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the-witches-you-couldnt-burn · 3 years

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Like I did with you

So I’ve been procrastinating hard during my study break for my exams, but here have a song fic!

Ghost of you by 5SOS

Genius comments: The song tells the tale of a heartbroken lover who has lost his significant other – due to a breakup or even suicide/death – and is refusing to accept the fact that she is never coming back.

I didn’t feel like writing angst and whenever I hear this song I feel like ballroom dancing (and I have).

Also thank you to the lovely people on the Maribat discord server!

Ao3

The sequel ‘It started with a whisper’ is up!

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Gotham Academy implemented a new ‘Study Abroad’ program due to recent funding from a local humanitarian. This program gave the students of Gotham Academy a chance to study abroad in Europe and vice versa. Countries like Sweden, Greece, Germany, Ireland and more participated in the program; offering a multitude of high schools with many different courses.

And because of that very wealthy benefactor, his son got first pick on where he would like to study. This was 100% not a forced decision at all to subtly keep track of the happenings of Paris. With that the Ice Prince of Gotham took the City of Love by storm.

He had been at Collège Françoise Dupont for the past few months, and it’s been hell. The class he had been placed into was ripping apart at the seams. There were two students that the class gravitated towards; he observed some of the others meeting in secret, without the knowledge of their respective ‘leaders’.

The first student that held the majority of the class’ focus was Lila Rossi. She was a black hole with beady green eyes, who dragged who ever was in her reach to an agonising fate. Damian saw through her deceptions and rejected her flirtations. The students that followed her, ate up whatever lie she spat out. Rossi soon learned that lies about the Wayne family and Gotham wouldn’t fly with him.

“Really? You worked with Monsieur Wayne?” The pink clad girl, Rose, squeaked.

Damian had just walked into class on his second day at the hell hole and already regretted it. He shot a glare towards the large group, “Who ever told you that is severely misinformed. My father has never worked with a minor from Europe, due to potential rumours and allegations it could cause. It is not a threat but a promise if a lie of similar caliber is spread there will be a lawsuit.” And with that he walked towards his seat in the back, the Ice Prince had cast his decree, the class’ atmosphere had frozen over.

The second student was Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Those that surrounded her were Alix Kubdel, Chloé Bourgeois, Max Kanté, Lê Chiến Kim and the occasional secret appearance from Juleka Couffaine. They didn’t view Dupain-Cheng through rose coloured lenses, they were always grounded and opinions were respected. Damian, who was a loner without Jon at his side, was satisfied by himself; Marinette respected that and didn’t force him to socialise like Lila tried to.

So that leads us to this. He stood against a sidewall of the giant banquet hall, staring out at the crowd before him. Jon was walking to wards him with a can of sprite in hand. Jon had moved to Paris with him but had been placed into a different class. The boy who was the epitome of sunshine stuck around the Ice Prince, their friendship is an enigma to the Françoise Dupont students.

Jon’s face was flushed. He had just gotten a drink after dancing for the past hour. Tonight was the night of the Collège’s formal dance for their graduating class. Skirts of all colours and fabrics swirled, as their partners (majority of whom had matching suits) twirled them to the music.

Jon, gesturing to the crowd, asked him whether he was going to stand there all night or dance. Taking a sip of his drink a smirk appears on his face, “unless the great Damian Wayne is to much of a coward to dance.”

Here I am waking up

Still can't sleep on your side

Damian’s head snapped towards the taller boy, “Are you seriously using my ego to get me to dance?”

Jon raising an eyebrow, “Well?”

If I can dream long enough

The temperamental teen stormed off, grumbling about “Jon being as bad as Todd”. Scanning the room he search for a suitable partner, there was no way he would embarrass himself by dancing alone.

You'd tell me I'd be just fine

I'll be just fine

He spotted Dupain-Cheng stood off to the side, alone. She was draped in a layered white dress with black hemming. As he neared, he realised that the asymmetrical skirt was actually a light blush with her signature apple blossom flowers embroidered. She looked up at him and he straightened his stance, slowing his pace. Her sapphire eyes locked on to his, her bangs curled off to the side along with the rest of her hair in beach waves.

So I drown it out like I always do

She gifted him a small smile, a usual occurrence within her interactions with him. He offered his left hand, bowing his head slightly. “Dupain-Che—“ he cleared his throat, “Marinette. Would you do me the honour of joining me in this dance?”

Dancing through our house

With the ghost of you

Her eyes widened, not expecting the Arabian God of a teen before her to ask her such a question. She saw his temper during class during his spats with Lila and how he kept to himself without the presence of Jon. But here he was in a fitted Armani suit that made his green eyes glow, and hair messily slicked to the side. Marinette looked at his hand, glad that her makeup mostly hid her blush.

And I chase it down

“I am...” She paused to find the right word, “I am a bad dancer. It is better for everyone that I don’t participate.”

“I can think of nothing less appealing than an evening of watching other people dance.” A small gasp escaped from her mouth before she could stop it. She watched as his mouth twitch’s downwards before his facade returned with full strength. “If you do not wish, to I won’t force you. But if you’ll allow me I’ll guide you through the dance to make sure it isn’t an utter disaster.”

With a shot of truth

Marinette’s lips quirked, giggling as she took his hand, “Your funeral Damian.”

What had he gotten himself into?

The two entered the dance floor, taking up the dance support hold. Their dance had the basic steps of the waltz, with a promenade and many spins; some as a couple and some were just Mari. Damian soon found he enjoy watching the sparkles in her dress light up as she spun. It became even more enjoyable when he discovered that the dress was her own creation.

Dancing through our house

The two made quiet conversations during their dance. Damian pulled her closer by the waist as they repeated the basic steps, their bodies perfectly in tune with each other. “You are a fine dancer despite your protests”

With the ghost of you

Marinette tilted her head up at him, blinding him with a dazzling smile. Damian’s heart fluttered, the two always had a mutual respect but it seems to have grown into a fond appreciation.

From the tables scattered around the dance floor there was a blond, with his fist clenched. Lila had dragged him off of the floor as soon as Damian and Marinette made their debuts; together. The brunette was now off angrily gossiping to Alya and any other who’d listen. It was a hot topic between Lila and Alya that Marinette loved him, although now, as he watched her dance with Damian, he was unsure as to whether that was ever true. He sat there, glued to his seat, watching the spectacle before him.

Cleaning up today

Found that old Zepplin shirt

The two dancers didn’t notice that everyone had cleared off the floor to watch them. They danced in sync, no movement was made without the other following it. Adrien had realised awhile ago that even though he didn’t have romantic feelings for Marinette, he cherished her friendship. That relationship was now tarnished due to the path he took when he first revealed his knowledge of the deceptions. His father had forced him to keep Lila happy, even if it made him miserable.

You wore when you ran away

And no one could feel your hurt

He had lost her, and he was unsure as to whether he could gain any semblance of their relationship back.

We're too young, too dumb

To know things like love

Damian lifted his partner’s right hand and twirled her three times, they both were content within their own world. The two swayed before turning together and walking around the now open space.

But I know better now (Better now)

Marinette flushed as she realised what was happening around her, leaning towards her partner she whispered, “I think we’ve become an impromptu entertainment.”

Too young, too dumb

To know things like love

Too young, too dumb

Damian subtly gazed behind her seeing their peers in a circle surrounding them. He was on the inside looking out, and he wouldn’t trade it for the world. He whispered reassurances in her ear, he wished to finish the song before he released her from his embrace. The two drowned out their audience, focusing on each other and the beat of the song.

So I drown it out like I always do

Dancing through our house

With the ghost of you

And I chase it down

With a shot of truth

That my feet don't dance

Like they did with you

The melody slowly faded off as the last lines were sung. The two finished on a basic waltz step before swaying in each other’s arms. The music ends and there is silence, blood rushed to their ears and their breaths mingled.

The two stayed in the other’s embrace, face-to-face, staring. They broke out of their trance by clapping. Looking around Marinette saw many of her peers and most of the supervising teachers applauding their performance.

Their friends broke through the crowd, Jon patted Damian’s shoulder (retracting before he got bit) while Chloe and Alix pulled Marinette back to their table to discuss what Disney magic had befallen the couple. The bluenette glanced back at her partner, mouthing a silent goodbye.

The crowd dispersed but were still buzzing from their display. Marinette was bombarded with questions, not only from her friends, but from other students about her dancing with the demon. Her stuttered replies did little to quench the crowd’s thirst. Her face must be comparable to that of a tomato.

Damian, having noticed the building crowd and Marinette’s uncomfortable stance, broke away from Jon. The crowd parted like the red sea, unwilling to be the one to anger the Ice Prince.

He offered her his arm (to which she took) and escorted her out to the patio outside. She stayed entwined with him, as she looked out at the stray Parisian night; leaning her head onto his should. Here the two could breathe. Here the two of them could be their present selves, no ghostly facades needed. It seems they could drown out anything in the presence of each other.

Unbeknownst to them, Jon had recorded their dance, along with their previous and present interactions of that night. He thought for a second to use it as blackmail material but decided to just send it off anyways. Oh the chaos it caused.

#maribat #marinette x damian #mlb x dc #daminette #adrien salt #Jon Kent has blackmail #ghost of you by 5sos #song fic #good! Chloé Bourgeois #slight Lila salt

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

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Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 13 - ao3 -

The wedding of a sect leader with the stature of Wen Ruohan was, as Lao Nie had predicted, an experience unlike any Lan Qiren had ever had before.

It was also, as Wen Ruohan had predicted, loud and full of crowds, things that Lan Qiren didn’t especially like. Luckily, despite being the groom’s ‘brother’, Wen Ruohan wasn’t requiring Lan Qiren to actually participate in any way, and he was just able to watch from a distance.

He tried not to think of Wen Ruohan’s casual admission that he had, in fact, devised the marriage just to deal with the issues with Lan Qiren’s reputation – and Lao Nie’s concern thereof, no doubt – and reassured himself that the bride was undoubtedly well prepared for her new life and would soon find her footing as the mistress of the Wen sect, where she would more than likely be happy in time.

That was how such things went, wasn’t it? Even with his sect’s notorious tendency towards love-madness, the people like his father, who married for love, were the exception and not the rule…

(He also tried not to think about the fact that Wen Ruohan accepted all the toasts for his wedding using a drinking bowl in Gusu style, painted with a border of vermilion birds, or the fact that, despite Lan Qiren having gifted a set, it was the only one of its kind on the table, leaving Wen Ruohan's new bride to drink from a much fancier gold-gilded bowl – but that was more because he didn’t understand what it meant, and wasn’t sure he wanted to.)

“Did you even get a chance to see him?” his brother asked when they returned, looking coldly disapproving.

“I did,” Lan Qiren said, thinking to himself less of the dinner that they’d shared with Lao Nie and more of the brief moment when the Lan sect delegation been about to leave, a servant appearing and whisking him off briefly back to the family quarters where Wen Ruohan, looking as composed as ever, pressed a too-familiar hand to his head and told him that he was sure he’d be seeing him again soon. “He didn’t say much.”

Nothing his brother would care about, anyway.

His brother nodded, looking unsurprised, and dismissed him, remarking unnecessarily, “You missed the first few days of classes,” as if Lan Qiren wasn’t aware of when each season of classes started for the disciples better than him. After all, Lan Qiren hoped to become a teacher one day, when he tired of traveling, and to do for future generations of the Lan sect what his teachers had done for him, and he took it as seriously as he did anything else.

The seasonal classes were his favorite, largely because such classes were open not only to the Lan sect disciples but to certain guest disciples – typically the children of rogue cultivators that the Lan sect wanted to encourage to join the sect, which meant that they had to pass through the same rigorous standards applicable to the usual sect disciples. Lan Qiren had always thought it was a shame that their classes were so limited in scope, although he acknowledged there wasn’t much to be done about it; after all, how many sects would be willing to send their children to be taught by outsiders?

A puzzle for another day.

For now, Lan Qiren made his way to the classroom, taking advantage of the lunch break to settle his things in his familiar seat at the side of the room. He hoped that coming in during the middle of the day would reduce the number of whispers that seemed to invariably greet him these days – luckily much more inclined to see him as a source of information rather than a victim or, worse, a perpetrator – but he didn’t have much faith in it.

“Hey, you’re in my seat.”

Lan Qiren looked up: it was a female disciple. Her face was unfamiliar to him, which suggested she was a rogue cultivator – while men and women lived separately in the Cloud Recesses, they came together for meals and other such events, and despite his introversion, Lan Qiren knew most if not all of his peer group by now.

“Sanren,” he said politely, rising and saluting. “Forgive me, but this has always been my seat.”

She frowned at him. “You didn’t claim it at the start of classes.”

“I missed the start of classes due to an unavoidable conflict.”

“I’ve been using it all week,” she said, and looked at him expectantly, as if anticipating an answer.

Lan Qiren wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say here. “I’ve been using it all my life. What’s your point?”

“So you’re not going to give it up for me?”

Lan Qiren stared at her. “Obviously not.”

She grinned toothily at him. “All the boys give up their seats for me. I understand that it’s a matter of etiquette.”

“Whoever told you that was lying,” he said flatly.

“Oh, I like you,” she said, and crossed her arms – an aggressive posture, although her tone, like Wen Ruohan’s, seemed more amused than anything else. How strange to see a sudden resemblance, when they very clearly had nothing else in common. “How would you know? Maybe it’s in the rules.”

Well, that was a mistake.

“Really,” Lan Qiren said, and smiled. “Why don’t we examine that supposition?”

She blinked at him, suddenly wary, but it was too late: if there was one thing Lan Qiren knew, it was his sect’s rules. Learning how to beat people over the head with them on purpose was a more recent development, and he was still working on fine-tuning that – most people started begging for mercy while he still felt irritated, but when they continued listening with apparent interest, as the rogue cultivator girl did, he swiftly forgot that he was trying to make a point and shifted over to actual enthusiasm for the subject.

“Cangse Sanren!”

Lan Qiren’s listener started and very nearly fell over – she’d put her chin on her hands at some point during the discussion of the origin of the rules regarding interactions between men and women, and hadn’t accounted for that when twisting to see who was calling her.

It was a mixed group of sect disciples, with some of Lan Qiren’s cousins and disciples of other surnames that he recognized, plus a few more that were likely rogue cultivators’ children as well.

“Oh,” she said. “You. What is it?”

“I see you got caught up in one of Lan-er-gongzi’s boring rule lectures,” one of the disciples said – one of Lan Ganhui’s friends, with Lan Ganhui himself nearby, grimacing at him in an attempt to make him stop. Lan Ganhui had gotten a lot more likely to leave Lan Qiren alone ever since Lan Yueheng had decided to befriend him, even intervening to make his friends leave off, but this time the other disciple ignored him, his eyes too focused on those ahead of him to pay him any mind; he was smiling intently at the rogue cultivator girl in a way that was clearly attempting to seem charming. “Don’t feel like you have to listen to him just because he’s main branch, you know! No one else does.”

“You shouldn’t say that,” one of the others muttered, glancing warily at Lan Qiren. It wasn’t apparent whether he was concerned about Lan Qiren’s rank, personality, or family connection.

For his part, Lan Qiren just felt tired. He would like to think that they were all part of the same sect, learning the same things, but he knew that wasn’t how the world worked. There were good people and bad in every sect, and the undercurrents that came with any community were inescapable.

“You’re joking, right?” the girl – who had the title of Cangse Sanren, apparently – said unexpectedly. “His explanation is three times more interesting than the stupid learning by rote we’ve been doing so far.”

“Learning by repetition has a long history of being the most effective way of learning something,” Lan Qiren objected. “Even the most unrepentant scoundrel would learn the rules by heart if he had to copy them down for a month, and then when that was done and the foundation built, you could get started on explaining the why of them.”

“But repetition’s not as interesting,” Cangse Sanren said. “I really liked that story about Lan Yi.”

Lan Qiren looked at her suspiciously. He’d never outgrown his tendency to speak in a dull monotone – one of his peers had once compared it to the thudding of grinding stones in a mill – and it was the rare person who actually appreciated the rules the way he did. His teachers, of course, and some of the other more studious disciples did, but even with them he’d be hard pressed to say they actually liked his rambling.

She held up her hands. “Really! I feel like I understand why she put the rule in place now, whereas before it felt like I was just learning the rule for the sake of learning the rule.”

“That’s because you need to learn the rules before you learn the background,” he said. “The rules are a house built without nails, each piece in its place doing its part to maintain the whole - one rule backs another, while being supported in turn. Only once you know what the rules are can you move to understanding the reasons behind them.”

And from understanding to accepting, allowing our ancestors’ wisdom to act as a guiding light that clears the fog from your path, he wanted to say, because he loved the rules, truly and sincerely.

People made fun of him sometimes, thinking him boring or stuffy or overly strict, with no flexibility and too little empathy, saying he was obsessed with the rules for no beneficial purpose, but to him the rules were a gift from the past to the future. The Wall of Discipline represented the accumulated life experience of dozens if not hundreds of Lan sect disciples before him, turned through debate and contemplation into advice they thought would be able to help guide those that came after them to living a good, clean, happy life. As their descendant, how could he fail to honor that which those people, who had loved him without knowing him, had strained themselves to give him?

In just the same way, it was his duty to love the future generations that had yet to be born, to act as the bridge to that unknown future, entrusted by his ancestors to carry to them the rules that would be both his inheritance and his legacy. Those nameless faces dressed in Lan white, unborn children with his brother’s face or even his own, of his cousins and fellow disciples alike, all those souls that had yet to enter this world but who he loved so much already – if he could spare them a single iota of pain through his own experience, how could he not do so, and gladly? How could he not do everything he could to give them everything he had received from the rules, that sense of pride of their history, the strength and wisdom that could be passed down no other way? How could that be a burden?

Lan Qiren had never really had the chance to explain any of that to anyone, his tongue too stiff and clumsy to convey what sometimes he felt could only be expressed in song or poetry, and he did not have such a chance now: as usual, the other disciples were already laughing, dismissing him as a teacher’s pet, overly rule-bound, obsessed with homework and test-taking, a boring old fart whose soul was prematurely aged.

“What’s wrong with being old?” Cangse Sanren asked, her voice flatter than it was before, and the boys in front of her suddenly scrambled to start apologizing so fast that Lan Qiren was left wondering what exactly he’d missed.

“Class is starting soon,” he said instead of asking, though he promised himself he’d ask around later. Surely someone would know. “Everyone should take your seat – no, Cangse Sanren, as I’ve said, that one is mine.”

She grinned unrepentantly at him and stepped back over where he’d kicked his foot out to block her. “You win, this time,” she said, and took the seat next to him with absolutely no remorse for whoever might have been sitting there before. “Watch yourself, stick-in-the-mud.”

Lan Qiren glared, though somehow Cangse Sanren’s teasing didn’t feel as annoying as the other disciples’ usually did. Even if she did make several more attempts on his seat over the course of the day, causing him to have to fend her off or think ahead to evade her latest attempt.

He initially thought that she might try to come to class early the next day to try to claim it before he did, but instead she dragged herself in only moments before class was due to start, face haggard as if waking up at the very tail end of mao hour was the equivalent to rising at yin, although she was back to her regular form soon enough, bright and clever enough to make any teacher fond of her.

This became something of a pattern, in fact – sluggish wakening, intellectual jousting during class and an unspoken competition over the seat that had formerly been reserved for him outside of it. In the afternoons she usually went off with the more martially minded disciples, while he spent his time in the library or musical halls, though at some point she started dropping off random foodstuffs by his door in the early evening as if she thought he was too thin.

“Maybe she has a crush on you!” Lan Yueheng said enthusiastically; bizarrely enough, he seemed to like romance as much as his explosions or his math.

“I think it’s a little closer to treating me like a stray cat that she found and took a shine to,” Lan Qiren said, shaking his head. All the boys in the sect would have paid in gold and jewels for Cangse Sanren to give them a second look, and she didn’t care one whit for the best of them; there was no need for her to go courting when she could get three serious offers of marriage just by winking. “Give them here, I’ll redistribute them to the younger children.”

“You can’t do that!” Lan Yueheng looked offended. “It’s her sincere offering! From the heart!”

“It’s food she purchased in town,” Lan Qiren said doubtfully. “It’s not as if she baked them herself. Anyway, I can’t eat this many sweets without getting a stomachache. What else am I supposed to do with it? Let it rot?”

“Qiren-xiong, you’re the most unromantic person I’ve ever met.”

“I’m going to assume that’s a bad thing,” Lan Qiren said, not taking offense. “Do you want some? Last offer before they’re gone.”

“…well, I mean, if you’re going to give them away anyway…”

He told Cangse Sanren what he was doing the next day, as a matter of politeness in the event that she wanted to stop once she knew what he was doing, and she just laughed – she always laughed at just about everything, he’d found. She didn’t stop delivering food, either, which he might have expected, though she did shift over into items that were easier to distribute.

Their entire mode of interacting was simultaneously very annoying and also not, and Lan Qiren didn’t have the slightest idea about what to do with it.

And then he got his first letter from Wen Ruohan.

#mdzs #lan qiren #cangse sanren #my fic #my fics #spilled pearls #sect leader lan

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didsomeonesaydaddydraco · 3 years

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Jealous | Draco Malfoy (prompt request)

Request: yes, by anon. Anon requested the following: Hiii! Could I please request a Draco Malfoy x reader with prompts 5,14,15 ? Fluffy 🥺🥺with a hint of angst if you can X)

Word count: 3,342

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!reader

Note: My requests are still open, but before you request from the prompt list, please check out the updated version. Thank you so much!

Draco Malfoy was a little bit possessive when I came to his group of friends. He had troubles with trusting someone, and getting attached to them, but when he did, all his insecurities came out. His trust issues were paired with the constant fear of losing those people, but instead of telling them how he felt, he chose the easier way and hid his feelings and fears behind the mask of an arrogant son of a bitch. He was overprotective, but supportive, jealous and hot-headed, and on top of them, stubborn as hell. Only a few people were willing to give him enough time to prove that he was actually a nice person, who was only misunderstood and troubled when it came to talking about feelings or letting his guards down. He was popular, but not for what he really was. He was well-known for being a bully, an arrogant twat, an overdramatic troublemaker and the biggest hater of mudbloods. Only his closest friends knew the real Draco Lucius Malfoy, and he was fine by that. He always thought quality was way more important than quantity. He might have thought of himself as someone who was hard to read, but in reality, it wasn’t that hard. Not for Theodore Nott. Theo was his third closest friend, being behind only Y/N Y/L/N and Blaise Zabini. While Draco went to Blaise for the fun things, like pranking the Golden Trio, throwing a secret party in the Room of Requirements or just chilling somewhere with a bottle of Fire Whiskey, he chose Theo for be his emotional support and moral compass. And he gladly took up this role, especially because he had a gut feeling that his dear friend developed deeper and more serious feelings towards their one and only Miss Y/L/N.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Theo asked Draco one day, when they were sitting in their Common Room, working on a DADA project together. Theo found him staring and smiling at Y/N, who was sitting at the other side of the room with her friends, Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass, doing each other’s hair and makeup. The girls told them in the morning that they were tired of only wearing their uniforms and boring hairstyles, and they wanted to look like themselves again. The boys didn’t understand them, but they came up with the sad excuse of having too much homework and studying, so they didn’t have to participate in their afternoon program.

