#the laptop costed money and it came with the laptop

[jeremywasriven]

i call this a doodley sketch

[delulujuls]

i'd give you the whole world if i only knew its price | ls18

am i a lance's girlie? no. am i becoming a lance's girlie? dont look at me

he seems so sweet idk why people hate on him

summary: lance's love language is giving gifts and when it came to giving something in return he'll accept only one way

warnings: none

pairing: fem!bffreader x lance stroll

The little girl sat on the curb, tears streaming down her rosy, tear-stained cheeks. In her tiny hands, she held her shattered helmet, unfit for further use. The girl wasn't crying because her father had scolded her for accidentally damaging the helmet. Instead, it was because, until she could find a replacement, she wouldn't be able to race with the other kids. That is, if there were any funds available for a new one.

Seeing the seven-year-old in tears, a slightly older boy, aware of the reason behind her distress, approached her with his newly purchased helmet in hand, crouching down in front of her.

"Here, you can have mine."

The girl stopped sobbing as he sat beside her, handing her the helmet, which she hesitantly accepted.

"I can't take it, my dad doesn't have any money left."

"You can take it, I always have two helmets with me."

The boy smiled at her, but uncertainty still lingered on her face. He glanced toward his father, who stood under one of the tents, observing the children a few meters away. Seeing the tearful face of the girl and the joyful expression on his son's face, he also smiled slightly and nodded.

"See?" he said, squeezing her hands that held the helmet. "My dad agreed. You can take it as a gift."

"Really?"

While her face was still wet from tears, her eyes no longer radiated sadness. Looking into the brown eyes of the boy, he nodded and he stood up, extending his hand.

"By the way, I'm Lance. Now, come on, it's about to start!"

"Please, Y/N, don't be like that."

The boy slumped onto the hotel bed, closely watching the girl's face on his phone screen.

"I'm sorry, Lance, but I can't."

She replied, her phone propped up against a coffee mug, engrossed in browsing job listings on her laptop.

"Why can't you just take it as a gift?"

Y/N scoffed and shook her head.

"Every month you give me some gift, Lance. Last month, as a 'gift,' you bought me a Birkin bag, and I don't even want to know how much it cost."

"You said your bag was falling apart, I wanted to make you happy."

She sighed and shifted her gaze to her phone. Lance looked at her attentively with his puppy eyes, visibly concerned. He wasn't seeing any problem here.

"The bag is gorgeous, and you have no idea how much joy you brought me," she said with grattitude in her voice. "But even a simple Target bag would make me happy, you know?"

"Yeah, probably. But this one is okay too, right?"

She laughed and shook her head.

"It's beautiful. Thank you very much."

Hearing her words, Lance breathed a sigh of relief. Seeing her smile, he did the same.

"So, if you want to repay me, let me fly you to Bahrain."

She lowered her gaze, and the smile faded from her face. Barely scraping by on bills and struggling to find a new job, spending her remaining money on plane tickets was the last thing on her mind. Even if, it could cover just one ticket.

"I can't afford to visit you, Lance."

"That's why let me take care of it. We haven't seen each other for so long, and I want to finally see you and start this season together," he said, looking at her worried face. Money meant nothing to him; he could send a private jet to pick her up, just to have her with him. "Please, Y/N."

She sighed and shook her head.

"I feel so embarrassed. I'll never be able to repay you for all of this."

"So, is it a yes? Can I book the tickets?"

He asked, hope in his voice, and a smile slowly crept back onto his face.

"Fine, but no more gifts this month, okay?"

"I'll try to meet that condition."

Lance and Y/N had been friends since the day he noticed her crying next to the carting track, holding her damaged helmet. They remained friends through all the years of go-karting, and their friendship persisted even when Y/N had to give up racing due to financial reasons.

At first, though she shudders at the thought even now, she hated Lance with every fiber of her being. It wasn't him she despised, but the obscene amounts of money his father had, providing him with everything he could dream of. Y/N was aware that Lance had both many fans and critics, so every time she came across unfavorable comments about him online, she felt embarrassed. After all, she used to cry and curse him every night, even though deep down, she didn't hate him; she just disliked the situation he was in, which she was not allowed to have.

Lance himself knew that without money, he would never have entered the serious world of motorsport. Numerous training sessions, expensive lessons, academy tests – Lance knew that money secured his current position, but talent couldn't be bought. He knew he could drive, and even the people who hated him online knew it too, disliking him simply because he succeeded. Being in Formula 1 cost the Canadian a lot, as he constantly felt like he didn't belong there. Even in the paddock, despite rarely facing personal comments, he knew many saw him as the boy with his daddy's big money. Lance often felt lonely, so he deeply appreciated every moment he could spend with Y/N. No one was as important to him as she was.

However, Y/N focused on being an ordinary teenager after giving up her motorsport career. She finished high school, got into college, even found a job and rented an apartment. Although her life didn't unfold exactly as she wanted, she stayed connected to motorsport through Lance, whom she supported as much as she could. Now things were getting complicated again as the season was about to begin, meaning she could only cheer for him from her couch. But for Lance, there were no such limitations. If he could solve a problem with money, he would. Furthermore, Lance found immense joy in showering Y/N with various gifts. Giving her presents was his love language, something that Y/N had no clue about.

"There she is."

Lance smiled at the sight of his friend, who stepped out of the taxi in front of one of the Bahrain hotels. She returned the smile, hugging him.

"I was talking about the bag, but it's nice to see you too," he teased, pointing to the Birkin she was holding, prompting her to playfully nudge him. Lance chuckled and embraced her, taking her suitcase and leading her inside the hotel.

"I hope the flight was okay and you're full of energy because we're going to a team dinner tonight."

"So, basically your dad is inviting us to dinner?"

She asked jokingly, looking at him as they entered the elevator.

"Technically, yes, my dad is inviting us to dinner."

Y/N laughed, "Well, Lawrence Stroll can't be refused."

Shortly afterward, they were on the right floor where both of them had their rooms. Lance handed her the key card and when she entered her room, she noticed a bouquet of roses and a small package on the bed.

"Lance..."

Turning around, she saw him biting his lip, trying to hide his smile.

"Yes, yes, I know, we had a deal. But these roses were practically free and the little gift next to it is, let's say, a shared one."

He explained, putting aside her suitcase. She also placed her bag down and approached the bed, picking up the bouquet of white roses. She smelled one and smiled, feeling their pleasant fragrance. Lance smiled too.

"You're impossible, you know that?"

"Open the gift."

He encouraged her, leaning against the wall.

She smelled the flowers once more and put them aside, taking the small package wrapped in black ribbon. As she untied it and unwrapped the light-colored paper, she discovered the familiar shade of green. It was a long, satin dress with thin straps, in the characteristic color of Aston Martin. She smiled to herself.

"I guess this is for tonight's dinner?"

Lance nodded, "Do you like it?"

"It's beautiful," she ran her fingers over the fabric, "I hope you have a shirt in the same color."

He chuckled.

"Don't worry, I won't disappoint you."

Indeed, at the agreed-upon time, Lance showed up at her door, wearing a shirt in the same color, black jeans, and matching shoes. He smiled at the sight of his friend, who opened the door ready to go.

"You look gorgeous. The color suits you."

Y/N laughed and closed the door behind her.

"That's good because otherwise, I would have to wear the white dress I brought with me, and someone might think I'm supporting Haas."

Lance laughed at her words, pleased to spend these few days with his friend. Honestly, he only stopped feeling lonely when she was around or when they had the chance to talk on FaceTime. Of course, it wasn't the same as having her physically by his side.

The evening passed in a pleasant atmosphere and time flowed effortlessly. Lawrence invited everyone who had arrived with Aston Martin to Bahrain, so instead of reserving a specific number of tables, Lance's father rented the entire restaurant for the evening.

Celebrating the team's excellent work during the winter months, the tables were adorned with champagne and white wine. Y/N had forgotten how weak her head could be, so after two glasses of wine during dinner, a slight buzz started to occupy her mind. Apologizing to Lance under the pretext of going to the bathroom, she stepped outside, sitting on the balcony. Despite being February, Bahrain offered pleasant temperatures, and even after the dark, a warm breeze caressed her exposed arms.

"Here you are."

The girl jumped, hearing his voice.

"You weren't around for half an hour, and I had the waitress check if something happened to you in the bathroom."

"I needed some fresh air."

Y/N replied, smiling at him. She noticed Lance's steps were a bit unsteady and a blush adorned his cheeks. When he sat next to her, she giggled.

"I can't believe we got tipsy."

Lance chuckled and rubbed his face with his hands.

"I won't lie, I'm feeling a bit dizzy."

Still giggling, the girl rested her head on his shoulder. Lance wrapped his arm around her waist and rested his cheek on her head.

"I'm glad you came."

"I'm glad you invited me."

"I'd give you the whole world if I only knew its price."

Hearing his words, Y/N raised her head and looked at his face. His brown, gentle eyes gazed at her affectionately and a faint smile played on the corners of his lips. Lance tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, gently caressing her cheek with his thumb.

"I hate that I can't give you anything in return."

Lance smiled, "Actually, there's something you could give me in return."

The girl raised her eyebrows inquisitively.

"You could be my girlfriend."

Y/N blinked several times, unsure if her slightly intoxicated mind was playing tricks on her or if she understood Lance correctly.

"Do you want me to be your girlfriend?"

"Oh, God, you have no idea how much."

The girl smiled and, without saying a word, cupped his cheeks in her hands and kissed him. Lance hugged her even tighter, returning the kiss, feeling a burst of fireworks in his stomach. He could bring her joy with money, and she could do it in just one way.

"I love you, Lance."

With love.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Am I the asshole for refusing to help my friend out financially after they got a new dog even though they need financial help often and are currently in debt?

Everyone is this story is mid to late 20s.

I have a friend in America who is on social benefits. So I know they don't have a lot of money. I'm also not rich but I earn minimum wage in my country and can afford to pitch in a little sometimes which I don't mind doing generally. I'm also not a big spender at all and I'm able to save up something every month.

In the past I've helped them with buying groceries and even gave them some so they could buy a laptop for art commissions and some games. I don't mind doing that at all. When their old dog got sick I helped out as well. Since I figure some people are going to want to know, in the last 5 years I have given maybe about 2000 dollars.

They got a new dog after the old one passed, which I get. A dog can be a good companion. I did find it a little irresponsible to get a new puppy when they at the time needed several hundred dollars for rent. I told them it might be better to wait until they where no longer in debt with their landlord before getting a new dog. They told me they understood my concern but they got the puppy for free from a friend so it would not be a big deal and they would be able to feed the puppy.

I did tell them puppies can get sick and end up costing a lot more than anticipated but they told me they were willing to take that risk and I decided to not push any further. I had given my opinion and there is not much else I can do. I did tell them not to count on my help financially especially since I had some things of my own that needed fixing and they told me they understood and not to worry.

But then a few weeks later the puppy ate their medicinal weed, which for some reason was within reach of a puppy, and had to get it's stomach pumped and stay overnight at the vet clinic for a few nights.

They came to me and asked if I could help out with the bill and how they would pay me back in part. The bill was over 4000 dollars. I told them sorry but no I can't. First of all, I don't even have that much, I'd have to take out a loan. Second, I warned them this could happen and that I would not be able to help out financially. They seemed a little pissed at that but I just thought it was because of the stress of the situation. They said they would try and get the funds elsewhere and asked me to share it around, which I did.

Unfortunately they didn't manage to get enough to pay the vet and ended up having to give the puppy to a shelter. It's a cute and calm pup so I have no doubt it will be adopted out quickly but it's still sad and I do feel for my friend. But now I'm being blamed for it. I've been getting several angry messages from mutual friends about how I'm the reason my friend lost their emotional support and how I'm the reason they are having a breakdown and suicidal thoughts.

I feel really badly for my friend but I also don't think it's fair to put the blame on me. The reaction from my online friend group makes me feel like I'm missing something that does make me the asshole.

[miloformula123fan]

Hi! i wanted to request lando x fem!reader where dhe studies in the US and is dating lando and talks about him all the time but all of her friends thinks she is joking because she has no proof (she cant post anything yet because lando hasnt said anything abt a gf to the public). and y/n crys to lando because no matter how much convincing she does they think shes just messing with them. (she literally drives his spare mclaren and they still dont beleive her.) so lando decides to suprise her in class and then posts her on insta and all of her friends feel really bad

woohoo!

Please keep requesting - y'all have awesome ideas we agree on a lot of stuff :) - my guidelines are here, and if you want some prompts, they are here.

also feel free to come in and start chatting to me in my asks, would love to get to know y'all better

this was so much fun to write haha :)

lando norris x reader

---

Y/N picks up her laptop and some pens with her notebook. She’s got another study date with her friends. She likes them, sure she does, but sometimes they get a little irritating. 

For one, they don’t believe that her boyfriend is THE Lando Norris. They think she’s either got some unemployed schmuck who she is afraid to tell them about due to his poorness (the stuck up snobs) or they think she’s got some old sugar daddy that she doesn’t want them to meet because he’s so old.

So Y/N is taking less than ideal measures. Like today. Lando recently acquired a new McLaren from his work, some customised Spider that came out a couple of years ago. So now that he has his new car, he shipped his old one out to America, so Y/N would have something nice to drive around. His old McLaren GT, not necessarily old, it still cost about $210k, but not Lando’s current favourite, so Y/N could drive it around a bit.

And drive it, she would. Maybe this would finally convince her friends. Once and for all, that Lando Norris was interested in her and was dating her. She grabbed the keys off the table, double checked she had everything and then got into the car, driving the 10 minutes to the coffee shop.

Okay, maybe pulling up outside a coffee shop entirely inhabited by uni students in a custom McLaren wasn’t the best idea, but it was the best one she had. She got out of the car, locking it and headed in, almost immediately spotting her friends.

“Hello! I’ll just grab a coffee and then we can get to it!” She smiled at them, but she could see their faces

“How about you get us all a coffee with your sugar daddy money, Y/N.”

Y/N put her head down and ordered a hot chocolate and a cookie before returning to the table.

“So, how’s Lucas, Gabrielle?”

“Oh come on, no one wants to hear about my boyfriend, Y/N, we all just want to hear about your sugar daddy.”

“As I’ve told you before, I do not have a sugar daddy. I have Lando, who is my boyfriend, not my sugar daddy. And he is good, excited for the Las Vegas Grand Prix, and then excited to be coming home at the end of the season.”

“Yeah right, just cause you’re sending nudes to some old guy, doesn’t mean you can’t tell your best friends… come on, cut the charade Y/N.”

“I-” YN could feel tears welling up in her eyes, so she grabbed her stuff, and her hot chocolate before getting into the McLaren and driving off. 

Thank god it was only a 5 minute drive, else Y/N may not have made it back due to the tears welling up in her eyes. Maybe if she had, she would’ve seen the other McLaren in the driveway, but instead she walked into the house and locked herself in the bathroom, sitting down and beginning to cry.

Lando outside quickly froze. He honestly had no idea what to do. He was planning on surprising his girlfriend when she got home from her study date with her friends, but she arrived 2 minutes after he got home and had immediately walked into the bathroom without even saying hello. Leaning against the door, Lando could hear shaky breaths and sobs through the door, as he leaned his whole weight onto it, he quickly realised that she had not in fact locked the door, as he fell through it, landing on the cold tile floor.

The sobs stopped, as the hiccups continued. “L-lando, are you, okay? Wait, hang on, what are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be in the factory in England?” The confusion in her voice was evident.

“Yeah, well I had some spare time, and I decided to come over, and the door wasn’t locked properly, but what happened? Why are you in here crying pretty girl?”

“It’s nothing, I promise, just me getting upset over nothing.”

“It’s clearly not nothing darling when you’re sitting here on the bathroom crying, huh?”

“Just… well, people don’t think we’re dating. They think I’m lying about it to try and cover for some 80 year old sugar daddy, and they think i’m being delusional.”

“Why, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Didn’t want to worry you…”

“You’re my girlfriend, Y/N of course I worry about you. Let’s forget about your shitty friends, and let’s go get a takeout dinner and a movie.”

“Love Actually?”

“Yes, if you want.”

---

Y/N dashed into the classroom, running slightly late as she sat down, and pulled open her laptop. Cursing herself for oversleeping, and not having the time to grab a coffee on the way, she sat down and began to take notes.

Halfway through the lecture, Y/N heard the door at the back of the room open again. ‘Well at least I’m not the last one.’ She heard whispers and gasps and tried to focus on the lecture until she felt a presence standing next to her and looked up into her boyfriend’s brown eyes.

In his hands was a starbucks cup, a classic ice chocolate based on the label on the cup. Lando placed the cup on the table, before pressing a kiss to Y/N’s head and half jogging out of the room to avoid the fangirls.

Y/N could feel the judgemental looks at the back of her head, but all she could do was smile.

