Very important question for you đ€ I saw the mommy kink mention in your pinned post so in your opinion, which of the housewives would be into it, which would be neutral about it but allow it, and which would be like no way?
All For It:
Eileen Davidson (she would be into it, kinda gives her an ego boost, sheâd even go as far as being okay âand maybe a little turned onâ by calling her Daddy)
Erika Jayne (more into the power dynamic side of it, but she can easily take it and run with the concept)
Jill Zarin (it would have to be under the right circumstances, but Jill could very much be into it, especially if she got to tease you with it)
Kim Richards (she is first and foremost a caretaker, and while she isnât a fan of it all the time, she does just sort of take on a natural mommy type role)
Vicki Gunvalson (to Vicki itâs just another way to show her love and assert her control, so sheâd be into it, just maybe donât call her mommy excessively, it might take her out of the mood)
Take It Or Leave It:
Adrienne Maloof (would be amused by it, but would have to be in the right mood)
Bethenny Frankel (it doesnât freak her out, and she likes the control aspect, but too often and it becomes more of a chore than fun)
Jeana Keough (she doesnât mind it, but if youâre just looking for someone to take care of you, say that, and she will, she doesnât need the context of kink to justify it)
Kyle Richards (I could see her liking it, but only as a sometimes sort of thing)
LeeAnne Locken (she could be into it under the right circumstances, she refers to herself as mommy with her dogs, so thereâs definitely potential, though not a big thing for her)
Lisa Rinna (she likes it in more of a teasing way, like just to sort of get you riled up)
Ramona Singer (she might think itâs cute, maybe even a little sexy, but sheâd only indulge in it in moderation)
Sonja Morgan (I can see her liking it if you like it, itâs something fun and sexy to tease you with, but itâs not one of her favorites)
Hard No:
Camille Grammer (she doesnât mind the concept of a mommy role, but would absolutely get the ick at the usage of the word in the bedroom)
Carole Radziwill (she has no kids of her own, so a mommy role feels off to her, and sheâd probably still think itâs weird if she was a mom)
DâAndra Simmons (sheâs got her own mommy issues, so sheâll be avoiding this one as a rule)
Denise Richards (really just doesnât do it for her, would totally take her out of the moment)
Dorinda Medley (she doesnât mind taking care of someone, but thereâs a certain level of maturity she expects, and having a mommy kink doesnât work for her)
Gretchen Rossi (it kinda makes her feel old and uncomfortable, so itâs not going to be for her)
Lisa Vanderpump (would absolutely ridicule you if you ever called her mommy)
LuAnn De Lesseps (while she most definitely loves to take on a dominant role, âMommyâ is simply not for her, it feels too strange)
Sutton Brown (itâs really just not for her, would be a major turn off, thatâs not really her type of role)
Very important question for you đ€ I saw the mommy kink mention in your pinned post so in your opinion, which of the housewives would be into it, which would be neutral about it but allow it, and which would be like no way?
All For It:
Eileen Davidson (she would be into it, kinda gives her an ego boost, sheâd even go as far as being okay âand maybe a little turned onâ by calling her Daddy)
Erika Jayne (more into the power dynamic side of it, but she can easily take it and run with the concept)
Jill Zarin (it would have to be under the right circumstances, but Jill could very much be into it, especially if she got to tease you with it)
Kim Richards (she is first and foremost a caretaker, and while she isnât a fan of it all the time, she does just sort of take on a natural mommy type role)
Vicki Gunvalson (to Vicki itâs just another way to show her love and assert her control, so sheâd be into it, just maybe donât call her mommy excessively, it might take her out of the mood)
Take It Or Leave It:
Adrienne Maloof (would be amused by it, but would have to be in the right mood)
Bethenny Frankel (it doesnât freak her out, and she likes the control aspect, but too often and it becomes more of a chore than fun)
Jeana Keough (she doesnât mind it, but if youâre just looking for someone to take care of you, say that, and she will, she doesnât need the context of kink to justify it)
Kyle Richards (I could see her liking it, but only as a sometimes sort of thing)
LeeAnne Locken (she could be into it under the right circumstances, she refers to herself as mommy with her dogs, so thereâs definitely potential, though not a big thing for her)
Lisa Rinna (she likes it in more of a teasing way, like just to sort of get you riled up)
Ramona Singer (she might think itâs cute, maybe even a little sexy, but sheâd only indulge in it in moderation)
Sonja Morgan (I can see her liking it if you like it, itâs something fun and sexy to tease you with, but itâs not one of her favorites)
Hard No:
Camille Grammer (she doesnât mind the concept of a mommy role, but would absolutely get the ick at the usage of the word in the bedroom)
Carole Radziwill (she has no kids of her own, so a mommy role feels off to her, and sheâd probably still think itâs weird if she was a mom)
DâAndra Simmons (sheâs got her own mommy issues, so sheâll be avoiding this one as a rule)
Denise Richards (really just doesnât do it for her, would totally take her out of the moment)
Dorinda Medley (she doesnât mind taking care of someone, but thereâs a certain level of maturity she expects, and having a mommy kink doesnât work for her)
Gretchen Rossi (it kinda makes her feel old and uncomfortable, so itâs not going to be for her)
Lisa Vanderpump (would absolutely ridicule you if you ever called her mommy)
LuAnn De Lesseps (while she most definitely loves to take on a dominant role, âMommyâ is simply not for her, it feels too strange)
Sutton Brown (itâs really just not for her, would be a major turn off, thatâs not really her type of role)
Summary: Youâre distracted at the end of a long day and Olivia pulls you into her office to do something about it.
