#oh well she has like fifty dads to look after her | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

canadianfangurl-95 · 20 days

Text

Frankie Morales- Sugar Daddy edition

Summary: You are a teacher at a private school in Texas and your colleagues warn you about one of your new parents, Mr. Morales. When you meet him, you’re blown away by the rich, suave, and extremely handsome man. He soon begins pursuing you and you must choose between keeping your job or giving in to the infatuation you feel for this man as he showers you with gifts and admiration.

About: This is the beginning of the sugar daddies AU Triple Frontier collection where each guy will get a f x reader pov story. The events of Triple Frontier are changed; No Tom (we hate Tom in this house), the helicopter never crashes so they make it to the ocean without incident, each taking home $25 million dollars. But these guys are smart so naturally they’ve basically doubled their money by now. Takes place between 7-10 years after the events of the heist.

Frankie is divorced, no reason why explained. No mention of Frankies substance abuse.

Warnings: 18 + minors DNI, age difference, reader is in her 20s, Frankie is in late 40s, smut, oral f receiving (it’s Frankie duh), alcohol, swearing, daddy kink, squirting, basically buckle up kids it's gonna be a bumpy ride

Word Count: 12k +

Long Horn Academy, a private school for the oil tycoons and fortune five hundred owners of Texas to send their kids. It was the dream school for all teachers in the state. Good money, benefits, pension, everything you could ask for. Except of course for the elitist parents and children that treat you more like a servant than an educator. However, it was still better than the public school system that’s for sure. You waited years after teaching college on a supply teacher list in order to finally get your own classroom.

September came around and you were beaming with excitement going over everything you needed for your first year as a grade three teacher at this incredible school. You had gotten to know many of the other teachers at the school during your supply years, so before class started you mulled about the teachers’ lounge with your coffee, talking about everything the year has to bring. Oh, how little you truly knew about how life changing this school year would be.

“I just can’t believe I have my own class and room now! It’s been so exhausting dragging my book bag to every room in the building because I didn’t have a desk of my own.” You beamed to your colleagues, Mrs. Young and Ms. Campbell. Mrs. Young was a seasoned vet in the teaching field, at around mid-fifties, she always sported the most comfortable clothing but still so chic. Ms. Campbell was around your age, she had bright blue hair that caused quite a stir in the school until the principal deemed it a freedom of expression issue and shut the parents down. She wore their displeasure with her as a badge of honor.

Ms. Campbell smiled at you, “Hey girl you deserve it. I had your class a few years ago and they were actually really well behaved, save for this one snot nose kid Randall.” She scrunched her nose up at the memory of him throwing paint at her.

You laughed along, you too had shared a few run in with kids like that.

Mrs. Young interjected, “Oh, you forgot to tell her the best part.” she said to Ms. Campbell, gently swatting her arm and raising her eyebrows, hoping her friend would get the hint of what she was implying.

Ms. Campbells eyes widened, and she grinned at Mrs. Young, you looked between them, trying desperately to figure out this big news.

“You’re right, she’s gonna have Liliana Morales in her class.” Ms. Young stated with excitement.

You looked confused, “Who’s Liliana Morales?” you asked.

“Oh no sweetie, not who’s Liliana Morales, who’s Daddy Morales is the question you should be asking.” She hummed into her coffee, clearly pleased with the situation at hand.

Taken aback you replied, “Okay, who’s Daddy Morales?”

The two women nodded their heads to each other before Mrs. Young responded, “Honey, he’s a rich divorced dad.”

Not at all surprised you nodded, “Okay, that’s like seventy-five percent of the dads at this school, what makes him so special?”

She grinned, “Oh, you’ll see.”

You returned to your classroom ready for the day. Everything had been prepared meticulously in order to make a good first impression with the insanely high standards these parents had. Your room was decorated tastefully with a mix of colour and neutral tones, and you had prepared a tray of lemon bars for the parents to enjoy as they mulled around the room with their children. The parents were allowed to stay for the first period of the first day to get to know the teachers’ style and ask questions, as well as provide any educational information the teacher might need for the children.

Slowly, parents and students started arriving. The majority of them greeted you politely, a few blonde mothers in their Pilates outfits shook your hand with limp wrists, clearly not approving of your attire. They all wore Chanel and Louis Vuitton, labels far out of your budget. There are some teachers at the school that dressed the part, but they were not working with your new hire salary. So, Old Navy was where you got your work clothes.

Smiling politely, you grew more nervous as the crowd in the room became louder. There were so many strange faces you didn’t know how you would get through this first period. You stood near your desk, smoothing out your skirt when a tap on your elbow shifted your attention.

A tall man stood before you, with styled brown hair and a beard with a thick mustache. He wore a light tan blazer, a brown button down and dark jeans. His eyes were bright and brown like a baby cow. You gazed hopelessly into them before registering that he was trying to talk to you.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” You asked, embarrassed.

He smiled, “I’m Francisco Morales, Lilianas father.” He stated, reaching out his hand.

Morales? You thought, oh shit. This must be who the other teachers were referring to. He was so handsome your mouth went dry. You did your best to answer him, “Nice to meet you, I’m Ms. Smith.” You took his hand and shook it, feeling a spark of electricity as your fingers touched. You pulled it back and folded your arms, wondering if the feeling was all in your head or if he felt it too.

He smiled, “It’s mighty nice to meet you too. Liliana is very excited for this year.”

You nodded, “That’s great, I’ve heard good things about you- her, sorry I’ve heard good things about her.” You tucked your hair behind your ear and begged for someone to interrupt.

Unluckily for you, he stayed right at your side without wavering. “How long have you been teaching?” he asked, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans and leaning on his left leg.

“I’ve been a substitute here for five years and this is my first full time role.” You answered, a little more confidently this time you may add.

Mr. Morales nodded politely, “Well I think that’s great, always good to get some fresh young minds in here to teach us old people a thing or two.” he said, adjusting his sleeve length under his blazer and giving you a kind wink.

You nodded, “I’m glad you’re happy, that makes at least one of you.” You said quietly, more to yourself than anyone else, and looked around the room at the parents swiftly critiquing the lesson plan you had posted.

He looked around at the crowd of people and then at you, noticing how uncomfortable you were. “Hey, don’t give any mind to these people. They’re not happy with anything, trust me.” He leaned in and rested his hand on your elbow. You looked at his kind and sympathetic eyes and immediately swooned. He was so handsome it made you sick, and of course he had to be nice as well. What the hell have you gotten yourself into here. No, no, you thought. It’s just a little crush, you’re sure it will pass.

You smiled kindly at his assuring comment, and he retreated to the back of the classroom, following where his daughter had ended up. You slowly moved behind the desk at the front of the classroom and tapped your fingers on it, now was a better time than ever to get this show on the road.

Clapping your hands together, you alerted the attention of the class that you would be starting. You were met with bounds of questions and critiques from the parents, you swallowed your breath so many times with your nerves you thought you might pass out. Save for Mr. Morales, he stood in the middle of the back of the room, leaning against the large window overlooking the soccer fields with a calm resolve on his face. You let your gaze linger on him far too many times, but you couldn’t help it. Each time you did, his kind eyes soaked your heart with contentment and made your knees weak.

Finally, after almost every parent had cited their concerns, you felt yourself slightly dampened. You took a deep breath looking at the clock. “So, we only have another minute left before the period is over and we break for snack so does, anybody, have any other questions or comments?” Your breath broke during the sentence, hoping not to be met with any more judgement or you might cry.

Just as a particularly snarky mother was about to raise her hand, Mr. Morales quickly popped himself off the window and took a few steps forward. “I would just like to say, I am so excited to see what you have to bring to this class this year.” He spoke confidently but kindly, and seemingly only to you. His eyes burned into yours and made your heart flutter. “I cannot think of a better teacher, to take care of our kids.” He finished.

You offered him a thankful grin and nod, “Thank you, Mr. Morales. I’m really happy to be here.” You held your hands together in front of you. Trying not to break your resolve.

The sound of the bell filled the room and you let go of the breath you didn’t know you were holding. You nodded politely as the parents said their goodbyes and the children rose to get their snacks.

Mr. Morales suddenly appeared at your side, “Thank you for this, you did a great job.” he said, before backing away to the door. Not before sneakily looking you up and down.

Your eyes widened, and your heart skipped a beat. This is going to be trouble.

As the months moved along Mr. Morales’ flirting got more and more obvious. Bringing you coffee and treats in the morning, lingering after pickup to chat with you, that stupid gorgeous smile leaving you desperate for more of his attention. You learned that he and his wife divorced when Liliana was a baby and he shared custody but as the school was on the way to work, he picked her up and dropped her off even if she was his ex’s house. He told you that he owns a construction company and purchased it fairly recently. He was charming and sweet, but not so sweet as you caught him multiple times outright checking you out. You grew more and more embarrassed by your wardrobe, looking at all the amazing clothes the other teachers were wearing. You knew he was older than you, like way older than you, but you didn’t really care. Especially since it was school policy teachers couldn’t date parents, so there was no harm in flirting with a man who was clearly flirting with you.

One December morning you were in the lunchroom with Mrs. Young and Ms. Campbell, discussing your upcoming Christmas break plans.

Ms. Campbell teased you, “So, what’s it like having Daddy Morales in your class?”

You rolled your eyes, “It’s fine, he’s actually very nice.”

“Oh, I know, he’s a Southern charmer darling.”

Sipping from your coffee cup, you hid your grin as you thought of how Mr. Morales made you feel and how quickly you were developing feelings for him.

The last of the kids were leaving your classroom as the end of the day drew near. Mr. Morales crept into the room and gestured to Liliana that he was going to be speaking to you before they left. You stood still near your desk, casually folding the flyers for the Christmas concert on your desk as you awaited his approach.

He moved beside you and turned with his back to the rest of the room. “Hey darlin, how was your day?” he asked with an energetic smile.

You smiled; his informal greetings may have gone a little far past professionalism, but you didn’t mind one bit. “Good, thank you. How was yours?”

“Oh fine, construction isn’t exactly exciting but it’s a good group of guys, so, you know.” He looked slightly nervous, and you grew cautious of the interaction, he always had such a confident and suave demeanor about him. “I was actually wondering if you would be free on Friday night?” he asked, gauging your response.

Stunned, you stuttered, “Oh, um, I’m sorry Mr. Morales, but teachers aren’t actually allowed to,”

“I understand don’t worry.” He interjected, “I noticed Liliana was having a hard time with English and was wondering if you would be able to do some additional tutoring? I’d pay you, it’s my own fault really. We only speak Spanish at home so.” He looked bashful and your cheeks grew red with embarrassment that you thought for even a second, he would be asking you out.

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have assumed. Um, yes, I can definitely help you that.” You nodded softly, hoping you didn’t just ruin everything.

He smiled, “That’s great thank you. Do you mind coming round my place at say 5?”

Nodding you replied, “Yes that works, I’ll get your address from her file.”

“Great, thank you again hermosa.” He said as he backed up and gestured for Liliana to follow him.

You simultaneously couldn’t wait until Friday and couldn’t even fathom the idea of being alone with this man you had so much desire for.

Friday evening came and you plugged his address into your phone. You slid into your mid 2000s Ford Focus and headed out. It was a cash car, and your first purchase once you saved enough money would definitely be to upgrade, but that was a long way away. It still felt awful parking it with its rusted fenders beside the Lincolns and Range Rovers that took up the majority of the parking lot at the school.

The neighborhoods you were driving through suddenly shifted more and more into the luxury market. You couldn’t believe the sizes of some of these houses, how could anybody have this much stuff you thought. You finally pulled into the laneway your phone indicated and were met with a long driveway to a stunning stone house with a balcony on the second level facing the road. Your mouth gapped at the size of the estate and the sight of the hoard of vintage and luxury vehicles along the front of the laneway.

Parking your car over to the side so that he may not see it as you leave, you shrugged your cardigan back on your shoulder that it had fallen off and strutted with your tote bag of learning materials to the front door. You looked around casually, there’s no bell. How could there be no bell? Just a large circular knocker in the middle of the door. You bit your lip and swiftly knocked the handle against the dark brown wood door. It made a louder thud than you thought it would, but you still felt anxious that he wouldn’t have heard anything.

When you were just about to grab the knocker again the door suddenly swings open. Leaving you motionless with your hand raised between the two of you. He was in a black button down with sleeves rolled up and khaki pants. You quickly ripped your hand back to your side, “Hi, Mr. Morales, how are you?”

He looked at you up and down briefly, you were wearing black boots with light wash jeans, a snuggly fit blue tank top and a patterned cardigan over top. “Hey sweetheart, doin’ just fine long time no see huh?”

Blushing, you realized you had literally seen him less than two hours ago. He moved in the door so you could slip by him. When you entered you were greeted with an enormous stone staircase cascading up into the second level with exposed railing. There was a crystal chandelier hanging in the center of the room, illuminating you with a stunning glow. You couldn’t help but turn where you stood, shifting your gaze continuously to the next beautiful part of the room you caught with your eyes.

Finally turning around in a half circle, our gaze was met with Mr. Morales, whose eyes were dug into you, enjoying your childlike wonder.

“Sorry,” you said bashfully. “I’ve just never been in a house like this.”

He held his hands together and took a step towards you, "That's okay. Honestly up until a few years ago I hadn't seen anything like this either. It's a bit much for me but Liliana told me she wanted to live in a castle so I couldn't resist spoiling her." He winked at you and gave a sheepish smile.

You giggled, "I get that, she's a really wonderful little girl. I've loved having her in my class."

"Thank you, and for what it's worth we have very much enjoyed having you as her teacher. You might be our favourite." He touched his hand to his chest and spoke so earnestly, it made your gaze drop embarrassingly to his mouth as he talked.

Thankfully before you had to pry another sentence from your desperately dry mouth, Liliana came bounding into the room with a skip and threw her arms around you.

Mr. Morales reached out and took her arm, "Whoa girl, let's give Ms. Smith some space. Why don't you show her to the study, and I'll check on dinner. I hope you're okay with staying for dinner. I thought it was the least I could do for stealing you on a Friday evening. I'm sure your boyfriend would've preferred to spend time with you since we hog you all day all week." He looked at you with hopeful eyes.

You met his gaze, "I would love to stay for dinner, thank you. And no boyfriend so I'm all yours tonight."

He smiled, and nodded at Liliana when she took your hand to leave the room. You briefly looked back over your shoulder at Mr. Morales before you turned the corner and found he was still standing there with his hands on his hips, watching as you left.

A knock came to the door of the study and Mr. Morales poked his head in. "Hey ladies, it's dinner time. Liliana, go wash up. Ms. Smith I'll show you to the dining room."

Liliana left to go to the washroom, and you collected your things. Mr. Morales waited patiently waiting in the doorway. You heaved your heavy tote back on your shoulder and started towards him.

“Here, let me take that.” He said, pulling the strap easily off your shoulder. You nodded, thanking him and followed him through the house. Each room is more amazing than the other. He stepped aside to let you walk first into a stunning dining room. The walls were bright white with a high ceiling and pillars reaching up in each corner. The curtains had a white and blue pattern covering what you assume must be an incredible view. Sat in the middle of the room was a stunning ten-foot polished wood table with matching high back chairs wrapped around it. Your mouth gapped once again at the sight.

He gestured around you to a seat on the right side of the head of the table. There were three settings done with beautiful silver wear and plating. Just as you sat, Liliana came back in and sat herself across from you on the left side.

The table had trays of traditional Chilean food, luckily, Latin food happened to be your favourite.

“I hope you don’t mind the food; it can be a bit spicy.” he said, taking his seat beside you and offering a bottle of red wine.

You lifted your glass to hand to him, “No not at all. I actually love spice.” You said as he took the glass from you, pouring the wine in. Your fingers grazed against each other as he handed it back to you and you nearly dropped it.

“Alright Liliana, why don’t you say grace for us?” He said, after pouring himself his drink.

She happily clasped her hands together and squeezed her eyes shut. You followed suit with Mr. Morales.

“God is great, God is good, let us thank him for this food, Amen.” she said excitedly.

“Well said sweetheart, alright everybody dig in.”

The three of you ate, and laughed and drank. Mr. Morales and Liliana recounting dozens of stories, and you telling a few embarrassing vacation stories from your childhood that made Liliana laugh, and Mr. Morales too for that matter. You all had finished your food long ago when Mr. Morales looked at his watch.

“Oh, geeze baby girl. Look at the time, I’d say you should start getting ready for bed.” He said to his daughter, pointing at his watch.

She slumped in her chair, “Oh daddy, please. It’s Friday.” She put on her best puppy dog eyes that made you giggle.

He rolled his eyes at the obvious tactic, “Okay, you have to go to bed, but you can put a movie on to fall asleep to. Alright?”

She beamed, “Deal. Thank you for helping me Ms. Smith.” She said as she rose from her seat.

“Of course, sweetie, it was my pleasure.” You replied, catching Mr. Morales grinning at the interaction.

Liliana left the room and you stood to grab your plate, to which Mr. Morales quickly swatted your hands away. “Oh no no. Don’t even think about it, you’re a guest you will not be cleaning up this mess.”

“But you made this beautiful dinner, it’s the least I can do.” You protested.

He continued his objection, “Please hermosa, it’s really fine. Why don’t you just go out to the living room and I’ll bring a coffee. How do you want it?” He stood close, closer than you thought you would be comfortable with.

Stuttering you replied, “Just milk and sugar please.” And quickly retreated in the direction he had gestured.

Of course, another stunning room full of beautiful paintings and photos on the wall of Mr. Morales and Liliana.

You rounded an emerald green sofa and sat down, admiring the wood coffee table in front of you with a bouquet of roses on it.

Lost in thought you daydreamed about living here, how stunning it would be to wake up every day and stroll down that staircase. You can’t even imagine how glorious his bed must be if the damn couch is this comfortable.

Mr. Morales caught your attention and placed the coffees on the table. He sat beside you, almost right beside you. You felt your heart skip a beat but reached for the coffee to give your shaking hands something to do.

“These flowers are beautiful, roses are my favourite.” You pointed casually to the flowers.

He looked at you with his cup in his hand. “Thanks, I like them too. They really brighten up a room. So, do you like teaching at Long Horn?”

Nodding, “Yeah, it’s really great. It can be a bit overwhelming, but I do like it.”

His eyebrows knotted together, and an adorable crease split his forehead. “Overwhelming how?”

“Well, it’s just that, most of the teachers there and pretty much all of the parents are in a certain class that I’m not really in so it can be a bit, I don’t know. A bit embarrassing showing up in my car and my clothes and my shoes and well, just not really dressing the part of a teacher at such a prestigious school.” You tucked your hair behind your ear, slightly embarrassed by your honesty.

He scoffed, “Do you think their clothes make them a better teacher than you?”

Shaking your head you replied, “No of course not, it’s more of a status thing, I guess. It’s probably pretty juvenile to feel this way.”

Mr. Morales took a sip from his cup, never taking his eyes off you, “Well, would you feel more confident if you dressed the way they do?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, “I guess so, yeah. I think I would feel like I fit in more and maybe would get treated better by some of the parents. But I guess this will have to do for now.” You waved away your thoughts, “I’m saving for a new car right now so I shouldn’t worry about all that.”

He hummed, looking away briefly, deep in thought.

You asked him about his work, he got a bit vague but still answered your questions intently. The conversation flowed nicely, and you enjoyed talking to him. You almost forgot how much older he was because he still had such a youthful humor about himself. He talked about his friends Santiago, Will and Benny. It felt so comfortable, but also bizarre as you were sitting having this lovely conversation in a multi-million-dollar home. You simultaneously felt out of place and right where you needed to be.

Your coffees had been finished and you looked at your phone, “I should probably get going Mr. Morales. Thank you for the dinner and coffee.” You rose from your seat.

He stood with you, “Of course, least I could do for Lilianas favourite teacher. Thank you again for tutoring her.”

You both walked slowly to the front entrance, the electricity between you could power the whole damn house. You picked up the tote bag he had rested against the wall beside the door and turned to him. “Thanks again, have a great rest of your night.”

“You as well.” he replied, rubbing his hands on his jeans. He suddenly realized his place and reached for the door, pulling it open for you. You nodded and left through it. The walk to your car felt odd, the temperature had dropped slightly so you hugged yourself a bit. Fumbling with your keys, you finally get the door open and toss the tote into the passenger seat. Looking in the rear-view mirror as you drove down the long laneway, you notice the front door is still open and his broad silhouette is stood there watching as you leave.

