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weemssapphic · 6 months

Note

I see you opened your requests hehehe. This little idea popped into my head and i can’t get it out. So it’s larissa x reader and r is the new principal since everyone thought larissa died but tn tn tnnnn she’s alive and she comes back to nevermore but only as a professor since they already hired r which doesn’t sit right with larissa and she automatically doesn’t like r. So they bicker all the time until they just hate fuck one day (how it came to that point is totally up to you) and pleaseeee i need them to fuck the shit out of eachother. Then when it’s done r admits that she would much rather just be a professor, that being principal is too much for her and she’ll back down from the position.

Anywaysss that’s it and make it as long as you want if you decide to write it :) (love all of your work btw)

A/N: I AM SO SORRY FOR HOW LONG THIS TOOK (*hides in shame*). I do hope this makes up for it, I found it very fun to write and, though it took a different turn than I'd originally planned, I am happy with how it turned out! And thank you so much 🤍

like a candle flame

Larissa Weems x f!reader

Words: ~ 7.5k | ao3 link in title

Content/warnings: angst, lots of bickering and arguments, enemies to lovers (sorta), unhealthy relationship / power dynamic, coma, mentions of ptsd/anxiety??, nsfw (smut): hate sex, rough sex, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, marking

Principal of Nevermore Academy: it certainly had a nice ring to it.

The past years all led up to this: after finishing university and getting your masters in education, you’d scored a teaching position at a school for outcasts in California. Being an outcast yourself, you were grateful for the opportunity that had opened up - teaching was a passion of yours, certainly, but teaching outcasts, kids like you, that was a dream come true. Eventually, you took over assistant principal duties at the school and you had to admit you liked the change of pace, being involved in the administrative side of things for once.

During your time in California, you’d set your eye on Nevermore Academy - another prestigious school for outcasts, the first school of its kind. And when you’d heard of an opening for a new principal? You just had to apply. The position was posted at rather short notice - apparently, there had been an incident involving the previous principal, who’d been in a coma for weeks and hadn’t shown any signs of recovering. They needed to find someone to fill in for the new school year - fast - and, as though it were fate, your application was immediately accepted.

The school year at Nevermore had been going on for a few weeks now and your new office was finally starting to feel like your own. You’d made a few changes in decoration - some of the prior principal’s decor was a bit odd for your taste. But you were settling in well, getting to know your duties and connecting with your staff and students.

You were just catching up on some emails as the door to your office flew open, rattling in its hinges and causing you to jump, your heart racing.

“Jesus, you scared me! Haven’t you heard of knocking?” You fixed your gaze on the woman who had so unceremoniously barged into your office and was now taking long strides towards your desk. She was a stunning woman - tall, with long legs; dressed to the nines; her hair nearly white and perfectly coiffed to accentuate her cheekbones; her eyes deep blue and sparkling with a deep fury.

“I don’t have to knock to enter my own office,” the woman hissed, her tone venomous.

Your brows knit together in confusion and you squinted at her, your mind going a mile a minute. Now that you thought of it, she did look vaguely familiar… Who the fuck- oh. Oh.

“You’re the former principal, aren’t you? I thought you were in a coma?” You figured the polite thing to do would be to ask how she’s doing, show some sign of concern, but she looked perfectly fine to you - and she didn’t seem in the mood to engage in small-talk, anyway - so you bit your tongue.

The woman’s eyes flashed dangerously, her upper lip twitching as she tilted her head. “Principal Weems. Headmistress of Nevermore Academy. Now if you’d be so kind as to get out of my chair…”

You stood slowly, placing your hands on your desk and leaning forward. While you didn’t quite match her height, you’d be damned if you let yourself be intimidated - you’d worked too hard for this position, wished for it too much, you wouldn’t let her take it from you, no matter who she thought she was.

“I’ve been appointed principal of Nevermore. This is now my office. If you have an issue with that, I’d like to kindly refer you directly to the school board.” You paused, raising an eyebrow and sorting some papers on your desk. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have meetings to prepare for.”

Principal Weems glowered down at you and you glared up at her, neither one of you seeming to want to back down. Her eyes flicked between your own, blazing with fury and passion in equal measure. Abruptly and without another word, she turned on her heel and stormed out of your office, slamming the door behind her.

Your eyes followed her every move as you stared after her, your heart thundering in your chest. The nerve of that woman. This was definitely not something you’d planned for - you hoped she wouldn’t cause too much trouble with the school board.

~~~

As expected, you received a call from the school board the next day - it seemed that the former principal had caused a bit of an uproar after she’d left your office. The head of the school board informed you that Ms. Weems, formerly Principal Weems, would be appointed to Nevermore as a history teacher. You figured the decision was made due to her connection with the school, but also to keep the peace. Even based on your short interaction from the previous day, you could guess the kind of hell she’d raised after leaving your office.

Given that her former quarters, which had been locked up for the time being, were attached to your new office, Ms. Weems would be appointed new quarters in the teacher’s hall as well until the end of the school year. What this meant, however, was that she would have to come by your office to pick some of her things up from her old quarters - which you were not looking forward to.

It was nearing 5 pm on a Friday - you still had a pile of administrative paperwork waiting to be completed, but you couldn’t concentrate for the life of you. You’d already cut your lunch break short to deal with the shenanigans of some students, and with the weekend so close your motivation to read through the documents the mayor had sent you was at an all time low. Slipping your phone from your pocket, you decided a break - just a short distraction, really - was in order, and started to scroll through your socials.

The door to your office creaked open - you figured it was a student who needed something and raised your head to reprimand them for forgetting to knock, only to be met with the sight of Ms. Weems. Larissa, as you’d read in her file. A beautiful name for an admittedly beautiful woman - too bad she seemed intent on loathing you. She stopped in the doorway, her lips curling into a disapproving frown.

“Hard at work, I see,” she sneered, closing the door behind her and giving you a once over, her eyes full of disdain as they lingered on the cell phone in your hands.

“I hardly see how this is any of your business,” you replied, your voice hard as you scowled back at her. Two could play at this game. “And if I may be so blunt, it’s rather rude not to knock before you enter someone else’s office. Particularly when that person is your superior.”

The blonde’s features hardened even further, her expression changing from disdainful to downright icy.

“Do not underestimate my connections in this town, Ms. Y/L/N. It would be a shame to see you lose your new position so suddenly.” Her voice was condescending, sickeningly sweet with a razor sharp edge to it - you tightened your grip on your phone, your knuckles turning white as you felt your heart begin to pound viciously.

“Is that a threat, Ms. Weems? And, while we’re on the subject of my position, I would prefer if you would address me as Principal Y/L/N from now on.”

“Not a threat. A promise.”

With that, she swept past your desk with an elegant yet powerful stride, swiftly unlocking the door to her former quarters and disappearing inside.

After what seemed like ages, Larissa emerged with two massive suitcases. You tried to ignore her and concentrate on your work, but it seemed she was deliberately being as noisy as possible, and that made it increasingly difficult to focus on anything else.

“You know what?” You stood from your desk, shutting your laptop and grabbing your phone and keys. “I’m going to head out to get some dinner. You just figure this” you gestured vaguely towards her quarters as you crossed the office “out.”

“Chivalrous,” Larissa remarked sarcastically as your hand rested on the doorknob - you turned and raised an eyebrow.

“You’ve been nothing but rude to me since the second we met. You want help? Call your friends or connections or something.” With that, you disappeared into the corridor, slamming the poor door behind you and missing the way Larissa’s face fell.

~~~

By the time you got back to your office late that night to lock up (and you’d taken your sweet time, not in the mood for any more altercations), Larissa was gone.

You barely slept that night - you were restless, tossing and turning constantly. You hated arguing with people - particularly your colleagues, which Larissa now was. Tomorrow was to be her first full day back at Nevermore, and it left you feeling unsettled and anxious.

Against all odds, the following morning was a quiet one. You’d half expected Larissa to barge into your office before lunchtime to scream at you about something, but no such outburst occurred. You’d gotten ahead of yourself, however - late that afternoon, the door to your office burst open, the tall blonde once again stalking towards your desk.

“Still having problems with the concept of knocking, I see,” you hissed, clenching your teeth.

Larissa glowered down at you, completely disregarding your statement - save for the subtle twitch of her upper lip.

“You really should adjust your tone when speaking with your staff, Principal Y/L/N.” She spat the word 'principal' at you as if it were laced with venom. “One might otherwise get the impression that you don’t respect them.” The right corner of Larissa’s lips curled up slightly into a condescending smile, and you felt a raging heat begin to boil in the pit of your stomach.

“It’s clear you don’t respect me, Ms. Weems,” you replied as coolly as you could. “But we both know that insulting me, no matter how much joy it may bring you, is not the reason you barged into my office. So. Why are you really here?”

“The planning of this year’s Rave’N.”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back in your chair and clasping your hands together on your lap as you waited for Larissa to continue.

“As you may know, Nevermore Academy has been built on a centuries old history of tradition. I have spent my career upholding those traditions that make up the very heart of this school, to uplift our students, our faculty, and our community.”

You ran your tongue along your upper teeth - you already knew where she was going with this, and you had to fight the urge to groan and roll your eyes.

“So imagine my surprise, and dare I say disappointment, when I found out that our new dearly beloved principal was planning on canceling the Rave’N. An activity that our students greatly look forward to and that is essential to this school’s extra-curricular framework…” Larissa trailed off, her own eyebrow quirked in challenge as icy blue eyes flashed dangerously.

Taking a moment to collect yourself, you let out a long sigh - God, this woman was irritating. “Ms. Weems, I have absolutely no intention of canceling the Rave’N. I am, however - as you may have heard - postponing it until the spring. I’m not certain where you got your information, but you may want to check your sources before you go around rashly pointing fingers at people.”

Larissa folded her arms defensively across her chest, her cheeks slowly turning red in hue. “The Rave’N has been held on the same weekend every year for nearly 200 years. What made you decide to break tradition?”

“It’s my humble opinion, Ms. Weems, that it isn’t working well at all. The Rave’N, the way it has traditionally been held, has consistently taken place a few short weeks before end of semester exams, squeezed unceremoniously between other events that are far more important for the Academy. The Poe Cup, for one - which is steeped in history, as you may rightfully agree, and which encourages healthy competition amongst our students. And, of course, Parent’s Weekend, which is essential for nurturing our wider outcast-community and involving our dear parents and alumni. The Rave’N, in contrast, is a frivolous school dance which, whilst certainly entertaining, wastes precious time that students could spend studying for their exams.”

Larissa looked like she was damn close to exploding on the spot. Her nostrils flared as she stared you down, her expression nothing short of disdain and utter disgust. When she spoke, red lips curled around brilliantly white teeth, which flashed dangerously in the light of the setting sun from the window behind you.

“I will not have you ruining this school, a place I have devoted my entire existence to, whilst you waltz in here and decide that it isn’t up to your arbitrary standards. Just because you don’t have the experience required to run a school and juggle multiple events at once, does not mean that they have been poorly planned. Rather, I believe this situation reflects your own shortcomings as an administrator.”

“Fine.” You grit your teeth - you’d have fired the woman on the spot if she hadn’t weaseled her way in through the school board. “You want to have your precious Rave’N this fall? You plan it then. I, however, want no part in it.”

Larissa let out a snort. “It’s nothing I can’t manage. And not to worry, I’ll leave you out of it.” With that, she turned and stalked back to the door, her hips swaying in an irritatingly tantalizing way - it made you furious.

“Oh, and Ms. Weems? If you barge into my office to insult me one more time, I will not hesitate to take this up with the school board.”

Larissa’s shoulders tensed and her hand paused on the door handle - then she yanked the door open and, once again, slammed it behind her.

Ridiculous.

~~~

Although Larissa had since refrained from bursting into your office unannounced for a verbal sparring match, the bickering continued full-force. You’d hoped it would get better as time went on, but the opposite proved to be true.

Thoughts of Larissa had begun to plague you wherever you went. You couldn’t avoid her - she was everywhere. She argued with you during every staff meeting, made a point to pass you in the hall every chance she got, chose a seat directly within your line of vision during lunchtime - taunting you wherever you went. You’d started to hide in your office during breaks simply to find some reprieve.

You’d even lie awake in bed at night, unable to get the infuriating blonde out of your head. The worst part was, it wasn’t just your anger and anxiety over the arguments and the disrespect that kept you from sleeping - it was the fact that, despite it all, you couldn’t get over the strange pull that you felt towards this woman, even as you’d begun to hide from her like a coward.

She was driving you utterly mad, in every sense of the word. When she argued with you, baring her teeth, her face contorted with rage, you wanted to slap her. Then, and it took you a few sleepless nights to admit it to yourself, you wanted to kiss her - you wanted to consume her, to smudge her lipstick and litter her body in purple marks, to push her up against a wall and fuck the rage out of her. You wanted to see the arrogant, furious, domineering Larissa Weems turn into a needy little slut, utterly at your mercy and begging you to cum, to please, please, let me cum-

You groaned in frustration, slipping a hand under the covers and into your underwear. Your cunt was absolutely drenched and you couldn’t take it anymore, rubbing hard and fast circles around your clit as you felt both shame and pleasure overwhelm you. Your imagination was your best friend as you pictured Larissa: her face flushed, her lipstick smeared down her chin, her milky thighs trembling and clenching around your hand as she rode your fingers - sinful moans being ripped from her throat because of you.

Your orgasm washed over you as you reached your peak - it came and went, and you pulled your fingers from your underwear and wiped them on the sheets. Embarrassment and regret welled up inside of you as you laid there alone in the darkness of your quarters, unable to stop your thoughts from drifting towards a certain former principal and what she might be doing in her quarters.

Sleeping, probably, you thought bitterly.