“What?” Draco asked him, but never turned his gaze away from the girl, who was sitting on the ground in front of Pansy, getting her hair curled. Theo chuckled and turned his attention to their friends as well. He saw why Malfoy was so fascinated by her. Y/N was one of the most beautiful girls at Hogwarts, if not the most. Her hair was always shiny, her makeup natural but immaculate. She had an amazing style and she always smelt like jasmine and vanilla. But it was her smile that so many boys fell for. It was beautiful and bright, could make everyone’s day better.

“You know what I’m talking about” he rolled his eyes and turned back to his book “Dray, you’re in love with her”

“No, of course I’m not” he tried to deny, but the blush on his cheeks said otherwise. Draco sighed at the sight of Y/N in her spring dress and curly hair. She looked amazing, and he couldn’t help but wonder if she had her eyes on someone. They had known each other for years, she was still nice to him when he was an annoying rat at first grade, and she was one of his real friends. They spent so much time together, it was literally impossible for Draco to imagine his days without her. He saw her getting a crush from time to time, but they passed just as quickly as they came. He even saw her falling in love with Adrian Pucey, and he was by her side when they broke up. It was a mutual decision. After a year and a half of complete confusing for Draco, he felt relieved when she said they decided with Adrian to stay just friends, because they weren’t working as a couple anymore. Draco knew from then that it wasn’t just a friendly love anymore. He knew why he was always so moody and needy during the time of their dating. He hated to see him holding her hand, hugging and kissing her in the corridors. He realised he wanted to be the one who did those things to her. If he learnt only one thing from his father, it was how to treat a woman right. He was Lucius still surprising Narcissa with flowers and dates, just to keep the smile on her face. He saw the love they had, even though what his family’s secret was. And he wanted that. Draco wanted to put a single white rose on her desk before class, just to see that beautiful smile on her face. He wanted to hug her in their sleep, whispering sweet nothings in her ear and hear her giggle when he tickled her. He wanted to kiss her perfect lips and show her how much she means to him.

“Than I guess you don’t mind that George asked her out after Potions today” Theo said, knowing very well he hit a nerve with that. If it wouldn’t have been enough that someone had the audacity to ask her out before Draco finally get the courage to do that, it had to be a Weasley. He was well aware of how Draco felt towards them, and how he wanted only the best for her. He said so many times, that she deserved a pureblood Slytherin who could identify and maintain the lifestyle she grew up with. Theo knew Draco was actually talking about himself, and he was sure he was the guy who could actually make her the happiest, but it wasn’t his place to get them together. They had to realise on their own how they were feeling. He knew the unspoken rules of both families, how they preferred another Pureblood, preferably a Slytherin marrying their only child, but Y/N never really cared about blood status. She knew they were all equal, some of them not fortunate enough to be born in a rich family.

“He did what?” Draco almost yelled, and his sudden outburst of emotion brought the girls’ attention to their table. Y/N looked at him with raised eyebrows, asking him without words what the hell was going on. He only shook his head and sent a small smile toward her. He felt sick by the single thought of a Weasley having an arm around her.

“You’re jealous, aren’t you?” Theo laughed and leaned back in his chair. He watched Draco’s face with an amused look. It was funny to see the always pale boy with red cheeks and even more furrowed eyebrows. Draco looked at his friend with an annoyed expression and picked up his quill. He wanted to deny it, but the feeling was too strong. He just recently learnt what jealous really felt, and he was battling with that feeling. He hated to admit that he got a soft sport for someone, and how he got jealous. He was jealous of someone else having Y/N’s attention. Not because he was needy or insecure. If he was sure about someone’s unconditional love, support and loyalty, it was her. He just didn’t want someone else to realise how amazing she was and for them to steal her away from him. He just didn’t want to lose her to someone else. She was his peace.

“I’m not jealous” he murmured and from the corner of his eyes, he checked her. She was looking at her dress in the mirror, twirling around to see how the dress hugged her body. Draco felt the oh so familiar warm feeling in his heart when he saw her. He didn’t care what she was wearing, she looked absolutely amazing in everything. Just as he opened his mouth to tell Theo to go back studying, Y/N skipped to them with a huge smile on her face.

“Hi, boys” she greeted them sweetly and stood by Draco’s side. He took a deep breathe, letting her sweet scent fill up his nose “So, I have plans for now, but Pansy and I were wondering if you two wanted to go the Hogsmeade tomorrow, to buy some things for Blaise’s surprise party”

“What about Daphne?” Theo asked, hoping the girl had other plans. They never liked each other, and only tried to get along, when they were with their group. Y/N laughed, and assured him it would only be the four of us. The boys looked at each other, both of them thinking the same thing. Maybe they could turn the shopping into a double date at the Three Broomsticks. Theo wasn’t the only one who caught on the secret glances, the moodiness when Pansy was talking to another boy. Draco knew very well Nott fancied the Parskinson girl, but was too intimidated to ask her out.

“Sounds good to me” Draco smiled at her and put his hand on the small of her back, stroking it with his thumb. He smiled even bigger when he saw the light blush on her cheeks “Maybe we could get a few drinks at the Three Broomsticks?”

“Amazing idea” she bleamed at them “Alright, I have to go now, or I’ll be late, but we’ll discuss the details later”

“Bye, darling” Draco said with a soft tone and watched as she hurried out of the Common Room. For a second he forgot where she was heading. For that second, he was happy and warmed by their small encounter.

“Bye, darling” Nott mocked him in a teasing tone. He would have laughed at him, if he wasn’t already making plans in his head for tomorrow. The four of them always had the best time, and he was really looking forward to spend some time with Pansy and watch how his friends were acting around each other, like they weren’t secretly already in love.

“Shut up” Draco throw a ball of paper at him and turned back to his essay. He wanted to finish it, so he didn’t have to worry about it and rush back from their day together just to finish it in time for class.

——

Draco wanted to stay in the Common Room and wait for Y/N to come back, but he had Quiditch practise so he had to leave. He tried his best to shut her out of his mind during practice, but it was impossible after he saw Y/N and George in the courtyard, sitting together and giggling at something. Draco couldn’t erase the picture from his memory, and his anger got the best of him. Flint shouted at him several times to get his shit together and focus on the game, but he couldn’t. He wanted to go back and punch the Weasley boy in the face for being so close to his girl. Unfortunately, it would have been weird, considering that she was only his in his mind. The way she giggled and how interested she looked by George hunted him during practise. His stomach dropped at the thought of someone else having her. Draco was glad when Flint said they should cut their practice short due to raining. He wanted to be back in his dorm room, sulking over how much of a coward he was for not making a move on her. And now, he had to watch her falling in love with someone else. Again.

He was rushing back to the Slytherin Common Room, basically running down the corridors, when he saw Y/N and Weasley standing under the arcade, still talking about something. He felt like he was stabbed, when he saw Y/N wearing George’s jacket. He slowed down his steps, watching them waiting for the rain to stop. He waited for something. He couldn’t tell why he was being a masochistic. Maybe if he saw them kissing, or holding hands, it could have helped him to move on. But it never happened. He heard the Weasley boys quiet voice thanking her for meeting up and a quick goodbye before he rushed through the courtyard. Y/N adjusted the jacket on her shoulder and took a few quick steps, but Draco was fast in her heals. He didn’t know what had gotten into him, he just wanted to let out everything. He wanted her so bad, and he wished that he was what she wanted, and not someone else.

“Y/N” he called after her. She stopped in her steps and turned around. Y/N arched her eyebrow, wondering what Draco was doing outside in such a bad weather. He hated when his hair got wet, and he hated it even more if one of his expensive shoes got dirty because of the mud “What are you wearing?”

She was surprised by the envy and anger in his voice. Draco never talked to her like that before. She never gave him reason to. He was just fine a couple hours earlier when they were talking about their Saturday plans with Theo and Pansy, so his sudden mood swing confused her.

“Uhm” she played with the sleeve of the jacket, not being entirely sure what to say “It started raining and I was a bit cold, so Georgie offered me his jacket so I don’t het sick”

“Georgie?” He basically spat the name out of his mouth “Now what? Are you two giving each other bloody nicknames?”

“What the hell got into you, Draco?” She asked. Y/N knew that Draco found the Weasley twins the least annoying out of their family, and something laughed at their pranks “It was a nice gesture”

“A gesture to get into your panties” Draco almost yelled. He wasn’t mad at her. He wasn’t even mad at George for being a man enough to ask her out. He was mad at himself for being scared of his own feelings.

“Fuck you, Draco” she scoffed and turned around to leave, but he grabbed her wrist and pulled her back. Y/N groaned. She was annoyed by him, and didn’t want to deal with his possessiveness in the pouring rain. Her clothes and hair was all wet, and she was craving for a hot shower and some more comfortable clothes.

“No, fuck you” he was now shouting. He was done with hiding his feelings and seeing how every boy at Hogwarts could have had her, because she was single “Fuck you for liking every boy more, but me. Fuck you for not noticing how hard I’m trying to get your attention. Fuck you for not seeing how much effort I’m putting into this whole thing just to make you see what’s right in front of you” he was pouring his heart out in the rain. It could have been one of the most romantic things, if they weren’t at the verge of arguing, and they weren’t shouting at each other. Draco dropped his head with a heavy sigh. He didn’t want to see the disgust or hate on her face “I shouldn’t be jealous, you aren’t even mine”

“What are you talking about?” She was more confused than ever before. Her heart skipped a beat with every word that left Draco’s mouth. She hoped his feelings were true. She wondered how he could be so blind all this time. How he didn’t see the way she looked at him? How he didn’t feel her hugs were always longer and tighter when she hugged him? How could he not tell he was her soft spot? “Draco?”

“It doesn’t matter. I hope your date was fun” his words were soaked with envy. Y/N’s eyes widened what he said. Date?

“What date?” She laughed a little bit “I only met Georgie because he needed help with something. He has a huge crush on this Hufflepuff girl, Annah, and asked me to give him some good date ideas”

“You were never supposed to mean this much to me” he said like he didn’t hear what she just told him “I was never supposed to fall so hard. But you know what? I did and that’s the truth” Draco looked at her with hopeful eyes. Maybe they could have a chance “Don’t you see, Y/N?” He laughed dryly. It was pathetic how he was being a softie. He hated how vulnerable he felt, standing in front of her, wearing his heart on his sleeve, confessing his love to the girl who was probably thinking of him just as a good friend “I don’t want anyone else to have your heart, kiss your lips, or be in your arms, because that’s only my place”

There it was. All words said. No taking them back. Draco finally felt proud of himself for being brave enough and facing his emotions and feelings.

Y/N bleamed at the words. He said what she wanted to hear from him for so long. Her heart was beating in her throat and she felt like no breathe would have been enough for her. She couldn’t say anything. Her words were stuck in her. How could she say something as beautiful as he did? Those were a little bit harsh words, but meant more than the most beautiful love poem in the whole world.

“Kiss me you twat” she laughed and took a step closer to Draco, who was still in shock after just confessing everything that he felt. He couldn’t even understand what she asked him, because his mind was numb. He saw her lips moving and feeling her sweet scent in his nose again, but he couldn’t tell what he was supposed to do. Y/N caught him off guard when she grabbed his jumper and pulled him into a kiss. At first, he didn’t kiss back. His body couldn’t understand a single thing that was happening right there, and he just stood there. But his brain switch back on again, when he felt her pulling away. He dreamed of this moment so many times. He tried to imagine how soft her lips were and how she tasted. He always imagined if she tasted like her favourite peppermint gum. But he never thought their kiss would be like this. He melted into her lips and his heart skipped every second beat. Draco had his arms around her small body, keeping her close, not letting her go. He wanted to stay like that for eternity, with the girl of his dreams in his arms, kissing her and feeling her heartbeat against his chest.

“You know” he murmured in between kisses “I wanted to beat the shit out of that blood traitor, when he…” he couldn’t finish his sentence, because Y/N put her hand over his mouth to silence him.

“Of course you wanted, boo” she cued at him with a funny expression “You can tell me more about how you wanted to, but for now, let’s go back to the Common Room and just cuddle”

“Can I have more kisses?” He asked in a childish voice and wide eyes. She found him the most adorable, yet sexiest man ever. She rolled her eyes and took his hand happily.

“Of course” she giggle, and they ran to the Common Room hand in hand, laughing at each other for almost slipping and falling to the ground. Draco was the happiest, and was ready to show the whole school he was the lucky man who had Y/N Y/L/N’s heart, and they were more than welcome to stay away from his girl if they didn’t want his father to hear about their sad excuse of flirting with her.

#Draco Malfoy #daddy draco #draco fanfiction #Draco Malfoy fanfiction #Draco Malfoy one shot #Draco Malfoy imagine stories #Draco Malfoy imagine #Draco Malfoy x reader #Draco Malfoy x Slytherin reader #jealous Draco malfoy #prompt list request #tom felton #harry potter #Harry Potter fanfictions

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olivarryprompts · 3 years

Text

Fanfic Friday #11

Welcome to Fanfic Friday! Each Friday I post a new here and on A03. Enjoy x

Read and save it on A03 here https://archiveofourown.org/works/33567529

{fancy suits from dad}

Ships: Peter Stark & Tony Stark, Pepper Pots/Tony Stark

Warnings: swearing, just fluff otherwise :)

Wc: 2,319

Here’s the thing, Peter Parker grew up in Stark Tower, which eventually became Avengers Tower of course. So whilst his whole class was buzzing about their field trip, all he could think was, “shit, shit shit.” His dad was going to embarrass the hell out of him. His Aunts and Uncles were going to endlessly tease him.

So, no Peter was not looking forward to the field trip. Not in the slightest. He still wanted to go, though. He knew that the rumors of his internship being fake were started by Flash, the annoying teen. He also knew that Flash had not once said his real name, preferring the name Penis Parker. It didn’t bother him as much as it used to. Also since highschool began, Flash had calmed down with his bullying. Well, maybe Flash hadn’t calmed down and high school was just bigger and he had thicker skin. And a new support system with plenty of people to go to.

Peter had been adopted by the Starks when he was a mere ten years old. At first, he was terrible at receiving any gifts or even too much attention. Slowly but surely, he got more and more used to it. Now, he wouldn’t not know what to do if any of that was taken away. Plus, he really did find a liking for expensive suits, however shallow. He looked good in them, and his father always insisted on buying him more and more. Tony would always find an excuse to spoil the kid a little more, however much Pepper tried to stop him.

“Peter, please see me after class regarding an urgent matter.”

Brough out of his thoughts, Peter swiftly nodded his head.

He looked at the board to see the words from before still written on them, “Field Trip to Stark Industries!” It might as well have said, “Dig Peter Stark’s Grave!”

“So, let’s get started with today’s lesson, graphing imaginary numbers on the complex plane!” He’d done this one a while back with his father. Something about not only learning applicable science and engineering. Peter tapped his glass, and the episode of Arrow he’d been watching on the car ride over began playing. He’d be ever grateful for his father’s gift of EDITH to him. Pepper had tried to ban him from wearing them to school, but hastily gave up when Peter pulled the spiderman danger card.

“Alright, class dismissed. Please remember to do this homework pages 11-18 on this unit’s homework handout.”

Peter, forgetting his teacher's previous request, was very glad to be on his way home. He was one foot out of the door when the teacher called his name. Now, his day had gone pretty well up to that point. Bucky made pancakes for breakfast, which were delicious. There was wayyy less traffic on the way to school. He’d aced an essay and a couple of quizzes, and then he even participated in PE effectively. But alas, all good things had to come to an end.

“Mr. Parker? The discussion.”

“Right,” Peter thought, joining the teacher at his desk.

“Peter, you are truly a great kid. I know you’ve been through a lot recently and in your life, but it is no excuse to make up an internship. We both know that it is not real. Now, acknowledging that you have a bright future, the administration and I have come forward with an offer. If you agree to write an apology, expressing that you understand what you did was wrong and immoral, you will both be allowed to come on the trip and no punishment will be given to you. If you choose to not take this opportunity, you will be banned from the trip and will be chastised.

Peter just stood there, not really comprehending. Apparently Flash’s little rumors were a lot bigger than he anticipated.

“I-i-I’m not lying,” was all he could manage. He had filed all the right paperwork and proved his internship.

“I’m sorry to hear that you will not come forward with the truth. You have up until the day before the trip to hand in the letter if you change your mind. Goodbye Peter.”

Peter just let his legs take him out of the classroom, then out of the school, and then to the road, a couple blocks away, where his dad picks him up from.

“Hello mini-me.”

“Hey,” Peter said, jumping into the passenger seat.

“‘Hi Dad, thanks so much for taking time out of your busy schedule to pick me up each and every day. Sick new car by the way! I’d love to drive it sometime!”

Peter just rolled his eyes with a smile, “Car looks great dad. McLarren’s are superior yet.”

“Ungrateful, so so ungrateful. What’s got you in a mood then?”

“Nothin,” Peter said, pulling out his phone.

“Oh come on, tell me. Tell me or I’ll call Ted.”

“Ned, Dad. We’ve been friends for like three years.”

“Not the point.”

“Just something at school.”

“Wow how very descriptive. You know I’m trying to do the whole feelings thing here, and you should appreciate that coming from my emotionally stunted self.”

“You’re so dramatic. Basically we’re having a field trip to your tower, and I’m not allowed to go because the teacher doesn’t think I really have an “internship.” Which, to be fair I don’t but that’s on you and not me.”

“Nah na na. I offered you an internship, and you said I’d be bored.”

“It would be. Doing a project for your company under strict supervision of some person would be sucky. I mean I can do anything I want from the lab you built me.”

“I know, but remember technically you are my intern. Remember we did that whole personal intern bullshit for the school.”

“Oh right. Is that why you keep harassing me about submitting all my completed projects.”

“No, that’s all your mother. Something about not wanting a lawsuit over a fake internship.”

“Make sense. She tends to be a lot smarter than you.”

“Ah, I feel so attacked. The abuse I suffer.”

“You’re terrible.”

“I am internally crying, kid. Sobbing.”

“Shut up,” we laughed.

“Who’s home?”

“You saw Buck and Sam this morning. Nat and Steve came back from their mission this afternoon. Thor and Loki are back for dinner tonight.. Strange might be coming round, not sure though. Cliff and the family aren’t back for at least a couple weeks. Oh and Bruce is wholed up in his lab as usual.”

“Shit. Everyone staying till the end of the week.”

“Yeah, oh the field trip. You’re screwed. You should have not told me.”

“Ughhhhh!!!”

“I love your life Petey.”

Peter walked into the kitchen and saw Steve reading a newspaper.

“Uncle Steve! Your back!” he smiled, dropping his bag off near the sofa. Steve got up to give the smaller boy a hug.

“Yep. Mission completed.”

“Nice. Can you tell me about it?”

“Yeah, it was nothing too interesting. We just needed some more intel into a terrorist organization stationed in the US. Most of the mission was recon. The next steps are being taken in a couple weeks.”

“Good to know there’s an active terrorist organization out there,” Peter said lightly.

Steve just smiled, not quite understanding the modern humor.

“Where is everyone else?” he said, realizing the living room was not in it’s normal chaotic state that he’d come to love. The chaos was his favorite reminder that he had so many people. He liked having lots of people, even after all this time.

“Nat and Buck are training, they invited you to join if you want. Bruce is in his lab, and dont worry he slept and ate last night. Not sure about the rest.”

“Right, thanks. I think I’m going to go train.”

Before he knew it, it was Friday morning, and his school was coming to his home. He was going to try very hard to ignore them. To do so, he asked his mum to let him sit in on some meetings. He had an easy in to the R&D and mechanical side of the company via the other interns. He was actually planning on hanging out with some of the “other” interns later that day. They were always happy to let Pete in on their projects and let him give them a hand. But he was always interested in getting more detail about the business side of the company, and he liked to get a window into it. Pepper was always happy to show her son the ropes. I mean he was heir to the company after all, even if he didn’t know yet.

He asked his mum to only schedule meetings after 12 as he requested a sleep in. Pepper was always happy when Peter slept as he was a little too much like his father. So, he woke bright and early at 11:00 o’clock.

After a scroll through his phone and a quick shower, he was ready to pull on his far too expensive Brunellio’s custom suit. It was one of his favorites. His father had got it custom made when he was in Italy, and told him he simply could not resist getting one for the kid. Pepper just smiled.

He had a large breakfast (enhanced metabolism) and headed towards the 34th floor where his first meeting was located. He’d been shadowing his mum for almost a year now whenever it was convenient, so he had the rointine down. He was almost sure he could take over a few of her meetings.

“Hi honey,” Pepper said, giving the boy a quick kiss on the cheek on the way to her own chair beside him. Peter blushed before resuming his professional posture and facial expression.

“Good morning everyone, as you can see Peter will be joining us today. I want to talk about some of the services we provide for our employees and their feedback. I’m aware we have a large portion to talk about so Kendra please take it away on that front.”

The first meeting went smoothly as planned. It was a discussion on the progress of the internal services, aka the IT department. Peter hadn’t learned much about their IT department, so it was good to listen in to. Pre these meetings, he, of course, does research into the background stuff, so he’s not completely lost. Pepper’s assistant usually provides him with a packet of info about the Stark Industries side of things. He is also given a list of key words and concepts he might want to make sure he understands. The research is fun for him, it makes him feel all professional.

Usually he spoke during the meetings, asking a couple questions and suggesting some ideas, but for this one he just learned and took in. The next meeting, however, was very much so his field. He’d spoken a lot with advertising, becoming very interested in the data analysis behind it. He even took a stats class so he could keep up. In that one he asked questions Pepper was on the verge of asking twice. He also contributed to the analysis of data once. Pepper usually liked him to participate as it was good for him, but he always felt bad suggesting stuff to the senior adults. He usually spoke to his mum or dad about projects for the company, preferring that.

They hung back in the room of the second meeting.

“Good job in this one Pete. Took two questions right off my tongue.”

“Thanks ma,” he said, always appreciating some approval.

“That’s all I’ve got for you today, kid. Rest of the stuff is, ya know.”

“Course. Thanks for these two. It was good to learn about internal affairs a bit more. Have a gap of knowledge there.”

“Yeah. Was that the first time meeting our CIT?”

“I believe so.”

“Well, next time we have a broader IA meeting, I’ll pull you outta school,” Pepper suggested.

“Really? That’d be epic.”

“Course, hun. Jarvis, sort that out please.”

“Of course Mrs. Potts.”

“Thanks J,” Peter yelled.

“Anytime mini-boss. No need to disturb the entire floor.”