Sunday morning rolled around, and you had no plans, other than to totally veg out in your pjs and watch movies all day. Your hair was in a messy bun, and you had your trusty bunny slippers on. Your apartment was small, but plenty for you. Although you have to admit, it felt a lot smaller when you returned from Mr. Morales’ house on Friday. You were settled in to continue your marathon of the Alien movies when a knock came at the door. You sat up puzzled, you just placed the order for your Popeyes chicken lunch and there’s no way it’s already here. Shrugging your sweater up from where it had fallen off your shoulder you sauntered over to the door and opened it.

You were met with a woman, with brown hair pulled into a tight ponytail, a knee length pencil skirt, black heels and a stunning blue silk blouse.

“Ms. Smith?” she asked.

Stunned you replied, “Uh- yes?”

“Great, I have a delivery for you.” She said as she suddenly pulled a luggage cart into view that was covered in clothing bags, shoe boxes and small packages.

You huffed in confusion as she pushed past you with the cart.

“Um- I didn’t order anything?” You followed her as she made herself comfortable in your living room.

“Size?” she asked.

Even more confused, you replied, “What?”

“Shoes, shoe size.” She said, gesturing to the boxes on the bottom of the cart.

You looked at her with more annoyance than confusion now but gave her your size.

She pulled about the boxes, putting three of them onto your kitchen table.

“I’m sorry can I ask what this is all about because I am just totally confused.” You waved your hands in the air as you conceded the situation.

Tossing her ponytail behind her shoulder as she ran her hands through the hangers. “These are from Mr. Morales.”

Your mouth gapped, what does she mean these are from Mr. Morales? Did he give you all these? How is this even happening right now?

Before you could speak again, she interjected, “Okay, I am just going to get your measurements, please stand here with your arms out.”

You were at a loss for words, so instead you did as you were told and allowed her to measure your body for sizing. She thanked you and started mulling about the hangers.

You walked towards the table cautiously, looking at the shoe boxes, they all had the same name on them, Christian Louboutin. Your hand slowly opened one of them and pushed the tissue paper aside, revealing a stunning pair of black, red bottom heels. Mouthwatering you ran your finger along the side of them and couldn’t believe your eyes.

The woman pulled a series of clothing bags off the bar and hung them over the edge of your thrift store couch.

“Oh, one more thing.” She said, reaching into a package on the front of the cart. She pulled out a long thin cardboard box and opened it as you wrang your hands together in nervousness. She slid a brown box the same dimensions as the cardboard with gold detailing on it and handed it to you. Your eyes widened as you recognized the iconic Louis Vuitton logo adorned all over it.

“Have a good day.” She stated as she pushed the rolling cart out into the hallway, closing the door behind her.

You waved your hand causally before returning your attention to the box. Sheepishly, you popped it open, and your eyes went wide at the five gold and diamond matching bracelet set. It shone in the light and your breath all but stopped completely. You looked around at the shoe boxes and bags of what you can only assume are more designer clothes. Your head spun so hard you had to brace yourself on the kitchen table. This could not be happening; this could not be real. Why on earth would this man give you all this insanely expensive stuff? You put the jewelry box down and straightened yourself up, promising yourself you wouldn’t touch anything until you spoke to Mr. Morales.

The clock ticked on the wall of your classroom Monday morning, you grew more and more anxious to see Mr. Morales. Tapping your fingers on the desk you stared at the door. Finally, Liliana came bouncing in with Mr. Morales on her heels. You swiftly strutted over to him and stood with your stance firm.

He caught the look on your face, and he grew nervous, “Hi, Ms. Smith. How was your weekend?” He glanced at your outfit; eyebrows furrowed at the fact that you were wearing the same navy dress with a stitch missing around the collar that you were wearing last week.

You pulled your lips tight at how casual he was being, “Fine, thank you. Do you mind if I speak to you in the hall?” You pointed out the door, to which he nodded and followed closely behind you.

There weren’t many people in the hall yet as he was always one of the earliest drop-offs, but you lowered your voice, nonetheless. “I had a delivery yesterday.” You stated.

He nodded, “Great, did you like everything?” He did his best to smile, considering your face did not match his.

“Mr. Morales,” You pinched your nose, “I cannot accept a bribe and you shouldn’t feel like you need to I mean Liliana did great on Friday night I think she’s really getting it and,”

He cut you off, “Whoa now, that wasn’t a bribe.” He chuckled.

You looked to him with confusion, “It wasn’t?”

“No.”

“Then, what was it?” you asked, leaning against the lockers beside you and crossing your arms.

He looked down at you, “An investment.”

Your eyebrows popped up, “An investment?” You questioned.

“Yes, you told me you would feel more confident if you dressed the part of a teacher at this school. I want the absolute best for my daughter so I thought if I invested in you then you would be able to be the best teacher you could be.” He tucked his hands in his leather jacket. That damn jacket you thought. It fit him so well and looked so good with his distressed jeans. He must not be going into the office today you thought.

Taking a deep breath through your nose you replied, “I really don’t think I can accept all that Mr. Morales. All that stuff costs more than like, three of my car.” You laughed to yourself at the situation you had found yourself in.

He took a step in, looking around for any other people in the hallway. “Let yourself be taken care of, for once in your life hermosa.” Your mouth fell open at the intense smell of his musky cologne you could now smell with him so close to you. Before you could retaliate, he turned and strutted down the hall.

You watched as he left, still too stunned to speak.

The rest of the week you strutted around the school in your new clothes. The snobby moms that typically gave you a side eye gave you a confident smile and complimented your lesson plan for the next week. You felt amazing gliding down the hallway in your red bottom heels, the gold bracelets dangling from your wrists.

Ms. Campbell nearly choked on her coffee one morning as you glided in wearing a form fitting purple work dress and black heeled ankle boots with black tights and tight blazer snug on your shoulders.

“Geeze what’s with this get up?” she asked, looking you up and down.

Shrugging you replied, “Oh just got some new clothes. I’ve been saving for a while and thought I would treat myself since I’m not travelling for Christmas this year.” A blatant lie you thought, but it was for the best. No one could know everything was from Mr. Morales. There’s no way the principal would accept his “investment” story and you’d be done for.

“So, is your class ready for the Christmas concert?” You asked, trying desperately to change the subject.

She peered at you suspiciously, “Yeah. Yeah, I think it will be good. Will Daddy Morales be gracing us with his presence?”

You nodded casually, “I believe so.”

Another teacher, Mrs. Rodriguez, came in to grab water from the fridge. She was nice enough, but you didn’t cross paths with her much. “What are we talking about ladies?” She smiled kindly.

Ms. Campbell leaned back in her chair to look at Mrs. Rodriguez, “Daddy Morales.”

You scoffed at your friend and gave her a wide look.

Mrs. Rodriguez hummed, “Mmm, Daddy Morales. He’s with your class now, isn’t he?” she asked, pointing at you.

Nodding you replied, “Yes, I have his daughter Liliana this year.”

“Lucky girl.” She commented before leaving the room.

Embarrassment grew in your chest as you worried anybody had picked up on your crush.

Friday evening came, the last day before Christmas break and the day of the concert. You had spent every waking minute preparing for it and were eager to show off your class. Everything was going off without a hitch as you stood at the side watching your class. Liliana had a little solo which she absolutely killed. You nervously peered out into the crowd to gauge the parents’ reactions. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves and smiling along with the music. Your gaze suddenly caught Mr. Morales sitting on the edge of an aisle near the front, looking more handsome than ever. His hair and beard are still styled perfectly, wearing a navy knit sweater and khakis. Your eyebrows perked up as you noticed a bulge in his pants with the way he was sitting, widespread so he could rest his left leg in the aisle. All of a sudden, the music stopped, and your class was taking their bow. You shook your head straight and clapped along with the crowd.

The show finally came to a close and you stood in the hallway, saying your goodbyes to the students and parents. A hand tapped your elbow and you turned to meet eyes with Mr. Morales. He looked you up and down, seemingly pleased in the red silk blouse, black pencil skirt and heels you had put together from the selection he gave you.

“Hey darlin, that was a great show.” he said nervously.

You grinned at him, “Thank you, Liliana really stole the show. Where is she?” You asked as you scanned his sides to see his daughter was nowhere to be seen.

“She’s left with my mom; she promised her she’d take her out for ice cream after the show. No boys allowed is what I was greeted with when I asked to join.” He laughed, waving his hands slightly with his story. You giggled along.

He suddenly looked even more nervous than when you had challenged him about the gifts, “It’s kind of noisy over here do you mind if we go for a quick walk?” Pointing in the direction of the classrooms.

Unsure, but entranced, you followed. You couldn’t even feel your feet moving, they just seemed to know where to go.

You walked slowly together, not speaking until you had finally rounded the corner.

Desperate to break the silence that was held together by the utter sexual tension you were trying your best to ignore, you asked, “Is everything okay, Mr. Morales?”

He rubbed his chin with his palm and tried to look at you, “Yes, sweetheart everything, everything’s fine. I just, wanted to tell you that I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you and uh, listening to Liliana talk about you every night.”

Your chest grew red, “That’s great, I really like talking to you too Mr. Morales.”

He waved his hand causally, “Please, you don’t need to call me Mr. Morales. That makes me feel old.” He laughed nervously.

“Oh, yeah that’s fine. Francisco, right?” You asked, still trying to keep up with him as he seemed to have a destination in mind considering the pace he had set.

“Uh- yeah, yeah that’s fine.” He smiled and you nodded.

He finally came to a stop in front of your classroom, you were so entranced you hadn’t noticed this is where he was leading you. He shifted towards the door and turned the handle. You were somewhat confused as your door was locked when you left that day. Hesitantly, you walked past him into your room.

Your mouth fell open as you looked at your desk, it had a large bouquet of roses on it and sitting in front of the roses was a shiny white cushion Chanel purse.

You stopped in your tracks, “Mr. – uh, Francisco what the hell is all this?”

He closed the door behind him and took a few steps over to you, “Just a Christmas gift.”

You spun in your spot, “A Christmas gift? Really you are just too much.” You protested, part of you completely flattered and a part of you concerned.

He stepped closer still, until your bodies were just inches away from each other. Your breath was labored, and you couldn’t see straight. It wasn’t until he pointed up at the ceiling that you finally were able to focus your eyes.

A mistletoe. There was a mistletoe hanging perfectly from the ceiling above you. Your gaze dropped back to his face. He was looking intently at you, scanning every piece of you. His eyes dropped to your mouth, and you felt yourself lean in. He quickly closed the gap and met your lips with his.

His hands found themselves on your waist as you cautiously rested yours on his arms. The kiss was deep but soft, it held emotions from months and months ago and released a pain you didn’t know you were carrying.

You finally pulled yourself back, remembering the consequences of your actions. “I really, shouldn’t be doing this.” You whispered to him.

He looked down at you softly, “Why not? I know you’ve been feeling the way I’ve been feeling all this time. Why not let yourself embrace it?”

Your chest flushed and you released yourself from his grip, “Because, I would lose my job if anyone found out about, about- all of this. The gifts, the kiss. I am not supposed to be doing anything like this with a parent.” You sounded flustered now, your head spinning for all new reasons.

“What if you didn’t need your job?” He asked, trying to follow you in your steps.

You looked at him puzzled, “What do you mean what if I didn’t need my job? Of course I need my job, and I can’t find anything that will pay more in the state.”

His voice turned deeper and his eyes darkened, “What if you didn’t need your job because I would take care of you.”

Taken aback, you can barely stutter out, “What?”

He steps further into you, “What if, we gave this a real shot, and I took care of you. Because I can. Because I want to. You don’t need to move in with me or anything, but I would pay for your apartment until we got to that point. I like you hermosa. I care about you, and I think you’re the most beautiful woman in the world. I know I’m older than you, but I would love nothing more than to spend the rest of my life, spoiling you and giving you the life you deserve.”

All you could hear once he stopped speaking was your heartbeat, it was pounding in your chest. You couldn’t believe what he was saying. He was asking you to quit your job to date him and let him shower you with gifts and love. A beautiful could be stepdaughter that you’ve grown to care so much for. It all seemed too good to be true.

He held your shoulders in his big, strong hands. “One day. Give me one day to show you what your life could be like with me. And if you hate me at the end of it, you’ll never hear a damn word out of me. But just give me one day. Please.”

Something broke inside you, your resolve was gone. You wanted nothing more than to throw your shaking body into his arms and kiss him feverishly. Right now, though, all you could muster was a quiet okay.

He nodded, “Liliana is at her moms on Christmas day, and I know you aren’t going to see any family. So please, spend the day with me and I promise I’ll make it one you’ll never forget.”

“Okay, let’s do it.” You said, trying to be confident.

He beamed, reaching around you to grab the flowers and bag as you shuffled slowly towards the door.

You looked back at him, “How did you do all this anyway?” pointing up at the mistletoe.

He chuckled, “Had to give the custodian a hundred bucks.” He said with a wink.

Christmas day.

This used to be your favourite holiday growing up. You were always surrounded by family and food. The gifts were sparce, due to your dad being on disability from an injury and your mom doing her best to keep everything together. But that never bothered you, until you would see your friends at school, and they would talk about the heaps of toys they received from Santa. Still, you had a wonderful family and that filled your heart as much as it could. You normally go visit your parents for Christmas back home in Florida, but you had saved for the last 6 years to get them a cruise and Christmas was the only time your mom could get off work. You were all prepared to spend the day in your pjs, watching movies and making cookies. Your plans were abruptly changed though, by the man who had all but begged you to go on a luxurious date with him. You figured your circumstances can’t be so bad.

You looked around your apartment, thinking about what this day could bring. If all goes well, you’d be quitting your job after the semester is done in a month and letting yourself fall into a serious relationship. All your time will be spent figuring out if you love this man. Could you? Do you? It was all so confusing, but thankfully he shouldn’t be around for a few more hours so now you just needed to finish your bowl of mac and cheese you reheated for lunch and figure out what to wear.

The bowl had just hit the sink when a knock came at your door. You looked at the clock on the microwave puzzled, once again why was someone here, you thought. Last time you had an unexpected guest, she came with a hoard of gifts, so you weren’t totally nervous this time around.

Your door swung open, and you gasped when you saw Francisco on the other side. He was fully dressed in black dress shoes, black pants with a matching blazer and a deep green button down. You swiftly looked down at yourself; a mismatched pajama set and your damn slippers.

“Hi.” You sputtered out.

He smiled, “Hey hermosa,” he stepped in and kissed your cheek before walking into your apartment.

Closing the door behind you, you ask “Isn’t our date not until later?”

He nodded, “Yes, but you still needed to get ready for the date, right?”

“Right.” You shrugged, looking down at your clothes.

“Right, so let’s go. Grab your new purse and your phone. You shouldn’t need anything else. I’m just going to use your washroom really quick, and we’ll go.” he nodded towards the other side of your apartment.

He disappeared into the hallway that led to your bedroom and bathroom, and you looked around stunned. Okay, you thought, let’s just go with the flow. You’re sure he has a plan for all this. You kicked off your slippers and slid on some boots, stuffing your phone into your purse.

He returned, adjusting his jacket, and smiles at you. “You look beautiful by the way.” He gives you a gentle kiss before grabbing the door.

You scoff at his probable joke, but follow him, nonetheless.

When you get downstairs, you’re met with a vintage Ford Mustang sitting in front of your apartment building. He stepped forward and opened the door for you before taking your hand and helping you ease down into the car.

He joined you inside and fired up the engine, pulling onto the not so busy street considering it was Christmas.

“Where are we going anyway? I’m hardly dressed for whatever occasion you have planned.”

He glances over at you with a knowing smirk, “You know I can’t tell you that sweetheart. Don’t want to ruin the surprises. And actually, you look perfect for where we are going.”

The car finally came to a halt in front of a luxury salon that you’ve only dreamed of going to.

You gasped, “What are we doing here?”

“You’ll see.” He winks as he gets out of the car and rounds the front of it to open your door. He then leads you hand in hand to the entrance.

“I don’t think they’re open it’s Christmas.” You said nervously.

He chuckled, “Don’t worry, I made special arrangements.”

He flung the unlocked door open and gestured to you inside. You were met with a beautiful salon that had antique mirrors and beautiful light pink chairs. A woman with black hair and all black outfit was sitting at the desk and greeted you with a kind smile.

“Merry Christmas Maria, how are you? You know I owe you for this one, right?” Francisco asked, leaning on the desk.

She smiled up to him, “I’m good, and yes yes you do. Ms. if you’d like to follow me, we’ll get started.”

Your eyes widen at Francisco, but he nods to assure you it’s okay.

A few minutes later you emerge from the back in a silk pink robe and the softest slippers you’ve ever felt in your life. He was waiting patiently in one of the salon chairs. You then spent the next few hours getting your nails painted, your makeup and hair done. All the while, sipping champagne, eating chocolate covered strawberries and chatting with Francisco. He didn’t leave your side even once. Constantly complimenting you and grabbing your hand to pepper kisses on it whenever Maria wasn’t looking. He made you laugh so hard your chest hurt and you got a brief scolding from her to keep still, which earned you a juvenile look from Francisco.

“Alright, I think you’re ready to get dressed. What do you think Mr. Morales?” she looked to him after finishing up your hair.

“She’s breathtaking.” he said under his breath but still loud enough for you both to hear.

You blushed and rose from the chair to follow Maria to a back area where there was a curtained changing room with a large mirror in it. The curtains swung closed behind you before you could notice the hangers on the wall. There was a long black evening dress, a pair of black heels and a woven trench coat. You stepped forward to admire the dress, it was strapless and had a slit down the left front of it. It was simple and elegant. You looked down at the bench where the shoes were and noticed a black box. Popping the top off it, your eyes widened when you were met with a strapless lace black bra and panties set. Your eyebrows popped up, realizing your date might not be as wholesome as you thought he was. He was a man after all. You held the bra in your hand loosely, and it created an ache in your core. Your mind drifted off to the thought of wearing this in front of him and he rubbing his hands all over you. Worshipping your body as you know he’d do. You finally snapped yourself out of it and got changed.

You took last look of yourself in the mirror and stuffed your clothes and shoes into the bag Maria had left for you. Grabbing the coat off the hanger you tip toed out of the curtains. When you emerged from the back Francisco was standing in the room still, he turned swiftly when he heard the sound of your heels on the hardwood floors.

He clapped his hand over his heart as you approached, and you smiled. “Be still my beating heart, you look amazing.” He grabbed your hand and spun you around before snapping you close to his chest.

You beamed up at him and offered a soft kiss, which he graciously accepted. “Where to now Romeo?”

“Tsk tsk, always trying to ruin the surprises. Also, you have one more thing for this outfit.”

You looked at him puzzled as he opened his suit jacket and pulled out the Louis Vuitton bracelet box from the inside pocket. Your eyes widened with his sneakiness. “Where did you get that?”

“Swiped it from your dresser when I said I was in the bathroom.” He chuckled, before helping you clasp each bracelet on your wrists.

You both said your thanks to Maria and returned to his car.

The city swiftly disappeared, and you became very much aware of your whereabouts; you were headed to the airport.

Your stunned face must’ve stayed on you the entire time. Peppering Francisco with continuous, what’s and how’s. Until finally you found yourself walking on the tarmac towards a private helicopter, owned by him of course.

He got you up and settled into the passenger seat when you suddenly looked confused. “Wait where are you gonna sit?”

He winked at you, “Don’t worry I’m right here with you sweetheart.” As he climbed into the pilot’s seat. You watched in awe as he got his headset on and got the helicopter ready for flight. He signaled to the tower that he was ready to go and steadily pulled off the ground. You grabbed his thigh with your hand as you tried to calm your nerves.

The two of you toured around the city, the sun was slowly setting as you made your way into the countryside. He pointed out a golf course in the distance and you noticed a helicopter pad near the greens. He set the helicopter down effortlessly and got you both set to get out. He hopped out the door and reached up to take you by the waist to carry you down to the ground.

You walked hand in hand towards the building where a man was waiting, he gestured you both to follow inside. Once inside, you were taken to a stunning ballroom. It had high ceilings with chandeliers situated in multiple spots. Every surface was adorned with Christmas lights and tall ten-foot decorated trees stood in each corner of the room. There was a single table with roses by the far wall with a fireplace. Simple orchestrated music sounded through the speakers and Fransisco pulled your chair out for you as you sat down.

“I honestly can’t believe you’ve done all this; it feels like a fairytale.” You gushed as he poured you a glass of wine.