Word Count: 1,005
Tags: Secret relationship, kissing, praise, almost getting caught, suggestive
Youâd been staring at the same case file for forty minutes, the words blurring together until they meant nothing. It wasn't even the case you were focusing on anymore.
Olivia Benson stood across the room, hip leaned against Finâs desk, arms crossed over her chest as she listened to him relay something about a witness statement. Her hair was pulled back, a few loose strands framing her face, and the sleeves of her blouse were rolled to her elbows.
She didnât look at you. She never did, not when other people were around. That was the rule. The unspoken, necessary rule that youâd both agreed to six months ago after a late night stakeout ended with her hand on your thigh and your mouth on her neck in the back of an unmarked sedan.
âDetective.â Her voice cut through the drone of the precinct, and your spine straightened before your brain caught up.
âYes, Captain?â
âMy office. Now.â
Fin looked from Olivia to you, following her gaze. Heat crawled up your neck. You could feel the weight of his attention like a spotlight. You gathered the case file, tucked your pen behind your ear, and crossed the squad room with as much professional composure as you could muster. Olivia had already disappeared into her office by the time you reached the door.
You stepped inside. Closed the door behind you. The blinds were already turned down. âLock it,â she said. The click of the lock sounded louder than it should have.
âYouâre distracted.â You opened your mouth to protest, but she stopped you. âI can always tell.â
She could. That was the problem. Six months of stolen moments and whispered phone calls and Olivia had learned to read you, every tell, every hesitation. There was nothing you could get past her.
âItâs nothing,â you said, though the words came out weaker than you intended.
âMhm.â Her hand lifted, fingers brushing a strand of hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear with a tenderness that made your chest ache. âYou know what I think?â
âWhat?â
âI think,â she murmured, her thumb tracing the line of your jaw, âyouâve been thinking about last night.â
Last night. Her apartment. The way sheâd pressed you against the kitchen counter, one hand gripping your hip while the other tilted your chin up, her mouth hot and demanding against yours. The sound sheâd made when your fingers found the hem of her shirt, sliding beneath the fabric to trace the warm skin of her stomach. The way sheâd whispered your nameâyeah, you might have been thinking about that.
âMaybe,â you managed, though you couldnât meet her eyes or sheâd know instantly.
âEyes on me at all times, sweetheart.â
You obeyed, not wanting to see the disappointed pout on her face if you didnât.
âYouâre such a good girl.â
The words were said with her eyes locked on yours. The praise landed somewhere low in your belly, the way it always did when it came to Olivia. Then she kissed you.
It wasnât rushed. That was the thing about Olivia, she never rushed when she had you alone. Her mouth moved against yours, one hand held the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair, while the other settled on your waist, thumb tracing small circles against the fabric of your blouse. You leaned into her, your own hands finding her hips, pulling her closer until there was no space left between you.
She made a sound against your mouth and the vibration of it traveled through you like electricity.
âLiv,â you breathed, and she pulled back just enough to look at you, her forehead resting against yours.
âI know.â Her voice was rough now, the composure cracking around the edges. âI know. But I neededââ
A knock at the door interrupted her. You sprang apart, your heart hammering against your ribs as you smoothed down your blouse, ran a hand through your hair. Olivia moved swiftly to the door, unlocking it and was behind her desk in two quick strides.
âCome in,â she called, and her voice was steady. Perfectly, infuriatingly steady.
Fin opened the door, stepping inside with a file in his hand. His gaze swept the room, noticing you standing a little too stiffly near the window, then to Olivia, seated behind her desk with her reading glasses now perched on her nose.
âEverything good in here?â
âFine,â Olivia said, not looking up from the folder. âJust going over some case notes.â
âRight.â He didnât sound convinced. His eyes landed on you, and you saw the exact moment he registered your slightly swollen lips, the faint flush still lingering on your cheeks. âYou okay there, Detective? Looking a littleââ
âSheâs fine,â Olivia cut in, her tone clipped. âWas there something you needed?â
Fin held up the file. âGot an update on the Morrison case. Thought youâd want to see it.â
âLeave it on the desk.â
He did, but he didnât leave. Instead, he stood there for a long moment, looking between the two of you with an expression that was far too knowing.
