#The Quick Guide to Classroom Management

[richardtheteacher]

Richard James Rogers, award-winning author and pedagogical expert, describes the process of interleaving. Rogers is the first person ever to describe generalisable rules for applying interleaving in the secondary classroom.

[leafostuff]

One Heck of a Joyride[Ft. WooAh's Nana]

Word Count: 14-15K~ words

Collab with @octoberautumnbox

My Author's Notes: we are so excited to finally release this fic for yall, me and box have been working on this fic since the end of FEBRUARY (almost 3 months) and we have been working on it so hard to make it the best it can be so I really hope you will enjoy this fic

@octoberautumnbox's author notes: there u have it! took the better part of three months, but it was really fun to work on :DDDD Thanks to leafo for making sure i didn't slack LMAO

No tags since it is too long but this is fluff and smut

Thanks: of course @octoberautumnbox for working with me on this amazing collab. @4m1rz for being my lovely beta reader and @libraryoferos for being my motivation to not be lazy on this fic

And so without any further preface, let's get started, shall we?

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“And I expect you all to get along this year. Leave the past behind you as you all face a new future together.” Sporadic applause rises slowly from the crowd and dies down twice as quickly. The dean sighs away from the mic and drifts offstage, leaving everyone disinterested in the rest of the program. It all goes by in a blur, and finally ends right as the air conditioners start to fail against the heat of a summer not-yet-ended. 