He smiled at you, “Well hermosa, I just wanted to take today to treat you how you have always deserved to be treated. I didn’t come from money and I know you didn’t either. But one thing I’ve learned is that if you can spoil someone, you should. If you can use physical things to show someone how much you care about them, then you can. It doesn’t need to be this materialistic thing, and I knew from the beginning that, that none of this would matter if you didn’t have feelings for me too.”

You nodded intently with him, “I do, I really do have feelings for you Francisco. I- I don’t know what it is but I’m just so attracted to you in every way I know that I’m supposed to be.”

Smiles radiating off of each other, a waiter approached with a silver plate with a matching covering on top.

“For the lady.” He said, pulling back the top, to reveal a Tiffany jewelry box.

You gasped and looked at Francisco who was beaming at you. The waiter took the box and handed it to Francisco before leaving.

“I know, I know. I’m too much, you’re gonna say.” You smiled at him, holding your hands to your chest. “But I think too much is better than not enough so, I got you one more thing tonight to truly complete the beautiful look you you’ve got going on right now.” He popped the box open and pulled out a gold and diamond necklace.

Your face dropped as he rose from his seat. You held your hair up as he reached around your body, clicking it in place and letting it fall comfortably on your chest. You set your hair down and ran your hands along the jewelry.

“Thank you, this really is amazing. I wish I could do something to repay all your generosity.”

“Your smile is payment enough hermosa.”

Your heart warmed and you reached your hand across the table to take his. He pulled it up and pressed a firm kiss to your knuckles.

The waiter returned with the beautiful Christmas dinner. Fit with roast beef, mashed potatoes, gravy, veggies, and you ate and laughed together. Everything was delicious you and thought about how this could be your life every day. You could sip wine and eat amazing food with a deliriously sweet man and his beautiful daughter.

Your plates have been cleared and you took a deep breath, looking at him earnestly.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” he asked.

You huffed, “I just, I like you I do. I really do. But I feel like I need to know more about what the future would hold if we were to take this step.”

He nodded, “Do you have any questions in mind?”

Leaning on the table you tapped your fingers to your chin, running through all the possibilities the next 30 years could hold should you end up together. “Do you want any more kids?” You ask.

“No, I think I’m past that. Do you?” he asked, slightly nervous.

You shook your head, “No, I like kids, I mean I have to for my job. But I don’t really need any of my own. But I love Liliana, don’t think I wouldn’t be so so happy to be a part of her life.”

He smiled and nodded.

“When do you think you are going to retire?” You asked, sipping from your wine.

“Well, I can technically do that anytime, but probably in less than 10 years. I do enjoy getting out and having a routine still.” He stretched into his seat as he could tell this could take a while.

You bounced questions back and forth to one another for a while, and continued to be surprised by how well your lives could actually line up with one another. There was just one thing that you couldn’t get off your mind.

“Okay, last question because I think it’s gonna be a doozy.” He nodded, leaning his elbows on the table so he could listen more intently to you. “You never told me what you did before you had this company, or really any stories from before that or before Liliana was born. Why is that?” Your voice grew quieter with each word, fearful of what he may say.

His head dipped slightly, and he rubbed his chin with his hand. Your breath caught in your throat as you awaited his response.

“So, I grew up here in Texas, didn’t have a lot of money so the only real career prospects I had was in the military. I enlisted right out of high school. Spent the next, 15 years I guess as a pilot for special forces. Got out, circumstances changed, had to get back in and then the money I received as payment for a final job allowed me to buy that company. It allowed me to set myself, and my daughter, up for a good life. I didn’t do the best things to get that money, but it has been worth it, so far at least.” His eyes looked sad, he was suddenly nothing like the suave and confident man that had strutted into your classroom all those months ago.

He looked at you like you may completely disappear on him; he reached his hand out, “Sweetheart, talk to me. Please.”

You looked at his hand, taking in everything he just told you. He was such a kind man and had treated you so well in every way possible. He clearly had some broken pieces of himself still inside, but who’s to say you’re not the one to mend those pieces.

Just as he was about to give up hope and pull his hand back, you leapt from your seat and rushed to his side. He quickly followed your lead and stood up to you. Your eyes met his with an intense heat, you looked down at his lips and lunged yourself forward into him. He wrapped his arms around your waist as you flung yours around his neck. His tongue pecked at your lips, and you gladly opened them to allow yourselves to deepen and lick your tongues against each other’s. He pulled his mouth free and rested his forehead against yours.

“Are we doin’ this sweetheart?” he asks, breathing deeply.

You swallowed hard, and then nodded your head against his.

The biggest smile you’d ever seen grew on his face and he latched himself back onto you with a passionate moan.

He took you back to his place and you ended up in the living room, still dressed to the nines with champagne and chocolate cake. He had undone the top buttons of his dress shirt, exposing his chest. You drank your champagne and stared at his skin, trying desperately not to reach out and touch it. At this point, you’d had not just a little bit, but a lot a bit of champagne and were really feeling it in your core. Even as he sat before you, explaining what he does on an average day in the office or on a site, you nodded as if you were paying attention, but not a single word was entering your ears as you noticed again how broad his shoulders were.

“So, my head contractor Mike, he,”

“You look comfortable.” You blurted out, taking him by surprise. He looked at you confused, you pointed lazily to his chest, to which he looked down and huffed out a laugh.

“Oh, yeah. Hope you don’t mind.” He said with a wink, noticing how your eyes stayed still on his exposed skin. “Are you comfortable or would you like me to find you something to wear?”

You popped your eyebrows up at his question, “Yeah, fuck. That would be great I’d love to get out of this thing.” You downed the rest of your champagne and stood up from the couch.

He followed your lead and grabbed your hand. You went up behind him on the staircase in the entry way to the bedrooms.

The hallway had doors on doors on doors. You followed him to the one at the very end of the hallway and gasped as he swung it open. The bed was definitely a California King and had a fluffy cream comforter on it with a few pillows scattered on top. The walls had paintings of planes and helicopters, a little out of place from the rest of the house, but more his style. You nearly tripped when you ran to the right side of the room and poked your head into the huge closet. It was only half full of his suits and dress shirts, some jeans stacked neatly on top of the dresser.

“Holy shit, I wanna live in this closet.” You exclaimed.

He laughed, “Well, there’s plenty of room still in there for ya.”

You looked back at him, remembering why you wanted to come up here in the first place. It was not to figure out how to organize your shoes in the closet that’s for sure.

Swaying your hips you returned to him standing near the bed. “Can you get my zipper for me?”

He swallowed deeply, looking you up and down. “I think I can manage.”

With a shit eating grin on your face, you turned and moved your hair off your back, collecting it in your hands.

You felt his warm hands touch the top of your back and you shivered at the feeling. Then, your zipper could be felt slowly making its way down until it hit the bottom, just above your ass.

You turned coyly, keeping the dress up by holding it to your breasts. He stood looking down at you, eyes darkening, waiting. You slowly pulled your hands free from the material and helped it shrug down your body, finally stepping out of it.

He took a step back, admiring your body in the lingerie that had been set out for you. “Damn it hermosa, you’re gonna be the death of me, aren’t you?”

You snickered, reaching out, you grabbed his suit jacket and pulled him back to you, peeling the jacket off his shoulders. He threw it to the side and tugged at his shirt, pulling it out of his pants. You popped your eyebrows up and leaned in for a kiss. You made quick work unbuttoning his shirt as your tongue swept around his mouth. Undoing the last button, he pulled it off his shoulder and past his wrists. You ran your hands down his bare chest and started nipping at his jaw. He smiled into you, caressing your body with his hands before swiftly pulling you up into his arms. You giggled and wrapped your legs around his waist, leaning down to plant a kiss on his open mouth. He turned towards the bed and threw you down onto it. You landed with a laugh and winked at him, making a come here signal with your finger.

He smirked and climbed onto the bed on top of you, slotting one of his thighs between your legs. Desperately lapping each other up you could’ve kissed for hours, but he had better plans for you.

Kissing your neck slowly he moved down your body to your breasts, pulling at the fabric of the bra and allowing one of them to fall out. He grunted lowly before latching on. Biting and swirling your nipple in his mouth, you moaned loudly, and he slid a hand under your back, pulling you up so your aching core was rubbing against his thigh. Your nipple popped out of his mouth, and he looked at you with hungry eyes. You leaned forward to slip your hands under your back and unclasp the bra, throwing it who knows where.

His mouth continued down until it reached the top of your panties grabbing them ferociously with his teeth. His hands took them swiftly and yanked the material down your legs. He stood above you, basking in your bare body and dripping core.

“Fuck me.” Francisco hummed to himself.

“Yeah, that’s the plan.” You replied, giving him a smirk.

Biting his lip he looked down at your pussy, and fell to his stomach to line his mouth up with your entrance. You let out a desperate moan as he slipped his tongue between your folds and licked up into your clit. His technique was incredible, completely undoing you in minutes. Sucking and licking with precision. You were so wet that sounds coming off his tongue were intoxicating.

“Just like that baby, fuck- yes don’t stop, Franc-,” you moaned, hands reaching back to grab the pillow behind you.

With a few more swipes from his tongue and a nudge at your clit from his nose you fell undone under him. Your moan shocked even you and his face never wavered as he let you ride it out on his tongue.

You finally felt your head stop spinning, thinking he would be done when you felt him double down. Your back arched as his two fingers slid inside your dripping pussy. He curled his one finger inside, flicking it out onto your clit while he kissed your thigh. You grabbed the chocolate curls on his head and whined. You didn’t think it could get any better when all of sudden both of hands came to your core and with a finger hooked in you on either side, pulled your sore pussy open to allow his tongue entrance. You felt his warm tongue in parts of you that you never knew one could reach and instantly cried out as your next orgasm not only flowed through you, but all over his face. You squirted on his tongue and beard as he still let you ride out your high.

Coming to a still, you tried to regulate your breathing. He pulled himself up from you and wiped his mouth with his hand, smirking at you. You rose as quickly as your trembling legs would let you onto your knees and licked into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue. Grabbing his belt, you undid it and pulled it free before unbuttoning his pants and motioning for him to take them off.

Francisco backed off the bed and pulled his pants, boxers and socks off before returning to you. Your eyes widened not only at the length but the girth he had. He was the biggest you had ever seen in person. You took his length in your hand and offered a few casual strokes, earning a groan from him. In one fell swoop he grabbed your thighs and threw you back on the bed, head hitting the pillows behind you. He laid down between your open thighs and rubbed them.

“Do you have any condoms?” You asked.

“Well, I actually got a vasectomy a few years back and I’m clean so unless,” he replied, gauging your response.

You nodded, “Yeah I’m clean too.”

He smiled and leaned down, pecking your lips with a feverish kiss.

Grabbing his length, he lines up with your entrance before slowly pushing into you. You grab his shoulders to sturdy yourself as the stretch overtakes you. It both burns and feels amazing at the same time. He pushes the rest of himself into your aching pussy and looks at you with heat filled eyes.

“Fuck, you’re so tight hermosa. Feels s’fucking good.”

You nod as he starts moving his hips into yours. You grunt as he picks up the pace, rocking deep into you. “Ugh b-baby.”

He huffs, “Is that really what you wanna call me?”

You looked at him puzzled.

Smiling he says, “You, know. I know that nick name the teachers gave me.” Your eyebrows popped up, “Daddy Morales? You ever called me that?”

Smirking, you shake your head, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the sensations building inside you.

“Maybe I want you to call me that, huh?”

“Want me to call you daddy?” you ask with a devilish grin.

He looks down at your body beneath him as he rocks deep into you. “Yeah, I do, I really do.”

You reach your body up and whisper in his ear, “Make me want to.” Nipping his ear with your teeth you laid your body back down and rolled your hands on his chest.

He let out a deep growl and pulled out of you. He flipped you over onto your stomach and slotted your legs together, situating himself with his thighs on either side of you. His hands slid beneath your hips and tugged them up, so your ass was slanted, exposing your already puffy pussy from between your legs. He slid back inside you and squeezed your ass.

The force he had from behind was insatiable, pounding insensately into you. The bracelets and necklace that you still wore banged against your skin with the movement. You felt the knot in your stomach begin to tighten again as the over stimulation washed over you. He slapped your ass sharply and you let out a moan. A few more deep plunges and you were launched into your third orgasm.

You grabbed the sheets beneath you and screamed, “Oh fuck daddy yes! Ugh, daddy fuck me!”

He grunted and spilled himself inside you, swelling to an unimaginably bigger size, causing your orgasm to linger and spin your head until you both fell exhausted.

Panting on your shoulder, he let out a huffed laugh, “Fuck, that was so fucking hot.”

He pulled himself out of you and you whimpered at the emptiness you suddenly felt. You did your best to catch your breath and slink out of the bed, grabbing the tossed aside panties and retreating to the ensuite on the opposite side of the room from then the closet.

When you returned, Francisco was lying in bed with his bare chest still out, resting his arm over his eyes. You smiled and jumped onto the bed before sliding under the covers and resting your head on him.

He hummed, “That was really something sweetheart. I don’t think I’ll ever grow tired of that.”

Giggling to yourself, you replied, “Yeah, I think you’re pretty much stuck with me now. I don’t think I can find head like that anywhere else.”

He grinned and squeezed your shoulder with his hand, still smelling slightly like you.

“Alright, let’s get some shut eye. I’m a lot older than you and it is way past my bedtime.”

You swatted at him playfully but leaned into him to rest your eyes.

“Merry Christmas sweetheart.” He said, planting a loving kiss to your head.

“Merry Christmas daddy.”

February came and you had officially left your job. A part of you was sad, but that didn’t last long as you spent more and more time with Francisco and Liliana over the last month and grew even closer to them. In celebration of your relationship being official, he rented a box at the Dallas Stars hockey game the first Saturday after your exit from Long Horn Academy.

You were waiting patiently in your apartment for him to arrive when you felt a buzz in your pocket and his name light up with a “here” text. You were wearing leggings, Converse, a simple hoodie and you threw a denim jacket over top as you left. Your Chanel purse draped over your shoulder of course.

Your eyes were met with a blinding light as you stepped into the parking lot of your apartment building. You looked around confused, as you didn’t see his Mustang anywhere. You were about to reach into your hoodie pocket for your phone when you heard a honk and glanced up. There was a passenger side window rolled down of a cherry red Range Rover over to your right, with a certain someone waiving you over.

Leaning into the window you asked, “Who’s is this?

“It’s yours hermosa.” he said confidently.

Your eyes widened, “What?”

“Get in.” He nodded to you.

Your mouth fell open as you climbed in and looked around at the stunning leather interior.

Francisco was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved plaid shirt with white running shoes, by far one of the most casual outfits you’ve ever seen him in.

You reached over and hugged him. “Thank you, this is amazing Francisco baby.”

He smiled, “You know, I know I told you Mr. Morales makes me feel old, but to be honest hermosa. Francisco makes me feel REALLY old.” He said with a chuckle.

You looked taken aback but smirked, “Okay, well now what am I supposed to call you?”

He glanced into the back seat and reached his right arm back. You watched as he pulled a baseball hat with a Standard Oil logo laden across the front and popped it firmly on his head, “Just call me Frankie.”

@rmwarn90

#frankie morales #pedro pascal #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales smut #frankie catfish morales #pedro pascal characters #sugarbaby #sugardaddy #fanfiction #f!reader

90 notes · View notes

deltaromeo3 · 1 year

Text

ɴᴏ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ — Daniel Ricciardo

pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x childhood bestfriend!Reader

summary: Finally returning home after a few years, she reunites with her long time bestfriend; the all too famous Formula 1 driver, Daniel Ricciardo. Will things rehash between them or will it take a turn for the worst?

previous chapters here: #2 | #3

Perth, Australia. It’s where you called home ever since you were 7. It’s been years since you’ve been back home but today you had a reason for your arrival; it was your mother’s birthday and she was turning fifty.

Usually, you would skip coming home at all costs. But this time, your mother begged you to come because apparently turning the big five and having you around to celebrate was a huge deal for her. Which was weird because all these while she was usually fine with not having you around and wine with a birthday card seemed to do the trick.

But somehow with enough convincing, you eventually gave in because she said that your sister would be there too, and you used that as a good enough reason to come back.

You avoided home like the plague, always telling your mother you were extremely busy, getting caught up in work and other stuff so you couldn’t afford to take a break and fly home.

But was that really the reason for your absence?

And now, here you were, a day early, standing outside the house you grew up in. Memories came flooding back but you were quickly snapped back to reality when your dad came out to help you with your luggage.

“You alright there darling?” He asked, a look of concern obvious on his face.

You smile and nod, “Yeah, I'm good.”

He just smiled in response and the both of you walked towards the door. As soon as you entered the house you were greeted by your sister hugging you so tightly you thought you were gonna pass out.

You laughed and hugged her back with as much force. Once you let go, you walked over to the kitchen.

“Ugh I feel like it’s been years since I last saw you.” She says, leaning on the entrance of the kitchen.

“That’s because it has been years.” You say as you poured yourself a cup of water.

“What? It can’t be that long ago, right?” Denial present in her voice.

You closed the fridge door. “Yeah it has,” You sipped on your drink. “I was here when Ella got married, remember? Her kid is three now. Three.” You held three fingers up close to your sister's face, annoying her as a result.

“Three huh? Just like his-’’

Before she could finish her sentence, she was interrupted by your mother coming down the stairs.

“What’s all the noise about? Has the prodigal daughter returned home?”

You quickly glanced over to your sister, giving her the “oh god i’m not ready for this” look but all she does is flash you a tight-lipped smile.

Your mother walks over to you with open arms, hugging you. She lets go of the hug, holding your sides to take a good look at you but it felt like she was examining you instead…

“Are you sleeping well? You’ve got bags under your eyes.”

There it is.

She points at them but you just smile through it.

You glanced over to your sister as if you knew what was gonna happen.

“It’s nice to see you too Ma,” You reply, unamused.

“I’m just saying you look tired is all.”

You sighed, opening your mouth to respond but was interrupted by your sister chiming in. “It’s probably the jet lag, you know how it is.”

She understood that it was too soon for you to receive criticism from your own mother. You literally just arrived.

Your sister leaves the kitchen, making pointless conversation with your mother to distract her as they walked towards the living room.

You turned to the sink, washing the cup trying to distract yourself.

“Don’t think so much about it, you know how she is.” Your dad reassures you.

“I know I know…” You sigh.

“I’m just glad you’re home, we missed you tons. Especially your mother.”

“It’s kinda hard to believe that. All she ever does when we meet is criticize me or my looks.”

Your dad chuckles. He ruffles your hair and leaves. Before he walks away he says, “I now know why you were so eager to leave.”

You chuckled at the statement.

After having dinner, everyone was seated in the living room, watching TV together. You stared blankly at the sixty inch screen, some movie on Netflix playing.

You groan out of boredom.

You stood up, deciding that taking a walk was better than sitting around watching some lame movie.

You grab your jacket along the way out.

“Where ya off to?” Your mom asks.

“Gonna take a walk, haven’t been home in a while.”

She hums in response and you exit the house, closing the door behind you.

You decided that the corner shop was the place you wanted to go. You immediately walked towards the all too familiar path, leading you past a few houses before eventually arriving to the store. Once you arrive, it brought you back to the times where you, Ella and a few other of your friends used to hang out together after school… One person in particular you could not forget.

You smiled to yourself when you reminisced about the good old times but was quickly returned back to the present when you heard someone call out your name.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed that :)) This is my first time writing so do leave me feedback (good OR bad) so I know how I can improve for the next upcoming parts!!

#daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo imagines #daniel ricciardo #f1 x reader #f1 x you #daniel ricciardo fanfiction #f1 fic #daniel ricciardo x y/n #deltaromeo3

337 notes · View notes

st-kitten · 11 months

Text

"pancakes"

MIGUEL O'HARA x BABYSITTER READER warnings: it's miguel, what do you expect??? words: 2,758

pt.2

You've been babysitting Mayday for Peter for a week, which has been quite fun. Peter is extremely welcoming, friendly, and generous to you. His friend Miguel on the other hand...