~~~

Each week proved to be more trying than the last, and you found yourself, more nights than not, lying awake until ungodly hours thinking about Larissa - touching yourself because of Larissa. The harder she made your life, the more you seemed to be consumed by her - and then, the next hurdle was thrown your way.

Part of your duty as principal was, of course, conducting performance evaluations of your staff. Since you were new at Nevermore and unfamiliar with the staff members, you’d had to pop into parts of their classes to observe and get a feel for their teaching - and most of the teachers welcomed this with open arms.

Larissa Weems was not like most of the teachers, though. Given how often she’d shown up in your office unannounced, you’d had no qualms about randomly popping into her last class of the day, closing the door gently behind you and taking a seat in the back row.

Larissa stopped teaching immediately, her proud, tender smile slipping from her face when she saw your face among the sea of students. “Can I help you, Principal Y/L/N?” Her voice quavered slightly, and the students turned around curiously, their eyes darting between you and Larissa.

“Don’t mind me, Ms. Weems,” you said with a forced smile. “I’m just observing for today. Just pretend I’m not even here.” You gave her a wink which had her lip twitching and her nostrils flaring - the tension between the two of you did not go unnoticed by the students, who were eerily quiet as Larissa resumed her lesson.

Before you’d made your presence known, Larissa had been smiling so warmly at her students - it was obvious how much she cared for them, and the energy in her classroom had felt inviting and kind. The shift in energy when you’d sat down was alarming - Larissa had turned into an ice queen almost instantly. You could tell she felt uncomfortable and tense, and her teaching was robotic and distracted. Her students didn’t seem to be very engaged either - it seemed that her mood had rubbed off on them, and a feeling of unease blanketed the room.

When the lesson was over, Larissa immediately turned to her desk to pack her things, her students filing out of the room in silence.

“Ms. Weems, I’d like to see you in my office in twenty minutes, please. I have something I’d like to discuss with you.” You didn’t wait for a reply before slipping out of the classroom and hurrying to your office.

~~~

Exactly twenty minutes later, a low knock sounded on your door - you were almost pleasantly surprised, but then Larissa barged in anyway, without waiting for you to respond, and you felt a twinge of annoyance bubble up inside of you.

“You wanted to see me.” Larissa grit her teeth as she stalked up to your desk.

“I did. Please, have a seat.”

Larissa ignored your offer and you let out a heavy sigh. “I must say, I was really disappointed this afternoon. The energy in your classroom was bordering on hostile and you made all of us feel very uncomfortable. I wouldn’t say that’s exactly conducive to learning and-”

“What were you even doing in my classroom?” Larissa hissed.

“I have been getting to know our faculty and their teaching methods better. It has worked quite well with your peers, however this afternoon was… eye-opening for me. What disappointed me the most, Ms. Weems, was that I caught a glimpse of you teaching as I entered the room, and it was… lovely. You care about your students, you really do, and I believe you to be a capable and nurturing teacher - your student’s grades prove as much.” You stood and rounded your desk, coming to stand in front of Larissa. “But the way your demeanor shifted when I joined your class… The way you refuse to work with me - it cannot continue like this.”

Larissa took a step forward, into your personal space. You could practically feel the white-hot anger radiating off of her in waves - it completely engulfed you. “You humiliated me in front of an entire class of my students and I-”

“Oh, shut up, Larissa!”

The blonde looked visibly shocked at the sudden use of her first name, the way it rolled off your tongue. Her pupils widened and her cheeks flushed - it was as if a switch had flipped inside of her as her eyes began to narrow and her lips curled into a sneer, electricity crackling between your bodies.

“Make me.”

That was it - the last straw. The heat you felt coursing through your veins was too much to bear, and without a single thought of consequences, you crashed your lips into Larissa’s, your hands immediately resting on her hips and tugging her closer.

The blonde let out a wanton moan as your tongue wasted no time in swiping at her lips, begging for entry - which she granted you without hesitation. Her tongue immediately met your own, licking into your mouth with a desperate sort of passion as she pushed her body flush against yours. Her left hand fisted at the collar of your shirt, pulling you closer and closer as her right hand threaded itself tightly through your hair, holding you in place.

The tension surrounding the both of you was growing thicker by the second, a hot coil winding itself tightly in your abdomen and lighting your entire body aflame. With a step forward, you had Larissa pinned between you and the edge of your desk. A little push was all she needed to topple back onto it, pulling you with her.

Larissa’s hands shot out to catch herself before her back hit the wood, and your lips disconnected for a moment. Her hot breath was heavy against your face and you looked up to see Larissa’s gaze fixed intently on your own, her eyes heavy-lidded and her pupils dilated so that there was barely a sliver of blue visible.

Her lipstick was smudged, smeared across her chin, just like in your fantasies, and for a moment you froze, like a deer caught in headlights.

You, the prey, and Larissa, the predator.

A wicked smile formed on her lips as she realized your predicament.

“Thought you could just fuck the attitude out of me, did you?” she purred, baring her teeth. You swallowed thickly, your eyes glued to her kiss-swollen lips, your heart pounding so fast you thought it might burst.

Even leaning back with her ass resting on your desk, she still towered over you. Her height had never intimidated you before but for a moment it gave you pause - you felt so very small. That moment was enough for Larissa to realize she had the upper hand, enough for her to slide her palm over the outside of your thigh, enough for her nimble fingers to tug the fabric of your skirt upwards until it was resting snugly above your hips, your panties on display for her.

“How naive of you,” she murmured as her fingers came to rest on your abdomen - you shivered at the touch - before slipping into the waistband of your underwear. You felt your cheeks burn as Larissa slid two fingers between your folds - you were so wet for her already, and the thought embarrassed you.

Larissa hummed quietly as she began to tease your slit, taking her time exploring your sex and gathering your juices on the pads of her fingers. When she finally soothed her fingers over your clit, you let out a strangled gasp, your hands coming to rest on her shoulders and squeezing tightly as your eyes fluttered shut.

Your clit was so sensitive, like every casual brush of her fingers could send you over the edge - but they didn’t. Just when you thought you might cum, her fingers left the little bundle of nerves and slid down your slit, towards your entrance.

She slipped the tip of her finger in, just to the first knuckle, before retracting and circling your entrance with a featherlight touch. Your nails dug into Larissa’s shoulders as you bucked your hips into her hand, whimpering desperately.

“So needy already and I’ve barely touched you,” Larissa tutted. “Tell me, have you pictured this before? Have you craved it?” Condescension dripped from her lips but you couldn’t find it in you to care - in fact, if anything, you felt the coil in your belly tighten and you ground your hips harder into her hand.

“Y-yes,” you whimpered. There was no point in lying to Larissa, not with how wet you were - and you would do just about anything to cum right now.

Without warning, Larissa plunged her finger into your hole, chuckling at the moan that clawed its way from deep within you. After a few pumps of her finger, she added a second digit and began to match the thrusts of your hips as she fucked you.

She curled her fingers upwards, going deeper this time and causing you to thrust forward so violently you nearly slid to the floor. Her reflexes were quick and she steadied you with her free arm, a smirk growing on her face.

Whatever power trip she was on, you didn’t care to stop her as her lips crashed into yours, her tongue all but forcing its entry into your mouth and asserting dominance. You felt entirely at her mercy as you felt yourself teeter on the edge of pleasure, your mind going fuzzy as Larissa’s fingers hit all the right spots inside you. What finally sent you over the edge was the way her thumb brushed over your clit at just the right moment, her fingers stroking your walls.

You clenched around her as you came, the coil in your belly snapping. Your moans were swallowed by the blonde, who seemed unable to keep her lips off your own, kissing and licking and gently nipping.

Your hands slid from Larissa’s shoulders to her waist, steadying yourself as you pulled back from the kiss. Larissa slipped her hand out of your underwear, her fingers glistening with your arousal - she brought them to her mouth and made a show of placing them on her tongue, licking and sucking and letting out a satisfied hum.

She watched you watch her, a smug grin growing on her face as your own cheeks flushed at the vulgar noises she was making. It was almost too much to bear, and you felt your frustration return with full force as Larissa pushed herself off the desk, holding her head high and smoothing the wrinkles in her dress. You would be damned if you let Larissa fuck you and then go on disrespecting you and making you feel awful about yourself.

“You thought we were done here?” You squared your shoulders and glared at Larissa in challenge - she quirked an eyebrow, looking slightly taken aback. “After all that, you would deny me the opportunity to return the favor?”

Larissa’s breathing quickened and you smirked as you leaned in to kiss her jaw. Your lips trailed lower, down the side of her neck, and she tilted her head back to give you better access as your teeth found her pulse point. You could feel her pulse hammering away as your lips latched onto her neck, sucking until her skin had been marked deep red.

Your hands found her hips and you moved down her body until your face was level with her thighs. You could feel Larissa’s gaze upon you as you slid her dress upwards to reveal her underwear - her knuckles turning white as she gripped the edge of the desk. There was a wet spot at the center of her underwear and you leant in, slowly dragging your tongue over the fabric and drawing a breathy groan from Larissa’s chest.

“And here you had me thinking I was the only one who was so wet right now,” you teased, your tongue finding Larissa’s clit through her underwear and giving it a gentle kitten lick, causing her to buck her pelvis into your mouth.

“So impatient…” You glanced up at Larissa’s face to see her cheeks flushed and her chest heaving as she glowered down at you. She made no move to stop you, however - quite the contrary, as she began to roll her hips against your tongue.

As much as you wanted to go on teasing her forever, you also felt a desperate urge to get a taste of the woman before you, so you hooked your fingers under the waistband of her underwear and pulled it down her long legs. You hooked her thighs over your shoulders, unable to stop yourself from moaning as you watched Larissa’s glistening folds spread for you.

You began to place wet, open-mouthed kisses to the insides of Larissa’s thighs, alternating between each leg and reveling in the way her thighs began to tremble beneath your lips. Smirking, you bit her thigh - right next to the entrance to her pussy. Larissa hissed and yanked your head back by the hair, her eyes flashing violently. Behind the aggression, there was a pool of unfettered desire already unspooling. Larissa was coming apart at the seams before your very eyes, and you could tell by her anger that it was unsettling to her.

The very thought emboldened you. “Well if it isn’t the former principal of Nevermore, turned into a needy little slut for me.”

Your words had the desired effect - Larissa mewled and bucked her hips towards your mouth. You took the opportunity to dive right in, the scent of her arousal filling your nostrils and making you feel dizzy with want as your tongue dragged its way up her slit. She tasted absolutely divine and you let out a satisfied hum that vibrated against her pussy and drew a deep moan from her chest.

Larissa’s fingers wound themselves even tighter in your hair as your tongue began to draw lazy circles around her clit, smearing your saliva and her arousal around the sensitive bud. You began to alternate between licking and sucking, wrapping your lips around her clit and flicking your tongue over it - experimenting with different paces and amounts of pressure to find out which drew the most sinful moans from the blonde’s lips, which made her thighs begin to tremble around your head.

You found it easy to lose yourself in Larissa - in her taste, her scent, the noises she was making, the way her pussy felt against your tongue and the way her hand felt against your head. You lapped hungrily at her cunt, your own desire burning hot within you as you felt Larissa barrel closer and closer to the edge - if the shaking of her legs and the volume of her groans was anything to go by.

Glancing up to catch a glimpse of her face, you dipped your tongue into her entrance, feeling her walls clench. A fire seemed to burn in her eyes as she came undone. You could tell how badly she wanted you by the way her lips parted as she gazed down at you, the way her tongue grazed her lower lip, the way the exposed part of her chest was red with anticipation. Her head lolled slowly back and her eyes fluttered shut, and you continued to lick and suck through her orgasm.

Larissa let go of your hair and slumped back onto the desk, her breathing labored. You let out a satisfied hum as you licked the arousal off the insides of her thighs, then gently unhooked her legs from your shoulders and stood, leaning over the desk and smirking down at her.

She lay back against the desk, staring at the ceiling. When you came into her line of vision, she tilted her head towards you and met your gaze, a strange expression on her face.

“I need to leave,” she whispered hoarsely, her eyes wide and glassy.

You opened your mouth to speak but before you could get a word out, Larissa had pushed herself up and pushed past you, pulling her dress down with one hand as she stooped down to grab her underwear with the other hand. She balled it into her fist, hiding it from view as she hurried to the door.

“Lari-” Slam.

Larissa was gone, leaving you to slump down in the armchair across from your desk, your chest heaving and your mind racing.

~~~

After a night of tossing and turning, you woke to an email from Larissa in your inbox.