âIâm begging you two to get a room.â
You froze. Oliviaâs head snapped up, and she glared at him from over the frame of her glasses. âExcuse me?â
âA room,â Fin repeated. âOne thatâs not your office. Just a suggestion.â He shrugged, utterly unrepentant. âIâm headed out for the night.â
âSergeant Tutuolaââ
The door clicked shut. Silence. You stared at the closed door. Then at Olivia. She pinched the bridge of her nose, pushing her glasses up into her hair. But when she looked at you again, the irritation in her eyes was already softening, replaced by something that made your pulse quicken all over again. She moved slowly, until she was standing right in front of you. âWith him out of the way, it looks like weâre the last two in the office.â
Your throat went dry. âLivââ
âI think we can pick up where we left off, donât you?â
Summary: When the love of her life disappears without a trace, Elsa spends years searching for answers. As time passes and her dreams of stardom finally come true, she begins to wonder if any of it was worth it without you.
Word Count: 2,000
Tags: Angst, reader death (not graphic), some moments of fluff
The first time you saw Pepper, her wide eyes were fixed on a butterfly that had landed on the sleeve of her dress. Elsa had been talking to someone else at the time, negotiating and persuading with that effortless confidence. Yet halfway through her sentence, she trailed off. She followed your gaze and found herself looking at the strange girl standing alone near the flowers.
Pepper smiled. It was such an open, uncomplicated expression that something in your chest softened instantly. Elsa glanced at you. You glanced at Elsa. Neither of you needed words.
That evening, Pepper sat between the two of you on the ride back to the grounds. From that day forward, she became yours.
The freak show was little more than a dream in those days. The tents were worn. Money was scarce. Yet despite the uncertainty, you were happy. The three of you were creating something that felt like a family.
Pepper helped you hang costumes out to dry. She followed you around the grounds while you worked. Elsa sang her songs she could never quite remember, but always enjoyed. On quiet evenings, all three of you squeezed together around a tiny table inside the main tent, sharing whatever meal you could afford that week.
For Elsa, it meant more than she ever admitted. The world would come to know Elsa Mars as ambitious and larger than life. You knew the woman beneath all of that. The woman who feared failure more than anything, and who desperately wanted to be loved though she was never entirely convinced she deserved it. You loved her anyway. Perhaps because of those flaws rather than despite them.
One night, long after everyone else had gone to sleep, Elsa rested beside you beneath a thin blanket in the trailer you shared. âYou believe in me, donât you,â she asked quietly. By then, your family of freaks had expanded. There was a real show now, and Elsa took pride in all of her monsters.
You turned toward her. The vulnerability in her voice always caught you off guard. It seemed impossible that someone as bold as Elsa could sound so uncertain. You brushed a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. âAlways.â
The smile that followed was one audiences never got to see. It belonged only to you. Years later, after everything that happened, that smile would remain one of your last memories.
The day you disappeared began like any other. You kissed Elsa goodbye before your venture into town for supplies. Pepper hugged you twice because once was never enough. Then you climbed into the truck and headed toward town to collect food, medicine, fabric, and a dozen other little necessities required to keep your makeshift family running. Nothing felt unusual or significant.
If you had known what waited for you, perhaps you would have stayed a little longer that morning. Perhaps you would have kissed Elsa again. Perhaps you would have hugged Pepper tighter. Instead, you left with every expectation of returning before lunch.
You never made it back.
At first, Elsa wasnât worried. You were late occasionally. A flat tire wasnât unheard of. Occasionally the townspeople were hostile and you had to go to the next town over. Sometimes errands simply took longer than expected. But when afternoon became evening and evening became night, concern settled heavily in her stomach. By midnight, she could barely sit still and before dawn, she began searching.
She drove into town herself, stopping at every little store and shop. She questioned the shopkeepers, their customers, strangers on the street. Anyone who might have seen you. Nobody had. The following day she found the truck abandoned just outside town. The supplies were still inside, but you werenât.
Something broke inside her then. The days that followed became a blur of desperate searching. Elsa combed through every road, every field, every ditch she could find. She questioned anyone willing to speak to her and plenty who werenât. She spent money she couldnât afford chasing rumors that led nowhere.
When the local authorities stopped caring, Elsa kept looking. People advised her to move on, but Elsa ignored them. Pepper became distraught. Elsa always soothed her and promised youâd be home soon. And thatâs why she always stayed in Jupiter. In hopes that one day youâd come back. She wanted to be there waiting for when you did.
When weeks became months, she still refused to give up because giving up meant accepting the possibility that you werenât coming home and Elsa had never been particularly good at accepting things she didnât want to hear.
One evening, Pepper climbed into Elsaâs lap inside the trailer. Elsa hadnât slept properly in days. Her eyes were red. Her hands trembled.
Pepper touched her cheek. Elsa wrapped her arms around Pepper and cried harder than she had since childhood. Because you were gone and she couldnât find you. For the first time in her life, determination wasnât enough to fix what was broken.
The years passed. The show grew. New performers arrived one after another. Elsa welcomed them all, but a part of her always remained searching for you. Maybe fate would finally return to her what it had stolen. It never did.
Over time, the search transformed into an obsession. She made herself a promise out of desperation, a bargain. If she made the show successful enough, you would return. If she became famous, you would hear about it and come back. If she reached the heights sheâd always dreamed of, somehow, some way, you would find your way back to her.
So Elsa chased success with everything she had. Every standing ovation, newspaper headline and scrap of recognition drove her forward. Her hope renewed, in a sense, but none of it was ever enough to fill the empty space youâd left behind. Even during her greatest triumphs, she found herself glancing toward doorways and entrances, imagining your face appearing in the crowd.