“Are AI supposed to be so snarky?”

“Dad programmed it, what else would it be?”

“Valid point.”

“Right, got to run. See you later.”

“Bye, love you mum!”

“Love you too, Pete.”

“Jarvis, could you send me the tour plan for the visiting tour today?”

“Absolutely, sir. They’re on your phone now.”

“Thanks J.”

Looking at the plans Peter smiled. He had successfully avoided them the entire day. It said they were supposed to head back to school at 2:30, and it was about to be three. Smile on his face, he trotted down to the lobby to grab a coffee before going to meet Loki at the arcade. Don’t judge them, it was their thing. Taking the private lift down, and then walking straight to the coffee stand and ordering.

“Mr. Parker!” he heard the angry voice of his teacher, “How dare you show up here aft-”

Shit. shit. Shit.

“Edith, call dad, and tell him it’s urgent in the lobby.”

“Of course Peter.”

“Peter, are you listening to me! You are going to face extreme consequences for this.”

“Your coffee,” the man said, not realizing it was Peter, level ten personal of the tower, that was being yelled at.

“Thanks.”

“How dare you get coffee! In this building! Security!”

Tony arrived spotting his son instantly.

“Kid this best be impor- I see.”

“Hey Mr. Stark,” Peter said weakly.

“Mr. Harrington is it? Please stop harassing my intern.”

“H-he, he is y-your intern?”

“Yes. My favorite. Please exit the building and never question him again. You will be hearing from me.”

Let’s just say, Monday was an interesting day. At least Flash backed off, he was definitely an intern at SI, and no one embarrassed him on the trip.

#peter parker field trip #irondad #ironfam #iron man #tony stark #pepper potts #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #avengers fanfiction #the avengers #mcu fanfic #bucky barnes #domestic avengers

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vinylhazza · 4 years

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A Lesson Learned (E.D) Part 1.

Summary: Ethan’s job as a teacher is to give his students the best education that he can. But when Y/n, a student that has caught his eye a time or two, catches him by surprise in his classroom during lunch, he’s unable to hold back the fire that was sure to break free at some point.

Word Count: 8.1k

Warning: Rough sex between student and teacher. You're welcome.

Ethan wasn't stupid. He knew that the girls in his class snickered and swooned over him from the minute they walk through that classroom door, to the very moment they left. That’s why he had a set of rules. They were simple, but very clear and strongly advised. 1. No consults or help during lunch 2. No help after school, under any circumstances. It was just too risky. It wasn't that he was worried he would slip up, it was just that the girls in his class were very bold with their advancements towards him and he was concerned it would get too out of hand if he allowed them to come in whenever they wanted for “help.” Because help was never really help with them. However; he did give the students an option to come in during a free period, where teachers flittered through the halls and his door was always open. He has yet to see any of the girls take him up on that offer, except maybe one of two that don’t really need the help.

He had three classes, Seniors, Juniors, and Freshmen. All Composition and Reading. They were all pretty much the same, just a slight curriculum change to make it harder for each grade as he saw fit. The girls in his Senior class were the worst with their flirtatious behavior, so bad sometimes that he’s had to call them out or send them to the principals office - feigning that he’s concerned they won't be able to focus enough in his class because of their small crush. It was a serious problem - some even slipped him their number when handing in their papers or passing notes on purpose during class because they knew he would take them away if they were caught. He’s never used them of course, simply throws them in the trash with a shake of his head. He wasn't meaning to be cocky about it, it just made him a bit nervous and uncomfortable. Unfortunately, some girls still hadn't gotten the memo.

But he was still surprised when he heard the light tapping on the closed door, small shadows of feet appearing against the tiled floor just outside. He understood that it was nearing the end of the semester and the students might be panicking a bit too hard over their studies, he’s been there a time or two during high school and college. But his rules were set in place for a reason. He figured it was better to make the rule for everyone rather than show “favorites”. He knew some of the students would probably love the extra study time, but he just couldn't take the chance. The lunch rule wasn't even his decision quite frankly, it was also a school rule that you must reside in either the lunch room, football field, or atrium during lunch hours - no sneaking off on your own agenda without a valid reason. Coming to his classroom wasn't really a valid reason. Yes, some students slipped past the radar, but it wasn't often. Girls were sneaky, and being one of the only males in an all girls school, he started to learn their little tricks.

He sat still behind his desk, eyes glued to the stand still shadow behind the aquatex glass window of the door. A frown stretched across his face as he wondered who it could be, the place was normally deserted and quiet during lunch break - a good 45-60 minutes of absolute silence. Depended on the day. He wondered briefly who it was and what they wanted. Even though the knock was quiet, it nearly scared him - that’s how unusual sound was at this time of day. He was sure he could blast his music as loud as he could and no one would be able to hear. He didn’t of course, it would disrupt his concentration.

It bothered Ethan sometimes that he had such a close eye on him at all times. Just because he was young, with a tall, sturdy frame, thick hair, strong jawline, plump pink lips, and a naturally prominent bulge that he couldn't hide no matter how hard he tried. There were always eyes watching his every move. No, he wasn't the type to flaunt his sex appeal. He didn't like that he was watched like a hawk because he was “hot”. He knew he was watched, knew the women lusted after him, but he kept himself in check. He also knew he was attractive, confident, and had a charm that could sway any girl to be on their knees within seconds. He’d used it quite a few times in college. But as far as he was concerned, he was at the school to teach Composition and Reading - not to stare at girls in their tiny skirts or at their shirts that they refused to button the way they should. He wasn't here for that, plus half of the girls were underage anyway. That and it was just simply wrong. Strictly against the rules.

And it wasn't just the students that would throw themselves at him - but the female staff as well. That made the eyes on him even heavier, as if someone higher up was just waiting for him to slip up, take the bait and get himself into a mess he’s sure he’d never get out of. Because of the close watch on him, he would try and escape from the prying eyes of his co-workers during his lunch break just to sit by himself and get much needed work done that he might not have time for at home or during the day. He liked that this was his alone time without anyone bothering his concentration. He actually thought it was one of the crucial parts of his school day.

He got enough sex to satisfy his needs elsewhere anyhow, not much, but enough. It slowed down after he had a small fling with a female teacher when he first arrived at the school - but it ended as quickly as it started. He fucked her twice and then she turned obsessive and he had to end it in the kindest way he could. He didn't have the energy for the “coworker against coworker” fiasco that would surely start if the word got out that he rejected her after they’d had sex. It would sound dishonorable to everyone that didn't understand the situation. But other than that, it was women he took interest in that were friends of friends, even some women he’s hooked up with before. It wasn't like when he was in college - he was kind of a sex crazy beast in his younger years. That hasn't changed, he just didn't have as much opportunity. Though since he wasn't really meeting anyone at school, he wasn't making it a point to go and find a random female to fuck. Just wasn't his forte. But he liked to believe he got enough. Enough to keep him from going insane.

He sighed softly, not all that happy about being interrupted, but not wanting to ignore whoever it was and be rude. He set his blue inked pen down, stopped the soft music playing from his phone, and pushed the hair back on his head neatly. He noticed that on many occasions it gets quite frazzled from him tugging on it when he was bored or frustrated. He wondered for a moment if it was just another teacher wanting to come and sit with him for some company, but that didn't sound appealing for him if he’s honest. He wanted to be alone and most of the teachers knew that. He cleared his throat, just to assure the person who was waiting that he was inside, before he finally spoke out calmly, but with enough volume that whoever it was could hear him, “Come in.”

The door opened slowly, slowly enough that he just knew it wasn't a teacher. Teachers opened the door with purpose, not a hint of shyness in sight. Students were always the ones that opened the door like it weighed 100 pounds. That thought in mind, he wasn't really surprised that he was right. But he was surprised to see the familiar face of one of his best students. He recognized her beautiful face immediately as she appeared slowly from behind the door. Blushing cheeks and all.

She stood almost nervous with her snug white blouse and grey plaid skirt. A dull outfit for such a bright girl. But it wasn't her fault she had to wear a uniform. He knew what the girls had to wear and he knew she was a little older than the rest of the girls in her class. She was in his Senior class he remembered. She was ravishing. Utterly fucking gorgeous and he couldn't deny it. Ethan tried his hardest not to look down her body. But he found himself holding back more than he thought was normal. She was normally very shy, sat in the back, had her head low during class, fiddled with her pen a lot. She had cute quirks that he caught onto early in the year. She was always the first to hand in her paper, and it was always excellent, had neat handwriting and wonderful thoughts - but she refused to participate in class discussions. He never thought anything of her silence, so he thought it was strange that she would come to his class unannounced and during a time she wasn't allowed. He knew she knew the rules that had been set in place for all four years and even before that.

She took a step inside the room, hands toying with the white bottom button of her blouse. A small smile rushed to her face at the sight of his eyes lingering on her patiently.

“Can I help you?” He ushered her forward, earning him a small nod and the view of her turning around the shut the door softly behind her. He took note that she twisted the lock quickly, secretively. His eyes flickered with confusion at her actions, but he shook his head to rid the look before she turned back around and took a step closer to him with a nervous huff from her rosy lips. If he looked closer, he might see her visibly shaking.

“You know I don’t usually offer help during lunch,” he explained, knowing she knew, but making it clear that she was breaking the rules. He felt bad for a moment that he sounded so harsh and cold. He was unsure why she was even here, she was the top of her class - she’d always had a steady A in the class - and every other class he’s sure. Surely she didn't really need the help.

“I know Mr. Dolan I’m sorry, I just need a little bit of help,” she finally spoke, doe eyes blinking a few times at him, showing off her long lashes. He saw that her pupils were dilated but chose to ignore it. He didn't want to make any assumptions that weren't true.

“You can come back 5th hour if you’d like, I don't really have the time during lunch...Y/n right?” He pondered, leaning back in his chair, crossing his arms over his broad chest while he stared her down. God she was beautiful.

“Uh yeah.” A sweet smile makes it’s way to her face, along with a pinky blush. She rocks back and forth on her heels, a nervous habit he’s noticed a few times this year. She doesn't ask many questions, but when she does she always falls into that habit. She just never knew what to do with herself when it came to him.

“Well, Y/n just come back in a few hours with any questions you have and we can go from there, sound good?” The way she’s making his heart race is making him sweat, his hand coming up to loosen the tie from around his neck. He felt like he might choke if she kept batting her eyelashes at him like that.

“You don’t even have a second to listen?” she simpered, dipping her head to the side and giving him her best puppy dog eyes. There was a glimmer in her eyes he hadn't ever seen before, it had him clearing his throat once more. He really wanted to cut her some slack, just feeling the nerves radiating off of her was making him nervous now. The way she’d said it made it seem like she came to talk to him about a personal problem, and that alone had him tensing up from his neck to his shoulders. He’s not really all that good with personal problems, hell he’s not even good with his own. Plus if this is true, he doesn't know why in the hell she would go to him and not any of the many female teachers in the building who were far more equipped to help.

“I really don't mean to be bothering you, I can see your really busy. I’m just kind of nervous about my grades and with finals coming up I’m getting in my head about all of the work...” she carries on, resulting to chewing on her bottom lip to ease the nerves coursing through her.

“There’s really nothing to worry about, Y/n. You’ve always excelled in this class and I’m sure the final won’t be any different. I can assure you that you’ll find it easy. I can give you extra study material if you’d like, just to freshen up.” He really was trying to pacify her, not knowing exactly what to say to someone that was so nervous about a class that was clearly so easy for them. Not only that but she kept chewing on her fucking lip and it was driving him mad. She wouldn't even meet his eyes, seemingly making it worse for him.

“Honestly...that’s not really my problem,” she admitted with a sigh while she stepped the tiniest bit closer, noticing his eyes flicker down to where her silky smooth thighs rubbed together while she walked, “I kind of need some personal advice, sir. It’ll only take a second.”

The look she was giving him from under her long lashes was void of any of the shyness he’d seen moments before, no. This time he could see something devious and lustful pooling in her dilated pupils. She watched him closely as a look of confusion took over his handsome features once again. He chose to ignore the fact that she was now standing directly in front of his desk, keeping his eyes trained solely on her face and nowhere else.

“I think a female teacher would be better fit to counsel you with a personal problem, miss Y/l/n. I’m afraid I wouldn't be too much help,” he smiled softly at her, eyes full of sympathy. So handsome. “But I do advise you to get back to lunch before an administrator finds you in here. I don’t think they’d be too happy about seeing a student roaming the halls when it’s such a nice day outside.”

“Sir, I don't think you understand,” she rushes, “I really need your help. I came to you for a reason.”

He watches her tongue dart out and wet her lips quickly, but he noticed nonetheless. He notices a lot of the things she does.

“Is it serious? If it’s serious you should see the principal. But you really should get back to lunch, Y/n,” he urges on before she has a chance to answer, “You may come back 5th hour if you’d like. I’ll have more time to talk. But it’s best if you get back to your friends.” He’s nervous about how close her body is, breath turning shallow from the sweet smell of her perfume.

Her brows dip down as she huffs, frustrated that he’s not catching onto her obvious flirting - and if he is, that he’s not giving her anything to work with. Ethan sits upright just as she rounds his desk, the toe of her shoe pressing against the wheel to roll the chair back further. He stays still, staring up at her looming frame over him, too shocked to do anything else. If he was expecting anything from her, it definitely wasn't that. He feels the soft tips of her hair rubbing against his cheekbone just as she swings her leg over his exposed lap, fitting to him snug. She’s straddling him, clothed core pressed right up against his bulge. Her skirt was bunched up over her thighs, smooth skin exposed for him to touch if he wished.

“You see the thing is...none of the female teachers have what I want...what I need,” she whispers, staring into his hazel eyes that gawk at her twirling his tie between her fingers. Her tone is suggestive, seductive, everything it shouldn't be towards her teacher.

“Miss Y/l/n, this is extremely inappropriate,” he grunts, wanting to push her off of his lap in shock, but instead raising his hands so he’s not touching her at all. If someone tries to come in he doesn't want them to see his hands even near her body that fits with his so...perfectly. No he needs to focus.

“I’m just really stressed and anxious sir,” she whispers again, running her hands down his front and noticing how firm he was beneath the material of his dress shirt. She sighs as her pussy clenches at the thought of what resides beneath, “I haven't had sex in months which is far too long. I just need to be fucked right.”

“Y/n get off. This is against the rules and you shouldn't be here,” he spoke sternly, as much as he could through his voice shaking. He expected her to look hurt, maybe even offended at him rejecting her in such an embarrassing way, but he only saw a smirk.

“Mr. Dolan I need a man,” she hummed, “a man that will fuck me nice and hard. I need you Mr. Dolan. I need you to fuck me.” She popped her lip out into a pout, still running her hands up and down his chest until she hooked her arms around his neck and leaned in close to his lips. If he just leaned forward a bit they would be kissing.

He really didn't expect for this normally quiet and shy girl on top of him to be so bold. He had never seen her like this and never thought in a million years these words would be tumbling from her mouth. He gasps quickly when she reaches down to tug at his belt buckle, staring down with a hungry look on her face, eye fucking him.

This had never happened before and he wasn't really sure what to do. Normally the advances from the girls were subtle and harmless, but this was...this was dangerous in many ways. To say his morals were floating around in his head in a jumbled mess because he can feel the heat from her pussy against his dick is an understatement. He wanted it but he didn't want to want it. He grabbed onto her wrist in an attempt to stop her, watching her pout return to her face at the fact that he tried to stop her.

“I’m well aware of your intentions Y/n. But this is wrong. I will not have sex with a student. No if, ands, or buts. Now leave and I promise we won’t ever have to talk about it again. I won’t tell anyone about this.” He meant it too. He didn't want a single person knowing that his student was sitting pretty on his lap in her...sexy uniform that wouldn't be sexy on anyone else but her if he’s being honest, “But I want you to get off my lap right now.”

She sat for a moment, just staring at him to gauge his reaction before she slowly let go of his belt, looking as if she’d admitted defeat. “Okay...I’m sorry I broke the rules, sir.” But just as it had before, that same sensual grin came onto her face, sending a nice thumping from his heart through his chest once again as she said, “I’m so sorry that I've been a bad girl.”

She slid her hips forward and back again repeatedly, not stopping even when his breathing stopped short and she felt his heart beating rapidly beneath her fingertips. She grabbed into the collar of his shirt, using it for something to hold onto as she rolled her hips into his, making it unbearable for him to stay in line. He watched in awe while she untucked her shirt from the waistband of her skirt, pulling it out and slowly undoing the buttons, one by one until she revealed the soft pink of her bra and the curves of her hips. She was breathtaking and he couldn't deny that if he wanted to. She pushed her core harder against his slacks, loving the pressure it put against her clit. His eyes traveled down the expanse of her body to where their hips met, feeling like he might pass out if she doesn't stop now.

If he’s honest, he’s wanted this for quite some time. She’s just...something else. He’s caught himself staring at her longer than he should in lectures and she doesn't know it but he can see right up her skirt when she sits at her desk, his eyes drifting down far too often from his own desk. But he would never imagine himself acting on anything. The consequences that would follow if anyone ever caught him kissing her like he desired to, were scary to say the least. But he wanted to so bad. That thought had him gulping while he looked at her all spread out on his lap and grinding herself against him. Her head was resting against her shoulder, a blissed out look on her face while she rolled over his clothed dick, the skin of her thighs causing a rubbing sound that he didn't mind much.

He was suddenly happy for a split second that she locked the door, even though he knew someone would be able to see the shadow through the glass window if they looked hard enough. He also know that the administrators and janitors had a key to his door and would surely use it if they had any indication something insubordinate was going on inside. It had him all jittery the think that someone could catch them even if he hasn't touched her...yet. He hated the fact that he was tempted, he was so tempted to fuck her senseless that it almost killed him to not have his hands dipping into her sides and roll her harder against him.

His cheeks were heating up fast by the quiet moan that emits from her lips, soft and angelic. He knows that if he lets it slide they will only get louder and he doesn't want a single soul to hear. He knows that the building is deserted, but just the thought of someone hearing her sounds is terrifying and sends a panic through him, causing a hand to fly up and cover her mouth, the other to wrap around her throat lightly. It was the first time he’s touched her and he felt like his hands were on fire just by touching her skin. He was going to hell.

She stared at him over his hands, breathing out through her nose and waiting for him to explain why he’d shushed her so frantically. He looks mad. And he is. He’s fucking pissed off that he wants her so bad and that he’s so hard beneath her he’s worried he’s leaking precum. He’s mad that she’s put him in a position that has his brain so out of order that he can't think of anything else but ramming his dick into her against his desk. He’s mad that he’s never wanted to fuck someone so bad in his life and he’s mad that she has to be his student. He’s mad because he wants her, and not just right now, but always and it’s driving him crazy.

“Don’t you realize what will happen if I fuck you, Y/n? Do you fucking know?” He seethed, a hand reaching to grip at her ass deliciously, leaving a smack against the flesh and feeling it jiggle in his hands. She jumps away from his hand against her mouth from the contact, surprised that he made such a risky move when he’s been frozen like a statue the whole time.

“You’ll cum...I’ll cum...we’ll have mind blowing sex,” she answers calmly, so sure it makes him more mad because he’s certain she’s right.

“Wrong. I’ll get fired. I will be out on my ass before I can even blink,” he snapped, “I will lose everything. We will both be in a fuck ton of trouble, including you...then you’ll really be stressed won’t you kitten?” he hums, a smirk plastered onto his face as he leans in to ghost his lips over her own, testing the line before stepping over it. She’s pouting agains, wanting him to kiss her and show her what he’s really thinking because this denial is bullshit and she can tell he wants it. She can tell from his hard-on that’s pressing against her right now.

She nods, not wanting him to deny her but still understanding why he’s so scared to want it. But Ethan takes her by surprise when he places both hands under her ass and lifts her up like a feather. She clutches his biceps tightly from his sudden movements, clinging onto him just until he sets her on the edge of his desk. He had one hand buried in her hair, making a fist and pulling.

“So I’m gonna need you to keep that pretty mouth closed okay?” he growled, sinister glare set straight into her eyes. He was serious. No games here. He was holding back a smile at the giggle she let out next, overjoyed when he spread her legs wider. She’s keeping herself up on her elbows, grinning up at his handsome face, tempted to pull him down by his tie for a kiss. But he still hasn't gotten an answer.

He grips her chin angrily, making sure she’s looking right into his hazel eyes, “Am I understood?” So stern. She knew that he was trying to assert himself, make sure she knew he was in the position of power. But he had nothing to worry about when it came to her, that’s all she wants right now. To have him take control and use her in the best way.

“Yeah, daddy,” she simpered once again, a tiny pout on her face. He could feel the blood rushing to his cock in an instant. He’s never been called that before but something about the way she said it had him addicted already, “I promise I’ll keep you a secret, I promise I won’t tell,” she carried on, dragging a finger across his sharp jawline, leaning up just enough to leave a peck against the skin of his neck. When she leaned back, she was biting her bottom lip again.

He couldn't think about how wrong this was. He couldn't think about the fact that he was possibly taking advantage of her when he was adult and was the one responsible for saying no. So instead of thinking he pulled her to the edge of the desk, tugging harshly on her plaid skirt. She sat in her matching baby pink panties, so delicate for such a dirty girl. He took the time to dip his hand down, cupping her heat and rubbing slowly, torturing her like she’d tortured him for so long. He only toyed with her for a moment longer before ripping her bra off, panties off as well, he groaned from deep in his chest as the sight of her dripping core.

He wanted to take it slow, feel every curve of her body, every inch of her skin - but considering his compromising position he needed to make it fast. He couldn't waste time. He needed to fuck her hard and fast like she wanted and get it out of his system because it’s eating him alive. He didn't have the time to caress her and kiss her tenderly. He just couldn't take the time right now. The thought of someone coming to knock on the door while he had her splayed out wide and wet on his desk was something that chilled him to the bone.

He paused for just a second so that the rapid thoughts in his head could quiet down and let him focus: What if she’s underage? What if someone comes? This is so wrong. You’re gonna get fired. But how could he ever say no?

Instead of getting lost in his thoughts and overthinking the entire situation, he chose not to think at all - let his instincts take in. He quickly grasped the cold metal of his belt buckle, peeling it from his belt loops on his slacks and pushing them all the way down his legs and to the side. He watched her gazing at him dreamily, so focused on his large hands pulling his massive length out for her to see, sitting so deliciously in his palm. She licked her lips when she noticed the tip was the same reddish pink as his freshly kissed lips. He tossed his underwear into the pile of clothes on the floor beside the desk, forgotten. He leaned over her, taking another second to land his lips on hers once again, tasting her chapstick and feeling his heart warm at the way she leans back up when he tries to pull away, sighing into his mouth.

When he breaks free he’s grabbing at himself to rub the head of his cock up and down her wet opening. Ethan teased her slowly, tapping at her clit just to hear her gasp and jump beneath his touch. She clenches with a wince when he tries to push in slowly, never has she been with anyone this big and she hope he understood from the whimper that slipped out. He gave her a soft smile, rubbing his hand over her soft thigh in understanding, making sure that when he tries again he takes his time.