Ms. Y/L/N,

Unfortunately, I am feeling a bit under the weather today, and am unable to teach my afternoon classes. Please do be so kind as to find a suitable replacement.

Regards,

L. Weems

Something wasn’t sitting right with you. Your stomach churned as you read the email over and over again, and it didn’t stop as you brushed your teeth, nor as you got dressed, nor as you settled at your desk with a cup of coffee.

You couldn’t get the previous day out of your head, and two things stuck out in your mind most of all:

Firstly, the little glimpse of Larissa that you’d caught when you’d first entered her classroom. The warmth, the genuine smile directed at her students, the encouraging tone to her voice. It was a side of Larissa that you hadn’t been privy to at all, and it made your heart ache - making you wish, even if just for a moment, that she could someday afford you that same warmth, that that brilliant smile of hers could be directed at you.

And secondly, the way those few moments made you realize how much you missed teaching. You’d always felt that your greatest purpose in life was to guide young outcasts and help them achieve their own goals, just as your teachers had done for you. And right now, as principal, you weren’t doing much of that at all. Maybe Larissa was right - maybe you weren’t cut out for the administrative side of things. The constant push and pull, the political bullshit, making all these decisions for the good of the school and being left so very unsure of yourself, with so little time to dedicate to the students you loved so much.

Your mind was replaying your last interaction with Larissa - the look in her eyes, how she’d left in such a hurry. Something was definitely off, and you wouldn’t rest until you’d sorted it out.

Shutting your laptop and abandoning your coffee, you grabbed your keys and made your way to the teacher’s quarters.

~~~

“Ms. Weems?” you called out, rapping your knuckles against the door to her quarters.

Silence.

“Ms. Weems?”

…

“Larissa?” you tried, knocking again.

This time, a soft shuffling could be heard, followed by the click of a lock, before the door opened just a crack, revealing one side of Larissa’s face, cast in shadow - it seemed she had the curtains drawn, and you suddenly felt guilty in case you’d woken her.

“Didn’t you receive my email, Ms. Y/L/N?” There was no hard edge to Larissa’s voice - she simply sounded exhausted.

“I, uh… I did, yes. I’m sorry if I woke you. I just wanted to check in and see if there’s anything I could do for you.” And talk, you added in your head. “Could I please come in?”

Larissa stared at you for a moment. Then a moment more. Then, she opened the door just a crack more and allowed you to step inside her quarters.

The curtains were indeed drawn, though the second that Larissa closed the door behind you, she hurried to the window and opened them to let in some light. She looked pristine as ever - not a hair out of place, makeup done to perfection, clothing free of wrinkles. She didn’t look ill at all. The only indication that she may have been curled up in bed was the untidy way her sheets were made up, as if she’d pulled them up and fluffed them in a haste.

Larissa’s eyes followed your gaze to her bed and she quickly took a step to the side, blocking it partially from view.

“Have you come to inspect how I keep my quarters now, as well?” she asked, an iciness seeping back into her tone. “I didn’t realize that was any of your concern as principal, Ms. Y/L/N.”

You shook your head lightly, finding yourself suddenly at a loss for words. “I… no. No, it’s not. That’s actually not why I’m here. Could you… um, could you please call me Y/N?”

Larissa scoffed and crossed her arms across her chest. “Alright. Y/N. Why are you here then?”

Your teeth sank into your lower lip as your mind whirred with all the things you wanted to say, all the things you wanted to know.

“What happened yesterday?” you whispered finally.

“You were there, were you not?” Larissa said with an incredulous snort. “Or would you like a quick recap?”

“No, I mean… I mean when you left.”

“I wasn’t feeling well.”

“You look fine to me,” you challenged with a raised eyebrow.

Larissa’s face hardened. “Your lack of empathy is absolutely astounding, Y/N.”

“Well considering the fact that you never actually opened up to me, it’s no-”

“Opened up to you?” Larissa scoffed. “I didn’t realize we were friends. Why should I speak with you about personal matters that don’t concern you?”

You opened your mouth - then promptly closed it again. Larissa was right, of course. You weren’t friends, and what she was or wasn’t going through was, of course, none of your business. That somehow didn’t stop you from wanting to know, though. As infuriating as the woman had proven to be since you’d met, you couldn’t help but desperately wish for things to be different than they were.

“You’re right. You don’t have to tell me anything. I just… I came by to tell you that I’m giving up my position. I’m going to call the school board this afternoon to quit, and I’m telling them that they should hire you back instead.”

The words left your mouth in a rush, and you felt so much lighter the second they did. Larissa’s lips parted, her eyes wide as she tried to process the information. You waited but she didn’t say anything, and so you turned to leave.

Just before you reached the door, Larissa found her voice. It was low and shaky, barely audible - but her quarters were so quiet you’d have heard a pin drop.

“I heard everything.”

Your brows knit together in confusion and you turned to see Larissa perch herself at the edge of her bed, her gaze trained on the floor in front of her.

“I don’t understand,” you whispered. “What did you hear?”

“It took ages for them to find me. When I woke up, I knew I was in the hospital because of the noises around me. Only I wasn’t awake, not really.” Larissa’s voice sounded bitter and subdued, her fingers twitched from where she was playing with them in her lap. “I heard people speaking to me. Then about me. And about Nevermore. And I couldn’t… I couldn’t say or do anything. I could only listen.”

Your heart was thumping erratically in your chest and you took a tentative step towards Larissa. “Who was speaking? Your friends, when they visited you?”

Larissa let out a shaky sigh, her eyelids fluttering shut. “Tell me, Y/N, how much time have you had to maintain your friendships since starting your position?”

The question confused you, and you drank in Larissa’s tense body language, her pained expression. Then you realized what she meant - her friends, if she even had any, hadn’t seemed to visit her at all, and a wave of guilt washed over you, so intense that you took a seat next to Larissa on the bed.

She opened her eyes and peered over at you, seeming to take your silence as a form of acknowledgment. “Some students visited in the first days - Miss Addams and Miss Sinclair, mostly, Miss Barclay once or twice. Later it was school administrators - trying to figure out what to do with me, I suppose, whether or not to…” Larissa trailed off into silence, letting out a shuddering breath as her eyes darted about the room.

Without thinking, you leant in and pressed your lips to Larissa’s cheek - you felt her tense up and pulled back as quickly as you could, your own cheeks turning scarlet.

“I-I’m so sorry,” you stuttered, scrambling to your feet.

A hand curled around your wrist, stilling you in your movements. “Don’t be,” Larissa whispered.

“Do you want me to go?” you asked anxiously.

Larissa looked up at you with wide, watery eyes. “Could you stay? Just for a few minutes. Please.”

You nodded, sitting back down next to Larissa and resting your hand face up on her lap - an offering which she accepted, placing her hand in your own and interlacing your fingers.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice shaky.

You gave Larissa’s hand a gentle squeeze, and the two of you sat in silence for what felt like hours, your hands intertwined. Strangely, you felt more at peace in that moment than you had since starting at Nevermore, and Larissa seemed to be getting more comfortable as well, even resting her cheek on your shoulder at one point.

The moment you left her quarters that afternoon, you pulled your phone out of your pocket to call the school board.

~~~

It was with a heavy heart that you hauled your suitcase onto your bed and unzipped it. Leaving Nevermore would be bittersweet for you - as much as you would miss the school you’d been dying to work at your entire life, you knew you were doing the right thing - for yourself, for Larissa, and for Nevermore.

You opened your wardrobe and began placing your clothes into your open suitcase when you heard a knock on the door to your quarters.

“It’s open,” you called out, and the door creaked as it swung open to reveal Larissa. “Hi,” you said with a shy smile, which Larissa returned hesitantly.

“I’ve just received a call from the school board and gotten everything sorted out. Thank you. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

You smiled softly at the principal. “I think I have some idea.”

Larissa’s cheeks turned pink and she looked away, her eyes darting around your room before landing on the mess on your bed. “Do you want to leave?” she asked, her voice soft and curious.

You chuckled nervously and gave her a light shrug. “I don’t know if I would say I want to leave, but I don’t see what choice I have without a job here. Unless you’re renting out rooms…?”

Larissa chuckled. “Actually, a position has opened up for a new history teacher,” she said. “I’ve taken the liberty of looking into your employment history and I think you’d be a great asset to our staff.”

Your eyes widened. “Really? You would hire me?”

“Yes,” Larissa said firmly. “I would. If you’d like to stay, that is…”

“Yes!” you all but shouted. “Sorry… yes. I would love to, that would be amazing. Thank you, Larissa.”

Larissa nodded, smiling softly. Your eyes fell to the large suitcase that was standing just behind Larissa, and you cocked your head to the side in question.

“The school board has agreed to allow me to take over my old quarters,” Larissa supplied as her gaze followed your own.

“Ah. I see.”

You fidgeted in place and Larissa watched you curiously for a moment. When she realized you weren’t going to say anything else, she gave you a curt nod and placed a hand on the handle of her suitcase. “I’ll leave you to it, then,” she said softly. “Perhaps we can set up a meeting this week to get you acquainted with your new position.”

You nodded, your stomach doing a little somersault as your heartbeat began to pick up just a tad. Larissa took a step back into the hallway and started to pull the door closed behind her.

“Larissa, wait.”

The blonde froze in her movements, her brow furrowing as her gaze shot up to meet your own. You swallowed thickly.

“Do you want help? Moving all your stuff back?”

You held your breath as Larissa stared. Then, her face lit up with a bright, beautiful smile, red lips curling up at the edges and sparkling blue eyes crinkling at the outer corners.

“I would love that.”

#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems #larissa x reader #principal weems x reader #principal weems

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ticklystuff · 11 months

Text

hi i know i’m on hiatus but i need to vent bc it’s nearly 10 pm and i’ve been at work for 12+ hours dealing with an actual nutcase

Okay, so there was a mama goose that laid her eggs on the third floor balcony of one of the buildings at work and they hatched back in April and I have posted about them a few times. Since there are no resources on a third floor balcony for them, one woman started feeding them lettuce and grass clippings from her yard and then a couple other people, me included, started helping her feed them too. Everything was fine for the first month.

Eventually, the facilities manager caught on. For some reason, she believes they can fly (they cannot) and has posted signs saying to stop giving them food and water. They clearly cannot fly because they have their baby feathers, but this woman will not believe anyone that tells her. The woman that started feeding them initially got caught and had her third floor badge access revoked, so the rest of us have been smuggling food and water up there. It has been very stressful because facilities has been throwing food away that we’ve been storing, so we’ve resorted to hiding the food in different places, and they’ve been throwing the geese’s water bowls and will sometimes station security guards by the geese to prevent people from feeding them and then we will have to wait for the security guards to leave, which can be really late in the evening.

Today, my co-worker sent the facilities manager an email regarding the geese and potentially relocating them. The facilities manager calls her and tells her that they don’t need to be relocated because they can fly off on their own. My co-worker then asks “Well, what if you’re wrong and they can’t fly?” but the facilities manager just laughed and repeated that they can fly.

I went up earlier to check on them and heard a loud noise coming from the geese area and initially thought some construction going on. When I get there, I see the facilities manager and three guys blasting music with a stereo to the balcony where the geese are. I go up to one of the guys and ask him what they’re doing and the guy is like “We’re trying to scare the geese away, but some of them seem like babies so they can’t fly” and I’m like no fucking shit. Facilities manager comes up to me and asks if I’m here to see the geese and I tell her no and that I was just stretching my legs and heard a loud noise. She then tells me “Well we’re having a party up here with the geese!” and I’m like “HA HAHAHA ROFLOLMAO XDDDDD” and then I leave. She is still up there trying to scare them away, but obviously they cannot leave. She is still blasting music at almost 10 pm and I am waiting for her to hopefully leave so I can give them food.

This other woman that has been feeding the geese goes up after I do and she sees the facilities manager. She goes up to her and starts having a conversation about the geese and she asks her are they going to be relocated and the facilities manager tells her no and that she’s gonna wait for them to fly. When the woman tells her that it takes about 8 weeks for them to learn to fly, the facilities manager asks her how she does she know these bird facts. The woman tells her that she just looked it up on the internet and the facilities manager says “Is everyone an internet doctor these days?” and it’s like bITCH YOU ARE LITERALLY STANDING IN THE RESEARCH BUILDING TALKING TO PEOPLE THAT DO RESEARCH FOR A LIVING WTF DO U MEAN BY THIS HAVE U NEVER GOOGLED BASIC SHIT BEFORE??????????

Honestly, yeah, you should not be feeding wildlife, but also, the facilities manager did nothing to help relocate them when they were born so they were probably going to starve up there if the initial feeder didn’t step in. I cannot for the life of me understand why she still refuses to relocate them

Anyway, still waiting for her to leave. I refuse to leave until I can feed them because they haven’t eaten all day and no one will be able to come in over the weekend to feed them because the heating/cooling system at work is being worked on, so they’re not allowing employees access this weekend and I wish to give them something in preparation for the long weekend. Wish me luck that I don’t get caught *sobs*

If I come back to dead geese on Monday, I’m going to rip the facilities manager to shreds *sigh*

#long post

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the-bau-quinjet · 3 years

Text

My Only Girl

Summary: request! Reader has to decide between keeping her secret and saving the man she loves. In the end, it's not a hard choice.