Years later, when fame finally arrived, Elsa stood before adoring audiences and received everything she had once believed she wanted. Yet every achievement felt strangely hollow because the one person she wanted beside her wasnât there to see it.
Then, eventually, it was too much to bear anymore. Nothing she had done had given her answers. So she prepared for one final performance. Halloween. She knew what would come after.
Elsa expected darkness, maybe nothingness. She just needed an end to it all. She probably had some more good years left, but what were they without you, without her monsters? Everyone who hadnât been killed by that miserable psycho had dispersed elsewhere. Pepper dropped off at an asylum, the most painful of her goodbyes aside from you.
But instead of the darkness, she found herself standing beneath a familiar canvas. Warm light spilled across the tent, lanterns lighting as if by magic until the whole place was illuminated. Music drifted through the air. Laughter echoed in the distance.
Her eyes adjusted. It was home. Jupiter. The place where she had once been happiest. What cruel twist of fate was this?
A voice spoke behind her. âIâve been waiting for you.â
Elsa froze. For a moment she couldnât breathe. Couldnât think. Couldnât move. Because she knew that voice. She had spent years dreaming about it, searching for it, and worst of all, mourning it.
When she turned, there you were. You hadnât aged. You were just how she remembered you. For several seconds neither of you moved. Elsa looked terrified. She wasnât sure if she could trust that you were real. Mostly, she feared losing you again, real or not.
âYou left me.â The words emerged broken and raw. It was the sound of heartbreak. Years and years of it.
You went to her and wrapped your arms around her immediately. âI didnât want to,â you told her.
âI looked for you.â
âI know.â
âI searched everywhere.â
Your own eyes burned. For years you had watched helplessly. Somehow, from wherever souls waited, you had seen her searching. Seen her grieving. Seen her refusing to let go. If there had been any way to reach her, you would have.
âThere wasnât a day,â Elsa whispered, ânot one day I stopped looking.â
You cupped her face gently, knowing exactly the words she needed to hear. âI never stopped loving you.â
That finally shattered the last of her defenses. She cried openly, years of grief pouring from her all at once. Eventually, when she had calmed enough to speak, she asked the question that had haunted her for all this time.
âWhat happened?â
You led her to a nearby bench and sat together beneath the glow of lantern light. âI had just made my last stop,â you said quietly. âThere was a man whoâd been watching me.â Elsaâs hand tightened around yours. âI didnât realize.â
Understanding slowly appeared in her expression. You swallowed. âHeâd been following me long before that, or so he told me.â
The memory no longer hurt the way it once had. Time had dulled the terror, leaving only sadness behind. âHe took me before I could get back to the truck and come home.â Elsa closed her eyes. âI fought,â you added, a faint smile touching your lips. âYou wouldâve been proud.â
âI already was.â
Tears slipped down your cheeks. Time to end this tale. âI tried everything I could, but he was strong, Elsa. And the more I talked about you and Pepper the angrier he got. HeâŠhe killed me.â
The words settled softly between you. Elsa sat silently for a long moment. Then she asked the question that mattered most.
âYou didnât leave?â
âNo. You know I wouldnât. I spent my last moment wishing I had never left that morning.â
Her shoulders sagged. Years of guilt seemed to drain from her all at once. âI thought maybe you got tired of our life.â
âNever.â
âI thought maybe you found someone else.â
A laugh escaped you despite the tears in your eyes. âElsa.â The look you gave her made her smile for the first time since arriving. âI only ever wanted you.â
For the first time in forever, true peace settled across her features. You kissed her forehead gently, just as you had countless times before. âGod, how I missed you.â Then your gaze lifted toward the distance. âThereâs someone else who missed you too.â
She followed your line of sight and a familiar figure came racing toward the two of you. Pepper. The instant she recognized Elsa, her face lit up with pure joy. She barely had time to stand before Pepper launched herself into her arms.
Elsa held her tightly while she hugged her with all the enthusiasm sheâd ever possessed. Then she hugged you. Then both of you at once. Some things never changed.
The three of you began walking together through the grounds. Past the same old tents and longtime friends who had gone before you. Elsa kept her arm linked through yours the entire time. It was no longer because she feared losing you. After all those years apart, she simply wanted to be close. So did you.
Ahead of you, Pepper danced to the music that played over the record player. Elsa rested her head briefly against your shoulder. For so much of her life, she had chased fame believing it would finally make her happy. She had spent years reaching for applause, for recognition, for her impossible dreams that despite everything sheâd been able to make a reality. But none of those things had ever been what she truly needed.
As the lights of the carnival glowed around you and the people she loved surrounded her once more, Elsa finally understood that. Success had never been the answer. Her home, her love, and her family had all been what truly mattered. And after a lifetime spent searching, she had finally found her way back to it. âWelcome home, Elsa,â you said as everyone gathered together. âWelcome home.â
i feel like shipping shouldnât be about which ship is morally or narratively or thematically âbetterâ but more about which one makes you want to throw up and write fics and jump about and make playlists and talk to people about it like the need to scream into a pillow about a random rarepair is more valuable to me than thinking about if theyâve even met
This makes me so happy âŠ.like yesss get her to respond âŠâŠopera really got in the way of magic âŠ.now Iâll just go do a penguin walk to talk to the seaâŠ.