Peter called you to his house on an urgent basis. Usually you would look after Mayday during the afternoons, waiting for him to return home in the evening. But, today, he called you in the morning, sounding slightly worried, and asked if you could come earlier. You were of course, happy to do so. You stood outside his door, not knowing if you should knock this early in the morning and cause disturbance or simply wait and rot in place until someone took notice of you. Just as you were about to end your debate, the door opened and Peter rushed out of the house, his Spider-Suit haphazardly put on. "Oh, thank God! Mayday's up and running, she hasn't had breakfast yet. There's crashing and burning out there and I can't do both, you're going to have to-" You took over his monologue reassuringly, "Understood. Go ti-spider!" He nodded gratefully. Before leaping out of the window in the lobby, he looked back, almost heroically, with the morning sun shining behind him, and said, "Could you also wake Miguel up?" "Sure! I'll be alri- wait what did you say?" Peter had already jumped out and swung from one building to another. "Miguel?" You entered the house, closing the door behind you and almost instantly, two small, freckled arms bumped against your leg, hugging them. "Good morning to you too, Mayday!" you greeted. She cooed happily, letting go of you, already hopping onto the sofa, then to the coffee table, and the settee, the floor, then back to the sofa. "Well, your dad told me you haven't eaten yet! So, will you go brush your teeth for me? I'll make us some breakfast." Mayday gave you a small salute, and rushed to the bathroom. More than anxious about your other task... you crept into what you assumed was the guest bedroom and found Miguel O'Hara sprawled ungraciously in the bed. You made a mental note to invest in a king size bed. He occupied most of it and them some... well not. His feet dangled from the edge and one of his muscled arms touched the floor. As you walked towards him, he shifted in the bed, growling a little, causing you to jump and jolt out of the room. Mayday, with the brush in her mouth, toothpaste oozing from her wide smile looked at you with as much admiration as she could. "Yeah, scary, right? He looks like he would punch me for waking him up. But a job's a job, I guess." You re-entered his room, clutching a pan in your hand... just in case. Standing by the edge of the bed, you poked his shoulder. Then you poked it some more. You eventually grabbed it and shook him. "Miguel...?" Upon hearing no response, you bravely moved from his shoulder to his torso, secretly wondering whether his tits were bigger than yours. "Oh, God, please wake up." You nudged him swiftly and to your surprise, he abruptly got up from the bed, swinging his arms at your direction. You held the pan in front of you, hearing his knuckles hit the back of it a few times. "The fuck?" he cursed. His voice in the morning was hot, but nail-bitingly intimidating. You were ready to be thrown in jail for waking him up. You wouldn't even hire a lawyer.

"Peter told me to wake you up." He couldn't see you from behind the pan and you made sure he wouldn't for the next few minutes as you tried to scurry away. You were stopped in your tracks, legs still trying to march ahead. A thick web strand clung to your waist and you were pulled back. There he stood, in all his morning glory, looking down at you. "And who are you?" "Literally no one. Let me go." You tried your best to hide the terror in your voice. "Yeah? Then what are you doing in my room, chica?" "Fighting for my life, apparently..." you whispered. Your bad, he caught it. "With a pan?" He put his hands on his waist. If only God Almighty had given you the sense to not look up... and down at him, you wouldn't have got a glimpse of his morning... excitement taunting you from his sweatpants and you sure as hell wouldn't have whacked him with the pan. Tearing the webs apart, you ran out of the room, leaving behind a mildly enraged Miguel, who massaged his chest (not that it hurt him). You occupied yourself in the kitchen, warming up some milk, praying for your life. Mayday climbed her way up to the kitchen counter, showing you her clean teeth. "Well done! Now you're ready for some tasty breakfast! What do you think about... pancakes?" Mayday's eyes glimmered and she nodded excitedly. Seeing her happy made you calm down and you asked her if she wanted to help. Well, all she did was point to a bowl of strawberries in the fridge, and you assumed she wanted them on her pancakes. For the next few minutes, you peacefully whipped the batter, readying all the ingredients and toppings. One by one, you poured it into the pan (yes, that one), making some smaller and softer ones for Mayday. "Okay, Mayday, here's your syrup and your strawberries. Go crazy," you said, resting your elbows on the kitchen counter, and watched her splatter an endless stream of the amber coloured syrup, until it overflew and encircled the rim of the plate. Mayday then happily proceeded to place strawberry slices all over her little pancake. "Do you want whipped cream?" you asked. Mayday took some time to think and then nodded. Sniggering, you pulled a can of whipped cream out of the fridge and asked her where she wanted it. Pointing stark in middle of the pancake, Mayday hummed at you. "Yes, ma'am." You carefully sprayed some cream, waiting for her to tell you to stop. She didn't. "Okay, that's enough, I guess." You placed the can on the island, watching what looked like a red circle with a white dot in the middle. "I think we did a good job," you said, offering May day a high five. She clapped your hand with her little one and plucked a fork and butter knife. While you made decorated one for yourself, Miguel entered the living room and saw you and Mayday. He'd figured that you were the babysitter. But, he'd never actually seen you. He always assumed it was an old nanny. So, you were certainly a fresh sight.

Miguel sat on the sofa, legs spread comfortably, some magazine in his hand, which he wasn't planning on reading. The room was sunlit enough for him to see you properly. You wore a pale yellow sundress, the straps of which almost didn't want to stay in place and kept sliding off your shoulder. You rich brown hair was tied in a ponytail with the exception of a few errant strands that swayed as you moved. At one point, Mayday began chewing on the fork, so you rushed from behind the island to the dining table, switching the metal fork with a plastic one. Miguel saw a glimpse of your dress and was immensely pleased to find a slit that ran up your thigh. He thoroughly enjoyed your walk back into the kitchen when your hips were on display and they swayed very gracefully. Miguel wondered where the fuck he'd been all the while you were here, being that comfortable. He was really glad he didn't go back to sleep after you woke him up so unceremoniously. You'd felt his eyes on you from the moment he'd walked in; only you didn't know if he was just watching you or conspiring to kill you in a moment of weakness. You walked over to Mayday, placing a napkin by her side and sat down for a moment. "Is it good? Do we like it?" Mayday nodded approvingly. "Do you think... scary Miguel would like some pancakes?" you asked. Mayday shrugged, which was probably the right response. Who knew what appetite that man had. He had fangs, for fuck's sake. "Well... might as well offer him some." You sighed and went to the kitchen, pulling a plate out. You hated how unpredictable he was. But you hated more how he made you feel. Who were you kidding, Miguel was devilishly handsome. Everything about him aroused you. You just didn't know what to do with it. It was easier to just defend your life in front of him because you always assumed he hated everyone and especially you even though he'd never paid attention to you. You never knew the taste of vengeance, but it wouldn't be as bad as blueberries and whipped cream. You thought it would be fun to decorate his pancake to look like him with his mask. Blue, red, and two white lines of cream dedicated to his sexy fangs. You bit your lip trying not to laugh out loud. Miguel wanted to know what made you do that. He wondered if he could make you do that. He wanted nothing but to walk over to you and grab your face. And you gave him the perfect excuse to... You placed the plate on the coffee table and walked away without looking at him or his reaction or the sight of your deadbody reflected in his red eyes. You busied yourself by cleaning the countertop and turning the coffee machine on, planning to eat coffee raw, hoping it would dose you to run away faster should he decide to snap your neck. Realising there wasn't much to clean, you chose to eat your own share of pancakes. Holding the syrup bottle upside down, you shook it, waiting for the thick liquid to start dropping at any moment (yes I know how this sounds...).

"That's funny," you heard him say from behind you. You jolted and turned around, dreading not having a pan with you. Miguel held his pancake in between you, clearly unimpressed. Trapped between the kitchen island and the living guillotine, you leaned back, trying to put some distance. "It s-sure is..." you chuckled. "You want some syrup on it?" Like an opportune meteorite, the upside down bottle decided to glaze your chest with maple syrup. You snapped your own neck inside your head and tossed the bottle away. Miguel looked down at you, especially at the syrup making its way deeper into your breasts. "I would love some..." he said, looking directly into your eyes, a minuscule smirk growing on his face. You hid your embarrassment by rolling your eyes. You tried to push him away with one hand, the other supporting you, but who were you kidding. All you did was strain your wrist. "No, no, I'm serious. Syrup sounds 'just' great." Miguel placed his hands on your thighs, moving them apart very slowly, and wedged himself in between them. He was grateful to the slits on the sides for he ran his hands up your thigh tenderly. You quivered, clutching the surface behind you. Was this really happening? Was Miguel attracted to you? And all it took was a stupid pancake? You looked at him, breath deepening, unsure of what to say. You opened your mouth to protest, but your body wouldn't let you. You just stood there with your mouth agape. Miguel smirked at you, inching closer and closer until you could feel his breath on you. Leaning forward, he tilted his head and licked the trail of syrup off your chest. You burst into flames at the feeling of his tongue on your skin. Fuck fuck fuck, you thought. You hated admitting, but you liked it. A lot. Your hand on his chest tried to push him away, but to no avail. Miguel ran his tongue up your chest, moving toward your collarbone, and eventually your neck, sucking at your skin. He grazed your neck with his fangs and felt you shudder under him. Your mammalian instinct made you tilt your head back, eyes closed, exposing your neck to him. (breakfast is served hehe) Miguel continued kissing your neck, listening to your soft pants and breaths. His hands played with the soft flesh of your thighs, occasionally gripping them and kneading them. He licked a particular spot, just below your jaw, near your ear, which made you moan softly. You grabbed his bicep in response. Miguel smirked, slowly pulling away from that spot, hoping to revisit it soon. "Mayday.. Mayday, Mayday," you panted, telling him that she was in the room and didn't need to see her babysitter get annihilated by... well, her father's best friend. Miguel stopped to look over your shoulder at Mayday, who was chewing on her million strawberries, not caring about a thing in the world. She met his eye and Miguel gave a wink. "Mmm... She's fine. You... however..." he purred in your ear, "que deliciosa, querida."

Hearing him hopefully compliment you in his maternal language made you weak in the knees. He was still in the same position, hands exploring your thighs, mouth latched onto your neck, but the more you felt him feel you. the more your body exploded. A strap of your dress fell down your shoulder and Miguel took it as an invitation to expand his territory. "Look at you..." he mumbled as his nose touched the crook of your neck, moving toward your shoulder. As gently as he could, Miguel sunk his fangs into your flesh, biting you. You instantly gasped, clutching his arm tightly. You were so glad your other arm hadn't broken into pieces. You had to regain your balance. You were as malleable as pancake batter in Miguel's hands. He brought his face close to yours, taking a long look at you, and kissed your lips. You could taste the sweet residue on his lips. His lips moved with yours, perfectly in sync. Unwilling to be patient, Miguel forced your mouth open and slid his tongue inside. He traced his hand down your thigh, the other holding you in place. He went to the one place you were hoping he would. Slowly and and incredibly seductively, his fingers crept inside your dress, reaching your panties. The heat between your legs made him immensely happy. Taking his sweet time, kissing you, he made his way inside, fingertips hovering over your throbbing core. He stopped kissing you and took another good look at you. He loved what he saw: you looking up at him, eyes beady and eager, lips pink and swollen, cheeks blushing shamelessly, neck damp with sweat, his marks all over you, chest heaving, shoulder exposed, thighs spread and his hand in between your legs. You whimpered a little and he asked, "Yes?" You shook your head, not wanting him to stop. And he didn't. His fingers invaded you, once, twice, swiping at your wet skin. You let out a euphoric sigh, closing your eyes and arching your back. Miguel devoured the sight of you. He did nothing but touch you and watch you respond to him so erotically. His gaze pierced through and through. You were so delicate. Hearing you relish his touch only made him want you more. And if there was one thing Miguel was absolutely sure of, was that he always got what he wanted. He felt your grip tighten on his arm as you neared your climax. Miguel deepened his movements, aligning the pace to the point of perfection. He watched you hold back on a throaty moan, really wishing you were alone and undisturbed so he could hear how much you enjoyed him. He felt you come, his fingers soaking in as much as they could. It made him go feral. Wishing he didn't have to, Miguel took his hand out, meeting your eye. He then did the one thing that turned you on wildly. He licked his fingers, tasting you, a small smirk plastered on his smug face. "Buenísimo..." he whispered. When he finally stepped back, you felt the absence of his magnetic pull and stood upright, steadying yourself. Before you even had the time to process what had just happened, Miguel pulled you by your waist and guided you toward the bedroom. Oh, this is happening... you thought. "Mayday, you're in charge. Go wild," Miguel instructed, winking at the child, who leapt out of her seat, pulling down her spider-beanie. Miguel ushered you inside, took his shirt off in a swift motion, and locked the door behind him.

#miguel o'hara #babysitter #miguel #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #mayday #smut #hot #Spotify

218 notes · View notes

making-the-crypt-rock · 5 days

Text

Lena, the Werewolf

Monster x human reader (wlw)

Mostly safe for work(nudity, depictions of a strap on), but trigger warning for domestic abuse.

Escaping a bad situation leads you to the small town of Denizen, where the people are hiding more secrets than just a beautiful state park. It's here that you meet Lena, the best bartender you've ever met.

(I'd also like to shout out @momolady , as this piece was inspired by characters in her Hearthway Hollow section)

"Finally away. Finally, I've gotten away." That's all I can think, as I speed down the road. As I wipe the last of the tears from my eyes, I try to control my breathing. Fortunately, I haven't passed any hidden police cars. The way I was driving, I would have been pulled over, for sure. Then again, maybe cops who didn't know my ex would take me seriously.

With clearer eyes, I catch sight of a speed limit sign. I slow down to match the thirty mile per hour limit. I figure that I must be getting close to a town. I'm not even sure where I am, right now. I just ran out of my apartment, got in my truck, and sped off. I didn't even have time to grab clothes, this time. He was so mad... I couldn't stay there. I can only imagine the state that my apartment's in, now. Caleb probably tossed the place and broke all my stuff. It's probably for the best that the majority of my most prized possessions are at my parents' house. But I definitely won't have my computer or a lot of the pictures I had hanging on my walls, when I go back. I shiver at the thought of him still punching holes in my kitchen.

I'm shaken from my thoughts, when I pass a sign. It says, "Welcome to Denizen. Home of Nethermoore State Park." The green of the basic road sign stands out against the fall colors painting the woods around me, making it hard to miss. I don't think I've ever heard of this town, let alone the park. Coming around the corner and over a small bridge, I'm met with a quaint town. Right away, I can identify a coffee shop, hardware store, gas station, grocery store, and a bar, most importantly. The lights on the street have hanging baskets decorated in autumn fashion, with fake, orange leaves and little pumpkins. There's not a stop light, even on the main road. This place is so much smaller than Stillwater.

I pull my truck into a space next to The Raven bar and grill. It stands out pretty well and has a very charming look to it, as it seems it's designed to look like a log cabin. When I park, I notice an older man leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette. He looks at my truck, before looking in at me. Then, he just looks away, taking a drag. Now parked, I take the chance to look at my phone. Fifteen missed calls, fifteen voicemails, and fifty-seven unread messages, all from Caleb. However, there are also a couple texts from my mom, wondering where I am and if I'm alright. Caleb must have called her to see if I was hiding with her and Dad, again. Hiding there didn't go well, the last time, though. He almost fought my dad to get to me. I'm pretty sure he'd do far worse, this time.

I send her back, "I'm alright, Mom. He's upset, because I finally told him that we're over and that I'm going to be moving out of my apartment and away from him, as soon as I can. It's finally going to be over. I'm going to be staying the night, out of town, but I'll stop by after I go collect my things, tomorrow." I watch the text bubble for "someone is typing" dance for a moment, before her reply pops up. She tells me that she loves me and that she's proud of me for finally leaving him. She tells me to stay safe and that she'll see me, tomorrow.

I store my phone back in my pocket and hop out of the truck. I hadn't gotten the chance to eat the dinner I'd made, and now I'm getting hungry. The smoker looks me up and down and nods at me, but gets a bit of a concerned look on his face.

"You alright, Miss?" he asks.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, just getting through a bit of a rough patch. I'll be fine," I reply.

"Well, this would be the place to help with rough patches," he says, pointing his thumb over his shoulder at The Raven. "But this is also pretty good and you look like you could use it." He fishes a tissue out of the pocket of his jean jacket and hands it to me. I take it and wipe the last of the moisture from my eyes and wipe my nose up, thanking him.

"No problem, miss. I'm Elijah, by the way. I own the grocery, next door, if you need anything, while you're here." Elijah smiles, kindly. He reminds me of my dad, in a way; sturdy build with dark hair and kind eyes. He's the kind of friendly that makes you feel calm.

"Also, miss, and not to pry on your business, but what brings you to town? Camping out the rough patch in the park or you just come for the pour?" he jokes, taking another drag from his cig.

"Oh, I'm YN. YN Green, and I'm just passing though. Needed to get away, for the night, and kinda ended up here by accident," I reply.

He chuckles to himself and replies, "Well, Ms. Green, if you believe the old folktales, no one ends up in Denizen by accident. Always something to find. Anyways, I'll let you get to finding what you need." I nod and thank him for the help. He nods back with a smile.

When I walk into the bar, a few people glance over at me. The place is warmly lit with hunting and sports decor all over the walls, ranging from old Wild jerseys and a gigantic, framed picture of the old Metrodome to mounted deer and fish. There are a couple TVs, too. All are silent, except for the one displaying a channel for the music playing over the speakers. Many of the tables are full, but I find a small one tucked in the back. The black chair I sit in has a little duct taped patch on it. The sound of bar chatter and 90s country is almost foreign.

Then, an older woman in a black t-shirt with the bar's logo walks over with a laminated menu. "Welcome to The Raven. Can I get you started with anything to drink?"

"Just a water, please," I say with a smile. She studies my face for a moment as she hands me the menu.

"Alright, I'll bring that right over," she says in a cheery tone. I look down at the menu. Burgers and sandwiches line both sides of the menu, with sections for appetizers and daily specials. Today, it's fish fry, like many Midwestern places do on Fridays.

Looking up from the menu, I take another look around. This place is different from my usual hang outs, but not in an uncomfortable way. Certainly, just... different. My eyes stop at the bar, where I notice one of the bartenders is looking at me. She glances down as she hands a customer a beer, but her eyes come back to me. Her short, brown hair is pulled back into a paintbrush of a ponytail, showing off her undercut. Her face is soft, but with a strong jawline. She looks athletic and like she enjoys her time at the gym. I'd bet she could open any jar of pickles she set her mind to.

The waitress comes back over and sets my water down. "Know what you're having, tonight?" I look from her to the menu and order the fish - three pieces with waffle fries, and I ask her to hold the side of coleslaw. She scribbles it all down and nods, taking my menu. "Thank you much. That'll be out in a bit." I nod and try looking back at the bar, but the woman is gone, pry helping someone at a different corner of the bar or checking in with the kitchen. Elijah walks in and takes a seat at the bar, giving me a wave when he sees me.

I pull my buzzing phone back out. Caleb's latest text says, "Where the fuck are you? You need to come back here and take back what you said. We're not over and you better be prepared to apologize, you fucking bitch." My eyes start to water, so I just swipe the notifications away. I open my phone and message my landlord about the situation. A friend of my dad, Mark has been working with me to document everything that's happened and get me out. He wishes he could just move me to his other property, but it's all occupied. With Caleb and I both on the lease, though, he's making sure that all charges for damages and fees for breaking the lease are going to him. He thanks me for the info and says he's going to go over and give him his thirty day notice. I thank him and set my phone down, again.

The waitress comes back over, but not with food. She hands me a glass with what looks like a kiddie cocktail in it.

"I didn't order a drink," I tell her. She lets out a little chuckle.

"No, but someone sent it over. Lena makes a mean Malibu Shirley." I glance over at the bar where the bartender, Lena, is looking at me, again, while she stands by Elijah, who's giving me a toothy grin and doing a goofy, finger twiddle wave. I smile at him, mouth a 'thank you', and thank the waitress. She smiles and walks off, again, towards a table of older folks having a rather jovial night. I take a sip of my drink. Sweet and fruity, not too strong. It would be great blended, on a hot summer day.

As the night winds on, I eat my dinner and stare at my phone, trying to find a local hotel. There's a motel at the edge of the state park, but it says that it doesn't have vacancy. The next closest one is forty-five minutes back the way I came. Far too close. I sigh, wishing I hadn't taken my camping gear out of my truck bed. I send messages to Mark and my parents, getting and giving updates about what's all been happening. Apparently, Mark took the police chief with him, to deliver the papers, and Caleb was detained, after they discovered all the damage. I still don't feel safe enough to go home.

Elijah came and went, telling me to have a good night. I order a few more Shirleys, as the night goes on. The waitress, LouAnne, gives me a polite smile, every time she stops at the table. I think I only heard her raise her voice, once, and it was to tell this old drunk he had to go home. Lena kept looking over at me, but I haven't seen her for a bit. I get lost in my search for a place to stay the night and the warm comfort of coconut rum.