Warnings: violence/blood

Word count: 3370

a/n: I really enjoyed writing this one! I put a screen shot of the request at the end just because I didn’t want to give away the whole story :)

You never would have guessed that today would change everything. It started the same as any other Thursday.

You were seated at your desk right outside of Tony’s main office working on his schedule for two weeks from now. Your music was playing softly through your earbuds causing you to bob your head as you read email after email.

Suddenly, a Starbucks cup appeared in front of your face, a metal hand wrapped around the cup.

You swiftly pulled the earbuds from your ears, turning in your chair to greet Bucky with a hug.

“Hi.” You whispered into his chest during your hug. “You are truly a gift.” You smiled, taking the cup with your go to order. You press a quick kiss to his lips only to be pulled back in for a deeper kiss by Bucky.

“Y/N, do you know when my next press conference is?” Tony asked, walking out of his office while still looking down at his tablet.

Bucky let you pull back from him just far enough to answer Tony. “Next Thursday. You wanted to announce the new post-mission protocol for ‘Damage Control’.” You chuckled at the title, knowing Pepper was still trying to talk him into changing it.

“Right! Thank you.” He finally looks up, taking in the sight of you in Bucky’s arms. “Barnes! Let her work.” He nearly whined, playing up the annoyance.

“I will.” Tony leveled him with a pointed glare, looking between you and your computer. “I will! I just wanted to say good morning to my best girl.”

You scrunched your nose at the term of endearment, leaning farther back from Bucky to look in his eyes.

“You don’t like being my best girl?” He sounded genuinely concerned, earning a small chuckle from you.

“I like being your only girl. Best implies that there are others, and though I would love to be the best of them, I don’t want there to be others.” You nodded your head resolutely, taking on a serious expression.

“Please, you’ve had this man wrapped around your finger from the second he saw you.” Tony scoffed.

“He’s right, doll. And you are my only girl. I love you.” Bucky pressed a quick kiss to your lips, letting you remove yourself from his arms to continue working.

“I love you too. See you for lunch?” He nodded as he walked backwards to the elevator, keeping his eyes on yours until the doors closed.

“Wrapped around your finger, I swear.” Tony laughed when you glared at him, retreating back into his office to make some phone calls.

Sometimes it’s really easy to pinpoint the exact moment everything went to shit. This was one of those times.

22 minutes before you were due to meet Bucky for lunch, the red emergency lights started flashing with an accompanying alarm blaring in your ears.

Friday announced “The compound is under attack, enacting lockdown protocol.”

“Shit.” Lockdown meant you needed to use specific codes to get into or out of any room. It definitely makes your life harder.

Tony left to meet Pepper 15 minutes ago, so to your knowledge you were the only one on this floor.

Glancing up and down the hall to double check, you swiftly enter Tony’s office, pulling up the security footage to see who you’re dealing with. Three different sides of the compound are surrounded by mercenaries clad in black fighting gear.

You watch the screens, contemplating the best course of action to subtly help when one of the mercenaries pulls out a missile launcher. He aims it quickly, firing into the side of the building.

You feel the walls shake as you watch part of the wall collapse, giving them an opening to enter the compound through.

“Shit.” You run from Tony’s office, heading for the action without another thought even though this is definitely the biggest problem you’ve ever helped them with.

You phase through the walls, doing your best to make sure nobody will see you when you come out on the other side of the wall. If all goes well, you’ll be back at your desk before anyone even notices you were gone.

Your powers are a secret, even from the team. The powers that be, meaning your boss, don’t want the Avengers knowing they have an Angel on their side. It took you enough negotiating to get yourself assigned to this “project”, you were willing to do it without telling anyone that you are a angel.

You basically had to beg your boss to let the Avengers be the people you watched over. Typically, angels are assigned to help those who can’t help themselves. Your logic for this assignment was that keeping the Avengers safe would, in turn, protect millions of other people.

The one stipulation you faced when finally being assigned the the Avengers, was that you couldn’t tell them what you are.

At first, You had no problem keeping the secret. Being Tony’s assistant hardly meant spending ample time with everyone. You didn’t need to befriend them to keep them safe. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

Overtime, Tony broke down your walls. He convinced you to go to one of his galas, ultimately starting your demise. One look at Bucky had your heart soaring. Not telling him the truth has been eating away at you ever since he first asked you to get dinner with him.

You pushed your guilt to the back of your mind, refocusing on getting closer to the attackers so you could figure out what to do.

Typically, you use your powers to slightly change the path of bullets or hold off a bomb for a few extra seconds. It gives the team enough time to escape, not necessary unscathed, but with recoverable injuries. Plus, it keeps your powers hidden.

It’s hard enough to hack into the video feed from various super suits without alerting anyone, you were definitely concerned about how to keep your powers hidden while using them so close to everyone.

You skid to a stop just around the corner, listening as two of the mercenaries instruct the others.

“Split up. You know who we’re looking for. If you find him, report in. First priority is getting out of here with him alive. All else fails, kill him.”

Immediately, you’re mind jumped to Bucky. Of course, Hydra scrum could be looking for anyone to use as a weapon, but Bucky made the most sense. When would they finally realize they can’t control him anymore?

You used your powers to confuse the men, making it look like whatever blueprints they studied were outdated. It would hopefully give everyone else enough time to get here and fight them off.

You hid in a closet when you heard people approaching from behind you.

“Sam, find Wanda and get to the east side. Nat and I will handle these guys.”

You relaxed at the sound of Steve’s voice, waiting for the group to disperse before sliding out of the closet.

You ran back through the compound, heading for the lab. It was the closest place for you to retreat to in order to look through the security cameras again.

“Friday, give me a rundown of what’s happening please.” You looked between the screens, intently listening to the AI’s voice.

“The east side is being secured by Ms. Maximoff and Mr. Wilson. Based on projected outcomes, they will have everything under control in 7 minutes. Captain Rogers and Ms. Romanoff are fighting on the south side, near the blast sight. They will have the area secure in 6 minutes.”

You nodded, following along as you looked between the cameras.

“The west side is secure. Mr. Stark and Mr. Barton have cleared the area and are holding off any additional attacks.”

“Good. Where’s Bucky?” You looked between the cameras, but couldn’t find him.

“Sergeant Barnes is on the roof, engaged in hand to hand.”

“What the hell is he doing on the roof?” You panicked, clicking between camera angles until you could see him.

There were ten Hydra agents on the roof, surrounding Bucky as he did his best to fight them off.

“How did he get singled out so fast?” You mumbled to yourself, trying to think of a plan. They had Bucky backed up to the edge of the roof, slowly pushing him further and further.

You could see what was about to happen nearly in slow motion. You acted quickly, not thinking about keeping your secret, but rather solely focused on helping Bucky.

You broke through the window in the lab, wings appearing on your back as you flew to him. Just as you arrived, one of the agents shot him three times, propelling him backwards off the roof. Sending a shockwave over the roof, you knocked out the remaining agents as you dove, hurtling through the air to catch Bucky before he hit the ground.

You grabbed him around the waist, lugging his body through the air with some difficulty. It wasn’t the most convenient position, plus you were slightly rusty from hiding your wings for so long.

“Doll?” Bucky questioned, glancing at you through fluttering eyelids. “I knew you were my angel.” He whispered before his eyes fell closed, the blood loss getting to him.

You swung around the building, re-entering through the broken lab window and laying Bucky on the lab bench.

“Lifting lockdown protocol.” Friday announced, the noise barely registering in your ears.

“Ms. L/N, Captain Rogers is requesting a check in from everyone on the team, would you like me to update him on yours and the Sergeant’s situation.” Friday asked.

“Yeah, go ahead.” You muttered, not really paying attention to the question as you did your best to slow the bleeding. You haven’t tried healing anyone in years, so it was taking more effort than it should for you to fix this.

You closed your eyes, hands hovering over Bucky’s body. Your wings were still present, although no longer fully extended.

You channelled everything you could into healing Bucky’s wounds, drowning out any outside interference. Your hands began to glow, a warm golden light surrounding Bucky’s body as his bullet wounds healed.

A few minutes passed as his wounds fully healed. You nearly collapsed from the relief of seeing him no longer bleeding out. His color was returning to normal, heartbeat speeding back up.

“Y/N?” You jumped at the noise, turning around to see nearly the entire team staring at you.

Your eyes went wide, hand still clutching Bucky’s as you stuttered in an attempt to come up with an explanation.

“You have wings.” Wanda pointed out the obvious, everyone still wearing matching expressions of shock.

You looked over your shoulder, nearly surprised by their presence on your back yourself. You had been so focused on healing Bucky, you forgot to hide them again.

“Your hands were glowing.” Sam’s brow furrowed, looking between you and Bucky.

You nodded, still unsure of what to say.

Suddenly Steve barged into the room, unaware of the tension. He ran right for Bucky, yelling for someone to get a medic.

“Why are you all just standing there? Friday said he was shot! Three times! Get a medic!” He looked at everyone in a panic before turning to look for wounds on Bucky.

His brow furrowed as he tried to find any of the bullet wounds. “Wha- Where are the bullet wounds... He’s covered in blood, but not bleeding? Even we can’t heal that fast, what’s going on?” Steve turns back to the team, mouth slightly agape.

They all point to you.

Slowly, Steve turns finally noticing your presence. “Y/N?” He looks between the team and you again, a double take so fast it would have been funny if not for the situation.

“You have wings?” He says it with much more confusion than Wanda’s point blank statement.

You nod, voice still eluding you. You finally manage to get the wings to disappear.

“Care to explain...” Tony asks, pointing to where your wings just were, your hands, and Bucky, “All of that?”

Before you can reply, Bucky jolts awake with a groan.

“What the hell?” He looks around the lab, taking everyone’s confused faces. Even Nat looks surprised. “How did I get here?” He rubs his abdomen, slightly sore from the bullets.

Everyone shakes their heads, looking to you for answers.��

“Y/N?” He turns to you, hand squeezing yours slightly. “You were an angel. I thought I was dying...” He trailed off, trying to makes sense of everything in his head.

“An angel?” Steve balks. Everyone else nods, various expressions of understanding on their faces.

“I mean, that makes sense.” Nat chimes in, ready to accept it. “Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing that ever happened.”

“What?” Bucky asks, sitting up on the counter. “She’s not actually an angel. I just saw that as my... I don’t know, dying wish?” His face scrunched in confusion, trying to make sense of what he saw.

“Well, I’m not dying and I saw the wings. And the glowing hands.” Clint speaks up, turning all eyes back to you.

A voice in your head is suddenly booming. Your hands fly up to the sides of your head, trying to dull the ache of the screaming voice in your mind.

“Y/N L/N, you have broken the only rule bestowed upon you. According to contract 71, you are no longer permitted to enter the Angel Realm. Any attempts to return here will result in termination of your capabilities. Misuse of your capabilities on Earth or any other planet will result in termination of your capabilities.” Your boss’s voice was instantly recognizable.

You didn’t notice the team crowding around you while you doubled over in pain, rubbing your temples as the message repeated.

“Ugh, why did you have to say it twice?” You suddenly stared up at the sky, annoyed with the whole system.

“Um, who said what twice?” Banner finally entered the lab, having been avoiding any anger inducing scenarios.

Before anyone could jump in with what little knowledge they had, you started talking.

“My Boss.” You winced, looking at Tony as he raised a brow. “My other boss... well, I guess not anymore. My former other boss.”

“Which is...” Tony gestured for you to continue.

“Maybe you should all sit down, this could take a while...”

Everyone followed as you lead them to the kitchen and living room.

“Okay, I’ll just jump into I guess.” You took a deep breath, looking around the room at everyone’s curious and slightly impatient expressions.

“I’m an angel.” You nodded, trying to reassure yourself that it was okay to say out loud.

“Yeah, and? We figured that one out fifteen minutes ago.” Tony huffed, wanting more information.

“Four years ago, I found out about the Avengers.” You looked at all of them, nervous for their reactions. “Angels are supposed to protect those who can’t help themselves, but I wanted to protect you all.”

“Why?” Steve asked, eying you curiously.

“Would you all stop interrupting and let her explain!” Wanda whisper yelled, gesturing for you to continue.

“It’s a valid question. Um, I guess I just thought you all put your lives on the line to help everyone else and I wanted to do what I could to help you. I convinced my former boss to let me come here. I told her protecting you guys would protect all the people you were bound to save, and that’s a lot of people.”

Everyone nodded, seemingly taking in the information.

“I wanted to tell you. I really did, but it was my only rule. I wasn’t allowed to.” You nervously wrung your hands together, biting your lip as everyone took in the information.

“That’s why it’s former boss?” Nat questioned.

“Yes. She fired me?” It was a question to your own ears. “I’ve never heard of an angel being fired before. That kinda sucks.” Everyone chuckled at that.

“And that was why you doubled over in pain in the lab?” Bucky questioned, concern in his voice.

You nodded. “Yeah, she has a habit of yelling in my head. And she always says everything twice.” You glared at the ceiling again, knowing she had probably moved on from you already.