*pokes tumblr with a stick* have you guys seen Inganno ??? Like actually watched it and experienced it and forgot to read bc you were busy staring at the woman the screen experienced it ??? Bc I have and I am so glad I did ..hot damn !! Itâs so good
I was a non believer at first but itâs trueâŠMonica guerritore does kill you in the dms âŠshe just will appear like a ghost âŠand then you have to handle itâŠand yes maybe âŠ(not saying itâs me ) but maybe you freak out in your (potentially??) friends DMs bc what the hell do you say back âŠ.but âŠâŠthatâs what they get for telling you about Inganno âŠseriously..
Summary: You slip into Mirandaâs office for one of your usual visits, confident everything is under control, until it isnât.
Word Count: 1,093
Tags: Implied smut, fluff
The office was abuzz. Andy only picked up on it after an hour of overheard conversations where no one would directly tell her what was going on. A designer was coming. That much she was able to make out pretty quickly. Someone from Paris, to see Miranda. Andy didnât hear a name, or recognize it if she did, but apparently she was a big deal.
Everyone seemed to be on high alert, waiting for her arrival. The word âlunchâ kept being thrown around. She kept trying to ask any one of the thousand questions she had, but no one seemed to have time to answer them, if they even let her speak at all. Fine, so be it.
You were all too familiar with the routine. You were set up in the finest hotel âwhichever Miranda was least dissatisfied with at the momentâ then you arrived at Runway at precisely eleven oâclock the morning after you landed in New York, you took the elevator up to her floor and walked through and right into her office, where the two of you would blissfully be left alone for as long as she deemed fit.
Though youâd met her at Paris Fashion Week, it wasnât until three months later when she summoned you to New York that your arrangement with her had begun, and it was just that, an arrangement. Miranda didnât do relationships, but that was how you, and practically anyone else, would define what the two of you had. Regardless what it was, you came when she called every time.
And so it was this time as well. You were already in the elevator, on the way up, and the same feeling coursed through you just like it had every time before; thrill, anticipation and pride all rolled into one. Youâd ensnared the ice queen of the fashion world, and every time you saw her, you fell a little more in love.
As you weaved through the office to her door, you passed by Nigel, glasses perched low on his nose, scanning a rack of garments, though he didnât miss your entrance. âMiranda has already asked as to your whereabouts twice.â
âIâm on time,â you told him, and you both knew it to be true. You sighed. âAt least itâs good to know Iâm missed.â
Nigel hummed in agreement and you carried on, opening the door to Mirandaâs office and letting yourself in. Miranda didnât look up right away, but when she did, it was to look at the clock, as if hoping to catch you being late just to scold you.
âYouâre early,â she remarked, at last casting her gaze to you over the frames of her glasses.
âBeing on time is late. It was you who taught me that.â
The softest hint of a smile raised the corner of her lip and she stood. âCome here, darling. I have missed you.â
You loved the way Miranda broke her own rules for you. She let her voice soften, those professional walls of hers came down, and she embraced you with a warmth she wouldnât let be known outside of this space.
When she released you from her arms, she looked towards the door. âDoorâs locked,â she questioned.
âOf course it is,â you replied. It wasnât like you were new here.
âI didnât think I heard it click,â she argued.
âMiranda,â you breathed, like a quiet exasperation was escaping your lips.
âAlright,â she relented, her hand coming to your wrist, lingering just long enough to feel your pulse jump beneath her fingers. Then she pulled you towards the couch, the one sheâd had installed just for this purpose.
You undressed her carefully, knowing each piece of clothing had been meticulously selected for today, and no doubt all expensive brand names. Same applied to the black lace lingerie sheâd chosen this time. You were less careful with your own clothes, which were also nice, but not nearly as treasured as the pieces that made up Mirandaâs wardrobe.
The couch pulled out easily, allowing enough room for the both of you, and you disappeared with Miranda under the blanket that usually hung over the back. You fell into your usual pattern of worshipping Mirandaâs body like it may be the last time you get the chance to.
Your appointments were the only time Miranda didnât stick to her rigid schedule. You were her indulgence, and she would take as long as she pleased with you, and it was everyone elseâs problem to rearrange her schedule to accommodate it.
And as you lay together afterward, Miranda on her back, you with your arm draped over her, you realized this may be your favorite part. Her hair was slightly mussed, but she didnât move to fix it. Her lipstick would need to be reapplied, as it was smeared across your skin, but she was glorious like this.
âI could move here,â you said, not for the first time. âNew York is just as suitable for fashion as Paris.â
Mirandaâs eyes moved across your face. She appeared to be actually considering it this time. âYouâd uproot your life for me?â
âYouâre a part of my life. Iâd like for that part to be bigger. SoâŠyes, I would, if youâd have me.â
As you made your offer to her, the doorknob turned quietly, and the door creaked open, alerting you both but leaving you no time to save face as Andy slipped inside the office. âI know youâre expecting lunch, but you didnât place an order,â Andy was saying,
âI thought you said the door was locked,â Miranda hissed, before Andy had turned around.