Lando Norris 

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Lando.norris love you baby 🙂

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[chimkin-samich]

Hey y’all, a situation came up and we’re still low on funds for a laptop repair, we had the money for the first initial cost but we got a call earlier that it’s going to be double the price and we already scrambled to find the first estimated price, we didn’t want to ask but don’t know how else to come up with the money since comms are closed due to hectic schedules

If any of you guys can donate or at the very least share it would be very much appreciated any little bit helps since this laptop is used for ferals work, thank you in advance for those of you who share or donate

[thefallennightmare]

Noah Sebastian

One Night: One night. That's what Noah and Reader agreed to. No questions, no second thoughts, and no regrets. But will one night be enough to fill the hunger they both craved?[COMPLETE]

Miracle: Reader is the merch girl for Bad Omens. It wasn't what she wanted to do with her life but when her mother got sick with Alzheimer's, reader took a job where she could to help with the costs. She thought it would be a one-time gig but the longer she was on the road with them, the harder she fell for Noah Sebastian; even if he wanted nothing to do with her. She needed a miracle to save her mom and her future.[COMPLETE]

Just Pretend- “I can wait for years, heaven knows I’m not getting over you.”

A story about two star-crossed lovers, that always find their way back because their souls are entwined. The universe desperately attempts to bring them together, no matter what the cost.[IN PROGRESS]

Mercy[FALLEN ANGEL AU]-"Blinded by a fear of feeling, these are the kings we chose. Lost and looking for the meaning, I've been searching high and low" It came crashing down on him. This is the story of the highest banished angel from where she came only to find home in the arms of a mortal man. This mortal realizing he'd face Lucifer himself to keep her. Lethia: Archangelus Oneironaut also known as Archangel of Dream Walking. Across worlds and dimensions, she walks within. Uncovering dangerous secrets, leaving her cast out, isolated- that is until she begins to learn what it means to feel.[IN PROGRESS]

The Coyotes Cry-[MafiaBoss!TattooArtist! Noah Sebastian] Centered on the story of a young bride whose fairy-tale vision of the Concrete Jungle is shattered when her father, part of the Irish Crime Family; McManus strikes a marital peace deal with the mafia head of OMNS, Noah Sebastian. Scarlett is faced with rage and conflict, as she is forced to work alongside her new husband in his tattoo shop that fronts for his mafia dealings. Devastating events leave Scarlett with the realization that there is more to Noah than meets the eye. "I would willingly, lay down my life for you if I had to." The power of love is thicker than blood.[IN PROGRESS]

Let Me Be Yours- Reader was in an abusive relationship, and she ended up pushing away the one guy who never did her wrong. Noah refused to let her feel as if she wasn't worthy of love; especially when he had so much to give her.[ONE SHOT]

Bad Decisions- Noah realizes a little too late that he has a breeding kink.[DRABBLE]

Comfort- Reader suffers from really bad period cramps and Noah takes care of her the only way he knows how.[DRABBLE]

PAGE ONE

PAGE TWO

What It Cost- The darkness was all Reader ever knew and now that it was following her, closing in to devour her, she needed to chance to breathe. With one destination in mind, she set out only to stop when she noticed an attractive stranger on the side of the road; his own darkness making her give him a ride to where he needed to go. Both of them were desperate for something else but neither of them could change and it nearly cost them everything.

Caged In: Noah feels himself falling deeper into the darkness and only one person can pull him out.

Just For Tonight: Nicholas had been teasing you all night so to make up for it, he gives you something you secretly always wanted; just for tonight. And that something is Noah. PART ONE | PART TWO

Braids-Reader braiding Noah's hair during a movie marathon.

Eternally Grateful[Miracle Universe]- Reader refused to take the laptop Noah bought for her after she specifically asked him to stop spending his money on her. That was until he wore her down with his tongue.

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 12, Unlucky - Pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language,

Word Count: 935

Previously On...: It's finally time to present your Crisis Prediction Algorithm to the Stark Industries' Board of Directors! EEP!

A/N: Another short part, but I'll be honest and tell you that this one has my all-time favorite Pocket/Tony interaction in it, so it was *so* much fun to write! I just love the dynamic between the two of them. And for a little Good News/Bad News: Bad News-- I'm heading off to New Orleans in a few hours Spring Break (like, I have to leave my house at 2:30am, it's godawful), so I'm not going to be very active on here for several days, and I'm not bringing my laptop (which is how I prefer to Tumblr, tbh). The Good News? I'm setting up scheduled updates so you'll keep getting your Unwanted segments in a timely fashion! I just won't be very interactive during that time period to update chapter links; you'll just have to find parts by navigating my feed. Sorry! I'll make it all better when I come home; promise.

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @jmeelee @cazellen @blackhawkfanatic @les-sel @marcswife21 @buckybarnessimpp @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @erelierraceala @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @jupiter-107 @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @sashaisready @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @doublejeon @pattiemac1

To your absolute delight, and no surprise to Bucky, the presentation went off without a hitch. The board was impressed with the level of detail you’d put into your work, and the extensive data you had to show from your months of trials. You’d managed to succinctly answer every question they brought up concerning protecting civilian privacy, system security, and cost/benefit analysis to their satisfaction. 

When the time came for the board to vote, you held your breath, squeezing Bucky’s hand under the table as each member called out their ‘yay’ or ‘nay.’ When it was all said and done, the overwhelming majority had voted for Stark Industries to fund the implementation of the crisis prediction algorithm system, tentatively now called C-PAS, with the only votes against being concerned about cost, and not the benefits or merits of it. You couldn’t have been happier.

In celebration, Tony and Pepper took you and Bucky out to dinner at one of the most exclusive rooftop restaurants in the city. Now, as the Stark Industries’ CTO, you were definitely not hard up for money, by any stretch of the imagination, but the atmosphere around you was beyond anything you’d normally immerse yourself in.

“Here’s to our girl!” Tony exclaimed, raising a glass of 1998 Rosé Dom Pérignon. You blushed as Bucky and Pepper raised their glasses in your honor before you all took a sip. “I’m so proud of you, Pocket. I couldn’t be prouder if I had done it myself, so you know that’s saying something.”

You laughed at that. “Thank you, Boss,” you said, raising your glass to him. “That is truly a rare compliment, coming from you.”

“Don’t mention it, kiddo. Can’t think of a single person more deserving of the success than you.”

You ducked your face, trying to hide the flush of pride and embarrassment that was now coloring your cheeks. No matter your accomplishments, you would never become accustomed to being acknowledged for doing something well.

Bucky grabbed your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze before bringing it to his lips. “He’s right, sweets. You’ve worked so hard for this, and you deserve to be celebrated for it. Not that often Stark and I can whole-heartedly agree on something, but we’re of like minds on that.”

 You hid your face in your hands as Tony smirked at Bucky and raised his glass in salute.

“Boys,” Pepper interjected with a soft laugh, “while I completely agree with your shared assessment, you’re going to kill Pocket from embarrassment.”

“Thank you, Pep,” you murmured through your fingers.

“Alright, alright,” Tony said with a laugh, “subject change. So Barnes, when are you going to make an honest woman of our girl and weirdly become my brother-in-law? Huh– there’s a phrase I never expected to utter.”

You nearly choked on the piece of bread you’d been nibbling on as Bucky began spluttering on his mouthful of champagne. You cleared your throat and put a reassuring hand on Bucky’s knee. “If that becomes a topic that needs to be discussed, Tony, you will definitely be one of the first handful of people to know.”

“The first handful?” Tony cried, face affronted. “I should be number two, at least!”

“Number two?!” you asked him incredulously. “Come on, you egomaniac! How the fuck do you figure that?”

“Easy,” Tony said, leaning over the table toward you. “Barnes knows first because he decides he wants to marry you for some reason known only to him and his maker, he asks me for my blessing, and then you can find out after. So, number two! Come to think of it, you’ll probably be fifth to know, because I’m sure he’ll tell Capsicle after me, and of course I’ll tell Pepper, so it’s actually you in the first handful, not me.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Oh really?” you asked, and he nodded, smirking at you. “Well, in that case, what number is Pep going to be when you decide to get your ass in gear and make an honest woman out of her? No offense, Pep,” you added quickly.

“None taken, honey, but are you both positive you’re not actually siblings?” Pepper laughed.

You and Tony both snorted, rolled your eyes, and muttered “He/She wishes” at the same time, which caused your entire table to laugh, breaking any tension that might have remained following Tony’s mention of a possible engagement.

From there, the conversation flowed to much less loaded topics, and soon your third course dishes were being cleared. You were feeling slightly buzzed from the champagne and were devilishly seeing how far you could push Bucky by tracing your hand along his upper thigh when Tony’s phone rang.

“Tony,” Pepper chastised as he pulled out the device to look at the screen. “I thought we agreed on no calls during couple’s time?”

You quickly shot Bucky a teasing look as if to say “see?”

“Sorry, honey, but it’s the emergencies-only line.” He put the phone to his ear. “Talk to me, Banner. … When did they get in? … WHAT?! … How? … Is he…? … No, I got it. We’re on our way.” Tony stood up abruptly from the table, ending the call.

“Tony, what–” Pepper began, but Tony put his hand on her arm, pulling her up and cutting her off. 

“Wilson, Carthage, and Rhodes just landed from the Malaysia mission,” he began, his face stone serious. It was a look you hated seeing on his face, because it meant something was horribly wrong. “Rhodey’s been hurt. It’s bad. We need to get home. Now.”

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[hotchswifey]

professor hotchner - aaron hotchner x reader smut

(okay, i wrote this 2 years ago, it's on my ao3 (same username), no judgements pls, i cba to rewrite it better or even reread it- i have spell-checked it!

warnings: smut, oral (f rec and m rec), fingering

word count: 5180)

---------------------------------------

You walked into your criminal psychology class. Alternatively, you walked into the course with the hot professor. 

You had initially taken the class out of pure interest, planning to take one or two classes (to get a gist of what “criminal psychology” was really about) and then swap it out for something more like your major- but then you saw him. Professor Aaron Hotchner. The unreasonably attractive professor- the man you had fantasised about for the last four months

- sat at the back of the lecture hall. Not that you had initially; you had sat near the front. The closer to the attractive professor, the better, right? Wrong. You weren’t being precisely subtle about your attraction (then again, neither was anybody else), but you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. At least you had the decorum to move to the back. Every else? Not so much.

You got out your textbook (the heaviest textbook you had) alongside your notepad and a pen as he walked into the room. The way he walked, alongside everything else he did, oozed confidence. He stopped at his desk, set his briefcase down on the desk, took out his laptop and set the suitcase beside the desk.

As he set up the projector, you stared at him. His attire was impeccable. A tailored black suit with a perfectly-tied tie and a Rolex on his right wrist. He looked expensive- he was expensive. You were sure that Rolex cost more money than you had ever owned in your entire life.

He started talking, and you could feel the wet patch growing in your panties. It was bad. he was talking about serial murderers and rapists, yet here you were… there had to be something wrong with you.

You weren’t listening to the lecture. You should have been, really. You didn’t want to fail this class. And you were going to with your most recent grade.

“and that will be all, thank you.”

where had the time gone? the lecture was an hour and a half…

whilst putting your textbook, notepad and pen back into your bookbag. Professor Hotchner called your name, causing your head to fly up.

“May I see you in my office?”

shit.

You must have looked like a deer stuck in headlights, you thought. Other students were snickering as they passed your seat at the back. You were in trouble. That was the only explanation. What had you done? There was nothing besides getting a c- on your latest test.

Was this about the c-?

You nodded your head shyly, your heart already speeding up. Shit. Shit. Shit. What were you going to do? You were going to have to go to his office. Alone. With your hot professor whom you had been harbouring quite the crush on.

It wasn’t just that he was hot (although that did play a significant part); it was also his demeanour. he was… mature. More mature than the boys at the university. He was in control of the room. Whichever room he was in, he was in control. He always stood with such dominance. One look directed towards someone, and they immediately shut up.

But he was also caring. You saw that when his son came to visit sometimes. That was partly why you moved to the back at first. A woman, who you presumed to be his girlfriend or wife (though he wore no ring), came in with a young boy. However, other students were too curious and asked him who she was. His Ex-wife’s sister was a babysitter for him and his son.

He was caring but in control. He was a perfect balance. he was-

Professor Hotchner’s voice was louder this time as he said your name, cutting off your thoughts. You immediately looked at him, your head flying up, grabbing your packed book bag and moving towards his office, directly connected to the lecture hall. You passed him with your head tilted downwards, a blush already spreading across your cheeks and neck even though you couldn’t see him. And because you couldn’t see him, you didn’t see the smirk inhibiting his face.

You stopped just behind the two chairs in front of his desk and heard him close the door. Looking around his office, you noticed it probably looked like every other professor’s office- but it was different. It was his. A few papers stacked up (the one on top marked with a large red “c+”), books on bookshelves with many placed lazily in front of them. A picture of his son and himself on the desk- cute. There was also a navy blue couch between two overflowing bookshelves.

“Please, sit down,” his voice was calm as he walked towards the desk, holding an outstretched hand as a gesture. You did as he asked, removing the bookbag from your shoulder and onto the floor next to the chair where you sat. He had removed his suit jacket, hanging it on the back of the door, causing a deeper blush to cover your face- damn, he looks good- and sat down in his brown leather office chair.

“do you know why you’re here?” yes. Wait, no. It couldn’t have been the c-. he was a harsh marker, and more or less everybody else had failed. In fact, you had gotten one of the highest marks in the class, if not the highest. It didn’t make sense. Professor Hotchner sighed. Is he disappointed?

“you seem to be… distracted in my class,” he started, your eyes moving quickly from the frame to him before moving away even faster; his brown eyes were full of concern, his fingers laced together as he leaned his elbows against the cherry wood desk. “I know you are capable of higher grades. I wondered if something was bothering you.” you looked back at him. His eyes were soft- he was actually concerned. And he believed you could get a higher grade. he actually thought you could-

you cleared your throat, unwilling to let his words, words he had just thrown casually into conversation, consume your thoughts. “nothing, it’s- um, nothing,” you looked away from his brown eyes before you drowned in them. It was stupid, really. You couldn’t even look your professor in the eye. Your professor.

“If there is anything, my office is always open until 7 pm,” he smiled at you. Tall, brooding Professor Hotchner smiled at you. You felt compelled to tell him. Tell him that he has been distracting you. Tell him you hadn’t been listening to a word he had been saying and that c- was pure luck. Tell him that he was the one you fantasised about at night. Every night for the last four months.

“actually-” you cut yourself off before you could continue. Shit.

“actually?” he asked, tilting his head to get you to look him in the eye. God, why did I say anything?!

“um- nothing. Um- the-thank you for, err- for this,” you grabbed your bag, standing up, hoping to whichever deity was out there that you could escape the office without further questioning. No such luck. The gods were not on your side today. Professor Hotchner said your name again, standing up, towering over you with his stature. Gods.

“Is there any way I can make up the grade?” you asked, looking at him properly for the first time since you entered the office. Gods. He was more handsome this close. Alone in his office with him standing before you, concerned about your wellbeing- he had become more attractive to you. Something you had thought was impossible.

Why did I say that?!

“I’m afraid not. If you do better on your next paper, it could bring up your final grade,” he looked sorry. Genuinely sorry. It was nice. It was attractive. He clearly cared for you for his students.

“Are you sure, professor?” gods. Was I actually going to go through with this? You batted your eyelashes up at him, looking at him as innocently as possible. He sucked in a sharp breath. Bingo.

“I’m sorry, but-”

“Professor,” you cut him off, “I’m sure there’s something I can do,” you smiled at him, tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. he looked at you, his brows furrowed and mouth set in a straight line like he was debating whether or not to take you up on what you were implying,

suddenly, he walked- or instead marched- towards the office door, locking it and closing the blinds on the window next to the door. He didn’t turn back around, instead of leaning his hand against the lock whilst the other twitched at his side.

“Need I remind you that what your proposing is against university policy? I could lose my job-”

“And I could lose my scholarship,” you said quickly. You knew the risks. You knew all about it. The moment you returned to your dorm after his class, you and your friends immediately looked up the dating policy at the university. They had giggled at you for acting like some kind of schoolgirl with a crush- it had been a fun night.

He turned back around at that, his fingers still twitching. He was debating it. Seriously debating it. You stared at each other for about a minute and had never felt your heartbeat so fast. This could be it. This could be the moment you get to sleep with your hot professor- a man you definitely knew wasn’t going to be like the college boys you had had thus far- or this could be the moment when he kicked you out of his class for inappropriate behaviour, or worse, the university.

He walked towards you, stopping in front of you, looking down at you with parted lips.

“This isn’t a good idea,” he whispered, moving his large hands to cup your cheeks, rubbing his thumb against your left cheekbone, as his eyes darted over your face- your lips, jawline, and eyes.

“I know,” you whispered back, your hands moving around his neck. You leaned up to kiss him. His kiss was- well, it was Professor Aaron Hotchner. It was gentle and sweet, but you could tell he was in control. It was subtle.