Your attention is drawn away from the droning on and on from the stage and towards the many characters that populate the theater with you. You catch glimpses of people talking with their friends, a few crazy hair colours, and the occasional sleeping student who’s no doubt already saving up hours for the all-nighters to come. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice someone in the front row with both people sitting next to her conspicuously leaning away. They seem to want to get up and leave her there by herself, but the way she gives no reaction despite the jeering tone coming from her seatmates leads you to think that she’s asleep herself. 

~~~

“So yeah, That's the tour, bucko. Check the map if you’re ever lost.” Your student tour guide points at the multi-colored document on your phone. Vaguely you recall the various little symbols: which classrooms you can sleep in, which bathrooms are haunted, which shortcuts are best, all of the must-know basics of college life. 

As you continue scanning around the campus, the girl from the assembly catches your attention again. She has her hood up this time, but you can tell it’s her; her quick pacing and how she is not looking around at anyone making you believe that she’s trying her best to hide.

“What about that one? Do we not talk about her?” you ask, pointing at the oblivious figure walking past, drawing eyes and whispers much like your own. 

Your guide scoffs at the absurd idea. “That’s Nayeon. And no, we don’t. She fucked up last year, big time. Got a bunch of us in trouble. So stay away from her, she has those goody-two-shoes germs.” he says, walking away as while signaling you to follow him.

You wonder what she could have done to gain such a reputation. She was adorable earlier with her hood off, but the way people talk about her makes you want to steer clear against your own will. 

~-~-~-~

Curiosity ends up killing the cat, and you manage to gather bits and pieces of the incident from last year from gossip, class lore, and even the way some professors acted:

“She’s the luckiest bitch in the world with not a single shred of common sense. Seriously, who goes and rats on a hundred other students like that?”

“The test incident shows she only looks out for herself, even if it means bringing down the entire class.”

“There’s really no excuse for it. You have the answer key in your hand, of course you take a picture! You don’t just leave it where it’ll incriminate some other innocent loser and say you’re only trying to do the right fucking thing.”

The sheer number of factoids you gather from the wild bunch of sources only slightly make sense. Unfortunately, trying to piece them together only took up more space and brainpower which you should have used to study for your midterms coming up. Keep to yourself and you can just barely pass and move on; there is no time for college drama.

After the exam, you approach the professor to ask about possibly bumping up your grade. You decided to maybe half-ass an extra credit assignment and get the lowest passing score, but you resolve to just see where it goes. While lost in thought, you nearly bump into the small girl in front of you. already talking to the teacher, and by the way they’re whispering, it seems like it’s something serious. 

“I’m not sure what you’re trying to do here anymore, Miss Kwon,” the professor admits as he takes off his glasses and rubs his nose bridge. “None of this was necessary. I thought we wanted to leave all this behind us.”

Nayeon looks down to her toes in defeat. “I’m sorry, Sir. I was just thinking, maybe I’d get sent out of class this time.” Her voice cracks, giving away her vulnerable state: she’s near tears but trying to fight everything back to look tough. Sadly for her, you think, none of it is working.

“Look, just try to lay low. It’s your last year before all of this starts to not matter anymore.” Your professor finally puts his glasses back on and looks Nayeon straight in the eye. “Trust me, you’re better off keeping your head down. You’ll be fine.”

She walks despondently off to the right and out the door. Your feet choose to follow her, but a sudden jolt restores your common sense. “And you, Mister New Guy, what seems to be the problem? Beside your dismal score, that is.”

You have a slight feeling you are not getting a higher score.

~-~-~

After talking it out fruitlessly with the professor, he releases you from his classroom and you make your way out. The conversation with him didn’t take long, and so you arrive to a few jeers and muffled laughter once you step outside.

“Serves her right. Trying all this bullshit isn’t gonna change anything.” 

“Seriously, cheating on a test she obviously studied for? How dense could she be?”

“I bet she just wants to show us up. She’ll study and then cheat, then she gets perfect marks on the test and she’ll show us she’s untouchable again.” 

You find it hard to believe that Nayeon would resort to something as convoluted and pointless as that, but then again, you really don’t know her to make a judgment. Whatever she was thinking, you agree that it was idiotic to pull that sort of thing, even if you didn’t see any of it.

The weather on campus is the right mix of cloudy and sunny, with rays of light shining respectfully on the grass and pavement of your college courtyard. Something tells you that people-watching by the gym feels like the perfect lunchtime activity for a day like this, so you find your way to the properly noisy setting and look for a spot out of the way. 

You settle on a spot by the side of the gym with the perfect amount of shade and wind, but you’re instead drawn further back to the rear by strange and irregular noises. Turning the last corner, you’re met with a surprising figure.

It was Nayeon, sitting with her back against one of the walls, her entire body curled up like a ball. You slowly inch closer and closer to her, and you realize the strange noises that you heard before were instead sniffles and cries coming from the lonely girl. Finally as you get close enough, Nayeon feels your presence and raises her head.

Her eyes were full of tears, who knows for how long she had been crying, and you could feel the sadness coming from her eyes; they were trying to tell you something, however, it's hard to figure out what. Her expression of sadness didn't stay for long though as soon enough her expression turns angry when you get closer to her, squatting down to look at the girl from a closer angle.

“Please, go away. Leave me alone.” The small girl pushes you away, but with her hand preoccupied wiping away her tears, she can’t do much to get rid of you. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you? You have the nerve to do what you did last year and still show your face?” The anger in your voice catches you off guard. Since when did you take it personally when it came to her?

“Oh fuck off, new guy,” she taunts. “So I’m fucking hiding here, what more do you want?” She tries to act tough again, but it’s painfully apparent to both of you that it isn’t working. At this point, you really do just want to leave her alone. And just like every other time, nothing’s stopping you. So why are you staying?

You breathe a sigh of defeat at the situation you find yourself in. “Look, I don’t have any sort of beef with you personally, but come on. This is pathetic. You’re only embarrassing yourself by doing all this bullshit that isn’t like you at all.”

“And what if it’s not like me?!” Her shout sends a few birds hiding in nearby bushes to take off. This sort of language takes you aback from her; Little Miss Perfect Kwon Nayeon, top honour student, teacher’s favourite pet, hating herself? 

“I… I don’t like being me, and I don’t like what I am.” She wipes her tears again and tries (and fails) to look you in the eyes once more. “So if you’re another member of the ‘I hate Nayeon’ club, well… Better show the club president some respect.”

She sits back down with her back against the wall. Nayeon's eyes are wet for the last time before she wipes them off and faces her lack of tears.

Normally in situations like those you would just walk away and ignore people like those for the rest of the school year, but for some reason with Nayeon in front of you, showing herself being weak, fragile, and sad, something about her makes it so you can't leave the situation alone. Curiosity gets the best of you, and you have to know why.

“No,” you turn back to her as a determined expression is painted on your face.

“What?”

“I'm not leaving you alone until you tell me.” You stand your ground, arms crossed, and Nayeon can't seem to be any more pissed than before. “What is going on? What do you mean you don't like yourself?” you ask.

For a while, no one dares to speak another word, and you wonder if what you have here is an argument. For a good few seconds, she stares at you intently as silence hangs heavy in the air. 

“You think,” she says defeatedly between sniffles, “that I'm Little Miss Perfect, right? Like everyone calls me ‘the straight-A girl?’ Well I’m not, and I’m tired of everyone saying so.” She fishes out a very used handkerchief from her pocket and wipes her eyes of tears, only for them to be replaced by more. 

“It can’t be that bad, Nayeon. People look up to you, I’m sure.” You finally notice your alarms are blaring and you’re put on high alert. What you just said was the exact wrong thing to say, and you’re at critical risk of involving yourself in her messy situation more than you should.

She side-eyes you, calculating if you’re being sincere or not. She stuffs her handkerchief back into her pocket carelessly as if knowing that she’ll only pull it back out again soon. She looks down at her hands, deep in thought, looking like she’s trying to grapple with something she might regret. 

Once she’s done, she fumbles around in her backpack. She fishes out a tiny black notebook she seems to keep so well hidden, on the cover of the notebook the words ‘Nana’s Bucket List’ are scrawled in big, bold, immature-looking letters.

“Throughout all of my life, I always wanted to be the top student, the best of the best like no one ever was, and I succeeded, you know…” she scoffs. “Top marks in Elementary, Middle school, and Valedictorian in high school.” She sighs and tries to fight back more tears, though you notice she’s a bit more successful this time, with a bit of hope and yearning in her eyes.

"But on the other side… The other side seems so great. I mean, I see all these movies and books about college life," she says in between residual sobs and hiccups. She opens the notebook, showing you a not-so-long list, and even though it's hard to see the text from the small size of the writing, you can make out a little bit of what’s written on the paper.

Cheat on a test 

Get drunk

Party all night

Dye my hair

Sing in an Open stage show

Sneak into a Public pool

Shoplifting

You know...

Most of what you read makes zero sense, and you’re half-convinced this girl is just crazy. You stare at the scribbled letters, hoping to draw more meaning from them, but Nayeon shuts the little notebook in your face and starts putting it back away. 

"I want to do them all. Drinking, breaking glass bottles, partying, all that stuff," she explains dreamily. She zips up her bag and pats it down, making sure it’s secure beside her, and turns her attention back to you, “I want to live like a normal girl, you know what I mean?” she asks, you are not sure if its because of the tears, but her eyes seem to glitter.

"That's very cliche, Nana," you jab at her, making fun of the nickname she gave herself.

"That's all I know, though. Please." She takes your hand in between hers and looks up at you, teary-eyed and seemingly begging for her life.”This wouldn’t kill you, all I’m asking for is some help crossing stuff off of the list.”

You hate how well it works on you: her big, round eyes, her adorable little pout, her cute pleading voice. It goes against everything you know, and even now you’re sure you don’t want to get involved in whatever this would turn out to be. And yet, despite even the most deeply ingrained lessons you’ve learned for yourself, all it takes is a brief moment for it to come crashing down.

With a disbelieving sigh and a sense of regret creeping in, you ask: “What’s in it for me?”

~-~-~-~

You take a bite of your burger and breathe out. Cheap bun, dubious patty, artificial cheese, it all takes you back to a past life. You're left to momentarily wonder how you ended up where you are now, and slowly it comes back to you. You messed up.

"So, about the list." Nayeon sets down her cup, ice cubes clinking against each other as they swirl around her soda. "I already did one. So that’s one less thing for us to do”.

"I can do that much math, Nayeon. What do you take me for?" You chomp down on a few fries grumpily. 

"I didn't mean it like that. All I'm saying is there are just a few more months left until graduation, so we'll need to be quick. We can’t be lazy about this." She pulls out the little black notebook and flips to an unfamiliar page. The words "cheat on a test" has doodles of a devil's horns and wings and tail around it, with lots of eyes and ears decorating the rest of the ruled paper. Above it, the poster you recognize from the movie "Bad Genius" is copied, albeit crudely, in a thought bubble.

"I did this one last year, don't ask. Anyway, this next one should be easy enough." She flips to the next page, showing a couple pictures of beer cups and wine bottles, surrounding the words “Get Drunk.”

“Wait, is this the ‘incident’ people hate you for? What even happened there?” You eat more of your fries, trying to hide your curiosity. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work and she nips the conversation in the bud.

“That’s not anything you need to know. What matters is now and the future. Now are you with me or not?” She snaps the notebook closed and yanks it away from your sight, back into the pocket she keeps it in. 

“I can’t help if I don’t know what exactly your deal is,” you say disappointedly. You pick up your own drink and take a sip, and the cool soda washes over your tongue and throat on the way down. “You’re making this harder than it needs to be with everything that’s going on.”

For a moment, you catch Nayeon’s gaze on you, dumbfounded. You could almost hear the gears in her head turning as she tries to process your logic, but it takes a while. As she thinks, though, you take a particular interest in how she handles it: her mouth is hanging slightly ajar and her eyes are only half-focused on wherever they’re pointed. You notice how delicately her bangs fall on her forehead, how her eyebrows furrow and crease, how she tries finding the right words yet can’t find the message she wants to send. Odd things to notice, surely, and yet here you are. You messed up.

It starts coming back to you. The jeers from your classmates as you walk down the hall grow louder in your ears, and you fight against your hands trying to cover them with the knowledge that none of it is real anymore. The tears you fight back all the time surface for another rematch, but with your current state, you may be at a disadvantage. 

Fortunately, she shocks you back into reality. “Hey, are you listening? I’m feeding you, so the least you could do is pay attention.” She bites a small chunk of her burger and chews, and you notice how her cheeks puff slightly and the corner of her mouth is decorated with a dollop of mustard. 

Cute.

1 + 2. Get drunk + Party All Night

“God, this is stupid,” you think to yourself, exiting the convenience store. With a plastic bag in your right hand and your phone in your left hand, checking the time and the address Nayeon sent you earlier today. Finding it was easier than you expected, and you tried not to let the walk to her dorm set any expectations for you.

You bring your knuckles to the wooden door and make three quick raps. It swings open very quickly and you’re dragged into the cozy space without even the slightest chance to take off your shoes. 

“You took forever! Did you bring the stuff?” She looks all over you and pats you down, looking for what you brought her. 

“Get off, will you? I put them all in my bag like a normal person.” You swing your backpack off your shoulder and carefully place it onto a nearby table. Nayeon takes a seat and waits excitedly for what you brought for the two of you. From your bag, you produce three bottles of soju, three five-packs of Yakult, six cans of beer, and four bags of chips. She eyes each item with absolute interest as they leave your backpack, and she hardly contains herself once you finish and zip up your bag once more. 

“Okay, so how does this work?” Her eyes sparkle with wonder, and while waiting for your instructions, it was clear that as much as she was excited, she was also inexperienced.

“First off, get us some shot glasses and a pitcher. Oh, and a can opener.” Nayeon bolts off to the cooking area, and you can hear drawers opening and shutting loudly. You start getting concerned when you hear plates start to clatter against each other, but thankfully it dies down quickly and she returns with two small glasses, a decently sized pitcher, and a can opener. 

“Shit. I meant bottle. Bottle opener.” Without even a hint of annoyance, she rushes back off into the kitchen and, after a few more rummaging sounds, she returns with the correct item. She really must not know what she’s doing.

“Come on, show me!” She shoves the bottle opener into your hand, and you’re left with no choice. 

“Don’t you have a roommate we have to worry about?” You pop the cap off one of the soju bottles and then tear the aluminum top off two bottles of Yakult. “She’s out with her own friends. Hurry!” Despite her starting to get on your nerves, you pour all three into the pitcher and swirl them around together. Once you’re done, you pour the mixture into each of the glasses until they’re full. 

“Bottoms up, Nayeon.” 

“Bottoms up!”

The both of you down your drinks: yours slowly crawls down your throat, but hers disappears straight into her stomach. She reels at the burning lines left by the alcohol all over her esophagus and takes a bit of time to recover. 

“Whoa, that was,” she says, and a burp erupts from her mouth, “intense.” She sways a little bit to the left before righting herself, and then overcompensates to lean to the left again. 

“Easy there, champ. We’ve got two more bottles to go through.” You pour another shot for each of you, hers first and then yours, and raise your glass once more.

“Open the chips now,” you tell her. “This’ll be less dreadful with food.” 

Both of you down your shots at the same time, and Nayeon reels at the sensation once more. 

“Does that get easier?” Her speech is slowly starting to slur, the poor thing. “I’m kinda feeling a little something right now, too…”

“Yes, but only if you keep going at it, idiot. Don’t down everything so quickly.” Grab one of the bags of chips yourself, open and present it to Nayeon on the center of the table.

“Eat. You’ll hate this less.” You take a handful of chips and bring all of them into your mouth. Once you do, you raise your eyebrow at her to tell her to do the same.

“Isn’t… *hic* being hungry the thing for… faster drunk?” 

“Apparently so, Nayeon. I don’t even know what I expected from you.” You take another shot, alone this time. She tries to pour her own shot, but fails miserably at getting the liquid anywhere near the inside of her shot glass. It’s adorable how she tries, though.

You pour her another shot despite a small voice telling you maybe she isn’t cut out for this much in such a short time. You shove the voice aside in favor of Nayeon’s own words: “We pregame, drink a little, and then we go. Party starts at 7:30, so we leave here by 7 o’clock.” Her shot glass fills with the drink, and you place it in front of her, making sure at least to keep an eye out for what might happen next. 

She successfully picks up the glass and, sans the spills she made on the glass's way from the table to her mouth, drinks everything she could. She slams the glass onto the table in no light movement and you have a slight inkling of regret at letting her do that to herself. 

“You… We have to… Fuck.” Nayeon’s head droops and she catches her face with her hands. She may have underestimated how strong soju is, or maybe what being drunk actually does to a person. A groan emanates from behind her palms, and you notice she’s having trouble holding herself up. 

“Aren’t we going out after this? You might wanna slow down, idiot.” You pour yourself another shot and drink it leisurely. Nayeon tries leaning back onto the chair, and she finally pries her hands away from her eyes. She does a few quick blinks, and she tries to focus her sight on you. Her head sways a little bit, and it dawns on you that you may have overestimated her. 

“I’m okay… just… we have to go.” She tries to stand up, but she wobbles dangerously and you have to catch her. Dive under her and take on her weight, thankfully not too heavy, and keep her from hitting the floor. She mumbles a bit about something you can only kind of understand, but it's enough to guide your next decision.

“Forget it,” you grunt as you plop her back into her chair, “we're not going anywhere.” An exasperated sigh leaves your lungs, and you head off to the kitchen to return with a large bottle of cold water.

“No… we have to go. We'll be late.” Nayeon tries to get up again, but there's no strength left in her body. She sits motionlessly, probably thinking that she's already stood up, and it gives way to a confused look on her face as to why she's still in the same place.

You fill a proper-sized glass with water and hand it to her, which she drinks obediently. You fill her palm with potato chips which she also eats without objection. The way her jaw moves, clumsy and slow, signals a threat that she might just fall over any minute.

You move your chair to her side and sit there, allowing Nayeon to lean her head on you. Her hair covers her reddening face, and her hiccups arrive in growing force.

“If you're still in there, Nayeon,” you say quietly, “we're not going out. I can't look after you this closely at a party.” All she does to respond is nod. Her hiccups are punctuated intermittently with sniffles, which you take as a sign that she knows she has no power left to object. 

Still, you feel bad for her as her plans fall through. Despite the responsible thing to do, put her to bed and leave, you kick yourself mentally before deciding to stay anyway.

“Movies and snacks?”

~-~-~-~

Before you know it, the night goes by just as quick. You go through the list of movies she’d always wanted to watch: The Truman Show, The Great Gatsby, Mean Girls, and even then there’s still a few left on her list. You could tell she was watching properly halfway through the first, and that was the telltale sign that she’d sobered up. 

You drink a bit more with her in between movies, and she would frequently pause to get up and put on a song to dance to. “It keeps me awake,” she said, “I can’t fall asleep before the good part happens.” The songs she put on are generic pop and the kinds you skip whenever they come up, but you let it pass for tonight.

At some point, she pulls out an old Wii and challenges you to Mario Kart. “I am undefeated in this game. I’m not even that good, everyone else that challenged me just sucked.” You take her up on her offer, and the match begins. You try and almost get ahead of her in a few of the turns, but she would always take back her lead at the slightest opportunity of you hitting a wall or missing an item. And the way she glows with pride every single time she crosses the finish line before you do, the sudden brightness that fills her face when she wins race after race, the confidence it gives her that she isn’t actually the worst person in the world, all of it is a sight to behold. People may see Kwon Nayeon as an arrogant goody-two-shoes traitor, but the way you see her now is different: just someone with a past to outgrow. 

Right as the last movie’s credits start rolling, mischievous thin rays of dawn sunlight slip past the tiny gaps in the curtains. Both you and Nayeon have little energy left for anything else, and you maybe think it’s time to call it a night and go home.

“Let me walk you out,” she says while trying to rub the sleep out of her eyes for a little bit longer. You both get up and walk to the door, and as it opens your faces are flooded with a world right before it wakes. Dewdrops sit respectfully on leaves and blades of grass, birds are only starting to stretch their wings, and the crisp morning air fills your lungs with a calm grace. 

You turn back to Nayeon, who you find is still admiring the dawn, and grasp her elbow. “Sit with me.” 

You both squat down and take your seats again on her doorstep. Clouds roll in and dot the sky, wandering on the blank canvas of today, eagerly waiting for sunlight to block out. The sun peeks over the horizon and the first proper rays start to arrive, spreading warmth where they land. Nayeon meets your eyes one last time, and the pair of you find a sleepy and still a bit drunk person when you look at each other.

“Well,” you say as if it was a farewell, “good night, Nayeon. And good morning.”

“Good night,” she giggles back, “and good morning to you too.”

3. Sneak into a Public Pool

“Are you sure about this?” Nana’s tone is subdued by fear. Her voice shakes and struggles to be as quiet as possible, but at the same time you get the feeling that if you didn’t need to be quiet, she’d be yelling right now and trying to get the both of you to leave.

“Can you please shut up? I’m trying to focus!” You find the first of the pins and push it out of the way. For a moment, you lament how restricted you are: this could have been such a simple lock to break, replace even, but the girl dragging you around was deathly insistent on leaving as little damage and evidence as possible. 

“You shut up! I'm whispering here!” Anger rises in her voice, and you almost feel anger in yours too. You're able to stop it though, and you remind yourself that if ever a guard was on watch that actually cared about this place, they'd be easily outrun.

The lock presents more of a challenge than you thought; despite the agonizingly simple solution of snapping its shackle, its inner mechanisms are harder to crack for whatever reason. Taking it pin by pin is supposed to be an easy task, but the warm and humid air and the incessant nagging seem to debilitate you. It’s such a nice night out for a swim, why make this any harder than it needs to be?

After what seemed like eternity you finally manage to pick the lock, sighing in relief as the both of you head forward quietly, but cautiously looking side to side just in case. The metal-grate door swings open slowly, avoiding any creaking sounds it may make otherwise, and the both of you enter the pool area.

“I gotta say Nayeon, this went better than I thought it would,” you say, both of you looking at the rectangular box of water which unlike during the day, was completely still, no waves, no splashes, just the water. It glistened and reflected all manner of light: the pool lights above and below the water, the yellow street lamps far off on the sidewalk, and the moon overhead, singing tones of wonder and mystery to those touched by its borrowed glow.

Off to the side, you find Nayeon fiddling with the hem of her shirt. Her head whips round incessantly as she tries to keep a lookout of the surroundings rather poorly. Sigh a deep one, and finally go over and take your seat next to her. 

“Thanks… gimme a sec.” She finally grabs the hem decisively. The fabric crumples a bit under her grip and folds as it's pulled up.

You can’t help but watch as the shirt starts to leave her body, revealing a slim and toned tummy underneath. Your breath hitches as it crawls higher, reaching her face and obscuring her sight, and she inadvertently shows off a dark purple sports bra that’s… a size too small. Your gaze lingers on her cleavage and the flesh of her boobs lightly spilling out of the garment.

Nana turns around and you’re treated with the view of a beautiful back and shoulders to die for. The way her body twists and turns in the slightest ways to negotiate the shirt off of her form is the most sensual dance you’ve ever seen.

And you realize you’re staring. Fortunately for you, she doesn’t seem to notice, and she continues on to fold the shirt properly before setting it next to her sports bag. You opt not to risk staring any longer, and you decide to get rid of your own shirt. You strip quickly, and your shirt flies off approximately near Nayeon’s things in a messy pile by itself.

Sit on the edge of the pool, dip your feet into the water. There’s absolutely no reason for it to be this warm, you think, but whatever the case may be, it feels like a tea that’s just about to go cold. This, coupled with the humid air and quiet atmosphere, makes for a perfect night to spend on whatever this is with her. 

She joins you and takes her seat at the edge of the pool, and in every other situation, you’d ask her to back off a bit. Instead, as she lays her head on your shoulder and takes your hand in between hers, you lose your steel in the most important of times. 

“I’m scared.” Her eyes never leave the water, taking in the light dancing on its surface. Her face is fraught with worry, and while you know it’s for no good reason, you nevertheless try to reassure her.

“Yeah, someone might jump out of the bushes and arrest us for swimming in a swimming pool,” you say mockingly. “They’re gonna take us to court on the charges of ‘using something the way it was meant to be used’ and we’re gonna get life sentences. When we’re all old and wrinkly they’re gonna sit us in the electric chair.”

“Okay, I get your point. But still, though, I’m scared.” She grips your hand tighter, and for some reason you can’t resist her. Place your other hand over hers and try to calm her down. Nana takes a deep breath with her eyes closed, and finally looks at you with a reserved grin.

“Alright, I’m good. Let’s go.” 

You feel her hand on your back, and warmth spreads from her palm. Her smile grows just a bit wider and her eyes follow suit. Her teeth show themselves from between her lips, and you’re almost tempted to dive right in. 

Lucky for you, she helps. The hand on her back suddenly applies more pressure, pushing you to the pool and causing a splash going all directions. Collect your thoughts and raise your head above the water to see Nana, face full of laughter, right before she dives in the water with you.

It takes a second, but her head resurfaces and you find yourself relieved. She catches her breath once more, and before you know it, you're met with a faceful of chlorinated water. “What are you staring at?” She says between hearty laughs. 

Wipe the water from your face, find the humor. Laugh with her, and face her properly.

Another shade of Kwon Nayeon. Granted, it's one with no makeup and way less clothes than usual, but none of that takes away from her natural, elegant beauty. It's captivating, the way her figure glides around the water, the way the cool night air wisps around the pair of you, the way the moon throws its rays around the world, your world, so haphazardly. 

Another faceful of water, and you snap out of your daze. “Creepy ass,” she snorts happily. She splashes you again, and this time you fight back. 

“Race you around the pool.” You start paddling, and the water grows loud against your ears. She says something back to you and starts paddling herself to catch up.

“Yeah,” you think to yourself, “whatever this is with her.”

4. Sing in an Open Mic

“Another night, another goal,” you muse, sitting in your car with Nayeon in the passenger seat. It has become quite a routine that every time she wants to do something on her bucket list she asks you to pick her up. You don’t mind too much — she pays for gas after all. 

“Where do we go this time?” Nayeon just shoves her phone in your face, showing a map with directions to some bar out of town. She looks at you expectantly, but without any more information than what you’re currently getting, you’re at a loss for what she’s trying to make you see.

“A club.”

“Exactly.”

“We already did ‘get drunk.’”

“I know. This is different.”

“How so?”

“Take me here. Make me sing. Take me home.”

The pieces connect in her head and she pulls out the notebook again. She flips to a page you again haven’t seen, and when she shows it to you you’re treated to the sight of “Open Mic Stage” in graffiti-style letters and the poster of “Wedding Singer” scrawled in the bottom right corner of the page. 

“If you have the map, why not just do this yourself? You didn’t need to wait for me. If anything, I’d only laugh at how bad you might be.” You push away her phone and notebook, choosing to return your attention to the sidewalk instead. The boba tea place you keep hearing about is nearby. 

“That’s the thing,” Nayeon interjects again, “I have been there before. I listened to all the people singing, and they’re… some are good. I don’t know if I am, but I got shy at the last minute and I never even got near the stage.” She grabs your sleeve and your attention. “I need you to make me sing. Don’t let me chicken out.”

You shrug, “Sure, let's do it.”

~-~-~-~

Taking up two seats at the bar, you try and seem to fail at helping Nayeon calm down. Her guitar rests against the bartop beside her while she fans herself hurriedly with her hand. “It’s so nerve-racking… I knew this was a mistake,” she adds before turning back and trying to leave the place, however, you stop her in her tracks

“Come on, you worked so hard for this,” you say, recalling the number of recordings she sent you: one for each take she was doing. “You can do this,” you continue reassuring her, knowing she’s more ready than ever. At the same time, you could see your friend get more nervous by the second, now taking more sips of her water bottle.

“But what if I miss a chord, or I sing badly? Everyone will laugh at my mist–'' You know at this point she’ll only spiral to worse and worse thoughts, so you nip it in the bud and stop her right there. You take both her shoulders in your hands, making Nayeon stop her nervous rambling, and her cheeks turn a shade of pink.

“I believe in you, Nana. just take a deep breath.” You stop to let her do as you say, taking a deep breath in and slowly breathing it out. The tension leaves her with each breath she takes, and you find a moment to keep her stable. “Good, I am sitting right here, not leaving for any reason, so if you feel nervous, just find me. Look at me.” Her gaze softens at your promise, and her lips form a tiny smile in response to your words. 

Hearing the current open mic singer finishing up his song, you send her off with some final words. “Your turn now, Nana. Break a fucking leg.” You leave her shoulders as her smile slowly starts to grow.

You watch her heading toward the stage, taking her guitar out of the cover, and taking her seat on the chair in front of the mic. “Hey,” she starts, “I am Nayeon… and I’m gonna sing Spring Day by BTS… I, uhh, hope you enjoy.”

She takes one last deep breath as you find her gaze on you. You return a reassuring smile, and Nayeon’s eyes fly back to her guitar. She strums her first chord, and the crowd’s welcoming applause rises.

“I’m missing you, when I say that I miss you more, I’m missing you…” Nayeon’s fingers strum the strings delicately, and it enchants you how graceful and in control she is of her instrument. The wood and metal of her guitar work together under her guidance to produce a beautiful sound, one you feel deep inside you'd never have heard the beauty of if not here, not now.

The way her lips move to articulate her words is heavenly, like she has you under a benevolent spell to bring you a rare sort of peace. It captivates you how she carries herself; behind her tough outer shell is a scared and confused layer, which hides a soft and optimistic core and wants to chase a brighter, happier future by cherishing the present. You marvel at your luck, that you were permitted to see so much of her, and how openly she welcomed you in when all she knew was aloneness and to shut people out. 

“Snowflakes falling from the sky, are drifting further by and by…” Her heavenly voice draws you in, and it commands your attention like it speaks directly to your soul. The sound of Nayeon tugs on your heartstrings, pulling you closer to its source, and you let yourself get whisked away.