âI thought it was.â
âMiranda? Oh my god!â Andy shielded her eyes and turned around, cracking her shin into one of the chairs by Mirandaâs desk. You had to bite your lip to keep from laughing.
âOut, Andrea,â Miranda ordered.
âYes, sorry. Iâm going, Iâm going.â She nearly tripped on the way out and you buried your head in Mirandaâs shoulder to stifle your giggle.
âIâm going to fire that girl.â
âDonât,â you urged. âPoor thing was a deer in headlights. Clearly no one told her about our standing lunch dates.â You kissed Mirandaâs cheek in attempt to diffuse her outrage. It didnât completely quell it, but it would have to do for now. âNow, about what I said.â
âVery well. It wouldnât hurt to have you a little closer when the urge strikes.â
âHow gracious of you,â you teased. Then, on a more serious note, âIâll start planning the moment I get back.â
Melissa wonât immediately jump into causing a big scene, but when she sees someone getting too friendly with her partner, her eyes narrow, and she shoots a cold, warning glare from across the room. Itâs enough to send a message without saying a word.
If thatâs not enough, sheâll slide into the conversation casually but with an edge, placing her hand possessively on your back or shoulder, subtly reminding everyone who you belong to. Her tone gets just a bit sharper, though sheâll pass it off with a smile.
If thatâs still not enough to deter them, Melissa would start doing little things to mark her territory, like calling you âbabeâ or âhoneyâ in public more than usual, just to let the other person know where the lines are drawn.
Sheâll make a playful joke at the expense of the person sheâs jealous of, something like, âDidnât know we were hiring a flirt for the school!â But you know her well enough to catch the seriousness behind it.
Though if you ask if sheâs jealous, Melissa will deny it with a shrug. âJealous? Pfft, please. I donât get jealous.â But inside, sheâs keeping mental tabs on everything that happened, maybe even giving you the third degree later.
Sheâll tease you later, saying something like, âYou seem to have a lot of âfansâ lately, huh? Maybe I should start handing out autographs.â Though sheâs half joking, thereâs an underlying challenge in her voice.
Jealousy makes Melissa more affectionate in small, sneaky ways. Sheâll brush your hair back, kiss you on the cheek more frequently, or send you a flirty text while youâre out to remind you where your attention should be.
If all else fails, a scene will be made. Sheâs not afraid to, she simply didnât want to have to resort to violence. But if someone is not backing off of you, she will undoubtedly make them wish they had.
After the big scene unfolds, Melissa will eventually have a conversation with you about it, but itâll be framed as her being concerned about the intentions of the person sheâs jealous of. Sheâs not possessive, sheâs just looking out for you. Okay, and maybe sheâs just a little possessive too, but thatâs one of the things you enjoy about her.
Raising Guinea Pigs With Melissa Schemmenti Would Include
After bonding with Sweet Cheeks, you canât resist getting Melissa another guinea pig.
Sheâs thrilled, and even more so when they start their own little guinea pig family.
Melissa names each of the babies after famous criminals, thereâs a âBonnie,â a âClyde,â and a âCapone.â
She refers to them as âher babiesâ and talks to them like theyâre legitimately her children.
If she catches you smiling at her while doing it, sheâll pretend youâre the crazy one.
She built a custom guinea pig enclosure out of an old file cabinet and some chicken wire, complete with tunnels and hideouts with a little bit of help from you.
Melissa secretly lets them nibble on prosciutto and mozzarella scraps, swearing âjust a little taste wonât kill âem.â
Her classroom kids are not allowed to touch them unless theyâve âearned their stripes.â
She insists guinea pigs are âlow-maintenance but high character,â and theyâre great judges of people.
One of them bit a repair guy once, Melissa took that as a sign to never trust him again. You agreed.
She knits them tiny blankets during school meetings and calls it âstress management.â
Summary: Elsa finds you at the same time she acquires Pepper for her troupe, yet you become more valuable to her than she could have imagined.
Word Count: 1,058
Tags: Suggestive (implied smut), some found family dynamics, possessive Elsa
Elsa Mars had not gone to the orphanage with the intention of finding two things worth saving. Only one.
Pepper had been pointed out to her with a gloved finger and a look of barely disguised disgust, as though she were a stain that refused to be scrubbed away. Eighteen years old, they said, as if that somehow made her more tolerable. Old enough to be someone elseâs problem now.
Elsa had crouched in front of her, heels sinking into the scuffed linoleum, diamonds at her ears catching the weak overhead light. She had spoken softly, coaxingly. Pepper had smiled at her with such immediate, uncomplicated joy that Elsa feltâbrieflyâsomething twist behind her ribs. Yes. This one would do beautifully.
What Elsa had not expected was you. You had been in the kitchen when she heard them shouting at you. Not the sharp, clipped cruelty reserved for the children, but something colder. More disappointed.