It wasn’t like he was shoving his tongue down your throat, something those college boys thought was a great display of dominance- it was subtle. He gently nipped at your lower lip, causing you to giggle and him, in response, to smile against your lips. One of his hands wound around the back of your head, pressing your lips more firmly against his.

He slowly walked you backwards until the back of your shins hit the couch, gently lowering you onto it. He was positioned between your legs, supporting himself with one hand against the cushioned crest rail. He pulled away from your lips and looked down at you as you panted.

“hi…” you whispered, out of breath. His lips quirked up, his hand adjusting to support himself better.

“hello…” his voice, deeper than usual, trailed off as he dipped his head back down to your lips, kissing them shortly before moving down to your jawline; his other hand pulled your shirt over your head. You threw it beside the couch or roughly beside the sofa. Your fingers scratched the back of his head, your other hand moving lazily up and down his waist.

His mouth was hot against your flushed flesh. He started to pepper kisses along your neck, sliding onto his knees whilst still kissing your neck.

His surprisingly smooth hands ran up, and down your jean-clad shins- gods, you regretted not wearing a skirt today. His hands gradually made their way higher until they met your lower thighs. You moved your hands to run through his soft dark hair.

One of his hands dug into the couch to cup your ass as his other hand unbuttoned your high-waisted trousers. Moaning as he squeezed your ass, you removed your shirt, pulling it above your head before throwing it beside the comfortable couch. Having left his hair, your hands went to help professor hotchner unbutton your jeans. How many buttons do these jeans bloody need?!

When you both unbuttoned them, his hand under your ass pushed you up slightly, allowing him to pull them down his legs. Your movements were impatient as you helped him remove them. God, you wanted him.

He pulled them clean off your legs just after you slipped off your flats, throwing your jeans and shoes roughly to where you had thrown your shirt, leaving you in just your panties and bra. Which were not matching. Damn.

Not that he cared anyway. You- his attractive and cute student- was naked on his couch; he couldn’t care less.

His hands continued their previous ministrations, rubbing up and down your thighs, occasionally squeezing your upper inner thigh. His lips soon joined them- as did your moans. His mouth made its way up from your thighs, alternating between them until he met your panties.

He knew this was wrong. he knew it was wrong since the moment he invited you into his office. he knew he was setting himself up for failure.

But he couldn’t care less.

Plus, he was enjoying seeing the wet patch in your panties.

He pressed a kiss against your clit, causing a soft moan to leave your lips as you lift your hips slightly, encouraging him.

“pretty girl…” professor hotchner’s voice was more husky than usual. More attractive than usual. How that was possible, you hadn’t a clue. You whimpered at his words, revelling in the praise.

He moved your pretty panties to the side with two thick fingers; he paused for a second, taking you in. he was right- you were pretty. You lifted your head, looking at him and staring at you. No other sight had ever been so heavenly. You dropped your head back as you tightened around nothing and groaned. 

He pressed another kiss to your clit- your bare clit this time, causing your hips to buck involuntarily, not expecting the sudden touch.

“sensitive, are we?” his words were sensual, causing you to get wetter than you already were. You let out a quick, ‘mm, hmm’ in a whimper, lifting your hips to entice him to touch you more.

You reached behind yourself, slightly arching your back, to remove your bra as he licked a line from your opening to your clit. You unhooked your bra and let out a loud moan, your back arching even further. One of your hands moved to your professor’s hair, lightly gripping it, causing him to groan. The vibrations from his vocalisation contribute to your growing orgasm.

His tongue circled your clit, his hands spreading your thighs even more. He started to pull your panties off of you, your hips lifting on instinct, and threw them vaguely where the rest of your clothes were. He lifted one of your thighs onto his shoulder to open you up for him even further, and your heel dug into his shoulder blade as his movements became too much pleasure for you.

You looked down at him again. Gods. His hair was tousled from where you had run your fingers through it, his coffee eyes meeting yours, and you felt him smirk against you. You tightened around nothing once again as your head fell back against the navy settee, groaning loudly.

His previous circling had turned to suckling. Your “light gripping” had turned into tight fistfuls of hair. You quickly let go, gripping the seat in fistfuls of blue instead. Your moans, whimpers, and whines echoed off the walls, and his smirk grew, once again, against you.

Just as you started to tighten around nothing again, two of his colossal fingers began to tease your entrance. And your hand flew to his teasing one, gripping his wrist. Your fingers didn’t even encircle his wrist.

Earlier on your thigh, his other hand grazed your body to your breast before kneading it. Your moans grew in volume and frequency as your other hand gripped his other wrist.

His teasing casually moved onto, gently fingering you with his middle finger. His movements were soft, quickly finding your special spot and caressing it. His movements were perfect- he knew what he was doing. God, did he know what he was doing.

He added another finger, curling them into you, pinching your nipple simultaneously, causing your hips to buck again- your mewling becoming louder with your orgasm rapidly approaching. The hand squeezing your breast moved to your lower stomach, holding you down. fuck, he’s strong.

“oh? Right there, hmm?” he was mocking you. By the fucking gods, it was attractive. He had pulled away from your clit slightly, his words causing his lips to graze against your nerve endings.

“Oh, god. Please, professor,” you were past the point of caring about anything other than your professor, his tongue and his fingers.

Professor Hotchner added another finger, stretching your tight little hole for him, causing your grip on his wrists to tighten. He smiled against your clit, still sucking on it when he noticed your reaction. His fingers continued prodding against your spongy flesh, and he had begun quietly humming around your clit, causing vibrations to spread through your core.

“I’m gonna-” You cut yourself off with a gasp, hands leaving his wrists to grip at the cushion, then moving back to his wrists as you flailed to grab onto something to ground yourself, his actions too much to handle.

Combining your impending orgasm with his humming, suckling, and prodding, you swore you would implode.

“gonna cum?” your professor asked. He was mocking you again. You knew he was because he knew you were about to cum. And you knew that he knew that you knew. Maybe that shouldn’t have turned you on as much as it did.

When he spoke, he pulled away slightly to get his words out, causing a high whine to leave your lips as you attempted to lift your hips to meet his mouth again. His hand on your stomach held you down, and he had begun to rub his thumb and forth over your pelvic bone. He chuckled loudly at your neediness.

“you gonna be a good girl for your professor and cum?” fuck. fuck. fuck. His words caused your hips to buck (or at least to attempt to, anyway) and multiple curse words to leave your mouth as you took in all the stimulation he provided. After his words, he immediately started sucking and humming at your clit, once more.

His words tipped you over the edge into your bliss. It was the best orgasm you had ever had in your entire life. Maybe it was because it was Professor Hotchner; perhaps it was because you hadn’t had sex in four months since you first joined his class.

Your fingers gripped the couch to the point where you were sure it was going to leave a permanent mark. And your heel dug into his back harder, your thighs shaking and the one on his shoulder going to close around his head.

He didn’t let up his movements, continuing at the same rhythm- he knew what he was doing.

You didn’t know how long you were seeing stars, but you knew it felt like a good eternity.

When you finally came down, he slowed his movements slightly to bring you down gently.

“Jesus fucking Christ, professor,” you gasped out, your panting- instead of your moans- filling the room, along with his slight laughter. His hand had stopped fingering you instead of rubbing up and down your thighs.

“mmm, that good then?” he mumbled against your skin, kissing your body as he moved up it, his hands rubbing the underside of the thigh still on his shoulder. 

“shut up,” you reply, still out of breath as his lips meet your collarbone. You hadn’t realised until now that not only did he look expensive, but he also smelt it. You presumed it had to be Gucci- it would match his tie. 

You looked down at him, starting to rake your hands through his soft hair, noticing he was beginning to form a hickey on your clavicle. fuck. If this was all you had to remember this by, you sure as hell weren’t complaining.

Looking down at him, you noticed how much he was tenting his slacks. he looked big already. Your hands left his hair to fumble at his slacks- your post-orgasm bliss making your hands shake too much to unbutton them, never mind unzip them. 

Professor Hotchner had made his way to your plump lips, smiling and giggling- you never thought you would hear your professor giggle. He came to your aid, unbuttoning and unzipping them before you pushed them down to his knees and underwear. You didn’t get enough time to look at him.

“shut up,” you mumbled again. Whilst doing this, he hadn’t left your lips not once, moving his lips against yours- they just seemed to fit together like a jigsaw puzzle. Though you could probably bring that up to his skill.

“Now, now,” he started, barely pulling away from you, “I don’t think you want that,” of course, you didn’t want that. Nobody in your position could ever want that. His voice was partly what was getting you off. What you did want to do was… 

You pushed him off you, sitting up and taking him by the hand. You moved you two until he was standing against the couch, and you were where he previously was. His eyes roamed over you, and you blushed heavily, suddenly feeling under scrutiny. Despite your warm flush, you realised the room was colder than ever as you stood without clothes.

“cold?” he asked quietly. He looked like he was ready to go turn on the heating. 

“sit down,” you demanded quickly- you didn’t care that it was cold, and you swore to the gods that if he was going to turn on the heating and stop this, for even thirty seconds, you would cry.

He sat down with his legs slightly spread as you slowly sank to your knees. His hand immediately approaches your cheeks to rub his thumbs back and forth over your cheekbone. You finally looked at him and pushed his black trousers down to his ankles. fuck. You had expected him to be big (look at him), but this was. Wow.

You moved his thighs apart even more with small hands as he wound one hand into your hair and the other to trace your jawline. You looked up at him- he had been reticent. He was smiling down at you. It was strange, actually. Not the whole situation (although that was strange)-the adoration in his eyes was weird. But definitely not in the wrong way.

You brought your view back to his cock, eyeing it. He was huge. And really pretty. Everything about him was pretty. At the base, he had black hair, slightly curly but definitely groomed. His head was angry-looking and leaking- Jesus fucking Christ, was he really this turned on just by eating you out?

You touched your lips to kiss the tip, causing Professor Hotchner to bring his hands to your hair while groaning. You decided you wanted to hear more of that, taking the entire tip into your mouth, lightly sucking. 

His grip on your hair got tighter as his moans got louder, his hips starting to buck much like yours- you would have tried to hold them down like he had done to you, but you knew your efforts would be futile, him being much bigger than you. he tasted salty- good, but salty- as you lapped up the precum. 

His grip on your hair pushed you down to take more of him. You followed his silent command, hollowing your cheeks to make sure you didn’t accidentally scrape your teeth against him- he had just made gave you the best orgasm of your life, and you certainly didn’t want to provide him with the worst blow job of his life after that.

You took as much as you comfortably could, your other hands moving up and down the rest of his shaft; your mouth didn’t cover- the other one starting to play with his balls. Strings of curse words and pet names were leaving his lips as he began to put your hair in a makeshift ponytail.

“shit, sweetheart-” he bucked his hips harshly, forcing you to take more of him and gag. You relaxed your throat, knowing it was a mistake on his part, pulling away to just take the tip in your mouth as you caught your breath. You hummed around him, trying to communicate that you were fine; that caused his hips to jump, too.

His grip on your hair pulled you off of him, causing you to look up at him, face covered in precum and drool. You heard him swear quietly.

“c’mere,” he mumbled, letting your hair fall from his hands, helping you stand and straddle his lap, his hands immediately resting on your hips. Instantly, he was on your lips, kissing you roughly, impatiently- you had never seen professor hotchner impatient. He was patient with his students, no matter how blatantly stupid they were being (to spend more time with him, you presumed- there’s no way someone can be that stupid).

Now? he was gripping you like you were to float away like a helium balloon, and you certainly felt like you were going to. Your hands moved over to his shoulders to give you something to balance on as you ground your bare pussy onto his cock.

He stood up, causing you to squeak, quickly wrapping your legs around his waist. His hands were holding you up by your ass as he walked you over to his suit jacket he had previously hung up on the back of the door. He put your back to the curtain in front of the side window, holding you up with one hand as the other went into the inner suit jacket, searching.

He pulled out a condom, “wow. really, professor?” you looked at him in disbelief. He let out a laugh.

“I do have a life, I know,” he deadpanned but still smiled at you.

“I don’t believe that,” you said, your smile growing.

“oh? why’s that?”

“your office is always open until 7,” you mumbled, kissing him roughly, grabbing the condom from him and opening it. You rubbed your thumb over his head, causing a groan to leave his lips, before rolling the condom onto his thick shaft. 

Your movements were quick as he entered you- you were both just as needy as each other (although you assumed he was more so- considering he hadn’t even cum yet). He lined himself up to you, slowly pushing it in. You had thought taking him in your mouth was difficult, but now? Your head fell back against the wall with a thud, but you ignored it instead of gripping onto his shoulders in a vain attempt to ground yourself.

His head fell into the crook of your neck, and his hand returned to your ass after he lined himself up. His grip on you was becoming tighter the deeper inside you he went. 

When he bottomed out, you both let out a simultaneous groan, staying still for a few seconds to take in the situation- your professor was balls-deep inside you. he was balls-deep inside his student. 

Despite the moral dilemma he was currently facing, there was no way in all hell that he would pull out now. He started rocking his hips gently, letting out quiet moans into your neck as your hand scraped through his hair and your mouth fell into an ‘o’ shape.

“Professor,” you moaned out. The title seemed to trigger something inside Professor Hotchner, and he sped up until his pace was fast, rough, and brutal. He didn’t let up, even as you clawed at his shoulders, digging your nails into the ironed dress shirt. 

You were sure, had you been against the door, that it would’ve broken off the hinges. And you were convinced that if anybody was inside his lecture hall, they would know what you two were doing- how could they not? It wasn’t like you two were being quiet.

He continued kissing up and down your throat, holding you up with one hand under your ass (which he occasionally squeezed, causing you to jolt against him), and whispering dirty words into your skin.

“sweet girl… you’re so pretty for me,” he said, against your collarbone, his pace relentless, “letting your professor fuck you like a dirty little whore,” your toes curled at his words, your second orgasm hitting you like a moving train.

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as your grip on him tightened, grinding yourself onto him; your other hand moved down to rub quick, harsh circles on your clit. Back arched against the wall, you accidentally shoved your tits into Professor Hotchner’s face- something he was taking advantage of. Your vision blurred, tears forming in your eyes as you squeezed them shut, your moans growing louder as the seconds passed.

“Oh, god, professor! Please, please, please,” you weren’t quite sure what you were begging for, your words falling easily from your lips without meaning. Your voice felt foreign to your own ears as they rang.

Professor Hotchner continued his rough strokes through your orgasm, not stopping or fumbling once. His grip on you tightened as he came inside you, your cunt squeezing him dry as you pressed his body against yours, almost slumping against you.

You both stayed there for a while longer, panting and trying to catch your breath. His hands continued to smooth over your exposed flesh, his head buried in the crook of your neck. as your scratched lazily up and down his hair, your head against the wall.

He pulled out of you soft and let you down, gently, careful not to hurt you. he was quick to pull up and zip up his slacks again as you went in search of your clothes. The silence was killing you- the post-orgasm clarity hitting you both with what you had just done. Not that you regretted it. But you knew it was- well, wrong. It was against many rules and policies, but you certainly didn’t regret it.

And neither did he.

You got dressed quickly, putting on your trousers and shirt, slipping back on your dolly shoes and grabbing your bookbag, professor hotchner watching you the entire time. You smiled up at him, trying not to be quite awkward about this- you wanted it to happen again and acting awkward was not the way to go around that.

“See you on Thursday, professor,” you smiled at him again, walking out of the office and through the lecture hall, your smile growing into a smirk. 

Aaron shook his head after you left, scoffing then smiling- you were really something else, huh?

[probablyintensemuses]

I need advice asap!

Im 21 years old and im a student in college. I work a coffee shop job. My boyfriend is 23 years old and works a full time job as a computer engineer for a company and makes 70k a year if not more. I’m considering breaking up with him, but before why, I’ll elaborate.

Me and my boyfriend live together.

His apartment burned down in late 2022, early 2023. Until he found a place he stayed with me and my family. When he got his place he asked me to move in on a few conditions: id cook and clean.

We have a dog. I handle most of everything for the dog except for maybe walking and play.

My boyfriend and I had a huge fight months ago, nearly a year ago, because when I wasn’t there, I was hanging with friends, he broke into my laptop and searched my messages and found old sexual messages between me and this girl and accused me of cheating. Yet he never broke up with me.

He hardly ever speaks to me and makes it seem like I’m an annoyance.

He doesn’t respect my boundaries and always pushes me

Now he wants me to quit my job and get a serving job so I can pay half the rent as well as my other expenses.

He wanted to visit his parent in Florida and drive using my car. Dealership said my wheels weren’t good and I needed them all replaced. He paid for it and told me I had to pay him back even thought I never asked. He drove my car down there and doesn’t pay shit on it! And is trying to do it again, but I said no this time.

He hardly interacts with my family.