“You’re not mad?” You looked back at Bucky, practically forgetting about everyone else in the room.

“You caught me after I was shot off of a building and then healed my three bullet wounds. I think you’ve made up for the secret.” Bucky smiled, pulling you into his lap for a hug. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

You nearly burst into tears at the relief you were feeling. “Oh thank God.” You squeezed him as tight as you thought he could handle, needing to feel him close to your for a second.

You then turned to face the rest of the team, giving them an equally nervous look. “Are you guys mad?”

“Well, I didn’t get any magic healing.” Sam huffed, a smile on his face.

“Nobody flew me around the compound.” Tony added on.

“But, you can fly?” You gave him a confused expression.

“Dammit” Tony muttered, thinking on his feet. “Tell you what, tell me what else you can do and we’ll call it even.”

“Deal... Maybe we can meet back here in half an hour?” You looked at their bruised and bloody bodies. “You all look like you could use a shower, and I for one would love to get this blood off me.” You gestured to the blood covering your jeans and shirt.

A half hour later, you were back in the living room. Tony ordered pizza, everyone crowding around the coffee tables and couches.

“Alright. Get to it!” Tony called out, excitement clear in his voice.

You stood up, turning to face the crowd. “Well, you know about the wings.” Your wings extended from your back with a woosh, spreading out before settling in a resting position.

You heard various mutterings as everyone took in your wings in their full glory. You then floated slightly above the floor, wings gently flapping to keep you suspended.

“How’s it feel birdman, her wings are part of her.” Bucky jested at Sam, a proud smile on his face.

“Yeah, well mine are bulletproof.” Sam sneered, a smile on his face.

“Actually,” you winced, “Mine can be bulletproof. Basically, I can do whatever I want, but only for short periods of time. Like if someone surprise shot me, it would hurt. But if I was prepared, it would bounce off.”

“Wow.” Steve looked at you, a mixture of surprise and wonder in his eyes.

“Um, I can also walk through walls, create shockwaves, move things with my mind, hack into any computer- although it takes some actual knowledge to not leave a trail... I mean, I’m pretty strong, but I don’t have much training for fighting hand to hand or anything. Oh, and mind manipulation? Not like mind control or anything, that is definitely frowned upon. Just... like earlier I made the Hydra agents forget the blueprints so they wouldn’t be able to get around the compound as quickly.”

Everyone jumped in with questions. You answered every single one, talking well into the night. You did your best to give examples of your powers, like moving the rubble around to fix the giant hole in the south side of the compound.

After a few hours, Bucky cut in. “Guys, she’ll still be here tomorrow. Wait, you will still be here, right?” He looked at you in a panic.

“Yes, unless you all want me gone, I’m here to stay.” You smile at them.

“Good. Now as I was saying, she’ll be here tomorrow. Ask her the rest of your questions then. Hell, make a list if you want. Just let me take my best girl to bed.” Bucky pulled you up from the couch, leading you out of the room.

“Goodnight!” You called back to the team before turning to Bucky. “What did I say about being your best girl?” You playfully hit his side.

He pulled you into his arms, hugging you while you waited for the elevator. “I’m sorry. My only girl.”

“That’s better.”

Permanent taglist:

@averyhotchner @jesuswasnotawhiteman

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #avengers x reader #marvel fic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes one shot #marvel #mcu

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once-upon-a-oneshot · 3 years

Text

Game Over

Based On: “When You Sleep” by Mary Lambert

Summary: Frat!Harry only wants you when he’s drunk, and you’ve finally had enough

Warnings: swearing

Word Count: 1.8K

Here I was for the third time this week pulling up to a frat party in the middle of the night. I didn’t want to be here, but, just like all the other times he had too much to drink, he needed me. Usually it takes a great amount of pushing past drunk underaged college kids to find him at these things. But this time, as soon as I reached the yard of the house, dimly lit by an array of neon party lights, I spotted a mop of curly brown hair, hunched over a bush.

“Yo! Harry dude! I thought we agreed no more puking in our bushes?!” Some frat guy was yelling at him from the porch. Harry’s only response was to flip the guy off and grin while using the bush to hold him up. “Finally! Your baby sitter’s here” The guy half-joked noticing my arrival.

Harry turned around to face me a little too fast, and he stumbled forward nearly falling. I tried my best to support him but there was no chance. I by no means would consider myself “small” or “petite”, but compared to Harry’s 6-foot, broad shouldered stature, he was too large.

“Hey! What’re ya doing hur?” Harry drunkenly slurred semi-regaining his balance.

“Haz, you called me, remember?” Normally I would’ve been embarrassed calling him anything but his name. But I’ve done this enough times to know, in the morning, he won’t remember any of the words exchanged tonight.

It took nearly an hour to get Harry back to my dorm room. Our new personal best. It’s not that I live far from the frat house, it’s more the process of getting Harry here. The trip usually goes something like, helping Harry stumble to the car, pulling over at every traffic light so Harry can throw up, finally making it to his apartment (which is past my own apartment), Harry begging me to help him to his front door, Harry realizing he “forgot” his keys, Harry asking if he can just crash at my place instead, me driving Harry back to my apartment, helping Harry stumble into my dorm.

It took about the third time of this routine being repeated for me to realize the coincidence of Harry forgetting his keys every time he went out, got shit faced, and called me to come pick him up, wasn’t so much a coincidence. And even though it was the same thing every time, I never skipped the step of driving to his apartment, because I knew it meant he’d have to verbally ask me if he could stay with me. And in some sick way, I got off to hearing his lips form those words. It was something so small, but something that meant so much to me. And he knew that. Drunk or not. I knew what the morning would bring, but for the night, I’d listen to Harry’s slow, peaceful breathing as he slept.

The next morning, I woke up to the sound of Harry attempting to tip-toe around, collecting his things before I’d wake up. And just like every other morning, I lay perfectly still, letting silent tears hit the pillow, while I listen to the boy I love try to pretend he was never here.

LATER ON CAMPUS

“Hey (Y/N), what did I miss in class today?” I swiveled around in the library chair to face the person who was speaking to me.

Before even facing him, I recognized the voice as a kid from my Biology class, who also happened to be from my hometown. We weren’t necessarily friends, but we engaged in small talk every once in a while. Although I knew who it was before I turned around, I didn’t expect Harry to be standing there with him.

“Oh, uh, not too much.” I focused as hard as I could on my classmate to keep from looking over at Harry. I could feel his eyes burning into me, but I was too embarrassed to look at him. “I can send them to you if you want.”

“Sick! Can you email them to me right now, so I can print them right quick?” I wanted badly to make up some excuse for why I just had to leave and send the notes later, so I could get far far away from Harry. But when I opened my mouth, “Sure” is all that came out.

The guy sat at the computer across from me, and Harry sat down next to him. I fixed my eyes on the computer screen and tried to steady my shaky hands enough to hurriedly send the notes. All the while Harry continued to stare.

As soon as the notes were sent, I logged off the computer and packed up my things. In order to get out of the library I had to pass Harry and the guy, and it was just my luck that the guy had gotten up to go print. As I passed Harry, he grabbed my wrist stopping me. I finally looked into his green eyes, but he didn’t say anything, he just continued to stare like he had already been doing.

“What?” I asked getting uncomfortable with the intensity he was looking at me with. He just shrugged in response.

Once Harry noticed his friend walking back to the computer, he quickly released my wrist, and turned around, as if nothing had ever happened.

Things have been this way with Harry since I met him. Since the day I became his. He knew I had a crush on him, and it gave him some sort of ego trip. Even though he knew I already wanted him, he wanted to make sure it would stay that way. So, whenever he felt like I wasn’t paying him enough attention, or he thought my yearning for him was slipping away, he’d throw me a bone to keep me begging. Initially I made the mistake of thinking this meant that by some chance, he wanted me the same way, but he proved time and time again (through his actions and his words), this wasn’t the case.

And after months of taking whatever treatment Harry would give me. I finally snapped. It happened one night at a party. I was drinking, and I didn’t know he’d be there. I spent the night avoiding him. I was afraid of what drunk me may say or do once I got around him. When he entered a room, suddenly I had somewhere else to be. When he needed another drink from the kitchen, suddenly I wasn’t thirsty anymore. When he wanted to join on the beer pong table, suddenly I was bored of the game. And Harry noticed.

I was on the second floor of the house on my own, exhausted from dodging Harry all night. I leaned my back against the wall of the hall after the stairs reminded me just how buzzed I really was. I guess Harry spotted me heading up stairs because I heard footsteps on the stairs, before he appeared at the top of them. Without saying anything, Harry glanced over his shoulder, before walking and standing directly in front of me. He put an arm up on either side of my head, trapping me between him and the wall.

“I didn’t know you were gonna be here.” he said too casually for our position. “Are you mad at me or something?” This took me by surprise.

“What?”

“You’ve been ignoring me all night.” Again, his tone was way too casual for the things he was saying. But honestly, that’s always how Harry played it.

“You mean living my life? Enjoying the party? Not worshiping the ground you walk on?” Harry’s only response was a smirk. That’s when I started getting angry. “Look I’m too drunk to even be having this conversation with you right now Haz, so can we ju-“

“What’d you just call me?” Harry questioned raising an eyebrow at me. I froze. I was so drunk and emotional that I had accidentally let it slip. But upon processing the look on Harry’s face as something almost resembling distain, my embarrassment turned to pure anger.

“What do you want from me Harry?!” anger was thick in my voice as I pushed him backwards further from me.

“What are you talki-“

“No. Don’t you dare do that! Don’t act like you’re clueless. Like-like you haven’t been playing games with me since we met!” He said nothing. Instead he just stood staring at me. An emotionless expression painted across that beautiful face.

I wanted to stay angry. I wanted the fire burning inside of me to push me to finally walking away from this toxic man. But seeing that there was truly nothing there, the anger fizzled out to simple exhaustion.

“Look, we both know you know how I feel about you. And we both know you don’t feel the same way. But you play with my head. You flirt with me just long enough to wrap me around your finger. And then silence. Just like I never existed. That is until your hold on me starts unraveling again. It’s just some big twisted game for you. It’s like when you can’t have my attention, you suddenly want it.”

“It’s no-“

“I’m not done. For once in the history of whatever the fuck this thing with us is, it’s my turn to talk, and your turn to just listen. And I want you to listen good, because this is the only time I’m ever going to say.” I waited for some sign from Harry to let me know he was really paying attention.

He nodded so I continued.

“I can’t keep being a pawn in your torturous game Harry. It’s not fair to me. You’re breaking me apart and you don’t even care. The thing that hurts the most Harry,” I fought the tears for as long as I could, but the alcohol made it nearly impossible “is the fact that I know I could make you so happy. I would do everything in my power to give you the world. Hell, I basically already do. But you’re so blinded by “not wanting to be with me” that you don’t even realize how good I am for you. How good I am to you. If you stop telling yourself you’re not allowed to love me, I guarantee I’d make you fall. But if that’s not what you want. If you really, truly don’t even want to give me a chance, I’m done. I’ll have to walk away before you finish draining what little of me, I have left. And if that’s what it comes to, I’m begging you, please just let me go. No more games.”

Harry just stood and, like he so often did, stared. Blank. I felt like I was frozen in that moment and all the air had been sucked from the room. Unfortunately, I could feel myself began to sober up as I stood in anticipation of Harry’s response. I wished like hell I was still drunk, because maybe it would’ve hurt less when Harry finally spoke.

“I’m sorry,” he began backing away back towards the stairs. “I’ll leave you alone.” And with that he spun on his heels and trotted back down to the party.

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homoose · 3 years

Text

Teach Me Something I Don’t Know: Part VII

Summary: Spencer’s unresolved trauma catches up with him. Reader gets her heart broken.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: angst, I’m so sorry guys

Warnings/Includes: brief mention of violence and details of a case; brief mention of prison, past trauma; a lil self-loathing and self-sabotaging

Word count: 3.8k

a/n: I knew that this was where this story was going from the very beginning. The dialogue is one of the first parts I had written. It still hurts. Relevant to the story: I operate with the understanding that the Jeid arc does not exist, which also means that Spencer never went to therapy in season 15. Also, huge thanks to @reidscanehand for beta-ing and just generally being my hype person!!!!

Song Recs: Shrike by Hozier; Better As a Memory by Kenny Chesney (don’t come for me if Spencer made playlists this would ABSOLUTELY be on there)

Series Masterlist

———

Spencer made his way to Emily’s office, ignoring the team’s eyes on him— varying degrees of understanding, concern, and uncertainty plain on their faces. As he reached the threshold, he paused for a second before moving into her line of sight. When he moved into the doorway, she looked up and waved him in. He closed the door behind him.

She gestured to the chair in front of her desk. Spencer hesitated for only a split second, but it was long enough for her to notice. He lowered himself into the chair and met her eyes.

She folded her hands on top of the desk. “How are you feeling?”

He drummed his fingers across his kneecaps. “I’m fine.”

It was a lie, and they both knew it. She bit back a sigh and flipped open the folder in front of her. “I’m finished with the official report. I wanted to go over it with you before I submit it to the director.” She looked at him briefly before reading out the report. “On January 9th, our team pursued a lead at the residence of suspect Andrew Hurley. We divided into teams to cover the two entrances to the home, as well as the barn behind the house.”