âYou donât react,â the matron snapped. âNot to praise, not to punishment. Itâs unsettling. Honestly, sometimes I wonder if thereâs something wrong with you.â
Elsa paused in the hallway. She heard no response from you. Just the steady sound of chopping, as though you were slicing vegetables and not absorbing yet another small humiliation. Curious, Elsa drifted closer.
You stood at the counter in a plain dress, sleeves rolled, hands deft and sure. Your face was calm to the point of blankness, not vacant, Elsa realized, but contained. As if everything you felt had been folded neatly away, kept for private use only.
âDo you even care,â the matron demanded of you.
You lifted your eyes then and met hers, only very briefly crossing over Elsa some distance behind her.
âI care about doing my job well,â you said evenly. You offered no apology and your voice held no tremor to it. Elsa smiled. By the time she left the orphanage, Pepper clutched her hand with fierce devotion, and you stood beside her, shoulders squared and carrying a small suitcase. The matron did not protest your departure. If anything, she looked relieved.
âYouâre an adult,â Elsa had said lightly, appraising you. âIn your twenties, yes?â
You nodded.
âAnd you cook.â
âYes.â
âAnd youâreâŠadaptable.â
âVery.â
Elsa liked that you hadnât begged. She liked that you hadnât thanked her, either.
The camp grew quickly after that. You did not ask questions when more people arrived, when Elsa brought home bodies the world had rejected and named them family. You simply fed them. Learned preferences. Remembered who needed their meat cut small, who liked extra sugar in their coffee, who needed to be reminded gently to eat at all.
Pepper followed you everywhere, your shadow, your helper. You sometimes sang quietly while you worked and Pepper would occasionally try to hum along. At night, you made sure she was tucked in, even when Elsa was too busy or tired and forgot. And Elsa noticed.
She noticed the way the others softened around you. How tension drained from the tents when you passed through. Even the most discerning and untrusting of the freakshow warmed to you.
Elsa told herself she was pleased. A nurturing presence was useful, stabilizing. A circus needed order as much as spectacle. Still, there were moments. Moments when she watched you from the doorway of her tent as you mended costumes by lamplight. The glow caught your profile, your lashes lowered in concentration. Moments when your hands brushed hers in passing and you didnât flinch, didnât rush away, either.
You looked at Elsa differently than the others did, and so she began inventing reasons to summon you. A meal prepared just so. A dress altered. A glass refilled. And each time, you came without comment, fulfilling her every need no matter how minor. She wondered how far that intrinsic need to please went.
One evening, after the others had gone quiet, Elsa poured you a drink. âYouâve made yourself indispensable,â she said.
You accepted the glass. âI only ever wanted to be useful.â
Elsaâs smile sharpened. âCareful, liebchen. I may just keep you for good.â
You held her gaze over the rim of the glass. âI wouldnât mind staying.â
The air shifted. Elsa set her own drink aside and stepped closer, slow, deliberate. She reached out to tilt your chin up with a single finger. âHow would you like to be more?â
You swallowed. Once a pillar of reservation, your time with the troupe âwith Elsaâ had eased you out of your shell. Yet still you fought your desire for her not to show on your face. âMore,â you inquired.
âYou understand,â she said softly, âthat I donât share whatâs mine.â
âI donât want to be shared,â you replied.
âYou will retain your position among my troupe, but when I call for you, you will come. Is that understood?â
âYes,â you confirmed.
That was when Elsa kissed you. It was a claiming press of mouth to mouth, testing, teaching. You responded instinctively, hands still at your sides, waitingâlisteningâfor permission. Elsa drew back, eyes dark with satisfaction.
âHmm,â she hummed, satisfied. âYou will do very nicely.â
From then on, you belonged to the circus in a different capacity. You still cooked, still cared, still soothed nightmares and wiped blood from split knuckles. Elsa allowed it, encouraged it, even. She liked seeing you move among her monsters like a quiet constant, a gravity they all leaned toward. But at night, when Elsa called for you, you went without question, and the camp all knew well enough what you had truly become.
She taught you how she liked to be touched, she guided your hands, corrected your hesitation with a sharp word or a softer one, depending on her mood. She praised you sparingly, but when she did, it burned brighter than anything else.
You learned quickly. You learned to kneel when she looked at you in a certain way. You learned when to wait, how to anticipate her needs and to exist in those moments solely for her pleasure and approval. And you loved her for it.
If anyone else noticed the way Elsaâs arm curled possessively around your waist, the way her gaze hardened when someone lingered too long near you, they learned not to comment, because Elsa Mars was generous, but she was not forgiving. And you were hers. Entirely.
Summary: Elsa finds you at the same time she acquires Pepper for her troupe, yet you become more valuable to her than she could have imagined.
Word Count: 1,058
Tags: Suggestive (implied smut), some found family dynamics, possessive Elsa
Elsa Mars had not gone to the orphanage with the intention of finding two things worth saving. Only one.
Pepper had been pointed out to her with a gloved finger and a look of barely disguised disgust, as though she were a stain that refused to be scrubbed away. Eighteen years old, they said, as if that somehow made her more tolerable. Old enough to be someone elseâs problem now.