He has to stop halfway, throwing his head back from the way she grips him so tight, overwhelmed. Y/n grips his arms, bracing herself for him to sink all the way inside of her. He captures her lips with his own as he rammed his cock into her time and time again, relishing in the warm tight wetness of her pussy that he’s not stopped thinking about since she unknowingly opened her legs from beneath her desk months ago and he caught sight of heaven on earth. His hips met hers with a harsh smack, loud enough to be heard from outside the door, but a delicious sound to his ears anyway. Ethan was over the moon, buried deep into the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen, who happened to be none other than his student. He breathed hard when his gaze went from her bright eyes down to her chest that rose and fell rapidly, down to where he disappeared inside of her heat.

Y/n couldn't hardly breathe just looking at his body so firm above her, tie swinging with every thrust of his hips, buttons undone at the top of his shirt. She was tempted to shut her eyes simply from the pleasure and euphoria that took over her every nerve, but refrained when she saw the blissed out look on his face she’d only ever seen in her dreams.

She had envisioned this exact moment so many times within her daydreams, scribbling mindlessly while she watched him talk about nonsense in front of the class, scanning her eyes over his front the best that she could when he wasn't looking. It was maddening to want his cock so bad. She’d dreamt about being fucked against this very desk. She’d woken up in a sweaty gasping frenzy from the vivid image of what she is seeing right now. But this time it was real and she was being fucked on his desk. The grunts and groans emitting from his mouth weren't a figment of her imagination any longer. He was ramming into her shaking body so hard that the pens near her head were knocked to the floor with a clatter, binders falling, papers flicking off the wood and to the ground silently. But he paid no attention to the racket, only her loud breathing and gushing sounds coming from where he did his best to ruin her.

A spark of anger arose from deep within his chest when he looks up to find her grinning at him, a gloating sneaky little glare that reads “you love this and you know it.” It made him angry because she did this, she walked in here everyday in her short she knew was too short, she came and sought him out, made him weak, made him want her. With an angry “fuck” Ethan’s wrapping one hand around her throat - not too tight, but tight enough to make a point and grumbling low, “You knew what you were doing didn't you?”

She grabs at his wrist, hand fumbling with his fingers for a second, just feeling at them lightly with a smile, nodding her head and batting her eyelashes. She could feel her thighs shaking and tightening around his waist, her heels pushing into his thighs to push him into her harder.

“Such a fucking slut...is this what you wanted?” he continues to growl from within his throat, hard staring her with dark, lust-filled eyes.

“Y-yes,” she gasped, a strangled sound coming from her throat from the pressure of his hand around her airway, “fuck me harder daddy please. Love it so much.”

Ethan had become hot and sweaty quickly, a patch forming on the front of his shirt from where he’d soaked through, enough to have him yanking at his tie and hastily removing it from around his neck. He suddenly felt very large in a shirt that normally fits so well, but then again he was never pushing against the buttons and railing a beautiful girl into his desk, so that might be a factor to think about.

“Fuckin’ hot in here,” he grumbled to himself as he unbuttoned his blazer all the way down, feeling the cool air touch his chest for the first time and sighing at how good it felt. He still hasn't stilled his hips, his rhythm even and steady. It impressed her that he had a will to keep going to matter what and she just knew that even if someone did knock on that door - he wouldn't stop. He would finish what he started. But looking at his bare torso that showed under the unbuttoned shirt still had her breathless and swooning. She hadn't expected him to take his clothes off, too worried about how fast he needed to be for obvious reasons. But she wasn't complaining by any means.

The slither of tan skin that she could see had her whimpering and throwing her head back on the desk, nails reaching beneath the flailing fabric to rake her nails down the smooth surface - over every bump and ridge. She forced herself to open her eyes and appreciate the way his abs flexed with every thrust into her, the way his eyebrows were drawn down in concentration, the way he bit at his bottom lip and watched her closely. She hardly expected him to grip at the back of her neck to pull her up just enough to bury his face in the skin of her neck - kissing fiercely. His teeth dug in in the most delicious way, sucking on the sore spots and admiring the dark purple that was left behind from his assault. They would be nearly impossible to cover, and that made him proud. With a grin he gripped her hips tight, ramming himself into her harder still, chuckling at the bright red of her skin from his hips pounding into her own. If she wanted rough, rough was what she was going to get.

“Yessss daddy right there right there right there-” she screeched so loud he was sure the entire city would be able to hear. But he didn't have the heart to stop her. He craved to hear that desperate howl, frantic and scared he was going to stop hitting that sweet spot that drove her to madness. Well, he wouldn't dream of it.

“You like that spot kitten? Hm? Right here?” he mocked, pushing a hand down on her tummy and driving into her deep, stilling before pulling out all the way, and slamming right back in.

She whimpered pathetically, throwing her head back and trying to crawl away from how deep he was. She’s sure that if she didn't want to look tough, she would be crying right now. But she just wanted to be good for him.

When he offered two fingers for her to suck on, she greedily opened her mouth, tongue out, flicking around the digits while they settled against the flesh. Her eyes trained on his own menacing hazel ones while she sucked, letting him gag her if he pleased, adoring the way she felt so full in not one but two places. The tears brimmed in her eyes while he pushed his fingers to the back of her throat, fucking her mouth with his hand and loving the gagging sound she gave him.

“God look at you taking me so well...sucking daddy’s fingers like the good girl you are...so pretty,” he whispered, almost to himself with how low the volume of his voice was. But she heard, and it still made her feel good. The ball inside of her started to grow bigger the more he pushed into her, the harder he pounding, the more he gagged her, the more he praised and degraded her all at once. It was all too much and if he kept going she would have no choice but to let the fire consume her.

She bucked her hip up, taking notice of the sound of crumpling paper underneath her and giggling when she remembered it was probably papers he was grading from before. If only they knew. If only they could see the way their teacher fucked her raw and wild on his desk, fingers dipping into her skin, groaning low and dark into her ear, smashing his lips against hers like he really meant it. Did he really mean it? If only they could know that the crumple of the papers he was going to hand back would be from their sexual escapade happening right now. It all made her head spin in the best way.

Her screaming only rose in volume, his eyes widening and a hand rising to cover her opened mouth. He gave her a brilliant smile, but a warning still lingered in his eyes that looked down on her. “Shhh baby,” he shushed her, feeling her giggle behind his hand, her eyes shining at him innocently. But he knew so much different. He pulled his hand away only to lift her from the desk once more, shuffling her weight up his body, loving the way she fit him so perfectly. He held her in his arms, her own circling around his neck and kissing at his cheekbones lovingly.

Ethan was still buried to the hilt, so deep in her pussy, so warm. He took her ass into his hands and bounced her up and down on his muscular body, smacking her body down onto his own and sucking at her nipples while she moaned repeatedly above him.

Y/n hooks her ankles behind his waist, bucking her hips against his because she just couldn't get enough. He was addicting. She adored the way he gazed at her, sucked at her tits, treated her pussy like gold, kissed her like there was this passion he’s waited to set free for so long, adored the way he did a complete 180 from a professional that was scared to let loose, to a fuck machine that broke her apart with his dick. She moaned hungrily while she looked down at him suckling on her left breast, her bud rolling against his skilled tongue. She wondered for a moment what it would feel like on her pussy, wondered if it’s everything she imagined it would be. She had no doubts she was right.

“How do I feel baby? Is daddy doing a good job?” he growls, looking for the reassurance he honestly didn't need. He knew he was doing amazing by the shaking in her thighs in his hands. But he still wanted to hear her filthy little mouth say it.

“So good daddy, doing so good,” she emphasized every word, whimpering and moaning and gasping like a complete mess that she is. She would be okay if she finished like this, with him holding her like she doesn't weigh a pound, ramming her down onto his cock hard and fast and unbelievably easy. And she nearly complains when he starts to back up and tumble into the desk chair. It rolls slightly under the pairs weight.

He wraps her lips within a tender kiss once again, breaking free with a sharp intake. “Ride me kitten,” he grunted, continuing to kneed the flesh of her ass in his hands. He doesn't know why he’s doing it, but he knows he likes doing it. And he knows she likes him doing it by the content smile stretched across her face.

She nodded at his demand, situating herself against his lap to find leverage before she started to bounce with purpose.

She continued to sink down, wiggling her hips just to tease him when she felt the small tickle of the tuft of hair near his belly button. She was clenching, grinding, genuinely throwing it back on him in a way he’s never seen before, and he doesn't think after this he’ll be able to keep himself in check.

She moaned in his ear just by the feeling of his large hands caressing up her back and down to her ass to leave a harsh slap, surely leaving a lovely red splotch behind. He found the strength to raise his head from her tits, tightening his grip on her ass and moaning softly at how good she felt, “Such a good girl for me. Ride my fuckin dick, yeah that’s it. Make me cum, baby. Be good and make daddy proud of you. Make me cum.”

Ethan could feel his orgasm coming in strong, racing through him fast. He sat back in the chair, closing his eyes and really feeling all of her walls contract around his shaft and hug him so tight. He breathed out hard through his nose, trying to decide whether he would have the strength to hold it if he opened his eyes again.

Y/n grinned at his struggle, bouncing faster and faster, moaning louder and longer. His jaw clenched with every swear word that tumbled from her rosy lips, reminding her of just how handsome he was. When she let go around him, her juices spraying out against the tan skin of his thighs, he thought he might lose it at the sight. She was writhing and dragging her nails down his arms, scratching at his skin.

“Fuuuckkkkk oh my fucking God that’s so...oh my fucking God right there,” she screeching louder than ever before, shocked that she hasn't felt him release into her yet.

The heat that had just erupted inside of her was unlike anything she’d felt before. Certainly one of the hardest if not the best orgasms she’s ever had. He gave her a cocky grin when he smacked his hand down onto her ass one final time before lifting her away. He couldn't risk cumming in her and her not be on birth control considering he hadn't used a condom for obvious reasons.

“Get on your knees,” he ordered her hotly, voice low and stern. She dropped to the ground with wobbly knees and a racing heart, her pussy clenching around nothing in particular now that she was empty. She still felt herself dripping in arousal against the floor beneath her, knowing she will most likely have to go home and change after this and feign illness. The soreness in her limbs already tells her walking won’t be the best option for the rest of the day.

She took him gently into her hand, wrapping her plump lips around his swollen head to suckle and kiss it gently. She wanted to drive him crazy, wanted him to look at her with pleading eyes and a panic in him that she won’t let him cum. When she removes her lips, she receives that very same look, begging without actually saying a word. So licks up the underside of him, a slow, hot stroke of her tongue. Messy and filled with saliva. He watched her carefully, resting a hand within her hair as she enveloped him in her wet mouth. He thought he might pass out when she pushed him all the way inside her mouth, deepthroating him with tears forming at the corner of her eyes. She took it like she was forced, even though he had simply rested his head back and let her work at him. It was all too much. She started to pump what she didn't have in her mouth, feeling him twitch against her tongue and buck his hips up randomly, gagging her.

“Y/n I’m gonna-” he’s cut short with a long breath from his nose, clenching his jaw tight while he finished down her throat in long hot spurts. She was clenching her eyes shut and taking it like the good girl she was, swallowing every drop he gave her. It surprised her that it was sweeter than she thought, all thoughts of the liquid being bitter now gone. He continued to groan above her, sensitive and wincing from her hand that kept pumping him. She knew he was completely finished, she removed him from her mouth with a pop and an angelic smile, kissing his tip one last time.

He was frozen in his chair, frozen and shocked and fucked out and scared. Scared because he’s never cum that hard in his life ever. Shocked because he didn't want her to go. Frozen because she was rising her feet already, giggling while she gathered her clothing from the ground and got dressed in quick motions. He couldn't even find it in himself to move from how hard he’d just orgasmed.

He watched her calmly, arms dangling over the arms of the chair, limp and lifeless, dick laying against his belly. He smiled softly when she leaned down to leave a breathless kiss on his lips, then his cheek, then his jaw while she held his face gently. “Thank you daddy,” she whispered, kissing his jaw just one more time before she leaned back to send him a wink, “I promise I won’t tell.”

Ethan sat still while she pulled her panties up her legs, then her skirt, before buttoning her blouse and tucking it in to try and look the same as she did when she walked through the door. His head spun at the swivel of her hips as she tugged up the skirt, knowing if he had more time he’d fuck her again. She grabbed her bag from the floor, swung it over her shoulder and looked back at him with a grin, raising her hand to wave at him just as she opened the door and slipped out into the hallway, leaving him alone. The door closed with a click, normally it was quiet, but now that the moans and slapping of skin were absent, it sounded deafening.

He looked across his destroyed desk, papers strewn every which direction, pens on the floor, papers wet from her juices, seeing it in a totally new light than he had moments before. He scooped the pens from the ground, then the runaway papers, then his clothing that he had ripped from his body in a moment of weakness. That’s what it was right? A moment of absolute weakness that can never ever happen again.

It was just a moment that will be erased in history, never spoken about. He tried cleaning his desk up as neatly as possible, trying not to worry about the fact that he was naked, that is, until the bell rang and panic set in.

He fucked a student. He actually fucked her. He didn't just have sex with her but he fucked her. He’s naked right now, in his classroom, cleaning up the desk that he fucked her on. He’s going to have to teach after this. He’s going to have to care about teaching her classmates after this. He’s going to have to think of her pussy now when he jerks off. He’s going to have to try and forget the way she just rode him in his chair like a dirty little slut. He’s going to have to try and forget the way she’d called him daddy. He’s going to have to forget that he wants to do it again.

“Fuck.”

tags: @dolandolll @stayalivw

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ravs6709 · 3 years

Text

Our Very Own Story- Queerplatonic Fedex

Alternate title: I project so much onto Fitz that he's probably ooc

Woo, I'm finally done! I've had this idea for so many months, but I never had the chance to actually finish it, but finally, it's here (in all its 7.3k words glory)

This story takes place in the same au as Our Very Own Melody, which is the (romantic) Kam side. OVOM isn't necessary to read to read this one, but it's still my fave work, so read it anyways

But here's a refresher. Soulmates au in high school. Soulmate bond is having a strong bond similar to telepathy and empathy combined, and can only be revealed once the soulmates are close with each other.

Ve/vem Dex and she/ae Biana because yes.

And also, Fitz, Keefe, Tam and Linh are in the same grade, and are all one year older than Sophie, Biana and Dex.

Warnings: censored swearing, and mentions of (a character from a play's) death

Hope you enjoy!

•~•~•~•~•~•

Fitz remembered the days that he played the piano. He still played it in the present, but not to the extent that he had in the past. He used to constantly play it, something that he was partially forced to do.

It wasn't like he didn't enjoy it, because he did. He'd started at a young age, and as he grew older, he found himself creating parts to songs. Just a few notes, maybe long enough for a verse, he didn't have the same passion to create music like Keefe would using his violin.

If anything, he preferred to write lyrics. He liked being able to tell stories with words. It was at the end of elementary school where he'd realized that it wasn't writing music that interested, but writing in general. He had so many ideas flowing inside of him, and a powerful imagination.

When middle school came, he started to explore some of the possibilities. He tried poetry, but while it was fun, it wasn't his thing. He particularly enjoyed writing short stories for English class. He didn't spend that much time focusing on writing though, he spent most of his free time hanging out with Keefe, Biana, Sophie, and rarely, Dex.

It was in eighth grade when Biana practically forced him to watch the school play with her and Sophie. (Keefe, for some reason, had been allowed to decline the invitation. That alone made Biana's intentions suspicious).

From start to finish, he was amazed by what he saw. The play was one that he'd heard of, but didn't know the plot to. Each movement of the actor was a sentence in his head, he could see the words written down on paper, ready to be acted out. He knew that script writing wasn't as simple as that, the formatting was different, but still he was curious.

After the play was over, the three of them started walking to take Sophie home. "So, did you like it?" Biana asked.

"It was good," Fitz replied. "The lighting was really great."

That was another thing that made script writing different compared to writing a short story. When writing something to be acted out, you had to be able to imagine the scene, know what kind of lighting would be needed and what special effects were needed in order to emphasize something, or in order to make something happen.

"It was great!" Sophie agreed. "Dex did a really good job behind the scenes!"

"Wait, Dex was involved with the play?" Fitz asked.

He'd met Dex back in elementary school, but they never actually spoke to each other until a few months ago, when Sophie befriended them. But even now, even though they'd hang out at his house, he hadn't really interacted with Dex that often. (It did explain why Dex wasn't with them either).

"You didn't know?" Biana asked. "I mean, ve hasn't talked about it much, but surely you should've known. Vis knowledge of technology is really good."

Fitz hadn't actually witnessed it for himself, but had heard about it. But the stories couldn't do it justice.

•~•~•~•~•~•

After Sophie had gone home, the two siblings started to walk to their home.

"So, what about playwriting?" Biana asked.

"I know you brought me to see it for a reason," he told her.

She crossed her arms. "Do I have to have a reason?"

"Knowing you, yeah."

Ae huffed. "Rude. What would I even have to gain from introducing you to a form of writing that you might enjoy?"

"Oh, I don't know, like asking for a favour such as doing half of a project?" He was still a little bit bitter for having to do that.

"That was one time!"

"One time too many!"

•~•~•~•~•~•

Fitz was glad that his high school had a talented drama club. Every year, his school participated in the city-wide festival. The thought alone was exciting, and he knew that unlike in middle school, it was the students who wrote the plays. He wanted to be part of it.

It also sounded a little stressful, because it was no longer just a school play, but a piece of art meant to represent the school. Actual professionals would be there to judge the play. And this was going to be his first time doing this. He knew though, that it was going to be fine. He wasn't alone, there was going to be a whole playwriting team to create the play.

Unfortunately, luck decided not to favour him. While there were multiple teachers in the drama department, it was the head who would deal with everything. Except the head of the drama department had gone on maternity leave, meaning that the school wasn't going to participate in the festival for that year. While it would be rude to be annoyed at the teacher, he was still a little upset, because he'd been looking forward to it.

The year itself wasn't bad, he enjoyed it a lot. He'd managed to get most of his classes with Keefe, the only differing one being their art course, where Keefe went with music, and he chose drama. His classes were entertaining. Sophie and Biana had started dating, and the hangouts at his house only grew more frequent.

There were also the Song twins. He wasn't necessarily friends with Linh, but they shared a few classes, and she was fun to be around. Sometimes they ate lunches together when Keefe wasn't around. Tam, on the other hand, he knew nearly nothing about, other than the fact that he usually kept to himself. Or at least, until Keefe had managed to start a rivalry with him, and then they started serenading each other with their violins. Their rivalry was a big source of entertainment, and he and Linh would often discuss the fact that they clearly liked each other.

All of those things definitely made his first year of high school a good one.

•~•~•~•~•~•

Even without the fact that the head of the drama teacher had returned from maternity leave, his second year of high school was eventful. Biana, Sophie and Dex had joined them, meaning that he got to see them more often.

He walked into the drama club room to get his form to join the drama club. He was surprised to see that Dex was also in the room.

"Hey Dex," he greeted. "Didn't expect to see you here."

"I normally do backstage stuff, did you forget, Wonderboy?" ve asked.

"Oh yeah, that's right."

He was reminded of when Sophie had told him that Dex was part of the backstage crew during middle school. He made a mental reminder to not forget, because while he hadn't intentionally been rude, he had been rude to vem in the past. He wanted to be a better friend than that.

"But actually," ve continued. "I wasn't actually going to be a part of backstage this year, I was thinking of being an actor."

"You like acting?"

Fitz was pretty sure that Dex had never mentioned being an actual actor before, but if he had to be honest, he wouldn't have been surprised if ve had. He'd already forgotten about vis involvement with the drama club.

But to his surprise, Dex flushed red, one of vis hands moving to scratch the back of vis neck. "It's not something I've brought up. I kinda have stage fright, so I'm trying to face that fear and do something that I want. Even if I get a minor role, I'll be happy."

"You should go for it!" Fitz told vem. "I'm sure you'll do good on the stage!"

Ve smiled sheepishly. "Thank you."

•~•~•~•~•~•

Along with him, there were four other people who signed up to be a playwright. He'd only recognized one of them, since they'd been in the same class the previous year, but he wasn't friends with any of them. They were nice people though, they were quite calm, compared to his friends. (Keefe, Biana and Sophie made a dangerous combination).

Playwriting was interesting, because it was different compared to what he was used to. He was aware that it wouldn't be the same, but he wasn't expecting how different they would feel. There was little focus on description, and there was no flowery prose at all. The descriptions that were there were short and simple, just enough for the actor and backstage crew to know what was going on.

It was a little hard getting used to the formatting, because he had to remember to capitalize the names, and there were a lot of small details that he needed to remember. But it was okay, because he had the other writers with him.

•~•~•~•~•~•

"So," Dex said. "How's the play going?"

"We're mostly done with the script, but we've been told the script is too short, so we're just adding on to it." This was one of the few times that ve had been the one to approach him, and he had a feeling that he'd be interacting with vem more often. "We've decided on a subversion of the classic high school story, you know what I'm talking about, right?"

Ve scrunched vis nose. "New girl goes to high school, befriends two popular guys- but sometimes one of them is a childhood friend- and gets into a love triangle with said guys? Plus, there's probably a mean girl? How could I not know? What changes have you made?"

"The mean one isn't actually that mean, and fae gets together with the main character."

"Ooh, do the two popular guys get together?" ve asked.

"One of them is enby, but yeah. The writers have been having so much fun making everything queer."

"Holy sh*t, that does sound like fun! Last year me would have killed to see something like that, when I was questioning myself."

Fitz had been starting to come to terms with the fact that he was aromantic, but he could definitely see where ve was coming from. Even if there weren't any confirmed characters on the aspec spectrum, he was always happy to have characters who were queer.

•~•~•~•~•~•

"Crapcrapcrap," Dex muttered under vis breath, pacing back and forth as ve waited for Fitz to get his lunch out of his locker.

Fitz took out his lunch, then closed the locker. He turned towards vem. "Try to breathe," he suggested. "If you get too panicked now, that's when the mistakes are going to happen. Do you want to take a minute to sit down and breathe?"

Ve glanced back and forth between him and the staircase they'd need to climb to head to the club room. Reluctantly, they sat down.

"It's not like they won't start without you there, right?" Ve asked.

"It's not like you'll be late. What do you normally do to calm yourself? Do you want me to hold your hand? I know Keefe likes that."

For a moment, he wondered if he was overstepping some kind of boundary- because they still weren't that close- but ve smiled sheepishly, and looked down at the floor. "Maybe… that would be nice. We can try that."

Ve gently held his hand, and Fitz noticed that his hand was warm, compared to his own cold one. They sat like that for a few moments, until vis shaky hand became more stable.

"Okay," ve said, but it came out as a breathy whisper. "I think we should get going."