And to its source you look; find a girl with courage like you’d never seen. See Kwon Nayeon in a different light than the harsh monotones of the classroom fluorescents, but in a spotlight that she takes up with everything in her soul. It’s a different shade of her: a shade of Nayeon that only you could comprehend, a part of her that only you had the privilege to understand.

“I breathe you out there somewhere, like smoke in the air…” The space grows warmer, like a hearth welcoming you home. Your surroundings quiet down as Nayeon pulls them deeper and deeper with her subconscious command: rest, lay down your worries and fly for the moment towards your peace. You look around, and every fellow face in the crowd you see has their eyes fixed on Nayeon’s performance; they’d never know it, but it’s the debut of a person coming into a whole new life free of regret and cowardice. It’s Nayeon building herself up from the rubble of a past that she aims to forget. 

“Flowers blooming towards the sky, has winter finally passed by?” The noise of the world seems to die down, as if just you and Nayeon are the only two things in existence. The pace of her strumming slows, as do the lyrics that escape her mouth. Every note she produces is deliberate, gentle, comforting, and for once you feel like you’re able to imagine a brighter tomorrow like her. 

With her. 

The song draws to a close, and she looks all over the crowd as they start to clap. You can't help but join in. Nayeon just bows lightly, and you can feel how happy she is that everything went well in her song. As she steps off the stage, you leave your spot and head toward her.

With both of you only a couple of steps apart, you chuckle lightly, “Well it wasn't so bad was—” You were stopped, caught off guard by your friend, dashing to you with open arms and crashing into your chest, wrapping her arms around you, and pulling you into an embrace. 

No words are spoken; both of you just stand there, hugging each other, her face nuzzling your chest as you could faintly feel her heartbeat. You were quite surprised with Nayeon being so open with you, since it was just a short time ago you made your promise to help. 

“Thank you…” she says, now releasing you from her embrace, noticing how her eyes shed small tears, that you couldn't figure out if they are tears of sadness, or happiness.

“... Always here for you Nayeon.”

“Please… call me Nana,” she says. She takes her notebook and crosses off another line from her bucket list, and as she walks toward the exit, you make way for the people coming by to greet her for the performance.

You can't help but wonder… has something changed after that performance?

5. Shoplifting

“Pick something already, it's not that hard,'' you remark impatiently while tapping your feet. Both of you are staring at the snack section of the local convenience store near your college, and Nana hovers her hand over the selection of snacks to look for the perfect one.

“Stop rushing me, I'm trying to choose which one will not get me caught,” she replies, still focused. The veteran petty thief in you groans, recalling your highschool days where nicking a cigarette or two (or ten) every once in a while gave you back huge chunks of your monthly budget. You miss the simplicity of it, and you once again find the restriction of being so careful more annoying than anything else. How come for Nayeon it is such a big struggle to steal one snack? You shoot the question up to whichever god might be listening, and you even half-expect an answer back. 

“You are thinking about it too much, the cashier is probably not gonna notice even if you stole something that made noise,” you add, tapping your foot rapidly, like you were some parent spending too long in the toy section.

“Well, please forgive me, oh thug master, it’s my fault that I never did that shit before!” Her whispers are loud enough for you to hear clearly, your less-than-welcoming attitude leading her to take a deep sigh.

“Fine, if you want to make it easier, do the buy one steal one method,” you explain. 

“The what?”

“Well to make it simpler than it already is, you dolt, you take two things, one you buy normally, and the other one you don't pay for,” you added as it seems to all make sense in Nayeon’s head. “Defeats the fucking purpose why we’re here, but really, the longer we spend here to leave with just four things, the more anyone will suspect us.”

Despite your best efforts to hurry her, they all seem to only make her take even longer. Her brow furrows deeper, as if trying to form lasers in her eyes to burn holes through the plastic wrappers. 

Your patience wears thinner by the moment, and you resolve to isolate before you lose it completely. “So if you’ll excuse me, I will get my shit and meet you outside,” you say, leaving her alone in the aisle.

As a promise to yourself not to shoplift anymore, you decide to buy just one pack of cigarettes. You light one of them as you lean against one of the store’s walls, watching the sun start to set. Find yourself sitting down, admiring the beauty of a day near its end, taking in the world around you.

Two cigarettes and fifteen minutes later, a small ding sounds from somewhere in the front of the store. It’s Nayeon, half-running out of the building, her face painted with worry as she finds and walks towards you.

“So, you did it?” A smile forms on Nayeon’s face as she takes her right hand to her jean’s pocket, revealing a small candy bar. She brandishes the candy around like a magic wand, as if trying to charm you into being proud of her. 

“Well… it's something,” you nod, while the two of you start towards her dormitory.

“Oh don’t say ‘it’s something’ when you didn't steal anything,” she exclaims. She holds the candy bar up against the setting sun, examining its entire wrapper. Now that you’re a considerable distance from the store, the worry on her face has been replaced completely by pride and excitement.

“Well I don’t shoplift anymore, the only reason I'm letting you do it is because you wanted the experience, which by the way,” you scoff, plucking the snack out of her hands, “all of that was for a chocolate bar.” This earns you a pretty strong punch on the shoulder, and the force loosens your grip on the snack enough for Nayeon to steal it back.

“Shut up,” she says, her cheeks seeming to grow a small shade of pink. She walks faster, leaving you no choice but to speed up as well.

6. Dye my Hair

“Do you think blonde hair will suit me?” Nana asks, holding the color card next to her face. You come in for a closer look, but as you stare you stop and wonder why you even did so in the first place. 

“Yeah… uhh yeah, I think it can suit you well.” You weren't an expert in hair styles and colors, so honestly unless it was a color that was actually hideous, everything was fair game.

Nana smiles at your response and picks out a box of blonde hair dye to add to her basket. You’re a bit nervous that she wants to dye it at home with you, but any attempts you made to convince her to see an actual stylist have been dismissed. “It’s easy,” she said, “there’s instructions on the box.”

“So, how was it?” You’re half-convinced that the bleach is eating through your rubber gloves, but you soldier on.

“Was what?” Nayeon checks herself out in the mini-vanity mirror in front of her. You have to swat her hands away from her head with your elbows, but apart from that she stays on her best behavior.

“You know,” you shrug, “this whole thing. The stealing, the swimming, the dyeing your hair.” You try to keep the bleach from dripping onto your arms, mostly aiming for the scattered sheets of newspaper the two of you prepared on the floor, but there’s only so much you can do. You just resolve to wash off any drops as quickly as possible. 

You get the feeling that she hoped you wouldn’t notice, but you did. The smile on her face dimmed the slightest it could before she could fix it. “It was… great! Stuff I’ll remember for the rest of my life, for sure.” 

Like some form of cosmic karma, she spots your involuntary grin in the mirror. “Good. That’s good.”

The color drains from her hair bit by bit as you apply the bleach carefully. You’re not sure how quickly you have to finish, but Nana seems not to mind. You gently stroke and rub the product through her hair, taking special care not to come into contact with her scalp too often, all the while she turns her head from side to side to admire the look she’s going to have soon. 

“You know…” she says suddenly, avoiding your eyes in the mirror, “this was really fun. I’m so happy I got to do all that stuff on my list.” Her smile changes: what was once a cheerful and optimistic smile just a few moments ago is now a wizened and melancholic one. “I mean it. Thank you for helping me.” 

She makes eye contact with you again in the mirror, and she flashes that smile to you once more. Her hair grows lighter with each passing second, and as her back relaxes and straightens, it seems that the weight of the world leaves her shoulders as well. She breathes more easily now, and despite the fumes the box says you should do your best not to inhale, you breathe easier too.

~-~-~-~ 

You’re sat back again on her sofa, and Nana tries her best not to mess with her hair that’s still soaking. She looks kind of silly, what with her old towel around her shoulders faded to near oblivion, her hair in sections making her look like a half-done scarecrow, her hands going up halfway to her head only to be forced back down by the other. 

And yet, you admire another shade of Nayeon. This time, it’s a girl who’s scared of the future, of changes she might regret later on. It’s something deep in her character, even central maybe, to be afraid of things she can’t take back. Even then, she takes her leaps and bounds to try and outrun her past, and finally, you see the razor edge that keeps everything in balance: Nayeon’s fear which dictates her present, and Nana’s strength which leads her to her future. 

“Hey,” you say abruptly, surprising even yourself, “you good?” 

“I think so. My head’s itchy. Is that supposed to happen? Should we wash it off?”

“No, jackass, it’ll look even worse if you quit halfway.” 

Your words set in and she realizes you’re right. Worry seeps into her face and you notice tears start to well up in her eyes.

“Look, this might not be comfy right now, but I promise it’ll be worth it later on.”

“Really? You promise it’ll look good?” She looks over to you with pleading, shiny eyes, and it almost hurts to tell her no.

“I said I promise it’ll be worth it. Not that it’ll look good.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

You chuckle at the sudden rise in her voice. After all this time, she’s still Nayeon, still Nana. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“It means… if you stick with it, there’s no way you’ll regret what we just did.”

7. You know…

The end of your senior year of college rolls around, and the graduation ceremony is still fresh in everyone’s minds. Photos of friends together and square caps thrown into the air decorate your social media feeds for a good few days, and you can’t deny the whole thing was something you wouldn’t forget for the rest of your life.

And finally, Nana’s bucket list has been finished. To think that all of it was done in the span of a college year is quite impressive to say the least, as before you started she was lost in her own goals and left sitting for a good three years. Now, looking at your diploma, it was not only a sign of your successful studies at college, for you it was also the sign of helping your dear friend get to where she wanted to be. 

Speaking of the devil, now sending you a message

On the way, you see various people from her dorm building heaving away bags and suitcases, undoubtedly taking advantage of the nice weather to move out. You see people hugging each other, taking selfies, exchanging numbers, and all the while you think of each of them with their own stories to tell when they get home, but none so interesting as the one you and Nana built together. 

The walk up the stairs was more of the same, people saying goodbye, and you can’t help but feel a bit of nostalgia. It was by no means a short year, but for everything you did, the feeling of wanting just a bit more time never seems to leave you. You recall the first time you saw her, that quiet girl in the front of the auditorium with four seats of clearance around her, and how you slowly watched her grow into the fine and confident woman she is now. Part of you is unbelievably proud of what she’s achieved, but another part of you knows it’s all her doing and you were only along for the ride. 

You reach Nana’s room just as her roommate was leaving, and you exchange pleasantries with her before she goes off. “Hey, just so you know, Nayeon’s a really nice girl,” she says in whispers to you, “I’m glad she found you before she left.” She pats you on the back before going off to the stairs herself. Something deep inside you glows in agreement, and you think to yourself how lucky you were to be able to meet and spend time with a person like her.

“Hey, come in!” Nana pushes you into her now half-empty room. “Yuri just left, so we have the place all to ourselves!” You take a seat on her easy chair while she plops herself down onto her bed. The half that still has stuff in it is simple and unassuming, and the realization dawns on you that this is the first time you’ve been in Nana’s room. Despite this, the space is warm and cozy, like it was filled with a good sort of energy for a long time. 

“Cheers” you both say at the same time, each with a can of beer that you both drink fairly quickly. You recall the first time of her drinking with you, how easily she felt her stomach hurting but this time she quickly shrugs off the bitter taste.

“You know,” Nana says, her eyes shining and her smile flashing itself directly at you, “I am really happy that you helped me with the bucket list, I couldn't do it without you.”

You simply laugh casually and say “Come on Nana, all you needed was confidence.”

“And who do you think gave me that confidence? I really mean it…thank you,” she says, and you can't help but smile at her back.

“Let me get some snacks, okay? Don’t move a muscle.” As she stands and heads toward the kitchen, you go to check up your phone to see what the time is. However, just as you are about to go into your Instagram, you notice something on the table: a little black notebook that’s only all too familiar. 

When you think about it, She has never shown you the actual list besides that one time when you two first talked. “A peek won't hurt right?” you say, the alcohol definitely makes the choice for you. Your sober self would never invade someone's privacy, especially not some as close as Nana’s, but regardless, you open it and…

You flip through the pages, and the notebook reveals so much more. The few pages you’ve been shown were just decorated pages, and each mission was a chapter, filled with dozens of writings, pictures, scribbles, each for its own topic. You find yourself smiling, muttering quietly to yourself: “You really worked hard on it… didn't you?” 

Your attention is snatched to Nana across the room, looking at you with cheeks fully red. You can't help but curse quietly, and you try to come up with something of an apology. However before you can finish your first word she says…

“Hey, come on, put that down!” Nana rushes toward you, nearly tossing the snacks off to some random part of the room, and snatches away the little black notebook from your hands. She hugs it close to her chest as she turns away, and she looks over her shoulder to peek if you might still be thinking about snatching the notebook back.

Instead, you raise your hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. Sorry. But what's there to hide? Aren't we done?” You take another sip of your drink before picking up one of the snacks. You open the bag of chips and place it on the table for the both of you. 

“Well… I had one other thing. I gave up on it a long time ago, just never ripped out the page.” Nana turns back toward you and fiddles with a leaf of the notebook. Her steps are careful when she gets nearer to you, as if cautious to scare you away. 

“What?!” You bolt to your feet in surprise, your drunkenness taking a backseat at the sudden exposition. “Shit, we gotta go now! What is it?”

“Calm down,” Nana mutters, her feet rubbing against the carpet, “it isn't something we can do anywhere else anyway. Or, I mean, it’s done? I don’t know…”

Your nerves are still flaring, but you get the feeling that whatever it is, there's nowhere else but where you are now that Nana could do the last bucket list thing. Your gaze steadies on her, and she looks like she wouldn't budge for the world. Her eyes never leave the floor, her hands stay guarded on the notebook, and for some reason, she's also able to keep you just where you are. 

“So… what is it, then?” 

“Promise me you won't get mad?”

“... Promise.”

Once she hears you say it, her eyes shut tight. As if gathering courage, she takes a deep breath before taking deliberate steps to where you're standing. You never see it coming, but the next thing you know, Nana's soft lips are on yours, her delicate fingers keep you steady in place, and her vanilla scent fills your nose and overwhelms your senses that you can't think of anything at all but her.

It takes only half a second, but you melt into the kiss yourself. Your eyes flutter closed and start to forget the world around you in favor of the girl who stayed by your side. The space between the two of you grows smaller, your hands make their way to her waist, and you let your selfishness take over and keep her for yourself as well. 

The kiss breaks just as you hold her, and both your eyes shoot open to find hers just as wide as yours. 

“I-I, umm… I’m sorry, it was too sudden, and uhh…” It wasn't too hard to see how much she was stuttering, and if you weren't so surprised yourself you would've also joined her like the blushing mess she is right now.

The alcohol was starting to hit you again, and your better judgment slowly left you as you took her lips once more. You have no time to be surprised at how willing she is, and you resolve to just enjoy the kiss with her. You lead her to the edge of the bed and sit her down; and the first chance she gets, she lies back onto the mattress and pulls you with her. 

“If you really wanna know…” She flips to the last page of the notebook and shows you. It’s a simple picture, just two stick figures in a heart, holding hands. You don’t recognize the poster, but the quote is unmistakable: “You should be kissed, and often, by someone who knows how.”

“I’m glad we got to spend all this time together, and I know I keep thanking you, but I really am so happy…” Nana pulls you back in, and with your own sweet defiance, you trace kisses across her cheek and onto her neck. The whimpers that escape her are adorable, but at the same time they also confirm thoughts you’ve only ever tried to suppress: she likes you too. 

You go lower and lower, tracing kisses from her neck to nibbling her collarbone, and you settle right before you reach her chest. Her breath hitches when she figures out what you want to do, but ultimately her fingers rake comfortingly through your hair.

“So tonight… let me show you… let me thank you… properly.” Her eyes may look pure when she says those words, but with how you are inches away from her lips, with how you have been kissing her now, it's anything but.

She slowly pulls off her jacket, her eyes never leaving you. The fabric slides off of her arms, revealing the smooth skin of her slender arms. The next to go is her tank top; her fingers grip the hem lightly, tugging slowly upwards, showing you her toned tummy and milky skin. The hem rises higher and higher, until she stops right under her chest. 

“Are you sure?” Your question is breathless, not in the slightest bit annoyed, but your tone full of concern reaches her. “You don’t have to do this for me.”

“I know,” she says, the sound of her voice betraying a dry throat, “I love you.” She pulls the rest of her top off, and her boobs bounce freely in front of you. Nana takes your hands and places them on each, and asks you playfully, “Come on, you think I never caught you staring?”

She pulls you back in for a kiss, a proper one this time, the kind that quenches your thirst for her. She tries her best to wrap her tongue around yours, all the while you take your fill of her soft tits. Pinch and tweak her nipples, feel them stiffen as her tiny whimpers grow into careless moans. You never let up, delivering constant pleasure to her chest, and your surprise when you feel her palming your growing bulge is quickly replaced with anticipation. 

Her hand slips under your waistband and her moan fills your mouth when she feels how hot and hard your cock is for her. She wraps her fingers around your shaft and gives long, slow strokes, nothing that would make you cum on the spot, but just about enough to make you leak precum onto her palm. She relishes the feeling of your arousal on her skin, and as she picks up her pace, seemingly trying to entice you to do more, you’re left with no choice but to give her exactly what she wants. 

You work on unzipping your jeans and taking them off, and with Nana’s help, it feels like the second easiest job in the world. They fall to your ankles and you kick them away, and all of a sudden your cock rests on the skin of her luscious thigh. The heat and the precum that leaks onto her flesh surprises her, but her senses come back to her and she asks for a time out. 

“Gimme a sec, I have to breathe,” she gasps unsteadily. You get off her, wondering what you might have done wrong. Her breathing is ragged and she seems to not be able to focus on much else, but a reassuring look in her eyes lets you know she’s alright. 

“I just– I needed to see it.” Her gaze falls on your cock, and once she reaches and wraps her fingers around your shaft again, it throbs in her hand. A groan of pleasure escapes you, and she figures out that she’s doing something right. Her pumps start slow, gradually building up speed, all the while she brings her face closer and closer, and you don’t even notice it, but finally her lips meet the tip of your dick. Nana rubs your precum all over her lips like lipstick, and she takes your head in her mouth. 

Small groans come from your mouth feeling her soft lips, you enjoy much more than you thought, especially knowing how inexperienced you thought she was. Your hands meanwhile grab a part of hair, pulling it lightly, causing Nana to moan into your cock.

“Don't get mad if I do this wrong–” she says, her eyes fraught with worry. Despite this, she makes careful moves to give you the best possible experience. She seals her lips around your head, and she gives slow but deep sucks as she tries her hardest. 

“You’re– nngh– doing great,” you moan, the pleasure overtaking you. The eye contact you two share is enchanting; she’s undoubtedly a very pretty girl, and despite the amateur blowjob, she more than makes up for it with her enthusiasm. Her head bobs slightly, trying to take more of your length in, but her worry of choking keeps her from giving any more. 

On the other hand, she has no idea of the effect she has on you, and the sight of the gorgeous woman’s plump lips on your cock coupled with her eager attempts at making you feel good nearly sends you over the edge early. In an effort to stave off your orgasm for even just a little while longer, you regrettably pull her off of you. 

“What– what’s wrong? Wasn’t it good?” Again her words are coated with worry of disappointing you, but the way you look tenderly to her reassures her. 

“You are perfect, Nana,” you whisper into her ear. You lay her back onto the bed gently, and you let show your eagerness to please her too. You venture down until you’re level with her crotch, and you work slowly to peel off her thin shorts. As they leave her legs, you’re presented with a pastel blue pair of panties, though you can’t help but notice the growing wet spot right in the center and the scent of her arousal seeping through. It must be uncomfy, you think, and you strip it off of her as well. 

The garment leaves her and you look to Nana for approval: her finger between her teeth and her face red as a tomato, she looks at you with a loving gaze. Only then do you realize that Nana is now fully naked, everything bare for you and you alone, and the way her thighs rub together needily sends the message you’ve been dying to get. 

Part her legs, meeting little resistance as you do. Travel up from her knees to her thighs, planting kisses and light nibbles on the soft flesh of her legs. Hearing how she whimpers beneath your lips: “That feels really good… I want more…” 

Your lips finally meet her pussy, and the initial contact draws out a sultry moan from her. Each swipe of your tongue on her cunt causes more and more of her love juices to leak out, sending waves of ecstasy up her spine. She tries locking your head in place as she runs her fingers through your hair, all the while she grinds her crotch on your face as she chases her pleasure. 

“Yes, yes, yes! Fuck, you feel so good! I love you~!” Nana humps your face more and more roughly, and you take it as a sign that she’s close. Good thing as well, as you’re running out of air, but on the other hand you feel as though this wouldn't be the worst way to go. You run your tongue over her soaked pussy, taking slow, deep licks. 

She’s inching closer to her orgasm, her hips are bucking onto your mouth, your tongue meets her clit, she squeezes your head between her thighs, your lips seal around her swollen nub, she grabs your hair and pulls hard, and with a scream ripping through her throat, Nana squirts her love juices straight into your waiting mouth as you drink her essence up. Her scream turns into a drawn-out moan as she continues to grind on your face, making sure to pleasure herself enough to give you everything you’ve been working so hard for, and you lap every single drop of it up like it was the sweetest thing you’ve ever tasted. 

She releases her grip on your hair and head, and as she relaxes onto the bed her arms fall to the sides and her legs spread open. She lazily brings a hand to her pussy and rubs it, showing you just how good you made her feel, and she smiles up at you. 

“That was fucking amazing.” It couldn’t have sounded any sweeter, and the fact that it came from Nana, lying on her bed wearing nothing but a smile that you gave her, fills you with a sort of pride that you doubt you’d ever get again anywhere else in your life. But as she starts to get up, and she places her lips on yours, you feel another weight lifted off your chest. It’s another shade of her, one that shows you how she is when she’s content. It’s her way of telling you that among the hundreds of firsts she’s had in her life, she’s grateful that you were this one too. And as you kiss back, your hands finding their way to her hips, you connect with her again on a level that you never put into words before. “I love you too, Nana.”

Upon hearing, her kiss deepens and her tongue works harder to play with yours. She leans on you more, until finally you let yourself fall backwards, and Nana is right there, straddling you, with an innocent yet horny look in her eyes again.

“Your turn. Relax, okay?” She caresses your cheek, and suddenly you’re made conscious of how bad you’re probably blushing right now. Despite this, her smile never leaves her face as she continues to reassure you. She giggles at whatever expression it is that you’re showing her, and she gets to work. 

Nana reaches to her bedside table and opens a drawer, and from it she produces a peculiar box. “Remember when I ‘stole’ that candy bar?” She tears off the sticker on the edge of the box to open it, pulls out a little plastic square pouch, and tears it open with her teeth. “I… bought… the candy bar. This was what I stole.” She tugs on the contents of the pouch, and reveals a condom. 

“What the–” you start, but you soon stop in favor of moans caused by Nana’s handjob. “Don’t ever belittle me like that again, okay?” Her smile is again just as sweet and innocent as the first time you saw it, but now is completely different. It never leaves her face as she pulls the rubber over your cock, but not before giving it a few more cursory licks.

“Ready?” she asks, and you nod furiously. Finally, she aims the tip of your cock at her entrance and slowly sinks down onto you. “Oh, fuck, it’s so big,” she gasps. She takes her time taking in your length, feeling every vein against her pussy walls as you enter her tight pussy. She sucks air in through her teeth, her eyes shut tight, her fingernails leaving imprints on your chest as more and more of you slides into her unbelievably tight cunt. As she does, you feel her wet velvet walls rub your cock inside her, her slick spreading all over you and coating you with a warm you can’t describe. After what seemed like an eternity of bliss, she finally hilts, having taken everything inside her, and she sits on your crotch without moving, still trying to get used to the feeling of her pussy being so full. 

“You good?” you ask, genuinely concerned if she’s okay or not. Place a hand on her waist, pat to comfort her. Her eyes open slowly, almost releasing a tear, and panic rises in your chest. 

“Shit, shit, I’m sorry, do you need to get off? I–” you start, but she shuts you up with another kiss. It’s slow and gentle as it starts, just simple pecks, as she reassures you once again that she’s alright. Once she pulls away, she flashes you another smile, and you swear she gets more and more beautiful with each and every one. 

“I’m okay. Are you okay?” She traces circles on your cheek and neck, and all you could do is nod. She comes back in for another kiss, and this time it’s much deeper. She opens her mouth to moan, and you jump at the opportunity to swipe at her tongue too. She loves it, and once she’s comfy enough, she starts to hump against you as well.

“It’s really really good. Do you feel good?” Her question snaps you out of your daze, but you only nod as you fight off cumming too early. Not long after that, you note she’s had her fill as she pulls away from you. Her posture straightens and she sits on you properly again, this time determined to return the favor and blow your mind. She takes in a deep breath, braces herself, and lifts herself up carefully. Your breath hitches, watching her naked figure on top of you, and you admire the way her sweat collects in drops before they slide down between her breasts. She notices you staring again, and she brings your hands up to her chest, moaning at the first moment of contact. Your instincts overtake you; you push yourself off the bed to her boobs and start to suck. Your lips seal around her nipples and she runs her fingers through your hair as she tries to push you deeper into her delicious breast. 

“Shit, don’t stop,” Nana pleads, and you continue kneading the flesh of her boobs more, sucking when and where you can. At that moment, she forces herself back down onto your dick, taking in everything again all at once. Her walls part suddenly, and once she settles her warm pussy walls squeeze your cock as tight as she can. She begins bouncing, her moans never stopping, and you find a rhythm: each time Nana brings herself down, you thrust up to meet her halfway. The first time you do, you reach a depth to her that neither of you thought was possible, and the heat from her sex with her slick drive the pair of you insane with pleasure. 

She keeps bouncing on your cock as her lewd moans gradually grow louder and louder with each of your thrusts into her needy core. Her eyes roll to the back of her head, her pussy tightens again, and just as you deliver a perfectly-timed bite to her nipple, another scream rakes out of her throat as her second orgasm overtakes her. Her pussy convulses as her hips buck again and again on your cock, her thighs and tits jiggle seductively, and her tightness reaches new heights as if she wants to keep your cock inside her forever. Despite this, you never stop thrusting her, never stop making love to her, and you cover her chest in kisses while you lick up all her sweat. 

You never give her a chance to catch her breath, and soon enough, an unknowable number of seconds or minutes past, you feel your own orgasm coming. You take one last look at her godly figure and divine visuals, and you finally succumb.

Hold her close, hold her tight. She’s made it clear that she doesn’t want you getting away, so you only return the desire. Keep thrusting into her, forget about how she’s losing her mind. She’s gone, lost in her own pleasure, and there’s no point in bringing her back yourself. Instead, follow her. Send yourself over the edge and join her in her ecstasy.

You momentarily lose your flow of consciousness as flashes of white fill your eyes, but you’re snapped back to reality with Nana pulling at your hair. Only then do you realize; you’re actually cumming inside her. With each spurt, you thrust into her as your cock twitches against her slick walls. The cumulative heat from your cum sends just the right signals to Nana’s body, and it sends back the equivalent of screams of desperation at the illusion of breeding. Your pumps are harsh and careless – thank the stars you’re wearing a condom – but Nana is too far lost to care past the unholy pleasure you deliver to her. 

“Fuck, fuck! Aaaahhh!!!!” You feel her tighter, as if clamping down on your cock, her cunt pulsating and the connection between the two of you growing wetter, slicker. Despite this, you never let up, hell-bent on giving her everything you have. One spurt turns into two, then four, then six. It didn’t matter, none of it did. It could have been the end of the world and you wouldn’t have minded. All that was important was the girl sitting on your lap, losing her mind.

As both of your orgasms die down, the pair of you fall to the mattress. You stare at each other, wide-eyed and out of breath, and all you can do is smile and giggle at each other. As each of you catch your breath, the world quiets down, and all that’s left in existence is just you and Nana. 

“Wow,” she sighs, “nice.” Her smile grows wide again, and her hand once more finds your cheek to caress.

“Yeah, nice.” You laugh back at her, the adrenaline fading quickly. “Does that check the thing off your list?”

“Oh, yeah!” Nana jolts up and off the bed, or at least attempts to. Instead, she falls back next to you, and only then do you realize the fatigue rendering your bodies useless. 

“So… we good?” There’s nowhere else to look but right to her. Nana’s beautiful, round, just a bit teary eyes gaze back at you with adoration and love, something you never thought you’d have for yourself in this magnitude. And yet, here you are, and here she is, as if nothing else mattered. 

“Shit. That was crazy. Anyway, yeah. Thanks.” With her last ounce of strength, she comes in for one more kiss. She collapses in your arms, cuddled right up to your chest, and you can imagine she could hear how loud your heart was thumping, just like hers. 

Catch her snoring an adorable snore, wrap her in an embrace that would protect her from the worst the world could throw at her. A small thought in your head says you want to keep her safe forever like this, but you know better: she’s a strong woman who can take care of herself. Think back to how lucky you are, and how you walked this journey with her. Recall how she was just a fearful nobody when you first met, remember how you watched her grow into the amazing person she is now. 

Your eyelids grow heavy, and you realize your waking seconds left are numbered. Right before you drift off to sleep yourself, you hear her, in the tiniest voice ever, mumbling her confession: “Stay with me.”

“Go to sleep, Nana.” You smile and turn your head toward hers, arms wrapped around her waist. 

“Not without a promise.” Her own eyes are half-lidded, and you can tell she’s fighting back her drowsiness as hard as she can. She tries blinking the sleep away, but it only works marginally.

You could say anything to her at all right now, anything in the world, but there’s really only two things that need to be put into words. Your mind rushes at a snail’s pace, and you reach for faraway ideas when the right one is just in front of you. In your mind only one question appears: “So is this like…a one time thing?” 

In response Nana just leans in and kisses your cheek, then giggles. “Would me saying ‘I love you’ outside of sex prove it?” she asks playfully, her tone betraying her desire for rest.

“Touché.” One hand goes to her soft blonde hair, brushing it to the side. “But in my defence, suddenly kissing me and then getting me naked was not the first thing I expected when you said there was ‘one last thing’ in your bucket list,” you state matter-of-factly.