He doesn’t help me financially but expects me to help him. The most she’s bought me is a few books and stuff. When I bought him a 1.2k dollar amp for his college graduation and I was broke, that came out my savings and it burnt in the fire.

I constantly bend over backwards for him and get hardly anything in return. I think our relationship has run its course I just have no idea what to do.

I just need advice I feel so stuck and stupid. Can anyone help me? Mg parents keep telling Me to come back home and finish school, save my money. But idk I’m afraid he’ll expose my sexuality to them cuz he said he would.

Two last things, this is more recent, my boyfriend is supposed to be going to Florida in a few days and I can’t afford to come —context it’s his brothers engagement party—I already expressed this. Not I mention it would be out 3rd anniversary while he is down there and he hasn’t said shit about it. Also instead of helping me he just sends me screenshots of flight costs and shit.

Another thing happened the other night. I got kind of drunk and was sitting on the couch. I wanted to talk to him and was begging for him to come talk to me and sit with me. And he got so annoyed and said he was tired and walked away and kept ignoring me even though I was calling for him. But had energy to play on the video game and laugh with friends and play with our dog not even an hour earlier. His response when i called him on that?

“I worked ten hours today. You didnt.”

Am I the asshole, what should I do?

[odxrilove]

☆ VALENTINES DAY WITH ENHYPEN

pairing: enhypen x reader

genre: scenarios, fluff, established relationship

a/n: HAPPY VALENTINES DAY EVERYBODY!! 🫶🫶 i hope everyone has a great day hihihi i listened to kiss later by (loona's) yeojin and day 1 by red velvet while writing this!

☆ HEESEUNG takes you to a concert.

heeseung’s an adult and so with his adult money, he can finally spoil you on valentine’s day. he’s terribly excited with everyday that passes, he knows you’ve always wanted to watch your favorite artist(s) in concert and the fact that they are holding a concert near where you live on valentine’s day was like destiny. after they announced their tour, heeseung was even better informed than you were, feigning ignorance whenever you told him about it. and when it was time to buy the tickets, heeseung even pleaded for his friends’ help, all of them quickly scrolling and tapping on their laptops in heeseung’s room until one of them managed to snatch some tickets. after the tickets are secured (and he’s given the one who got them twenty dollars) heeseung uses the rest of the days until valentine’s day to listen to your favorite artist(s) entire discography, even going as far as to learn their names. and when he parks in front of the concert hall, he can’t help but smile as you get teary-eyed.

☆ JAY brings you to a restaurant.

it’s a well known fact that jay likes to spoil you– one of his love languages is gift giving, and he’s pretty good (read: super good) at it. he knows what you like and wants and doesn’t mind spending his money on you, even if you get embarrassed and angry when you realize the cost. so over the course of the past few months, jay has spoiled you less than usual, per your request. you’re happy to spoil him in return, using your well-earned money to buy him well-deserved gifts. jay couldn’t be happier though and you immediately notice him wearing the watch you bought him whenever you meet him after. as a thank you and for valentine’s day, jay decides to treat you to an expensive restaurant, knowing that was part of your bucket list. and as the two of you eat peacefully, clearly in love and whispering sweet things to each other, jay shows off his watch, his sleeve bunched up at his elbow.

☆ JAKE takes you strawberry picking.

for weeks before valentine’s day, jake was searching for ideas for the best date ever. his ego was holding him back from asking his friends for advice and he in no way wanted to use google, watching tons of romcoms for inspiration instead. with every day that passed, his heart would beat rapidly at the sight of any valentine’s day decorations. jake was desperate, thinking that he would never find something before valentine’s day. but that was until he came across a flower field near a farm while walking his dog layla. he thought he was dreaming or seeing things! how could he have missed such a magical place? not a second later his legs started moving towards the farm, ready to beg and plead to whoever would listen. jake was lucky that the owner was nice and his wife a fan of anything romantic, getting permission with a slap to the back. and when it was finally time for you to go on your date, you didn’t think jake could ever score a better date than this one, picking out strawberries together while admiring the beautiful flower field.

☆ SUNGHOON takes you ice skating at night.

you’ve accompanied sunghoon a lot to his ice skating training, happily watching him from the sideline as he skates around, showing his moves off with a grin on his face. the boy is always happy when you accept or propose to accompany him, the urge to do his best for you growing instantly. it’s always chilly at the ice skating rink so he always offers his jacket or hoodie to you, forcing it over your head while chuckling and assuring he can’t get cold while skating. but even if sunghoon couldn’t be happier during these moments, there’s something he does find annoying and it’s his coach interrupting your “romantic date” by pointing at the clock, ushering you both outside before closing up. so when it’s valentine’s day and time for your weekly ‘date’ at the rink, his coach finally relents and lets him have the keys of the building, making him promise to give them back at 7am sharp the next day. normally, sunghoon would have groaned at the early hour but this time he can only bow, forcing a “yes sir!” out of his mouth before running off with the keys.

☆ SUNOO takes you picnicking in his garden.

sunoo is a romantic at heart. he’s one of the biggest kdramas fans you’ve ever seen and the two of you often binge watch new dramas together, cuddling and sharing a soft blanket late at night. it’s cute, really, and sunoo loves watching them with you, unable to stop himself from giggling when you comment on the plot. since the two of you are avid drama watchers, the bar for dates is set quite high and you often surprise each with new and special dates. because of that, sunoo wanted valentine’s day to be very special but his dreams soon came to a stop when all his plans got ruined. suddenly, the restaurant he reserved a table at had to close that day and the owner of the flower shop he was going to bring you to for a class about bouquet arrangements is sick. it’s last minute and rushed but you’re happy about the impromptu picnic in his garden. sunoo did try his best to make it special and you think it is so he’s all happy again– it doesn’t matter that the picnic had to be in his garden next to his mom’s roses because of the cake that needs to stay in the fridge.

☆ JUNGWON takes you to a new cat cafe.

you two met thanks to your neighbor’s cat. your neighbor, a little old lady who gives you cookies whenever she sees you, accidentally let her cat escape while you were walking out the door. so in a rush you took off behind her cat, screaming its name and jumping over obstacles like you were doing parkour. when you bumped into jungwon, who was tightly holding onto the cat, you mutually thought it was meant to be. since you’ve started dating him, cats have been a constant presence in your life, which you’re not mad about. so for valentine’s day, jungwon thinks it would be nice to bring you to the new cat cafe in town, knowing how much you love those little creatures. but not only are you going to snack and drink whatever beverage you want to, you will also take care of the kitties after. and when you jump up and down excitedly at the mention and thought of playing with cats, giving dozens of kisses to jungwon, he knows valentine’s day is successful.

☆ RIKI brings you to the arcade.

riki and you became friends, then lovers while bonding over your shared passion, gaming. everytime the two of you would hangout, it would either be at one of your homes, hands glued to the game controller or outside in the sun, laying down in the grass with your switch. it was never boring, the competitiveness rising with every new game and day. you loved video games, so riki thought the best date would be something related to that. of course, he didn’t want valentine’s day to be just another hangout because, well, it’s valentine’s day! he would be a terrible boyfriend if he ruined your first valentine’s day together. so when the Special day finally arrives, riki takes you to an arcade. the place is filled with games he knows you both are going to enjoy and for once, he doesn’t mind letting you win a few times.

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please do not copy, repost or steal any of my work. all content belongs to @odxrilove

[phoenix-eclipses]

Casting Love 0.13 -- Kenma's Awesome Roommate

Your trip to the cafe had been short. Makki and Mattsun had asked for you to come talk to them, joking you had been showing clear favoritism for the only member of your group who hadn't gone to Seijoh, but you only rolled your eyes and came to say hi to the two of them.

Even if you hadn't been planning to meet with Kenma, Makki had a class in twenty minutes so you all chatted while ordering your treats and waiting to receive them. It didn't take long before Makki separated from you two and Mattsun took it upon himself to walk with you to Kenma's building.

"Dang, I thought we'd be going to the one dorm building near here, not this place!"

"I thought the same thing when he said he was close to the cafe! Maybe his parents are rich, or something."

"Maybe you should try and date him, get that money." he nudged against you teasingly.

"Why bother when I got Tooru and Haji?" you laughed back.

"Fair point. Oikawa would spoil you to all hell." you both entered the lobby. "Do you want me to come up to you to the room... if I'm even allowed to?"

You stayed silent for a moment, remembering the system Kenma had explained to you. However, a part of you felt like it was a bit sketchy and would prefer to keep people knowing about it. As close as you were with Mattsun, he did frequently accidentally let secrets out.

"Nah, I don't think they would. Last time I was here he talked to them so they'd know I was with him. Doubt they'd let you in without him down here, thank you though."

"No problem, just don't drop the bag or your drinks." Mattsun waved to you before walking out of the lobby, probably to return to his own dorm. You let out a sigh before heading to the lady that sat at the desk.

"Excuse me?"

Despite you speaking, she didn't bother to even look up at you, she just let out a small hum to show she had heard you.

"I'm here to visit Kozume Kenma. He's on the 7th floor." as you spoke, you began to wonder if Kenma had even be telling the truth. In a building like this, surely they'd have higher security. But before you could even think to call Kenma to prove you were here for him, she scribbled something down and placed a card on the desk in front of you.

"That'll get you into the elevator." she still didn't even look at you, returning to her work. You took the card, still skeptical this could be some sort of joke, and walked to the elevator, swiping it just as Kenma did. Immediately, the light above the elevator went off, showing that it was coming down to the lobby.

It didn't take long for you to get up to the seventh floor and arrive to Kenma's door. You knocked on the door despite having the card and Kenma opened it for you.

"Hey," he greeted, stepping away from the door and letting you close and lock it behind yourself.

"Hi! Here's your drink and apple pie," you place both onto the counter in the kitchen. He lets out a hum, grabbing out his laptop and placing it beside them. "So, looking at this list, I think we should figure out where we can easily buy the majority of these from, to try and avoid paying for shipping from several places and to get them all near the same time."

"Easiest would probably be Amazon then."

You nod your head, pulling out your own laptop and opening up the notes you guys had made and the Amazon website. Kenma didn't bother opening his, simply sliding his chair closer to yours as you began looking for all of your items.

You two spent nearly an hour picking out the items. In some cases, you both decided it'd be better to create items out of clay instead of buying something else due to the price or for lack of items that appeared as you both wanted them. By the time you guys had everything there, you went to the cart and forced yourself not to show your severe problem with the cost it had totalled to.

"Okay, how do you want me to send you my half?"

You sat for a moment, thinking about the best way. You didn't have any apps that were frequently used for monetary sharing for obvious reasons, though you did know Oikawa's information for most, but that would no doubt raise some questions for Kenma. You instead double checked the kind of phone Kenma had before speaking. "Send it over with Apple Pay?"

He shrugged before opening your guys' conversation and sending over his half. Thankfully due to previous insistence from Oikawa, you had his card saved just in case so you saved it to that card before using it for the items you guys had.

"Hm." you stared at your laptop.

"Hm?" Kenma prompted you to talk.

"Do you mind if we have these go here? We've had some issues with packages being stolen at my dorm."

"Sure." he shrugged, reaching over to enter his mail information before you guys finished checking out.

"Well then! I should probably get going."

Kenma gave you a small nod, standing up to throw away your guys' garbage as you collected your things. Just before you sat up, the front door opened to reveal Kuroo.

"Kenma! I've returned!"

"Okay," was all Kenma said as he came back to you. You let out a small laugh at his simple response.

"Hi Kuroo," you greeted as he walked into the kitchen with you two. The man let out a small, clearly faked, gasp at you being there.

"Hello again! Did I disturb you guys on project stuff?"

"No, you're fine. We actually just finished up!"

"Great timing then. Did you want to stay for dinner, Y/N?" Kuroo offered. It was then you noticed he had some grocery bags.

"Oh," you glanced to Kenma who wasn't even looking at you. He had gone to his phone. "No thanks, but thank you for the offer, I should probably return before my roommate gets worried."

"Are you sure? I promise I can actually cook!"

You let out a laugh, "I'm sure you can cook just fine Kuroo, I'll come back some other time for dinner."

"I'll hold you to that!" there was some silence as you swung your bag over your shoulder. "Say, Y/N, could I have your number?"

"Huh?"

"Don't go trying to date my project partner," it was the first time since Kuroo had walked in Kenma looked up from his phone. The accused man held up his hands with a smile.

"Not, promise. I just thought it'd be nice since you guys'll be working together for this semester. In case something happens and you can't tell them, so I can!"

"Makes sense," you shrugged, pulling out your phone to him. "Enter your number, I'll send you a text when I get home."

Kuroo happily did so, taking a quick selfie on your phone which made you laugh and Kenma roll his eyes, before your phone returned to your pocket.

"Now then, I should get going. Bye! I'll see you in class Kenma, and whenever I see you next Kuroo!"

Kuroo excitedly waved at you, nudging against Kenma to make him look up and wave to you. You laughed before walking out, closing the door behind you.

0.12 -- Masterlist -- 0.14

Notes

My current desperation to write the Oikawa SMAU is infecting everything, so if there's like way too much Oikawa love going on in these, SHUSH, he's like- kind of a platonic lover in here

I love Kenma, but man is dry asf and no one can change my mind. Like he WILL be talking more/being less dry in the future but especially when they're not even considered friends we getting the dry treatment guys

Also Ima be honest I don't really know how the like apple pay through messages works so don't overthink it, I just had to make it work

These were supposed to be out yesterday but I got like a massive migraine that wouldn't go away so I didn't feel like arranging everything so I didn't <3

I'm going to be home alone Wednesday-Friday which either means Ima get so much done or nothing done, so I guess we shall see then

These notes are totally not me procrastinating more on cleaning my room (totally)

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[gremlinmodetweeker]

Hello hello! If you are willing, maybe you can write something about König and his SO (gn preferably) regarding homecooking and just the delights of the kitchen! I think we just need some good domestic love from him.

Abso-flipping-lutely I can write that for you. I need my sweet baked goods dammit. I hope you enjoy this disgusting amount of fluff. I think it is GN, but I could be wrong. There might have been something I wrote that I didn't see, but I did try to keep it GN.

Also shout out Kitchenaid. I'm not sponsored, but if I could be I would be. Please sponsor me Kitchenaid. I want a Kitchenaid stand mixer so badly.

1.4k word count. Story below the cut. No warnings needed except exceptionally sweet fluff.

In Three Days

König, for all that was wonderful about him, was a bit of a hazard in the kitchen. Not because he was a bad cook, oh no König is a fantastic cook. He’s just a menace when you’re baking.

“But it is still flour! How is it any different than cake flour?” König grumbled as he put the whole grain flour back into the cupboards, switching to grumbling in his native language to keep you from smacking him with a wooden spoon (again).

“It is not the same. Cooking and baking are different, König,” you turn to keep a careful eye on him. You didn’t particularly trust him to not just make a show of putting it away only to put it in anyways. “You can’t substitute everything like you usually do.” 

You not-so sneakily slipped in between him and the cupboard, preventing him from trying to go for it when you weren’t looking. He squinted down at you, sniffed, and spun on his heel to turn back to the bowl on the kitchen island.

“First you do not want margarine, then you do not want me to use baking soda instead of baking powder, and now you are complaining about what flour I use,” he muttered to himself.

“If your suggestions weren’t awful, I might consider them,” you raised your wooden spoon in warning.

He took no heed of your weapon, instead choosing to move it to the side with a finger and look at you incredulously, “I make fantastic suggestions.”

“If I listened to you, our cake would already be a disaster,” you snapped back.

“But I am right. It is more efficient! It is cost effective!” König crossed his arms over his broad chest.

“We agreed that money wasn’t an issue!” you bonk his masked nose with the spoon, leaving a small white spot.

He shakes his head, but walks back to the screen of your laptop and crouches down to look at it properly.

“That many eggs?” König spat.

“Yes, that many eggs,” you replied as you pulled out the carton from the fridge, “it’s a big cake.”

“But that is so many! What cake needs ten eggs!?” König whined as he helped you crack the eggs into the bowl of the stand mixer.

“We bought these eggs for the cake, so you knew what you were getting into when you came with me to the store,,” you reply, dropping the last egg white into the bowl.

“And then what do we do with all these yolks?” König pointed to the bowl of yolks beside him, “you are not allowed to throw them out.”

“We’re not throwing them out, we’re using them for the lemon curd filling,” you explained as you set the bowl into the fridge.

“So that is why you bought the lemons…” König mused. He nodded sagely as you turned on the stand mixer. Not long after, the mixture was ready for the next step.

“Who puts sour cream in cake? It is…” König squinted, “wrong.”

“It’s to add moisture,” you scraped the paste into the bowl, then turned on the mixer again. You turned it off and glanced over at him, “see look, I told you we needed a Kitchenaid mixer.”

“I still think it was too much,” König shook his head dismissively.

“So you want to mix the batter yourself?” you raise your eyebrows at him, daring him to try challenging you.