Spencer fidgeted slightly in his chair and rubbed the tips of his fingers together. Emily continued, “During the raid, Supervisory Special Agent Spencer Reid became separated from the team and was ambushed and disarmed by the suspect in the barn.” She paused but didn’t look at him. “The team was unaware of the altercation for some time, during which Dr. Reid employed various approved restraint methods and was ultimately forced to utilize self-defense measures to preserve his own life. Consequently, Mr. Hurley sustained serious injuries.”

She did look at him then, a steady and unrelenting gaze that had him shrinking inside himself. “However, I have determined that Dr. Reid’s actions were justified in order to maintain his own safety.” She returned her eyes to the report. “Mr. Hurley was detained and treated for his injuries at Sebastian River Medical Center, and he is expected to make a full recovery. Based on the cognitive interviews and physical evidence, a grand jury hearing is scheduled for January 25th.” She brought her hands to rest on top of the report.

“I’ll sign off on it and deliver it to the director by the end of business today.” She let out the sigh she’d been holding back. “Reid.”

He pressed his mouth into a thin line, torn between shame and vindication. “Emily.”

“What happened in that barn was unacceptable. And I need you to recognize that.” Her eyes were back on him, a leader’s gaze boring into a weak link. “You went against a direct order. You put your life in danger unnecessarily, and in the process you endangered this entire team. Furthermore, you could have cost us the ability to close this case, to put Hurley away and bring justice to his victims.”

“It won’t happen again,” he assured her.

“No, it won’t.” Her tone told him that if it did, he’d have bigger problems than a meeting in her office. “My recommendation to the director is that you transition to your next mandatory leave cycle early.”

“I can handle—”

“It’s not a request. You’re on sabbatical starting tomorrow. That’s an order, and one you’d do well to follow.” She closed the file in front of her. “We’ll see you back in the bullpen on March 7th.”

“I don’t need more time off, Emily,” Spencer snapped.

He could see her grind her teeth together at his tone, but he couldn’t seem to care enough to feel contrite. She took a deep breath in through her nose, leveling him with a pointed look. “If Simmons hadn’t broken it up, you’d have killed Hurley on the floor of that barn.”

His mind snapped back to the lifeless eyes of Hurley’s victims— eight year old boys in shallow graves. Boys who died afraid, and in pain, and crying out for their mothers. His thoughts raced to the feel of Hurley’s throat under his arm, the crack of the zygomatic under his fist. Emily was right of course. If Matt hadn’t found them in the barn and dragged him up and off of Hurley’s nearly lifeless body, Spencer would have killed him without compunction.

“Reid.” The stern edge was gone from her voice. Spencer refocused his eyes on her face, now showcasing an underlying concern that made his stomach turn. “I’m not recommending another cycle of mandatory counseling at this time, although I reserve the right to require it moving forward. But… I’m asking you to take care of yourself. You’ve been through a lot in the last two years. More than a lot.”

“I said I’m fine,” he insisted, but there was less fire behind it this time.

“And I’m not saying you aren’t,” she countered. “But I am saying that the person in that barn… that wasn’t you. That was not the Reid that I know.” Emily tilted her head and furrowed her brow. “The Reid I know uses his intellect and empathy to see angles that the rest of us miss. He depends on the strength of his mind and his unwavering compassion to diffuse conflicts without violence. He invites his friends to foreign film showings and puppet theater.”

When he didn’t budge, she let out a long breath. “I want you to take the next fifty days to find that Reid and bring him back to us.”

...

Y/N dropped into her desk chair with a huff. They’d been back from winter break for two weeks, and she already needed another vacation. But tomorrow was Friday, and then they had a long weekend. She could make it through one more day.

She closed her eyes for a long moment, tired in the way that only kindergarten teachers fresh off a long break can be. She heard the click of Anita’s shoes coming before she even entered the room, and Y/N couldn’t stop the twitch of her lips.

“Dude. How is it only Thursday?” Anita flopped down into the plush Calm Corner chair.

“This has been the longest week of my life,” Y/N agreed. “My kids were off the chain.��

“There is so much drama in middle school right now,” Anita groaned. “I can’t keep up with all the tea, and you know how I love to stay up to date on the freshest brews.” She shot Y/N a look. “Speaking of, where’s the good doctor?”

“I think they’ve had a lot going on at work,” Y/N surmised. “I haven’t seen Mrs. Jareau in over a month.”

“Well, I’m getting antsy,” Anita complained. “Thought for sure you’d be going steady by now.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help but feel a little impatient herself. If she’d known it would be this long before she’d see him again, she might have made a move when he’d volunteered. Then again, probably not. She sighed.

Her phone chimed with an email message, and she automatically swiped the screen open to read it.

Spencer Reid Re:

Are you free today? If you are, I’ll be at Soho.

...

Spencer sat at the table in the corner of the coffee shop. He sipped absentmindedly at his tea, almost gone cold. He hadn’t waited for a reply before leaving Quantico. He drove straight to the city, figuring he’d wait at Soho until he felt some semblance of calm returning to his body.

He didn’t know why he’d emailed Y/N, and he wasn’t sure he really wanted her to show up. Usually he’d talk to Penelope or maybe JJ. But he’d wanted to get as far from the BAU as possible, and he didn’t want to drag Penelope away from the colorful, safe corner of the world she’d created for herself. He didn’t want to fill it with all the tragedy she’d tried so hard to leave behind.

If Y/N did show, he was certain he could keep the conversation vague, focus on her and the classroom, ask her about her holidays. She wasn’t a profiler, didn’t know his tells well enough. She’d be none the wiser, and he’d have her warmth and presence to focus his energy on, if only for a few hours.

Every time the bell chimed, his eyes flew to the door, searching for her. He knew it was ridiculous. He’d only known her for one hundred and eleven days. Pragmatically, he knew she shouldn’t be the one he wanted to talk to. Realistically, he wasn’t planning to burden her with all of the mess of the past week, the past year, his entire life.

But in the six hundred and forty seven minutes he’d spent with her since September, he’d felt more like himself than he ever had. He was never afraid to be himself with her— the silly story voices, the ridiculous costume, the magic trick, the vulnerability about his mom. All of these pieces of himself were things he usually waited years to show people. It had taken her a matter of weeks to draw them out.

He couldn’t help but believe that if he wanted to, he could tell her everything. She’d know exactly what to say. She’d listen for as long as he could keep talking. She’d cover his shaking hands and wrap him up in the warmth of her spirit. She’d give of herself to guide him back to the person he used to be. She’d be more than willing to use her radiance to illuminate the dark so that he might have a little light again.

The bell sounded, and his eyes focused, and there she was. She was wrapped up in a puffed jacket, a bright blue scarf tied around her neck. Her nose was adorably red from the cold, and she rubbed her hands together as the door closed behind her. Her eyes found him immediately. A small smile turned up the corners of her mouth, and she gave him an enthusiastic wave. And he knew that he was right about all of it.

She approached the table, unwinding her scarf. “Hi!”

“Hi.”

Her eyes flickered over his face, and then settled on his mostly empty mug. “I’ll get you a refill, and then we’ll catch up?”

He nodded, and she headed to the counter. There had been a part of him that thought she wouldn’t come, but of course she did. For some reason, unbeknownst to him, she liked talking to him. Even among his closest friends, he was often made to feel self-conscious about his tendency to ramble, but Y/N had literally asked him to. She sought him out, asked him questions, listened intently, and remembered things he’d told her. She was kind and thoughtful and genuine. Of course she came when he called.

She returned with two mugs, carefully setting them down on the tiny table. She unzipped and removed her jacket, hanging it on the back of her chair and revealing a crew neck sweater covered in tiny astronauts and rocket ships. When she sat across from him, her hands wrapped around the mug and her eyes met his.

“Hi.”

He couldn’t stop his lips from twitching, despite the events of the day. “You said that already.”

She laughed, and he felt the weight begin to lift. “Yeah, well, I haven’t seen you in forever, so— I’m just making up for lost time.”

“Sixty one days.”

“Hmm?”

“It’s been sixty one days, eighty eight minutes, and approximately,” he looked at his watch, “fourteen seconds since we saw each other last.”

She laughed again, and his mouth completed its curve. She tucked her hair behind her ear. “I like that you’ve been counting.” She let her chin come to rest in her hand, eyes studying his face. “How are you?”

He wanted to lie, but she was looking at him so earnestly that he mumbled out, “I’m managing.”

She mirrored the way he’d looked at her across this same table nearly three months ago. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.” That was a lie, too. But asking her to meet him was enough of a burden.

“Okay. Well, if you change your mind at any point, let me know.” She wiggled her eyebrows at him. “Until then, I can just regale you with all the kindergarten stories you’ve missed while you were out saving lives.”

And regale him she did. For almost an hour, he listened to her tales of love (budding crushes were taking over recess time), loss (the class pet— a stuffed zebra— had accidentally taken a swim in the Atlantic on a vacation to Florida), and lessons learned…

“So, in case there was ever any doubt, we are now painfully aware that we shouldn’t attempt to flush our underwear.” Y/N let out an exasperated laugh.

She’d been talking to him for fifty three minutes, and his heart already felt one thousand times lighter. “I’m really glad I wasn’t there for that one.”

“I really wish that was the only poop story I had.” She shook her head. “There are a lot of things they don’t tell you in grad school. I think there’d be a global teacher shortage if they warned you about the amount of bodily fluid management involved in teaching kindergarten.”

She toyed with the edge of her empty mug. He watched the movement of her fingers.

“Do you—”

She laughed and gestured for him to speak first.

“Do you want to get out of here?”

…

They ended up in Mitchell Park. The trees were bare and the grass was brown, but he was with her, and so it was beautiful.

They’d been walking in comfortable silence, when she asked, “Did you change your mind? About talking about it.”

Spencer put his hands into his pockets. “It’s, um— it’s kind of a lot.”

She shrugged. “I’ve got time.”

“I don’t mean— I mean, it would take some time to get through it all. But it’s also— it’s a lot.”

“We don’t have to.” He could feel her eyes on him. “Do you talk to— someone about it?”

“I talked with my unit chief today,” he answered.

“Okay. But— I mean, have you ever— talked to someone. Like, a professional.”

Spencer bristled slightly. Although he knew she wasn’t passing judgement, her question exposed the reality that she thought he could use it. “I’ve had some mandated counseling over the years.”

“Obviously it’s your choice whether you talk to someone or not,” she mused. “I just— I know that I’ve benefited a lot from seeing my therapist.”

Spencer was unsure of what to do with that information. Here she was, confessing that she went to therapy— sweet, lovely Y/N. In comparison, he wasn’t sure if even daily meetings with a counselor would be enough to tame the darkness that had grown and festered inside him over the years. That sometimes threatened to swallow him whole.

For a long while, there was only the crunch of the frozen ground beneath their feet. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but there was an uncertainty about them that felt uncharacteristically heavy. He was hyper aware of her presence, and so he felt her pace slowing down before she came to a complete stop. He walked a few more paces before it became clear that she wasn’t planning to catch up.

He turned and saw that she’d taken a seat on one of the park benches. He carefully made his way to the bench, sitting beside her quietly. She didn’t look at him, but instead studied her fingernails intently. She cracked her knuckles once, twice, and then turned her body slightly toward him on the bench.

“I’m sorry if I overstepped,” she hedged carefully. “I didn’t mean to tell you what to do, or like, imply that there’s anything wrong with you. There’s nothing wrong with you at all. I just—”

“It’s fine,” Spencer assured her. The way she looked at him then— like he was something fragile, delicate— made his eyes burn. He kept his voice even. “I know what you meant.”

She smiled, eyes crinkling and filled with something that felt familiar and far away all at once. “Good. I can’t have you out here thinking you’re anything less than wonderful.”

He couldn’t stop looking at her, attempting to solve the impossible cypher behind her irises. As he failed to decode it, his inability to read her blinded him to what came next. He missed the dilation of her pupils, the way her tongue darted out to wet her lips, the increase of the beats in her carotid. So when she leaned in and pressed her mouth to his, he was momentarily paralyzed.

Her lips were so soft against his slightly chapped ones, pressing with a perfectly gentle pressure. She brought her hand up to cradle his cheek, the pads of her fingers just barely ghosting the curls falling around his ear. She sighed into his mouth and pressed a little closer. He took one peaceful moment to bask in the realization of a desire he’d had for almost four months.

And then she swiped the very tentative tip of her tongue against the seam of his mouth, and his hands involuntarily wound into her hair, dragging her closer. He opened his mouth against hers to swallow her sweet little gasp. His grip on her hair tightened, and she let out the tiniest mewl, and like a switch had flipped— suddenly his mind was full of the darkness she’d spent the evening chasing away.

Y/N beneath him in the dark. Maeve in a pool of blood. His hands around Cat’s neck. His mother’s slap against his cheek. Max walking away from him. His fingers pressing the plunger on a dirty syringe. The slam of the door behind his father. Y/N calling out his name. A knife at his throat under a canopy of bones. Innumerable sets of lifeless eyes staring up at him. His life being snuffed out on the dirt floor of a shed. The clanging of metal bars and fingers ghosting over old bruises. Y/N looking at him with warm, loving eyes. The violent crack of bone underneath his fists. Y/N’s face, lovely and perfect— and then twisted in pain.