You share a bout of tired laughter for a moment, and then you both look at each other with pure eyes, as if you two compete to see who can make the other blush first. Decidedly, Nana loses while she confesses. “I used to think that college was supposed to be all rose-colored, that it was to be the peak of my life. But spending it with you, I learned that it doesn’t have to be all grand milestones to live through.” The air in the room swirls differently, replacing stale breaths with new ones from the open window. 

“That time you cheered me on during the open mic, how you looked at me… It made me realise that after everything’s said and done, I wanted peace. And I can feel peace with you, without all the guilt of past mistakes, nor ghosts of regret that would’ve haunted me for the rest of my life,” she says, now leaning toward your ear muttering, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you whisper back, smiling from ear to ear. Eventually you both released the hug. Look around her room for your clothes, which was surprisingly hard for how your sex wasn't too feral, and in turns take showers to clean yourselves up.

As you get out of the shower, fully cleaned and with some good-enough-for-sleep clothes, you find Nana on her bed fully knocked out. You simply laugh and join her, and her instinct leads her to wrap her arms around your waist while her head leans into your chest.

“Goodnight, Nana,” you whisper with finality, as if ending the night on a perfect note. Peck her forehead and close your own eyes, and fall into slumber just as deep as hers.

Bucket List Completed

“Argh, I’m so excited!” She grips you by your collar and shakes you as she screams, jolting away any sleep you wished to get. 

Two months have come and gone, and while you know it hasn’t been long, things have changed so much. Despite you trying to get just a bit more sleep in the backseat of the taxi, Nana right next to you can’t stop bouncing in hers as the sights outside the window pass her by.

“Okay, okay. Just get all this energy out before we get on the plane, please?”

She returns her attention to the window just as the taxi slows to a halt. Your new girlfriend practically throws open the door and leaps out, heading straight for the trunk to retrieve your luggage. 

“Hurry up! We might miss our flight!” She struggles lifting her comically large suitcase before you hear it hits the concrete pavement followed by its handle extending with its clack-clack-clack. 

“Hawaii isn’t going anywhere, Nana, please,” you mutter as you lazily exit the cab. You hand the driver your fare, and he reaches out to accept. As he does, he gives you a knowing smirk and tips his hat to you, as if saying “good luck.”

Turning around, you find Nana with all of your luggage too, eagerly awaiting your arm for her to cling to before you make your way inside. The hustle and bustle of Incheon International Airport fills her with a deep sense of excitement, and honestly, who could blame her? Your girlfriend is in the midst of all these other people — travelers, tourists, adventurers — and she fits right in. It’s the most natural thing for her now, to find herself in new situations that broaden her horizons and make her feel alive. 

She yanks you to her side in line for the desk, holding her brand-new polaroid camera at a high angle. “Cheese!” she screams, not far enough from your ear, but with how happy she is, you can’t help but smile her smile too. “Our first overseas trip! This is the first time I’m leaving Seoul, let alone Korea!” 

“Okay, Nana, calm down,” you chuckle, but you know she won’t. Divert her attention instead, put her energy to good use. “Do you have your passport? Carry on? Pink notebook?”

Though you both are sure she hasn’t missed anything, Nana rummages through her bag again anyway. “Check, check, and check! How could I forget?” She takes each item to show to you, and she flips through the pink notebook once it’s in her hand.

One thing about Nana, she never lets the moment escape her anymore. Once she sets out to do something, she’ll do everything in her power to accomplish that goal. This is no different, and you love her so much for it.

After looking through the notebook, she claps it shut. She flashes you the drawing of a gray bucket on its front cover before it disappears back into her carry on, and you both are reminded that a part of who you are as a couple is just that: a notebook that predicts the future by rooting itself in the present. Sadly, a weeklong trip won’t be enough for everything on her list this time, but who’s to say you’re not coming back eventually? 

And at the end of the trip, you have it ready, the best gift you could give her: a little green notebook, every left-side page filled with things you want to do, and the corresponding right side page blank, all for her. And on the very last leaf, where the cardboard of the back cover accompanies it, is a drawing of a ring, with the words: “I’ll be taking my time, spending my life, falling deeper in love with you.”

“Come on, hurry!” She yanks again, snapping you out of your wistful thoughts. “We’re gonna miss the plane!” Nana pulls you to the gate just as the intercom announces your flight has begun boarding. “Alright, alright! Easy,” you chuckle again, and you can’t believe this is the same girl behind the gym crying her eyes out alone just last year. Funny how people change like that, but at the same time, it’s impossible to think that Nana would ever stay the same.

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

Thank you all for watching, it has been a long time working on it and we are really happy it is finally out, hope yall had a good read with this one,

i will see you all next time leafies~

[pedgito]

MILLER'S GIRL ✎ SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter One: Teacher’s Pet

Chapter Summary: First day woes and a difficult semester ahead, you find solace in your caring, attentive creative writing professor who shows you just a little more attention than everyone else, or so you think. [5k]

[student/teacher relationship, age gap, no outbreak, power dynamic]

Chapter Warnings: fem!reader, professor!joel miller (his teacher persona is v different from outside of the classroom, so if he seems slightly ooc....close your eyes), dom!joel, sub!reader, reader is a little obsessed with joel (and delusional), mentions of infidelity (not by joel), sarah doesn't exist here, background tess x joel, inappropriate relationships/actions, talks of literature and lots of random writing topics, dream smut, gratuitous descriptions of mr. miller's body and personality.

note: thanks to @planet-marz1 for the last minute beta.

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There’s a deafening silence that surrounds you when you step into the lecture room, not nearly as big as your other main course classes, it’s intimate. Close. If you kicked a foot out from the chair you were sitting in you could touch the professor’s desk. 

Part of you wonders if you were the only person taking this class, sitting for a few minutes alone, not another person in sight—until one files in, then another, until there’s about ten of you seated sparsely in the small space. It’s mostly bare aside from the few books shoved away on a nearby shelf, antiquey books that, no doubt, had a thick layer of dust. 

The problem with the class was that you weren’t sure if it was ever going to be a real thing—applying you had the expectation of who your teacher would be, what you could expect from the coursework, and just how manageable it would be amongst the rest of your classes. But, there was little known now. 

All you did know was that they had to find a replacement quick, which they did, and you were sure that a sign of their lacking punctuality was a great start, tucking your chin over the bag placed on your desk as you waited in silence amongst simmered voices, feeling starchly out of place.

You didn’t know this place—it was new, Austin. You moved clear across the country on a whim, wanting a new start in a place you’ve never seen before. You’d plucked a community college out of the bunch, not worried with the semantics of applying to some big, ivy league school. You wanted something manageable, something attainable. This seemed like the easiest option, unsuspecting and unknown, you could slink by and go about your life peacefully. 

That is what you wanted, after all.

Until you meet Mr. Miller.

Joel could’ve pursued music, or carpentry, or about a billion other things he was skilled at—yet somehow, teaching seemed to be the easiest option. It gave him the familial feeling of caring and guiding that he did enjoy, molding young minds and helping them bloom. He worked at a local high school in Austin for years—fifteen good, long years. 

But, he too needed a change. His life was slowly crumbling in on himself.

He sees the job opening on the last weekend of summer, still teetering with the option of returning to his teaching job at the high school—it isn’t as manageable as it used to be, finding that in his older age that dealing with the behavior and arguments with ill-managed kids was more of a hassle than it needed to be for the pay he was receiving. 

So, fuck it. He applies.

He gets a call the following Monday and he’s officially added to the staff by the end of the week—and of course, he’s never stepped foot on the campus until his first day. So, he’s lost. Joel realizes how unprofessional it looks, scrambling with his bag as he throws it over his shoulder and haphazardly adjusts his tie, hoping that his hair wasn’t too askew and wild, despite the wind flying through his hair in the chilly bite of the autumn weather.

Things couldn’t have been off to a better start.

-

There’s the slightest trickling of a thought that you should leave, give up that this class might be an ultimate failure but then he’s walking through the door. You knew his name, but that was as far as your reach extended. Mr. Miller. J. Miller, to be specific.

James. Justin. Jonathan. It was all a mystery to you.

You find that his appearance is less than prepared, mostly disheveled and he seems breathless as he offers a subtle nod of awkward acknowledgement as he slings his bag onto the desk. Thankfully, he seems to understand that there was a tinge of urgency with him being late and he quickly reaches into his bag and pulls out a stack of papers.

Class syllabuses. He hands them off silently to the person on the farthest side of the room and hoping they would get the idea, pass them off until they reach the final person. It’s crisp, stark white paper covered in a boring black-inked text. Nothing seemed out of the norm—different methods of writing you would try over the course of the semester and specific assignments that would pop-up throughout. You enjoyed the predictability of it. Though, there is a significant surprise when your professor begins to speak, pulling your attention to the front of the room.

He’s gathered himself rather quickly, assuming he’s had his fair share of time in the field.

He writes his name out in clear, dignified letters on the board.

Mr. Miller, the screech of a solid drag as he underlines his name.

“I know I’m not who you all were suspecting.” He begins, placing the chalk down, hand wrapping around a balled fist as he cracked his knuckles, walking slowly until he can lean against the edge of his desk, soles of his shoes squeaking against the floor.

“And I’ll admit, I’m new to this,” He waves vaguely around the room, “I’m used to public school and the shittiness that comes with that—so I hope that if I can take this seriously, you all can extend that gesture too.”

You notice how comfortable he seems in group settings, relaxing his broad shoulders as he crosses his arm, glancing around the room casually, never lingering for too long.

“I won’t pester you too much today, given I already wasted some of your time,” Someone snickers softly toward the back of the room and Mr. Miller cracks a subtle smirk, seemingly embarrassed but not offering anything to pick at. “But, I’m willing to answer any questions you have while we have the time today.”

Questions flow in easily: what the semester would consist of, more elaboration outside of the syllabus, some of Mr. Miller’s favorite pieces of literature—part of you expects him to inject the usual ‘around the room introduction’ scheme, but he doesn’t. Instead, he leans into the more engaging questions asked, answering as freely and as interested as he can.

He loves Robert Frost, which makes sense. You’re not sure why, but it is predictable. 

He is predictable. Sipping on a large mug of what you can only assume is coffee, the smell permeating toward you with where he’s resting against his desk, only a foot or so away. You haven’t managed to catch his gaze yet, which you’re partly thankful for. It allows you to study him, examine his expressions—admire…No.

And while he can continue his talk about favorite authors for days—the class draws to a close sooner than you expect, and you move lazily as most of the class disperses at the first opportunity with it being their final class of the day.

You’re throwing your bag over your shoulder when you hear his voice, addressing the only other person in the room.

You.

“Intimidating?” Your face screws up in confusion, head tilting his way as your eyes connect for the first time. “Oh, uh—sorry, I’ve just been doin’ this a while. I can tell when someone is anxious in class.”

And, while it wasn’t necessarily anxiety—it was more the idea of adjusting. This was new, this place wasn’t familiar and you were just trying to settle in. Mr. Miller seemed like the guy to have deep roots planted into these grounds, familiar with this town like he’s been here his entire life.

He has, but that wasn’t the point.

“No,” You answer indifferently, shrugging your shoulders, “I think your radar might be a little off.”

Joel chuckles softly, tapping his fingers against the leather cover of his bag as he leaned the tops of his thighs against the edge of his desk, “You know—you didn’t partake much in class discussion just now.”

You weren’t sure where he was driving his point, gradually stepping toward his desk, fingers wrapped around the straps of your bag, pulling against the tight material of your shirt as it stretched over your breasts, “And you were about—fifteen minutes late, too.”

Touche. He nods, lips pursed together.

“Just, fair warning—class discussion is a good chunk of your grade, participation and all that. I want you to feel comfortable enough to join in so…however I can help with that.”

Your eyebrows knit together, thoroughly thrown off by his forwardness—or well, so you assumed. He quickly realizes his misstep.

“No—not like…I mean, if there’s anything that you like or are interested in that you want covered over the semester, let me know. I don’t want it to be so focused on stuff that only appeases a few people. Alright?”

You think on his words, chewing at your bottom lip quietly. 

He doesn’t know why he feels like he’s standing on the edge, waiting impatiently for your response—but when you do, it feels like he can breathe. Joel didn’t want to fuck this job up and he already felt like he’s stepped off on the wrong foot.

“Alright.” You confirm simply, nodding politely. “Thank you, Mr. Miller.”

He nods in response, the smallest twitch of a smile pulling at his lips.

“Have a good day.” He bids kindly, waving at you haphazardly as you left.

And now the day felt even weirder than when it started.

-

The first few weeks of class are actually…a delight. You find yourself looking forward to them as the weeks grow on and drag out, slowly making your way through the day and finding that Mr. Miller’s was the only class you could successfully relax in, not so pressure to participate because it was as equally engaging on both ends.

Mr. Miller liked to talk and argue just as animatedly as most students who had a point to prove—and you see why he must’ve been hired on a whim, the ability to charm and wit himself in and out of any scenario he wanted. It was…mesmerizing in a way that intoxicated you and infected your body and mind. He had you locked in every time he opened his mouth, finding your eyes dragging along the planes of his face and his well-kept appearance now that he arrived on time, sharp. Never early, never late. 

He was as punctual as they come, slowly littering his classroom with more and more personalization. More literature books, smaller books of poems, packets of some of his favorite script writings and a few non-fiction pieces he thought to be intriguing. 

But, the most interesting thing you notice is the small tan line around his ring finger. The advantage of the small classroom allowed for such details to be revealed, alongside knowing when he had taken a certain morning to do a fresh shave of his facial hair or spill a small spattering of coffee against his shirt, dull brown staining the white, crisp button-up he usually dawned alongside the occasional navy blue or black.

So, he was married—you assumed. He just didn’t wear his ring.

The more you indulged in him, the more complex he seemed. The ever mysterious J-something Miller, finding that no matter how hard you looked you couldn’t seem to find any information on him or an inkling of what his first name might be.

He must be a private person—no socials, no good deeds leading to news articles about him, or anything of tangible evidence to allow such information to seep out to the public. He was good at hiding, integrating himself in places he might not belong. He was a natural chameleon, much like yourself.

And you’d like to think you were good at writing considering you were attempting to pursue a career in it, mostly focusing on the aspect of screenwriting and film, not entirely sure what you were after but knowing that was where you wanted to go. You were great at convoluting things and empowering your far too creative imagination—often dangerous. You were never lacking in ideas, but your first assignment is a struggle.

It was something pertaining to non-fiction, a boring topic that Mr. Miller wanted to be intrigued by—he wanted something so mundane to be eye-catching and page-turning. Hanging on the edge of his seat, as he’d said so menacingly.

So, here you were, writing about the monogamous lives of certain breeds of penguins and they’re mates—whatever the fuck that was all about. It’s like he picked obscure topics for this very reason, the difficulty and the need for assistance. He wanted to help and you learned that quickly.

You could’ve been stuck with global warming, so it wasn’t all that bad. 

Mr. Miller is leaning against an empty desk as he’s talking to a student a few desks away—yeah, the unlucky one who snagged the global warming topic. His expression is sour, tapping his pencil against the desk rapidly as Mr. Miller talks quietly, nothing that you can make out. He travels around the room gradually, eventually landing on you with a raised eyebrow, seeing that you had some, if not very little outlined.

He looks amused, knowing how you were pulling an absolute fat nothing over this topic. You could sit there and lay out the facts, but that’s not what he wanted. He wanted it to be explained in a way that held you close and dragged you along. It all came down to wording, at the end of the day, and as much as you wanted to prove you were a decent writer, you still had a lot to learn.

“This is so stupid,” You gripe, looking up at him briefly before you continue to stare daggers into the notebook you were scribbling in, “—pardon my language, but what the fuck is this topic?”

Mr. Miller chuckles deeply at that, tongue poking at the inside of his cheek.

“I’ll let that slide but try not to make it a habit,” He comments, acknowledging your foul language and understanding the frustration, “—it’s meant to challenge you. The obscurity of it. It’s not complicated, but you don’t want to just write a research paper.”

“Isn’t that…exactly how non-fiction works?” You ask curiously.

“You’ve read biographies, right? Auto-biograhpies and all that?” 

You nod quietly.

“And I’m sure some of that caught your intention, right?” He asks and you respond with another nod, though meeker than before. “Non-fiction work is just as important as story-telling. Do some more research, explain why monogamy is sacred to them, explain their mating patterns, the behaviors—are you following?”

“Yeah—because some penguins mate for life, right?” You ask, feeling ridiculous asking him such an obscure question. “At least, I thought they did.”

“Most do.” Mr. Miller nods, “If you find yourself learning enough about the topic and actually finding some interest it won’t come out so…bland. Just look into it and write something you’d find intriguing to read, don’t stress over it that much. It’s just one assignment.”

It eases your worries slightly, but still, the frustration stuck.

“Okay,” You mumble, “Thank you.”

Mr. Miller offers a soft pat to your forearm as he nods silently in acknowledgment.

You were determined to make that assignment your bitch. Plain and simple.

-

Class discussion days are much easier. You switch between a certain selection of poems to snippets of scripts that Mr. Miller has pulled apart for the class to dissect and mince the words, learning how to write screenplays in a way that was both descriptive but directive and still managed to somehow keep the flow. Poems always seemed a little silly, but it was nice to debate the meanings and nuances of it all, always finding that you preferred to sit back and hear the thoughts of others until Mr. Miller decides he’s had enough one day—two months into the semester when he finally calls on you directly.

It was something he didn’t do often, but you find yourself going wide-eyed. He was always so polite to you, even when he’d catch you staring or lingering on his form for a moment too long, like he knew what you were thinking.

He was tall and—as was glaringly obvious, broad. His shoulders were immense and large as he extended his hands out and talked animatedly, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, slacks stretching over taut, tight muscle as he planted a foot in a nearby chair or stretched his stance out slightly as he stood—often finding it hard to stay still the longer class drew on.

You pull your attention to him, an innocent gaze glazing over your features.

“Why don’t you read the next poem?” He asks curiously.

“Oh—um,” Your eyes flick toward the poem book held tight in your grip, flitting to find the the place where the class last left off, so distracted you find yourself scrambling, but Mr. Miller is quick to lean over without much show or way of embarrassing you, pointing out the spot where the class last left of, blunt nail scratching against the paper as you follow the trail of his finger, you clear your throat and start:

“How should we like it were stars to burn

With a passion for us we could not return?

If equal affection cannot be,

Let the more loving one be me.”

The point was to interpret the words and form an explanation for why they were used, what they were trying to explain, but you lose any sense of thought when your eyes drag up to meet Mr. Miller and he’s staring right back, allowing you all the attention in the world.

Like no one else in the room existed. It was all a delusion in your own head, something you weren’t privy to then, but you believed whole-heartedly in the moment. He was just allowing you the floor and sharing you the same attention he had with everyone else. 

At least, that’s what he tried to do.

Mr. Miller clears his throat to subtly bring you back down to earth when he notices your mind fleeing from your body, asking an easy, “So, what do we think about this one?”

No one answered, staunchly disinterested as they stared at you, waiting for a response as you were the only one who had avoided participating all day.

“Uh, it—it sounds like the love isn’t being returned,” You start slow, dissecting the words in your brain as Mr. Miller nods, “but that person is willing to show up and offer more to make up for it, maybe even to their own…undoing, I guess.”

“There’s really no right or wrong,” He addresses the class as a whole but pointedly acknowledges your observation, “and that’s the best thing—you’re allowed to think as individuals and come up with your own conclusions. Good job.”

The final part is directed at you. It makes you feel warm, gooey—like you were being given a star for good behavior or gentle praise under the guise of friendly language.

You despise how hard it is to stay focused some days with how often Mr. Miller likes to pick on you and point you out—but he sees potential there. Real potential. Not to say that it isn’t within the rest of the class, he just sees…more. And it intrigues him in a way that feels dangerous, but he wants to ensure that you are given the proper support needed, even if that means a little extra attention.

It was harmless, after all.

-

Your first big assignment comes three months into the semester.

It’s a simple writing assignment but tactful and heavy, given a week to complete it before you were due to turn it in for a final grade. A collection of self-written poems, the outline for a possible script idea for a scene, and a small creative writing assignment that must include some kind of supernatural element. You appreciate the Mr. Miller never allowed things to lay stagnant with his work, always giving you something to think about.

And everyone loved him, that much was blatantly obvious. He was, easily, one of the hottest professors at the college for someone his age—you could only assume he was somewhere in his late 40s. But, there remained the unknown of if he was married, something people debated often, but you examined in the privacy of your own mind.

There was no indication of another—no pictures lingering on his desk as his classroom continued to collect belongings, no screensaver on his phone or laptop (because yes, you were observant) that gave you any idea of what his partner looked like. And he never mentioned anything outside of his own interest in literature. The curiosity with no discovery was only slightly disappointing, because despite that, Mr. Miller showed his attention toward you like you were the only person in the room.

And maybe it was like that for everyone, but it felt special to you. There was always a little extra to give to you that he didn’t offer to everyone else.

You turn in your assignment a few minutes before it is due, well into the late hours of the night.

-

Mr. Miller, unbeknownst to you, smiles when he sees the notification on his computer as he sits in his office at home, scrolling down the deep troves of porn in the darkened space, quickly clicking away to another browser as he hears the door creak, his wife poking her head through the crack with a smile.

“Hey, it’s late—you comin’ to bed soon?” Tess asks, eyes ringed with a deep exhaustion.

Joel nods, scratching at the side of his face, blinking tiredly. 

“Yeah. In a bit,” He excuses, “Just tryin’ to catch up on these assignments and then I’ll be done.”

It’s a lie, but she doesn’t need to know that.

Things had been rough since the affair—finding that Tess had been sleeping with her boss at her law firm for a few months, something she swore meant nothing, despite how long it dragged on in secret. Joel forgave her, mostly. They were managing, attempting the idea of marriage counseling, but he still couldn’t bring himself to put his wedding band back on, despite how proudly she wore hers still.

He had his own reservations on the matter and while he was trying to work things out, he wasn’t sure they could ever resume the same rhythm they had before, thinking that this was something he had for life, slowly crumbling and falling between his fingertips.

This was why he needed a change of pace, something different.

And maybe he was stupid for entertaining the obvious affection you showed toward him—he definitely was, but he does it anyways. It was playful, so meaningless and harmless that he didn’t even think twice about it. He could see you craved the attention and while he couldn’t be bothered to save that energy for Tess anymore, he could try to offer it to you.

Because you—you had so much potential. It was refreshing, seeing so much of his younger self in you, drive and dedication. The willingness to question stuff without fear.

He clicks on the email notification with your assignment, opening in a separate browser as he rises to lock his office door quietly, before returning to his other browser as he sat and unbuckled the thick leather belt around his waistband, a dignified zip that echoes throughout the confines of the office, reverberates and reminds him of his own loneliness.

And he shouldn’t picture your face as he finds himself aching and fucking deseprate into his fist, soft gunts muffled behind clenched teeth. But, he does. And he loves it.

He’s so fucked.

-

The comments on your assignment come a few days later, curled up in your bed in the small apartment you rented out, scrolling desperately to find out any further information on Mr. Miller but coming up with absolutely nothing. What a fucking ghost he was.

You’re curious, though—so you quickly switch to your emails to check his response and what your grade ended up being after how hard you worked to make sure it turned out perfect. Better than perfect actually. You hoped that with his obvious relationship woes he would appreciate the angst and underlying meanings in your poems, a bunch of bullshit you couldn’t relate to but hoped, on a whim, that he might.

‘Way to press on the idea of heartbreak, well done. Very expressive and real. Thank you for pouring those feelings into your work, though I hope no one has ever broken your heart that bad. Wonderful job.’

And he scores you a 90/100.

Which—whatever. You could accept it. Still, you wondered if those lingering ten points lied with him and his own bitter dealings. You’re fingers are curled around the laptop, ready to close when you get another notification blaring through your speakers.

You lift the laptop to stare at the screen, seeing an email come in from an unknown sender—though, the name grabs your attention immediately. First name, last name, followed by a series of number you can only assume is a birth year—not the school email Mr. Miller had previously sent you a response from.

You perk up, legs crossing over each other as you take a peek at the contents of the glaring email, seeing that it had links to a few books, followed by:

‘I hope you don’t mind my emailing you like this. But, I have a few pieces I think you may enjoy and would help with some of what you’re trying to convey in your writing. You have a beautiful way of expressing feeling and you should harness that. Let me know what you think. :)’

In hindsight, Joel should’ve never sent it. But, there was an urge there he couldn’t fight.

Maybe it was out of spite for his life and his wife betraying him, his urge to try and do some real good for someone, seeing that potential in you no matter how inappropriate it may be to go around school ruling and message you from his private email.

But, now you had a sliver of information. A peek into who Mr. Miller—Joel Miller, was.

It sends you down a spiral, searching and scouring for any information available online.

You find out that he’s 48…or 49, not entirely sure of his actual birthday. Only going off the year designated in his email. And that he’s a published author, but nothing of significance. He used to be a high school teacher and he was…or is, married. It’s all vague and unassuming, but it has your mind stirring. Wondering what was so interesting about him, what part of him had crawled into your mind and refused to get out.

And him messaging you on a private email—complimenting you with unnecessary eagerness, even when it wasn’t needed. You can’t be this delusional. There’s something there, even if neither of you have spoken on it explicitly.  

The faint touches and smiles traded, the hard-gazed looks and glances over his shoulder as he does a sweep of the room, always spending just a smidgen of extra time over your desk when you ask for help. 

It makes you feel special. And that’s exactly what you need.

-

You fall asleep that night with a wild idea in your head, wondering just how brave you could be in this situation. It burrows into your mind and seeps into your dreams:

You’re pressed against the edge of a desk in a dark office, the solid wood pressed flat against your cunt as you lean forward and capture the lips of the person in front of you, a shaky breath coming from their mouth.

“Want that pretty mouth ‘round my cock.” He says—your heart skips, nearly stops. 

You don’t know why you’re surprised to hear Joel’s voice, but it clears your mind and his hazy face finally comes into view in all of it’s intricate detail, right down to the soft crinkle of skin around his eyes, eyebrows furrowed as he pulls away to look at you, lips puffed from the kissing and seeming so innocent as he spoke in such a depraved manner.

Delicate fingers drag along the shape of your lips, stopping at your cupid’s bow before he’s pressing two fingers inside, grabbing the hand relaxed at your side and pressing it over the front of his slacks, the hard line of his cock pressing against the zipper.

There’s no other word to offer than intimidating, his size morphing any idea that you might’ve had–which, you did. His slacks are well-tailored, form fitting, and if he stretched just the right way in class you could see the head or outline of his cock press against the fabric for a split second….and you observed. A lot.

“Wanna stuff your mouth, huh?” He asks, eyes rolling back as his fingers press down on your tongue, quickly pulling out as he grips your face, spit spreading across your cheek, gasping at the suddenness of his movement. “Think it’ll fit?”

He sounds so condescending, eyeline over you but downcast on your figure from where your perched against his desk, idle hand exploring the soft, plush skin of your thighs as he drags his fingers along the full expanse of your cunt and it sets your whole body on fire, like you’re feeling everything dialed to an impossible level, every nerve in your body coming to life.

You shake your head meekly, gasping when he yanks you forward suddenly.

“Guess we’ll have to train that filthy mouth then, won’t we?” His eyebrow quirks up salaciously, earning a less than subtle grin as he presses his fingers into the wet spot of your underwear, not breaking the barrier but allowing you to feel the pressure.

And just as you feel yourself grabbing onto something tangible, hands gripped in the lapel of his suit jacket, pulling him impossibly closer, you’re startling awake with a gasp.

You could feel your imagination mixing with reality, falling lazily back against your bed as your chest heaved hurried breaths, palms pressed over your chest in an effort to calm down, covered in a thin sheen of sweat. The room was hot, too hot to feel comfortable anymore.

Your lip pulls between your teeth, chewing thoughtfully at a bad idea.

You reach blindly for your laptop laid out near the end of your bed, opening the device with a swiftness, squinting at the blinding screen that burned at this time of night.

Nearly two in the morning—this was pointless.

But, you hit reply on his email anyways and slowly type out a response.

‘Thank you for noticing, Mr. Miller. It’s greatly appreciated and I will definitely look into those sources and give you a full, detailed review. :) I appreciate you thinking of me as someone so esteemed. I would love to talk more about literature, if that feels appropriate.’

The lines were already blurred. He’d blurred them. You were just smudging them a little more.

You never said that starting fresh meant you had to stay on your best behavior. Because really, there was nothing innocent about what game was developing between you both.

It was a game of chess and you felt a million moves ahead, nearing a checkmate—and you would do anything to have Joel Miller in the way you craved. Anything.

[sexsylexi]

A confession in the gardens

Scott summers x Reader

The day had been long, and you could feel it in every muscle of your body. Teaching at the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters wasn’t for the faint of heart. Between managing a classroom full of mutant teenagers, guiding them through their abilities, and trying to maintain some semblance of order, you were exhausted. But it was the good kind of tired—the kind that came from knowing you’d done something meaningful.