“I could. I am tired today, but I could do it,” König asserts defiantly. He crossed his arms over his chest, showing off his thick forearms.

“Sure thing buddy,” you roll your eyes, “keep telling yourself that.”

König simply muttered a few words in German as he checked on the oven.

“Are you sure the temperature is correct?” König asked.

“Aren’t you the one that set it?” you countered.

“Yes, but I want to make sure,” he replied.

“Well, check the recipe. It’s right there,” you pointed at the laptop.

He glanced between the laptop and the stove before nodding and turning back to you.

“Yes, it is good. The oven is set to one seventy-seven.”

“Wait what?” your eyes widened in horror.

“What?” König stiffened, “there is no problem, is there?”

“Why is the oven so low?” you hurried over to the stove, abandoning the cake mix in the process.

“Low? No, it is high! That is high!” König blinked and looked down at you as you checked the oven’s LED display.

“No, that’s-Oh. Celsius, not fahrenheit,” you gave a relieved sigh, “don’t do that to me! You had me panicking there.”

“It is not practical to use imperial,” König said, his tone too haughty for his own good.

“Yeah, but I’m used to people using imperial in recipes,” you shrugged and walked back to pour the rest of the dry ingredients into the wet.

“Well you are used to people using the wrong measurement system,” König huffed as he trailed behind you to the stand mixer.

“I am…” you dumped the last of the dry into the wet, “sure, whatever.”

König rolled his eyes, but he left it at that. Instead, he stepped back to go back to what you were doing earlier.

“Are you mixing it too much?” König leaned over your shoulder.

“No? I don’t think so. It should be good. Can you go check the video for me?”

König returned to the laptop, coming back a moment later with an affirming nod.

“You are right, my love. I am sorry,” König clapped a hand on your shoulder, giving it a soft rub before flicking the stand mixer off, “now it is done.”

“Thanks,” you smiled and leaned back to kiss him before taking the stand mixer bowl out and to the island.

König ended up being the one to measure out the pans, having done the weight calculations while you worked. You called him a nerd, he called you an idiot before kissing your forehead.

“My favorite idiot,” he’d said, sweet as the German buttercream frosting you’d both made earlier.

Once the pans were in the oven, you both sat down on the counter stools.

“That was so much work,” you groaned and stretched yourself over the soapstone island. You stretched out one hand and took his hand in your own. He gave you a light squeeze, then went limp. Evidently, it was a long day for both of you.

“Thanks for all the help.”

König sleepily turned his head to you, then gave you a small nod.

“Always.”

“I’m so happy to have you,” you squeezed his hand, “you’re the best thing that’s happened to me.”

“I can say the same of you,” König leaned over and slung an arm over your shoulder, then dragged you and your tool over to his side.

You huffed, but leaned into his side.

“You could’ve asked me to move.”

“This was more efficient,” König insisted.

“Was it now,” you kissed his chin through the mask with a smile, “so, just three more days?”

“Three more days,” König agreed and hugged you tightly to him. You melted into his hold with a smile.

“You looking forward to it?” you asked.

König squeezed you tight, “More than anything. Even if it does cost so much.”

“Hey, you agreed I could do what I wanted,” you laughed, “and I cut costs where I could.”

“You could have gotten your own tailor, but you went second hand. You are unbelievable,” König grumbled, but gave you a kiss, “but I am thankful. Others would spend my money like water, but you are careful. You are not good at math, but you are smart with your money at least.”

“I’m not that bad at math,” you nudged his side.

“No, but you are bad enough for me to laugh at you,” König smirked under his mask.

“Anyways, are you tired?”

“So tired. Do you want to lay down?”

You nodded eagerly. You followed him to the sofa, where he flopped down and dragged you onto his chest. He rubbed his hand over your sore back and hummed contently.

He rolled his head back over the armrest and sighed.

“If only I knew our wedding cake would be so much work.”

PS: Recipe I used (I doubled it for the story)

[happyk44]

i started writing this in my drafts weeks ago but didn't continue much farther than the first sentence - probably put it down to do something else and then passed out lmao. anyway after scrolling past last night wanted to continue it but can't be effed to scroll through my drafts rn (i save everything to my drafts to tag and queue later and my drafts ar like over 250+ rn)

anyway percy who becomes obsessed with finding this grim reaper he saw the night his mom killed his step-dad. he was an abusive asshole and percy helped his mom stage the scene to look like someone gabe owed money to came knocking. they don't have much in terms of expensive shit - just the TV and playstation. it's an old old model that one of percy's classmates was going to throw out as he wasn't into the games he had with it anymore and was getting the latest version for christmas.

it was nice that he gave it to percy with only a fraction of the cost in hand and a promise to give him the rest over time. percy paid him off every monday. it took sally weeks to pay it off, percy chipping in by donating cans and glass bottles he found lying around. the games were old and a little childish, but it was the only entertainment percy had aside from sally's old and crappy laptop that gabe hogged with online poker games.

so it sucked to watch sally dump it into an empty trash bag. it's small, she'd said. the tv would be too big to carry out without causing suspicion, even in mind-your-business new york city, but the playstation, her shitty laptop, and gabe's cell and wallet were things that could be dumped into a bag with no one giving a second look. percy crawls out the fire-escape grateful their shitty apartment building doesn't have cameras. he has to use a couple boxes to really rise himself enough to stuff the bag under the other bags. sally walks out the front door and they go have a late dinner at a nearby cafe.

then go home an hour later and scream in surprise at gabe's dead body in the bedroom, still warm from the heater in the corner boiling up the room that sally promptly unplugs.

percy doesn't think much about WHY his mom was so specific about how to clean his blood off the kitchen floor, about how to stage the scene, about moving gabe's body into the bedroom, about pulling him like he had been then letting him fall flat. heating up the room to keep him warm and fresh, while keeping the window cracked open so the heat doesn't stay by the time the police arrive.

he writes it away as her being a reader, a writer. maybe murder mysteries had been on her mind lately. maybe she watched too many cop shows. maybe she'd thought about this so many times she perfected it. his mom was not a repeat killer. gabe was her first time. her only time. and it was fine.

he sucked.

it's sitting in the chair, feigning distress but not too much, talking to a cop about the scene while he stares off into the air when he sees him. the boy is young, dark-haired and pale-skinned. he's startled by the presence, cutting off in his explanation about how people often came banging on the door for money gabe owed them. how he kept his poker winnings in the now open and empty safe in the bedroom. he wants to draw attention to the boy, but no one else seems to notice him.

he watches idly as gabe is carried out the front door in a body bag. then disappears towards the bedroom.

percy stands and mutters something about wanting to see his mom. the cop guides him to where she's sat on the bed crying thick tears. the boy is there. no one else cares that he's there. the boy reaches out and gabe's body shimmers into view. he's a visage of how he'd looked right before he died - the wide-eyed shock, tensing of his shoulders, mouth open wide because he'd been shouting at percy, threatening him.

he didn't realize how much like his mom he was until gabe fell flat with a knife sticking out of his throat. his mom standing behind him breathing hard. she'd squatted beside his head, pulled out the knife. stared at it. then stabbed stabbed stabbed until gabe's chokes turned to wispy gasps and his wispy gasps disappeared.

"four stab marks," his mom had said. "hopefully that won't look like overkill. but make sure to mention how many times people came screaming at the door just in case."

gabe's white glowing form dissipates into a ball in the boy's hands. he pulls out a baggie from his shoulder bag, then dumps gabe into it with a grimace.

he does suck, percy thinks. be annoyed.

the boy steps away. his eyes catch percy's. percy's arm tightens around his mom's shoulders as he looks into the endless void that is the other boy's eyes. flashes of his own death catch his mind. lying flat on the ground, weakly asking for help, and a dark-skinned man with black angel wings standing above him whispering, i'm sorry, but it's time to go.

then the boy looks away and disappears into a shadow.

grover believes him when he tells him about it. that's the thing percy loves about grover. the mystical and paranormal are easily believed. grover's parents are hippie-like green witches. percy doesn't really get it but has surmised from grover and visiting their house it means they really, really like plants.

"grim reaper," grover calls him. "or a psychopomp. collectors of the dead."

he lists a bunch of names from various cultures until percy cuts him off. "are any young boys?"

grover shrugs. "i mean life is bigger than what the stories tell. there's more people, more humanity. atheists even. where do they go? who collects them? there's definitely more gods and spirits than we think these days. it's not like they all stopped fucking just because the stories ended. there are definitely more gods than we think."

percy doesn't know what to do with that. grover asks him a lot of questions about the boy. but it's hard to answer them. they can't find a culture he could belong to, a way to summon someone without a name. the kid was young, dressed normal in black clothes with a normal black messenger bag. there were no signs of culture, religion, belonging.

he could've blended into a primary school playground easily.

"maybe you need to kill someone," annabeth suggests. the conversation arises a year or so after they first met and befriended her - a new addition halfway through the school year, a few months after gabe's unfortunate death. following a CPS check, her biological mother decided to take charge of her. annabeth spent a lot of time grumbling about her family in california while also missing california ("it's familiar, new york is not, i don't miss my step-mom, i miss the comfort of routine") and bitching about her bio mom's obsession with her grades and extracurriculars.

it takes some campaigning but the three of them manage to create an afterschool club in the new school year for her to find some time to chill and relax and get school work done. it took a lot longer to convince her mom to let her join their "magics and mystics club" - some nonsense about how it'll make her stand-out in college applications.

percy highly doubts any college is looking too closely at middle school extracurriculars, but what does he know? he's either lasting until graduation with grover and annabeth, or getting his GED and dropping out to immediately book it to the first basic entry-level job he can find. school already sucks ass, but his barely medicated ADHD and severely dyslexic ass already twaddles the line of a C average. What's the use of hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt that's only growing frantically from interest and a degree he barely achieved with the lowest grades required to shake the hand of someone he's never interacted with?

annabeth spends most of her time in the club doing her homework, while percy gets reeducated on grover's witchy stuff. their club advisor is the drama teacher who only checked in at the beginning of that first meeting then dipped for the drama club. grover's putting together a presentation on the history of mysticism while percy glues pictures to poster board. annabeth will present their stuff. the three of them doubt anyone will care if they did anything productive with their club, but annabeth's mom will so they do their best to make it fancy as fuck.

she already doesn't like either of them.

in the spare times that annabeth isn't doing homework or studying for another class, they talk about the spiritual and paranormal, magic and whatnot. so percy mentions his experience with the reaper.

and annabeth's first suggestion is murder. it's hilarious. grover knows the truth but annabeth only knows the lie. percy makes a note of it in his head. maybe he'll hint around the truth. they're close, but there's still time needed between the two of them. the worst she's told him is about the spiders in her bedroom. but nothing about what kickstarted a CPS investigation and her subsequent arrival into his life.

"maybe he's a murder reaper," she says. she's intellectual, doesn't believe in the mystic magic stuff but tolerates it for grover. "so he only comes around when there's been a murder."

"i don't think reapers are split up by types of death," grover argues. "and even if they were, why would a little kid be sent to deal with murders?"

annabeth crosses her arms. "maybe he's not a kid. maybe he just chooses to look like that."

they get into a weird half-argument, half-civil discussion. to her credit, annabeth doesn't bring science into it. they both descend to the computers and the books grover brought in from his house to search through to prove whatever point they've landed on.

percy is too busy cutting out paper to glue to poster board. and thinking about the murder aspect. he doubts that murder matters. he's pretty sure grover's right, but he likes keeping his balls so he doesn't say. annabeth is probably right too. magical beings are always capable of changing form. maybe little kid is just easy. who would be afraid of going somewhere with a little kid. or a dog.

but death is needed to see the reaper again. percy doesn't live with anyone dying. and he's too young to volunteer at the hospital. besides death is random isn't it? everyone was convinced that their classmate who got diagnosed with stage four cancer was going to die but she returned a year and a half later missing a leg but recovering. and the gym teacher who ran marathons and was known for his obsessively healthy eating habits died of a heart attack over the summer.

and even if he hovered around people on the verge of death, it didn't mean he was going to be there when they died.

but murder? definitely. he'd be right there because it would be his fault.

at that, he dashes the thought away. murder is wrong. he can't kill people just to see a reaper he saw but never spoke to. it's not like he has any questions about his death. he'll die when he dies. dying isn't scary to him. what's scary is dying before his mom and leaving her childless and mourning. but death itself? he's unafraid.

but inside burns a deep need to see the reaper again. not even to talk to him. just to lay his eyes on that night sky hair and porcelain skin. then he'd be satisfied and the need would go away.

maybe.

probably.

hopefully.

it's on his sixteenth birthday that he sees another reaper. it's not the boy he's looking for. he's disappointed. he shouldn't be. he should be more concerned with the dead man lying in front of him.

the letter opener is sticking out just below luke's left armpit. it hadn't killed him. it was too delicate for that, and the spot wasn't vital enough. but it had shocked him enough for annabeth to shove him away in disgust. he fell back, tripping over annabeth's shoes, and smashed into the glass coffee table.

"shit," annabeth breathes. she doesn't notice the reaper - a slender arabic man appear from the darkness and pull luke's soul of his chest with thin hands. he pushes his hands together and the soul vanishes. then he turns into a dog, or... something like a dog, and disappears back into the shadows.

it's take a few minutes to figure out how to stage the scene. they get rid of the letter opener and shove a piece of broken glass into the spot. this time he doesn't escape through the window. just walks out of the room, calm and detached, and sits in his mom's car. when the police arrive, annabeth, crying thick tears, tells them that he had fallen over while she was getting her things ready after percy came to pick her up.

it's not technically a lie. the police wish him a happy birthday when he says he came by to pick annabeth up from her study session because they were going to do laser tag for his birthday that afternoon. when they don't arrest him in the weeks that follow, he relaxes. and considers his options. he googles arab dogs which is an odd search term but brings up jackals and anubis. cool, he thinks. he tells them both about it afterwards. despite the death, grover is excited. annabeth is less impressed.

"i would've noticed, i was there too," she huffs.

"maybe they don't like you because you're a nonbeliever," grover fires back.

is percy a believer? he's not sure. he knows that what he sees is real. if he was suffering from delusions or hallucinations, surely he'd be seeing them a lot more than twice over the course of four years.

"what if i asked them?" he suggests. "to make themselves visible to you?"

"planning on being around another newly dead guy soon?" annabeth asks with a laugh. grover snorts. but percy remains silent and serious so their amusement shifts to concern

grover leans in close. "percy-"

"just bad people," he cuts in with a solemn whisper.

"you can't be judge, jury and executioner," annabeth hisses. "what you think is bad is not always universal? think about jim crow laws or slavery-"

"annabeth," he cuts in before she can go on an historical tangent. "i was hoping you'd help actually."

it doesn't take long for her to click together what he wants out of her. she glares at him. "percy," she snarls through clenched teeth. "i'm not swishing my ass to entice seedy men for you to murder so you can maybe have a hallucination to process death."

"okay, okay." conceding, he raises his hands. "it was dumb, i'm sorry. i just... really wanna see this kid again. sorry."

annabeth watches him carefully the rest of the day. grover doesn't. he knows what percy is, even if he doesn't agree. so it's not too surprising to start seeing grover scrolling through the newspaper on his phone. he startles every time percy spooks him when he's reading. then laughs it off, swats at percy, and keeps reading. it's the obituaries that percy sees the most, but sometimes articles about a death.

whatever he's looking for, some kind of proof it's percy, he must not find because he doesn't say anything. but it's grover, percy's soulmate. so he's sure the slow side-eye that he gets some mornings are a knowing side-eye.

percy doesn't look at the newspapers. if he's gonna get caught, he'd rather be surprised about it other than worrying and getting sloppy.

it's hard to find truly shitty people from first glance. he doesn't have the patience to observe. just slight insomnia that keeps him up until one in the morning prowling the streets. he hovers around in his old neighborhood, where the cameras are for show and shitty people live. it's still difficult. he doesn't want to go around hurting innocent people. less so because he cares, but more because it would disappoint grover and annabeth and his mom. he can't disappoint them.

he does see reapers, including the one who will one day take him, but never the boy. percy tries to envision him older, but even then none of them match. he does try to speak to them, but they ignore him. he wonders if it's some kind of weird curse. he can see them but they can't. sometimes the ignorance seems intentional, but he can't really tell so other than a few short sentences that always go ignored, he gives up and heads home.

some days he wakes up and is certain the police will come for him. but they never do and so he gives it a few days or a couple weeks and head back out again. they're opportunity kills. random and haphazard. he keeps mittens on, which looks normal in the fall and winter, but sketchy over the summer. to counteract his want to see that reaper, he signs up to be a counselor for a summer camp. grover joins him. annabeth is dragged off to university summer classes by her mom. her emails are miserable. percy wonders aloud to grover if annabeth would be happier if her mom was dead. grover eyes him flatly and says he doubts it.

percy gets assigned to the little kids who tell him all kinds of family secrets. some are funny. some are not.

it's not that hard to get into the camp's directory and write down in poor handwriting and with tons of struggle the names and addresses of these secrets. it's not a lot, which is great. but it's more than it should be and come summer's end, he has his start for the fall.

it's clear grover knows what percy's planning. he was there after all when a little secret got whispered too loudly. but all he says is, "sometimes kids get things wrong." the newspaper on his phone comes back into play after summer ends. but he still says nothing, even when glances at percy from the corner of his eyes.

it's two years of scattered kills before he sees him again. the kid is older now. he looks about fourteen, maybe fifteen. but percy knows it's him. he's the only one who makes eye contact. this time percy doesn't see his death. but he sees the endless void.

purgatory, he thinks, before he blurts out, "i've been looking for you." the teen tilts his head and smiles, small, gentle. the sight of it slams hard into percy's ribcage and sinks messy into his heart. "what's your name?"