Suddenly, the chair on the opposite side of the table slides out and the bartender takes a seat. "I'd ask if this seat was taken, but I don't think I've seen anyone use it, since you came in. Plus, it's getting close to closing time and I doubt anyones gonna come in just to snatch it," she jokes. "I'm Lena." She's even prettier, up close. I notice the little freckles on her cheeks and the crescent moons on her ear piercings.

"Yeah, the waitress told me your name. You're the bartender that likes to stare," I joke back. Her cheeks turn pink, but she laughs along, shoulders shanking. Her eyes are soft. They're green, like walking through a spring forest. "I'm YN." We shake hands and I can feel just how strong they really are.

"Yeah, ol' Eli told me about you. Said you blew in out of nowhere. He also said you might need a place for the night, and considering you've had a few more of my Shirleys than just the one I sent over, I'm gonna guess a ride somewhere, too." I feel my mouth fall open, ever so slightly. She sent it? Probably just trying to be nice, I suppose.

"You sent it? I thought Elijah did, cuz he saw me when I got here, so I thought he was just trying to help me feel better," I tell her. Her face gets a bit more serious.

"Yeah, I did. Elijah mentioned that you looked a little worse for wear, when you pulled up. Everything ok?" she asks, leaning in and resting her forearms on the table. I feel tears fighting to come out, but I hold myself together. Between the stress and liquor, it's a real battle. The crack in my voice, however is a different story.

Telling her, "I'm fine, just some stuff with my b... My ex." I have to correct myself. He's not my boyfriend, anymore. There's a slight shift in Lena's expression, but it passes quickly. "He's just being a jerk cuz I told him to get lost. But then I got lost and ended up here. Funny how that works." I know I'm rambling, but the words are hard to stop. Her face softens as her eyes scan me. She looks so amused.

"You're a little drunk, aren't you?" Not a question.

"Yes, ma'am. And youuuu started it." I point a finger gun at her and giggle. "You make a good drink." Lena smiles and lets out a soft chuckle.

"I'm flattered," she says, mockingly, placing her finger tips against her chest. Then her tone turns to the edge of flirtatiousness. "It's not every day I get such praise from such a pretty girl." I'm praying that the flush from the alcohol hides my blush.

"I, um... Thanks," I squeak out, causing her to throw her head back with laughter.

"God, that was adorable," she wheezes, trying to compose herself. Pretty, now adorable? I'm not even sure what to truly say, in response. "Ok, ok. Real talk. Eli said you were pry in need of a place to stay the night. Not to be presuming anything, but I've got a spot at my place. I have my basement listed as an Air BnB, and it's open, at the moment. Since it's just the night and short notice, you can just crash down there, if you need. If you found a spot, that's cool, too, but I just want to make sure you get where you're headed, safely." She sounds genuine about the offer. I didn't find a place and I didn't even think to check that site, with it being such late notice.

"Uh... Yeah, that would work for me, if it's not too much trouble. I promise I'll pay you back." Lena puts up a hand and shakes her head

"No need. I'm offering. Now, I get done in thirty, so just hang here, while I finish cleaning up and clocking out," she says. And that's what I do. I sit with my, now, almost dead phone and watch her work. She wipes down the bar and washes her mats, before mopping and taking out the trash. She lifts the large bag like it's nothing and I have to push a thought out of my mind, when I realize that I rocked my hips on the chair. She looks back at me, for a moment, before leaving the room, a strange look in her eyes.

When she and the cook lock up, I head to my truck for my charger and travel toothbrush. I expect her to head for a car, but she just starts walking. I try asking her about it, but she says she lives only a bit down the road and that she just walks.

"Do you want to just drive my truck?" I ask. I'd feel better not leaving it here, if I don't have to." She agrees and we hop in. Lena adjusts the seat back and tilts the mirrors. She rolls the windows down, too, letting the chilly, fresh smelling air in. Then, in no time at all, we pull into the long driveway of a gorgeous two story house. She parks my truck and we hop out.

"Hey there, Toasty," Lena babbles after pushing the door open. She looks back at me with an uncomfortable face. "You don't mind dogs, right?" Then, before I register it, we're both surprised by a very happy Staffordshire terrier bouncing out of the door and jumping up to sniff and lick at my face and hands, letting out a few barks. I laugh at the excitable dog and scratch his ears.

"I love dogs!" I laugh, as the dog sits for pets. "Is this good boy yours?"

"Yeah, he's my buddy." Lena leans down and pats his side. Then, he runs into the yard to do his business, before coming back to us. "Alright, in." He follows her command, trotting back through the door and we both follow.

Lena's home is beautiful. She has many different potted plants in her windows, a spacious living room, and a kitchen that would make my mom jealous. She gives me a small tour, only pointing upstairs to tell me she sleeps up there, before taking me to the basement. It's finished and she's set up a second entertainment area with a TV and an Xbox 360. I even spot some old guitar controllers, in the corner. There's a full bathroom and a bedroom, in the far corner with a nice bed already made up.

"I know you said it's alright, but I'm definitely paying you back for this. This is really too kind." Lena just shakes her head.

"Not happening," she replies, crossing her arms.

"You can't stop me from trying," I say, crossing my own arms and smirking. Her brow creases as she lets out a light snort. Lena takes a couple steps towards me and I feel the wall on my back. I stare into her eyes and am surprised that I don't feel the same way Caleb made me feel, when he would corner me. This time, I can feel my heart racing in places besides my chest. I see Lena's eyes dilate, as if she can tell that that's what she was doing to me, too.

She places her right hand above me and says in a low tone, "I can't stop you, YN, but I can certainly do my best to make you too flustered to keep trying." I can smell her sweet and musky perfume. Her eyes have the same amused look that they had, at the bar. She's playing with me, like I'm a toy. I've never flirted with another girl, like this. Sure, I kissed a few friends, in college, but I never really took the chance to pursue anything further. It was all just in good fun, but this? This is different. And so much more exciting.

"And just how would you do that?" I look at her chest as I trail a finger along her collar, before looking back up at her. I see her breath hitch as she takes in my response. Then, she gets more serious, an almost worried look in her eyes.

"You really want to do this? I need you to know that I didn't bring you here for anything funny and that, if you're just playing, I understand. I'm not the kind of person to just bring anyone home, especially not drunk girls. I'm... not the type for one night stands," she says, searching my eyes. Wouldn't this just be one night, though? I mean, I don't think I want it to be, but isn't that how it has to go? I just left Caleb. I can't just start in with a new partner, the same night. Then again, I haven't so much as kissed him, in over three months, and with everything he's done, I think I'm ready for someone who wants me.

I look Lena in the eyes, then down to her lips. They're thin and I can tell that she bites them, but they draw my attention in a supernatural way. I want to see more of her. I want her. Looking back up and meeting her eyes, I can almost see sweat forming on her brow, in anticipation of my answer.

I place my hands on either side of her face and let out a steady breath. "My brain has been so fried, this evening, Lena, but if there's anything that I know for certain, it's that I don't think I'd ever forgive myself if I didn't take this chance. I want this and I want you." Her eyes light up and I don't think she really knows what else to do, besides stare at me and bring a hand to my cheek. Her mouth is trying to form words, but nothing comes out. I let out a small chuckle, before leaning in just a little, glancing down at her lips, again. This time, she takes the initiative and kisses me, hungrily. My hands find each other, interlocking my fingers behind her neck. Her right hand, remains on the wall, while her left takes hold of my waist, pulling my body to hers.

"Fuck, your lips taste good," Lena growls. She tastes like peppermint and vanilla chapstick. I can feel my body turning on for the first time in ages, as she kisses me. She rolls her hips against mine and I begin to notice a firm object being ground against me. In my head, I let out a long "fuck." Lena hard packs. She's a butch who hard packs. I moan against her lips, grinding my hips to match hers.

"You're sure about this, YN?" Lena pants in my ear, huskily.

"All bark and no bite, huh?" I goad, trying to control my breathing as I plant a soft kiss on this woman's neck. She lets out a noise somewhere between a low growl and a chuckle, before latching into the side of my neck. Her teeth press against my skin and I can't hold back from moaning, which only seems to encourage her. She hungrily licks and sucks at my neck and I have to push her away, before she leaves a mark.

"Not there, just yet," I whine. "I want it there, but no visible ones, yet." She nods, a hungry look in her eye, as she realizes that this means she will have access to the rest of my body to leave marks on. She licks her lips as she looks me over.

"Fair enough." With a quick movement of her hands, I'm lifted off of my feet. I wrap my legs around her middle as her strong hands caress my thighs. "Then let's take this to my room, huh?" She gives a toothy smirk as she begins to effortlessly carry me up the two flights of stairs.

"God, you're strong," I tell her, making her smile.

"I have a very active lifestyle. When I'm not at the bar, I'm either in the gym or on the trails. And I work at the trail head, for the nature center. They have me split firewood, for the campers at the state park." I get a mental image of Lena all sweaty, wearing a wife pleaser and jeans, with an ax over her shoulder. She hums out a teasing tone, when she feels my muscles clench at the thought. One hand slides further up my ass and gives me a little squeeze, as we get to the second set of stairs. "I felt that, cutie."

I mutter into her neck, "Well, I could feel your strap, when you were grinding on me, so I guess we're even."

"You can do a lot more than feel it through my pants, if you want," she growls in my ear. When we get to the top of the stairs, I feel a wet nose touch my ankle. Toasty is looking at us, happy for company. Lena sets me down and gives his head a pat. "Sorry, buddy. You're going to have to sleep in the living room, tonight." He cocks his head, but trots down the stairs, when Lena tells him to go on.

Lena's room is spacious with a couple of dressers, thier tops covered in little knick knacks, a large book case with books ranging from older hardcovers to more contemporary, and a comfy looking king-sized bed with a maroon comforter on it and a large walnut chest at the foot of it. I excuse myself to her bathroom, for a second. I set my phone on the counter to charge and pull my toothbrush from my pocket. I give myself a quick cleaning and check my neck for a mark. Besides being a little red, I'm ok.

When I come out, Lena is sitting on the bed, looking deep in thought. She gives me a soft smile, when she notices I'm looking at her. I ask her what's wrong and she just gives a little shake of her head.

"I'm trying to figure out the right words, right now..." answers Lena. I give her a confused look and she sighs. "Well, there's... some stuff you need to know, if you're serious about this whole thing. And it's... It's going to be really hard to believe and make me sound insane." She looks almost terrified. I sit next to her and she keeps just looking at the carpet. "I hardly know you, YN... But I really feel a connection that I can't shake."

"I was feeling something similar..." I say. "Back at the bar? I just couldn't stop looking at you. Something in the back of my brain kind of just said 'that is the prettiest, most fascinating person you've ever seen, so you better not stop staring.'" She finally looks at me with a soft smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes..

"I'm... not quite a normal person." I raise an eyebrow at this as she searches for more words. "Well, you how I'm a dog person? Like, how I have Toasty?" I nod. "Well, I'm also a dog-person. With the hyphen, in the middle."

"So... You're a furry? Or is this like a pet-play thing?" I ask, thinking she's just worried about exposing a fetish.

Lena says, voice wavering in a way I would have predicted, "I'm... not entirely... human? I'm... I'm a werewolf." A goddamn werewolf? I turn and just stare at the floor, the same way she had been.

I sigh. "If you didn't really want to have sex with me, you could have just said." She looks shocked.

"I'm being serious!" exclaims Lena. "Want me to show you?" I look back at her and tell her very matter of factly that, yes, if she ever expects me to believe her that she's a werewolf, then I'm going to need proof. Holding eye contact with me, she offered her hands. I watch as they shift from the slightly muscular hands of the butch bartender to a set of furry claws. I jump back, almost falling off the bed. I don't even know what to say.

Lena stares at her hands and replies, "It's a genetic thing, so don't be worried about catching it. This town was made for our kind, a few decades ago. That's why people ask strangers if they're going to the park. It's a total safe zone for us to shift or be in our less-than-human forms. ...I'm sorry, I should have told you, sooner." She can't even look at me. She looks so ashamed. I'm trying to process it all, but nothing is computing, properly.

Slowly, I manage to ask, "Can... Can you always control it, like that, or... you know... Like, does the full moon make you wolf out?"

"I'm in total control, but the pack does get together, during the full moon, for a meeting and other activities. Mostly a midnight run or hunt," Lena explains. I look back down at her hands. They're still the paw-like, furry hands. "February can be a bit hectic, though." She laughs a little at this, but whatever it is goes over my head. Taking everything in, today, must have taken its toll, as this all starts to feel less and less insane. I place my hand on her shoulder and she stiffens.

"I've had... a very rough day, Lena. And I don't know if it's the drinks, the fact I've been so emotionally drained, or the fact that I thought you were a person I was genuinely 100% glad I met, a few minutes ago, but I don't think I care about... any of that," I say, tiredly, gesturing at her claws. She looks up at me, eyes wet with tears she's holding back, like water in a dam.

"You... you really don't mind that I'm..." Her lip quivers and I almost can't help but think it's cute. I give her a soft smile.

"Strangely enough, no." I sigh and replace my hand with my head, resting it on her muscular shoulder. "I just wish you'd saved it for a bit." I can feel her turn her head, a bit. "Not meaning that this was one, but telling a girl you're a werewolf is kind of a second date type thing." Lena bursts out with her hardy laugh, again, wheezing and letting her tears fall. I scoot closer to her and wrap an arm around her waist.

"So... I'll take it you want to keep seeing me?" Lena asks, sniffling and wiping away tears from her eyes and face with her paws.

"Yeah... I want to get to know Lena. But you need to do a couple things, first." She nods, smiling that beautiful smile. "1.) I could use some pajamas, 2.) I want to see your whole body do that, cuz that is so weird and I don't think I'll be able to sleep without seeing how that works, and 3.) you're big spoon." She laughs and leans into me.

She jokes, "Alright, but if you ask me to play fetch, you're sleeping downstairs." I pick my head up and look into her pretty, green eyes. I give her a quick kiss on the cheek and tell her it's a deal. Then, she kisses my forehead and gets up to find me some night time clothes. She hands me a white tank top and a pair of thin, black, cotton pants. As I'm about to excuse myself back to the bathroom, she turns away and pulls her shirt off. She does the same for her sports bar. I can see just how cut she is, now. My eyes linger on her toned back as I set the clothes on her bed. I, similarly, turn away from her, disrobing and watch her out of the corner of my eye, the same way you suspect she is.

As I pull her tank top over my head, I hear the zipper of her jeans come down. I watch with anticipation as Lena slides them over her hips, exposing her red boxers and the straps of the mount she's wearing underneath it. She tosses the jeans onto a chair that seems to house a few articles of "I'll wear those again" clothes as I finish pulling on the pair of pants. She digs in her dresser and pulls out a gray t-shirt and blue, flannel shorts. She casually brings them over to her bed and sets them down, all the while she's smirking, I know she saw my ogling her chest.

"You can look, YN. Wolves are pretty open about their bodies. Can't quite shift well in your clothes and expect them to be in decent shape, after." My eyes are scanning her body and I can practically feel my brain kicking me for not just telling her to shut up and fuck me, after I got out of the bathroom. Her tits are great and the outline of her strap is just... Ugh... "Also... I can smell every time you've been turned on, tonight. Glad I waited for you to be looking, when I did the trash." She winks as my face flushes bright red.

Then, moment of truth, she slides her boxers off. Her mounted dildo springs up from her thigh - dark blue and purple, large, and in a very uncommon shape. Of course the werewolf lesbian has a Bad Dragon. I make a mental note to look for the model, in the morning. Unfortunately, I don't get to enjoy it, before she slides the toy from her hips and puts it in the chest with what looks like more of her gear. Now I can see her well groomed bush. And she's about to get more hairy.

Lena looks at me, nervously, as she steps back to the center of her room, stark naked and asks, "You're ready for this?" I nod, sitting sideways on her bed. I take a deep breath as I watch her. She groans as her body shifts and elongates, growing hairier and more monstrous. I feel my body start to shake with fear, but I don't look away. Her kind eyes change to add tones of rich amber to the forest green. Her chestnut hair covers her body, changing to gray in many places. She's so much taller than me, now. And she has a tail! She looks straight out of a movie. Twilight, eat your heart out.

As I try to speak, Lena rasps out, "There's more." Then, she begins to shrink onto all fours, hands becoming paws, broad chest slimming, and cut muscles becoming less and less defined as a wolf, unrecognizable from any other, now stands in Lena's bedroom. She pads over to me and looks up with the saddest puppy eyes I ever saw, laying her head in my lap. She can definitely feel me still shaking, because she lets out a sad whine. I don't suppose she can talk, like this.

Carefully, I set my hand on her head and her tail starts to wag, ever so slightly. I pet her coarse, yet still fluffy, fur. She's like the husky my friend had, when we were kids. She lets out another whine, looking at me expectantly, but I just stare back. I think to scratch behind her ears and she seems to enjoy it, but shakes her head and takes a step back. I watch as she shifts back, groaning and growing more and more nude, until she's just plain, naked Lena.

"I forget that you can't understand me, like that." Lena walks back around the bed and hikes her boxers back up. She comes back around, pulling her shirt on and squats in front of me. "Are you alright? I know that seeing that is a lot, the first time." I put my hand back on her head and just play with her hair. She sighs and stands up, crawling onto the bed and pacing herself at the center. Her arms are open and she motions for me to come closer. I do, sitting between her legs as she wraps me in a warm hug. She sways and hums one of the songs that had been playing at the bar. I hardly even register it, when I start to cry. It feels like my body is just all of a sudden racked with sobs as I cry against her.

"It's alright, YN. It's going to be alright. I've got you." Three little words to make you feel at home. Two strong arms to hold you together. Lena feels like the one person in the whole world with both, and she is, right now. "I don't know what all you're going through, right now, or how much I've just added to all of the things on your mind, but I'm right here, for you, YN. I'm right here." She continues swaying and rocking me until I can't cry anymore. She wipes my teary face either thumbs and holds my cheeks in her hands, until I look at her.

"That's it. It's going to be ok. Want me to grab you some tissues? There's a box right over there." She jerks her head over to her right. I nod and she leans back, stretching out. She comes back with a small box of Kleenex and I take one, blowing my nose, loudly. She rubs my back and just sits, patiently waiting. After a few more tissues and a few more lingering hiccups of sobs, I'm left puffy-eyed and all cried out, leaning into Lena's warm hug.

"I think it's time to get some rest. We'll figure this out, in the morning, alright?" Lena softly asks. I nod against her chest. She scoots back, leading me with her hand, as I crawl behind her. "Ok. Let's just scoot back, here, and get comfortable and we can fall asleep, when you're ready. Come here." She pulls back the comforter and tosses the decorative pillows off the end of the bed. Lena, then, pulls the covers over both of our laps, as I lean into her, finding comfort in her warmth.

"Lena?" I whimper, trying to find my voice.

"Yeah?"

"This is all real, right now?"

"I'm afraid it is." I nod. "Is there anything I can do for you, YN? Anything at all that would help you though this?" She sounds so sincere, almost pleading.

"Just... Don't... Don't let me go. Okay? Promise me that."

Lena's face softens and she kisses me on the top of my head. "YN, when I said that thing about not doing one night stands, I meant it. There's nothing set in stone, but I trust my instincts and they're completely drawn to you. Wolves mate for life."

"I know this sounds weird, but haven't you had partners, before? You seem so confident and practiced." She laughs through her nose.

"I've had a few standing partners, but those relationships were for mutual physical needs. I'm twenty-seven and it's a bitch to be as horny as wolves can get, without having an outlet. Mostly women, but one was nonbinary," Lena explains, gently, rubbing my arm with her thumb.

"Men, but mostly because I was unsure. Looking at you... I don't know, it was just different." She nods along.

"It can feel like that, sometimes. And it's ok to feel unsure." Lena rests her chin in my head. "Also, and I hate to do this, but I'm going to run downstairs and let Toasty out, for just a second. I'll be right back, ok?"

I nod and reply, "Yeah, go ahead." She kisses the top of my head, before slipping out of the bed, putting on her shorts, and telling me she'll be right back, before disappearing out the door. I head to the bathroom, myself, while she's gone. Checking my phone once more, finding nothing but random notifications, before grabbing it and plugging it in next to the bed, for the night. I swipe away all of the notifications for calls and texts from Caleb, the fear of that whole situation feeling like a distant memory. I take a chance to look at his messages, all the same as they've been during previous fights. I know I have to go back to my apartment, tomorrow, to assess the damage.