The last bell of the day had rung, releasing the students from their lessons. Slowly, the sounds of the Institute shifted from the chaos of classes to the more subdued hum of free time. You found yourself lingering in the hallway, watching as the students dispersed in groups, some heading toward the common areas, others making their way to the gym or outside.

You took a deep breath, relishing the brief moment of peace. The scent of fresh-cut grass from the open windows mingled with the faint smell of chalk dust and old books, a comforting reminder of your day’s work. You were ready to head back to your room when you heard a familiar voice behind you.

“Hey, Y/N,” Scott Summers called out, his deep voice warm and clear. You turned to see him standing there, a small, boyish grin on his face. He was still wearing his instructor’s uniform, the dark blue fabric fitting snugly over his athletic frame. The ruby quartz glasses he always wore gleamed slightly under the hallway lights, masking the eyes beneath. “Got a minute?”

Your heart did a little flip in your chest. Scott Summers. The leader of the X-Men. The man with the burden of the world on his shoulders—and yet somehow, he had always managed to find a way to lighten your day, even if it was just with a quick smile or a thoughtful comment. You nodded, smiling back. “Of course. What’s up?”

Scott’s grin widened a little, and he took a step closer, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. “I was thinking… it’s been a rough week. For both of us. What do you say we take a break? Go for a walk in the gardens?”

The idea sounded perfect. The gardens at the Xavier Institute were vast and beautiful, filled with lush greenery, colorful flowers, and winding paths that seemed to stretch on forever. They were a little sanctuary away from the hustle and bustle of mutant training and saving the world. You’d always loved spending time there, and the thought of being there with Scott made your heart race a little faster.

“That sounds… really nice,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady, though you were sure Scott could hear the excitement. He had a knack for that—picking up on the things you tried to hide.

He smiled again, a bit softer this time, and nodded. “Great. Meet me out by the west gate in ten minutes?”

“Ten minutes,” you confirmed. Scott gave you a small, satisfied nod before turning and heading down the hall, his strides confident and purposeful.

You watched him disappear around the corner before letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. You quickly made your way to your room, freshening up just a little—changing out of your work clothes into something more comfortable, something that felt a bit more… date-worthy? You weren’t entirely sure if this was a date, but you couldn’t help the flicker of hope in your chest. Maybe it was just two colleagues relaxing after a long day, or maybe, just maybe, it was something more.

---

Ten minutes later, you found yourself at the west gate of the garden, the sun hanging low in the sky, casting everything in a golden hue. The air was cool but not cold, and a gentle breeze carried the scent of blooming flowers. You felt a flutter of nerves as you waited, but before you could worry too much, Scott appeared.

He looked different somehow. Relaxed. His usually stern expression was softer, his posture less rigid. He smiled when he saw you, and for a moment, it felt like the whole world fell away. He walked over, hands tucked casually into his pockets. “Ready?” he asked.

You nodded, feeling a smile spread across your face. “Ready.”

Scott led the way, opening the gate and letting you step through first. The garden was even more beautiful up close, the flowers in full bloom, the greenery vibrant and alive. You could hear the soft rustle of leaves in the wind, the distant chirping of birds settling down for the evening. It felt like stepping into another world, one far removed from the responsibilities and challenges of the day.

As you walked, Scott fell into step beside you, his arm occasionally brushing against yours. He seemed content to walk in silence for a moment, simply enjoying the peace of the garden. You, on the other hand, were acutely aware of every step, every breath, every tiny detail. The way the light caught his hair, the way his shoulders moved beneath his shirt, the faint scent of his cologne mixing with the fragrance of the flowers.

“I’ve always loved it here,” Scott said suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence. “The gardens. They’re one of the few places where I can actually relax, you know?”

You nodded, understanding completely. “I get it. It’s like… an oasis. Away from everything else.”

“Exactly,” he agreed, glancing over at you with that same boyish smile. “It’s easy to forget, sometimes, why we do what we do. But then I come here, and I see the students… I see you… and I remember.”

His words caught you off guard, and you felt a flush rise to your cheeks. “Me?” you asked, trying to keep your tone light. “What do you mean?”

Scott chuckled softly. “Yeah, you. You’re a reminder that this place, this school… it’s about more than just training and missions. It’s about people. Connections. Helping each other find our place in the world.”

You felt your heart swell at his words. There was something about the way Scott looked at you, even behind those ruby glasses, that made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time. “I think you do that more than you realize, Scott,” you said softly. “You’re always looking out for everyone. Sometimes… I wonder if you ever take time for yourself.”

Scott’s smile faltered a bit, and he looked down, as if considering your words. “I guess… I don’t always. But that’s what I’m trying to do now,” he said, his voice quiet but earnest. “I’m trying to take a moment for myself. For us.”

The way he said "us" sent a shiver down your spine. You felt a warmth spread through you, a mix of nerves and excitement. “I’m glad,” you replied, your voice barely more than a whisper.

He led you down a path lined with tall, fragrant roses. The sun was dipping lower now, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange. It felt almost surreal, like a scene from a dream. Scott paused by a small bench under a weeping willow, its branches hanging low and swaying gently in the breeze. “Want to sit?” he asked, motioning to the bench.

You nodded and sat down, feeling the cool stone beneath you. Scott sat beside you, close enough that you could feel the heat from his body, but not so close that it felt uncomfortable. There was a quiet moment, just the two of you sitting there, watching as the sun began to set.

“I’ve been thinking a lot lately,” Scott began, his voice soft, almost hesitant. “About… what I want. What I need. It’s easy to get caught up in everything here, to focus on the missions and the responsibilities. But I’ve realized… I don’t want to lose sight of the things that make life worth living.”

You turned to look at him, your heart beating faster. “What do you mean?” you asked gently.

Scott took a deep breath, and for a moment, you could see the weight of all the decisions he’d made, all the burdens he’d carried. “I mean… I don’t want to miss out on the good things. The small moments. The people who matter.” He turned to face you fully, and you could feel the intensity of his gaze, even through his glasses. “People like you, Y/N.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “Scott, I…”

He reached out, his hand finding yours, his fingers warm and firm around yours. “I know we’ve both been through a lot. I know things aren’t always easy here. But I want you to know that… I care about you. A lot. More than I think I’ve let myself admit.”

You felt a rush of emotion, a mix of joy and relief and something else, something deeper. “I care about you too, Scott,” you replied, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Scott’s smile was soft, genuine, and you could see the tension in his shoulders ease just a little. “I’ve wanted to say something for a while now,” he continued. “But I wasn’t sure how… or if I should.."

Scott’s voice trailed off, and you could see the struggle in his expression—the weight of everything unsaid. It was as if he was standing on the edge of a cliff, unsure whether to take the leap.

You felt a surge of bravery and squeezed his hand gently, giving him the encouragement he seemed to need. “Scott, you can say anything to me. I’m here. I’m listening.”

He took another deep breath, and this time when he spoke, there was a quiet determination in his voice. “I wasn’t sure if I should say something… because I wasn’t sure how you felt. I didn’t want to make things complicated for you, or for us here at the school. But… I think about you all the time, Y/N. I think about your smile, your laugh, the way you handle the students with so much patience and understanding. You make this place feel like home. You make me feel like… I’m not alone in all of this.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, every word he spoke sending ripples of warmth through you. You’d always admired Scott—for his strength, his leadership, his dedication—but hearing him speak so openly, so vulnerably, was something else entirely. It made you feel closer to him than ever before, like you were seeing a side of him that few people ever got to see.

“Scott,” you began, your voice trembling slightly with emotion. “I’ve felt the same way. I didn’t know how to say it either, or if I even should… but I think about you all the time too. I look forward to seeing you every day, to those moments when it’s just the two of us. You make me feel… safe. You make me feel like I belong.”

Scott’s face softened, a look of pure relief washing over his features. “You do belong, Y/N,” he said quietly, his thumb gently tracing circles on the back of your hand. “You’ve always belonged. I’ve just been too afraid to say it.”

You felt a smile spreading across your face, and before you knew it, you were laughing—a soft, joyous sound that seemed to fill the air around you. Scott joined in, his laughter low and warm, and suddenly all the tension seemed to melt away.

“I guess we’re both a little afraid, huh?” you teased, and Scott nodded, a smile still playing on his lips.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “I guess we are. But maybe… we don’t have to be anymore.”

He shifted closer on the bench, his knee brushing against yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. The garden around you was quiet now, the sun almost completely set, casting a soft, golden glow over everything. The air was cool, but you felt nothing but warmth as Scott leaned in, his free hand coming up to gently cup your cheek.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you could feel your heart hammering in your chest. Scott was so close now, his face just inches from yours. You could see the soft line of his jaw, the curve of his lips, the way his breath mingled with yours in the cool evening air.

“Y/N…” he whispered, his voice filled with a mix of hope and hesitation. “Is this… okay?”

You smiled, leaning into his touch. “More than okay,” you whispered back.

And then, slowly, as if afraid to break the fragile moment between you, Scott closed the distance, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, tentative kiss. It was gentle at first, almost like he was testing the waters, but then you kissed him back, a little firmer, a little bolder, and he responded in kind.

The world seemed to fall away around you, the only thing that mattered was the feeling of his lips on yours, the way his hand felt against your cheek, the way his other hand tightened slightly around yours, holding you close. The kiss deepened, and you felt a surge of warmth, a rush of emotions you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding back.

When you finally pulled back, you were both a little breathless, a little dazed, but you couldn’t stop smiling. Scott rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm on your skin. “Wow,” he murmured, a small laugh escaping his lips. “That… was worth the wait.”

You laughed too, feeling light and happy in a way you hadn’t in a long time. “Yeah,” you agreed. “Definitely worth the wait.”

Scott’s smile widened, and he leaned back a little, still holding your hand. “So… what now?” he asked, a playful note in his voice.

You thought for a moment, feeling a flutter of excitement in your chest. “Well,” you began, “I think we start by taking things one step at a time. See where this goes. Enjoy the little moments… like this one.”

Scott nodded, a look of contentment on his face. “I like the sound of that,” he said. “One step at a time. No rush. Just… us.”

You felt a swell of happiness at his words. “Just us,” you repeated softly, savoring the way it felt to say it out loud.

The two of you sat there for a while longer, just talking, sharing stories, and laughing together. The sun had set completely now, and the first stars were beginning to appear in the sky. You felt a sense of peace settle over you, a feeling of rightness that you hadn’t felt in a long time.

After a while, Scott stood up, pulling you gently to your feet. “Come on,” he said with a grin. “Let’s keep walking. There’s a spot by the lake that has the best view of the stars.”

You smiled, feeling a thrill of excitement at the thought of spending more time with him. “Lead the way,” you replied.

Scott took your hand again, his fingers warm and strong around yours, and together you walked deeper into the garden, the path ahead of you lit by the soft glow of the moon. You didn’t know what the future held, but for the first time in a long time, you felt hopeful—excited, even—about the possibilities.

As you walked, Scott began to talk, telling you stories about his childhood, about the first time he’d come to the Xavier Institute, and about all the things he’d seen and done since then. You listened intently, hanging on every word, feeling closer to him with each passing moment. You shared your own stories, too, and he listened with that same quiet attentiveness, his thumb occasionally brushing against your hand in a gentle, reassuring gesture.

By the time you reached the lake, the sky was a canvas of stars, bright and glittering against the dark velvet of night. Scott led you to a small clearing by the water’s edge, where the grass was soft and the view was perfect.

“Wow,” you whispered, looking up at the sky. “It’s beautiful.”

Scott nodded, his gaze fixed on you rather than the stars. “Yeah,” he agreed softly. “Beautiful.”

You felt a blush rise to your cheeks and looked away, smiling. “You’re not even looking at the stars,” you teased.

“I know,” he replied, his voice low and sincere. “Because I’d rather look at you.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you turned to face him, feeling a rush of affection and something deeper, something that felt a lot like love.

“Scott,” you began, your voice soft but steady, “I’m really glad we did this.”

He smiled, his expression filled with warmth. “Me too, Y/N. Me too.”

[dreamofjoys]

DAY 4 KINKTOBER 2023

7 min in heaven? More like 7 days inside you!

Main Masterlist + Rules / Next Day of kinktober (5)

A/N: Please read the rules on my kinktober 2023 main masterlist before proceeding. Rule breakers will be blocked.

Characters involved (separated): Malleus draconia(TWST), Wriothlesly(Genshin), Ayato(Genshin), Nanook(HSR), Luo Cha(HSR)

Sypnosis: After getting officially married, you and your husband decided to finally go to your long awaited 7 days honeymoon in a resort at private island specially reserved by your husband! Those 7 days were meant to be fun and relaxing, but why are you so tired by the end of it?

C/W: Thigh riding in public area(library), needy and horny reader but they just encourage you more lel, praising

BY OPENING THE TAB BELOW, YOU CONSENT TO READ DC/SMUT WRITING + HAVE READ THE RULES

Day 4 Scenario

It came as a shock to you and your husband that there happens to be a library in the middle of a private island, at a resort. It was the 4th day of your honeymoon and the both of you had decided to explore around the island. "Wife, is my eyes playing tricks on me, or is that a library that I see?" Your husband gestures to the small cottage in front at the side of the pathway. Upon walking closer to the cottage, the both of you realised that it was indeed a library. There was a wooden sign beside the cottage engraved with the words "Library". For the first time in the honeymoon, your husband was the one genuinely looking excited. He intertwines his fingers with yours before pulling you in to cottage. Knowing your husband's fondness with books, you giggled at his excitement, squeezing his hand to let him know that you were okay with going to the library. To your husband's delight, the library was indeed filled with a variety of local books that could not be found back home. He picks up an old book before swiftly plopping down on a nearby couch. "Wife, come here." He pats on his man spread thigh, urging you to sit on his lap. You pout at his clinginess, hand reaching up to the bookshelves and picking a random book before getting yourself comfortable on his lap. "This much more better mhm." Your husband rest his chin on top of your head while both of his arm were encircled around you, holding onto the book and reading it like a bookworm that he is. You knew that the both of you were probably gonna stay here for a few hours, so you went ahead to flip open the book that you had randomly picked out, hoping to pass time. The book that you were reading was rather...... interesting. It was a typical romance story between 2 high school students, except they were doing the deed in an empty classroom. Your face flushed in red when you read through the whole paragraph. The author had managed to write the scene in such a detailed and erotic manner, to the point where you can feel your wetness seeping through your folds, staining onto your panties and eventually wetting on your husband's pants. "Oh dear," your husband looks down at your book, reading the very same paragraph that had made you horny and needy on him. "That's quite a book there, wife."

𝗠𝗔𝗟𝗟𝗘𝗨𝗦 𝗗𝗥𝗔𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗜𝗔

He is quick to set his (and yours) book aside, hands planting onto your waist as he guides your body to grind your pussy on his thigh. "Don't be shy, just let out your inner desire, love." Malleus encourages, and his lips curls out into a smirk when your hips starts moving faster and faster.

A quiet moan slips out of your lips when the material of Malleus's pants rub against your sloppy folds. Malleus could feel his cock throbbing hard in his pants but he focuses on pleasing you instead, groping onto your breast and pinching on your nipples to give your extra stimulation.

"Oh dear," He mumbles, feeling a pool of wet stain soaking through his leather pants on the area that you are riding on. "Did you just came without telling me? No no, let's do it again."

𝗪𝗥𝗜𝗢𝗧𝗛𝗟𝗘𝗦𝗟𝗬

He pretends to not notice the pool of arousal that has been staining onto his pants for awhile. You would have thought that Wriothlesly wasn't aware of it, not until the arm that was wrapped around your waist purposefully dragging you closer to his body.

You blushed in embarassment when you saw your slick on Wriothlesly's pants, which was evident by a "dark stain". "Wife, you just made a mess on my pants." Wriothlesly chuckles, his hand switches to grab onto your hips, guiding it backwards and forward on his thigh.

The stains on his pants had grown in size, with a white blooch of cum on it. The obvious evident of your cum was painted on him. Despite your embarassment, Wriothlesly only laughed at you, hands still rocking you back and forth on his thigh.

𝗞𝗔𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗔𝗧𝗢 𝗔𝗬𝗔𝗧𝗢

"This feels like something we had done back home, isn't it?" Ayato smirks when you gradually starts on grind your cunt on him, small moans spilling out of your lips when the rough material of his pants rubs deliciously against your sex, sending waves of pleasures down your spine.

Grinding on Ayato's thigh was something that the both of you had been frequently doing whenever Ayato was busy with his work. It was something that allows him to get intimate with you while getting his work done on time. Like always, he would coo at you and praise you for being his good wife, knowing how to satisfy the sexual needs of your husband and yourself.

And now, even when you are both on vacation, he encourages you to grind your slutty sex on him more, rubbing on your clit so that you can chase onto your high faster.

𝗡𝗔𝗡𝗢𝗢𝗞

He can smell your arousal before it even starts staining onto your panties.

"Are you getting turned on by this book? Should we recreate this scene?" Nanook grunts when the smell of your arousal gets stronger and stronger, indicating that his suggestion was something that you indeed wanted.

However, he was an Aeon of Destruction for a reason. What's the use of upholding such a prestige title if he doesn't destroy first?

"Baby, grind on me and I will give you my cock." Nanook's lips curls up into a sinister smirk when you start rocking your hips back and forth on his thigh, whining about how mean he is to you. "Why can't you just give it to me first?" You pout, trying to act cute and hoping that Nanook would falter at your antics but he doesn't.

"You won't get it until you cum on my thigh."

𝗟𝗨𝗢 𝗖𝗛𝗔

Luo cha enjoys teasing you a little too much. He knows that you are horny, and yet he pretends to not know about it. His attention "returns" back to his book, letting you sit on his thigh flushed, needy and embarassed.

However, he would occasionally jerk up his thigh, letting the fabric of his pants brushed onto your clothed sex. Luo cha would apologise for the inconvenience, saying that he needed to stretch his leg muscle.

He can feel your sex throbbing in need, your slick already making a mess on his pants. Maybe if you tell him that you need him, then he will indulge you a little?

[storm-angel989]

Haiii!! Pretty weird request but can u do valentinos child that is diabetic having troubles at school because they didn’t get enough sugar in their body?

P.S (LOVE UR STUFFFF 🩷🩷🩷)

Hi there,

Thank you so so much!! I don’t have any personal experience with diabetes, but I did some research and I hope I did your request justice!

<3 Mandy

Valentino hated being interrupted in the middle of his shoots. 

Small annoyances, poor lighting, bitchy models, addicts that wanted nothing more than a quick fix. All of these things added up to time lost in the middle of a shoot. As such, he kept his phone on silent, and any emergencies were diverted directly to Vox. 

Except of course, emergencies regarding his daughter. 

When his phone rang and he saw the school's number, he immediately jumped from his director's chair and slammed his office door shut behind him.

“Valentino speaking.” He answered curtly. 

Not to his surprise, the school nurse answered back. Valentino closed his eyes as he listened to her explain that his daughter seemed to be struggling to get her blood sugar stable. At the first beep of her VoxTech watch, she had drank a juice box from her snack kit they kept in the classroom. However, when the number hadn’t risen in ten minutes, she had been escorted down to the nurses office. Apparently, she was refusing a second juice box, or a snack. Valentino fumbled with his phone as he put it on speaker. A quick click of an app, and her numbers from the morning flashed. His heart sank- consistent lows. 

“She’s asking to talk to you, Mr. Valentino,” the nurse finished. 

“Go ahead, put her on,” he said quickly. 

A soft rustle as the line and his daughter's voice.

“Daddy? Daddy, can you come get me? I don’t feel so good,” she said softly. 

“Baby. Listen to me. I will come get you, but I need to drink another juice box before I hang up the phone,” he replied as he stood up. 

“Daddy, I don’t want to,” she muttered.

“Then put one of the candies under your tongue and let it dissolve, can you do that for me?” He asked as he strode out his office door. 

“Yes,” she muttered. 

“Good. Do that. I’m on my way to get you,” he replied sternly. “Listen to the nurse.”

“Yes, Daddy,” she muttered. 

Six minutes later, he walked into the school and down the familiar hallway to the nurses office. Though, as he passed by the classrooms, he realized it had been two months since he last picked his daughter up for blood sugar issues. He supposed the system they developed at the beginning of the school year really was making a difference. After all, picky eaters and diabetes didn’t mesh well. 

It was the school nurse who suggested and guided the creation of a system where his daughter gained the freedom to choose different types of snacks and juices she could reach for to help her manage her lows. Even more than just choosing what the snacks were, the nurse suggested Reader help label each snack so she could choose what she needed based on what her numbers were. At home, the system was the same and it seemed to Valentino that, besides this hiccup, Reader was flourishing in her independence.

Of course, Reader was still in Elementary school. The nurse still had access to the data her VoxTech watch monitored in regards to her highs and lows, and saw her several times throughout the day. At night, he and the other Vee’s reviewed the data as a whole and discussed any areas they saw problematic.  

“Daddy,” she whimpered when he walked into the room. She rolled off the cot and rushed towards him. “Daddy.”

He lifted her up and tucked her against his chest before walking over to the school nurse. He opened the app on his phone and to his relief, her blood sugar was back in the normal range. 

“Baby, what’s wrong? It’s not like you to not listen to your body,” he muttered as he rubbed her back. 

“My tummy hurts,” she whined into his shoulder. “Daddy, I don’t feel good.” 

“The stomach bug is going around. It might be a good idea for her to go home and rest,” the nurse suggested. “I can have someone bring her backpack down.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Valentino agreed. 

As soon as they walked into the apartment, Valentino carried his daughter to the bathroom. 

“Alright baby, let’s do a manual check, just to make sure the numbers are lining up,” he told her.

“Daddy, noo, I hate the stick,” she whined as she wrapped her arms around him. 

“I know. But think about how happy Uncle Vox will be that we’re taking responsibility and making sure that his technology is accurate!” Valentino said as cheerfully as he could. 

Reluctantly, she released him and he sat her on the counter. He took her hand in his.

“Quick pinch, mi amore,” he promised. 

He hated the tears that he knew would follow. As soon as the bandage was wrapped around her finger, he lifted her into his arms as he read the number.

“Good news, the numbers match,” he told her as he held her to him. “And your sugar is normal. Come on baby, let’s go lay down.” 

He laid down on her bed and to his relief, she fell asleep almost instantly. Valentino opened his app and switched it into nighttime mode as he snuggled his daughter. It had taken him a long time to realize that not every high or low was an emergency that required him rushing to his daughters side. The older she grew, the more comfortable he was turning off those alerts- especially when she was at school. However, he had come to the conclusion that he would probably never be comfortable without those alerts overnight. He considered it too much of a risk. 

“Hey, how’s the baby?” Vox’s soft voice came across the room.

“Unsure if we have the stomach bug or not yet- might want to stay over there,” Valentino warned. 

Vox made a face. “Gross. Duly noted. Text me if you need anything I’ll be sure to push it in with a ten foot pole.”

Valentino rolled his eyes but reached over and turned on the TV. Definitely a good idea to rest while she was sleeping.

[writing-in-the-impala]

Secret Smokes (Part 4)

Pairing: Teacher! Remus Lupin x Reader

Series Summary: When the reader bumps into the new DADA professor on the bridge in Hogwarts she begins to build a friendship with him all thanks to their shared feeling of not belonging and love for muggle cigarettes. Their friendship blooms while they both fight internal battles deciding what is wrong and what is right leading to a lot of fluff, angst, flirting and a rollercoaster of emotions.

Warnings: Swearing, Drinking, teacher-student relationship (but like it’s all legal chill), SLOWburn we’re in for a long ride

Word Count: 3307

A/N: I know I always say I love you all, but I am blown away by all your support on each chapter. Comments are appreciated I love hearing your thoughts, it helps guide me in what direction to take the story! Anyway get ready we're starting to get a bit angsty in this chapter....

 | SERIES MASTER LIST (All chapters) |

Previous Chapter, Part 4, Next Chapter

Over the weekend you and the twins did manage to go to Hogsmeade you didn't really need anything for your prank but it was nice to get out of Hogwarts for a bit. You walked around and browsed the shops, making a stop at Honeydukes for some tiny black pepper imps, fragile sugar-spun quills and exploding bonbons. The twins assured you all of this would be useful for future pranks. Before heading back to the castle Fred suggested a quick stop at the Three Broom Sticks and all of you thought it was a great idea. You sat down at a corner table that you loved as it gave you a view of the whole place, you could gossip about all the people there especially teachers. After ordering your drinks you saw a familiar face walk in "Guys looks it's Lupin with the library lady." Fred mentioned.

"Irma Pince?" You questioned maybe slightly too loudly as you watched them walk in, at this moment Lupin's eyes met yours and he gave you a gentle, distant, smile to acknowledge your presence. He held the door for her like a gentleman, pulled the chair out for her before sitting down, very old fashioned you thought. Your eyes didn't leave them until George began to speak again.

"Do you think they're on a date?" George asked.

"Surely not." You answered too quickly.

"What if they know about our prank." You whispered.

"Even if they did why would they out of all people meet here just them to discuss it." George questioned you.

"Maybe Lupin found out and he wants to warn her." You tried to think of any reason apart form a date why he would bring her here.

"Find out from who? There's no chance. It's definitely a date." Fred stated.

"Y/N is just jealous." George stated.

"Who doesn't have the hots for Lupin? We're all jealous." Fred said jokingly.

Your eyes were glued to the pair as Lupin ordered a drink for the two of them, your eyes once again met his and you immediately diverted your gaze to the glass in front of you. "I think we should make the prank bigger." You blurted out.

"Now you're talking. What are you thinking?" Fred asked.

"I don't know, we hex the whole library somehow make everyone who entered there regret it." You didn't know where this sudden hate and anger towards the library came from but the twins enjoyed scheming and you began devising a plan to make it a better, bigger prank. You kept gazing towards Lupin throughout the conversation watching his interaction, he seemed happy, they spent the whole time chatting or maybe discussing. He was dressed more casually then usual, in a shirt and sweater over it but he didn't looks like he dressed up just like he wanted to be more comfortable, you hated yourself for analysing him so much but you struggled to look away. When you were leaving you didn't notice him looking at you the same way and thinking the same thoughts about you.

The weekend ended a bit too quickly and you were back to sitting in classrooms all day waiting for the day to finish, you nearly forgot about your extra DADA lesson in the afternoon but Lupin sent you an owl during breakfast with a reminder. You made your way to his class after a very boring positions lesson with conflicted feelings, you didn't want to do extra lessons but at least it was with him. You knocked on the door gently and heard a soft "come in" from inside. All the desks were already moved against the wall leaving a large open space, Lupin was sitting at his desk at the front of the room grading some papers it seemed he greeted you with a warm smile. "Glad to see you didn't bail Miss L/N."

"I would've forgotten if it wasn't for your owl if I'm being honest." You admitted.

"How was your weekend?" Lupin asked politely. "Uneventful, it went by quicker than expected. Yours?" Lupin sorted the stack of papers he had putting it to the side. "Mine was pleasant, I had a meeting with Irma Pince I'm trying to get more muggle books introduced into the library taking, inspiration from you actually, I think not only will it help muggle born students feel more at home I think it'll be good for everyone to have some diversity." Great so you caused them to have a date, you thought to yourself.... Or maybe it wasn't a date at all just a professional meeting. "And how's that going?" You asked. "Horribly, she's a stubborn old woman stuck in her ways. But I think with a little more convincing I might succeed. We'll see." He said honestly.

"So how does this work? Do you give me spells to practice I do them and then that's it?" You wanted to change the topic. "I thought we'd focus on your weaknesses," Lupin stood up and walked in front of the desk leaning on it. His tie was loose and the top two buttons of his shirt were undone. "I am aware that the practical side is a weakness of yours now two core thing I want to cover with you before Christmas is your Patronus charm and your defensive spells, starting with the latter." 

Lupin began by turning on the record player with music he then began teaching you the hand movements and starting to talk to you about posture and how you should be acting during casting these spells, at moments he got quite close to you even once holding your arm from behind to help you figure out the movement, the feeling of his chest pressed against your back and his arm on your hand send shivers through you making you feel a bit hot and bothered. By the end of your hour with Lupin you wanted to stay in the room keep going because you were enjoying yourself and the fun dynamic. He was gentle and helpful and really cared about helping you. He expressed that these spells aren't just for your exams but rather to protect you navigating the wizarding world. After the hour was up you thanked Lupin for the lesson and left the room with a quick "see you later."

After dinner you headed straight for the bridge to meet Lupin, he wasn't there when you arrived and you began to think he won't show today but he did walking up with his hand in his trouser pockets and a soft look on his face. "You know Y/N you don't have to come here to meet me everyday especially after I've just forced you to spend some of your evening with my in my classroom." He stood next to you leaning over the side but looking at you, not lighting a cigarette. "You make it sound like it's torture to spend time with you profesor." He laughed at your comment. "Besides this isn't like spending time with a teacher this is Lupin not the same guy who teaches DADA." You continued. "How so? What's the big difference?" He pushed.

"Well this guy encourages bad behaviour, he's a good laugh, he encouraged me to actually care about school." You began. "That last one sounds like something a teacher would do." Lupin interrupted.

"That's true, but it's different. Can I tell you something honestly?" You asked vulnerable and Lupin gave you a go on nod. "I see you, as in you who I meet right here as someone I can trust and call a good friend. I feel like your someone I can really trust in, don't get me wrong I have friends but I feel like you understand me in a different way, you understand everything I struggled with over the last few years at Hogwarts the isolation, the-"