"what's yours?" the teen fires back, turning away from percy and collecting the pulsing orb into a little baggie like before. his voice is enchanting, smooth and crystalline. there's an edge of an italian accent in it.

"percy," he says without hesitation. "jackon. percy jackson." he shakes his head. "perseus, actually, but everyone calls me percy."

the teen laughs gently. the sound is haunting. somewhere in percy's subconscious he knows the sound should scare him. but instead he just craves it more. "well, perseus jackson, my name is nico."

nico, percy thinks. in his head, the name is surrounded by hearts like a schoolgirl writing out the name of their crush in a movie. "that's really pretty," he says aloud. mentally he slaps himself. that's really pretty? that's stupid.

but nico just laughs again. "thank you." he steps over the dead body and touches percy's face. "perseus was a quite the soul when he was collected." his fingertip ghosts down percy's cheek, leaving light phantom tingles behind. "will you be?"

then he dissipates into shadows, leaving percy with a heavy craving for his ghostly touch and hauntingly enchanted voice.

[potionsprefect]

Stickler For The Rules

Pairings: Ethan Ramsey x Victoria Clarke

Word Count: 1k

Summary: Date night looks a little different for Ethan and Victoria

Rating: General Audiences

Category: Fluff

Having opted to stay in this evening for date night, Victoria wondered what Ethan had planned. He always suggested fun ideas but Victoria usually found herself out exploring Boston. This time, she was in her own home.

The meal was delicious having opted for a spaghetti bolognaise, there was just the right amount of flavour in the meal. It was definitely better than going out and spending a lot of money. Whilst the Ramsey’s weren’t struggling for money, they still liked to spend it wisely.

The deal this time was that Ethan would choose the meal and Victoria would choose the activity afterwards. Ethan thought that would mean going to the bedroom, however Victoria had other ideas.

She had found the Monopoly board game in a toy shop in the city centre and knew she had to instantly buy it. Victoria hadn’t played the game in years but she thought now would be the time to start introducing Ethan to some childhood memories. She kept it in her part of the wardrobe until she had a good opportunity to bring it out. Tonight was the perfect night and Victoria couldn’t wait to show Ethan what she had bought.

“I think it’s time to stop leaving you in suspense.” Victoria winked.

“I don’t even think you’re planning what I want you to plan. But I want to be proven wrong.” Ethan said.

“I think you’ll like it either way.” Victoria got up and headed into the bedroom. She got the game out and headed back to the living room.

Ethan laughed when he saw what was in her hand. “You really know how to excite me.”

“It doesn’t take much, let’s be honest.”

“Why Monopoly? Where did you find one and how much did it cost?”

“A shop in the city. They did all different kinds of old board games and I thought it would be fun.”

Victoria set up the game in front of them. It was just like reliving her childhood. She loved seeing all the pieces and cards and the board game had that familiar smell of a Sunday evening as she knelt on the floor and played with her family.

“Do you remember how to play?” Ethan asked with amusement in his eyes.

“Of course. This was a tradition in my house. It’s like I’ve played it all the time. I haven’t for years, but hopefully I’ve still got it. It was always fun as a kid.” Victoria smiled.

Ethan took ahold of the instructions. “Well to be sure, let’s read through the instructions.”

“Oh Ethan-“

“No no. If we’re going to play, we’re going to play it properly. No cheating and definitely no bending the rules. I don’t want any Clarke tactics.” Ethan replied.

“I’m a Ramsey now. Or did you forget?” Victoria held her hand up, her rings glistening in the living room light.

“Never forget. But I know where these tactics came from. And they’re not allowed in the Ramsey house.” Ethan said.

Victoria rolled her eyes. “Fine. Have it your way then.”

It took Ethan around 10 minutes before he finally got through the instructions booklet, Victoria decided that he had deliberately read it out to annoy her as she got up halfway through to make a drink and he followed her to the kitchen.

Victoria started the game. It took a while to get going for both her and Ethan but they were soon laughing once they got into it. Victoria took great delight in counting the money that was dished out. It was something she did as a child and she loved doing it as an adult.

“You’re enjoying this way too much.” Ethan chuckled.

“I am. But it’s all part of the fun. I wonder if there are any other versions.” Victoria grabbed her laptop.

“Do we really need more than one?” Ethan asked.

“You can get lots of different versions! Or maybe we should buy more games. Maybe I’ll get you into chess.” Victoria laughed.

“Hell will freeze over before I do that.” Ethan said.

“What about checkers? Or trivial pursuit? Dominos? How about marbles! I used to have a set as a child and I loved building them.”

“I have a feeling our bank account is going to be taking a hit.” Ethan laughed.

“It’ll be worth it. We’ll have fun. That’s all that matters.”

And for the next few weeks, Ethan and Victoria found new games to try. These ranged from battleships to cards and marbles to checkers. At times, it was a lot more fun than going out.

Nights out turned into nights in. They would order a pizza and have a bottle of wine. It was certainly less expensive, although Ethan would disagree given how much they had spent on new games. He did insist on making sure that all the rules were followed and there would be no changing them under any circumstances.

“Cards against humanity? Wherever do they come up with these ideas?” Ethan said.

“They do different versions of this one too. You’re not gonna like some of these answers.” Victoria laughed.

He found out he didn’t. Ethan much preferred chess. At least he could be taught how to play that. He much preferred marbles although grumbled every time his one lost.

“I think we’ve exhausted the world with every game possible.” Ethan collapsed on the sofa one evening after a long game of Pictionary.

“I still can’t believe you agreed to that one. That took some persuasion.” Victoria giggled.

“Anything to make you smile.” Ethan laughed.

“All in a days work. I can’t believe you’re that tired. Maybe I didn’t work hard enough?” Victoria wondered.

“Oh you did work hard. Although, I know another activity that will tire us both out.” Ethan grabbed Victoria.

“Oh yeah? And what would that activity entail?” Victories grinned.

“Why don’t you let me show you?” Ethan said.

And he picked up his wife and carried her to the bedroom, her laughter ringing out throughout the house.

If Ethan is going to play a game, he’s going to take it seriously lol

Tag list: @ohchoices @swiftiexstarwarssimp @queencarb @genevievemd @choicesaddict5 @schnitzelbutterfingers @gryffindordaughterofathena @sophxwithers @romewritingshop @coffeeheartaddict2 @mm2305 @nikki-2406 @maurine07 @nishas-paradise @replayfootsteps @mainstreetreader @lsvdw-blog @kiara-36 @quixoticdreamer16 @headoverheelsforramsey @shanzay44 @itsjustamesshonestly @josiesopenheart @mysticalgalaxysstuff @custaroonie @ireneadlerisseggsy @takemyopenheart @kachrisberry @rookiemartin @jamespotterthefirst @a-crepusculo @natureblooms24 @jerzwriter @wanderingamongthewildflowers @rosebudde @lucy-268 @liaromancewriter @bex-la-get @writer-ish @toadfrog26 @tessa-liam @peonierose @cariantha @kyra75

[rreskk]

TROUBLE CONCEIVING LUST

-A/N: I lowkey rushed cos my laptop is dying, so apologises if grammar sucks (and spelling!)

Summary: You met this guy through mutual friends and he had to be the most... Interesting... Sexy?... Unusual man, ever. Playing a "spin the bottle" game ended drastically. You couldn't help yourself, and neither could he.

TW: -Smut

Pairings: Fem!reader/ Trevor Philips

Word count: 5777

NORTH YANKTON — 2002

“Who are these fine babes?”

You looked up from your empty glass of booze. A night out with some friends was almost at it’s end until one of your friends, Amanda, decided to bring along her “friend” who’s name was Michael. He mentioned 2 other guys coming, 2 faces you aren’t familiar with.

Smiling softly, you stared ahead at this middle-aged man who’s hair was blonde and slicked into a pony-tail. He was quite chubby but tall, a big lad. He was the guy who spoke first, his eyes drifting from girl to girl. There was a sense of excitement behind his gaze as Michael, the one you were briefly familiar with, spoke.

“This is Brad,” His hand signalled to the blonde guy you were just looking at before noticing a taller, much slimmer man behind them both, “And this is Trevor.”

You instantly made eye-contact with this stud. A shabby mullet, all wild and untamed. His hair was brown, a dark, chocolate brown (to be exact), and so was this stache. It was a fairly groomed moustache that really brings out his intense eyes. You couldn’t help but inspect this stranger with every detail you could find… That goes from his eyebrow scar to this gauntly, sickly grin he had. It was abnormal and different. You’ve never seen a man so rugged, scary but also striking.

You both held strong eye-contact before he was torn from your gaze and upon the rest of the group.

“How are you, Trevor?” Amanda asked with an informal tone; sounding rather disinterested, almost irritated at this guy called Trevor.

And the moment he revealed his voice, you had opened your mouth with fascination. The rawness and deep, taunting, grainy voice – it was glorious – you’d be able to sit and listen to him talk for years straight. However, a few words in, you’ve came to the conclusion that he was from the North; Canada. He had this Canadian tongue that was quite hard to miss.

“Splendid, Mandy. Don’t you have a nightshift, ay? It is a Friday.” He grinned at her, teasing.

“I took the day off.”

“Oh!” Mocked Trevor, “I thought money was an issue?”

Amanda glared at him. This guy was definitely a menace.

“Trevor leave her alone. Come introduce yourself, you too Brad. We’ve got – “ Michael had named every girl before approaching you, “ – and this is [y/n].”

“How’s it going, [y/n]?” You were surprised that he had asked you a question. His deadly eyes stared back at yours.  

“I’m fine.”

“Mm… Nice evening?”

“It’s been nice, yes.” You nodded your head.

“Michael mentioned you before,” He looked at you up and down, “Pleasure to meet you, at last.” He held out his hand and you could proper visualise his rough, veiny skin.

You proceeded to shake his hand, the contact so electrifying that you couldn’t even dare yourself to look into his eyes. It felt forbidden to feel such strong emotions for a man you just met.

“Pleasure to meet you too, Trevor.”

Trevor gave you a wink as everyone began to chat amongst themselves. He had left the conversation with intensions of annoying his buddies who were trying to decide on a “friendly, fun game” to end the night. They all took chairs and sat around the already crowded table. This guy, Bradley, was already smoking up a joint as Trevor eagerly took a hit before pouring himself some whiskey that Amanda didn’t finish. He ignored her protests and just downed it in one, throwing the bottle aside as it rolled off onto the floor.

“Jesus, Trevor! That was mine!” She complained and looked at Michael for support, but he was too busy pouring a pint of beer. 

“Chill, old girl. It was just a sip.”

“A fucking sip? You drank it all! That cost me a good few notes!”

“Woah, correct yourself, it costed Michael a good few stacks,” Trevor grinned at her, “Team effort, Mandy. Thank us.”

“Fuck you, Trevor.” You watched as Amanda refused to look in his direction.

“Maybe a few more shifts at the strip joint and you can afford the cheapest here.” He continued to torment her.

Mikey had distracted him before he could bully her too much and they all had an open discussion at the table. You ear-dropped their conversation and heard all sorts of ideas that consists of sexual imagery – most coming from Michael’s buddies – not Mikey himself.

“What’s wrong with sexy truth or dare?” Bradley seemed disappointed when his idea was turned down.

“Dude, it ain’t right. Why not a simple drinking game?”

“God… Amanda, what have you done to M? He’s a boring old prick now.”

“Shut up, Trevor. I’ve saved him from your psychotic ass!” And her backtalks were incredibly entertaining. It left you smiling giddily before Trevor caught your amusement, and he frowned. He didn’t like how you found joy in him being humiliated.

So you dropped your head and pretended to adjust your black dress, hoping to avoid any confrontation from this… Man. Somehow it made your stomach coil, not in a good way. These guys didn’t look as promising as Amanda painted them.

“I vote spin the bottle!” Brad announced.

“And what? Shots?”

“You know damn well, Mikey. How about kisses, blowjobs, handjobs?”

“Shut up, T.”

“Trevor’s right, dude.”

Michael groaned, “Shut up, Brad – Fuckin’ fine… Kisses then, but nothing else… Don’t be creepy, yeah?”

Your friends, including Amanda, seemed content with this game of spine the bottle, but you? Mixed feelings. You only just met these 2 guys and they are already demanding the group to participate in some high-school, drunk college game. You just knew that they had a rough idea to bring someone home, especially that one guy, Trevor.

Speaking of Trevor, he caught your sights again and smirked. You’ve noticed that he’s barely given any of the other girls attention. He didn’t even say hi or smiled at them – yet he seemed extremely curious about you. It felt dangerous.

“So we’ve got three chicks and three studs, yeah? Where’s a bottle we can use?” Brad inquired.

“Jesus, are you blind? Look around you, B. The table is filled with bottles.”

He responded to Trevor, “Shit man, they still have booze in them.” Both of them began looking around the table until they noticed your almost empty bottle. Bradley tilted his head and gave you a sickening grin.

“Are you gonna finish that, darl?”

You noticed Trevor wince at the pet name. He sent a glare to his friend and clenched his jaw.

“I – “ Feeling pressured, you just pushed the drink towards them, “No. You can, uh, have the rest.”

“Mmm… Thanks, babe.”

“Shut the fuck up, Bradley.” Your man of interest muttered before pouring the remainder of alcohol into a random glass.

Michael had rubbed his hands together in addition to the game beginning. He was sat beside Amanda, obviously making it known that they are two peas in a pod. It seems as they didn’t mind playing as an “unconfirmed” relationship, but you knew they wouldn’t take it as far as one kiss.

“Who’s going first?” Your other female friend asked.

It was getting late so the bar was slowly decreasing in population. Soon enough, you were the only table left behind. The jukebox was playing some late 80s rock and roll, a big throwback to the past. You listened to it through the background noise of Brad’s booming voice.

“I’ll go!”

He leaned forward and spun the bottle. Everyone watched with anticipation. You heart began beating. It was slowing and you gulped, thinking it was gonna land in you. Not wanting to kiss this man, you prayed to God. You sat tight and held your breath before it landed on Trevor.

The table began to laugh as Brad scowled with embarrassment.

“You fucking kidding me, bro?” He mumbled.

“Go on then!” Michael laughed, his arm around Mandy’s shoulder.

Trevor, unlike his friend, was smirking. He turned to face Bradley and gave him a mocking kissy face, waiting.

“T, stop it man. This is weird as fuck!”

“The longer you wait bro, the longer I’m gonna smooch the life outta ya.” He teased his buddy.  

This only made everyone laugh louder. You chuckled here and there until it all died down and Brad was left with no choice. He squeezed his eyes closed and speedily pecked Trevor’s lips. You saw it barely touched.

“Come on, man. You’re such a pussy.” T would roll his eyes.

“Shut up. Just… Carry on, goddammit!”

You were sat next to Brad, so it was your turn. Everyone looked over and gave you words of encouragement. You found the confidence to lean over the table and spin the bottle. You studied how fast it spun. Your heart was beating rapidly, you could feel your pulse breaking. It was nerve-wracking. The bottle was slowing down and it stopped. You followed it’s gaze and realised it pointed to your friend. She giggled.

Luckily it wasn’t… him.

“Ohhh…” He was the first to speak, “Mmm, I see how it is. Come on, ladies. Bring it on…”

You both ignored Trevor. Your friend adjusted her chair so she was facing you and held in a laugh. You did too. At least it was nothing awkward, more humorous. You decided to beat the clock and gave her a small kiss on the lips. She erupted in giggles, holding onto the table for support. The tension finally eased after your first go. It made you think this game wasn’t so bad.

“That was hot.” Murmured that raspy voice.

“Trevor, shut up. No creepy shit.”

“Whatever, Mikey. It’s your turn.”

Michael grumbled something you couldn’t hear and spun the bottle. He sipped his beer and waited for it to stop, and when it did, it was pointing at Bradley. The table was in hysterics.

“Are you fucking kidding me!” The blonde man was in disbelief, “I have to kiss another dude?”

“Just my luck, hm?” Mikey said to Amanda before she urged him to do it, for the games sake.