Ve let go of his hand, the warmth slowly fading away. He liked the feeling of holding vis hand.

They went to the club room, where the auditions were being held. Dozens of students were trying out for the various roles, and he felt a little proud, knowing that people wanted to act for a play that he helped to write.

He watched the students try out, and they were all so impressive. He was glad that he wasn't actually part of the group that decided who was casted and who wasn't. He may have been a writer, but the writers weren't in charge of the auditions.

Soon it was Dex's turn- ve was auditioning for one of the teachers in the story. The teacher that ve was auditioning for was someone lenient, a good friend to the other students. The teacher would often jokingly tease the students in the class.

Seeing Dex on the stage, it was almost as ve had become a new person. He knew that obviously, being able to act in a variety of roles was what an actor was supposed to do, but it was like seeing a side to vem that he'd never seen before.

Everything, from the tone of vis voice, to the grin on vis face, to the very slight change in posture was better than he could have ever imagined.

Fitz was sure that if ve had gone for a lead role, ve would be able to steal the show.

•~•~•~•~•~•

"Dex, that was amazing!" He told vem, after ve had finished the audition.

"You… you think so?" Ve murmured, looking a little flustered. (Wait, flustered?)

"Yeah! You were great up there!" He replied, choosing to ignore what vem being flustered could mean.

"It- it was only the audition."

"You'll be getting more practice, it's like…" he paused, trying to find the words. "A preview. If the preview is good, the full thing will also be great."

"If you say so."

"I know you'll do great."

•~•~•~•~•~•

Dex had managed to be casted in the role, and both Fitz and Dex were happy. Dex had to practice vis lines, so Fitz offered to be there to listen. At first, ve seemed hesitant, out of the fear of looking bad, but eventually they accepted the offer.

At first, it was a little awkward. Dex seemed to have difficulties making eye contact with him, and when ve did, ve would seem to lose concentration on what ve was saying. It wasn't just a lesser version of stage fright, because it started to extend to their normal conversations too.

(He was starting to have suspicions, but he hoped it wasn't the case. He didn't want to have to think about that.)

But slowly, ve became more comfortable talking to him. The confidence that had been evident during the audition started to return. Once again, Fitz was in awe.

•~•~•~•~•~•

"These plays are so good," Dex murmured.

Fitz nodded in agreement. At the festival, various schools presented their plays. Each of them were different- one was fantasy, with kingdoms and people trying to survive, another depicted a local issue, and another about what it means to be a family. They were all about different topics, but each of them were spectacular.

"What if ours isn't as good?" Ve whispered.

"We've worked hard on it," he answered. "We'll make sure it's good."

He offered his hand to vem, something that he started doing often after the first time. Ve took it, and they sat on the seats holding hands until it was time for their school to set up everything.

"I have faith in you, okay?" Fitz whispered as ve stood up.

"Thank you." Ve smiled, then left with the other actors.

Fitz looked back towards the stage so he could enjoy the show. Since he wasn't an actor, he didn't have to get up. The play began, and even though he'd seen it multiple times, it still looked impressive. The jokes didn't fail to make him smile.

After it was all over, ve sat back down next to him.

"You did great up there," he told vem.

Ve smiled at him, vis face shining with joy. (Part of him wanted to just smile back, the other part wanted to back away, because of all of these feelings. Instead, he shoved the conflicting feelings away, he could think about them another day.)

•~•~•~•~•~•

It turned out that he didn't get the chance to think about his feelings another day. The two of them lived nearby, so after they were brought back to the school, they decided to walk together.

"Hey Fitz, can I tell you something?" Ve asked.

"Sure, go ahead."

Ve stopped walking, then turned to face him. "I have a crush on you. I've had one since last year."

Despite the fact that he suspected this, he was still shocked. "What?"

"I don't expect you to return my feelings, but I thought… after the play, I finally have the confidence to tell you."

"Since…" he murmured. "Since how long?"

"Since last year," ve replied. "In the beginning, I honestly hated you. I thought you were a spoiled jerk, but I learned that you aren't that, and then my crush happened."

"Oh," he breathed, feeling a little overwhelmed. "I'm sorry, I don't feel the same way."

"It's okay, I just wanted to get it out," ve said, but he could see vis disappointment. "Oh, my house is that way, bye. Good night."

Fitz watched as ve walked down a different path, and he knew that they didn't have to part ways until another few minutes. He felt something like dread build up within him, and he couldn't help but think that he messed up.

•~•~•~•~•~•

After the confession, Dex started to keep vis distance, and Fitz hated it. He liked hanging out with vem, it was nice and comforting. It was like how they were in the beginning of the year, before they finally interacted with each other.

Whenever they had their group hangouts, Sophie, Keefe, Biana and Linh would sit in between them. The distance between them wasn't that huge, but he felt like it was just going to grow more.

It also didn't help that he didn't know how he was feeling. He thought that he had it figured out, he didn't have any romantic feelings towards vem. But every once in a while, he caught himself staring. Dex had seen him do it more than one time, and ve would be the first to look away, looking a little upset.

It would hurt, wouldn't it. I rejected you, and now I'm staring at you. I wish I had an answer for you.

However, he didn't, so he kept quiet and continued to stare longingly.

•~•~•~•~•~•

"Okay, what's going on?" Biana asked, slamming his bedroom door open before slamming it shut again.

"What are you talking about?" He asked, hoping that ae wasn't referring to what he thought ae was about to say. "And careful with the door," he added, hoping to get aer off topic.

"Hah, nice try with that, but I'm referring to you and Dex," She replied.

He flinched. Damn it, she's too perceptive. And now she'll definitely know! Well, guess I've got no choice but to tell her.

"We haven't been dating," he explained. "I'm just… ve confessed to me and I'm so confused. I thought… I thought I was aromantic, but all of a sudden I just can't help but look at vem." He sighed, then ran a hand through his hair. "Ve's avoiding me because I rejected vem, except I don't know what my feelings for vem are anymore."

Ae sat down on the bed next to him. "Okay, first off, if you're aromantic, that's great. If you're not, then that's fine too. I can't tell you what you feel, but I can sympathize. Do you remember at the end of elementary and during the beginning of middle school, I kept clinging onto Keefe?"

He nodded.

"Well, I thought I had a crush on him."

"Wait, really?" That was something he didn't know.

"I know better now, I was just admiring someone who I thought was cool and was also pretty. That sounds like a crush to you, doesn't it?"

He nodded slowly.

"Well, it wasn't," she stated. "There's more to a crush than just thinking someone is pretty, otherwise, I'd be crushing on half the school. There's this… feeling inside of you, you feel warm and fuzzy. You find yourself wanting to be with them often, you want to go outside and explore the world with them. You might want to be closer with them than anyone else. That's how I've felt."

He considered that, then tried to compare it to what he'd been feeling.

"It's… similar, I think," he explained. "I like being with vem, and I regret choosing to ignore vem at first. I wish that we could've grown closer before." He closed his eyes, and pictured vem, sitting next to him, their hands linked.

He felt warmth, before it faded into confusion. Biana's explanation seemed right, but he felt like there was something that he was missing.

•~•~•~•~•~•

Since it was summer vacation, it meant that Fitz didn't have to go to school every day and see Dex. While they had hangouts often, Dex often had to babysit vis younger siblings, so he didn't see vem too often.

It was probably a good thing, it meant that he could try and figure out his feelings, without the source of said feelings being around to make everything complicated. (Though, it wasn't really working). At least though, he could figure out how to make things less awkward, because the others were starting to notice something was going on, and he didn't want to be the reason that the atmosphere wasn't pleasant.

He spent a lot of his free time playing the piano. He'd been doing less of it lately, but once he'd started playing not as an obligation, but because he wanted to, he found that playing it was a good stress reliever. He could immerse himself in the light sounds of the piano, distract himself from all the confusion he felt.

Sometimes though, when he played the piano, he thought of the songs that he often heard- whether from school or just Biana- and murmured the lyrics. He tried playing the songs that he knew were about romance, because maybe he could figure out how he felt about the experiences that other people had.

He was still conflicted though. Some songs it seemed like the person was oddly possessive over the one that they loved, the feeling of love so strong and intense and suffocating. Whatever he felt towards Dex was strong, but not like that. Other songs were a lot more casual, talking about how the warmth that came from being with the one you loved.

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. He really hoped he could find an answer, and soon.

•~•~•~•~•~•

While he had no answer, interactions with Dex did become easier. He wasn't sure if it was because he was getting used to what he was feeling, was coming closer to figuring it out, or he was just getting better at suppressing his feelings.

The next year of school had started, and it meant a new play for the drama club. Both him and Dex joined the club, just like the previous year.

Most of the other playwrights were people he was familiar with from the previous year, but there was a new face. This year, they agreed on something less realistic- superheroes. It was interesting to see how the story evolved, from a joke about the main character "Grey" being morally grey, to adding two antagonists with strong superpowers, which then ended up focusing less on the main character, but more between the relationship between two siblings. It was absolutely incredible to see what they were able to come up with.

Coming up with a plot was only the beginning though, but this time, he had more experience writing, so he was able to contribute even more to the story.

Writing the dialogue could be difficult sometimes, as some of the lines felt too dramatic, or not emotional enough. He tried saying them out loud, but he wasn't that good at voice acting, so he sounded too robotic for his liking.

"It sounds like you're writing something for the play," Dex said during one lunch. "Do you want me to say it out loud for you?"

Fitz was surprised by the offer. Whole they were talking more, it was usually in a group. So for Dex to be coming to him, it meant that their friendship could be better.

"That would be nice, thank you. I'm trying to write a monologue about the mayor, addressing the people about how his sister betrayed him and has been working for the rebels. But right before that, it's his reaction to the betrayal."

"Is he angry, or more sad?"

"Bit of both, and then when he makes his speech to the audience he reveals an invention that'd be used to stop the rebels, so while he's calm, he should also sound vaguely menacing."

"Is the mayor the villain?"

"It's complicated. The mayor's sibling has superpowers, while he doesn't. He fears that the powers are going to cause him to lose his status, so he creates laws that impact people with powers. Those people then rebel so they can have proper rights, sometimes violently, which to the mayor, proves that people with powers are a threat. The mayor also has been looking into an invention that can get rid of powers, because he wants to "cure" his sibling."

"He does awful things for the sake of love," Dex guessed.

"Exactly. Oh, here"--he turned his phone screen so ve could see the screen--"the script is here for you to read."

Ve started off murmuring, trying to get a feel for the scene. As ve re-read the scene over and over again, ve spoke louder, emotion seeping into vis tone.

"Thank you Dex," he said, after it was over. "That helped a lot.

"No problem. It was fun."

The bell rang, signaling the end of the lunch period.

"I've got to head to class now, see you later!" Without thinking, Fitz leaned towards vem, before he realized what he was doing.

Was I about to kiss vem on the cheek?

He couldn't tell if it was just instinct- he always kissed his mom on the cheek if either of them had to go somewhere- or if he genuinely wanted to show affection like that.

He abruptly turned away and quickly left, not daring to look back and see if ve had noticed or not.

•~•~•~•~•~•

It turned out that Dex hadn't noticed the almost-cheek-kiss, and Fitz was relieved. But it did get him thinking. If he and Dex were to date, would he be comfortable with kissing vem on the lips? He knew that for the most part, kissing was common in romantic relationships. After a few moments of thinking, he decided that he didn't want that.

It wasn't like a switch had been flipped (he knew that kissing wasn't required in romantic relationships), he did finally begin to have his answer.

His hangouts with Dex slowly began to go back to normal, as they fell back into the dynamic from before the confession. Except this time, there was less blushing and being embarrassed, because this time, there wasn't a crush to hide.

Sometimes Dex acted out the scenes he helped write. They didn't do that too often though, since Dex was going to audition, and ve didn't want to have any sort of advantage.

It felt nice to be with Dex, it was comforting and fun. When he tried imagining Dex dating someone, he found that he didn't mind that too much, as long as they'd be able to hang out together (he was annoyed by the fact that he hadn't tried to imagine that earlier).

•~•~•~•~•~•

"Hey, Dex," Fitz called out. "About the confession…" Despite having his answer, he was a little nervous, because neither of them had actually ever discussed the confession or the aftermath.

Dex blinked, then pursed vis lips. "What about it?"

"I know I did already reject you, but well, you know about the stuff after… I was confused. Because I like being with you, and I'll admit, you look beautiful, but I'd been unable to actually figure out if it was romantic attraction or not. It wasn't, so here's my official rejection. Hope it doesn't change anything between us again."

There was a pause, then ve snorted. "You do know that you already rejected me, right? I mean, I get what you're saying, but I've been working to get over you. Hasn't quite worked yet, but I'm not devastated or anything."

"That's good, I feel better about this."

"Your explanation also makes sense, I mean, it took me forever to realize that I don't like girls. Attraction is confusing."

Fitz laughed. "You can say that again. I'm aromantic, but I think part of the confusion is that I like the idea of romance."

"So when you have someone confess to you," ve continued. "You're wondering if you should have accepted the confession."

He nodded. "Exactly."

"And we'll continue to stay as friends, right?"

"Yeah, that sounds like a good plan."

He could always figure out more of the details later.

•~•~•~•~•~•

With everything settled, Fitz and Dex grew closer. Auditions for the play drew near, and the actors were instructed to think about who they were going to be playing.

"I kinda want to play the mayor?" Dex said. "I mean, I've seen very small bits of the dialogue from other characters, but I did have fun doing that monologue the first time."

"You should do it then," Fitz told vem.

"Yeah but… it's a more major role, and I'm scared of messing it up. I haven't really had much experience in the main cast, let alone as an antagonist."

"I'm sure you could do it," Fitz said, putting his hands on vis shoulders. "Your acting helped me, and I'm proud of how far you've come. Worst case scenario, you don't get the role, but you know how nice our teacher is."

"She is nice," ve agreed.

"So you know she won't be harsh."

"I guess, yeah."

•~•~•~•~•~•

The scene that had been used for the audition wasn't one that Dex had read, which made Fitz feel a little bit better, because the last thing that he wanted was for vem to make it because of an unfair advantage. He knew that ve'd feel guilty about it.

The scene was when the mayor's sister left to secretly join one of the rebel meetings, and then he talked to himself about how much he hated the rebels and how he was going to make sure that his citizens would be protected from those who had superpowers.

The edge in Dex's tone was similar to how Fitz had imagined the mayor to sound like- sweet, but it was clear that the mayor was menacing. The reasoning was somewhat noble, to protect the citizens, but what wasn't considered was that people with superpowers were human too. The mayor was the one who ended up causing damage, while trying to stop the damage from happening.

He thought about the ending, and wondered how it would look like for Dex (or another actor) to perform during the end, when everything that the mayor had done led to the deaths of his sister and his friend (well technically, the friend actually lived, but at the time, he didn't know that). The mayor would go through a revelation that everything he was doing was wrong, and he needed to fix everything.

The actors who were auditioning all seemed capable of performing the role well, and Fitz wondered who would make it.

•~•~•~•~•~•

Dex managed to get the role of the mayor, and just like the previous year, Dex often practiced in front of him. Without the fear of crushes, it meant that ve was significantly more comfortable, and ve was able to do a better job.

There were points when ve got nervous, but Fitz was there to help encourage them. And despite the fact that he'd done this before, he watched vem practice in awe, because he still couldn't believe that he was able to watch this, watch someone put so much passion into acting out something he helped to write.

It felt like all of these emotions were contagious, because sometimes, it almost felt like he could feel Dex's own emotions. When ve did the monologue about being betrayed, he could feel that heartbreak and anger.

Or if Fitz was in a good mood, it spread to Dex, vis voice would sound just a little bit lighter, and during their group hangouts, ve'd talk a little bit more than usual.

The opposite applied too- sometimes Dex came to school, angry at vis siblings. While Fitz wouldn't feel irritated, necessarily, but he did find himself needing a little more quiet.

Fitz wondered if that was just them being in tune with each other, or if it was the work of something more. (In his first year, he'd joined the strings ensemble to play the piano part, and had witnessed Keefe and Tam's rivalry, but nobody could deny that when it was time to be serious, they played really well. While neither of them had found their soulmate, he wouldn't be surprised if they were.)

No matter what it was though, he knew that he was glad that he made the decision to befriend Dex.

•~•~•~•~•~•

During some of their free time, Fitz and Dex would hang out in his room and watch tv. Ever since all of this, he found himself focusing more on the writing when it came to the shows.

Sometimes what they watched was simple, others weren't. Some were cartoons, and some were play adaptations to some of the shows he'd watched before.

"Do you ever think about what you'll be doing in the future?" Fitz asked.

Dex nodded. "Yeah. It's hard to imagine it, though. Is there anything you want to do in the future?"

Fitz laid down against the bed they were sitting on. "I don't know, really. I mean, I think writing would be fun. If I got to write a play adaptation to a TV show I liked, I'd be really happy with that."

Ve hummed, laying down next to him. "You can try going for it. I think you'd do well. I know you didn't write the entirety of the plays, but they were fun to act out."

"Maybe. I guess we'll see. What about you?"

"I think voice acting would be fun. I could do stuff for animation, it seems less stressful than doing something live action. Then again, I don't really know yet."

"I think you'd do a good job," he said, before he linked their fingers together.

•~•~•~•~•~•

"I feel so weird," Dex said.

"Can you describe it?"

"I feel anxious, we're presenting the play in just a few hours, but part of me doesn't feel that scared, and that just makes me more worried."

"The dress rehearsal and the one we presented at school were great," he assured. "Don't you remember the applause?"

"That's different. I know we've done this before, but like, we only won one award last year when there were a crap ton of them. I don't want to be the reason why we don't advance in the competition this year either."

"We'll do our best, okay? You can do that much, right?" He asked, gently grabbing one of vis hands.

Ve nodded, determination flashing in vis eyes. "Okay, we'll do our best."

•~•~•~•~•~•

Their play began, and it was going incredibly well- it felt like everyone was performing even better than usual. While he really liked the comedic play from the previous year, the lighting, special effects, and the emotional speeches made the play feel better in terms of quality.

It neared the end- when the mayor was about to learn that his friend was alive. But as Dex spoke, Fitz noticed that something was off. Ve performed fine, but one of vis lines was slightly wrong. Ve must have noticed, because as ve crouched down, ve froze, vis eyes darting side to side. Ve picked up the hand of the "dead body", vis breaths visible.

From far away, it could have been interpreted as disbelief, that maybe the character was noticing something. But Fitz knew that wasn't the case, and even he began to feel nervous.

Ve had started to panic a lot less with all the practice, but that didn't mean that vis stage fright didn't disappear.

Dex, I know you can do it. I believe in you. Just get through this ending, and it'll be over. You can do it.

That nervous feeling that he'd felt disappeared in an instant. For a few moments, he felt nothing. Then there was shock, so overwhelming that for a moment, he couldn't breathe.

Dex spoke, vis lines delivered without any stutter, and there was so much happiness in vis tone, more than Fitz had heard in a while. There was that breathless sort of relief, which mainly came from receiving good news after a long time. There was no way that it could be faked so easily. Especially not when ve had been panicking just moments ago.

Fitz smiled at vem, those same emotions that Dex was feeling could be felt by him too. He had no idea what was going on, but whatever it was, Fitz was glad that it had happened.

When ve walked off stage after the last few scenes were over, he heard a voice in his mind.

Wonderboy, did you know that we're soulmates?

It was Dex's voice, but ve was nowhere near hi-

He caught on to that last word. Soulmates. Soulmates. That word repeated in his brain.

Yeah, soulmates. It shocked me, but not so much the soulmates part but more the "your voice is in my brain" part. How do you feel about all of this?

Despite being a writer, he had no words to explain how he felt. He was elated, happy, but none of those words felt like it did justice.

Okay, I think I can tell. Just know that I'm happy you're my soulmate too. Also, you might wanna get up on stage to bow, we can talk later.

Fitz stood up quickly, not realizing that the others were getting up. Yeah, we'll do that.

The festival itself wasn't that long, and their school was one of the later schools to present, but still, it felt like such a long time away. He had to actively concentrate on the other plays, otherwise he was going to get lost in thought, or end up spending the entire time mentally communicating with Dex.

Finally though, it ended, and once they were dropped back at school, they started their walk home together.

"Are you shocked that we're soulmates?" Dex asked.

"Not really. You and I have gotten really close over these two years, I don't think I can imagine my soulmate being anyone else," he replied. "Though I do still think that part of me is processing."

Ve snorted. "That reveal literally snapped me out of my spiraling. If you think you had no time to process it, imagine being on stage and there's just a voice. I'm lucky I didn't jump in shock, and managed to get through the rest of that."

"Oh, yeah, that would be something that would scare me. But I think we should talk about what comes next."

"We already decided that we aren't gonna date," Dex told him.

He nodded. "And I've thought about this for a while, but I do want to stay close with you. With the knowledge that you're my soulmate, that makes me want it more. I don't know what exactly either of our stories will be like in the future, but I want you to be one of the main characters in my story."

Dex looked down, vis face flushing red. "You- you're such a dork, you know that? How do you say something so cheesy? But… I can agree too."

Fitz felt his own face heating up a little bit, and was glad that his skin was dark enough for it to not show. It did sound a little cheesy.

"At least we have that much settled. Our stories are still in progress, so we can always wait before adding more plot points."

Ve laughed. "You make it sound so dramatic."

"I'm a writer!"

•~•~•~•~•~•

"So you look happy," Biana remarked as he entered the living room that same night. "I think you somehow look happier than you did last year."

He could still feel the smile on his face. "Dex is my soulmate."

"Wait, really? That's so cool! What happened?"

Fitz recounted the events, then began to describe how it felt. He was sort of able to feel those emotions before he realized, but once the bond was truly established, he was conscious of Dex's emotions, and the other way around. Every once in a while, he could hear Dex's voice in his mind.

"That's amazing!" Ae squealed. "Do you think that either Sophie or Linh could end up as my soulmate? That would be so cool! Even if neither of them aren't, I could see if my soulmate would join the polycule. Even if they don't, I'd be fine with that."

"Both of them could be your soulmates," he said.

"They could," she agreed. "But you know that multiple soulmates are super rare. I'd be so happy if they were both my soulmates though."

"I guess you'd just have to wait and see," he said. "Just like I did."

•~•~•~•~•~•

"I hope our school advances this time!" Dex whispered to him, as they sat down to watch the award ceremony for the plays.

It turned out that the play didn't manage to make it past the district showcase, but it wasn't too saddening. They could definitely understand why some of the other schools had managed to make it.

But just because they didn't make it past the round didn't mean that there weren't awards to be given. The director of their play won an award- and Fitz agreed with that decision. They had done a really good job with everything, including the choreographing of the superpowers.

The other award that their school received was one that Fitz was not surprised about. The award was for an actor and their talents, and he was proud as Dex walked onto the stage to receive the certificate.

I can't believe this is happening! Dex said.