Elsa had crouched in front of her, heels sinking into the scuffed linoleum, diamonds at her ears catching the weak overhead light. She had spoken softly, coaxingly. Pepper had smiled at her with such immediate, uncomplicated joy that Elsa feltâbrieflyâsomething twist behind her ribs. Yes. This one would do beautifully.
What Elsa had not expected was you. You had been in the kitchen when she heard them shouting at you. Not the sharp, clipped cruelty reserved for the children, but something colder. More disappointed.
âYou donât react,â the matron snapped. âNot to praise, not to punishment. Itâs unsettling. Honestly, sometimes I wonder if thereâs something wrong with you.â
Elsa paused in the hallway. She heard no response from you. Just the steady sound of chopping, as though you were slicing vegetables and not absorbing yet another small humiliation. Curious, Elsa drifted closer.
You stood at the counter in a plain dress, sleeves rolled, hands deft and sure. Your face was calm to the point of blankness, not vacant, Elsa realized, but contained. As if everything you felt had been folded neatly away, kept for private use only.
âDo you even care,â the matron demanded of you.
You lifted your eyes then and met hers, only very briefly crossing over Elsa some distance behind her.
âI care about doing my job well,â you said evenly. You offered no apology and your voice held no tremor to it. Elsa smiled. By the time she left the orphanage, Pepper clutched her hand with fierce devotion, and you stood beside her, shoulders squared and carrying a small suitcase. The matron did not protest your departure. If anything, she looked relieved.
âYouâre an adult,â Elsa had said lightly, appraising you. âIn your twenties, yes?â
You nodded.
âAnd you cook.â
âYes.â
âAnd youâreâŠadaptable.â
âVery.â
Elsa liked that you hadnât begged. She liked that you hadnât thanked her, either.
The camp grew quickly after that. You did not ask questions when more people arrived, when Elsa brought home bodies the world had rejected and named them family. You simply fed them. Learned preferences. Remembered who needed their meat cut small, who liked extra sugar in their coffee, who needed to be reminded gently to eat at all.
Pepper followed you everywhere, your shadow, your helper. You sometimes sang quietly while you worked and Pepper would occasionally try to hum along. At night, you made sure she was tucked in, even when Elsa was too busy or tired and forgot. And Elsa noticed.
She noticed the way the others softened around you. How tension drained from the tents when you passed through. Even the most discerning and untrusting of the freakshow warmed to you.
Elsa told herself she was pleased. A nurturing presence was useful, stabilizing. A circus needed order as much as spectacle. Still, there were moments. Moments when she watched you from the doorway of her tent as you mended costumes by lamplight. The glow caught your profile, your lashes lowered in concentration. Moments when your hands brushed hers in passing and you didnât flinch, didnât rush away, either.
You looked at Elsa differently than the others did, and so she began inventing reasons to summon you. A meal prepared just so. A dress altered. A glass refilled. And each time, you came without comment, fulfilling her every need no matter how minor. She wondered how far that intrinsic need to please went.
One evening, after the others had gone quiet, Elsa poured you a drink. âYouâve made yourself indispensable,â she said.
You accepted the glass. âI only ever wanted to be useful.â
Elsaâs smile sharpened. âCareful, liebchen. I may just keep you for good.â
You held her gaze over the rim of the glass. âI wouldnât mind staying.â
The air shifted. Elsa set her own drink aside and stepped closer, slow, deliberate. She reached out to tilt your chin up with a single finger. âHow would you like to be more?â
You swallowed. Once a pillar of reservation, your time with the troupe âwith Elsaâ had eased you out of your shell. Yet still you fought your desire for her not to show on your face. âMore,â you inquired.
âYou understand,â she said softly, âthat I donât share whatâs mine.â
âI donât want to be shared,â you replied.
âYou will retain your position among my troupe, but when I call for you, you will come. Is that understood?â
âYes,â you confirmed.
That was when Elsa kissed you. It was a claiming press of mouth to mouth, testing, teaching. You responded instinctively, hands still at your sides, waitingâlisteningâfor permission. Elsa drew back, eyes dark with satisfaction.
âHmm,â she hummed, satisfied. âYou will do very nicely.â
From then on, you belonged to the circus in a different capacity. You still cooked, still cared, still soothed nightmares and wiped blood from split knuckles. Elsa allowed it, encouraged it, even. She liked seeing you move among her monsters like a quiet constant, a gravity they all leaned toward. But at night, when Elsa called for you, you went without question, and the camp all knew well enough what you had truly become.
She taught you how she liked to be touched, she guided your hands, corrected your hesitation with a sharp word or a softer one, depending on her mood. She praised you sparingly, but when she did, it burned brighter than anything else.
You learned quickly. You learned to kneel when she looked at you in a certain way. You learned when to wait, how to anticipate her needs and to exist in those moments solely for her pleasure and approval. And you loved her for it.
If anyone else noticed the way Elsaâs arm curled possessively around your waist, the way her gaze hardened when someone lingered too long near you, they learned not to comment, because Elsa Mars was generous, but she was not forgiving. And you were hers. Entirely.