He broke away from her, releasing his hold on her hair and pushing her back into the bench. He took a second to gather himself before he dared to look at her. Her hair was tousled from his rough grip; her eyes were half-lidded and focused on him; her lips were red and kiss-bruised and turned up in a small, sweet smile.

And all at once he knew he had to hurt her, and it had to be now. Because what Cat had said about him was true. He might have escaped his mother’s illness, but he hadn’t been able to outrun the violence— and unlike her, he didn’t have the excuse of being sick. He had hurt people, and he had enjoyed it. He would have killed Hurley, and he would have slept soundly. He was no better than the men his team hunted.

Every time he thought he’d moved past it, that wickedness lurking just under the surface would grab him by the throat, choking everything else out. Emily’s directive rang in his ears. Find that Reid and bring him back to us. He knew who she was talking about. The problem was, he wasn’t sure that person still existed.

He was going to hurt Y/N eventually. Better to do it now, before things got too far.

“You’re Michael’s teacher,” he said, as evenly as possible.

Her smile faltered, and she pressed her lips together. He could still feel the phantom press of them against his own, and he was sure he’d never forget it. She cleared her throat. “You’re right, you’re totally right. I, um— I won’t be in a few months, and maybe then—”

“You don’t even know me,” he interrupted.

Now there was confusion in her eyes. That much he could read. She huffed out a small laugh. “I— I don’t think that’s entirely true.”

He looked directly at her. “Why? Because you read my bio on a university website? Because we got tea a couple times?” His voice sounded harsh, patronizing, and he hated it.

Her confusion shifted into shock, and he ignored the tug on his heart. “Are you serious?” she questioned, genuinely searching for a sign that he was joking.

“Dead serious.” He shrugged, and it felt like his bones were breaking. “You don’t really know anything about me, Y/N. If you did, you wouldn’t be sitting here right now.”

“Where— where is this coming from?” Her voice was small, close to breaking. He lined up the last nail on the lid of the coffin.

“Maybe I gave you the wrong impression. I’ve appreciated talking to you. Volunteering in your classroom was entertaining. But I don’t— I don’t see you that way.” It was a lie, and if he didn’t have such a practiced poker face, she might have seen through it. As it was, his poker face had helped get him banned from every casino in Vegas, so he watched her as he hammered the final nail. “You’re just Michael’s kindergarten teacher.”

“Oh.” The hurt flashed across her features— the furrow of her brow, the tightening of her mouth, the storm clouds in her eyes. “Well, I— I really read this wrong, huh?” She laughed, but there was no humor in it.

“Yeah.” He put his hands into his pockets to keep himself from reaching for her, the desire to comfort her a strange juxtaposition to the pain he was intentionally inflicting on her. “I guess so.”

She opened and closed her mouth twice before taking a deep breath and nearly whispering, “Okay. Well. I’m— I’m gonna go.”

She brushed some imaginary dust from her pants and then stood. She turned to him, and he waited for her to explode— to scream and curse at him. But it didn’t come. She didn’t look at him at all. “Um— yeah. I’m gonna go.”

He didn’t say anything, and he knew she’d take his silence as indifference. But he had to keep his mouth shut, because if he didn’t, he’d beg her to stay. He’d tell her every single random piece of information he had stored in his brain. He’d tell her that he loved her from the moment he watched her help a child pick a solution from a pencil box. He’d tell her that he only ever dreamt of two things these days— her or the lives he didn’t save. He’d tell her every single one of his deepest, darkest secrets. He’d tell her that sometimes he was so afraid of himself that he could barely breathe. And if he told her all of that, she’d walk away anyway.

So instead, he watched her turn and start back up the path, hugging her arms around herself and swiping her cheek against her scarf.

When she disappeared over the slope of the path, he scrubbed his hands over his own damp face and let himself break.

———

Permanent tags: @andiebeaword @averyhotchner @pinkdiamond1016 @shadyladyperfection @coffeeandendlesswords @justanothetfangirl @no-honey-no @ajeff855 @sapphic-prentiss @eevee0722 @rexorangecouny @rainsong01 @goldentournesol @blameitonthenight21 @moviequeen51 @90spumkin

Series tags: @spacedikut @uhuhuh @itsametaphorbriansblog @magenta145 @annesauriol @watermelongubler @ampal98 @meowiemari @mrsmyaweasley @mggsprettygirl @ceeellewrites @daybabyx @joalsglasses @chevyimpala00067 @misshale21 @ilzieah @froggybagels @gublersbooblers @matthcwgraygubler @takeyourleap-of-faith @mrs-dr-reid @flklrevrmre @andromedasstarship @joodeduarte

Broken tags: @saspencereid @this-is-gublerween

#spencer reid #spencer x reader #spencer x y/n #spencer x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds self insert #spencer reid imagine #homoose writes #tmsidk

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salemorbit · 3 years

Text

Do-Over

[Pro Hero!Katsuki Bakugou x Pro Hero!Reader]

warnings: angst y'all i'm feeling angsty; ends with fluff hehe; it's a LONG one boys!!

~~~~~~~

in which you and bakugou hit a speed bump in your relationship

~~~~~~~

You dropped your keys on the table next to your door, slamming it shut with a sigh. You grimaced as you turned awkwardly to strip off your jacket, your shoulder twinging with pain from a minor injury during your recent scuffle.

The apartment was dark, not a soul around to greet you or wait up for you at such an hour. And that was fine, that was how you lived. But deep down inside, at this moment, you felt a pang in your chest that took the shape of a specific blond haired fireball.

Slipping your phone out of your back pocket, you unlocked it and let your thumb glide instinctively to the contact that you talked to the most. You pressed the call button and held the phone to your ear, slipping off your shoes gratefully.

It went to voicemail. Not even his mailbox was set up, just the automated number played in your ear. You let the robotic voice run through its mantra before leaving a message at the tone.

"Hey, it's me. I just got home. I...just wanted to make sure you were okay." You fiddled with your belt. "Call me when you get this."

You clicked end and slid your phone on the counter, leaving it be while you undressed from your work clothes. You cradled your whining shoulder as you slid off your shirt and tossed it aside, mentally making a note to do laundry later.

The past few days at your hero agency had been hard. There were so many hoodlums and villains clogging up your to-do list that you barely had time to call your boyfriend and make sure he was doing all right. It was radio silence from him nearly all week.

But you two had been busy. For some reason, this week was the one time that every baddie wanted to cause chaos. Or at least it felt like it. You slumped down on your dingy couch and stared at the ceiling. Hero work was exhausting, and you didn't even know if it paid off in the long run.

And just a few hours ago you were dealing with a messy explosion of villainy in the middle of your district. It was hard to keep the destruction in check, and you had gotten minorly injured in the process. Your sore shoulder was a scar to boot.

Katsuki had been there, in fact a few of his co-workers had been, too. But he didn't pay you any special attention. You didn't know if that bothered you or not.

Yes, you were both on the job and vowed not to let your relationship get in the way of your hero work as much as possible. On the other hand, you hadn't seen or spoken to Katsuki in a whole week, and the first time you had and he didn't even nod a greeting. What was his issue? It wasn't like you had gotten into an argument or anything.

Shuddering out of thought, you heard your phone buzz once on the counter. You got up and checked it, half expecting it to just be a junk mail message. You were surprised to see that it was a message from Katsuki himself.

I'm home. Goodnight.

You frowned. That was it? You called and left a message, he hadn't spoken to you all week, and all he sent was a three word text?

You didn't know what overcame you, but the frustration inside bubbled up and spilled over in an instant. You turned and activated your quirk out of pure adrenaline, chucking your phone across the room and sending it straight through the apartment wall and soaring into the street below.

That calmed you down quickly. You ran over to your window and threw up the sash, looking down and around for your shattered piece of a phone. But it was gone. You sighed heavily and shut the window, storming into your bedroom and falling into your sheets with a huff.

Now you needed a new phone and, quite possibly, a new boyfriend.

•••

The next day you were off of work, so you took a pain reliever for your shoulder and headed to the nearest phone store to get a new phone. After awkwardly explaining the situation to the clerk, you received a new model and decided to pay a visit to the one man who had gotten you so riled up in the first place.

Katsuki would've been lying if he said he wasn't relieved to see you on the other side of his door that afternoon. He'd had a tiring week, and honestly all he wanted to do was spend time with you and recharge for the most part before doing it all over again.

What he wasn't prepared for, however, was the frown on your face and the angry tapping of your foot as you stood in his doorway.

"You seem unbothered," you said shortly. Katsuki furrowed his eyebrows and let himself get shoved aside as you bustled into his apartment.

"Who pissed in your cornflakes?" Katsuki muttered as he shut the door. You grit your teeth and crossed your arms, obviously unhappy, though Katsuki couldn't figure out why.

"Go look in the mirror and take a guess," you glowered. "What's your issue? Why haven't you returned any of my messages this week?"

"I've been busy, you know that," Katsuki crossed his arms as well, not allowing you to have an intimidation factor in this conversation. "This week was hell."

"It was busy for me, too, but I still made the time."

"What are you going on about, dunceface?"

"Your inability to communicate!" You threw your hands in the air. "I've been trying to check in on you this week, but you haven't responded, if at all. And you didn't call me back last night! Just a text? One? I wanted to make sure you were okay after that fight, and you didn't even humor me."

"So? I'm fine."

"I didn't know that," you stressed. Katsuki let out a breath, still not getting it, and this made you even more angry.

"I don't know where this sudden clinginess is coming from-"

"It's not being clingy!" You erupted. "Are you so dense that you haven't realized how checked-out you've been recently? I've given you multiple opportunities to pick up the slack. I've excused your behaviours, given you space, and respected your silence this entire time. You haven't given me anything to work with. It's called being concerned and trying to keep our relationship going, which you don't seem the least bit interested in doing."

"And what if I'm not?" Katsuki growled, just plain upset you were accusing him of things he wasn't doing, at least in his mind. "What would you do if I didn't want to keep this schtick up, huh?"

"Then I'd be wasting my time standing here," you snapped. "And I'd have wasted the last two years on you."

Katsuki felt something in his chest cry, shattering and splitting through the floor below his feet. He grit his teeth and closed his eyes, trying his best not to set his living room on fire.

You were there. You were right there, somewhere you hadn't been for the last week. And yeah, he'll admit that maybe he's been a bit distant lately, and the sudden influx in hero-work definitely wasn't helping the situation either. But he was trying to deal with things he hadn't quite felt before, one of those things being his feelings for you.

As of recent, something had shifted in his gut. He wasn't sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing, and it wasn't like he was going to consult Kirishima or Kaminari about this. God knows they'd just make fun of him for worrying about your relationship.

Did he feel ashamed? Was it embarrassing him that he felt like this for someone? Katsuki Bakugou didn't get embarrassed, so what was this?

"I think we're done here," you muttered, looking down to hide the tears welling up in your eyes. You slid around Katsuki to reach the door, but you were stopped by Katsuki grabbing your arm gently.

You jerked your arm from his grasp, turning to look at him with your chin held high, keeping your trembling lip from showing itself. Katsuki had something in his eyes that had never been there before, and you hated it. You hated that you couldn't read him anymore.

"I don't know you like I thought I did, Bakugou." He flinched at that one. "This was obviously a mistake. I'll see you around."

And you were out the door and out of his range, leaving Katsuki Bakugou to stand in his living room at a loss for words. Something he hadn't been ever since he first met you.

•••

You took the breakup terribly, to say the least.

Yes, you were technically the one who broke it off, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt to do it. You didn't want to shut things down like that, but Katsuki had left you no choice. He wasn't getting it, and it felt like he was going to continue to not get it. You just couldn't spend your energy like that anymore.

Mina and Momo were there for you from the second you broke down at a bus stop and called them to pick you up. They were there in a split second, not pressuring you for information until you wanted to tell them.

They were more disappointed in Katsuki than mad. They didn't like how he hadn't been communicating things with you about how he felt or why he had been distant. You broke and told them how it had been going on like this for almost a month now, and this last week was just the tipping point. They backed your decision and got you anything you needed for the next few days, until you were able to be on your own and process the emotions you felt.

Katsuki hadn't tried to call you at all. No texts, emails, voicemails. Your phone was a dry desert, except for the concerned text Midoriya sent you after you assumed Mina and Momo had told him about the debacle. He offered to talk to Katsuki about it, but you declined. It was best to just let it be, let it sink in that Katsuki had messed up royally.

Meanwhile, the man in question was quiet for the next few days. His coworkers noticed his lack of remarks, his friends noticed his distant appearances. All Katuski had been doing since you walked out that door was think. He was thinking long and hard about what he wanted, where you fit into his life, and the way he had acted as of recent. This was quite possibly the most Katsuki had ever thought about anything; typically he was so sure on the get-go that he needn't time to stop and reflect.

But this was different. You were different.