Trevor clapped his hands, oddly excited to see his two friends kiss in front of him. You’ve been observing him and the way his eyes lit up, them pupils dilating when the game proceeds. He was definitely aroused. You could tell.

“C’mon you guys!”

“Trevor, bro, just shut up!” Brad whined. He shook his head and leaned across the table, closer to Mikey who was also hesitant. They cringed before kissing for a split second and moving away from each other straight after.

You covered your mouth and chuckled.

“You are both fuckin’ pussies!” Trevor cried with distaste, “That weren’t even a fuckin’ kiss!”

Amanda rushed to her boyfriends rescue, “It’s your turn! Go!”

“Oh? You want some, Amand?” He grinned at her.

“Don’t be disgusting, Trevor.”

“Yeah, yeah. Fine, my turn.”

And then your heart only grew more unbearably nerved. His red, bruised hands spun that green bottle. He was right opposite you as well so you saw that concentrated stare in his rugged face. The way he leaned down to spin, some hair strands fell in his face, giving him a really pirated look…

He bit his lip and impatiently waited until it stopped.

You felt your whole body grow paraylsed. That neck, that tip of the damn bottle was facing you. It was just your luck, your VERY luck.

“Oh?” That cat-like smirk grew more perverted, “Look who it is, [y/n]…”

Looking into Trevor’s eyes felt like a Deathwish on it’s own. He was eye-fucking you so hard, it made you shiver. Them cold, dark, brown eyes. They were unmatched, so scary, so intimidating.

“I guess it is.” You slowly spelled out.

“How come Trevor gets the hot chic – “ Bradley’s face was suddenly muffled by Trevor’s hardened hands. He didn’t even look away from you though. He kept his sights fixated on you.

“You’re a lucky girl, [y/n].”

“If you say so.”

“I say so.” He murmured and stood up. His lean figure hovered over the table; his efforts to be closer. This was pressuring enough to make you meet him half-way, but when you tried, he was already pining you against your seat.

The group all watched as Trevor practically climbed over the table just to meet with you. Desperation depicted his sly grin. Them cruel fingers had wrapped themselves around your wrists, trapping you.

“You ready?” His voice purred in your ear.

“Oh my God, stop being a freak!” Amanda was disgusted. She exchanged glances with Michael who was equally as disturbed.

Trevor raised an eyebrow and gave her a side eye, “You wished Michael was this intense and romantic, Mandy. Don’t even start.”

“Excuse me? – “

“You heard me. Now shut up while I give [y/n] a kiss, yeah? That’s a great idea, ain’t it?”

Everyone was dead silent before he returned his attention to you and sighed in your neck.

“Sorry ‘bout that. Anyways, let’s continue the game, ay?” He licked his lips and stared down at yours.

His breath stunk of alcohol, weed, cigarettes, and… Weird metal? You didn’t even want to know. He was bizarre, completely out of your league! You’ve never seen a guy so unpredictable and manic. However, a part of you found it admirable. Inhaling deeply, you gave him what he wanted and kissed his lips.

For you, it lasted hours. Trevor kissed back with passion, his tongue wasting no time and forcing itself into your mouth. You thought to yourself for a brief second; it was only supposed to be a kiss? Why are you letting him passionately make out with you? Why are you enjoying it? At this point, he was properly pushing his weight onto your chair, his shoulders hiding you from everyone’s sights as his face was smashed against yours. You couldn’t help but wrap your arms around them masculine shoulders and keep him close, your hands mindlessly tugging at his mullet until someone had separated you both from any further “activities.”

“Fucking Hell, T!” Michael pulled Trevor away from you, both your lips swollen and red.

“What?” He asked breathlessly, “We were just kissing?”

“Kissing? You were eating each other’s faces!”

“You wish you were me, Bradley.”

“Okay, okay, uhh! Can we just… Carry on with the game? From what I last remembered, it’s my turn.” Amanda tried her best to convert the awkward situation. She waited as Trevor walked back to his seat, a look of disappointment on his face after being separated from you.

She placed her cup down and spun the bottle. Michael was watched intently, clearly growing a bit nervous in case she had to kiss either Trev or Brad. He hoped it would be him.

“C’mon, c’mon…” He’d unconsciously hum out loud.

The bottle stopped and you bit into your tongue. It landed on you again.

Amanda chuckled softly and shrugged, “I’m thankful it’s you, [y/n], and not them two chumps.”

“Woah, watch your tongue!” Brad winked. She returned the wink. You had sensed some sort of tension between the two, and so did Michael. He looked at them both, his face growing angered.

You decided to step in and avoid any conflicts.

“Okay, I guess we have to kiss, Mandy.”

She glanced away from Bradley and nodded. You felt Trevor’s eager eyes as you two both kissed and giggled afterwards. Amanda kissed your cheek in a friendly manner before returning to the game.

You had made eye-contact with him again and he smirked. His lips were still swollen but this time, there was a predatory danger behind his pupils. He pointed to your black dress and made a sexual had gesture of a penis and pussy. Your cheeks grew red. The childish flirting actually made you flustered? What has this man done to you…

“Okay, I guess it’s my turn again.” Brad mused.

“Woah, woah – “ You interrupted, “You missed Michael. It’s his turn.”

“Oh, don’t worry about me. Go ahead, Brad. I don’t care.”

“Too scared to kiss me, Mikey?” Trevor pouted playfully.

“If I kissed you, I’d catch STDs.”

“Mmm… Not from what I rememb – “

“Okay, Brad go.” Michael quickly disengaged his friend from confessing something that had quickly caught your undying attention. Not from what I remember? You smelt something fishy between them two, but decided not to ask any further questions considering the game was still playing.

Bradley spun the bottle and bounced up and down in his seat. He looked hopeful this time. He was had his fingers crossed.

“Strain anymore and you’re gonna shit yourself.” Your other friend joked, earning a small laugh from Michael.

“Don’t ruin my strive, girl.” He whispered and went wide-eyed when it stopped. The person it face was revealed to be Amanda, and Michael’s amusements fell into despair.

“What?”

“It’s just a kiss, Mikey.” Brad mentioned. It wasn’t helpful at how casual he felt about kissing his friends darling.

“No, not Mandy.” He refused.

“Let her have some fun – “

“Wait… You have the hots for her?” Michael was beginning to get more enraged, “Dude, that’s my fucking girlfriend! Amanda? What the fuck is this? Trevor, bro?” He looked at Trevor with pled.

“What? I don’t know what’s fuckin’ going on.” He huskily uttered from the opposite side of the table.

“Mikey, it’s nothin’! It’s just a kiss!”

“Bradley, I swear to fuck! – “

“Michael!” Amanda held onto his shirt, “Just sit down, please! You are overreacting.”

“Overreacting? Amand, he’s a fucking chump!”

You played around with the green bottle as the game was probably ruined now. Nonetheless, you looked at the clock and decided to leave sooner than later. Whispering to the other friend, you told her about leaving soon and she agreed. The three of them were still fighting; the tension growing, so you stood up and began to collect your things.

Trevor was daydreaming until he’s noticed you stand. He tilted his head and gave you a small frown.

“Where you going, [y/n]?”

You gave him a small smile, “I’m gonna go soon and catch a taxi home.”

“Nah, nah…” He immediately stood as well and rushed over, “Don’t leave me. Can I catch the taxi with you? I ain’t driving back with these pricks.”

“Where abouts do you live?”

“Uhh… I’m renting this motel room with the boys.”

You were holding your leather jacket before he grabbed it and placed it back onto your seat. He sounded more needy now.

“Don’t leave right now. We can sit in one of those booths at the back and get some drinks on, ay?”

“I’d love to, Trevor, but – “

“C’mon… Don’t leave, not after what happened,” He gave you a knowing smirk, “I don’t like pretty girls playing with my heart. I wanna… Get to know you more.”

And you knew exactly what he meant. From the way he was staring down at your dress, it was super clear what he was referring to. You were fluttered. You shouldn’t be though, from what you saw earlier, he was a nutjob.

But he was dashingly irresistible. You studied his facial features again and reintroduced yourself with his scars and classic 70s porno stache. Then you remembered the feeling of his mullet between your fingers. He had oddly soft hair despite the balding and split-ends. You didn’t want to admit it, but he was handsome.

“You like what you see?” He caught interest in your staring.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“Don’t apologise. I like it when you look at me.” Trevor whispered and stepped closer. He sneakily outstretched an arm to fit around your waist. He ogled your figure again before tugging you closer so your chests were touching. He had to look down (due to height difference), and he smirked.

“You’re a sexy piece of work. If them cunts didn’t stop me, your dress would’ve been ripped off by now.”

God damn, is what you thought. He was extremely bold and confident. It was too attractive.

“You like that idea?” He purred against your forehead.

Suddenly, the background noise of arguing had disappeared. You were too focussed on Trevor that your whole world, right there, revolved around him.

“Mhm…” You nodded.

“Atta girl. You know, from what I can see, you’d be the hottest on top of me.”

“On top?”

“Yeah, babe. Don’t think I can’t see that fire burning from beneath your eyes. You got that power, I felt it before, I wanna feel it again.”

“Oh God…” You exhaled, your stomach burning up with arousal.

“I’m gonna be honest, [y/n], I won’t make it back at my motel…” Trevor admitted with a grin. His free hand moved to his growing bulge, groping himself.

“Can’t you now?”

“Yeah, ma’am, I can’t.” He growled in your ear.

“Oh, you’re calling me ma’am now?”

“What’s wrong with that?”

You chuckled softly, “Nothing…”

“It sounded like you were complaining.” His grip around your waist tightened as he began moving you both towards the booths.

“I weren’t complaining.”

“Good,” Trevor lets go before jumping onto the leather seats and lying down, “C’mere…” He made grabby hands, his boner visible for you to see.

You hesitantly crawled onto his lap until he grabbed your hips, helping you get comfortable. You sat inches away from his boner and smiled down at him. He seemed to be enjoying your weight.

“Are they still fighting each other?” He’d lowly ask.

To answer his question, you peeked out of the booth and saw them still at each other’s throats.

“Yes, they are.”

“Goodio…” Trevor grabbed the straps of your dress and dragged it down your arms, your chest being exposed willingly. He’d giggle like a child when you were seen without a bra. Your tits were inches away from his face and he began licking the nipples.

You held in a whimper, “Are you sure they won’t see us?”

He didn’t respond. He ripped your dress off fully and yanked you so you were practically lying on him. Your breasts, already caked in his saliva, was suffocating his face as he licked and nibbled every ounce of your skin. The warmth of his tongue made you chew your inner mouth to restrain a moan.

“I knew you had a smashing body under that dress, I could sense it.” Trevor finally murmured, moving his way up your chest to your neck. He smothered your neck with hickeys and bite marks.

“Oh God…”

“You sound perfect, ma’am,” He pressed a kiss against your jaw before unzipping his flies, “I want you. I need you, so bad.”

You straightened your back and sat on his crotch as he freed himself from those jeans he wore. The moment you saw his cock, you traced your fingertip over his tip. Length never mattered to you, so it really didn’t surprise you when he wasn’t big. Trevor didn’t seem to care either – it was attractive.

“Say yes to me.” He pled, staring through his eyebrows.

“What happens if I say yes?” You decided to tease.

His dick twitched at your taunts.

“I want you to ride me, [y/n]. Ride me – “

“Manners?”

He groaned, “Whaaaaaat?”

“Did your mother not teach your manners?”

Sensitive topic, it made him wince and pout. Trevor stayed silent. You noticed how he refused to look at you in the eye. All his confidence dropped when you mentioned his mother. He just continued eye-fucking you and caressing your breasts.

“Trevor?” You broke the silence.

“[y/n],” The way he slurred your name, “Fucking ride me. I ain’t gonna ask twice.”

“But you already asked me twice…”

“You’re starting to piss me off, sugar. Don’t fuck with me.”

“You’re asking me to fuck you.” You pointed out. While in heat, you warmed up his erected cock with your hands. Whether you were prepared, Trevor arched his back and groaned heavily. You didn’t realise how sensitive he was, especially from a handjob.

“Oh, yes… Yes, I like that,” He panted, “Keep going, keep going!”

You grinned and used this for your advantage. He was vulnerable. You pretended to stroke his cock before raising your palm and slapping the tip.

His back arched in pain, “FUCK!” Trevor roared.

You did it again; seeing the same reaction.

“Fuck, oh yeah! OH, SHIT!” He was a hot mess. Every time you slapped his length, he’d only squirm and moan like no one else was in the room. Wrong. People were in the room, but you weren’t bothered anymore. Maybe this crazed guy was more fun than you thought. If only you knew how whiney he was before the game, you wouldn’t be too nervous around him then.

“Take your top off.” You ordered softly.

“Ah… Ah, uh?” Trevor glanced up, his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, “My top?”

“Yes.”

He breathed in and out heavily. You had to help him take off his leather jacket and shirt as he was left shirtless, for your taste. He had a hairy chest, quite skinny but oddly muscular. However, the beers he had that day made his stomach bloated so you were greeted with a small, hairy pouch. You trailed your finger across it, using your nail, making him whine and whimper.

“Ohhhh, you’re fuckin’ with me…”

“You wanted me to.”

Trevor glared lustfully at you, “Jesus… You’re too fuckin’ hot, [y/n].”

“Just lie back. You wanted me to ride you, yeah?”

“Yes, yes, yes! I want, I want! I want! Gimme! – “

“Shush.” You pressed a finger against his wet lips.

Trevor raised an eyebrow but stayed quiet. Authority wasn’t his cup of tea, yet he seemed content to follow your commands. He scratched his stache before lying down and holding onto your hips, ready.

“I hope they see this though…” He’d cheekily oppose as you sat down onto his naked lap, his boner painfully fucking your clit.

You nibbled your bottom lip and closed your eyes. You grabbed his penis and used it to cause friction against your clit until you were both squirming against each other.

“Nah, stop… Stop fuckin’ edging me!”

“Easy… Easy…” You’d attempt to calm him. Trevor was growing breathless already. He was arching his back, grabbing the table, jerking his hips up; he was doing everything he could to resist your playfulness.

“Oh, fuck… Nah, do it, please. I won’t be able to last, [y/n].”

You took his words for granted and sat down, your crotches interacting. Once he was fully fucking your insides, volume didn’t seem like a boundary. You’d moan his name and begin to bounce.

“Oh! Yes, God, you’re so fuckin’ wet!” Trevor heaved and migrated his hands from your waist to your jiggling breasts. He squeezed them like a squish toy, making ungodly sounds, varying from grunts to outrageous gags.

“Trevor, ah!” You held onto his wrists and bounced faster.

“Ma’am, ma! – “

“Shit, fuck… Mhm…” His cock would bury itself deeper after he allowed you to dig into him. You couldn’t believe you were having sex with him, you just met him a few hours ago? Comparing his appearance from the second you met him, his mullet was draped in sweat, his dark eyes were dazed and unconscious, his stache was ruffled from the intense kissing. To cut it short, he was ruined.

And it was your fault.

“Yeah, yeah! Oh yeah!” Trevor whined, “C’mon! Give it to me! Your cunt is so fuckin’ sexy, oh yeah!”

You swore the room gotten more quiet as Trevor’s moans echoed. Nonetheless, you ignored it while riding him because the sensation was heavy. It felt like you needed to cum already. Your stomach was dominated with butterflies and Trevor’s cock was furiously twitching and pulsing.

You’d peer down at him with a honest, pleasured smile. Your tongue sat on your bottom lip until it was confirmed that you were climaxing.

“Oh fuck…”

“I’m gonna fuckin’ cum in your pussy!” Trevor – as per usual – was expressive. He kept you riding him as you both choked out some groans, your orgasm meeting with his. His dick loaded an impressive ton of cum inside your cunt, the spillage making you whimper his name.

“Shit, shit…” You breathed.

“More, more!”

“Oh God, okay.”

He sat up and stared at you with a perverted smirk.

“What?” You’d frown.

“Sit on my face.”

“Huh?”

Trevor used his strength and lifted you up from his lap and crawled under. You gasped when he was directly under your cum-soaked pussy. You felt his eyes stab Hell into it.

“Fuckin’ sit on me, [y/n]…” He growled, hands clasping your thighs.

The booth seats were rattling when you lowered yourself onto him. Trevor was still lying on the leather seats, forcing you to hover over his face. Of course, you used the table beside you for stability and in front of you was the whole bar. It was empty, calming your thoughts after the anxiety that more people would come by for a few beers.

“Gimme a piece of your fuckin’ cunt, ma’am.” Was the last thing Trevor muffled before stuffing his mouth into your abused pussy. His tongue, so unreally long, licked up the traces of his own semen after he had filled you up.

You squirmed and gripped onto the table. Your tits were hanging, his handprints marking red bruises all over your chest and neck (not forgetting the amount of hickeys).