"Y/N..." Lupin interrupted. "Sorry I got a bit too deep, I probably shouldn't have said anything." You said in embarrassment. "No Y/N, I appreciate every word. And I appreciate your honesty, if we're both being honest right now I agree completely. It's my first time teaching here and it's weird all my old teachers are now my colleagues and now I'm the old guy do you know how soul crushing that is? I felt so alone moving here all my friends have turned into people I can only see on weekends as I'm stuck on school grounds. But you were someone who decided to speak to me like a human not like a profesor or like a past student and it was so refreshing. Although I don't think I've ever smoked this much in my life." He laughed to himself. "We're both losers." You replied laughing. "What are your friends like?" You asked honestly. Lupin began telling you about Harry's parents and about Sirius Black and how they were school friends and now they're the most important people in his life. He talked openly about missing them but knowing that working at Hogwarts had given him opportunities he wouldn't have had anywhere else. Around 10pm Lupin checked his watch and realised he's kept you up with his stories past curfew, this was the moment you realised you had a prank to pull so you said goodbye to Lupin and made your way back to see the twins.

The twins were both sitting in the common room on one of the sofas as soon as you walked in they both jumped up. "We've been waiting for you." They said in unison. "You need to stop flirting with boys all night we have work to do Y/N." Fred stated. "Everything is ready we've got Harry's invisibility cloak we just need the map." George reached his arm out and you handed him the map. Around midnight you set off towards the library, once you were inside it was completely empty it was pretty cool to be there in the middle of the night, you straight away began jinxing the books it took a while to do all of them but thinking of new ways you can jinx each book made it a little bit more fun. You were maybe making a bit too much noise as you noticed on the map Filch was walking towards you. The three of you quickly jumped under the cloak of invisibility and went left the library, Filch ran past you and went into the library "Students out of bed." He shouted as he ran into the library but then he saw no one you wanted to laugh but you kept silent as you began to walk back to the Gryffindor dorm rooms. You heard Filch's voice complaining out loud behind you approaching you as your turned the corner, you were moving very slowly as you were trying to stay completely covered as you walked down the corridor. "What's wrong Filch?" You heard a familiar voice coming towards you from the opposite direction.

"Students out of bed profesor, they're hiding in the library." Filch said standing right next to you. Now Lupin was standing so close that if you breathed to loudly you were sure he'd hear. The three of you froze the twins shut their eyes probably to avoid laughing you stood there watching. "Now Filch why would students sneak around at this time of night to go to the library?" Lupin asked amused, it felt like he could see right through the cloak of invisibility.

"I could hear their voices." Filch replied.

"Okay." He looked right where you were standing almost making eye contact with you. "Let go check Filch come on." He said and they walked away from you and you felt like you could finally breathe, you ah the twins practically ran back to the dorm as sons as they were out of sight. When you returned, you began laughing about how you nearly got caught thankful that you didn't.

The next day at lunchtime is when the announcement came about your prank profesor McGonagall was the one to break the news "it has come to our attention that last night a group of students decided to jinx the library, now if anyone knows any information about this we urge you to come forwards..." she began her speech. Throughout the whole speech it felt like Lupin was staring at you and the twins. "Do you think he knows?" You asked them on your way out the hall.

"How could he?" George began. "We were under the cloak the whole time there's no way." Fred finished. You went on with your day and luckily no one knew it was you and the twins who pulled off the prank, every teacher would remind the class after the lesson that the library is closed and to come forward with any information during your DADA lesson you felt like Lupin was acting a bit different you didn't know if your conversation with him last night caused it or if he knew about the prank. During his own speech about how the library is closed it felt like his eyes were glued to you, you were confident he knew somehow. That evening he didn't show up to the bridge, you checked a marauders map and he wasn't in Hogwarts at all you felt wrong checking the map but you wanted to know if he went to the bridge after you left.

The next day after your lessons you had your DADA extra session, you went to the class like last time and just as before when you entered the tables were all moved to the side of the classroom. Lupin was sitting behind his desk as before and looked up to you to greet you "Good afternoon Y/N." He simply said.

"Afternoon Professor." You replied he was wearing his shirt properly buttoned up and his tie all the way up a lot more profesional looking than last time. "Today we'll be working on counter-jinxes as I believe you've already mastered jinxes let's see if you can counter them." He stated pulling out a pile of books onto the table, books from the library... "Luckily we have a lot of jinxed books that some students gracefully prepared for us." He handed you the pile of books. "So you want me to remove the jinxes this feels more like detention than tutoring." You felt annoyed at how he was treating you suddenly. "Why would you get detention unless you were the one who jinxed these books, no I don't want you to remove those jinxes I want you to open the books and use a counter jinx to protect yourself from whatever the books have to offer."

"But how am I meant to do that? I don't even know what will come out of them." You were scared of some of the things that the twins may have made the books do. "That's the point, that's the challenge." Lupin said. "You're not making this easy when I have no idea what to do, all I know is how to remove the jinx all together." You stayed in annoyance. He took a book, opened it and preformed a counter-jinx. "See that easy, now imagine you're in the library and you open a book a jinx comes out how do you defend yourself." He hands you a book and you look at it, it's one that you had jinxed so you knew what to expect and knew what spell to preform. Lupin seemed shocked at how well you did he probably wanted you to fail. "Not many people can think of a specific counter jinx before seeing what the book is jinxed with you know." He said simply. "I'm a faster learner." You replied and Lupin handed you a book on Herbology. "Very well, again." This one you didn't know the jinx so you opened the book slowly but you still didn't manage to use the correct counter jinx and you got completely covered in dirt and leaves. Lupin couldn't hold in his laugh at your state and you laughed along with him. "Okay now the first thing you need to know about counter jinxes-"

"Hold on you just wanted me to get jinxed before you began to teach me?" You questioned. "If you're going to jinx a book at least be able to protect yourself from it." He winked at you after saying it. "I didn't jinx this book." You began to wipe all the dirt off your face and Lupin handed you a tissue. "No but you jinxed that one." He pointed to the first book you opened. "You can't possibly know that."

"All I want to know is why Y/N? Because the way I see it is I tell you I'm trying to get muggle books into the library and that very night you and the Weasley twins go in and jinx every single book. No don't deny it, I was already sure that I sensed you there, and with how you knew what was in that book you provided it. Now believe me I appreciate the commitment to getting every, single, book. However I was doing something to try and help you and instead you decided to completely jeopardise it. If Pince ever finds out you were part of the efforts there will never be a muggle book allowed in the school even less so the library do you understand?" You had never seen Lupin so annoyed.

"Profesor, I'm sorry. I truly am, I don't know if it'll make you feel any better but this had nothing to do with you or Pince. I didn't even consider how this would affect you we just thought it would be funny and a great first prank of the year. We had this planned before, when we saw you in the pub with Pince we thought you had somehow found out and you were warning her and then we decided you couldn't know and that you guys are on a date" Lupin nearly chocked on the cup of tea he was drinking when you said the last part. "Me and her? On a date? Look I've made some odd romantic choices in life but I have some level of standards. Thank you for your apology Y/N, I may have taken it a bit personally especially after our conversation on Monday night, now let's begin before we spend the whole hour talking. So to perform a counter jinx..." There was no more mention of your prank and no more mention of anything personal profesor Lupin mode was on and he was back into teaching you still shared a few moments of laughing and a few jokes especially when you were victim to jinxed books but apart from that it was purely professional. When the lesson finished Lupin informed you that he is cancelling Fridays session as he will be away over the next few days he apologised and you simply replied with, "so no smokes on the bridge?" His facial expression became soft and he gave you a smile. "Unfortunately you'll have to wait until I'm back dear." He winked and then looked mortified with his own words as he opened the door for you it was as if he said that last word by accident he quickly continued with. "Have a lovely rest of the evening Y/N." and that was the last time you saw him for a few days, it was because of the full moon. You had already figured out after the first few months that whenever the full moon was approaching he wouldn't come to the bridge and then after the full moon he would get Snape to cover his lessons. You should've known straight away when he said he sensed you it meant he could smell you or even hear you from a distance that's why he knew that it was you hidden under the cloak of invisibility.

NEXT CHAPTER | More stuff I wrote

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[flyingwargle]

whumptober day 1: panic attack

tw: panic attacks

iwaizumi knew today is going to be a bad one from the moment he woke up.

every step is akin to torture, leaden limbs refusing to cooperate with even the slightest movement. his gaunt expression stares back at him in the mirror, faintly encouraging him to take a day off. this wouldn't be the first time, nor the last, but the team has a practice match after school. their ace can't afford a mental health day, not when victory is on the line.

"morning, iwa-chan!" oikawa meets him on the corner of their block, a routine they've had since they were old enough to walk to school together. his best friend's chipper expression falls at iwaizumi's slumped shoulders and downturned eyes. "you look awful, even worse than usual. bad day?"

he nods. oikawa's smile is small, stretching his arm toward him. iwaizumi takes his hand, reassured by its strength, and lets him guide him to school.

morning practice is on the lighter side, which iwaizumi is grateful for. it's easy to turn his brain off for drills, guided by muscle memory and instinct. oikawa isn't as loud as usual, which is his teammates' cue that their ace is at the mercy of his anxiety, curbing their exuberance for his benefit.

at the end of practice, they change into their uniforms and head for the school building. oikawa hands iwaizumi a protein bar, leaves him with a gentle pat on the shoulder when they separate to their respective classrooms.

the buzz in his mind worsens as the day passes. iwaizumi doesn't retain anything from his lectures, barely takes any notes. at lunch, he stares at his bento while oikawa, hanamaki, and matsukawa chatter, ultimately reaching for the lid to put it away, untouched. that causes all conversation to cease, earning him an incredulous look from oikawa. "what?"

"you have to eat, iwa-chan," he says, stopping his hand. "we had morning practice, and a game after school. you need the energy."

"i'm not-"

"did you take your meds?" hanamaki asks.

he shakes his head. “they make me drowsy. i can’t fall asleep now.”

"i think that's better than this," matsukawa comments, gesturing with his chopsticks. "you aren't in any condition to play, anyway."

"i'll be fine," iwaizumi insists. "hanamaki is still out with his rolled ankle, and kunimi is absent. what kind of message are we sending, if all our regular spikers aren’t on the court?”

“it’s just a practice match,” oikawa points out. “it isn’t the end of the world, iwa-chan.” and yet, he can’t help but feel like it is, a tremor shaking his body at the idea of sitting out because of his anxiety. he isn’t that fragile. he can push passed this.

or so he thinks.

the end of the school day comes, and iwaizumi is back in the gym. jouzenji will arrive in an hour; in the meantime, he hardens his expression, directs his underclassmen and speaks with oikawa to finalize their line-up. “iwa-chan, you-“ he turns away, ignoring the rest of oikawa’s words to help their managers with the practice bibs.

jouzenji arrives, and after a quick warm-up, the match begins. iwaizumi starts in the back row, ready to receive. his heartbeat echoes in his ears, nearly drowning the whistle. the serve goes up, the ball flying across the net straight toward him.

shit, the ball is flying straight toward him. panic rises in his chest, raising his arms to receive, but it’s at an awkward angle, and it bounces out of bounds. the first point comes to jouzenji.

his heart lurches at the astonished looks around him. matsukawa claps his hands. “don’t mind,” he calls out. watari echoes him. the others turn away. iwaizumi gives a quick apology, avoiding oikawa’s eye.

watari picks up the second serve, and oikawa sets the rhythm. they go back and forth, and iwaizumi is rotated to the front. matsukawa serves, their opponents picking it up. matsukawa receives their spike, and iwaizumi makes his approach. he jumps, raises his arm. his fingers barely brush the ball.

it falls back on their side. iwaizumi looks at oikawa, hands still over his head. “iwa-chan-“ he tries to say.

“sorry. i’ll score the next one.” his limbs are still so heavy. same with his chest.

after a few rallies, he’s jumping for the spike again. a triple block rises over him, the ball floating in front of him. he musters his strength and spikes, a satisfying smash that echoes in his ears. except, the ball rebounds off the block and back onto the court. a point for jouzenji.

a chorus of don’t mind! arises. iwaizumi braces himself on his knees, breathless. he hears his opponents murmur behind him. are you sure that’s seijoh’s ace? was he always this pathetic? there are snickers and declarations of victory. his team is three points behind, jouzenji the first to reach 20. he hasn’t scored a single point, squandering every chance, being absolutely useless–

“iwaizumi.”

coach. he beckons him with his finger, and iwaizumi stumbles toward him. “i don’t want you to play in this condition. take a break.”

“i’m fine, i just–“

“it isn’t a suggestion, but an order. sit out.”

iwaizumi freezes. his replacement takes his place on the court. instead of sitting with hanamaki on the bench, he drags his feet to the locker room, shoving the door open, and sinking onto the nearest bench.

the anxiety that’s been building since the moment he woke up finally claims him.

his breaths are short. the air is sweltering. his chest hurts with every gasp, tears at the corners of his eyes. he squeezes them shut, tries to count his breaths like his therapist taught him, but his thoughts run rampant, a deafening symphony that makes him feel smaller and smaller.

you’re useless. you just left your team behind without scoring a single point. what kind of ace are you? useless, failure, don’t deserve to play, weak, weak, weak–

“hajime.” a voice cuts through the darkness, a bridge of light through the spiral. “hajime, listen to me, okay? let’s get your breathing under control, hm?”

iwaizumi gasps like a fish out of water. the voice is unperturbed, counts his breaths with a measured tone. a hand rests on his back, rubbing counterclockwise circles. “you’re doing well,” the voice soothes. a handkerchief touches his cheeks to dry his tears. “you’re safe with me, iwa-chan. you’re doing so well.”

that makes him open his eyes. he’s still in the locker room, oikawa seated beside him, still in his practice uniform, #1 bib over his shirt. iwaizumi tries to speak, his words caught in his throat. oikawa places a finger on his lips, shaking his head. “don’t talk, just breathe. it’s just us. take your time.”

the last of his panic recedes, leaving him boneless, as always. iwaizumi leans against oikawa, fresh wave of tears springing in his eyes. “why’re you here?” he rasps.

“do you really think i’d keep playing, knowing my best friend is having a panic attack? yahaba-chan is a good setter, you know. mattsun can take care of the team; we’re heading home.”

“what? but-“

“no buts. we’re going home and you’re going to take your meds. i asked makki to text auntie what happened, so she’ll make your comfort food, and i’ll feed you. then, you’re going to sleep. i’d say take a bath too, but that can wait.” oikawa turns to him, expression solemn. “it was dumb of you to play like this, iwa-chan. just because you aren’t physically hurt doesn’t mean you can pretend you’re fine.”

iwaizumi deflates. he used to give oikawa so much shit about overworking, but when it came to his own mental health, he always pushed through, even if it left him exhausted or worse, panicked. “sorry,” he mumbles.

oikawa shakes his head. “there’re more matches, you know. it’s okay to sit out when you have to. ready to go?” he stands first, supporting iwaizumi every step through changing and then out of the locker room. they leave with the match to their backs, the sounds of the court reminding iwaizumi of what’s to come, but only if he cares for himself better.

he’ll learn. he has to.

[ranposbabe]

Delightful | William James Moriarty x Reader

Chapter 10

Question after question after question.

Yet you wouldn’t receive any answers.

Perhaps it was due to the fact that you could only have the courage to think about them and not even consider whispering them let alone saying them aloud for others to hear.

You definitely won’t find answers here that’s for certain. So far you hadn’t been successful but then again up till now u weren’t actively searching for the truth due to shock. You’re still in shock of course but it is evident that it’s beginning to numbing. There’s no one to confide in. Even if there was you weren’t sure of who or even where to find them.

Either way you knew it wasn’t a pub or a market.

There’s nothing here in the manor that will solve it. That was proven rather quicker when you first met William rather upbrutly. You’re just glad the situation hasn’t been brought up since. Come to think of it you were also glad you hadn’t seen Albert of late since you did in fact finish his bottle of wine that night. You didn’t even consider how expensive it was.

But you were desperate and where can desperate people find answers when they no longer have access to a phone ?

Books. “I know !” You practically jump up from the small bed.

“I’ll pay William a visit !”

From what you understood, William is a mathematician. Of course maths couldn’t help you get anywhere but a university must have books in other fields of subjects. Maybe just maybe you’d find something small to help guide you on your way. But as you managed to find yourself there you couldn’t help but look all around you to stare on in awe.

It was so different compared to your own personal experience in education.

Well obviously, it wasn’t like you ever attended the university of Durham but still.

People were walking around rather cheerfully in groups chatting loud as the rarely bright sun shined down on all. An atmosphere you’ve never really experienced before. The architecture also slightly threw you off. From what you remembered from your time buildings like this were extremely old and new buildings were plain and simple, practically dull compared to the old ones.

But how were you suppose to find the library if you couldn’t run into every single room of the building ? It would only take a matter of time before you’d be recognised as a trespasser. “Come on lads !” You hear from near you in the courtyard.

You were quick to run around a corner, making sure to not be noticed.

Hiding behind a wall, you peek around to only spot a young student walking towards two other students, looking rather eager.

“We have professor Moriarty’s class soon !”

Your eyes widen at their words. You were quick to follow them from a distance. You watched on as the students walked into you assumed a classroom.

But just as they walked in they were quick to leave again. You assume maybe they had time until class started so they simply left they’re belonging in the room so they could go continue freely about for however long. You took slow steps into the empty classroom, simply blown away at the sight. You weren’t sure what you were expecting but definitely not this.

The room was too enormous to process, you struggled to believe this was a genuine classroom.

Even when you timidly walked upon the high steps onto the balcony, you couldn’t believe the quality of the room.

Your fingers run against the wooden bannister. Of course as you sat down there was now only one thing to do.

Sleep.

As some time passed your eyes begin to flutter and your senses heighten at the sound of chatter. You nearly gasped when you realised. The class was currently taking place. When you looked down you could only stare on at the sight of William teaching seemingly a dozen students.

Maybe it was near the end of the class ? You hoped it was. You did contemplate just simply walking out but you were quick to realise the room was filled with just young men and you would stick out like a sore thumb if you left now.

But you couldn’t help but wonder how did no one notice you at all ? You were sat at the very back off on the side where you’d actually stand out more so were no students bored of this class ?

You were and you’re not even a student.

There was no way that William was teaching that good that no student of his was bored ? Was he ?

Even when you squint your eyes to no avail, you still couldn’t make out what was on the board. He looked so…confident. In himself. He didn’t speak quietly and his voice wasn’t demanding yet it was clear and from what you could tell just by peering at the students even though some seemed tired they all listened and watched William like a hawk.

For a moment you could only lay your head in your arms in defeat as you realised that you were stuck here.

You didn’t really think about him having that effect on others. William had his back turned to the students as he wrote an equation on the board.

“And perhaps even then-

William for once mistakenly looked up to his right just at the exact moment you raised your head from your strained arms. It was as if time has frozen as you both locked eyes with one another. His eyes squinting up at you while your eyes widened like a deer caught in headlights.

Just like that William finished the class and as students began to pack up to leave you were rather quick to look away and avoid those unreal eyes staring you down.

William acknowledged all students before they left the room and you hoped that he would soon follow. He did not.

“So you really are a professor ?” You ask, gripping onto your long skirt hoping William didn’t notice the slight trip in your step as you carefully made your way down. He did. “Did you assume I was being dishonest about my occupation ?”

He asked, placing his hands behind his back as if he were still teaching like the professional that he is.

“I though you were just covering up for another job, I don’t know.” You simply shrug, briefly turning back to look around the huge room.

Of course, you missed the slight smirk evident on Williams face that was wiped away as soon as you faced him again. “I thought Louis had you doing chores this morning ?” Williams ask, gathering the dozen sheets of paper left on his desk. “He did ! He even wrote me a list but I left before I even started.” You smirk proudly. You weren’t even going to deny it.

Instead of walking by William’s side you opted for just simply following behind him like a lost puppy. Although you managed to get to the university with no problems, as the evening grew late and the sky began to darken you weren’t completely sure how to find your way back.

Minutes go by walking in silence with no conversation taking place between the two of you. You partly did want to indulge yourself in small talk but yet the words simply didn’t come out of your mouth. But even peeking a glance at William’s face he didn’t seem that keen on the idea either. Maybe he had a rough day ? Were his lessons really that short or was it cut short because of you ?

Yeah, silence was the better option.

But silence didn’t last long as you heard William greeting someone, you looked up to the sight of William speaking happily to Louis. You wonder if maybe they always met up on the way home.

You look around from behind William giving Louis a little wave all the while he simply returns a raised brow along with a scoff. There was a part of you that thought if the others had noticed you had left, in particular you were curious about Louis. But by a simple glance at the annoyance that shined through his glasses you guessed he somehow anticipated you once again leaving.

Although maybe he wasn’t anticipating your return ? It was evident now.

Maybe you shouldn’t sneak out anymore.

If you wish to be added to the taglist please comment below to let me know!!!

TAGLIST: @elvyshiarieko @queenofspades403 @rayonfirethe2nd @simpy-geli-lol @phoenix666stuff @lindoasd @silveredwood @nimuelis

[twisted-writing]

House of L/N

For Anonymous

Who asked: -How would they React to MC have powerful Magic

—————————————————————

POV: Third person

Characters:Male!reader, NRC characters (Epel, Ace, Jack, Deuce and Divus Crewel)

Word Count: 706

Note: please let me know if you guys like the first scenario or even if you hate it.

Note 2: this didn’t exactly come out as requested but I hope you all enjoy it anyway.

——————————————————————

Y/N opened his bag and with a wave of his pen, his papers and books were shrunk down and marched into his bag, in alphabetical order. He smiled. His things were nice and orderly. Just like how he liked them. Closing his bag, he finally looked up to see that his fellow first years were gaping at him in surprise. Ace, especially.

“What? You’re acting like you’ve never seen anyone organize their school things.”

“Not like that!”

“How did you do that?!”

“Teach me!”

Epel, Deuce, and Ace, especially Ace, got into Y/N’s personal space, causing him to back up.

“I think what they mean is, they were wondering what spell you just used and if you could show us how to do it.” Jack saved him, making the other three boys back up, once they realized how close they had been to Y/N’s personal space.

They had the decency to look somewhat sheepish and apologize.

“Well. It was my father who taught me how to do it.” Y/N began to explain as he closed his schoolbag and secured the strap for it. “He keeps things organized, which is to be expected, given how much paperwork he has to go through daily for the businesses he owns.” Professor Trein’s lesson had just ended and it was time for lunch.

“He wouldn’t mind if you showed us how to do it, would he?” It was Deuce who asked, as they exited the classroom and stepped out into the hallway, and began their way to the cafeteria.

“No.” Y/N thought of his father, who the public knew as a stern, ice cold businessman, but within the walls of their home, who would shower his mother and sister with all of the love and affection that they could ask for and the way careful way he would guide him whenever they would practice something new, taking safety precautions so as to not endanger themselves. “I don’t think he would mind at all.”

“Great!” It was hard to tell who was the most excited, Epel or Ace.

“Come by my dorm after school, I’ll show you how to do it then.”

They all promised to be there.

~•~

Y/N found himself standing in front of a tree that was almost dead in the botanical garden. It had been a tree that bore exotic fruit and flowers which had been used for brewing potions, and not only that…

“Can you fix it?”

“It’s our home!”

“Please do your best!”

…It was also home to the faeries that resided in the botanical garden.

Honestly, this wasn’t how he managed his Saturday going.

“Alright.” But it was Professor Crewel who had asked him and had promised to give him extra credit points on the next assignment. Y/N didn’t want to disappoint him. “Leave it to me.” And he didn’t want to disappoint the faeries who were looking at him with such hopeful expressions.

And if Y/N didn’t leave until the sun was beginning to set? Well, that wasn’t anyone’s business.

And if he also woke up to a basket full of exotic fruit on the nightstand next to bed the next morning as a thank you? That was for him to know and for no one else to figure out.

~•~

Instantly the smoke from a potion assignment gone wrong due to an arrogant first year, was instantly cleared, as if it had been sucked into a powerful vacuum.

“Thank you, pup. For your quick thinking.”

“Of course, Professor Crewel.”

He was feeling sorry for the first year who dared to think that they could do whatever they wanted during Professor Crewel’s lesson; they clearly had no idea of the storm that was going to rain down on them.

He could only hope that they learned their lesson after this.

[richardtheteacher]

10 Rookie Blunders New High School Teachers Make (and How to Avoid Them!)

Richard James Rogers, award-winning author and educator, describes 10 rookie blunders that new high school teachers make, and steps that can be taken to avoid them.

A blog post by Richard James Rogers (Award-Winning Author of The Quick Guide to Classroom Management and The Power of Praise: Empowering Students Through Positive Feedback). This blog post has been beautifully illustrated by Pop Sutthiya Lertyongphati. Starting your teaching career is an exciting adventure, but it can also feel overwhelming. The reassuring news is that every teacher makes…

[soundtrack-scribe]

Happy Hour

Soundtrack:

Alone Together- Dan + Shay

Word Count: 2.5k

__

The beeping of the copier machine had you snapping your head up from your laptop. Assuming it was beeping because it was out of paper, you grabbed a new ream, carrying it over.

However, instead of a “load paper” display like you were expecting, the copier displayed the words every teacher dreaded to see while making copies before school: paper jam.

“Oh, c’mon,” you grumbled with a short laugh as you opened the front cover and let the machine guide you through fixing the jam before closing the cover again.

The machine whirred back to life, and certain the problem was solved, you moved to the sink to wash off the printer ink splotches on your hands. As you were drying your hands, the machine beeped again.

“You’ve got to be fuckin’ joking,” you muttered with an eye roll, approaching the machine again. Again it blared a message of a paper jam.

You worked your way through unjamming the copier a second time. And then a third. And then a fourth. At some point your laptop screen went into sleep mode, but updating your Google Classroom was now the last thing on your mind.

You slammed the cover shut, and took a step back, fanning yourself, unsure of it was the warm room or stress of needing your copies before classes started making you feel sweaty.

The copier whirred, and then started beeping again. “Nnnoooo!” you laugh-whined, as you opened the machine and started the process of unjamming it again.

A low whistle sounded from the doorway to the lounge as Ashton, the math teacher next door to you, walked in with a few papers in his hands. “Jammed huh?”

“Yup. And no matter what I do, it keeps jamming,” you gave him the quick run down. “Morning, and happy Friday, by the way,” you added, straightening up from fixing the jam yet again. “How are you?”

Ashton laughed, “Morning, Happy Friday, and I’m good, you? Besides probably pissed off at the copier? Have you messaged Michael?” he replied, mentioning the IT maintenance manager on your guys’ side of campus.

“I’m gonna fight technology and my students,” you said with another frustrated laugh. “They’re the reason I need to make copies in the first place because they keep vandalizing the computers. Did I tell you how I found one yesterday with a cracked screen?”

Ashton whistled low. “I feel that. My kids are in trouble because they made my sub walk out yesterday.”

“Damn, I got a reflection essay for that if you need. Too bad you’ll need the copier, though.”

Ashton laughed as he pulled out his phone. “Yeah, I’ll let Michael know.”

“Tell him I blame him too, because he literally asked me yesterday how the copier was doing and I stupidly said that it was working great,” you told him as you checked what copies you had before the jam started. “I have enough to manage for today. If I could just cancel the job though so it would stop, that would be great.”

As Ashton stepped over to examine the copier, you stepped back to give him space. “Hmm,” the man hummed, “are you making double sided copies?”

“Yeah. Trying to save paper.”

“That might be the problem. When the paper flips, it—” he explained as he started pressing buttons on the display screen.

“Oh that’s when it gets jammed!” you finished. “Well fine, I’ll never make double sided copies again, I guess.”

“No, cancel! Cancel!” Ashton laughed as the copier whirred and on cue jammed.

Together you both reached to open the front cover, Ashton pulling open one part and yanking out paper, while you reached back and tried to wedge free paper stuck in the far back. You ignored the way your hands brushed against each other’s as you both pulled back your hands. Ignored the way you bore matching ink splotches. Ignored how his eyes carefully watched where your hands were as he snapped various parts of machinery back into place so he didn’t accidentally close a piece on you. Before Ashton closed the cover that would trigger the copier starting up and jamming again, he hit the power button, holding it until a power down menu option appeared. “Shh, go to sleep,” he whispered to the copier, making both of you giggle.

“Yes!” you both cheered when at long last the copier went silent. He held up his hand in a high five, and when your palm slapped victoriously into his, his fingers spread, your own fingers slotting into the empty spaces, interlacing with his.

You both realized what was happening at the same time, his eyes widening as he dropped your hand and took a few hurried steps back, clearing his throat. “Um, uh,” he started to sputter. “Enjoy your copies, Nova.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you rushed, grabbing your copies and long forgotten laptop. “Uh, thanks for the help. I’ll send that reflection assignment to you.”

“Yeah, course, anytime,” he waved dismissively. “And thanks, I’d appreciate it.”

Copies in hand, you made to exit the lounge, but paused before the door. “Hey, did you see the email Calum sent about an after school happy hour because it’s a minimum day?” you asked, bringing up the biology teacher across the way from yours and Ashton’s classrooms.

“Oh yeah, I was probably gonna swing by. You going?”

“Yeah I was thinking about it.”

“Cool. I’ll uh, see you later then.”

When you got to your classroom, you sat at your desk a long while thinking everything over.

Did you like Ashton? It was such a silly question. Of course you liked Ashton. You liked all of your fellow 9th grade team coworkers.

But you and Ashton had started working at the school during the same year. You survived the new teacher trenches literally side by side. And throughout the seven years you’ve been teaching, you each watched the other teachers on your team go through their own relationship highs and lows. Every time Calum complained about an affair gone awry, you and Ashton always sighed in relief, lamenting the fact that this is why you each chose to stay single.

And it was hard to deny the way your heart had raced at how he looked crouched down with you helping you fix the copier with those ink splotches on his large hands.

In a moment of “fuck it,” you pulled up the employee handbook, searching for anything to tell you that you and Ashton would be a bad move professionally. And you couldn’t help the grin when you found nothing that forbade employee relationships.