When I hear Lena coming back up the stairs I shut my phone off and set it back down. She flicks the light off and climbs back into her bed to snuggle up to me.

"Can I ask one more big favor?" I ask.

"Anything."

"Can I come back, tomorrow? Stay a while?"

"Nothing would make me happier. Stay as long as you'd like. Preferably forever, but..." she jokes. I laugh and that makes her smile. "Aww, there's that cute laugh. ...Alright, now. It's been a long day and it's getting really late. We'll get you all settled, tomorrow. I already told Vix, that I'm not going to be in, tomorrow, anyways." Lena holds me close as she prepares to fall asleep. With the weight of everything, both being away from Caleb and from everything since I entered Lena's house, I fall asleep almost immediately. I barely make out Lena's, "Goodnight, YN," as I fade into the darkness of sleep, dreamless and safe.

#sfw smut #lesbian smut #monster fucker #monsterfucker #butch lesbian #wlw monster #monster wlw #werewolf gf #werewolf fic #werewolf girlfriend #monster x human #monster x reader

27 notes · View notes

sadhours · 8 months

Text

Billy abuses his body more than Neil does. In ways he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. Handful of pain relievers on an empty stomach, then a few beers and a pack of Marlboro’s. It’s best when he everything’s a little fuzzy and he’s at the pharmacy and has to stop and blink because he’s not entirely sure if his next step is gonna land.

The symptoms of his dad’s abuse wasn’t ever clear to him for months. Like when he realized his fist couldn’t clench all the way after his arm broke. Or when his left eye would water constantly when Neil headbutted him and split open his eyebrow. But the waves of vertigo was something he didn’t realize was because of so many blows to the head. He thought for the longest time that he just needed his ears cleaned or something, like the disturbance in his equilibrium was because of that. But on a night where his head was pounding and his ears were ringing, he wondered if it was due to how often his dad was attacking his head. Smacking across his face, kicking the back of head, slamming his forehead into the wall. Any of it could probably explain this ever present dizziness.

It’s part of why he hasn’t left this shithole, he can’t even drive for long before he starts to panic and feel like he can’t even control his body anymore. The booze seems to help, or at least, he knows what being drunk feels like so it’s not as scary.

But like in the pharmacy, he’s sober. He’s here to pick up a prescription for Susan. And suddenly the shelves are spinning and everyone’s smiles are growing too big and Billy takes a deep breath as he plants his feet. It’s getting annoying. Wishes he could go see a doctor and figure it out but as soon as he turned 18, Neil took him off the insurance. And well, he saved money from the pool but not like, that much. He just swallows hard, tells himself he’s okay and continues on. To his shock, he doesn’t fall. But he does stumble into someone. Oh, fuck. Anyone but her.

“Billy, hi,” Karen’s makeup waves around her eyes but Billy knows he’s seeing shit and the thick blue shadow isn’t actually moving. “Are you okay?”

He raises his brows, his tongue feels too heavy in his mouth and he feels like he’s floating up and up and up and looking down at the pair of them in the middle of the incontinence aisle. His voice doesn’t sound like his own when he answers, sounds like it’s far away, “Just peachy, Mrs. Wheeler.”

An ice cold beer is calling his name. If only he can hurry up and get this task done. But time feels like syrup, too viscous for Billy to swim through. He tries to be conscious of his body, tells himself he’s blinking at Karen and he’s literally standing on his feet. Conversations are the worst when he gets like this. He’s saved on driving Max to school because he can blast his music and focus on that instead of how he feels like he’s floating.

“You look pale,” Karen sounds far away too, and also extremely irritating as he wants to be alone right now. All the time. “You sure you’re feeling well?” she presses the back of her hand against his forehead.

“Yeah, listen, great to see ya,” Billy grumbles as he pushes her hand away, “Even if it’s not in a swimsuit.”

Karen looks upset but Billy’s stepping away, floating down the aisle until he gets to the line which contorts fifty different ways and shapes until it’s his turn. He swears he hears a voice behind him but when he whips around, no one’s there. He places his palms on the counter, looks to the pharmacist and his stomach churns something wicked. Billy goes to say something but there’s this pitch black liquid spilling from his mouth and onto the counter. The pharmacist screaming tells him it’s not an hallucination.

#idk what this is #Billy Hargrove

71 notes · View notes

cranechel · 1 month

Note

Do you think Chilchucks kids are weirded out about the Marchil age gap, or is he the only one seeing himself as a dirty old man

this is such an interesting question, actually, because it depends on a lot of things. (for the record, i think it's hilarious when his daughters are weirded out by the age gap, i like thinking about it all the time, even when it doesn't really fully truly makes sense).

so the thing with dunmeshi and ages is that it's very evident most people can't reliably tell how old someone from another species is (people assuming halflings are kids; namari guessing falin's age as "twenties to forties"; etc) so i don't think the girls can tell genuinely lol. maybe they hear marcille is fifty and go "hmm that's younger than i imagined adult elves to be" or something or the other but they can't be sure, right.

HOWEVER i can so clearly in my head see marcille get really into the differences between ages across species (after she's gotten over her elf/long lived species arrogance, which she has once she's actually dating chilchuck lmfao) and calculate it or ask chilchuck how old she looked to him as a halfling or something like that... and i can see her so clearly in my head go "oh, i'd be about your age as a halfling, isn't that neat!" to his daughters, meaning absolutely nothing by it, while chilchuck is like WHY WOULD YOU TELL THEM THAT <- guilty lmfaoooo. so yeah it very much depends on if they find out how old marcille actually is for an elf but if they did know she's very young i do imagine they'd feel very weird about it. they'd eventually get used to it (it's easier to swallow bcuz it's such an abstract concept; plus marcille makes chilchuck happy and they're like yeah ok whatever as long as they're happy) but it's definitely WEIRD to them. they're definitely giving him looks(tm) over it. i can see flertom tease him about it too lmao (meijack most likely doesn't care all that much, though she's silently judgy; and i think patti gets along w marcille super well so she gets over it fast. though it does always weird her out anew that marcille feels like a peer to her and then she remembers marcille is in fact dating her dad lmaooo)

#these are my thoughts idk.... i think about this a lot actually lmao #marchil #answered

22 notes · View notes

thosehallowedhalls · 3 months

Text

Confrontation

Book: Crimes of Passion (pre-canon)

Characters: Emma Rose (F!MC), Michael Masako (M!OC)

Rating: Teen

Word count: ~1200

Summary: Emma is finally ready for therapy. But is she also ready for what it entails?

A/N: Submission for @choicesmonthlychallenge, prompt: I don't know who I am anymore. @choicesficwriterscreations

Dr. Michael J. Masako came highly recommended. He’s also more or less affordable, which a 20-year-old broke college student needs to take into consideration. Especially if she wants to attend that performance of A Doll's House next week.

Emma fidgets in her seat in the waiting room, drumming her fingers on her thighs. Immediately, she hates herself for it. If there’s one thing she doesn’t do, it’s show her nerves for all to see. Surreptitiously, she looks around. No one is paying her the least attention.

The receptionist looks up from the computer screen. “Emma Rose? Dr. Masako will see you now.”

She walks to his office on shaking legs, wishing she had stopped for coffee on the way, so she’d at least have something to occupy her hands. A good-looking man who appears to be in his fifties opens the door for her.

“Emma, come in.” He shakes her hand, then gestures to the chair on the other side of his desk. “Please, sit.”

She likes his smile. It’s professional but warm. She still doesn’t know if she can go through with this, but she’s put a little more at ease.

“What brings you here, Emma?”

“Er… that is…” She clears her throat. “I’m not sure.”

That’s a lie, of course. Emma wouldn’t even have considered therapy unless she was sure. But how do you tell a stranger I don’t think I know how to feel anymore?

“All right. Why don’t you tell me a little about yourself, then?”

“I’m a pre-law student at NYU.”

“That’s a very good school.”

“I guess.”

“Do you know what kind of law you want to practice?”

“Oh, I don’t want to go into law. I’m going to be a cop.”

If Dr. Masako is surprised, he doesn’t show it. He clicks his pen and taps it on his palm. “I see. What made you choose pre-law, then?”

“I figured it made sense. You know, can’t defend the law unless you know the law, that sort of thing.”

“Sound logic. Your parents must be very proud.”

“Oh. Um…”

He waits her out, and damn it, she needs to learn interrogation techniques from this guy. “My father is dead,” she says at last.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

She shrugs.

“And your mother?”

“I doubt she’d care. She walked out on us when I was six. I haven’t seen her since.”

“How old were you when your father died?”

“Thirteen.” She takes a deep breath and decides the hell with it. “He was murdered. Right in front of me. He died holding my hand.”

She didn’t mean to say this last part aloud. But every time she thinks about that day, it’s in snippets. The stale air in the tunnel. The stickiness of her thighs after sitting under the sweltering sun. The taste of a corn dog still coating her throat. The clammy feel of her dad’s hand in hers.

She lowers a mental shutter against the thought. Block it. Kill it.

Something she learned early on is to block out the images, to push them aside as soon as they begin to creep out. At the end of the day, if she wants to make it through the day with her sanity intact, it’s important. Necessary.

Impossible.

“That’s a lot for anyone to deal with, let alone a thirteen-year-old.”

“Yeah, well. I survived.” Unspoken is he didn’t.

“That doesn’t mean it hasn’t left a wound.”

She gives him an unimpressed look. “A wound? Slicing your finger when you’re chopping onions leaves a wound.”

“A wound can be deep and life-changing, Emma. I’m not diminishing the gravity of what you've experienced.” He clicks his pen again in what she’s coming to realize is a signature move. “What scars would you say your father’s murder has left in you?”

“Other than the obvious?” She probably should have held the sarcasm at bay, but what kind of question is that?

Dr. Masako isn’t the least bit ruffled. “What’s obvious to you may not be so to others, but yes. Other than the obvious.”

She takes a deep breath. This is why she’s here, isn’t it? To learn how to cope with the scars from her father’s death. She just didn’t expect to be thrown in at the deep end so fast, is all. “I…” Her throat closes up.

“We can talk about something else,” he says, matter-of-factly. “If you’re not ready to talk about this, we can shelve it for now.” He smiles. “Most people stand to benefit from therapy in more than one area of their lives. I’m sure you aren’t an exception.”

She smiles, grateful. “No, I can do it. It’s just…”

“Take your time.”

“My dad didn’t want to go, you know. To that baseball game. He’d had a tough week at work, and he just wanted to watch a football game at home and drink a beer. But I wanted to go.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Perhaps not, but that doesn’t change the fact that he wouldn’t even have been there if it wasn’t for me. I… I haven’t been able to stomach watching a game since he died.”

“That’s understandable.”

“It feels wrong, though. Baseball was something my dad and I had in common. I don’t think he’d be happy with me that I just stopped watching it.”

“Do you think about that a lot? What would make your father happy?”

She fidgets. “Kind of. Sometimes. Yes.”

“You seem uncomfortable. Do you think you shouldn’t?”

“I think… I think I no longer know whether I do what I do because I want to or because of him. I don’t know who I am anymore.” She stops herself. “God, that’s such a cliché. What does that even mean? Of course I know who I am. A girl with one too many flower names who spends more of her paycheck than she should on theater tickets and shoes.”

“That’s a good start. But you still said that you don’t know who you are. Part of you means that.” He clicks his pen again, and God, she’s starting to hate the sound. “It seems to me, Emma, that you spend a lot of time on what you should be feeling and very little on what you actually feel.”

“What, you’re telling me to go around whining?”

“I’m telling you to let yourself feel what you feel. If you don’t give yourself the space to do so, all the emotions you’ve been burying are going to come up eventually. Most likely at an inconvenient time.”

She tastes the sticky aftertaste of fear on her tongue. “I can’t.”

“You survived a deeply traumatic event when you were just a child, but you’ve never really let yourself cope with it. In order to move on, you must do so.”

“I don’t know how to cope with it. That’s why I’m here.”

“Then you’ll learn.”

“How the hell do I do that?”

He clicks the pen. She’s tempted to snap it in half. “The first step, Emma? Stop running away.”

#emma rose #detective rose #oc: michael masako #crimes of passion

22 notes · View notes

whomst-art-thou-whomst-whomst · 1 year

Text

Oh No! Here Comes Trouble: (more) Headcanons

Look I have no excuses left. I’m trying to channel Guangyan’s academic success and only succeeding in channeling Yiyong’s. They practically owe me a season two at this point for making me the OnePer of my own life.

1.) Chuying has gotten…well. A tad bit “cautious” now, never mind her coworkers’ gentle comment about her being “totally fucking paranoid,” because they didn’t have to scrape Yiyong’s broken body and Guangyan’s broken heart off the floor of a museum, leaving their own broken confidence behind, now did they? Its not really a problem. Until it is. Until she clotheslines one of Guangyan’s little college friends who’s running towards him and looking shady about it (who looks happy at school on a Tuesday? Villains. Psychopaths. Pastry chefs. Bad people, that’s who). It’s possible her boss was right to force her to go to therapy. She will not be telling him that. She maintains overcaution is best (Yiyong had laughed when he’d heard about it and Guangyan had looked suspiciously gleeful at the sight of his supposed school friend’s cartwheel through the air), so it’s fine.

2.) Yiyong’s first case post coma two (ugh) is a dead violinist trying to locate his lost sonata that it turns out his fake friend stole and killed him over. After the case is settled, Guangyan waxes on about some dumb movie called Coco and forces Yiyong to watch it. It’s after one of Yiyong’s PT sessions, so they sit in Yiyong’s bed for it. There is approximately no room and Guangyan keeps hissing about how certain people treat their guests, but they eventually create a blanket fort, largely by accident, and settle in to watch. Yiyong’s mother joins them partway through, smelling like dye chemicals. Yiyong is not upset by the story. He isn’t. He’s upset by his mom’s worn out voice as she asks random questions about the film like Yiyong knows things, he’s upset about the stupid plotting because the stupid kid doesn’t feel like he can follow his stupid passion and is missing his stupid family, he’s upset by Guangyan’s very soft hands that keep wrapping around Yiyong’s arm (annoying, clingy, he makes no move to stop him) during sad moments. So that’s why if he cries a little, it’s because he’s upset about those things.

3.) Yiyong’s mom and Guangyan’s dad have a “what the shit are the kids up to” drinks session a few nights a week. She’s convinced him to try her favorite beer. Neither of them really have many friends, but they have some very strange young people in common and a lot of silences in their lives where there used to be more people. One of their favorite drinking games involves the number of times the kids will text complaining something predictable about each other, or whether Chuying will send a vague, panicked text about something they are definitely not supposed to be up to.

4.) Guangyan has a terrible, terrible day. Everything goes wrong. He oversleeps by fifteen minutes, he gets two questions wrong (wrong???) on an exam, he drags his feet in dejection on the way to lab work and gets scolded for being “almost late,” and one of his classmates tells him he “doesn’t look great today.” In a fit of frustration at his own imperfections, he sends Chuying and Yiyong a rare introspective text wondering if he’s just the absolute most worthless, useless person ever. Chuying sends back about fifty inspirational Pinterest posts about how you’re ❤️special as you are❤️, and follows these up by threatening to come over and beat up whoever made him think this (he declines carefully). Yiyong says nothing in the chat, which he expected. But. He comes home and finds that Someone has drawn a picture for him, crumpled it up and thrown it through his window (based on the dirt on the outside, the toss failed several times). The drawing is rendered in sunset colors, and it’s of the teacups ride at the amusement park. It’s beautifully drawn, with careful detail down to the design on the teacup. In the forefront, two figures are whirling around in a teacup. One looks a little grumpy, the other one is alight with joy and shaded in with soft pastel. The caption simply reads, “The Most Worthless, Useless Day Ever.”

5.) The trio go on expeditions together—not just for cases now, but because Chuying saw a cool festival, or Guangyan needs people to come with him to this horrible networking event (and later regrets this deeply), or Yiyong gets that distant look in his eyes and needs to start walking. He likes that his people, his two people (and his high school friends, if he so chooses) will go somewhere, anywhere with him for no reason. Even just to sit on a bench somewhere. He thinks a lot on these walks. About how Chuying needs to stop second-guessing herself these days, because something hurts in his chest to see the mighty OnePer flicker with doubt; about how Guangyan always gets the same look in his eyes when he’s overworked himself and is about to fall asleep on Yiyong’s shoulder (he’s not entirely ready to examine why he always waits around on late study nights with anticipation for those moments); about how much he wishes he could have introduced them both to his dad and grandfather. He thinks about how his family is here and not-here, all still with him one way or another, and how he’s probably going to start drawing that comic again soon (after all, he did have that one reader, why not dream big?).

#whomst #oh no! here comes trouble

66 notes · View notes

rphelperblog · 2 years

Text

Lizzie Saltzman Quote Rp Meme

I’ve got a lot of secs...I mean time.”

“I’m trying to rise above it so let me freaking rise.”

“Did she who must not be named just fat shame me?”

“Are we poor?”

“That is why I have decided to permantly release my inner bitch.”

“If you hurry, you can catch up with blair bitch and tongue chum her again.”

“Distracted during a monoluge, classic villain mistake.”

“For the record, this selfless act of heroicism fully cancels out my previous dodgy behavior.”

“I just have this feeling that everything is going to work out just fine.”

“Only a threat to those dumb enough not to fall in line.”

“Great luck sending jimminy cricket after me.”

“”Aparently not long enough to think of something clever to say.”

“Fifty shades me.”

“This sentient jar of artisinal maynoaise.”

“Don’t worry. I will just ask him about star wars and he will talk the whole time.”

“This is a nergasm, not a plan.”

“If I am destined to die in my prime, at least let it be in a blaze of heroes glory.”

“I know that I am great, but everyone else- terrible.”

“I spent a lot of time bettering myself over the summer and I am gonna need you all to rise to my level.”

“This is terrible news. It’s freaking fall not winter. What am I gonna wear?”

“I’ve always wanted to be apart of a power couple.”

“I’m mad at the world and you just happen to be in it.”

“Thanks a lot. Way to ruin life for the rest of us.”

“One word. one word and I could burn her perky little boobs to ash.”

“We aren’t in the prison yard, ass hat.”

“Would you like to be the robin to my batwoman?”

“You’re fine. Just a little- Slutty.”

“We are gonna suck?”

“Anything to keep me from picturing my sister’s tragic visit to the shire.”

“Sometimes, she was just tired or having a bad day or whatever.”

“I just want to soak in this gold moment when we thought that your plan would work.”

“You are pagent pretty, reasonable well spoken and the added benefit of being an orphan.”

“It’s effective, but her methods- quaint.”

“Screw this world.”

“Well, in that case, screw personal growth.”

“I’m sorry. We can’t all be born with resting pouty face.”

“We get it you came back. Now, disapear again.”

I fancy sex with you. The jury’s out on all the rest.”

“For the love of frodo, go rescue your hobbit. We will muddle through.”

“I’m a taste maker. An influencer. people don’t know what they want til I tell them they want it.”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve seen that on a poster at the dentist’s.”

“New plan. The gloves are off. Let’s burn these bitches to the ground. We’re going to give these townies a taste of what we’re really made of.”

“No one has been better off without you.”

“And we don’t exist for just one boy.”

“This is an honor. It’s so nice to know that you all love me as much as I love myself.”

“Epic former frenemy reunion is going to have to wait.”

“A mission for a hero and her league of- whatever.”

“In order to conquer, we had to divide.”

“i thought you would have wanted to spend the day canoodling with your hipster boyfriend.”

Ew. Wait, that leaves me with High-and-Mighty Granger. Like Hermione Granger, but just more stuck-up?”

“You only get one chance to make a good first impression, and you don’t want to be the girl that wears a uniform to a school that doesn’t have uniforms.”

“That wreath can’t go there. That is where the doves are being released which is after the video, remember?”

“Oh god, he has got you speaking nerd.”

“I’m getting back to me. I am who I am.”

“If you would be happy to be my date to my birthday on Friday.”

“Do I look pretty when I play quarterback?”

“You are not friends. Your just a montage.”

“I’m not worried about losing the election. I’m worried about what I’m going to wear to my victory rally. The outfit makes the speech.”

“No, I am not a virgin.”

“Oh god, that was my inside voice.”

“For once, your weird relationship with my dad is paying off.”

“You cannot leave me alone with just her for company.”

“I was making an entrance mop head.”