“Oh, fuck…” You gulped and looked over your shoulder as you heard rubbing noises. Trevor was jacking himself off when face-fucking you. He was brutal. You watched him interrogate his poor cock like it was replaceable.

“Argh!” He muffled a cry in your cunt.

“Trevor, oh my! – “

You turned around again and went wide eyed when you noticed the group.

They were still there.

“Trevor, they are here – FUCK!” He dismissed your concerns by tongue-fucking you to death. You pathetically moaned, accidentally making eye-contact with Michael who was disturbed beyond belief.

They all grabbed their things and headed towards the exit. You watched in guilt, but at the same time, you were too aroused to care. You began to grind against Trevor’s mouth. His moustache had left rashes upon your thighs and flaps. It was burning hot, it was making you overstimulated – beautifully overstimulated. You wanted more to feel, more to cum to.

“Oh, yeah! Trevor!”

Bradley was the last to leave. Unlike the others, he smirked and gave you a wink. It was an uncomfortable gesture. He was as weird as Trevor, in that creepy way, and you knew when you finish and part ways, he’s going to get questioned about… Your “activities” that they had accidentally walked in to.

“Fuck! Oh yeah!”

You constantly looked over your shoulder to see him orgasming many times. There was a puddle of semen on his stomach. His sensitivity had made him cum when you sat on his face. He had cum when jacking off. He had cum to the thought and feeling of you. It was hard to hear him orgasm considering he was being strangled by your pussy, but in a way, you’d feel his tongue shake with anticipation.

“I- I’m gonna…” You pushed harder against him, “I’m gonna cum!”

Trevor was crawling under your skin, his tongue was torture to your poor cunt. He wasn’t gentle at all. He was beating you to a pimp until you came.

And it was a drastic, messy, unstainable orgasm.

“FUUUUCKK!” You sobbed and trembled.

He licked up the cum that drained into his mouth. He slurped, you heard this, and he slurped again, and again, and again.

“Oh… Oh, my God…”

Trevor’s tongue departed from your sex before pressing hot kisses in your inner thighs, freeing himself from between your legs. He gasped for the fresh air and stared up at you. There were drooled, white liquids oozing from his lips and chin. He grabbed your jaw and pulled your head down, kissing your lips. You tasted your own cum and moaned. Trevor passionately made love to your lips until he pulled away and ruffled up his mullet.

“You tasted like heaven on a golden platter, ma’am…” He giggled dazedly.

You followed the way he tangled up his hair and reached over, stroking it. You draped your fingers across his scalp.

“Mm…” Trevor murmured and closed his eyes, “That’s nice…”

“I like your hair.”

“Oh yeah? I like your tits.”

“Ahh…” You chuckled and felt him knead them with his bare palms again.

“And your pretty little face…”

“That was intense.”

He giggled, “Oh, you’ve seen nothin’ ye – “

“Trevor!” A loud voice interrupting your conversation. Brad was at the bar exit, his face bored, “Bro! C’mon! You finished your little fuck-fest. The fucking taxi is here, hurry up already!”

Trevor glared at Bradley as he crawled out of the booth, putting his cock away and throwing on his shirt again.

“Fuckin’ Bastard…” He whispered to no one in general before helping you zip up your dress and made you look… At least punctual when seeing the rest (who’s shamefully experienced your momentary sex).

“We were long.” You smiled.

“Yeah, but I wanted more time.”

“We will soon.”

Trevor winked and nudged you, “You bet your ass…”

You made your way out of the bar and was greeted with the uncomfortable atmosphere. Mikey was sending stares of Satan at Trevor while Amanda was biting her lips, trying to ignore what she saw.

“I’m here. Now what?” Trevor muttered grumpily.

“Excuse me, ma’am…” You went wide eyed when Brad used the term “ma’am”, almost tormenting you both, “Would you like a ride home with us?”

“Bradley, I swear to fuckin’ God, I’ll kill you.”

“I can’t believe you said ma’am during sex, bro!”

Trevor went to punch him until Michael held him back. He effortlessly held onto the collar of his jacket before the taxi finally arrived, and by then, you decided walking was safer than… A carpool with these heathens.

“You aren’t joining us?” Amanda asked, sitting in the front.

You shook your head.

“No, rephrase that… You ain’t coming?”

“Brad!” T shoved his friend into the car before crawling inside after him.

“Go say goodbye to your madam!

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” You heard him scream, then he rolled down the windows and winked, “My motel room is down the main-road West… Show up any time, sugar.”

“Trevor, get your own room! We share that room!” Michael protested.

“Pussy…”

“[y/n], is Trevor’s dick small?” Brad tried to shout over the noise of the engine.

“FUCK OFF, CUNT!” Trevor battered him again.

“Jesus Christ… Get home safe, [y/n].” Mikey muttered before their taxi drove off, leaving you embarrassed, excited…

And fucking sore.

[creative-caramel-coffee]

Stuck storming

Pairings: Weems x R (Platonic)

Word count: 2.7K

Summary: You and Weems get stuck in Burlington. Luckily Weems has somewhere for you to stay. However unluckily you get sick.

TW: flooding, sickness (like flu symptoms), prescription meds, anxiety, medicine

A/n there will be a part 2 to this but the whole thing was too long (in my opinion) to post as just one chapter/post. And I felt I needed it to be long to get in all the good stuff.

The rain smashed against the windshield and the wind blew relentlessly. You and the headmistress had been on your way back from Burlington when you got the storm warning. Principal Weems had been hoping to make it back to nevermore before the roads flooded. All the two of you had was her laptop, your sketchbook, a pencil-case, her work planner, both of your wallets with various amounts of cash and credit cards, your uniform and the clothes on your back. If you got stuck there really wasn’t too much to do until you made it back. You had left your phone in your dorm, but you were pretty sure that principal Weems had hers in the pocket of her white blazer. Luckily you had the foresight to bring a single change of mildly comfy clothes for the drive back, not eager to sit in the car for hours in your stiff uniform.

You felt bad, it was partly your fault the two of you were in this situation. It had begun when your art teacher had posed the idea to Larissa during a staff meeting to enter the best of the art classes works into the annual competition at Burlington. When she had received a call back a few weeks later she was pleasantly surprised to hear you had won. She had yet to see the artworks as she had simply given the teacher permission before she was wrapped up in work again.

As a part of the prize, the winner had their work exhibited at the art museum and the company hosted an event of their donors, other artists and art critics. It was a good way for the school to show face and even potentially scope for new donors. When Larissa had seen your artwork, a large painting of nevermore, she loved it. It was done in acrylic paints set at sunrise with the colours bouncing off the stone walls. She offered you money for it to hang in the school, but you declined saying she could have it for free as it was too large to take home with you after the school year.

Larissa had chatted idly with the other high-end members of society, and you showed face and awkwardly thanked people when they complimented your art. You honestly had no idea why you had agreed to enter, praise was not something you were very good with receiving. Larissa seemed to notice and often helped change the topic for you.

After around a stuff half hour of pleasantries and fake smiles you took your sketchbook and hid out further in the gallery to sketch. After a while Larissa came and sat with you before the event ended and you said your goodbyes. You changed in the gallery bathrooms and put your folded uniform in your backpack around your sketchbook to protect it from the rain that was starting outside. The backpack wasn’t waterproof.

However now it seemed you weren’t going to be making it back today or maybe even tomorrow. You had had a lucky run so far but coming across one of the creeks it had risen above the bridge. Effectively flooding and meaning you would have to stay in Burlington for the night. Larissa sighed.

“Sorry darling. Looks like we’re staying for the night.” She said apologetically.

“It's alright you didn’t cause the rain.” You smiled.

“I guess you're right.” She said and put the car into gear.

After the drive back you pulled into a parking lot in front of a what seemed to be an apartment complex.

“Um is this a hotel?” You asked, confused. Larissa laughed softly.

“No darling. This is my apartment.” You looked at her surprised. “I often have conferences in Burlington and so do other teachers, a few years ago we raised funds to buy and apartment so teachers could save costs and opt for something other than a stiff hotel mattress for however many nights they would be staying.”

“Cool.” You said.

“I’ll go find a park you go into the warm.” She said pulling up by the front door. You nodded and got out. Larissa went to park, and you found the door locked. With no other option you clutched your bag to your chest and stood in the rain waiting. After a few minutes Larissa came hurrying over.

“Darling? What are you doing outside still?” She asked concerned.

“L-locked” you stuttered and she mentally facepalmed, it was after five of course it was locked. She quickly put in the code and ushered you inside. You were freezing your teeth chattering and you began to worry you were going to get sick from the rain and the cold.

“Come, we need to warm you up.” The principal said and pulled you into an elevator. She pressed a button and pulled you into her side with an arm around your shoulder in an attempt to keep you warm. She ran her hand up and down the sleeve of your soaked hoodie to try and get some warmth from the friction.

After what felt like ages, the lift stopped, and Larissa put in another code. Explaining that each floor was an apartment so each level had its own code so only those who lived there could get in. After a minute a small light above the keypad went green and the door shuddered open. You stepped out after Larissa, and she turned on the light. The place was clean and very modern. White walls and grey stone bench tops. There was a kitchen with a fridge, oven and microwave which was in an open plan living room. There were ceiling to floor windows in the living room which looked out on the city below. There was a dining table and couch and a tv. Down the corridor you assumed were bedrooms, bathrooms and maybe a laundry room.

“Go hope in the shower love. First bedroom on the right. It had an ensuite. I’ll leave you some of the spare clothes i keep here on the bed for when your done and we can put those in the dryer after.” She said setting her bag down on the table. You nodded and scurried off. You left your bag just inside the bedroom door. You checked your sketchbook was ok and thanked god that you had the foresight to wrap it in your uniform, which had kept it dry.

You stripped of the soaking wet clothes which were heavy with water and stepped into the steaming shower. You shivered at the contact the warm water made with your skin. It felt amazing. Using the soap which smelt suspiciously like your principal, you also washed your hair. After a thorough shower you stepped out and towel dried your hair. Carefully opening the door wrapped only in a towel you peaked out. Just as promised, principal Weems had left you a shirt which was too big on you and fell to your mid thighs but was comfy and soft. She had also left a pair of tracksuit pants with a drawstring that you couldn’t imagine her wearing no matter how hard you tried. You put the clothes on and looked n the mirror. A bit baggy on you but you rolled up the cuffs of the pants and it was fine. You were mildly surprised to see the t-shirt was an old band t-shirt which looked like it was from the 80s based on the words on the back. “Rolling stones world tour 1987” was printed in big letters and you giggled imagining your hard-working principal dancing around in a crowd at what would have probably been a rave.

After warming yourself up, you groaned as you realised the pressure in your head wasn’t from the heat but another reason. The beginnings of a headache budded behind your eyes, and you pressed the heel of your palm to them in an attempt to stop it. You sniffled and the pressure in your sinuses grew.

“Dammit” you cursed. How were you supposed to survive in close quarters with your principal when sick? Normally you isolated yourself and looked after your own body until you were better. But you doubted you would be able to do that or hide the sickness from Larissa.

Heaving a sigh, you opened the bedroom door and wandered back into the living room. The principal was sat with a mug of hot chocolate and there was a second one on the coffee table. She was scrolling through Netflix, and you plopped down beside her. She raised a brow but didn’t comment, opting for another sip of the chocolate drink. She gestured towards the mug, and you thanked her and cradled the warm drink in your hands. Taking careful sip incase it was hot, the blissful taste of liquid chocolate smoother than silk and rich as honey flooded your mouth. You let out a small noise of content and Larissa laughed making you blush slightly.

“It's my own special stash. I keep it for after stressful conferences. I get it imported from Switzerland.” She said and you looked at her wide eyed.

“The Swedes?” You asked and she laughed again and nodded. “Well, they certainly make good chocolate. And I’m happy I get to have it again. Thank you principal weems.” You said and she smiled softly at you.

“No problem darling.” She said

“Reminds me of home.” You said with a sigh.

“How so?” She questioned after settling on a studio Ghibli film and lowering the volume to continue the conversation.

“First of,” you began “you have excellent taste in Tv. Second, despite only ever visiting Austria, it runs in my blood. I have Austrian heritage and so at home we have a lot of Austrian food. I learnt to speak German as a kid but i don’t remember to much of it, just enough to get by.” You said and she looked at you impressed.

“Germans not an easy language to learn as a kid.” She said and you shrugged.

“I guess just… you know, talking about Europe reminds me of home. Plus, I traveled across Europe with my family as a child. I’ve even been to Switzerland and tasted their fondue firsthand.” You said with a smile.

“Im jealous.” Principle weems said. “Their cheese and chocolate are what their best at.”

“Oh, and don’t i know it.” You smiled. After a natural lull in the conversation the principal turned up the volume slightly and you curled up on the couch to get comfy. Larissa spared you a glance every now and then to check on you but you seemed content.

You didn’t remember falling asleep when you woke up. But there was no better way to wake up than to the smell of pancakes. You popped your head up to look over the back of the couch into the kitchen and smiled. The principal was dancing slightly as she cooked and looked up and met your eyes, blushing slightly at being caught.

“Good morning darling.” She said flipping another of the pancakes. “You were sleeping in late so i went to the shops and got us some food. It looks like we’re not leave anytime soon.” She said and you looked to the window. The rain still coming down hard. “I’ve contacted the school and your friends to let them know we are ok. Luckily i have my laptop and it didn’t get wet so I can always work remotely. You can do whatever you want today. Other than leave the apartment.” She smiled. “Im afraid I don’t have much here to do but there’s always the Tv and i have a random assortment of stationery you can use for art.” She smiled and you nodded and rubbed tiredly at your eyes stifling a yawn.

You felt worse today. The headache had fully set in, bordering on migraine territory. Your throat felt raw, and your head felt like it was packed with a lovely sand and cotton blended concrete that would probably only be sold as a torture device in the seventh circle of hell itself. Even after rubbing the sleep from your eyes and blinking the light hurt a bit and your head was swimming. It was feeling a bit too warm in here, but you opted to ignore that and focus on the idea of food. After a minute you stood and sat at the table. Larissa came over a minute later and put down three plates. Two empty and one piled high with a stack of breakfasty goodness. She handed you a glass of apple juice and you thanked her.

After eating some of the pancakes and drowning them in the sticky syrup the principle had provided you paused eyes wide, made chew.

“Shit.” You said and the principal paused.

“Ms L/n-“ she began but you cut her off.

“I don’t have my anxiety meds with me.” You said sounding slightly panicked. Larissa paled slightly.

“Darling?” She said slowly and carefully. “What happens if you don’t take them?” She looked almost scared.

“Oh, i’ll be fine. A bit more anxious than i like to be. But fine.” You said coming to terms with it.

“Hmmm.” The principal hummed. “Are they prescription?” She asked and you nodded. “I’ll see if i can get the nurse to send a script to the local pharmacy that’s just down the road. And i’ll pick them up for you. When do you need them by?” She asked looking at her watch.

“Preferable as soon as possible but i can wait.” You said poking at the food on your plate. It seemed like the room was getting hotter and it was getting harder to downplay the congestion in your voice. The excuse of sleep was quickly running out. After another pause, she spoke again.

“I’ll grab them after breakfast then.” She said, “do you want to come with?” The principal asked and you knew saying no would either be rude or suspicious, so you nodded. After you had eaten the uncomfortable heat had seemingly only gotten worse. You were speaking less now, and you felt principal Weems’s stare burning into your back as you watched the rain from the couch as she washed up. You knew she was getting a little suspicious now and the sickness was getting harder to hide.

After putting the dishes away, freshly hand dried and scrubbed Larissa came over to you. Placing a hand on your shoulder she frowned at the heat coming from you, but you quickly turned around and spoke before she could.

“Ready to go?” You asked hoping to sound more put together than you felt.

“Sure. Let me grab my car keys.” She said and decided to let the matter go for now. She grabbed an umbrella and the two of you went down to the car.

For some reason even the car was hot. When the principal wasn’t looking you pressed your overly hot forehead to the cool glass of the window and sighed slightly. However sneaky you thought you were being; you weren’t. Simple as that. The principal had been around more than enough stubborn teenagers to know when they were sick. Pulling into the chemist she unbuckled at reached over to press her hand to your cheek. Your eyes were closed so you jumped slightly at the unexpected contact. She clicked her tongue and sighed.

“Darling why didn’t you tell me you were sick?” She asked, her tone was gentle but stern. You turned to look at her alarmed which she thought was strangely endearing. Your cheeks held the flushed pink of a fever, and your eyes were growing glassy.

“I-i didn’t want to make you worry about me.” You admitted softly and she sighed.

“Darling it’s my job. And i also care about you.” She said softly. “I’ll pick up some medicine and supplies while I’m in the pharmacy. You stay here and hold down the fort.” She said and you hummed, placing your face against the glass again, eyes fluttering shut. The principal frowned; she had been expecting to have to fight you on it. Concerned she made a mental note to be quick.

MASTERLIST