~~~

“Have a good weekend!” you announced to your class as they rapidly exited the room. When the last one filed out, you turned your attention to quickly tidying up your classroom and preparing it for Monday morning, so come Monday you didn’t have to worry about it.

You were standing on a chair to reach high enough to change the date on your whiteboard when hands drummed against the top of your open doorway. You turned, prepared to scold whatever student was banging on the doorframe, but your eyes flashed wide when you noticed it was Ashton. And you were pretty sure your cheeks flushed at the sight of his biceps flexing and straining against the sleeves of his shirt as he leaned in your doorway, hands firmly wrapped around the top of the doorframe, fingers still drumming a little tune.

If he noticed your pink cheeks, he didn’t say anything. He just flashed you a wide smile, the dimple in his cheek making an appearance. “You headed out?”

“Yeah, just getting things ready and waiting for the parking lot to die down a bit.”

“Mmm, smart choice,” he mentioned. He let go of the doorframe, stepping fully inside your classroom. He took off the baseball hat with the school logo emblazoned on it that he always wore, and ran his fingers through his hair, doing very little to tame the unruly brown waves, before pulling the hat back down on his head. “Damn, your writing is so neat,” he admired, taking a look at your whiteboard.

“You didn’t take Whiteboard Writing 101?” you joked.

“Nah, my program only had Doctor’s Writing. So my own board looks like I wrote with my left hand,” he joked back.

“Well, good thing you really only have to write numbers,” you continued to tease, moving to step down from your chair.

Suddenly he was in front of you, hand out to help you step off the chair. Without thinking, you accepted the help, marveling in the warmth and strength of his hand holding onto yours. “Yeah until we do a unit on variables and then it’s “Mister! Is that an “s” or a “5”? So I usually just make slides with all the equations and go over it that way. Makes it less embarrassing.”

“That’s actually pretty smart,” you told him as he let go of your hand and grabbed the back of the chair, picking it up and putting it back in place for you.

You were certain he heard the gulping sound you made as his eyes met yours, that grin plastered on his face. Then again, almost like he was giving you privacy to fawn over him, he moved across your room to look out the window overlooking the parking lot. “I think we’re good if you’re ready to head out.”