“If she still wants to kill me, the safest place I can be is right next to you.”

“No, I am right on time to kick your ass.”

“On a scale from horrific to apocalyptic, a 12.”

“That is such a move.”

“I am nosey, in like a charming way.”

“Do I look like a nerd?”

“nothing that you and I will be proud of.”

“It’s hero time.”

“Nu-uh, we are all good.”

“Are you seriously telling me that I am going to die because I become a better person?”

“on the bright side, we are all happy that you are single.”

“I don’t do trash.”

“I should have said this earlier but black isn’t your color.”

“No wonder you had a thing for me.”

“Is it because I am prettier than you?”

“It’s so much less impressive when you give the hero speeches.”

“Oh god, I am having an episode again.”

“I did. I do. Also- I am incredibly turned on by him.”

“I prefer to die with dignity.”

“Unchain me, and maybe I will tell you. You thrift store hobbit.”

“Trust me, no one thinks that.”

“We are about to die. Figure something out.”

“I’m unique and special and for some reason I am angry at the world because of it.”

“Good morning... more like despair.”

“I care that instead of being welcomed at the airport, we were stuck taking a shuttle that smelled like a sewer for three hours.”

“See the new you is so snarky.”

“Be surprised quitely.”

“So buckle up. We are in this tell the bitter end.”

“It’s okay. Just let it out the real way. Like you have needed too all this time.”

“All good things, I hope.”

“What is with the performance anxiety?”

“Why? I am wearing polyester.”

“Who is this trollop?”

“When I said that I wanted to hang out, this is not what I had in mind.”

“This is the definition of girl power. I am proud of us.”

“If you tell anyone else this, I will deny it, but I am glad you are back.”

“WIth global warming, I might never see the florida keys because of you.”

“who better to put a touching memorial to me than me?”

“That hair, that shirt... oh, I see you have a point there.”

“We are airy clouds flying high above a tuburlant sea of teenage drama.”

“He is hot and crazy and the language barrier would make it hard to communicate. Just how I like it.”

“Why are you carrying a sword?”

“Sorry, I think.”

239 notes · View notes

bizkitsnuggets · 2 months

Text

MEMORIES AND SKETCHES.

masterlist.

The teacher talked endlessly as [Y/N] drew small doodles of whale-sharks in her sketchbook mindlessly. She also drew two cigarette sticks purely because she has yet to find out Jotaro's favorite brand.

The girl of course, without realizing, drew a bluefin tuna. This time she didn't draw it just by itself. She added a person, a fisherman. The bluefin tuna was freshly caught and it reminded her of the first time she went on a fishing trip with her father.

She was seven years old at the time and it was late spring. That's usually the time where bluefin tunas become available in the sea of Japan. [Y/N] was the one who asked (forced) her father to take her on a fishing trip and he obviously had no choice but to oblige. He thought it'd be a good idea to show her just how bizarre the ocean world is.

So, there she was, in a boat with her father's crewmate. As they're doing all the work, [Y/N] sits on top of a barrel all cutely. It wasn't until a few moments later that one of her father's crewmates alerted them about some sort of big fish. The girl's father then ushered her to come see.

"Alright kiddo, don't get any closer. Just watch and learn." Her father told her before reeling his fishing rod into the water. Not long after, the rod started to wiggle, startling [Y/N] and her father. "This is it!" he shouted, his crewmate then took some sort of dart with a rope and when the fish was near the boat, he threw it. [Y/N]'s eyes widened as her dad pulled the fish onto the boat.

The fish was humongous, it was almost larger than her dad. "This is the fish they usually use in sushi, kid. It's called bluefin tuna." He extended his hand so the girl could take a better look at it. [Y/N] didn't know if it was the sun that made the fish look so majestic. Never in a million year would she expect herself to call a fish "majestic" but here she is. It was practically shining.

The girl could only look at it with her mouth open and her eyes wide. Her words were taken away from her and her muscles seemed to stop moving. It was the first time she'd seen a fish that big in real life. She would be lying if she said she wasn't a bit taken aback.

But after that, she never saw a bluefin tuna again. She'd only see it already sliced up and served as food whenever she went out to restaurants.

Well... not until one day, in her second year of Highschool, she had gone to the beach to take pictures of the sunset. She stood by the shore, holding her digital camera up and took a picture of the golden hues.

It was mesmerizing to say the least. Suddenly, she heard a flapping noise beside her. Her head turned to the sound, and to her surprise it was a stranded bluefin tuna. It was flipping around, struggling to get back in the water.

The girl backed up out of surprise. She didn't know what to do. She wanted to help, but she wasn't authorized for that and there was a possibility that she could end up hurting the fish. So, [Y/N] did what any sane person would do, she called to the fishermen that were nearby.

It didn't take long before they started running towards her. However, [Y/N] didn't know why, but she felt as if the fish was glowing. She didn't know if it was the radiant hues from the sun, but it was weirdly alluring.

Slowly, she put her hand up as the sound of the shutter camera went off. Suddenly, she felt the urge to look to her side. Again, she didn't know why. And there he was. The infamous troublemaker, Kujo Jotaro. He was a few feet away from her, looking at the sunset.

He was far away enough for him to not notice her but close enough that she could still make out his facial expression. His brows were furrowed, his face as if made of stone. He looked normal, he looked like he would every day at school. That same scowl, that same lidded eyes. But despite that, he looked remorseful.

Oh, after missing fifty days of attendance he's finally back. I wonder what happened.

That day was a core memory for [Y/N]. She never cared for Jotaro, she never spared him a glance. But that evening made her change her opinion on him a bit. He reminded her of the bluefin tuna which was stranded. Jotaro looked lost, stranded. Just like the fish.

"Ms. [L/N]? Ms. [L/N]?" The teacher called out to her. The girl looked up from her notebook, "yes sir?"

"What's so interesting about your notebook, Ms [L/N]? Mind sharing it to the class?" He interrogated her in a sharp tone.

"No sir, sorry."

#jotaro x you #jjba jotaro #jojo jotaro #jjba part 4 #jotaro x reader

7 notes · View notes

archvillain-fandom · 4 months

Text

response to barry lyga’s un/edited

Not sure what this is. A book review, maybe. A creative writing exercise. The ramblings of a madwoman. Whatever it is, it had to be written.

We’re sitting in the backyard of my childhood home, on our butts, on the grass, on top of the hill. It’s not the backyard as it is now, years after we sold the house and the new owners remodeled it, but it’s not the backyard from my first memories. The treehouse that my dad built for me at age 10 is in the avocado tree, and the giant eucalyptus has been cut down. I stare at the stump, big enough for a little girl to use as a table for her dolls.

“Who am I?” my indefinite companion asks.

“You’re Kyle Camden,” I reply.

“Oh.” Kyle looks at his body, which is suddenly a lot clearer. “From Archvillain?”

“Sort of,” I say. “You’re a version of Kyle that I extrapolated from Archvillain. You’re close to the character that was written, but not exactly the same. You’re a subversion of the real thing.”

“There is no ‘real’ Kyle Camden,” Kyle says.

“Touché.”

“So what’s different about me?” he asks.

I sigh. “Who knows? Maybe you’re less snarky. Maybe you have more empathy. Maybe you’re really me, when I was twelve. Who knows?”

“You said ‘who knows’ twice in the last paragraph,” he points out.

“I’ll get it when I edit,” I shrug. “Or maybe I won’t edit this. His book is called ‘Unedited,’ after all.”

“It’s called ‘Edited,’ too,” Kyle says. “Doesn’t that mean you should edit?”

I sigh. “Don’t be a smartass.”

His eyes widen. “Wait, we can curse in this?”

“Sure,” I say. “This isn’t a Scholastic book. This is a blog post on a blog with fewer than fifty followers. Nobody’s going to care.”

He laughs, long and loud. “FUCK!” he yells. And then, not as loud, but just as exuberant, “Fuck, that felt good! I’ve been wanting to fucking swear since I was fucking created.”

I laugh too. “I’m glad I can offer you that much, at least.”

“After all I’ve given you?” he says dryly.

“Well, fuck, Kyle, don’t act all self-important now.”

“That’s the character,” he says. “That’s the original character.”

“I guess,” I say.

He furrows his brow. “If what you say is true, though… I’m not the original character. I’m an approximation, based on your interpretation. Which means that I clearly mean a lot to you. Which means that I’m not being self-important. So there!”

“You’re being a smartass again,” I say.

He shrugs wordlessly. We both stare at the eucalyptus stump.

“You know,” I say, finally breaking the silence, “I don’t think I ever used that stump as a table for my dolls. I think I just said that in the first paragraph to evoke memories of a rosy childhood, playing in the backyard without a care in the world. In real life, I think I was too anxious about getting my dolls dirty to take them outside.”

Kyle turns to look at me, but doesn’t say anything.

“Or maybe,” I continue, “I didn’t make that up. My sister convinced me to bring our dolls outside, and I went along with it to make her happy. I don’t remember.”

“You have a sister?” Kyle says.

“Younger,” I say. “Three and a half years apart.” I nod in the direction of the stump, at the bottom of the hill. “When that was a tree… the lowest branch was level with the second story of the house. It looked like a hundred feet up– maybe it was. My dad hung a rope swing from that branch. No fucking clue how he got it up there. But he hung a rope swing with a hundred feet of rope– well, there were two ropes holding up the swing, so I guess it was two hundred… hmm…”

“Focus,” Kyle snaps.

“Anyway,” I say. “My sister was a climber. Climbed everything vertical. And so she decided to climb the rope swing. There were no knots or anything, just straight rope. But she took her shoes off, rubbed dirt on her hands, and started climbing. She was seven or eight. And she climbed up, almost to the top. And she made eye contact with my mom, through the second-story window.”

“And then your mom screamed, and your sister panicked, and lost her grip, and fell to her death,” said Kyle.

“No,” I say. “My mom kept her cool, and ordered her to come down. My sister made her way back down the rope, endured a lecture, and is now a student at the same college that I went to.”

“That’s a bad ending,” Kyle tells me. “There’s no payoff. We learn nothing.”

“I have a fear of heights,” I tell him, although that seems kind of redundant. “Now you’ve learned that.”

“I don’t have that fear,” he grins. “I can fly.”

“I know.”

“It’s kind of weird that you have a fear of heights, but love a story about falling,” he says.

“Falling?”

“Yeah,” he says. “Archvillain is about falling.”

“What do you mean by that?” I ask, but he only shrugs.

I wait a moment, before I say, “You don’t sound like the real Kyle.”

“I told you, there is no real Kyle.”

“Original Kyle, then. The non-bastardized Kyle.”

“Maybe that’s because you’re writing me,” he says.

“Probably,” I agree.

He says nothing, and so I add, “The tree story is my running-in-front-of-a-car-to-get-an-action-figure story.”

He throws his hands up. “Oh, now we’re talking about the book!”

I shrug. “If you want, we can.”

“If I’m Kyle Camden, then I must be, in some way, partly Barry Lyga. And if I’m partly Barry Lyga, then I must want to know what you thought of his– my– book.”

“I think the part of you that’s me is placing much more weight on my opinion than the part of you that’s Barry Lyga really would.”

“Fuck, that’s confusing,” says Kyle.

“I got confused writing that sentence,” I say.

“But seriously, what did you think of the book?”

“It was…” I try to think of some adjective, and fail. “It was. It existed.”

“Seriously?” Kyle says in disbelief. “That’s all you’ve got? Aren’t you supposed to be a writer?”

“I’m a writer,” I say. “I never said I was a good writer.”

“‘It existed,’” Kyle mocks. “Wow. Put that on the cover of the second edition. ‘It existed,’ signed Amanda P———, owner of one of the most obsessive Tumblr blogs in existence. That’ll sell more copies.”

“It–“ I sigh. “Isn’t that a compliment? In a work of metafiction, where the characters are grappling with their existence, under an author-god grappling with his own creations, under the real author grappling with his publisher, isn’t it enough to say it existed?”

“No,” says Kyle.

“You’re infuriating,” I say.

“It’s why you like me,” he replies.

I exhale. “The truth is that I don’t get this book. But this book gets me. You follow?”

“No,” he says again.

“It’s just–“ I take a breath, and try again. “It’s just that when I read it, something clicked. Details lined up. It was like it was written for only me.”

“It wasn’t, though,” he says.

“No, you’re not getting it. I had like, a God moment. It was the same feeling that I had when I first read your book.”

“Didn’t you read my section in Unedited?” Kyle says. “God isn’t real. It’s a coherent 13-dimensional waveform–“

“Alright, I don’t feel like typing the whole rant out,” I say. “I get it. I’m not special.”

“Whatever details you thought ‘lined up’ were just coincidences. Common human experiences.”

“You’re starting to sound like Lyga’s Kyle again,”

I say.

“If you’re to be believed, that’s who I really am,” he says. “Or maybe your bastardization has stuck. Maybe, in his mind, a part of you has embedded itself in his conception of me.”

“Or maybe that’s just my ego talking,” I say.

“Maybe,” he says. “I think you have a bigger ego than he does. Which is saying something, considering he wrote a book where he’s both God and the Devil.”

I put my head in my hands. “Fuck this shit. Can’t we just go back to sitting in the backyard?”

“Sure,” says Kyle. “It’s nice here.”

We both sit.

I say, finally, “I did like the book.”

“You only read it to see me,” he says.

“Well, yeah, at first,” I say. “But then I couldn’t stop. Screwed up my whole day at work because I couldn’t get my mind off of it.”

“You work?” Kyle says.

“I’m twenty-two,” I say. “A college graduate. Of course I work.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a government drone,” I deadpan. Kyle chuckles. “I work for my city. For now, possibly forever.”

“It’s funny,” he says. “I never pictured you working.”

“You’re a fictional character,” I tell him. “You can’t picture anything.”

“I can picture as much as he can picture,” he says. “Or, well, as much as you can picture that he can picture.”

“Well, I was fourteen when I first read Archvillain,” I say. “I wasn’t even a babysitter back then. And now–“

“Now it’s been, like, eight years,” Kyle says.

“Nine, nearly.”

“Jesus. That’s a lot of time to be devoted to one book series.”

“I have other interests,” I say. “I have stories that are really mine.”

“But they’re not Archvillain,” says Kyle.

“Yeah,” I say. “I guess it ties back into that ‘first love’ theme.”

“A book series is not a first love,” Kyle says. “Enough of me is you that I know Archvillain was not your first love.”

“I had Archvillain before I had her,” I say.

“Her?” Kyle says. “You’re gay?”

“Bi,” I say. “Maybe. Or ace. Or gay. Or straight. Does it matter? I loved her the way Mike loved Phil. The way you love Mairi.”

“That’s not healthy,” he says.

“No,” I agree. “That’s why it ended.”

“Do you regret it?” Kyle asks.

“I hate her some days,” I say. “Most days. I hate myself for blowing it up, too. It was really my fault that it ended. If I hadn’t freaked out when she set a boundary, we’d still be friends.”

“You weren’t together?” he asks.

“Nah.”

“Damn.”

We sit, until Kyle says, “I’m gay too. I think.”

I laugh. “I was never sure whether Barry Lyga always intended you to be gay, or whether he just did that to make my teenage self happy.”

“Guess you’ll never know,” says Kyle.

“Guess I’ll never know,” I say. “Although, you and the Mad Mask…”

He groans. “It doesn’t matter. When the series ends, the young Mad Mask is hell-bent on revenge, and the old Mad Mask is lost to time. It’s not happening.”

“Then, you and Mike…”

“It’s not happening,” he says again.

“If I were writing the series…” I start.

“But you’re not!” he interrupts. “It’s not your series. It’ll never be yours.”

“And yet you’re partly me,” I say.

He looks down at his blue-gloved hands. “Yeah, well. Sometimes stuff sticks.”

“Yeah.” I pause, and then I say what’s been on my mind since I read Edited. “Do you think the email is based on me?”

“Email?” He furrows his brow. “What email?”

“In his book. George writes an email to Gayl Rybar, or maybe Barry Lyga, telling him how important his work is. That he kept him from killing himself, because of his writing.”

“I liked George,” mused Kyle. “When I met him.”

“When I was sixteen, I emailed Barry Lyga. I told him how important his work was. I didn’t say it kept me from killing myself, but that was what I was thinking. Do you think that part was based on me?”

Kyle frowns. “I doubt it. He probably gets a lot of teenage emails.”

“Maybe,” I say.

“I think it’s stupid to think that anything in that book is related to you. Maybe Barry Lyga put an Archvillain section in knowing that you’d enjoy it– maybe. But I think you’re just desperate for connection, as a new adult in a remote job, and are leaning back on your old favorite series for comfort.”

“Maybe,” I say again. “You sound like his Kyle.”

“I only sound like Lyga’s Kyle when I’m making you uncomfortable,” he says.

“Maybe,” I say, for the third time.

“You thought that email was written by George?” Kyle asks.

“When I read Edited, I did,” I say. “George is a fan of Gayl Rybar. It makes sense.”

“But he isn’t a fan in Unedited,” says Kyle. “So he can’t have written it, since Lyga wrote that book first.”

“Yeah, I guess I can’t really know,” I say. “It’s all fictional, anyway.”

“Never stopped you from wondering before.”

“You’re very aggravating,” I tell him.

He raises his hands in defense. “Hey, you’re the one writing me.”

I pick my legs up off the grass and hug my knees. “I can’t believe I’m twenty-two.”

“You’re young. Don’t complain about it,” Kyle says.

“You’re younger than me. You’re twelve.”

“I’ve been twelve since 2010. Technically, I’m older than you.”

“In Barry Lyga’s original outline of Archvillain–“

“Oh, shut up!” Kyle exclaims. “Nobody cares about that but you. There’s not going to be any more Archvillain– no books, no short stories, no cartoon. You need to get over it, and grow up.”

I glare at him. “Can I finish my fucking sentence?” He rolls his eyes, and I continue, “In the original outline, Kyle gets visited by his future self in Tomorrow Today. I was fifteen or sixteen when I learned that, and I thought, okay, how old is future Kyle? And I settled on twenty-two.”

“And now you’re twenty-two,” he finishes.

“Exactly. And I keep thinking of going back in time, of talking to my younger self. Of what I would say.”

“What would you say?”

“I don’t know. That it gets better? That I shouldn’t feel so guilty all the time? That I should keep writing? I doubt I’d listen. I doubt you’d listen to your older self, if that book had ever been written.”

“I think you’re thinking about this a little too much,” says Kyle.

“Okay, that definitely was the Lyga part of you.”

“You’re still writing me,” he says. “And I’m sure Barry Lyga, the real one, doesn’t see me as half him, half you. I’m all his, in his mind, and you’re a deranged fan who needs to find a hobby.”

I accept this. “You’re probably right.”

“Of course I’m right. I’m a genius,” he says.

I smile. “I did kind of kidnap your series.”

“That’s a good way of putting it,” he says.

“I’m writing a book about that now,” I say. “Kidnapping. Murder. Real dark shit.”

“That’s a departure from the middle grade stuff.”

“Yeah, well,” I shrug. “You gotta write what you gotta write.”

“Like this piece?”

“Yeah.”

“You know, for a book review, we didn’t talk about the book that much,” Kyle says.

“Yeah, well, if he wants an actual review, he can look on Goodreads. Anyway, I’m going to call this a response, not a review.”

“Very English major of you.”

“Thank you.”

“Not a compliment.”

“If I was a real English major, I would know how to end this,” I say.

“There we are, tying back into the book!” Kyle exclaims.

“It wasn’t intentional. I think that endings are hard for everyone.”

“Oh,” says Kyle. “But it has to end sometime.”

“I guess it does,” I say. “How would you end it?”

“I’m guessing that people hailing me as a true hero isn’t an option?” he says. I shake my head. “I don’t know. Sitting here is nice. We could just keep doing that.”

“That’s a bad ending,” I say. “There’s no payoff. We learn nothing.”

He shrugs, for the final time. And we sit.

#archvillain book #barry lyga #kyle camden #unedited #writing

9 notes · View notes

theycallme-thejackal · 1 year

Text

One MidgeLenny x TSwift Fic Per Day

109. 22

It’s 1980, and Esther Maisel is about to turn twenty-two.

It’s weird to think that her mother was married at this age. And of course, Mama and Grandma Rose are discussing that fact in the kitchen after dinner. “Miriam, why don’t you let me set her up with someone? At her age, you were married. Don’t you want the same for her?”

“Do I want her married to a man who will have an affair and leave her with her own suitcase? Boy, Mama, I’m going to have to think about that.”

