out my bag from the chair beside me and start to put my papers and quills in there. He reaches out to take a hold of my hand and then pulls me down back to my seat. He mourns, “I’m sorry, alright, I’ll tell you.”

“Y-hm- spending too mu-hmph time wum lupihmph.” He mumbles, and I look at him confused. His face turns a slight shade of pink that he can never hide from me because of how pale his skin is. I tease him, “you’re going to have to use your big boy words for this, Reggie.”

“You’re spending too much time with Lupin.” He blurts, and out of all the possible reasons for his attitude that one was the least expected. I thought it would be a bad grade, or a letter from his parents, or possibly a fight with Sirius, but I never thought that this would be the reason. I couldn’t even understand what he meant. I inquired, “What do you mean?”

“I- forget it.” he backs down, and reaches out to grab his book once more. I take his hand in mine before he can take his book, and play with the rings on his fingers to calm him down. I affirm, “If you don’t want to talk it’s fine, but I want to know what’s bothering you. It’s all a part of being in a relationship.”

I understood that Regulus didn’t come from a family like mine. He had a hard time expressing himself. He couldn’t even tell me that he liked me for the longest time, we were simply just teetering with our feelings for months before I decided that it was time for more. He’s gotten better since the start of our relationship, but there was still a long way to go. All that mattered to me was his comfort, and I wanted him to feel like he could talk to me about anything.

“It seems as though, whenever you’re not with me or with your brother, you’re with him.” He confesses, and I squeeze his hand, reassuring him to continue, “You’re always with him, during breakfast, at the library, at the Quidditch stands, everywhere-”

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He asks, looking at me as if I’m a maniac when my concerned reassuring look turned into a very wide, teasing grin. I chuckle and he pouts at me which makes me chuckle even more. I giggle, “You’re jealous.”

“I am not jealous.” he corrects, and lets go of my hand and folds it in front of his chest, defensively. I can’t help but continue laughing as his face turns a darker shade of pink wright before my eyes. I laugh, “You’re really jealous.”

“Jealousy is not a word that I happen to be familiar with.” he defends, and looks away from me. I reach out to grab his cheek and turn his face to look at me. I bit my lip to prevent any laughs from coming out as I say, “Oh come on, don’t be like that. It’s cute.”

“It can’t be cute because I’m not jealous.” he says, and I let go of his face. My lips are spread thin as I try once more to contain my laughter, and feign a look of seriousness to lift my hands up in surrender and relent, “Alright, fine, you’re not.”

“But if you were, I’d tell you that there’s nothing to be jealous about, and that Remus is just a friend who happens to like the same books as I do, and doesn’t like to play Quidditch as well so instead watches the matches with me.” I reassure him, and I can see some of the tension ease away from his shoulders. He looks at me and then mumbles, “I like the same books you like too.”

His cute and shy pout and expression tugs at my heartstrings, and I can’t help but shoot out of my share and wrap my arms around him. It wasn’t often that Regulus was this open. As I breathe in his scent and cuddle myself closer to his chest, I feel just how important he is to me. The words fall out of my mouth before I can stop them, “I love you, Regulus.”

All the stiffness that had left his shoulders came back quick, and even more than before. I feel his hands pause around my waist, and I scrunch my face up in regret. I pull back and sit on my chair. I look down at my shoes, not wanting to look at his probably disgruntled expression. I choke, “Sorry, I don’t know what happened…”

“It’s okay.” He whispers, and I firmly close my eyes, and I ramble, “I don’t know why I said it like this, I know these things are hard for you, and I made the situation worse. This just isn’t the time or the place and I-”

“It’s okay.” He repeats, but I can’t bring myself to take it seriously, feeling the weight of my actions get heavier and heavier. I sigh, and place my head in my hands. I feel my eyes start to water, and I feel so completely stupid as I try to push them back. Regulus would feel even worse if he saw me cry.

“Hey…” he trails off and I blink back the tears that were threatening to escape and tilt my head up to look at him. Unlike what I expected, his eyes weren’t filled with pity and surprise. He gives me a soft smile before saying, “I love you too.”

“You do?” I gasp, lifting my head up from my hands, looking at him, bewildered. I burst, “I don’t want you just to say it for the sake of saying it back to me, I don’t want you to feel pressured or anything, or say anything that you’re not feeling, or-”

“I wouldn’t say it, if I’m not feeling it, love.” he admits, and I feel my eyes water once more. I waste no time to lean forward and press a soft kiss to his lips. He returns the kiss, enthusiastically and then he wraps his arms around me tighter. I felt as though I couldn’t breathe from the sheer amount of emotions I was feeling, or maybe because of how tight Regulus’ grip was, either way, I couldn’t be happier.

a/n: I have lost my ability to name things :( I need sirius help

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