I can, he replied. You did such a good job.

For the rest of that evening, neither of them stopped smiling.

•~•~•~•~•~•

"Hey Dex, can you come act out this part?" Fitz called out.

When there was no reply, he called out for vem mentally. Dex, can you act out a part I'm writing please?

The door to the other bedroom opened, and ve walked into his room. "Sorry, was listening to music."

"That's fine."

"Which part do you want me to act out?"

He turned the laptop screen around so ve could read.

"Broken Harmony, right?" Ve asked.

He nodded. Then he watched as vis posture changed, vis face wearing a cocky grin that resembled Keefe's. When he'd first seen the look, he'd thought that it looked odd on vem, but over the years, he learned more and more about vem. Plus, ve had become a voice actor, and had taken on various roles.

Ve recited the dialogue, and from there, Fitz was able to continue the conversation.

"Thank you," he said out of habit, even though at this point, it was something ve would do everything ve was asked.

Ve smiled. "I'll be back in my room if you need me, okay?"

He nodded. "Okay. Love you."

"Love you too."

•~•~•~•~•~•

I don't leave many notes in the end but that scene where Fitz almost kisses vem on the cheek instinctively is actually something that's happened to me when I was questioning whether I was crushing on my friend or not (it was so embarrassing when I realized. I was in front of multiple people too, so I'm relieved that nobody noticed). Idk why I've decided to share this now, but as I said, I projected a lot onto Fitz this time

Kotlc taglist: @keefeinnit @impostertamsong @my-swan-song @subrosasteath

Want to be added/removed from the kotlc masterlist? Just let me know!

#fitz vacker #dex dizznee #biana vacker #queerplatonic fedex #fedex #kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #kotlc fanfiction #ravi writes a thing

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blushing-starker · 4 years

Text

Having a boyfriend that's a natural rule breaker becomes even more tedious because now it's two people conspiring together, itching to shatter social norms. Sure, they won't pull the fire alarm stunt to get out of a quiz (that's more Rocket and Groot's style), place mirrors on front steps to confuse Fury and nearly give the principal a heart attack (Loki with an exasperated Thor and cackling Hela) or hire a mariachi band to follow hall monitor Alexander Pierce (Steve had joined Bucky and Sam in that one); they'd never sneak into the air vents, fill them with glitter so the haughty board of directors would be covered in pink sparkles when they cranked the ac (Clint and Nat).

Ok, they did help with that last one, buying the shimmering stuff from T'Challa's sister and slipping five jars into Clint's backpack, but they didn't actually go into the vents.

But that's not the point. The point is there are limits to their rule breaking; Tony's spot on the football team and Peter's participation in the art club too important to risk on something as silly as skipping a quiz. No, they thanked their best friends, unhooked the window lock and slithered out only after finishing and handing in the quiz. They weren't amateurs.

Still, Peter knows Tony literally couldn't have chosen a worse time for their impromptu lunch date. (Luckily, he'd expected this exact situation.)

"Tony, they don't even have bad food today. We could just wait until the bell rang to meet up and eat at the bleachers. Like we always do a day before a big game."

His boyfriend swivels around, hooks nimble fingers into his belt loops to pull Peter closer, never once stumbling even while walking backwards. The grin he shows is manic, just this side of wild to let Peter know this isn't about haunting nightmares and bouts of anxiety. This is normal, too high on a feeling Tony Stark. Which means he won't head back to school unless Peter pulls out all the stops...

He's too exhausted from last night's art project to use up energy on the puppy eyes. So he sighs, tugs on the blue varsity jacket Tony loves to show off, kisses a dimple before turning this untamed creature around.

"Come on, I found a new route to that shawarma place with MJ and Ned last week." It sounds exasperated, but Tony knows Peter will do anything to keep him happy. Well. Not anything. There's only so many times they can discuss Star Wars before simply agreeing to disagree on whether Han and Luke are pan or bi.

"What, and you tell me this now?", Tony squawks indignantly from Peter's left side, freezing nose nuzzling into Peter's neck as revenge.

Like a robber caught sneaking into a vault, he raises his hands instantly before shoving Tony away.

"Hey, you were focusing on practice! If I told you, you'd bring Rhodey, he'd bring T'Challa and then Shuri would pop up and who goes where she goes? Bucky, which means Steve and Sam, who'd already be there thanks to Rhodey and of course Clint would somehow appear with Nat. We'd be together so Ned and MJ are gonna be teasing with Betty and half the guys in our grade have a crush on Nat, or MJ or Shuri or Betty or you. So what's the end result? The entire football, soccer, basketball and swim team eating shawarma a week before the games. I am not hearing Coach Coulson scold me for you guys breaking diet again. I'm already on his list, another situation like that and I'll have to run fifteen laps around the field."

"Oh come on, you can do those in your sleep." He could, but again, not the point.

"With a weighted backpack, Tony."

"Yeah, I can see why you wouldn't want that."

"Before cycling fifteen laps and then swimming fifteen laps."

"Jesus, why would he even do that?" Tony looks at him then, disgruntled at the thought of his boyfriend doing all that.

He shrugs, doesn't want to explain Peter had done it once when it all got too much and he'd needed to release the pent up energy. He hadn't noticed Coach watching him, ready to come help if he hurt himself. They'd talk afterwards, Coulson making him promise to never do that alone. Now it became a reward and a punishment. Peter won the art contest? Fifteen everything to focus his mind and not go jumping off walls in his excitement.

His students wolfing down a thousand calories before a game? Fifteen everything so Peter would at least "time it so it's not during the season, Jesus". To be fair to Peter, Tony participated in almost all the sports teams so scheduling was hard.

"Listen, just don't eat a whole animal, ok? We can split it, eat enough," he glares at Tony, pushing through even as the puppy eyes come out, "and then head to the movies. They're showing Aliens for a few days cuz of Halloween and I already texted the guys to come during lunch."

His boyfriend, smart and sharp and witty, just blinks at him. "But we have class after lunch."

"Technically, but I convinced Mr Pym to let the class out of lab so we could all hang out. It's the one class we share so now the whole group can see it together."

Tony stops, eyes wide and mouth open.

"You, what, planned this?"

"Yeah, something fun before tomorrow to take it off your mind for a while. Or, you know, not make it stand out as much. I know how focused you get, and it's really great, having that as a goal, strategizing and taking it seriously. But I also know it can be a lot, so I thought we should all hang out since each of us has something coming up and we aren't spending much time together. Which I get, responsibilities and family and school; I just missed it and I can't be the only one, right? So yeah, this was planned. Like, two weeks ago. When MJ found the new route, it was like a sign. And I really want you to relax and enjoy the whole, I have friends that care for me and a boyfriend that loves-"

He slaps a hand on his mouth, eyes impossibly wide and cheeks flaming. Tony and Peter stand immobile, the world reduced to beat up sneakers breaking the simplicity of yellow lines on black, a flickering neon sign telling them the shawarma place is open and two hearts slowly starting to beat again after that confession.

Ned would say it's romantic. MJ would bluntly remind them it's a bad idea to stand in the middle of the road even if they're saying I love you. And with good reason, since there's the telltale roar of a car bursting with teenagers, voices howling out the lyrics to an AC/DC song. And of course Peter notices the noise of rubber swerving against gravel, the screeching of old brakes and a few terrified shrieks harmonizing with a sharp wind blasting into him out of nowhere. Before he can react, Tony is there, wrapping his arms around Peter and shoving them both into the little patch of grass that grows from a crack in dirty pavement.

There's a moment where his whole world flips, tumbles until he screws his eyes shut and prepare himself for whatever the fuck caused that noise. But nothing comes. Only a sigh blowing a stray curl away from his forehead. But a sigh? Why would?

Tony.

He gasps, jolts upright and apologizes when that just serves to jostle his boyfriend further into the ground. His boyfriend who'd flip them so Peter wouldn't be hurt. Tony is peering at him through half shut eyes, discomfort clear on the grimace he tried to transform into a sheepish grin.

"So, you love me, huh?"

It's the stupidest thing Tony Stark has ever said.

"What the fuck were you thinking? You could have gotten hurt, you could have shattered a wrist, dislocated a shoulder, torn an ACL, bent a leg-"

"This is not what I expected. Also it was a three foot leap forward on grass, I'm fine, Peter."

"Or bashed your head, or busted an arm and then what would you do for the game tomorrow? Who the hell does that?"

"The guy you love, apparently."

"That's not the point, Tony, that's unimportant because you nearly got hurt. Christ, Coulson will slaughter me if there's a scratch on you, and then your mom would be sad and I'd be sad because, what would I do without you? And don't you ever do that again, I can't take it. I am not losing you, Tony. God, why would you do that, risk so much on-"

"On you? Babe, I'd do it again. Ok, not the right thing to say based on the whole face thing you got going on right now. But just hear me out. Don't, stop hitting me, ow, why are you hitting, how are you this strong, Jesus. Ow, stop it. Peter, for fuck's sakes, I love you, you animal. Now please let go of the jacket, it'll get wrinkles."

His hands unclasp the soft cotton, Tony falling back with a groan and Peter's unhinged jaw snapping shut after fifteen seconds of letting the flies in.

It's a wonderful thing, hearing the guy he's loved for so long say it back, say he loves Peter.

It's also fucking stupid since there's even more reason to not do stunts like that.

"You're an idiot. I'm in love with a guy that has one shared brain cell with Steve. You could have been hurt, Tony. And what would that have done, huh?"

His boyfriend sighs yet again, wraps an arm around Peter to push them from the ground and heads to the car where their friends are gawking. He waves them off, offers a "Yeah, I know I'm amazing, no, I didn't break anything, T'challa, yes, I can play, Jesus, Rogers, I can read you like a book. I appreciate the worry, Bruce; Nat, thanks for calming him down. Rhodes, excellent driving. No need to hog the seats, Sam, we need to settle in. Peter, you can keep cursing me out if you, yeah, see how it's nice being fun size when you fit in my lap in a car full of people. What, I'm not walking after that, I don't care if it's til we reach the parking. Let's go, Rhodes. Pepper, I'm fine. "

Clint offers a high five. Tony responds and that's that. Out of sight, Ned gives him a fist bump and MJ keeps on reading her book. It could just be his imagination, but Tony's sure she's smiling, approval clear on her face. He preens, glad to have her blessing, and settles his head on Peter's fluffy hair.

-----

When they're all laughing in a booth, smashed together and picking food off of everyone's plate, Peter nuzzles the crook of his neck, holds his hand and squeezes it. Tony smiles, lights up and shoves at Sam's face when the trio of best friends tease him for puffing his chest out when his boyfriend ever so softly says, "I love you."

"I love you, too." The table whoops and calls for another round of food and Coca-Cola, their family grinning at them and fondly teasing the new couple. Tony grins back, high on this feeling of warmth and happiness and safety and love.

And then Peter presses ice cold lips onto his neck and he lets out a shout, pain coursing through him when a knee slams into the table. His eyes water and through the haze of agony he sees their friends exchanging cash, some grumbling and others smirking. Rhodey and MJ, he notes, are the ones that win the most. They high five before pocketing the cash and ordering dessert.

Peter kisses his cheek, smile innocent and eyes wicked. It's his own fault Tony snatches an ice cube and slips it below his Nirvana shirt. He only has five seconds to lord his victory over Peter before there's ice cream being smeared on his cheek. They battle then, accidentally sending food into Wanda's lap, Clint's hair and Bucky's face.

In less than a minute they are all covered in shawarma and participating in the fight. Peter shrieks when Tony pulls him into his lap, gets chicken on the varsity jacket and tries to wriggle away. But Tony kisses him, tastes ice cream and joy, thanks whoever decided to give him a break and find this incredible person dozing on the roof of the school with Ned and MJ one spring afternoon. Peter kisses back and, at the same time, they say, confidently, honestly,

"I love you."

This is dedicated to @drarryismyshit07

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spankingwishes-longer · 3 years

Text

On the Way to Class – Part IIIa

A few weeks back I had a couple of ‘Tuesday morning spankings’ added to my routine because my life was kind of… trying. It’s not always that way, as the next few weeks proved – which is not to say that I didn’t get spanked! I still got some lovely naughty-girl spankings and even a couple of good-girl spankings (have to be careful with the naughty-girl spankings because they do leave me sore and if I mess up, I’m punished on a sore bottom – ouch!).

But I guess these things go in cycles… I was chatting with Melissa and let her know I needed some attention from ‘Mrs. Hunter’… it never seems to faze her at all, we talked about some of my worries, which were a lot, and I knew our Sunday date would be difficult for my bottom… before I could chicken out I said “And? Do you think I could come by Tuesday morning, if you have a minute? Or more?” She’s busy during the day but had, twice now, fit in a really quick (but really hard!) spanking when I was on my way to class.

“Of course, sweetie,” she replied, sounding more concerned than ever (which reflected how I felt). “Do you think you could come by a little earlier?”

I had nothing before class but waking up, so I could make it anytime – and said so. Hoping for the best, I asked, “Half an hour? More?” hoping we’d have time for some post-spanking fooling around.

“Oh, Nicole, I’m sorry – I just meant, say, five minutes.” This sort of had the opposite effect on me – last time she had spanked my really a lot in seemingly less than a minute – what could she do with five extra? I squirmed in my seat and started regretting – kinda – asking for an extra spanking on a bottom that was sure to be sore from Sunday.

“Let’s just say 9:25,” she finalized, “Don’t be late!” This last part was said in the typical cheery fashion, the way people do, but I shivered. I’m not the type to ever be late on purpose just to get extra swats, but the idea of doing so is sorta delicious…

Sunday was as expected and more… over her knee for a short, thick paddle that she used to work a serious soreness deep into my buns… then when she was done she told me she thought I could have said something sooner and we could have started ‘addressing’ it on Thursday… so I’d be getting another spanking before I left. “And not a nice one,” she told me, even as I was still sobbing from the one she’d already given me! (Of course I was so attentive and dutiful until the time came, pleasing her in every way she could want, mentally keeping her in her ‘Mrs. Hunter’ role the whole time, and ‘letting her have her way with me’…) I guess I should say ‘it could have been worse’ but I found myself over the arm of her sofa so she could see what effect her strap would have on my throbbing rear… the answer was mostly just ‘lots’ and I howled and begged and apologized for ‘trying to get away with manipulating my spanking schedule’…

Anyway, I was still really sore on Tuesday morning and made darn sure I got there on time – early, even, and had to wait for her to finish up with a business phone call, but I figured if it might be taking important minutes off of my spanking I should be glad.

The big difference was that I’d worn a skirt, which is something I never do. It was no big deal, really, except it made me feel like a kid (I wore knee socks and Mary Janes with it) but Mrs. Hunter said I looked really cute and should wear one more often (I didn’t know if this was a suggestion, an ‘order’, or she was just being nice, but I figured if it became important she’d tell me).

“I just figured a skirt would give you some options – you know, over it, or flipped up…” I might have considered a thong (to make things easier for her) but I’m not allowed to wear one).

“How very considerate,” she told me as she guided me to a bedroom. “I didn’t really like the fact that last time I couldn’t see what effect I was having on your bottom.” So, bare, that meant – I guess I couldn’t be too surprised, as she had me kneel on a chest and bend over the foot of the bed. Another ‘school paddle’ – a see-through one this time – was lying on the bed in front of me (though not for long). I felt my panties being slipped down and whimpered a little, thinking that this was probably a mistake.

Well, you get punished for your mistakes (one way or another) and I got punished for this one.

It must have been longer than the last time because I got what felt like twice as many swats, though still fast. Before long I was crying and clutching the bedcovers, trying to hold on for dear life. With a few words about ‘getting me everything I need’ (which I always think requires me to say ‘thank you’) she really blistered my poor bottom!

Afterward she told me to ‘come out when I’m ready’ and got right back to work (turns out she had another important call she’d put off a few minutes to accommodate me). I stayed where I was until I stopped crying and settled down, then went to leave. She interrupted her call long enough to kiss me goodbye – a kiss that neither of us wanted to break off – and I was once again out the door, red-eyed and sore-bottomed. Everything had made this a terrible spanking – my bottom had been sore in the first place, the paddle stung twice as much as the wooden one (maybe because it was on the bare this time) and she’d used it twice as long, at least! Plus the abrupt endings were hard to take but appropriate, I suppose, and sort of exciting. The only plus was that it hadn’t left me any sorer than the wooden one would have, had I not been so sore already.

I took a few minutes in the car before leaving and had just enough time, with the drive to the campus and being early, to make my face look like some minor allergies at the worst – or maybe that I was stoned!

Part IIIb

I got to my first class and my bottom was still stinging like crazy and my head was filled with the three spankings I’d gotten in the last 48 hours! Believe me, I was sitting on a very tender bottom, thrilling to the idea that the slightest mistake would get me a repeat of the clear-paddle spanking I’d just been given! (Also, I hadn’t completely let go of the thought ‘what if I’d shown up late’.) The idea that I was taking perfect notes was kinda making me happy – and the thought of how well I was ‘taken care of’ (as Melissa calls it) was thrilling and comforting at the same time.

My first class, Business Accounting, had little participation and I let other people ask all the questions. I knew that after lunch my English class – Writing – would be basically a discussion and tried to brace myself for that – but at the moment nothing could touch me.

Then a strange thing happened – well, more than one. Or, one, but more than once. A girl in my class told me I looked ‘cute’ and seemed to mean it (not a slam on my usual band t-shirt and ripped jeans) and a second girl started talking to me just out of the blue. By the time I’d gotten to my next class, a guy had tried to talk to me, too.

By the end of the day, three girls had said they liked my outfit and two had started conversations. Three separate guys had come up to me and one asked me to coffee (while I was on my way to lunch). I tried not to be rude but I seriously considered whether I should ever wear a skirt again or not.

#Mrs.-Melissa-Hunter-and-Nicole

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weasleydream · 4 years

Text

Grenade

This is my participation for @firewhisky-kisses writing challenge!

My prompts were “I would rather be hurt and be with you than be okay without you” and “Why does it sound like you’re saying goodbye?”

This idea came to me after listening to Grenade - Bruno Mars (as you see i’ve been really creative for the title 🙈)

Hope you’ll enjoy as much as I did!

Masterlist

(gif not mine)

“George, I’m begging you, please, say something.”

Silence.

“George!”

“You- you lied to me.”

“Hello boys!”

The twins turned toward me in the same movement, a pretty cute bewildered expression on their face. One of them - George, I reckoned - stared silently at me while the other one, who had to be Fred, smirked.

“Looks like the snake stepped in the lion pit.” he said.

“Remember big cat, a snake can bite.”

“Look at this George, she thinks she can scare us!”

“Pretty funny for a girl half our size.” answered George, who had apparently gained back his senses.

“And half our talent.” added his twin.

“Ouch!” I shouted. “That hurt!”

“Tell me Y/L/N, why are you here sitting between us at our table so early in the morning?”

“I saw you, I felt sorry for you and wanted to brighten your day with my presence.”

“At the beginning, yes, but after-”

“After nothing, Y/N!”

I had never seen him in such a state of sadness. That was destroying me.

“George, you don’t-”

“You said you loved me!”

“Hello boys!”

This time, and like every morning for the past two months, there was already room for me between them. I installed and began to eat my eggs, only to feel Fred moving next to me. He left, briefly patting George’s shoulder before disappearing in a crowd of sixth years. These scenes were becoming more and more usual, not that I was complaining. I loved George’s company, way more than Fred’s one. George was a soft guy, and softness was more than welcome in a life that was mine but decided by everyone but me.

“After potions, do you think you can join me in the clock tower courtyard?”

“Of course. Can I ask you why?” I asked when I noticed he was avoiding my gaze.

After the longest potion class I ever had, I happened to hear George confessing his feelings for me, and I happened to confess my feelings for him.

“I love you.”

“And I meant it!” I cried. “I never lied on my feelings for you George, trust me!”

“How can I trust you? How can I believe any word that comes from your mouth when it was all a lie?”

“Y/N, the Dark Lord is back. You have one mission: befriend someone close to Harry Potter.”

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

I had never wanted any of this to happen. Not even in my worst nightmares had I imagined that two of the only people really counting for me would disappear of my life, pushed away by a betrayal I had never wanted. How could I have known? Until the end of my sixth year at Hogwarts, I didn’t even know my parents were Death Eaters. I was just a Slytherin girl, a pure-blood hanging out with other pure-bloods, a banal student who didn’t give a fuck about what didn’t concern her.

But when the Dark Lord had truly come back, when he had threatened my parents to make them regret their volte-face after his disparition, everything had changed. What was before our sumptuous apartment in the heart of London became the headquarters of all the threatened former Death Eaters in desperate need of a chance for redemption. What were innocent discussions with my friends became prudent conversations about the most random subjects possible. What was a life became a living hell.

But this darkness had brought the brightest light in my life when my parents had ordered me to get close to one of Harry Potter’s relatives. Deciding who I would get close to hadn’t been difficult; Fred and George Weasley were in their last year, like me. Approaching them hadn’t been hard too, it had been quite natural in fact. Becoming friend with them had been a piece of cake, and falling in love with George had been the easiest thing ever.

But each time my parents asked me if I knew something else about Potter, the reality crushed me a bit more. I had tried to convince myself I wasn’t really playing with him, after all my feelings were sincere, but that was a lie. As much as my heart would beat at the mention of his name, as much as my cheeks would become red at the sensation of his lips on my skin, I was lying to the boy I loved.

I had decided to tell him. Screw them, screw the Dark Lord, I had thought. George doesn’t deserve that, and if I have to be punished for telling him the truth, then that will be my redemption. Deep down, I had kept this foolish hope that he would shrug it off, enveloping me in one of his warm embraces, the ones that made me feel oh so safe and loved, and would tell me that it didn’t matter. That I loved him and he loved me, that nothing was more important.

God, I was so wrong. As soon as the fatal words had come out of my mouth, I had felt the consequences on him. His heart breaking, his mind slowly understanding what I had done, why I had slipped between him and Fred this day during the breakfast. George was so hurt yet so angry, and I had just kept my head down, accepting all the hate Fred, who was there, had thrown me, fighting the tears that threatened to roll. George had said plenty of true things, that I was a filthy liar, that he would have been better without me, but there was one thing I couldn’t let him think. When he had asked bitterly why I had to pretend to love him, I had looked directly in his eyes and, seeing his tears through mine, I had whispered.

“If there’s only one authentic thing in my life, it’s my love for you.”

From this day, the little light that had kept me sane disappeared. The end of the school year had seemed to last forever, and the glares absolutely each Gryffindor gave me were too much to bear. A week later, George seemed to be back to his old self, except that before me he would have never looked at someone like he looked at me. During the following year, my life became worse and, from what I heard, George’s became way better. He had realized his dream, he was happy running his shop with Fred, and nothing could have made me happier than to see his smiling face on the Prophet’s pages.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

George,

I know you hate me but please, trust me. You’ve been betrayed. Whatever you’re preparing, be sure it’s worth the risk, because Death Eaters will be waiting for you.