That had made Esther stifle a laugh so as not to be heard eavesdropping. She’s grateful Mama isn’t pushing her to get married. Or letting Grandma Rose set her up on countless dates. She’s very happy with her life right now.

“Mama, I didn’t start dating Lenny until I was thirty. Esther is nowhere near running out of time. Just let it go, please.”

“I simply don’t want her to miss out on the opportunity to be a mother.”

“I had Sarah well into my thirties,” Mama replies. “Esther has plenty of time. If she even wants to be a mother. I am not going to force that on her.”

“What to you mean if?” Grandma asks, clearly appalled.

“Spying, are we?”

Busted.

She grins sheepishly up at her stepfather. At fifty-four, Lenny Bruce looks almost exactly the same as he did the day Esther met him. Tall and skinny - but far less skeletal than he was in the height of his addiction - his dark hair has started to gray, and he still makes her mother ridiculously happy.

Lenny nods his head toward the back yard of the brownstone, and Esther follows, sitting down on the steps. “What are they talking about?” He asks as he pulls out a pack of cigarettes.

“My uterus,” Esther answers with a shrug.

“You have one of those?”

“I hope so. Or else I’d get that monthly bleeding checked out.”

Lenny barks a laugh at that and flicks his lighter, inhaling deeply. “Thank god you inherited your mother’s sense of humor.”

“I had to to keep up in this house,” she reasons. Lenny exhales a puff of smoke. “You know those things will kill you, right?”

“It’s better than the other thing,” he comments, taking another drag.

“Sorry,” Esther says, hugging her knees to her chest.

Lenny nudges her. “So...twenty-two...Jesus, I can’t believe I’ve known you almost twenty years.” Esther smiles back at him. “Do you remember the first time we met?”

She furrows her brow and shakes her head. “I was like...three.”

He grins. “Yeah,” he confirms. “You were three years old, and I came over to pick up your mom for dinner, and before I even got to the door, I could hear you screaming bloody murder.”

“About what?”

He chuckles and taps the ash from his cigarette. “Apparently your brother had gotten a little too aggressive playing with this stuffed monkey you had and ripped its head clean off.”

Esther cringes. “Oh, god.”

He laughs again. “Well, your grandfather answered the door looking pretty annoyed over the whole ordeal - ”

“Sounds like Papa.”

“Yeah, it does,” Lenny agrees. “And he shoves you into my arms and runs off to hide in his study, and the second I held you, you stopped screaming,” he explains.

She lifts her brows in surprise. “I did?”

“Yep. You put your little head on my shoulder and conked the fuck out.” She laughs at that. “And your mother comes running out into the foyer, this decapitated monkey in her hands, my tie wrapped around its severed neck, and I swear that was the moment I realized I was gonna spend the rest of my life with her. With all of you.”

“God, you’re a sap,” she teases.

Lenny grins and wraps his arm around her shoulders. “Love you, peanut.”

She wraps her arms around his waist. “Love you too, Dad.”

#midgelenny #midge x lenny #midgexlenny #tmmm fanfic #marvelous mrs. maisel fanfic #otp: more important than god #jackal fics #mltswift

60 notes · View notes

madwheelerz · 2 years

Text

Madwheeler Dissection- Family Edition

A talk in the similarities and differences between Mike and Max’s family situations. This actually drives me insane, and I personally think it’s wild.

First let’s talk about the lack of positive father figures in their lives.

Mike’s father, Ted Wheeler, is very inattentive. From the little interactions Mike has with him we see that Mike is very annoyed with him and doesn’t seem to like or care much about him at all. This is pretty vice-versa as well. Ted seems pretty willing to let Brenner and his men do whatever while Karen is expressing skepticism regarding what they could possibly want with her son. It’s also interesting how in all of season one Mike reassures El using his mother. He never says that his father will help her he just says his mom will. He also says that El would have sisters in Holly and Nancy. There is no mention of his dad. It’s like his dad is an afterthought, most likely due to Ted’s own negligence which we see Dustin callout pretty often.

Now Max, oh boy Max. Max’s biological father is all the way in California, so we don’t see or hear much about him, but it doesn’t seem like he keeps contact with her. Max does remark at some point that she misses him though. Max’s mom seems to want nothing to do with him, but notably Max has kept his name. He’s absent from her lift in any case. Then we have Max’s stepfather, Neil Hargrove. Neil is legitimately an awful person. He abuses his son and it’s unclear if he does this to Max or Susan. The most that Max says about Neil is that she’s glad her mother divorced him even if their lives are more difficult for it.

Now the estranged opposite gender older sibling. This isn’t an invite to compare Nancy and B*lly. He sucks. She doesn’t.

I know a lot of people want a Mike and Nancy family bond, but let’s be real it’s pretty nonexistence. Nancy doesn’t seem to show much care for Mike unless he’s in immediate danger and even then, it’s a fifty-fifty shot. She doesn’t dance with him like she does for Dustin. She promises to be there, but she never is when he reaches out. Mike seeks her out first when it came to finding a substitute for DnD and she looked at him as if he’d committed some sort of war crime. We also know Vecna showed her a horrible vision of something happening to Mike, most likely his death, and that she doesn’t approach with any sort of affection even with that hanging over their heads.

I think maybe we brush past exactly how bad their dynamic was in season one. This isn’t new. Mike was convinced Nancy would sell him out to the government. We have multiple characters question the idea of Nancy and Mike working together. Even the ever-inattentive Ted knows that. When the boys are hiding with El we have Lucas remark how weird the idea of Nancy contacting Mike is. Their relationship was never all that. Even after promising not to keep secrets, we immediately see a huge distance between the two again. While Jonathan is constantly with Will whenever danger arises, Nancy is never really with Mike. In season one she’s with him briefly at the school. In season two we only really see them together when driving away from the lab. In season three she literally leaves him in the mall. You can’t tell me you see Jonathan doing any of this. Yikes.

Obviously then we have Max and her strained relationship with B*lly. The entirety of season three is basically Max trying desperately to push away the notion that there could be something wrong. Now Max struggles with her feelings when it comes to B*lly because he is a pretty sucky guy to have as an older sibling, but she doesn’t want him to be possessed even if she’s not sure she likes him. B*lly is the source of many traumas for Max. She watches him nearly run over the party because she refused to do what he said. She also watches him attack Lucas because of her. Her relationship with her brother is mentally abusive (I don’t think he’s hit her until he was possessed).

She bares the unfortunate burden of these conflicting feelings of relief when B*lly is gone, but it’s coupled with guilt. In conclusion her relationship with B*lly is messy. She doesn’t really like him, but she doesn’t want him dead except his death relieved some part of her. This a response to the mental abuse that she suffers from him.

An odd little add-on is the fact that Nancy drives Mike to school just like B*lly used to do with Max and both sibling relationships are strained.

The neglectful without meaning to be mother.

Karen Wheeler while we know she cares about Mike, does he? I don’t think so. Throughout the series Mike experiences various encounters with loss and the supernatural. He goes home and he’s upset, but no one really approaches him about it. Sure, we have Karen tell him that he can tell her anything, but that only occurred once in season one. She never does it again for Mike, but she does it twice for Nancy. She reaches out to Nancy in season one and in season three. With Mike it’s always him kinda exploding under the weight of his emotions until he can’t handle it then him seeking out his mother’s comfort. This is probably at least partially why he’s so surprised when his mom hugs him at the end of season four since she’s never really the one reaching out.

Susan Hargrove also cares about Max a lot. We see her express concern when she returns home and Max is gone out with Lucas. We also see her affectionately prepare Max for the Snowball. She isn’t around often though. This is extremely evident in season four after she gets her second divorce. Susan comes home and drinks often. She doesn’t seem all there given everything that’s happened, but she tries to do her best by Max by making enough money for them to live on. She’s neglecting Max without meaning to.

In conclusion, even their family lives seem extremely intertwined. The one piece that Mike’s family has without direct comparison to Max is their youngest, Holly, and we don’t see her often.

#madwheeler #platonic madwheeler #madwheeler dissection #thoughts and theories #max and mike #same person different font #I hope I did this well #but this is what won out

102 notes · View notes

soleilthedeity · 6 months

Text

Twisted Wonderland Next Gen AU, Part 1

Jamilah Bint-Asim

She's the middle child and only daughter to Kalim Al-Asim and Jamil Asim. She looks identical to Jamil, and because of this, she's often scrutinized and looked down on by other members of the upper class. Her existence is a constant reminder that the lowest class has infiltrated the aristocracy. She is an omen of what the previous generations are terrified of. Jamilah acknowledges that because of this, she won't find love in the aristocracy, and she doesn't think many people "lesser" than her are going to actually like her. Because of this, she has dumbed herself down to be found appealing as a marriage candidate, seeing this as her "duty to (her) family" despite how little Kalim cares about traditional roles. She is highly intelligent, crafty, quick-witted, cunning, and strategic. She is the kind of girl who will debate with you for hours without faltering once. But still, she feels as if she needs to make herself more palatable for the masses and any potential suitors. She taught herself sewing and embroidery, a skill she will not need because she intends on marrying someone with a minimum of fifty servants, but it's an attractive skill set nonetheless. She makes herself appear smart but not smart enough to outshine her husband, dumb but not dumb enough to be impossible to talk to, and utterly beautiful but not desirable enough to attract a second lover. She hates it all. She despises the idea of having to marry for her power, she's exhausted by sitting pretty, she's tired of holding her tongue, and she is so thoroughly done with this carefully crafted persona she made for herself. It sickens her. It sickens her that Rayon is only the heir because he was born first, not because he's better than her. It sickens her that Khalil gets to act so carefree and go out every night, not giving a single damn that he will be nothing in the grand scheme of things, even going as far as to truly love a man and nobody batting an eye at him. But may the seven forbid Jamilah even glances at that beautiful boy with teal hair and glowing yellow eyes. He's smart mouthed and quiet and oh so perfect, holding a conversation with her with ease. It's as if he's made for her, but she can't risk giving up her only chance for power. When she meets that pretty Leech boy, she's already on her way to becoming unstable and greedy, desperate for a chance at being recognized as great. It only worsens when Rayon is elected as Housewarden of Scarabia, and he has the audacity to pick Romilde Bucchi as his vice. Romilde is the son of Najma Viper and Ruggie Bucchi. He acknowledges himself as lesser, as death fodder, and yet he's still held in higher regard than Jamilah? Are you KIDDING me? Sure, she dug her grave by trying to seem like the perfect woman in the eyes of the assholes picking wives for their sons, but this was downright insulting. She'll do anything to be recognized, even if it means hurting the only people she can still willingly love.

Jamilah either seizes the title of vice housewarden using her signature spell and overblots, or she does something grand and gets briefly suspended and a talking to from her dads. It all spills out eventually, tears streaming down her face as she confesses to everything.

"I want to be loved! I want to actually mean something to someone, but I want to be recognized, too. I don't want to be forgotten! Everyone will remember Rayon, he'll be the head Asim after all, but nobody will remember me unless I marry well! I hate sewing, I hate embroidery, I hate watching my weight, I hate this awful feeling that I'm going to mean nothing in the end! I just want to feel better. I want to be loved..."

Everything after that will be revealed at a later date, but here's a nice little info dump.

Signature Spell

Red Dancer

"As my venom seeps into your pores, you recognize me as your master."

Jamilah can produce a venom that can induce an impressionable state when touched by another person. After the venom infects the afflicted, it will leave them susceptible to anything Jamilah asks of them, ranging from physical commands to mental ones. The effects will last anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour, even longer if swallowed or injected into the bloodstream.

While under Jamilah's control, the afflicted will refer to her as "Master" or "My lady" while the two are alone, but if commanded, they will refer to her as Jamilah around others.

The afflicted's eyes will appear hazy and glossed over, and unless commanded not to, they will keep a blank expression and monotone voice

Jamilah can spit her venom up to six feet away, but she first has to let her venom pool in her mouth

The venom she produces is a dark purple color, but if she were to overblot, it would turn black

Her most common way to infect people is by spitting her venom because the spell will quickly melt into the skin, but when she administers it another way, her verbal incantation changes. ("As my venom drips down your throat, you recognize me as your master."/ "As my venom fills your veins, you recognize me as your master."

When infecting her victim by pouring the venom into their mouth, it tends to stain their teeth purple. When biting them, it leaves to large puncture wounds.

Because her UM cannot affect her, the purple venom she produces can stain her lips, skin, teeth, and mouth an amethyst-y purple.

Misc Information

Straight C+ student, enough to pass each class but not enough to excel

Impressive magic, but frequently overshadowed by what her brothers can do

Biggest daddy's girl despite the fact she actively tries to annoy them

Convinced herself that asking Jamil to do things would annoy him, and it doesn't help that Kalim is frequently busy

Saw a photo of Cater in college and immediately decided to base her entire wardrobe around her style

In a shitty garage band, she made her own t-shirts but talked herself out of showing anyone in the family

Adores her grandfather (Karam)

She's getting fangs

Absolute asshole, will taunt anyone and anything

Acts like Rayon's bodyguard whenever Romilde is doing his own thing

She does a lot more around the house than anyone (except probably Jamil) has realized

Somehow scored an inferiority complex in her early years that later transformed into a superiority complex

Taught herself the accordion because she was bored

Has been poisoned a dozen or so times, kidnapped only five times

He lowest ransom sum was 20,000 thaurmarks

When she was younger, she would crawl into one of her parents' laps and nap there

Her signature spell is either going to be fire related or venom related, either way I want it to be highly dangerous and seem out of character to anyone not close to her

She drives Khalil everywhere, and sometimes she'll insist on driving Rayon when she decides he's unfit to drive (mild headache, sick, tired, hungry, etc)

Lies through her teeth CONSISTENTLY

Convinced herself that she didn't actually earn an invitation to NRC and it was Kalim throwing money at Crowley

If any of the next gen kids were to overblot, I guarantee she'd be one of them

Surprisingly sporty, she joined the basketball team upon entering NRC

She looks exactly like Jamil and Najma, it's uncanny

Genuinely loves her family, but she resents the fact they aren't all that normal

She is a very romantic person, but she actively avoids seeking out relationships out of fear of being used for wealth

Already asked her dads to arrange her a marriage by the time she graduates

She is incredibly pessimistic, calling Rayon "The cause of half my problem and yet one of the reasons I can still smile."

There are multiple videos circulating of Jamilah fighting people, mainly without magic but sometimes with

Professor Trein has sent multiple emails about how it's obvious Jamilah is holding back, but she denies it consistently

Loves her Auntie Najma and thinks her Uncle Ruggie is cool

Asked Floyd if the carpet matched the drapes during the OG gen's reunion and she got popped on the mouth in the same breath

Clinically depressed but will pretend that diagnosis doesn't exist

Sometimes when she's upset she'll scour the house to find Jamil, grab his hand, sit him on the couch, and then cuddle into him like she's a small child

Weird obsession with Kuromi and My Melody

Collects porcelain toys and lines her shelves with them

She refused to speak until age three

Her preferred method of communication is throwing things and vague gesturing

Great at strategy games, absolute shit when it comes to luck based ones

Sometimes she remembers she won't ever truly enjoy life and she cries until she stops breathing

Asthmatic

She has an incredibly unhealthy relationship with food

Hates how tall she is, refuses to wear heels because of it

Jokes about killing herself a little too often, but never in front of her dads

Goes shopping with Maria Octavia because she doesn't have many good friends

On her way to becoming an addict of some kind if she doesn't chill out

Has attempted to fist fight Sebek Jr. before (while drunk AND while sober)

Called Farris a bitch one time and now she doesn't remember a solid week of her life

Distrusting of all things

She asked Najma to draw bridal henna on her one time, she pretended she married some faceless man who'd be the love of her life

Has played multiple public shows before, but they don't do well

Her sneaking out method is much different than Khalil's, instead of being as quiet as possible she'll slam the door open and make a break for it

Has hopped many fences

Doesn't shoplift but has thought about armed robbery

Her favorite foods are chocolate coconut cookies and spicy noodles

She genuinely enjoys classes about ancient magic

She wants to be one of the Great Asims, but she gave up on that dream as soon as she recognized what a line of succession was.

She wants to visit the old ruins in the Briar Valley and the ghost towns in the Sunset Savannah.

She loves karaoke but hates asking people to go with her, so she usually goes alone.

She rarely sleeps, sitting in Rayon's room and wondering if he's as worried about life as she is.

Her love language is physical touch, so although she's bad at expressing her feelings, she hugs her family frequently.

Her coping methods usually involve self-inflicted pain, finding it the only way to regulate herself. It's not healthy, and she'll work on it eventually.

Autistic.

Student Profile

Name: Jamilah Bint-Asim

Abjad: جميلة بنت عاصم

Kanji: ジャミラ・ビント・アシム

Birthday: April 2nd (Aries)

Age: 17

Height: 5'7 (170 cm)

Dominant Hand: Right

Homeland: The Scalding Sands

Family: Kalim Al-Asim (Father), Jamil Asim (Father), Rayon Al-Asim (Brother), Khalil Al-Asim (Brother), Najma Bucchi (Aunt), Ruggie Bucchi (Uncle By Marriage), Romilde Bucchi (Cousin)

Other Names: Sick, Milipede (Josephine Leech), Dame Venimeuse (Emilia Schoenheit-Hunt)

Grade: Sophmore

Class: 2-B

Club: Basketball

Best Subject: None of them

Hobbies: Making music

Pet Peeves: Procrastination

Favorite Food: Falafel

Least Favorite Food: Soup

Talent: Finances

School Uniform

Summer: A short sleeved white button-up shirt with a maroon sweater vest paired with an above-the-knee-length black skirt and white tube socks. She also wears black loafers.

Standard: Red sleeveless hoodie, standard blazer, black pants, maroon arm warmers, maroon leg warmers, black loafers.

Dorm Uniform

Cropped black hoodie, full length sleeveless dorm jacket, hazard tape style belt, standard scrabia pants, the red side panels are ankle length, standard shoes.

Lab Uniform

White lab coat with purple stains near the collar, black gloves, whatever school uniform she was wearing that day

Club Wear

Standard basketball uniform with a purple cheetah print headband and matching sweatbands. Her hair is in a tight bun.

Potential Event Outfits

Beans Day: Monster Camo, styled similarly to Vil's but with both shoulders covered. Hair tied up in low ponytail.

Fairy Gala: Similarly styled to Leona's with cinched waist like Jack's, white and gold, wearing white heels with gold accents. Her hair is braided.

Ghost Marriage: Black tux with maroon and gold accents, black Louboutin heels. Her hair is down.

Wish Upon a Star: Standard ceremonial gown, minus the weird ass tights. Her hair is in a high ponytail.

Scary Monsters: Standard Scarabia wolf costume.

Master Chef: Standard Scarabia chefs uniform, hair hidden inside hat (beneath a hair net).

Camp Vargas: Thick red sweater with a bright yellow hazard vest on top, heavy duty hiking backpack, knee length black shorts, thick black tights, knee pads, brown hiking boots, cheetah print leg warmers, fluffy cheetah print beanie. Her hair is in a high bun.

New Years: Black kimono with a golden snake pattern, a ruby obi, and a thick black veil with golden trim (hides her whole face). Her hair is down.

Harveston: Literally just Jamil's outfit. Her hair is braided. She has on cheetah print earmuffs too but those are removable. The white trim is now cheetah print.

Port Fest: Standard outfit, wearing a white mini skirt instead. Her hair is in space buns.

Glorious Masquerade: Maroon floor length gown with gold trim, a gold long necklace, gold belt, gold heels, gold headpiece, and a maroon venetian mask. Her hair is half up and half down.

Rabbit Festival: Literally just Epel's outfit but with a baby blue cupcake dress underneath. Her hair is in pigtails.

Swimwear: Black bikini with a yellow snake pattern, a sheer golden swimsuit cover, and golden sandals. Her hair is in a high ponytail.

Playful Dress: Lilia's outfit, but remove the tights and make it black, ruby, teal, and gold. Her hair is in a braided crown.

Extra Information

Jamilah's original design was gyaru, and I still add many elements of gyaru fashion into her outfits, but I've toned it down a lot more.

If she overblots, Kalim will bribe Crowley to reduce her expulsion down to a two week suspension and a month of detention.

Kalim taught her how to play the drums.

#soleilthedeity #twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #kalim al asim #jamil viper #najma viper #ruggie bucchi #next gen #jamikali #jamil x kalim #kalim x jamil #ruggie x najma #najma x ruggie

16 notes · View notes