You noticed how he waited for you to gather your things, and let you exit first. You also noticed how he flicked off the classroom lights for you, the toe of his boot kicking up the door stopper to shut your door in the same motion. And you definitely noticed how he walked a step behind you all the way to the parking lot and didn’t get into his truck until you were safely in your own little car.

~~~

You squeezed the lime wedge into your Corona before you put the beer bottle to your lips. Next to you, Ashton played with the peeling label of his own beer bottle.

“Have any of you guys played corn hole?” Michael asked during a lapse in conversation, nodding over to the outdoor game set up of the brewery.

“I feel like I have but I don’t know the rules,” Ashton replied.

“Same,” you spoke up, before taking another pull of your beer.

“You gonna teach us, Georgia boy?” Calum asked, raising an eyebrow as Michael went over to the cornhole game.

“My wife grew up in Georgia. I just lived there for a few years. But yes. Cal, you take that side with Ash. Nova, come over to this side with me.”

Michael launched into an explanation of how the game was played and how the point system worked, but you blocked everything out after Michael mentioned that Ashton was your teammate. And when Ashton reached up to flip his hat backwards on his head, you finished off your beer so you could blame the warmth flooding your body on the booze.

Back and forth the four of you took turns tossing the beanbags, no one really keeping score, conversation flowing easily. At some point Calum dismissed himself and then Michael, leaving just you and Ashton, still aimlessly tossing the beanbags across the playing field. “So,” Ashton spoke up, breaking the comfortable silence that had been building.

“So?” you questioned when he said nothing more.

“I was thinking of grabbing a water. You want one?” he asked, jerking a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the building.

“Yeah that would be great, thanks,” you smiled at him.

As he walked inside, you returned to the table that was still littered with discarded beer bottles, pretzel bites, and your purse.

When Ashton returned with 2 water glasses, and 2 shot glasses in hand, you raised an eyebrow in silent question. “They got me with 2 for 1 tequila,” he answered sheepishly. “Figured why not. If you’re not a tequila drinker, I’ll drink both.”

“No, tequila’s fine,” you told him, taking the offered shot glass and throwing it back. You let out a shiver as the alcohol smoothly went down your throat. “Mmm, so what do I owe you?” you asked as the shot glass clinked against the tabletop.

“Oh, it’s on me,” he waved a hand dismissively. “You just wanted water and I’m a sucker for a good happy hour deal.”

“Yeah, but I still drank it,” you pressed.

“Seriously, it’s fine.”

“Ashton.”

“Nova.”

You rolled your eyes, taking a drink of the water. “You’re impossible.”

He grinned, taking a drink of his own water. “Yeah, but you like me that way.”

“That is true,” you agreed. “I like you a lot of ways.”

Ashton choked on his next sip of water. “Come again?”

“I— I just meant—” you stammered. What did you mean? You sighed, opting for the truth. “I like you, Ash. You’ve been my next door neighbor our entire teaching careers. You’re a great teacher, and a great co-worker. A great friend, even. I like showing up to work, knowing you’re gonna be there. I like our silly unspoken competition we have about who gets to work first. So yeah. I like you.”

He smiled softly. “I like you too,” came the admission. “I like how you remember everyone’s birthdays, and what our food likes and dislikes are so when we plan parties you make sure there’s something for everyone to eat. I like how you used to only bring a turkey and cheese and crackers platter until I said I like salami so now you bring the bigger platter. I like how you usually always bring the same lunch, unless it’s after a party because then you just bring your leftover platter like it’s an adult sized lunchable. And I like how most mornings when I pull into the parking lot, your car is already there and when I walk down the hallway, you wave good morning to me from your room. So yeah, I like you, too.”

“I—”

“Look,” Ashton said quickly. “I’m not trying to force something that’s not there. I’m aware that when you say you like me, you could just truly mean you like me, and that’s that. And I’m fine if all we’re meant to be is friendly co-workers. But I know that when I get in my truck to go home, I’m going home alone. And I’m pretty sure that when you get into your own car, you’re also going home alone. So all I’m saying is that if you maybe would want to be alone together with me, that’s something I’d be open to.”

He didn’t say anything else as he began to drink his water, allowing you the time and space to deal with the bombshell he dropped on you.

Alone? Together? With Ashton? With those lips cold from the water glass pressing against yours, soft and refreshing? With those large careful hands skillfully roaming your body? The idea of him taking his time as he learned about you in a much more intimate manner?

Your hands splayed out across the tabletop as you leaned forward. Understanding your cue, Ashton’s lips found yours halfway across the table.

“Let’s get out of here,” you murmured as you pulled away, and brought a finger to your lips, savoring the way his lips had felt on yours and excited for whatever came next.

“Mmm, in a minute,” he agreed, before his fingers hooked under your chin, pulling you back in for another kiss.

[drcomttheo]

Amidst the Chaos

Amidst the Chaos—ML

FIFTEEN:

"Stop it—stop! I can't do it anymore."

As the time drew near for everyone to embark on their journey back to Hogwarts after the festive Christmas break, Sirius and Remus found themselves unable to resist the urge to gently remind Allie of the responsibilities that awaited her.

She battled the overwhelming frustration that threatened to overwhelm her, holding onto the optimism that everything would eventually work out perfectly.

Her mind was filled with a torrent of thoughts, and as she sat in class, time flowed past her like a river, each minute dissolving into the next, and she found solace in the quick pace.

Free time beckoned, offering a sweet escape from the rigors of the classroom, but Professor McGonagall's idea prevented Allie from enjoying her freedom.

This was due to Allie's remarkable intellect and unwavering dedication, which stood out among her peers and earned her the admiration of Professor McGonagall.

The class had ended, and as she was gathering her things, the professor walked over to her gracefully.

"Miss Hesper, might I ask you to take on the task of tutoring Mr. Nott? After all, you are among the most brilliant pupils in our school, while Mr. Nott, well, finds himself quite distant from that respected position." Professor McGonagall declared.

Minerva recognized Allie's exceptional talents and entrusted her with a noble task: to mentor and support those students who struggled to grasp the complexities of their studies.

Usually, Hermione assigned the first-ranked student to help tutor the others, but she had already reached her limit with the number of students she could manage.

And so, the weight of responsibility began to flow down the chain.

Draco was prepared to take the lead when presented with an opportunity. However, fate had different intentions, as Snape informed Professor McGonagall that Draco could not participate in any extracurriculars.

Allie was the next one up.

Though she found herself perpetually caught in the whirlwind of her busy life, she felt a spark of tenacity ignite within her.

It was just one student, after all, and she couldn't resist the call to lend a hand.

"It would be my pleasure..." Allie exclaimed, her voice laced with forced enthusiasm, although she felt a flicker of relief that it was Theo in need rather than another student, but deep down, she understood that guiding Theo would be an impossible task.

"Perfect," Professor McGonagall said, her voice steady and filled with an air of authority that commanded the attention of all present.

"Can you begin at the end of the day? I would assume?" She turned to Allie, her eyes searching for an answer, and Allie merely nodded her head in response as she stood up from her desk, gathered her final belongings, and headed out of the classes.

The rest of the day was routine as usual; she attended her classes and talked to her friends, and soon, the day had come to a close. Allie navigated the common room, searching for Theo.

As expected, she found him sitting on one of the many couches, Pansy by his side.

Upon noticing her presence, they slightly separated, and Theo quickly stood up.

"Reporting for duty!" Theo said in a sarcastic tone as he brought his hand to his head in a saluting motion, and Allie and Pansy both laughed and mumbled, "You are so stupid," as they looked at Theo.

"Pans, I gotta steal him away... I know, so heartbreaking..." Allie expressed her playful exasperation, and Pansy laughed in agreement, appearing somewhat relieved to have some time away from Theo.

"Wow, ladies, I am really feeling the love," Theo said as he rolled his eyes and bent down to give Pansy a quick kiss on the head.

"You know I do, Teddy," Pansy said as a faint blush brushed against her cheeks, and Theo couldn't help but smile in return.

"Okay! Let's go! Time's ticking!" Allie exclaimed as she told Pansy bye and began to make her way to the library.

***

As the night deepened and Allie's patience began to wane, she found it increasingly difficult to conceal her irritation.

Theo was a challenging student, and his lack of attention during Allie's lessons only compounded the difficulty.

Professor McGonagall had tasked Allie with the responsibility of tutoring Theo in the four fundamental subjects: Charms, Potions, Transfiguration, and Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Allie, a girl of remarkable intellect, found herself engulfed in a sea of responsibilities.

The weight of her studies, compounded by the demands of another student, pressed heavily upon her.

Yet, she pressed on, understanding that it was merely Theo's influence and that this endeavor would ultimately serve to bolster her academic standing with extra credit.

Allie endeavored to maintain her composure during their study session, yet Theo's struggle to understand the material was becoming increasingly frustrating.

"No, please, just stop. Honestly," Allie sighed, her voice laced with doubt as she carefully pried the quill from his grasp, guiding his gaze back to the parchment before them.

"Does this seem correct to you?"

Her voice resonated with an undeniable intensity as she pronounced the word 'correct,' each syllable drawn out.

Throughout her academic career at Hogwarts, Allie constantly yearned to be the pinnacle of achievement.

Her grades were a reflection of her unwavering dedication and brilliance.

From an early age, she was known for her large aptitude for knowledge, earning an affectionate nickname of "curious" by her parents.

She possessed an endless hunger for knowledge and to learn about every subject she came across, from contemplating the depths of the sky's azure hue to daringly mixing the rare strands of Abraxan hair with the peculiar essence of bulbadox juice, and regardless of whether the facts she knew were pertinent to the topic at hand, she couldn't help but incorporate them into every conversation.

Theo spoke, focusing back on the task, and in a low voice, he dropped his head into his hands and whispered, "Well, obviously, it does to me; I really don't know how to do this." 

Allie let out a breathless sigh as she started to jot down notes on his paper.

"In this scenario, the dosage of the potion connects seamlessly with the duration of the drinker's slumber, so for this, there is no predetermined formula," she exclaimed, her eyes filled with excitement as she began to explore every nuance of the Dreamless Sleep potion.

"You just have to make sure you do the correct proportion," she exclaimed.

As she began to scribble down her thoughts in the margins of his book, a soft snore interrupted her.

"Theo! Wake up!" Allie playfully tapped the back of his head.

Without hesitation, he straightened his posture.

"Bloody hell, was that really necessary?" he exclaimed, to which Allie simply shook her head in response.

"You were sleeping," she stated. Her words were firm and resolute, a clear reflection of her determination.

"I can't allow my grades to suffer due to your unwillingness to listen," she declared. "Now please listen." 

Theo exhaled deeply, his hand meeting his forehead in exasperation as he brought his quill down with a decisive thud against the tabletop.

"Alright, alright," Theo murmured, bringing his free hand to his eyes in a futile attempt to dispel the weariness that clung to him.

"Thank you!" Allie conveyed her appreciation as she delicately turned the page of her book.

"I know this is boring and probably unimportant to you, but I care about my grades."

Allie started to peruse the words on the pages while Theo let out an exasperated sigh.

"I care about mine as well; I just—I went through a difficult time over the holiday," Theo confessed, his gaze fixed on the pages, while Allie cast a gentle glance in his direction.

"Oh... Is everything okay? Allie turned her attention to him, momentarily setting aside her work.

Theo responded with a simple nod, and in return, Allie nodded back, sharing a silent understanding between them.

***

The next morning, Allie burst into potions class just as the bell tolled, prompting a low grumble from Snape.

"Late," Snape remarked, his gaze fixed firmly on the board, the chalk gripped tightly in his hands. 

"Professor, I'm hardly—" Allie spoke as she began to navigate her path to her seat, and Snape pivoted, his gaze piercing as it fell upon her.

"I was not addressing you—Mister Malfoy, please take your seat," Snape declared, his voice cutting through the murmurs as he commanded the pages of every book to turn to the designated spot.

Allie averted her gaze from Malfoy as he settled into the chair beside her. Just as Snape prepared to commence the lesson, two more students entered the room: Jax and Mattheo.

As his annoyance escalated, Snape yelled, "One hundred and fifty points from Slytherin!"

His fellow Slytherins in the class murmured discontentedly as he had deducted fifty points from each of the three who had arrived late.

Allie considered it just, yet a frown creased her brow as the weight of their place slipping from the lead of the house cup settled upon her.

As Snape meticulously inscribed his notes upon the board, the lesson commenced at last, with Jax and Mattheo settling into their seats.

Mattheo occupied a solitary spot on the far side of the classroom, while Jax positioned himself directly behind Allie and Mattheo.

Allie quickly turned around and offered a brief apology to Jax for leaving before he was ready and without his knowledge.

He responded with a resolute nod, suggesting that a conversation on the matter awaited them in the near future.

Allie returned his nod and faced forward once more. In that moment, Draco gently nudged her, a smile gracing his lips before he redirected his focus to the lesson at hand.

As the lesson drew to a close, Snape's thoughts appeared distant and unfocused.

Allie busied herself, gathering her belongings and stowing them away in her small bag while Jax lingered nearby, his presence a steady comfort.

"Jax, I'm sorry—I know I shouldn't have left, but I didn't see you, and I couldn't be late," Allie confessed, rising from her seat and making her way toward the door.

"I know—it was my fault; actually, I wasn't there for you when you were ready; the time slipped me," Jax remarked, lifting her bag with a gentle determination.

"What were you doing?" Allie posed her question, yet before he could articulate his reply, an interruption ensued.

"Miss Hesper..." A voice pierced the stillness, prompting her to pivot; it was Snape.

Allie met his fierce gaze, unwavering in the intensity of the moment.

"You are to be back here in one hour," Snape declared with a sharpness that brooked no argument.

Just as Allie opened her mouth to voice her discontent, Jax interjected with a discreet gesture that conveyed a wealth of meaning.

"Yes, professor," Allie replied, stepping out of the classroom and heading toward the Great Hall, eager to snatch a scone or bagel before she hurried back to Professor Snape's domain.

As she glided down the corridor toward the hall, a familiar voice broke through the air.

"Hey!" Theo called out, his tone laced with a mix of urgency and curiosity, as she quickened her pace, her heart racing with the thrill of the unexpected encounter. Jax and Allie both came to an abrupt stop.

"Can I talk to you?" He stood outside the classroom, a figure of quiet anticipation, yearning for the moment to speak with her.

"If you can talk quickly, I don't have much time."

Allie continued her brisk pace toward the hall when Theo's hand suddenly clasped her shoulder, bringing her to an unexpected stop.

"What is it, Theo?" Allie inquired, and Theo lifted his gaze to meet hers.

"Whoa, there's no need for that kind of attitude. I was just wondering if we were still going to study later." He inquired, his fingers absently massaging the nape of his neck while Allie cast a fleeting, concerned glance at Jax.

"I can't today; Snape needs my assistance for something later. That's kind of why I'm in a rush right now," Allie said, casually wrapping her arm around Theo as she guided them both toward the dining hall.

"What about another time? Besides, you have made many improvements," Allie stated, a playful smile dancing on her lips, and Theo responded with a hearty laugh that echoed through the room.

"Please don't say it," Theo growled, a hint of frustration lacing his words, and Allie found herself unable to hold back. 

"I'm proud of you," Allie chuckled, her laughter ringing like a melody in the air, while Theo muttered under his breath, a frown etched upon his face.

Together, they stepped into the Great Hall, where Allie seized a quick bite of her snack before she headed to her impending meeting with Snape.

***

Snape had been anticipating Allie's arrival, and following her dismissal of Jax, she had sent him off to his current task.

Uncertainty clouded her thoughts as she pondered whether he retained any memory of the man he had once been prior to this assignment, and she had hoped that perhaps he was discovering some semblance of fulfillment right now.

She ignored that thought as she stepped into Snape's classroom, her gaze immediately drawn to him; he stood imposed in the center, and his voice cut through the air, "You're late..."

His voice resonated through the air, which prompted Allie to cast her gaze toward the clock, which now marked two minutes past the hour.

"Snape, I'm not late!" Allie started sternly, and Snape swung over to her, which caused her to step back slightly.

"To him you are, and you would have already been dead for your attitude, Miss Hesper," Snape declared, his wand a mere extension of his will as he flicked it, the door slamming shut and locking with a finality that echoed in the stillness.

Allie felt a flicker of confusion regarding his words, yet she was determined not to provoke him further.

With a measured grace, she removed her robe and placed it delicately on the table as she redirected her focus to Snape once more.

"Occlumency is the art of magically sealing the mind against the intrusions of Legilimency, a skill in which the Dark Lord excels," Snape set his attention upon her.

"I will be imparting to you the necessary practices, and you shall remain here until you attain even the faintest semblance of shielding," Snape declared before delving deeper into the intricacies and the essential qualities of a proficient Occlumens.

As the minutes slipped into hours, the evening deepened, and she found herself uncertain of how long they had been doing this task.

"You have to perform better than that! I can easily penetrate your mind. It seems like you're too inept to stop me from doing what I want. Come on, you imbecile!" 

Snape was resolute in fortifying Allie's intellect for the mutual advantage of both her and the Order.

His louder voice caused Allie, who was seated in a chair in the middle of the room, to give a tiny jump.

He moved closer to her until his face met hers.

Once he was in front of her, he began to speak.

"You have to fortify your mind and disconnect your senses." As he exhaled deeply, he turned his head to gaze at the girl, who appeared to be worried.

"Do you recall a memory that you believe is powerful to you, but not sufficient for him?"

Without waiting for her to process the information, he twisted his way back into her memories, interrupting her breathing as he went.

The anguish was so intense that it shot through her mind.

It was fierce in its intensity.

The memory began to swirl in and out of her brain, gradually becoming more visible as Snape proceeded to force his way through her mind.

In front of her vision, the somber scene began to progress and unfold; different items were twisting into both of their views.

"Allie." She heard her mom's voice carry from a distance. "Hurry up; this was your plan."

Allie eagerly sprinted to the top of the hill, her heart racing with eagerness, as she hurried to meet up with her parents at the summit.

As she reached the top of the hill, she stood proudly and stared at the breathtaking view.

"Wow, this place is absolutely incredible," she whispered in awe as she gazed at the stunning view before her. Allie couldn't help but smile, feeling a rush of nostalgia as she took in the familiar scene in front of her.

Her gaze shifted to her father, who was sitting comfortably on a plaid quilt that had a charming mismatched pattern thanks to the clever combination of various fabrics."Even though I first came up with the idea, he actually told me about it." She gestured toward her father, who was staring at her with a bright smile.

Allie moved closer to her father, settling down beside him in a comfortable position.

The young girl gazed longingly over the edge of the grassy slopes, her eyes fixed on the breathtaking view that extended out in front of her.

Down the ridge, there was a tranquil waterfall. She and her parents frequently found themselves here as a family, although it wasn't very often due to her school schedule and her parents' work commitments.

When not occupied with meetings or secret missions assigned by the Ministry, her parents were known for their assistance to their fellow colleagues.

Whenever they had a rare moment of free time, they would all make an effort to go.

Despite the exhausting climb up, Allie couldn't stop going. She saw it as a sanctuary, a haven where being alone didn't make her feel isolated. She frequently found herself captivated by the sight of the sky above. She adored the way the clouds gracefully glided through the air, seemingly suspended in eternal tranquility.

The shapes they created were constantly forming and changing, much to the delight of her family. They loved creating imaginative stories about the various shapes that appeared in the sky.

She found it incredibly soothing.

A peaceful scene.

Allie growled through her teeth, "That's private," as she clutched her skull in an effort to relieve some of the stress that the spell had generated. 

"It's not for him. I recommend controlling your mind, or he will." Snape let out a soft sigh before continuing.

"When you know who uses his practices in your mind, imagine the clouds and how they move as the wind blows," he added as he drew closer to her in a relatively short amount of time. 

In an effort to give it another shot, Allie took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

As she did so, she made an effort to maintain her concentration on the clouds generating overhead in her mind.

As she contemplated their movements, she also accounted for their forms.

Snape did not pause for even a second longer, entering her thoughts once more and beginning to twist his way through them. 

"Legilimens!" He yelled as he directed his wand toward her thoughts and pointed it in her direction.

As the magic tore through Allie's head and whirled about in her memories, she could feel the piercing anguish that accompanied it.

It was ripping its way through her mind.

Allie made an effort to concentrate on the memories of familiar surroundings; she pictured herself lying down on the grass and gazing up at the sky, watching the clouds in the sky as they passed.

As her thoughts began to wander, she became aware of him searching through her memories in an attempt to find something of significance.

She made an effort to calm her thoughts, taking a long breath as the clouds moved over the sky, forming a variety of shapes.

Snape discovered an imbalance in her thoughts after spending a few minutes focusing her attention on the fictitious clouds.

The experience had shattered her mind, and a new recollection began to take shape in front of the two of them.

Allie had finally managed to escape the confines of her hospital bed after what felt like an eternity.

The mediwitch complied with Allie's request to remove the wrapping for a minute as long as Allie obeyed their instruction for her to walk, so slowly Allie made her way toward the and as she stood on her feet again, she experienced a strange sensation as if they were coming back to life.

Allie didn't want to roam far, so she ultimately found herself in the bathroom, and as she entered, she closed the door behind her.

She neared the mirror in front of her, and she found herself reluctant to look into it, and she let a moment of anticipation fill her mind.

She gently placed her hand on the sink.

A sigh escaped her lips as she inhaled deeply, her eyes meeting her own reflection, and as she gazed at the unfamiliar figure in front of her, tears streamed down her face, dampening her gown as she quietly wept.

The tears were soon overcome as Allie's blood simmered with an intense fury.

She longed to let out a piercing scream, but she restrained herself, not wanting to cause any concern, but she just couldn't tear her eyes away from the mysterious figure standing before her.

The intensity of her own gaze sent shivers down her spine; it was almost strange.

Her hair seemed coarse, and her eyes were dark, and then there was the absence of her left arm, a haunting reminder of a past event that she couldn't begin to fathom.

As she stared at the last remnant of the injury, swollen and adorned with shades of purple and black, her heart raced, feeling a mix of emotions.

She winced as she cautiously reached out and touched it with her opposite hand.

To her surprise, there was no pain upon contact.

However, an eerie sensation made her believe that her phantom limb was still writhing in agony.

She tightly closed her eyes, unable to contain her screams any longer as she felt the agonizing pain surging through her arm.

She collapsed onto the floor, curling herself up into a tight ball, the dull ache pulsating through her.

She sobbed uncontrollably on the cold bathroom floor, her heartache consuming her until the ordeal finally came to an end.

Allie screamed out, "Stop it—stop! I can't do it anymore," she gasped, her skull grasped in her hands as she curled over in agony.

Allie had reached her limit and required some time to recover.

She experienced a sensation akin to glass fragments embedded in her brain. 

"The Dark Lord refuses to stop," Snape murmured, enunciating each syllable with deliberate precision. "He will inflict extreme mental punishment, leaving nothing in your mind intact." His gaze shifted to Allie, who sat on the floor with her head buried in her knees.

A sense of defeat overwhelmed her.

She doubted her own strength when it came to the challenging task of occultation.

It required an exceptionally strong mind to achieve a high level of occlusion.

A tempest of feelings surged within her, each one vying for attention, rendering her adrift in a sea of turmoil, unable to grasp the solace she so desperately sought.

In the quiet corners of her mind, a familiar refrain echoed, drawing her thoughts back to the same poignant concern: her parents.

She craved their presence more than ever before. Allie found herself in a situation where she needed to take action but, unfortunately, lacked the support she desired.

This left her feeling a mix of anger, both in general and specifically directed at Harry.

Despite him being the chosen one, she couldn't help but feel more 'chosen' than he did.

Guilt gnawed at her, a constant shadow in her thoughts, yet it was an undeniable truth in her heart.

Harry was destined to restore balance, a role so grand, yet Allie pondered if the truth was more expansive than that.

As she found herself at the center of the Death Eaters' attention, her heart burned with a fiery mix of anger and sorrow, completely unaware of the reasons behind their relentless pursuit.

The longing to uncover the truth behind her parents' premature deaths consumed her. The unanswered question gnawed at her soul, leaving her yearning for closure.

Allie got to her feet, brushing away a stray tear before it could escape down her cheek.

She abruptly informed Snape that she would not continue today, swiftly gathering her belongings.

She sternly declared that she would no longer tolerate such actions from him.

Before Snape could utter a word in response, she quickly exited the room, forcefully shutting the door behind her.

***

 Allie flew into the common room, navigating gracefully through the crowd of students who had gathered, their laughter and chatter filling the air.

She hurried to her dorm room, her heart racing, desperately trying to piece herself back together.

She felt a shiver run down her spine as she thought about Snape delving into her thoughts—an intrusion that felt all too personal as if he were trespassing on the very fabric of her existence.

She stepped into the bathroom; the soft hum of the faucet filled the air as she turned the handle, watching the water cascade down, its iciness beckoning her.

With a gentle motion, she reached for a rag, letting it consume water from the cool stream before bringing it to her face.

As she wrapped the rag across her face, the chill enveloped her, awakening her senses in a refreshing surge.

As the cold water fell over her, revitalizing her senses, the torrid memory swayed through her thoughts, lingering just long enough to evoke a difficult form of nostalgia.

She pushed the memory aside, battling the tears that threatened to spill as she splashed her face once more.

She took a deep breath, committed to pledging her reflection to memory before letting it all go once more.

With a fierce determination shining in her gaze, she resolved to ask Theo to study.

She quickly discarded her formal attire, embracing the soft fabric that enveloped her in a sense of ease and freedom, a welcome reprieve from the constraints of the day.

Allie quickly tidied a few items in her room before she set off toward the common room.

She stepped into the common room again, her gaze fixed forward to Theo, who lingered on the couch.

He sat with his feet propped up beside Pansy, his fingers gently twirling her hair.

Allie inhaled deeply and approached them.

"Theo, do you still want to study?" Allie inquired, attempting to dispel the lingering thoughts of the earlier occurrence.

Theo cast a fleeting look at his watch before raising his gaze to meet hers once more.

"It's nearly midnight..." Theo spoke, his eyes sweeping the room, while Allie regarded him with a mixture of astonishment and disbelief as she threw herself onto the couch.

Snape's unrelenting practice of Occlumency ran long, and the time had surprised Allie. Pansy noticed her expression change immediately.

"Are you okay, Phina?" Pansy inquired, her voice filled with concern as she straightened up and met her gaze. Allie, with her head bowed, shook it gently, prompting a frown to crease Pansy's brow.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Pansy offered, her smile warm yet tentative.

Allie, however, responded softly, "No, it's fine; I guess I will just head to bed since he doesn't want to study." Her eyes drifted toward Theo as she spoke.

"I probably need to, but I will likely just fall asleep again," Theo said.

This elicited a gentle smile from Allie, who rose from the couch and looked at them both with a soft smile on her lips.

"Okay, then what about tomorrow?" Allie inquired as she turned her gaze toward Theo, who responded with a reassuring nod, and a gentle smile graced Allie's lips as she got up from the couch.

"Goodnight then," she murmured, her footsteps echoing softly as she crossed the common room until an unexpected collision suddenly halted her as she approached the stairs.

Allie kept her gaze low and her footsteps calculated and measured.

She retreated back with deliberate slowness, her gaze cast downward, until at last she lifted her head, only to find her eyes locked with none other than Draco Malfoy.

"I'm—I'm sorry," she murmured, her gaze falling to the ground as a tide of emotions surged within her. Draco sensed her turmoil and gently cupped her chin, lifting her head to meet his eyes.

"Is—is everything alright?" Draco asked as he gazed down at her, a shadow of empathy crossing his features, and Allie felt an irresistible pull toward him as she instinctively enveloped him in her arms, tears spilling forth as she surrendered to the moment.

 Draco found himself momentarily surprised, yet he swiftly wrapped her in his arms.

Allie, overwhelmed by her emotions, cried harder, yearning for comfort within the warmth of his embrace, tears streaming down her cheeks as she clung to Draco Malfoy, the eyes of onlookers fixed upon the poignant scene unfolding before them.

Allie recoiled a fraction, her instincts urging her to retreat, and Draco relaxed his grip on her slightly.

"I'm—" Allie opened her mouth to speak, yet Draco silenced her with a gentle gesture.

"What's going on?" He inquired, his eyes reflecting a visible urgency.

"I just need to get out of here..." And within an instant, Draco pulled Allie from the common room, and Allie couldn't help but let out a low whine as his grip was firm and he navigated them through the winding halls of the castle.

Allie decided against questioning the unfolding events; instead, she surrendered to the moment, allowing Draco to lead her to destinations unknown.

She found herself unable to stifle a laugh as Draco clasped her hand, pulling her along through the winding corridors of the castle.

He turned back to gaze at her, and in that moment, his heart swelled with a consuming feeling of joy.

The sight of her smile, radiant and genuine, filled him with a profound sense of achievement, for he had managed to bring happiness to her after the tears that had graced her cheeks just moments before.

She rested for a few seconds, bending slightly as she clasped her hands upon her knees, striving to reclaim her breath.

"Are we almost there?" Allie inquired breathlessly, her eyes wide with anticipation, while Draco chuckled softly, a knowing smile gracing his lips as he inclined his head, saying yes.

Allie found herself wandering through the passageways, uncertainty gnawing at her.

Typically, the destination was the Astronomy Tower, a place of wonder and starlight, yet tonight, the path felt unfamiliar, leading her astray.

"Where are we going anyway, Malfoy?" Allie inquired, her posture regaining its proper form as she approached Draco with determined steps.

"I thought a change of scenery would be refreshing," he remarked, swinging open a door that revealed a narrow pebbled path.

Allie trailed closely behind him, and as she shifted her gaze ahead, the moonlight danced upon the surface of the dark lake, casting a glistening shine.

"The black lake? What? Why? Aren't there, like, monsters in there?" Allie remarked, and Draco chuckled as he shook his head in response, "Well, no one said you had to go for a swim."

Draco strolled to the water's edge, where he sank into the soft sand, an invitation that Allie eagerly accepted.

"Yeah, I guess not; just don't push me in," Allie responded with a chuckle as she settled beside him.

A stillness enveloped them, and a fragile pause lingered in the air, and Allie exhaled a weary sigh, drawing her knees to her chest and encircling them with her arms, seeking comfort in the warmth of her own form and a place of refuge for her weary head.

Draco cast a sidelong glance at her, a faint smile gracing his lips.

"So..." Draco turned his gaze toward the lake, prompting Allie to follow suit.

"So..." she echoed softly, exhaling as she observed the moonlight shining upon the water's surface, casting a beautiful light.

Allie sat there, her heart racing, caught in the moment as the cool breeze whispered around them.

She didn't know what to say, but a flicker of warmth spread through her, making her forget the very reason Draco had pulled her away from the chaos.

It was as if the world had faded, leaving just the two of them suspended in this unexpected tranquility. 

"Why—" Draco started.

"Why was I crying?" Allie completed his inquiry, and her gaze lifted to connect with his gray eyes.

His intense stare bore into her, and with a subtle nod, Draco acknowledged her presence.

Allie paused, her gaze drifting from his piercing eyes, and after a moment of contemplation, she summoned the courage to voice her thoughts.

"It was just Snape is all..." Allie began to reflect on the Occlumency session she had just experienced with him moments before.

"It was nothing, really; I just—I just couldn't do it anymore..." Allie declared as she redirected her gaze to the water, where a flicker of movement danced in the background, causing the tranquil surface to ripple ever so slightly.

"I told you!" Allie exclaimed as her finger traced the outline of the vast expanse of water, precisely where the enigmatic figure had appeared.

Draco, unable to contain himself, let out a soft chuckle, though it was but a whisper of amusement.

"Oh please, I'm certain it was just a fish—" Draco remarked, his gaze sweeping across the shimmering surface of the water.

"A fish? Did you see the tail!?" Allie gasped, her gaze fixed on the horizon, anticipation coursing through her veins as she wondered if anything else might emerge from the depths of the unknown.

However, Draco simply shook his head, his features etched with interest as he laughed, but then he changed the subject, still curious.

"What did he do to you?" Draco inquired, his voice laced with curiosity.

"It was just practice, occlumency... It doesn't matter. I'm alright now."

Allie lay back in the cool sand, not caring if it tangled in her hair; instead, she stared at the stars, letting her mind sink into their beauty.

Draco mimicked Allie's movements, gazing at her as their hands dangled dangerously close to each other rather than focusing on the stars.

"Beautiful..." Allie murmured, her gaze captivated by the boundless stretch of the sky above.

Draco breathed softly beside her, his gaze fixed on Allie, captivated by the sight of her tangled brown hair and the gentle flush that graced her cheeks within the cool breeze.

"Yeah, she is."

Allie ignored him as her focus shifted upwards.

[mollycassmith]

Closer to Home, Far from Whole (part 1)

A/N: Here is the long promised rewrite of Closer to Home, and I am apologizing now for how long this has taken and how long things might go between updates. This is loosely based on @asofterfan‘s Punk AU, and I highly recommend you take a look at it. @karaidemon has also written some wonderful fics in the Punk AU, with her OC Annika that I just adore, that you should definitely go look at as well. Alright, on with the show!

CW: none that I'm aware of at the moment, but if please let me know if I need to change this!

Word count: 2046

Rose sat in her car for a few moments, staring out the windshield at the building in front of her. It had been five or so years since she was last there, and she was back, even if it was only temporary. She hadn’t told anyone she was coming back, why bother them when they have more important things to do. She violently shook her head, the purple fringe of her bangs falling into her eyes, giving her something else to focus on for a moment. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and climbed out of the car, heading for the front office. She felt uncomfortable and exposed in her grey slacks and green blouse, though her leather jacket helped to offset the discomfort. She glanced around as she entered the office, conscious of the way her shoes clicked against the tile.

“Oh, Miss Miller, you’re here!” Mrs. Starnes, the elderly receptionist, smiled. “Here is what Mr. Tucker left for you.” The woman handed over a thick folder and a set of keys as Rose nodded.

“Thank you, Mrs. Starnes,” she said, her voice sounding calmer than she felt. “I’ll head up to the classroom.”

“Do you need a guide?”

“No ma’am,” came the quick response before Rose promptly left. She was grateful that the old receptionist, who she honestly thought had retired after her class graduated, had not recognized her beyond the recent interview for the long-term substitute position, but she did not expect that to last. She headed up to the classroom, grateful for the silence in the halls as it gave her time to order her thoughts. She unlocked the room, frowning as she stepped inside. She set the folder and keys down, laying her jacket over the back of the rolling chair, and set to rearranging the classroom. Internally, she knew that the students would be confused, however, she needed something familiar, and since the classroom was effectively hers for the remainder of the semester, they would get over it. At least, she hoped they would. When she managed to get the room close to how she wanted it, to how she remembered it when she had been a student, she glanced at the clock, raising an eyebrow when she realized that she had not taken as much time as she had thought. She shook her head and looked over the lesson plans, making a mental list of how she might need to adjust for her personal teaching style, then logged into the computer, pulling up a file and setting it to print as she went into the chemical supply closet in the back of the room to pull out what the students would need, provided they got far enough with the day’s assignment. She made sure to set up multiple stations before placing the excess back in the supply room, making sure to lock the door, grabbing the papers from the printer and setting them by the door. She glanced at the clock again as she propped the door open, nodding to herself at the time, then set to writing a few things on the whiteboard behind the desk. Not long after she finished, students began to trickle in. Several of them did a double take when they realized the room had been rearranged, then moved to find a seat before having to backtrack and pick up a paper from the table by the door. Rose smiled to herself, waiting for the bell to ring before she closed the door. Moments later, as she was getting ready to address the class, she heard a student attempt to get in, only to find that the door was locked. She raised an eyebrow at them as she opened the door, letting him inside.

“What the hell is this?” the student snapped, shock on his face.

“Take a seat,” Rose stated simply, “and I will explain.” She moved to stand in front of the counter that extended off the desk, looking out at the students with a faint smile. “As many of you have probably guessed by now, I am most definitely not Mr. Tucker. He has decided to take a leave of absence for the remainder of the semester, to, in his own words, ‘preserve the last of my sanity.’” There were some looks and snickers passed among the students, but she ignored them. “Because of that, you all get to see me every day until Winter Break. My name is Miss Miller, and I look forward to teaching you.” She motioned to the stations behind the students. “You should have picked up the packet by the door on your way in. This is for me to get a grasp of where y’all are, as this assignment will use things you have already covered in class.” She gave them a slightly bigger smile. “So, grab a partner and get to work!” She moved behind her desk--she knew it wasn’t hers, but it was easier to think of as hers for the time being--and watched as the students began to pair off. She was happy to hear only minimal grumbling, as the first part of the assignment had them working through basic stoichiometry, balancing equations and calculating moles of reactants and products, before going into the actual experiment. A little over halfway through the class, the student who had arrived late started to argue with his partner.

“I don’t see why you can’t do everything, you’ve already done most of the work,” he told the girl, leaning against the table, his chin resting on his fist.

“I’m not going to do everything, Janus,” she snapped. “And if I do, I’ll tell the sub you did nothing. You’ll fail.”

“Even if she believes you, we’ll just have a new one tomorrow,” he scoffed. Rose silently moved over, having been helping a pair of students a few stations over, standing behind Janus.

“Like I stated at the beginning of the period, I am going to be your teacher until Winter Break, roughly two months,: she said calmly. “I do believe Miss Winters is correct in her assumption that this is graded on participation as well as the assignment. So, with that in mind, I would suggest actually working with your partner, Mr. Riley.” Janus spun on the stool to face her.

“You’re just a sub,” he hissed at her. “I don’t have to listen to you.” She calmly nodded and stepped to the side.

“Then leave my classroom.” Janus stood, grabbing his bag and moving towards the door.

“It’s not your classroom, and it never will be,” he snapped before exiting the classroom, slamming the door behind him. The room fell silent, all eyes on Rose, and she sighed.

“Get back to work,” she spoke, still watching the door. “Miss Winters, you can finish on your own or join another group.” She walked back to the desk and called the office, letting them know what had happened, and that Janus was probably wandering around the school. The period ended not long after the incident, and she wasn’t surprised to see that no one had reached the experiment portion of the packet. “Don’t worry, just bring the packets back tomorrow. I didn’t expect anyone to finish today,” she smiled before the students left. Second period started with the same speech and introduction, though that class went much smoother. Third period rolled around, and Rose had slipped her jacket on, having gotten a bit chilly towards the end of the prior period. She felt eyes on her as the students trickled in, and she glanced over to see two students, one with a shock of purple hair and a studded jacket, the other with a shock of blue hair and a blue tie, watching her. She tilted her head slightly, watching them for a moment before turning her gaze back to the rest of the class. She gave her instructions, reminding them that she did not expect them to finish that day, then let them get to work. She gave the students time to pair off and get started before she began to wander around the room. Sometime into the class, while her back was turned to roughly half the class, she heard the shutter sound from a phone’s camera, causing her to straighten up from where she had been helping a pair of students. She glanced behind her, frowning.

“While I don’t mind you using phones for music or calculators, I sincerely hope none of you are using it to cheat,” she stated. “Carry on.” With that, she went back to helping students. She couldn’t shake the feeling that the shutter sound was significant, but she tried to ignore it for the rest of the class period. As the bell rang for fourth period, and first lunch, she felt her phone vibrate with a text, or multiple, as the vibration started and stopped for a few moments. Once the vibration stopped, there came a knock at the door. She frowned. As she moved to open the door, she caught sight of a flash of pink through the window and sighed. “Dr. Picani,” she said, managing a faint smile as she opened the door. Emile Picani studied the young woman in front of him, noting the smile she gave him did not reach her eyes and she seemed stiff at the sight of him. “Come in.” She moved out of the way of the door, giving him space as he entered.

“It’s good to see you again, Rose,” he smiled, perching on the edge of a desk as she sat in the rolling chair. “Why didn’t you say you would be in town?” She shrugged, picking at a loose thread on the hem of her blouse.

“Didn’t think it was that big of a deal,” she replied, not looking at him. “It’s only til Winter Break anyways.” Emile frowned at that.

“What do you mean?” She looked up at him with a frown.

“Exactly what I said. The long-term substitute contract is up at Winter Break, so I’ll be leaving then.”

“Were you going to let us know you were in town?” She signed, rubbing a hand over her face.

“Maybe, eventually?” she told him, sounding drained. “I honestly have no idea, Dr. P.” He nodded at that. “Was there anything else you needed?”

“My office is always open, Rosie,” he told her. “And not just the one here.” He stood, seeing her nod at his words, and let himself out of the classroom. Rose watched him go, glancing at the time to see that she only had about ten minutes before her fourth period started. She decided against looking at her phone, knowing she wouldn’t be able to put on a good enough face for the students if she did. She did spend five minutes doing a simple meditation to clear her mind, allowing her to get back into the mental space for teaching.

The final three periods of the way passed with relative ease, though she did notice a pastel punk watching her during fourth period and a punk with red hair watching her during sixth. As she closed the door behind the last of her students, Rose’s mind went to the notifications she had gotten earlier in the day. She wasn’t sure if they were texts or not, but she had the time to check now that she had her conference period. She sat behind the desk, pulling her phone from her jacket pocket and checking the notifications. She winced as she saw the messages and opened the conversation, reading through the texts she’d been sent. Her eyes lingered on the last message.

Call me when you get a chance. Before school gets out. She did a mental check of herself, nodding slightly when she found she did have the energy for the conversation to be had. She put on a smile and pressed ‘call,’ only a small part of her wishing the call would go to voicemail. It rang once, twice, three times before the line was picked up. There was silence for a moment, and her smile slipped.

“Remy?” she asked.

“Rosie,” Remy said after a moment. “Why did I have to learn you were back in town from a picture?”

I am recycling the taglist from the old story, if anyone wishes to be removed, please let me know!

@asofterfan, @thebesttable, @rptheturk, @theinternethaslife, @wildhorsewolf, @puns-and-patton, @thenachoduckof-fandoms, @kanejandkruge, @the-homelessone, @grey-lysander, @confinesofpersonalknowledge, @coffeestudylive, @a-whole-lot-of-screaming, @the-straight-as-a-circle-girl,@anxie-teaa, @pinkeasteregg, @team-free-squiggle, @jamiecambrera, @nienna14

[legacyias1]

Time Management Tips from IAS Coaching Centers in Bangalore

Preparing for the UPSC Civil Services Examination is no easy feat. With a vast syllabus and fierce competition, every aspirant needs a solid strategy to make the most of their time. Fortunately, IAS coaching centers in Bangalore are known for their expert guidance, not only in academics but also in effective time management techniques. These tips can help you stay on track and maximize your productivity throughout your preparation journey.

Whether you’re attending classes at Bangalore IAS classes or self-studying, these strategies—adapted from the top UPSC coaching institutes in Bangalore—can transform the way you prepare.

1. Prioritize the Syllabus with Micro-Planning

Coaching experts often stress the importance of breaking the massive UPSC syllabus into smaller, manageable chunks. At renowned civil services coaching in Bangalore, aspirants are taught to divide their study plan into daily, weekly, and monthly goals.

For example, start your mornings with a focused review of a topic from polity or history and end your day solving practice questions. A micro-plan ensures you cover all subjects systematically, leaving no room for last-minute cramming.

2. Follow the 3-Hour Rule for Study Sessions

Many IAS academies in Bangalore recommend aspirants divide their day into focused 3-hour sessions with short breaks in between. The goal is to achieve deep concentration during these periods and complete substantial portions of the syllabus without burnout.

Faculty at Bangalore IAS classes often suggest aspirants take a short 10-minute break every hour to stay mentally fresh. This approach ensures you retain information better and avoid fatigue.

3. Make Revision a Daily Habit

One key piece of advice shared at the best IAS coaching in Bangalore is the importance of daily revision. Revisiting previously studied topics helps consolidate your knowledge and builds confidence. A popular strategy among coaching centers is the “50-10-40” method:

Spend 50% of your time studying new topics.

Dedicate 10% to quick revision of the previous day’s work.

Use the remaining 40% to attempt mock tests or write practice answers.

Aspirants who incorporate this method often find themselves better prepared for both the prelims and the mains.

4. Master the Art of Note-Making

In most UPSC coaching centers in Bangalore, faculty emphasize the importance of concise, self-prepared notes. Instead of relying solely on bulky textbooks or coaching materials, learn to distill complex topics into easy-to-revise points.

Top-performing students at IAS academy Bangalore recommend creating separate notebooks for subjects like current affairs, essays, and GS topics. Highlight important points and update them regularly to stay ahead.

5. Leverage Mock Tests and Analysis

One of the standout features of top UPSC coaching institutes in Bangalore is their extensive focus on mock tests. Regularly attempting tests under exam-like conditions helps improve time management, question prioritization, and accuracy.

However, the real trick lies in analyzing your performance. Coaching centers guide aspirants to evaluate their mistakes, learn from them, and refine their strategy. This practice ensures that you’re continually improving and saving precious time on exam day.

6. Balance Classes and Self-Study

A common challenge for aspirants at civil services coaching in Bangalore is balancing classroom learning with self-study. Faculty members recommend reviewing classroom notes the same day, ensuring you retain key concepts.

Additionally, allocate at least 4-5 hours daily for self-study, focusing on strengthening weak areas or exploring additional resources recommended by mentors at your coaching institute.

7. Maintain a Healthy Study-Life Balance

Top coaches at the best IAS coaching in Bangalore stress that time management isn’t just about study hours—it’s about overall productivity. A healthy routine that includes adequate sleep, physical activity, and relaxation is crucial for maintaining mental clarity during preparation.

Taking short walks, meditating, or engaging in a hobby can help refresh your mind and boost your efficiency when you return to your study desk.

8. Use Technology to Stay Organized

With advancements in digital tools, many UPSC coaching centers in Bangalore encourage aspirants to leverage apps for time management. Calendar tools, flashcard apps, and online test portals are invaluable for tracking progress and staying consistent.

For instance, you can use apps to schedule revision sessions, set reminders for coaching classes, or track your daily goals.

Why Time Management Matters for UPSC Success

Effective time management is the backbone of every successful aspirant's journey. The best civil services coaching in Bangalore goes beyond academics to teach students how to optimize their time. These techniques aren’t just limited to study hours—they prepare you to think critically, manage stress, and approach the exam with confidence.

As many toppers from IAS academy Bangalore point out, mastering time management can be the difference between clearing the exam and falling short. Start early, stay consistent, and adapt these expert tips into your daily routine.

[scarletsaphire]

Leslie Carilse was not someone Danny knew, but now he couldn't get her face out of his head. After all, its hard to forget the first person you failed to save.

---

For Ectoberhaunt Day 5: Haunt Not happy with this one! Don't like it! Disappointed in myself! But you bet your ass its getting posted anyway.

Last week, Danny would not have been able to tell you who Leslie Carilse was if you offered him twenty dollars, and he could really use that twenty dollars. Now, he couldn't stop seeing her face. Pictures in hallways, on lockers, on the news. Even when he closed his eyes, he could see her face staring back at him, temple bleeding, eyes rolled back into her head, because he hadn't been fast enough. He hadn't been able to save her, no matter how much he tried. Danny had failed.

He'd barely been able to sleep that night, and the couple of minutes he managed were plastered with her face, a voice that didn't belong to her because Danny didn't even know what she had sounded like echoing his failures, cursing his name, cursing him. He'd turned his alarm off the second it started beeping, having been staring at it for almost two hours at that point. He'd stumbled through his morning routine, stumbled his way to school, and was now stumbling through the halls of Casper High. 

Apparently he couldn't even get a reprieve from dreaming her face here, because there she was, pushing through the halls. Only something was off. She wasn't injured, like she had been every other time Danny had imagined her. She wasn't glaring angrily, or even looking angry at all. She just looked... confused? Maybe concerned or nervous, but definitely not mad. All she was doing was walking through the halls, weaving through the crowd of students towards Danny.

He felt the chill of his ghost sense in his chest, and he covered it with a cough on instinct. Tucker, who was next to him, sighed. "Need me to cover for you?" he whispered

Danny didn't look over at him. "I think this will be quick," he replied. He didn't bother waiting for Tucker's reply, taking off through the crowd of students towards Leslie. Once he got close enough, he grabbed her by the wrist. She was cold. Too cold. 

Leslie spun around to look at him, relief clear on her face. "Oh thank god, I thought I was going crazy!" she said. "When I went to talk with Amalie she didn't even look at me, and Charlie ignored me, and then everyone was ignoring me, and I was so scared, I thought something had happened."

Danny took a deep breath. She didn't know. She didn't know, which meant that Danny had to tell her. "Can you come with me for a second?" he said, offering a small smile.

Leslie looked at him confused, glancing down at her watch. "But class is about to start?" she said. "And like. No offense, but I don't really know you, so..."

"I get that," Danny said. "But I really do need to talk to you. Your teachers won't mind. It's really important."

Leslie chewed on her bottom lip, thinking it over. "You know what, sure. Amalie is always telling me I need to live more on the edge and all that."

Danny guided her through the crowd, not quite invisible, but close. Just enough so that anyone who glanced through the crowd would see a person there but not enough to recognize who, or what they were doing. He didn't want to scare Leslie, not with everything she was going to learn.

He pulled her off into a classroom he knew was empty. When she saw the room she stopped, more nervous than before. "If this goes where I think it might be going, you better let me go right now, or I'll scream," she said, hovering next to the door. 

Danny widened his eyes as he realized what it looked like. "Oh, um no!" he stammered, face flushing. "It's nothing like that. I'll stay over here if it makes you feel better, I just really need to talk to you."

"What about?" she asked slowly.

Danny answered equally slowly. "What do you remember from yesterday?"

Leslie's confused expression didn't change. "I went to school, had a chess club meeting, and...I walked home, I guess? I don't really remember."

"Do you know what happened on the walk home?"

"Not really? I guess I must've been a bit out of it, but its not like too much could've happened, right?"

"There was a ghost attack," Danny said.

Leslie scoffed. "Yea, there's always a ghost attack here, its not like that's big news."

"This one was different," Danny said. "Its the first and only ghost attack to result in a casualty."

"Oh," Leslie said. "That's awful. I'm sorry for your loss, but I don't really see how that affects me."

"It was on Meyers Street. A car hit a girl from our school. Around 5 o'clock."

Leslie blinked at him slowly. "I was on Meyers Street around five."

"Yes. You were."

"I don't understand. Are you saying I...?" She choked on the words, unable to get them out. 

"That's why no one has been responding you today. They can't see or hear you."

Leslie stumbled backwards until she hit the wall, leaning against it. "No, no that doesn't make any sense! We see ghosts every day, they aren't just wandering the world as an observer, they're interacting, they're-" She cut herself off, looking up at Danny. "And even if that was how ghosts were, you can see me! You can hear me! What would that make you?"

Danny let his transformation wash over him without the lightshow, meeting her eyes as his turned green. "Also a ghost."

Leslie sunk all the way to the floor, staring blankly in front of her. "You tried to save me."

Danny froze. When she said she didn't remember the fight, he'd been hopeful that maybe he would at the very least be able to postpone this conversation. At this point he should know better. "I'm sorry I-"

"I remember you trying to save me," she interrupted. "I remember that everything hurt, and that you were cold, and I could hear... crying? It was you crying, wasn't it? You were so upset."

"I'm sorry I couldn't save you," Danny whispered. 

"I'm sorry you couldn't too," she said equally as quiet. "So, I'm a ghost. What now?"

"Now," Danny said, letting his ghost form fade back into human. "I have to get to class. You can continue hanging around the school, or you can explore Amity and get to know the ghosts that stay here. You can make your way to the Realms. Just don't end up on the wrong end of a Fenton anything."

"I guess I'll be seeing you around then?" Leslie gave him a small smile. 

"Yea, I guess you will be." He returned the smile, and left the room.