Stay safe.

I love you.

The letter had arrived in the first hours of the day, attached to an exhausted little white owl. Of course, the parchment didn’t need to be signed as George knew perfectly who was behind this mysterious warning. Honestly, he didn’t know what to think about this, and alone in the Burrow’s kitchen, the only light in the room coming from his wand, he felt more lost than he ever had before. It felt like he was surrounded by the unknown, Merlin, even what he felt was unknown for him, and yet he wanted to believe in her. Every fiber of his heart screamed him that he loved her, that he would have done anything for her, and that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance she would do the same for him. After all, this piece of paper covered in a shaky writing was a proof, wasn’t it? A cold fear sent shivers down his spine when he thought of the risks she had taken.

Then, the doubts arrived. What if she had been caught? What if it was a lie? What if she was in more danger than he soon would be? What if it was another conspiracy from her parents?

“George? What are you doing here?”

Another little light had appeared in the kitchen, this time coming right from Fred’s wand. Without a word, George gestured toward the letter and Fred took it. His face was twisted with a frown of incomprehension until he read the last line.

“What the hell is that?” It was funny to see how, when it came to Y/N, Fred was always in a terrible rage when George didn’t know what to feel. “Don’t tell me you believe that?” he asked throwing the paper away.

“And if it was true? Fred, imagine she’s heard that and-”

“And betrayed her parents? When you think about it, that’s all she does, it wouldn’t be that surprising.” Fred laughed in disbelief. “George, Y/N is a liar! A liar, you hear me? Don’t trust that bullshit. She’s written that because her parents asked her to, she-”

He stopped when George abruptly got up and rested his hands on the counter, his gaze lost in the pale light slowly illuminating the sky. Fred sighed and glanced once more at the letter, his eyes stopping on the last words.

“Stop thinking about this, George. It’s not worth it, trust me.”

Fred had never been more wrong in his life, and he understood it as soon as the seven Potters and their protectors rose into the sky to get Harry safe to the Burrow. Later that night, when he was sitting next to George and sure he would be okay, there was only one coherent thought in his head.

Y/N warned us and now she is in danger.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

I knew that was coming. I had known since the day He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named came back. I thought I was prepared. I thought I knew what fear was, after living terrified for months because I was surrounded by Death Eaters and I had betrayed them. But I had to admit the ice running through my veins and scratching my heart a bit more with each second were worse than all I could have imagined. Cotton would have been more solid than my legs at the moment, when I was walking on my toes in the middle of the crowded corridor of Hogwarts. From the moment I had apparated in Hogsmeade, following the advice of whoever animated Potterwatch, and rushed into the tunnel leading to the castle to find an empty Room of Requirements, the only thought giving me enough strength to always make one more step was that an imminent mortal danger was hanging over us, over George, and that I still had to redeem myself. Ironically, my potential death, or confrontation with my parents, or whatever could happen to me in the next hours, all of that was nothing compared to the fear that maybe George would hate me forever.

I was so deep in my thoughts that I hadn’t realized I had bumped into someone and I barely muttered a sorry before walking away. Or trying to walk away.

“Y/N?”

Of course, I had bumped into George. Who else? As I mentally cursed whoever could be responsible, George slowly put his hands on my shoulders.

“Y/N, look at me. Hey, look at me…”

His voice, barely audible, didn’t hold any trace of the hatred I had dreaded. It seemed calm, an appearance of course, and surprised too. He slowly, gently, lifted my chin. The world around us was like gone, and the only thing that mattered was the sweet warmth brought by George’s touch. I grabbed his wrist and placed his hand on my cheek.

“What are you doing here?” he murmured, and despite the noise surrounding us, I heard perfectly.

“I needed to come. George, I wanted to tell you-”

“No.” He had placed his finger on my lips and a tiny smile parted his lips. “Whatever you have to say is less important than the fact that I love you.”

And he leaned in. He had said he loved me a thousand of times, but it had never sounded so genuine. We had shared plenty of kisses, but no one had ever carried so much emotions. Love, fear, worry, forgiveness, this simple contact between our lips was in fact an unspoken promise, the one that nothing would never tear us apart anymore. The one that once this war over, we would live our love story the way we should have lived it from the beginning.

The second thing I had dreaded the most was Fred’s reaction. I had expected shouts for sure, maybe one or two curses, but never in my dreams had I imagined he could hug me the way he did, in a bone-crushing hug and muttering “Sorry, I’m sorry.” as if his life depended on it.

“I should be the one saying that.” I said softly. “I’m the one who lied to you and-”

“And risked your life to warn us.” finished George. “Without you, I would have lost more than my ear, love.”

“Your- what?”

I turned vividly to him and- How the hell could I have missed that gaping hole on the side of his face? I literally felt the blood living my face and the tear forming in my eyes.

“Fuck, sorry, I thought you had seen, I just- oh, sorry Y/N.”

I threw my arms around his neck and sobbed like a baby. I didn’t know why that affected me that much, and I thought about it for a few seconds until the devil on my shoulder whispered in my ear.

“You haven’t warned him soon enough. You should have gone to see him in person. You should have given him more informations. You-”

“-should have been more tactful, dear brother.” Fred was making fun of George, and a part of my brain wondered how he could still be joking while the other kept focusing on my guilt.

“I’m sorry George…” I finally choked out when my sobs had eventually calmed down. “If I had warned you sooner, or-”

“Or nothing love.” he cut me. He cupped my cheeks with his big hands and forced me to look at him. “Without you, I would be dead. Your warning saved me Y/N, because I already knew we would be surrounded. You saved my life, love, never apologize for that. Okay?”

I nodded weakly and took a deep breath before following George and Fred in the Great Hall.

The battle had only just begun, yet I felt like we were totally screwed up. Even though I had heard plenty of things during the meetings my parents organized at home, I could have never expected that our enemy had gathered such a great army. We had the advantage of the place, because each of us knew Hogwarts and its newest defenses by heart, but that was all. The Death Eaters were cruel, bloodthirsty and had no limits. And there was so many of them! For each Hogwarts student, professor or member of the Order of the Phoenix, there were five or six Death Eaters. Between two spells, I caught a glimpse of a girl arriving on her broom and landing next to Fred. I was back to back with George, Fred covering our right and Percy Weasley our left.

Slowly, the group of Death Eaters we were facing disappeared, our enemies being on the floor and having run away for the others. The girl on the broom left, and Fred immediately pushed us to move.

“Come on, they need help near the Great Hall, these bastards are trying to get in there.”

But when we finally arrived in front of the Great Hall, it was clear that the situation had evolved. Plenty of powerful wizards and witches had routed the Death Eaters. By mutual agreement, we decided to split in two teams to protect each end of the corridor, and after a few minutes of argument, Fred left with Percy and George stayed with me.

From this moment, I would be unable to say what was happening. A new wave of enemies was hitting us, and despite the dozen of wands come for backup, we were losing. The bodies were accumulating around us, and sometimes I stopped for a second when my eyes fell on a known face. Without even realizing it, the fights had brought George and I far from the Great Hall, and when George fell after spreading his ankle, the provisary infirmary was way too far for me. I did my best to drag him in a broom closet dissimulated by a statue.

“Are you okay? George, how do you feel?”

I was clearly panicking and only relaxed a bit when George pulled me against him.

“Shut up, would you? Ginny’s Pygmy Puff has already hurt me more than that.”

“You idiot…” I murmured.

It was a strange feeling, being here, safe in George’s arms when a war was raging outside, killing more people we knew with each second. I eventually looked up and met his gaze.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he whispered. “If you knew how worried I was after your letter… If they had done anything to you…”

“You shouldn’t have worried, not when you were the one risking your life and losing an ear…” My voice broke when I thought of how he could have been killed.

“Love, I’d rather be hurt with you than be okay without you.” He rested his forehead on mine and gently stroked my cheeks as I desperately hid my hands in his soft hair. “If a missing ear and a spread ankle are all it takes for me to be with you, then I’ll gladly accept it.”

“It’s unfair, George… I don’t want you to suffer, I don’t want you risking to die- I just-”

“Hey, I’m not dying yet baby! I’m too precious for this world.” he winked at me and smiled goofily. Oh, how I adored this smile!

I rolled my eyes before helping him getting up.

“We should bring you back to the Great Hall. You’ll be able to stand?”

“I don’t need to be able to stand, I just need to be able to cast spells!”

“Because you think I’ll carry you? In your dreams, boy! You walk and I protect us.”

“You know you’re hot when you give me orders?” I glanced at George in disbelief, but immediately blushed furiously when I caught his eyes. “It reminds me of this night when you-”

“Shut up!”

I precipitately stuck my hand on his mouth. I was sure I knew the voices that were coming toward us, and if they heard us, I was pretty sure that wouldn’t end well.

“Hit me.”

His eyes rounded and George looked at me like I was getting crazy.

“George, hit me, now!”

He reluctantly obliged and I slipped out of the closet rubbing my cheek. I was right, I knew the three Death Eaters that were passing just in front the closet George was still hiding in.

“Y/L/N?” one of them shouted. “The hell are you doing here?”

“Took care of someone.” I grumbled. “Where are you going?”

“Rookwood is leading a few of us for a little show in a corridor of the east wing. Come with us, it will be fun!”

With that, the three of them walked away and a sigh of relief escaped my mouth.

“Y/L/N?”

I jumped and turned toward the Death Eater.

“This someone fought pretty well, didn’t they?” he said pointing at the bruise forming on my cheek.

“He’s in a much worse state than me.”

And he definitely left. When his silhouette disappeared at the corner of the corridor, I rushed to the closet and helped George getting out.

“So you took care of me, huh?”

“Shut up and walk.” I groaned.

Our way to the Great Hall was pretty uneventful. As it seemed, all the enemies were getting to the east wing, and even though none of us said it out loud, we weren’t less dreading it. Anybody could be there, and it would get very dangerous soon. Despite his goodwill, walking was becoming a big struggle for George, and I ended up supporting most of his weight until we finally reached the Great Hall. Madam Pomfrey almost immediately handed George a vial before disappearing as fast as she had appeared. I waited until George had finished all the potion before grabbing his face and kiss him passionately.

“What was that for?” he asked. His eyes were still closed and a small smile was on his lips, and I admired him until he opened his eyes to look at me. If I died tonight, this was the image I wanted to bring with me.

“I love you George. I’ve loved you since the day I slipped between you and Fred in this same room. Remember that.”

“Why does it sound like you’re saying goodbye?”

“Because it’s probably a goodbye, love.”

I took a step backward, and George fell on the floor. I had always been good in casting nonverbal spells, and as it seemed I mastered the stunning spell. George couldn’t come with me, because what I was going to do was probably a suicide mission.

This is my redemption. This is why I came here. I’ll stop this bastard of Rookwood.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

This was the calm after the storm, the kind of silence that seems so strange, almost uncomfortable after all the noise you’ve heard. It was safe to say that everyone in the Great Hall had heard enough screams for the night and even probably for a lifetime, and now advices, words of comforts, cries and futile stories were shared in the lowest tone possible to not disturb this somehow peaceful silence.

The Weasley family was gathered in a corner, all of them sitting close to each other in an attempt of convincing themselves that the war was finally over. They were all here: Bill hugging tightly Fleur, Ginny sitting straight between Charlie and Percy, Molly in Arthur’s arms, both thanking the skies that their family was still alive, Ron with his arm wrapped around Hermione’s shoulders, and Fred and George, waiting anxiously for Y/N’s return.

She had disappeared just after stupefying George, and the latter had been woken up by Charlie who had been the first to join the Great Hall after the end of the battle, Y/N having begged Madam Pomfrey to let him stunned as long as possible. After that, George and Charlie had waited for their family to come back and George had been unable to leave them to look for Y/N. So he had waited and waited.

Slowly but surely, the flow of survivors reaching the Great Hall decreased, and about an hour later, only two or three people stepped occasionally in the room. However, the more the time passed, the more lifeless bodies were brought by volunteers by another door on the side of the room, and George was simply unable to look in this direction. By now, no matter how hard he tried to keep hope, a vicious fear was crawling along his spine and a devious voice kept murmuring in his head that she was dead. Sometimes, when he glanced at the front door or, when he had the courage, at the side door, his heart would stop for a second. A glimpse of Y/H/C hair, a black jacket like the one she was wearing, his mind seemed to be focused on the details remembering him of Y/N.

That’s why, tired of this sickening feeling each time his hopes were disappointed, he stopped looking around and fixed his knees. No one tried to talk to him, not even Fred who felt highly responsible, because George had told him she had probably gone to the east wing and he was there too. Fred didn’t know it and he would probably never, but Y/N had prevented a terrible explosion from killing him.

That’s when, without any warning sign, someone slipped between George and Fred.

“Hello boys!”

#stephs200challenge #Harry Potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine #george weasley #george x reader #george weasley x reader #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x you

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mhdiaries · 4 years

Photo

Frights, Camera, Action! – Hauntlywood Clawdia Wolf Diary

August 25th

Today I was walking through the streets of Londoom I just wanted to howl and do a little dance because I’m so excited to be here. I didn’t, of course, do the dancing part, since I’m the one with the “clumsy gene” in our family and I didn’t want to fall through an open monster hole cover. It has never bothered me that I’m not as athletic as the rest of the pack, because I think it was pretty apparent even when I was a cub that I was better at writing stories about my brothers’ and sisters’ athletic exploits than participating in them. It’s not that I didn’t try, but my mind and body may have been in concert but they were not playing the same tune. I remember the last organized soccer game I played: the coach put me in the goal partly because I was tall for my age and partly because he thought that perhaps the prospect of a ball being rocketed toward me might keep my attention. It worked for a bit, until the ball stayed at the other end of the pitch for a while, and a butterfly landed on the net. All of a sudden I became a ferocious were-spider who decided to give the butterfly a reprieve. So I climbed up in the net to shoo it away when I heard my dad yell, “Clawdia, turn around!” A ghoul was on a breakaway, and the only thing between her and me was open pitch and the ball. I tried to turn, and my spikes caught in the net, so I just closed my eyes and leaped toward the front of the goal. Somehow the ball ended up in my claws, and I kept the ghoul from scoring. It was my one and only athletic achievement, so I retired with my legacy in check and got a good story out of it, which, I’m sure, will end up in one of my screamplays some day.

September 8th

I was sitting in the lecture hall today not really paying attention like I should have been, partly because I was working on a not-for-that-class writing assignment and partly, okay, mostly, because symbolism in ghost-modern, neo-realist goblin cinema is only slightly less painful than rolling in flea-infested wolf’s bane. Honestly, I have no idea what a goblin miner wearing a red hat and pushing an empty ore cart says about the state of modern goblin-kobold relations. I’m sure it is profound and important, but well... it doesn’t matter. What did matter, howere, was that the professor asked a question that he wanted all of us to answer, and I didn’t hear the question. I could have asked him to repeat the question, of course, but then I would have had to acknowledge that I had not been paying attention, and since this particular professor hates that, I knew I was going to have to wing it on the answer. Which made me nervous, which made me look for something to chew on, which meant I wasn’t listening to the other answers, which meant I didn’t have a clue when he got to me. So when he said, “Ms. Wolf?” I said I didn’t think I could add anything to the discussion that had not been more profoundly stated in the answers my classmates had already given. This caused the rest of the class to burst out laughing, to which the professor said, “While I appreciate your humility, your answer leaves us no closer to knowing how many siblings you have.” I was mortalfied, but even more so when he said, “Please do try and pay better attention going forward.” Unlive and learn, Clawdia, unlive and learn.

September 15th

I’ve been using my iCoffin tablet to do some of my writing lately, and I really like it. I mean, I like the tablet. It’s great for doing video chats, and there are some really cool Londoom based apps that have helped me find my way around the city better. As for the writing part, I still prefer my chewed pen and leghoul pad. It may be old-fashioned, but there’s something about a blank sheet of paper that’s less intimidating than a blank scream with a blinking cursor.

October 1st

The only thing that’s coming down faster than the temperature in Londoom right now is the rain. I’m not sure what the real temp is, but you know it’s cold when a werewolf has to put on her fuzzy wool socks... brrr... fortunately, dad did a good job preparing me for this climate by never allowing to turn the thermostat up past the “I can see my breath” mark during the winter. We would say, “Dad, the house is freezing!” to which he would always reply, “You can either have heat or you can eat.” Followed quickly by, “We’re werewolves, for ghoul’s sake, put on a sweater if you’re cold.” Then we’d all look at mom, who would just shrug her soldiers. It was one of the only things she couldn’t change his mind about. So we’d all just sit snuggled together on the couch watching bad TV, complaining about Howleen’s sharp, unclipped paw nails and making promises about what we’d do when we all moved out and got our own places. I distinctly remember saying that I would turn up the heat so high that it would make Gloom Beach seem like a Yeti cave. So the first time it got cold here, I did just that, and it was every bit as amazing as I imagined it would be, until I got my first heating bill. Let’s just say that grocery shopping for the next few weeks gave me a completely different perspective on dad’s old saying. I’m pretty confident that saltines and marmite will never darken the shelves of my cupboard again after having that formerly tasty combination as my only breakfast and lunch option for a fortnight. I’m really missing being able to snuggle up on the couch with my pack of siblings, and I wouldn’t even complain about Howleen’s uncut paw nails... well, maybe not a lot.

October 6th

I had a great video chat with the fam tonight, and they could not stop talking about Draculaura being chosen as queen of the vampires. They were in complete shock, and I have to admit it was quite a surprise to me as well. The vampires haven’t had a queen since the last chosen one, a young vampire ghoul named Elissabat, disappeared some 400 years ago. What is really curious about this, as if Draculaura being chosen as the new queen right out of the boo wasn’t curious enough, is that Clawdeen told me Draculaura’s choice was confirmed by the Vampire’s Heart. I have actually been doing quite a bit of research on the heart, which is really just a massive jewel with magical properties, for a screamplay I wanted to write about the mystery of the missing queen. There are many scholars that believe the jewel disappeared at the same time the ghoul who would be queen did; so either the scholars are incorrect, or there is more here than meets the eye. I didn’t want to be the one to rain on the funeral though, until I had a little more proof, especially with Clawdeen being so excited about attending the coronation. I did notice that Clawd wasn’t in the room with everyone else, and I’m wondering how he is dealing with this news.

October 7th

Clawdeen has sent me at least 30 texts and emails since last night detailing the fashions she’s thinking about taking to the coronation. I can see her now running around the room with absolutely every piece of clothing she owns spread out so she can mix and match fashions. She’s probably also been through Draculaura’s closet several times as well. I love her so much and I wish I could be there to make her laugh when she starts getting too serious. She’s so beautiful, though, that whatever she chooses will probably steal the show. I finally got an IM from Clawd asking if we could talk. This wasn’t unusual, since Clawd prefers one-on-one conversation to fighting for face time in a group. When he popped up on the screen he looked terrible, almost like he’d been crying, although it might have just been bad lighting. As usual, Clawd didn’t want to talk about himself and instead wanted to know every little thing I was doing. I finally had to say, “Stop howling around the moon and talk to me, little brother.” So he did. He told me that he didn’t trust the Lord Stoker character that showed up with the Vampire’s Heart claiming it led him to Draculaura. What’s more, neither did Draculaura. They both thought Draculaura would be miserable being queen, but that she would feel honor and duty bound to take the throne. Even so he was trying to be as supportive as possible and went on for a few more minutes about things that were worrying him. When he stopped I said, “You really love her, don’t you?” He looked down for a moment and swallowed hard, “She’s my best friend, sis, and I’m about to lose her forever.” Now it was my turn to swallow hard, and then he made an excuse about having to leave for practice and said a hasty goodbye. I’m going to do some more digging into this, because something doesn’t pass the smell test here, and a Wolf’s nose is always right.

#monster high #monster high diary #frights camera action #hauntlywood #clawdia wolf

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annaktheslightlygay · 4 years

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Almost - Part 1

It’s odd looking back, how little she remembers. Somehow Beca had made it here, to someplace in the middle of god damn nowhere, coerced to wear a blindfold led through the dark to this room. There was a sense of erie calmness that overtook her body in the car. Yet here, standing on some sort of wooden deck, it was replaced by a need to rip her blindfold off and get the hell out of here. She didn’t, though. “It would ruin the surprise, Beca!” Yeah, okay Chloe. Somehow the both of us didn’t anticipate this though so I’m not sure if this applies, Beca thought. She shifted her weight from one leg to another, waiting.

____

Literally, why was it so hard to get up out of bed? Maybe it was because there was literally no one there to judge her for it. It was not her fault her roommate dropped out the day college started. She thought that they could suffer through it together but it looks like that girl had the right idea: this sucked. There was no one here and no one to talk to. Not that Beca loved talking or anything, but it was nice to know that if she died or something at least someone would wonder if she was ever coming back. All she was really accountable for was keeping her plant alive at this point. And even he– she glanced over at him, drooping in the little pot in the corner of her windowsill– wasn’t looking good. When kids meant they cared about “streaks” these days, I don’t think they meant this.

This was the fifth day in a row she’d be laying in her dorm room, switching between her Netlfix and Hulu tabs religiously. But hey, at least she wasn’t hungry! Or, more likely, she’d surpassed hunger into the nauseous stage. She winced. That’s not great, even by Beca standards. She was pretty sure that was not recommended.

It was 4pm. That meant the dining hall wasn’t open with the exception of a few cereal options and rejected pieces of fruit from meals earlier in the day. Still, Beca headed to the elevator and indicated the first floor. Two people– a redhead and a brunette– got in on her long way down from the twelfth floor. Not bad for a building with a thousand people. The less human interaction, the better.

The food was bad, and but numbing. I mean, she couldn’t expect miracles from a bowl of captain crunch and a questionable banana, but still. Maybe she’d come back later that night. Maybe. That seemed like ages from now.

As she exited she thought vaguely of the library and of the textbook chapter she had yet to read for tomorrow. God, even just thinking of class was an exhausting thought. And still, she went. Usually. She knew that her dad would get a direct report if she didn’t. So yes, she did show up. But that didn’t mean she had to pay attention or, god forbid, participate.

Beca turned, deciding against it. A large body stopped her. Well, that was putting it nicely. Fat Amy basically initiated her, knocking most of the air from Beca’s lungs.

“Dude, watch it.”

“Yeah well maybe if you weren’t so busy looking lost I wouldn’t have to stop with the sheer force of my cooch.” Fat Amy said.

“Your what?”

Beca had heard of this girl. She was the one who poured pink hair dye all over some girl’s head after she called her a fat bitch. She must have just been called Amy back then, but the name stuck. Even good-natured professors found themselves calling her that. She was loud, obnoxious, and her Australian accent was so prominent Beca (and others) often wondered if it was even real. Claiming to be a fantastic exotic dancer (with a specialty in mermaid dancing apparently) Fat Amy was never one to miss a party.

“Here, you look like you could use this, short stuff.” Fat Amy thrust something to Beca’s chest. Before Beca could say a thing, Amy was gone as quickly as she had come.

Trivia night, huh? More like a situation where Beca would have to pretend to be occupied in her phone and to be social for a night. Still, it was starting in seven minutes, and Beca knew where it was. It beat going to the library and probably would help her case during her weekly check-ins with her therapist. Wow, Beca thought. A new low. Going to a social event so her therapist didn’t think she was lame.

Beca arrived at Barden’s Lion Den and found a seat just as the game started. Two girls asked if they could share the six-person table Beca occupied, and she obliged. The two girls sat and began discussing the answer to the first question. Dumbly, Beca realized she forgot to grab a card on her way in. There was no way she was going to draw attention to herself. Thank god for the iPhone that saved her in awkward social situations, like this one. She started scrolling, tapping haphazardly if she saw something that caught her eye. The two girls across from her excitedly discussed their answers, growing louder by the second. Beca realized that a third girl had joined them, promptly changing the topic to a party that night, related to the Barden Bellas.

Beca had heard of them of course– she had a bad habit of reading the posters that were always plastered through the hallways throughout the entire school– and often critiqued them in her mind. You’d be surprised how many administration approved posters there were that seemed to forget that spellcheck existed. Beca remembered the Bellas posters because of the flight attendant like uniforms that all of the girls on the poster sported, grinning from ear to ear. She kind of hated that poster. No people in college should be that happy, she thought.

Still, Beca heard bits and pieces. 8 pm. Meet at the Barden Lawn, and then head to a secondary location. Show up in green. It kind of sounded more like orders, to Beca. But immediately she did the math: 8pm wasn’t so bad for a Barden activity. Most things around here started at 11pm, at the earliest. And two social events in one week? There was no way Beca’s therapist could write her up or show any concern. This was healthy, and “very, very good, Beca!” She could practically hear Amber smiling. And, there was no invite needed.

Looking back, that had to be the night that she met Chloe. Chloe had to have been there with her, somewhere in the crowd with all the other chattering girls. But back then there was just a bunch of chatting girls that followed their leaders in a pack towards a supposed “secondary location”– a spot across town. Beca tried, like she always did, to make small talk with a few of the other girls on the way. As always, they became much more engaged in their own conversation than they did talking to Beca. So Beca trailed off behind them into the night air.

Notes: In this version, Beca is a little nicer and Chloe is most certainly not. This is a chiller version of the Bellas, and while there are some familiar members, there are also some new additions just to change it up a bit. Slow introduction to lots of drugs and alcohol, because that’s just what I felt like writing about. But let’s be real: you’re here to read about Bechloe, and I’m here to deliver– though I cannot promise that there will not be some angst to get there. With that, enjoy!

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kingspoetrysoc · 3 years

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Interview with Konstantinos Pappis

Konstantinos Pappis is a poet and King’s alumnus who studied Strategic Entrepreneurship and Innovation for his Master’s. He shares his blackout poems on Tumblr @blackout-diary and on Instagram @blackout_diary, and is the Music Editor at Our Culture. The King’s Poet’s Karen Ng talks to Konstantinos about his poetic experiences, process, and inspirations.

What is your earliest memory of poetry?

Like many people, my earliest memories of poetry are associated with school, where I felt pretty alienated by the way we approached poetry. It felt cold and analytical and I struggled to connect with it on a personal level – or perhaps there was less of a need to at that age. Although there were some Greek poets we studied in school whose work I remember liking, including C.P. Cavafy, Kostas Karyotakis, and Odysseas Elitis, it wasn't until later during my adolescence when I started discovering poetry outside of an academic context that I was able to appreciate it more. Things really started to change when I was introduced to English and American poets; for some reason, something about it not being in my native language made it easier to engage with and relate to. And then eventually I was able to approach different kinds of poetry from both an intellectual and an emotional standpoint.

How did you first realise you wanted to write poetry? What do you enjoy the most about writing?

In a word, Tumblr (RIP). But honestly, finding a community of people who used poetry as a form of expression more than anything else inspired me to do the same. I realised it wasn’t this inaccessible, overly sophisticated thing that you had to be especially clever or well-read to really get. Again, if you weren’t doing it to get a good grade, it was considered a bit weird to engage with poetry in any way, so seeing it outside of that context was pretty eye-opening.

It was also something that came with realising I had a passion for the arts in general. Music had always been my primary outlet, but poetry took over when I felt I needed the words to have more space on their own – to jump out on the page and release all the teenage angst I was going through, because listening to Creep every day somehow wasn’t enough. None of that poetry was any good, of course, but it was vital. And when I felt like this really personal thing was something I could share and exchange with friends, writing also became an important part of embracing vulnerability and forming close connections, too. I came to enjoy it more as a medium than an art form, in a way – at first, at least.

In terms of what I enjoy about it now… Well, it’s hard to articulate, but if we’re talking about writing poetry specifically, I guess the appeal hasn’t changed all that much. It’s been a while since I’ve felt inspired to write a poem, but in the past it’s always been when I felt like I need to channel something that I couldn’t through any other form. Some might view the poetic form as being kind of limiting, but I feel like it’s quite the opposite – it’s almost freeing in the endless possibilities that it presents.

Above: a blackout poem by Konstantinos. The source text is “Moon” by @makingthingswrite on Instagram.

You’ve written a lot of amazing blackout poems! What about this form appeals the most to you?

Blackout poetry appeals to me for almost entirely different reasons. I treat it more like a mental exercise that can be both calming and stimulating; something that operates on a more subconscious level. I like that I don’t have to be particularly inspired to do it, not even by the text that I’m using. I like that it doesn’t necessarily have to make sense, that I don’t have to stress over the final result too much. I like that it can then inspire me to make something else. I like the visual aspect of it, the act of repurposing something and giving it new meaning not just by altering the text but also its surroundings. Of course, people can make blackout poetry in a much more intentional way, but what sets it apart for me is that it’s a creative outlet that can be simple and almost passive yet gratifying at the same time.

How do you select a text for your blackout poems – where do you look? What do you look for?

It really varies: sometimes I’ll take photos from a book – I used to do blackout on old books nobody would ever open, but I switched to doing everything digitally – and sometimes I’ll search for poems or articles randomly online. Reviews often work quite well. There does have to be something about the text that sticks out to me for me to use it as a source, but I tend not to overthink it.

I love that – inspiration is everywhere in our daily lives, even when we aren’t looking for it! Can you tell us a little about your writing process? Is it more emotion-led or methodical?

For blackout it’s entirely intuitive. For poetry in general I would say it’s almost always emotion-led, but the editing part can be more methodical. Normally, a lot of it happens late at night when I can’t sleep, and if I can’t sleep long enough for me to write things down and it doesn’t strike me as absolutely terrible in the morning, then it might turn into a poem.

Above: a blackout poem by Konstantinos. The source text is Sam Sodomsky’s review of duendita’s song “Open Eyes”. Your poem pebble (an ode) was one of the first poems to be published in our magazine. It isn’t a blackout poem, but could you tell us a little about it too – do you remember what it was like writing it?

See above re: late-night thoughts and the utter absurdity of the human condition!

How has your experience of sharing your poetry to Instagram been? Are there any tips you could share with our readers?

I haven’t done it in a year, partly due to a lack of inspiration and partly because I’ve tried to distance myself from Instagram and other social media platforms as much as I can – though maybe I’ll go back to Tumblr? But my experiences with the Instagram writing community have been nothing but great – I participated in Escapril back in April of last year, a yearly event founded by Savannah Brown, that encourages users to write and share a poem a day based on a prompt. It was a really great and fun challenge that helped me write and read more and connect with other poets. I would say participating in these kinds of communities is probably the best way to utilise the platform.

Thank you for that advice! On a similar note, which poets and poems inspire you the most? These could include childhood inspirations… Have your influences changed over the years?

I would not be the person I am nor would I have any interest in poetry if it weren’t for Sylvia Plath. I can’t even pinpoint exactly when I first encountered her work, but I identified with it to an almost unhealthy degree as a teenager, as I’m sure many people have. I still get that feeling whenever I revisit her poetry or read more about her life and art. Also, a lot of spoken word videos from people like Sarah Kay really resonated with me at a young age.

More recently, the closest I’ve gotten to that feeling of being deeply excited and inspired by poetry was when I discovered Savannah Brown’s work a couple of years ago. Her spoken word videos and poetry films really moved me, and her second poetry collection – which came out last year – is absolutely incredible (I wrote about it here). Lately I’ve also been listening to a lot of musicians whose work intersects with poetry, including Cassandra Jenkins and Anika Pyle, whose most recent albums reckon with grief and loss in a really powerful way.

Above: a blackout poem by Konstantinos. The source text is Christopher Gilbert’s poem “Fire Gotten Brighter”. Are there any styles besides blackout which you particularly love, or themes? Are there any topics you gravitate towards?

I’ve always gravitated towards confessional poetry, both in terms of what I tend to write and what I like to read. Something most of the writers I’ve mentioned have in common is that they use intimate language to evoke a deep yearning for connection, in the face of existential dread and the unfathomable vastness of the cosmos. That usually does the trick!

Have any experiences at King’s Poetry Society or King’s in general – events, classes, readings, people you’ve met, or London itself – been particularly memorable, or inspired you? Can you tell us a little about them?

Absolutely. Just being in London, not even necessarily the experiences I had there, made me want to write more poetry than I had in a long time. There’s a Savannah Brown video essay on YouTube where she talks about passing a billion people on the street – obviously in the before times – and being like, “Who are all of you people? Could I care for you? How many of you idiots could I love?” That’s basically the gist of what had been stirring in me for a long time and that I still think about to this day. And then being a part of King’s Poetry Society was an opportunity for me to try and channel that, and engage in an actual physical writing community in a way I never had before. I literally read a poem inspired by that video during one of our poetry reading events – that will certainly stay with me.

Above: Konstantinos’ poem “doors on the underground”. He read this poem at one of the 2019-20 King’s Poetry Society critique sessions.

How important do you think writing communities are, in fostering “better” writing? In your experience, is writing helped by discussion?

I think they’re incredibly important, not just in fostering “better” writing but also fostering a space for vulnerability. Poetry can be an intensely private form of writing, but so much can be gained from discussing it, especially if one is looking to not only hone their craft but also learn from and connect with others. Us writers can be especially introverted people (hi!), and may be discouraged by the long stretches of silence that can pervade a poetry meeting, but there’s power in hearing the words you or someone else has written out loud. Even a single comment can completely change a way you think about a poem.

What do you think the value of reading poetry is? Can a poem profoundly change someone’s life? Conversely, can someone read a poem and be unaffected – and if this happens, has a poet “failed”?

I think Marianne Moore sums it up pretty well in her poem Poetry, where she talks about finding in it “a place for the genuine.” As for the second question, poetry can definitely change someone’s life – not to be corny or anything, but like all art, it can also save someone’s life.

That said, I don’t think a poet has failed if the reader feels emotionally unaffected by their work. Sometimes, a writer may wish to portray an event or theme in a cold and unaffecting manner to get a certain point across. There’s value in that type of poetry, too, and art’s inherent subjectivity means that someone might be moved by a poem that someone else feels indifferent towards. There’s also value in poetry that is private and not meant to be shared, because even if only one person derives something from it, then it is valuable. I do think, however, that the further one strays from that ideal of earnestness, the closer the work hinges on being trivial or pretentious. We’ve moved past the need to be overly cynical or ironic.

I agree, poetry that is never shared is not lesser by any means – I find great personal value in treating a poem like a diary of sorts. Maybe each stanza mimics a different entry... With all that you feel manifesting into this thing that is at once completely attached to your experience but also – if shared – something that becomes detached and open to reinterpretation... That is really powerful. How do you think people who have never written before could be encouraged to start writing for themselves, whether for fun or as catharsis – without the pressures of becoming someone recognised or followed?

I really like that approach! I think the diaristic style of writing is often looked down upon as less legitimate, even though it isn’t. To answer your question, I think normalising the act of writing poetry purely for enjoyment or as a form of catharsis is really important, especially from a young age. Part of that could be achieved by exposing young people to more than what one might call the poetic canon. Being disappointed that a student isn’t engaging with poetry when they’ve only been introduced to Shakespeare is like assuming someone isn’t musically inclined when they’ve only been exposed to a single genre of music. Another way would be to incorporate more writing activities that utilise the poetic form, and allow the freedom to explore it outside the confines of academic study. I’m not saying all teachers should follow the example of Dead Poets Society, but there are so many ways to foster creativity and make poetry more approachable.

Do you think poetry is sometimes perceived as an inaccessible art?

100%. I think that’s the biggest problem with how poetry is perceived. A lot of it comes down to the way poetry has been taught and disseminated for centuries – through a lens that is inherently exclusionary, upheld by systems that are classist, racist, sexist, etc. Hopefully that is starting to change – studies have shown that more and more young people read and write poetry, largely thanks to the rise of social media poetry. Poetry can represent such a wide range of experiences, but for people to view it as an accessible art form, more barriers need to be broken. Amanda Gorman becoming the youngest inaugural poet in American history, and the first Black poet ever to perform at the Super Bowl this year alone is certainly a huge sign of progress.

Do you have a favourite literary journal, or a poetry platform you would like to recommend? What have you been reading lately?

Subscribing to the Poetry Foundation and the Academy of American Poets’ poem-a-day newsletters has been a great way of keeping poetry in my everyday life. Recently, I’ve also been loving a podcast called Poetry Unbound, where each 10-15 minute episode immerses you into a single poem. On YouTube, I love Ours Poetica, a video series curated by poet Paige Lewis in collaboration with the Poetry Foundation that features readings of poems by writers, artists, and actors – including John Green reading Moore’s Poetry and Savannah Brown reading her poem the universe may stop expanding in five billion years. It offers a truly intimate and approachable way of experiencing poetry.

Above: Konstantinos’ poem “lonely little london”.

Is it important to you to read a wide variety of poetry, from different communities and on different subjects? Do you think it’s important for poets to write about things beyond their immediate world?

That’s probably the biggest shift that has happened since I first got into poetry – realising how important it is to read widely. I was mostly drawn to poetry that reflected my own limited experience, but now more than ever I find it vital to immerse myself in different points of view, especially from underrepresented or marginalised groups. I now see poetry less as a means of personal expression than a form of empathy, and because of that I’m able to gain so much more from it. That said, I don’t think it’s necessary for poets to write about things that aren’t part of their immediate world. It depends on one’s goals and ambitions, but there’s already so much that’s unique about a person’s immediate world – things that are reflected in society at large – that being forced to write outside of it can often lead to work that feels hollow and insincere, or even insensitive. That doesn’t mean it has to be limiting – the beauty of poetry is that you can write about your immediate world but not necessarily through it.

Lastly… Do you think a poet is born a poet, or made into one? Which is more important: natural talent, or practice and growth? Can anyone become a poet? If everyone has it in them, do you think anyone who puts their mind to it can produce meaningful work – since, of course, all work is meaningful in one way or another, whether privately or publicly?

This is a slightly tricky question to answer, because either way it could imply that only some are afforded the privilege of becoming poets. If a small percentage of people are born poets, then of course that means everyone else is inherently excluded; if one is made into a poet, then only those who are able to cultivate any artistic inclinations will have the opportunity of fulfilling their potential. Most people will say the truth, as always, is somewhere in the middle, that it’s some complicated combination of the two. But I feel it’s much simpler than that – when you boil it down, really, everyone is born a poet.

#Konstantinos Pappis #interviewer: Karen Ng #Interviews #king's poetry society

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undertaleandyou · 4 years

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can we get dad headcanons for the sanses too??? the papyrus ones were so cute and i cant handle it!!!

Y’all are planning to kill me with these blessed asks. ~ Mod Goblin, who’s weak to Sans

Sans:

Holy crap. Him? A dad? He’s used to being an uncle for Frisk, so how hard can it be?

Further researching shows: He done goofed

He starts to stress out a little after going to classes and realizing what he’s actually in for.

When he holds his baby for the first time, it’s like all that stress never happened.

He did take care of Papyrus after all. He’s a natural at taking care of kids.

Loves to take naps with the kid whenever he can.

Definitely stay at home dad material, but he can work too. (That just means spoiling his kiddo more)

RIP him if they inherent his teleporting magic.

RIP him even more if the kiddo has high energy AND teleporting magic.

Finds out his kid is getting bullied at school? Guess which kid is coming to school with a Gaster Blaster?

Blue:

When you tell him he’s going to be a dad, he practically vibrates with excitement.

HE’S GOING TO BE A PAPA!! YOU HEAR THAT EVERYONE?!?!?! A PAPA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Literally gushes about this to anyone who’ll listening or not.

He’s so excited. He has a list of baby names and even found some of his old childhood toys to give to the kiddo.

Yeah, he’ll worry about being a good dad too, but everyone feels like this!! It’s a new challenge that he’s excited to explore with you.

When he holds his kid for the first time, he has to sit down. It’s like the wind was knocked out of his non-existing lungs. He’s just... So... Wow...

As much as he loves playing with them, he gets so gentle sometimes. Like when he’s reading to his kid or just gently rocking them to sleep.

He’s also going to be one of those parents that just will not stop talking about his kid. He’s just so excited and overjoyed!!!!!

Red:

You... You sure? Like, is the test real or...?

He’s okay with being an uncle, but a dad? A little one to call his own? He’s both scared and even wonders if he even deserves it.

Might have to be alone for a little, but he’ll tell you what is going on so he won’t scare you and he’s taking Edge with him. He just needs to sort out himself first.

He fears he’s going to have to change his entire lifestyle, fearing he HAS to become something he’s just not. Sure, changes will happen, but it’s not he’s going to change entirely.

When he comes back, he’ll have long talks with you. Though expressing his emotions is really hard for him, he knows it’s really, REALLY important this time and tries to tell you about his own fears about this.

Maybe going to parenting classes will help. Or maybe doing some research on his own. He’s still scared out of his damn mind, but he feels like he needs to face it.

When he’s finally able to hold his kid, he still can’t believe it. You can see him shaking, so you tell him to sit down with the tiny bundle.

After a moment, you hear him talking to the little bundle. Telling them everything that’s happened and how he’s been feeling, but Red is still happy that he has all the love and support to help him become better.

RIP his sleep, whether it’s the baby or his own stress-related insomnia.

Catches up on sleep whenever the kiddo naps during the day.

He’s not as bad at this as he thought, but he still makes mistakes. Such as forgetting for a moment that he’s carrying a baby and accidentally hits their head against a cabinet door. or freezer door.

Just get the kiddo a helmet, please?

When the kiddo gets older, Red is at a point where he’s finally comfortable and confident of being a dad.

Loves scaring other parents at parent-teacher meetings.

Wild:

First reaction: pure, unfiltered terror. What if he’s not ready? What if you’re not ready? What if the kid hates him? What if he messes up big time? What if-

Second reaction: Happy tears. Probably cries the most of all the Sanses (Sanss?) during the process and even after.

He’s nervous, but he’s going to try. So going to parent classes and reading on his own helps him some, but he’s really nervous.

Cries so much when he’s holding his baby the first time. Now you’re crying. Now the baby is crying. Now he’s crying that the baby is crying. It’s all a crying mess.

I wouldn’t be surprised if he ends up staying at the hospital until both you and the baby are finally able to go home. Then that’s when he finally crashes.

He tries to follow everything he learned to the T, but when things go out of his territory, he sort of panics.

It takes him a while to learn how his child behaves, what they like, what they don’t like, etc.

Eventually, he’ll stop reading the parenting books and just raise his kid the best he can.

Absolutely cries his Soul out when his kiddo leaves for school for the first time. Please be there with him so he doesn’t try to scoop his kid and take them back home.

It’s not until the kid is a little more older that Wild finally feels confident that he’s doing something right.

Black:

He’s stunned at first, which evolves into something like a mix of excitement and fear. Not so much fear like “oh my God, what if I mess up” (though that thought is still there) he’s mostly concerned with you. Are you going to be okay? Are you sure you really want this? You’re not feeling any pain right now, right?

He has sleepless nights researching and worrying about the delivery. He knows how painful it can be for you and it’ll just tear him apart knowing he can’t really prevent the pain from happening. He’ll have to support you more than ever now and he’s okay with that.

He likes talking about names and future plans with you. Though he’d much rather focus on the present, he knows the future is just as important as well.

When he’s finally able to hold his baby, he gets so gentle and soft with them. He talks to them and it’s probably the only time you’ve heard him use baby talk.

He really didn’t want to let go of his kid when the doctors need to check them out, but he complied.

At home, he’s so fixated on the baby. He’s just so curious about them and wants to learn what goes on in their little mind.

Panics when the baby starts crying and goes down a little checklist to see what it could possibly be.

His kid WILL learn manners, so by the time they’re off to school, they will be the most polite kid in the class.

Wine:

He’s honestly really surprised. At his age, could he still be a good father?

He’s overjoyed, don’t get him wrong, but this means there’s going to be a lot of important discussions.

He can already function with only 4 hours of sleep, so during the time he’s awake, he’s researching, he’s planning ahead, he’s making sure you’re well taken cared of.

Wine is still pretty worried, don’t get him wrong. His age is starting to show and he’s worried that he may not have the patience for a baby.

He was so insulted that people could not believe he was the father and almost had to fight his way to the delivery room so he could see his child.

When he’s finally able to hold them, he has the widest smile. He’s a natural at this. He’s playing with them gently and talking to them in the softest voice...

And you, of course, are so going to be spoiled when you return home.

He hates having to play the “bad cop” when he’s disciplining his child. Or when he makes a parenting mistake, he makes his child their favorite treat as an apology.

If fact, whenever his child is upset, he’s making them their favorite treat as a way to comfort them.

You’ll catch him singing lullabies to his baby, even while they’ve been asleep for a while.

When his child is going to school for the first time, they’re definitely going to be overdressed. First impressions matter~!

Axe:

It’s his? It’s really his? Really??

He’s so overwhelmed with a variety of emotions that he starts crying and hugging you.

He really tries to participate for parenting classes, but he either has trouble remembering what was taught or he gets frustrated when things don’t make sense. But he really is trying and he wants to be a good dad, so he’ll probably be better off learning on his own.

He’ll need a lot of emotional and mental support from you, friends and family. He’ll of course take care of you too, but damn he’s worried sick over this.

He cannot believe how teeny his baby is when he holds them for the first time. And when they grab at his fingers? Here come more tears.

He’s trying so hard to be gentle with them. Going as far as putting packing peanuts at the tips of his claws.

Uncle Crooks is going to visit often, just so he can teach Axe how to cook better.

When his kid goes off to school, he’s so happy for them, until they come back saying how they were bullied for having a monster for a dad. He can show those kids how scary he can be... (he won’t do anything harmful, but loves being the weird and scary cryptid at the school) Hell, he can go as far as becoming the school staff if he really wants to.

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