It wasn't until the next Saturday after your breakup that Katsuki found himself on the other side of your apartment door, hand poised to knock. He decided he didn't want to do something like this over the phone; it was just too impersonal. So he mustered up the courage to face you again, and prayed you wouldn't throw him out of your four-story high window in the process.

He knocked, waited. No answer. Getting slightly annoyed, he knocked again, louder. Still no answer.

Katuski was now incredibly annoyed, and bent down to take the key from under your doormat and just unlock the damn thing himself. As he lifted the mat, he saw a slip of paper taped to the floor where the key should've been:

Don't try to break in. Calling the police is not below me.

Katsuki huffed, standing up and going to knock on the door again when he was interrupted by the rustling of paper bags. He turned over his shoulder and saw you standing on the opposite end of the hallway, holding some grocery bags in your arms and staring right at the blond standing on your doormat.

There was a tense few moments of silence before you broke it, audibly frustrated.

"Can you get out of the way so I can put these inside?" You frowned. Katsuki blinked, then moved aside to let you fumble your key in the lock dumbly.

"I can-"

"Shut up," was all you said before opening the door and letting it bang against the inside wall. Katuski stood on the threshold, unsure of if he should just walk in or not, before inviting himself in as soon as he figured you wouldn't give him the time of day. He watched from your counter as you passive aggressively slammed things on the counter or into their place in your kitchen.

"Care telling me why you're here?" You asked, flat-toned and not looking at Katsuki in the slightest.

"I wanted to talk."

"About?"

He rolled his eyes. "Us, dimwit."

You stopped and let your head hang, propping yourself on the counter with your hands spread flat. You still didn't look up at him, which was greatly pissing him off.

"We already did. Last week," you said.

"That wasn't a conversation," Katsuki ground out. "That was you coming to me and exploding out of nowhere. I didn't even have the chance to-"

"It wasn't out of nowhere," you interjected.

"Stop interrupting me, damn it, and just let me talk!" Katsuki spat. You looked up at him with a withered look, making his fire simmer down immediately.

"Fine," you said, voice wavering slightly. Katsuki cleared his throat and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" He smiled slightly, bittersweet. You didn't react, so he went on.

"You're an idiot because you've got terrible tunnel vision," he said, glancing at the living room that looked like you had been sleeping in. You had a perfectly tangible bed in the next room, but there were just too many memories in there for you to spend the night in again.

"I can see fine," you grumbled.

"No, you can't," Katsuki looked back at you. "You haven't been able to see how hard I've been trying these last few weeks to figure things out. Figure us out."

"Well how the hell am I supposed to know that if you don't tell me anything?" You asked, trying to keep your voice from rising. The last thing you needed was a fight. You were just too tired.

"That's...something I need to work on," Katsuki muttered, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "And I will admit that. Don't make fun of me for it."

"I never said I would."

"Great, because I gotta whole lotta other things to admit to." His eyes narrowed. "I don't wanna hear shit from you for the next five minutes, got it?"

You sighed, miming zipping your mouth shut as you went back to putting away your groceries. You might as well let him talk, since you knew his stubbornness wouldn't let him leave your kitchen so soon without him getting in his two cents.

"I've been thinking long and hard lately," he began. "On my own. Nothin' from anyone else except my own thoughts. So this is one hundred percent me.

"I screwed up. I did. And it took me a minute to realize it because I was so much in my head about things. I was so focused on trying not to mess us up that I went and did that shit anyway. And all you've been is supportive and caring, and quite honestly I don't know how to handle that since I haven't really been with anyone like that."

He was being honest, you knew from his tone of voice. It was a tone you had heard only a few times before this moment: when he told you he loved you. And you believed it.

Katsuki took in a breath: "So I'm here. And I'm sorry. At first I was mad at you for marchin' into my house the other day and spewing things I knew nothing about, but then I realized that you were spewing those things because you knew nothing about me and where I was at. And that was frustrating for you because you got that whole communication thing you like to do, or whatever."

"Or whatever," you mumbled to yourself, smiling slightly. He picked up on that, his spirits lifting a bit as well.

"I've just been thinking about things and where you are and who I want you to be to me as we live our lives. And I screwed it up by not talking to you about that either. It's a conversation we both should have. So," he sighed, "I'm sorry. And I'll continue to be sorry because you don't deserve to be left in the dark. I love you, and I want to be better."

He finished his little speech and the two of you were quiet. You had paused putting things away about halfway through, really listening to him and what he had to say. He deserved that from you in the least.

You looked up at him and saw that he had already been staring at you, an intent look in his eyes. It was your turn now. He wanted a response to his being vulnerable. You knew it wasn't easy for him to open up like that, despite the last two years of helping him get comfortable, so you didn't torture him with the suspense.

"We'll see," you said. Katsuki did a double take, eyebrows furrowing.

"We'll see?" He repeated. You nodded rounding your counter to stand in front of him.

"If we want to keep doing this for however many more years we keep doing this," the corner of your mouth lifted in a smirk, "then we'll just have to see."

"Great," Katsuki rolled his eyes and sent a seething glare out the window. "I totally lay myself on the train tracks and you just run me over like that. Thanks."

"But," you continued, trying to catch his eye, "I appreciate you coming to me. And I appreciate the apology. However, I won't know if I can accept it until I know you'll actually go through with it."

"Understandable," Katsuki sighed, comprehending this. "I deserve that one."

"Are you ready for a do-over?" You asked, catching his hands in yours. He couldn't help but notice a weight in his chest lift at the presence of your touch after weeks of barely anything. Katsuki still had some work to do, but it was worth it if he could keep you around.

"Always," he kissed you on the forehead and you smiled giddily.

"Awesome because we now have two weekends of cuddle-time to make up for, and my bedroom hasn't been used in a week," you led him to your door.

"Oh no," Katsuki complained sarcastically, "however will we make up for such lost time?"

"Shut up, you big doofus," you grinned. "You know you love me."

"That I do."

~~~~~~~

a teensy tiny bit of OOC bakugou near the end there but like. he'd be a sucker for that and totally willing if it was just the two of you around HAHA

anyways this was cute and i....am forever still in love w bakugou :))))

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edendaphne · 3 years

Text

“Discordant Sonata” Chapter 19

>>Click here to read on Ao3<<

>>Click here to read on Wattpad<<

–––––

CHAPTER 19: ATTACCA

Music glossary: Attacca - "To attack at once"; used as a direction in music at the end of a movement to begin the next without pause

–––––

(Mood music: "The Conversation" - Pearl Django)

Being mere months away from graduating lycée meant that their group of friends didn’t have as many classes together, due to their diverse individual interests and talents. However, they always made sure to make time to hang out after school before their extracurricular activities began.

And thus, Adrien, Nino, and Alya made their way to the classroom where the art club gathered to meet up with Marinette. From there, Adrien would make his way to either fencing lessons or Chinese, depending on the day of the week. Marinette would join him on days when he had Chinese (as she’d become determined to master the language ever since her uncle visited from Shanghai a few years back), Alya would go to her journalism club, and Nino would travel to his part-time internship at the local recording studio.

“–and the backlogs just keep piling up!” Alya spoke as they walked, voice full of vigor and excitement. “I’ve had to recruit yet another mod to help me keep order in the forums! Especially since the Ladyblog has started going international and we’ve had to organize servers in different languages. You wouldn’t believe how crazy it’s gotten in there recently!”

“Dang, babe,” Nino interjected. “Sounds like things are super rough for you right now.”

“Not really, more busy than anything. Especially because I have that big research article due next week, there’s just not enough hours in the day to try to read everything that goes on in there. But I have my mods report to me daily, ‘cause I always like to stay on top of everything that goes on in the chats!”

“What’s gotten everyone so riled up in the Ladyblog lately?” Adrien chimed in. “I don’t recall it being nearly this busy last year.”

The trio entered the art club’s classroom and settled down at the table where Marinette sat, getting her various sketches organized. The art teacher was quite easy going, so they didn’t have to talk in hushed whispers and could come and go as they pleased.

“Well, to be honest, it’s because of Chat Noir,” Alya replied.

Adrien tried to contain his surprise. “R-really? What– uhhh, what do people have to say about him?”

He winced inwardly. He knew he shouldn’t ask. But curiosity got the better of him today. Maybe learning the news through the filter or Alya’s paraphrasing instead of reading the negative comments firsthand would lessen the sting of what people said about him.

Marinette whipped her head around at the mention of his alter ego. “Wait, what about Chat Noir?” she inquired.

“Girl,” Alya replied, her voice filled with renewed exuberance. “You would not believe how much we’ve had to censor and moderate all the inappropriate things people have been saying!”

Adrien flinched in his seat. “Wow… do people really hate him that much?” he asked, trying to conceal the dejection in his voice.

Alya busted out into loud guffaws. “Hate?! Dude, most people don’t hate him; they LOVE him! By ‘inappropriate’ comments, I mean the kinda stuff you wouldn’t want your grandma to catch you reading! There’s a whole giant section dedicated to his new fan club!” she said as she removed her glasses so she could wipe away the tears of laughter.

“WHAT?!” Adrien squawked in confusion, his face feeling hotter than the ovens back at the bakery. “A fan club??”

Marinette burst into uncontrollable snickering. “Has it really gotten that bad?!”

Nino joined in, “Bro! Adrien, I can’t believe you haven’t heard Alya rant about these rabid fans before! They call themselves the ‘Noir Nation’, and the kind of things they’ve been writing would make adult romance authors blush like schoolgirls!”

Alya nodded, thoroughly amused. “And that’s not including all the fanfiction people have been writing.”

“Wait– the WHAT?! There’s fanfiction?!!” Marinette gaped in shock, as if she’d been hit in the face with an enormous pie. “Alya, how come I never knew about this?!”

“Why? You wanna read em? Girl, you’ll get no judgment from me. If you wanna check ‘em out for yourself, just go check under the hashtag ‘Ladynoir’.”

Marinette stammered as her arms flailed in her bewilderment, accidentally knocking her phone off the table and onto the floor, her eyes bigger and rounder than Adrien had ever seen them. “They have a ship name?!” she screeched.

“Just mind the ratings though,” Alya advised. “Some of them can get pretty steamy. You wouldn’t want someone to catch you reading those in public,” she added with a wink.

Marinette continued to sputter incoherently. “NO, I am NOT gonna read it!! It would be different if they were fictional characters, but I could never read fanfiction about real people!”

Alya raised a skeptical eyebrow at her. “Mm-hmm… Sure.”

Marinette’s hands flew to her face, trying to hide how red her entire face had gotten, and released a long squeak that resembled a hamster on helium. As shocked as Adrien was about these rather unexpected news, seeing Marinette’s over-the-top reaction brought a wide grin to his face and he busted out laughing.

He bent over to retrieve Marinette’s phone, since she was too busy being mortified to notice it had fallen to the floor. As he was about to hand it back, the screen lit up and Adrien saw the lockscreen wallpaper: it was the same photo of Ladybug and Chat Noir that he himself had saved earlier that day. He smiled, not exactly sure what to make of it, but finding it adorable that she’d liked the photo enough to set it as her lockscreen.

He tapped her shoulder, waiting for her to respond. She emerged from behind her impromptu hand shield and turned her head, then her eyes widened once again as soon as she saw what Adrien was showing her. She jolted straight up, stiff as a board, and her eyes met his, cheeks turning tomato red. He winked at her, amused about this little secret between them, and handed back her phone without a word.

Marinette accepted it with a meek-sounding, “Thanks,” looking like she wanted to explain the photo, but not able to do so unless she wanted Alya and Nino to find out that she was potentially a… ahem– “Ladynoir” shipper.

Switching the conversation to something else (which Marinette seemed to be eternally grateful for), the group chatted until it became time for them to scatter to their next destinations.

With a wave, Adrien exited the classroom and headed towards fencing practice, one of the few activities he decided to stick with despite not being forced to participate. Fencing, along with Chinese lessons, were not only enjoyable, but were also quite useful. Sadly, he didn’t have access to a piano anymore, so he wasn’t able to pursue that hobby for the time being. Hopefully later down the line, when things had settled down and he’d found his own place to live, he’d be able to finance one.

Thinking about the future had become an exciting pastime instead of an anxiety-inducing one, and it was all thanks to his friends and those he cared about. He smiled as he reached the door to the locker rooms, continuing to daydream of what was to come.

(Mood music: "Recollection 3" - Shirō Sagisu (BLEACH OST, "The Diamond Dust Rebellion")

Adrien finished getting dressed for fencing, his head still blissfully floating in the clouds. He stored his belongings into his assigned locker, shutting it with a loud clang, which echoed through the empty room.

Huh...? Empty?

He swiveled his head around, surprised that there was no one beside him. He stood up and began walking down the large room, peeking down the other locker rows looking for his classmates; but there was nobody.

Where was everyone? There’s no way that every single one of them was running late. Had his lessons been cancelled and he’d somehow missed a text message or email? He began heading back towards his locker to check his phone for any schedule changes.

Before he reached his destination, however, heavy thudding footsteps broke the eerie silence. Adrien whipped his body around to greet whoever they belonged to.

The owner of those footsteps was one of the last people Adrien expected to meet here.

“Gaspard?!”

Adrien stood agape, face to face with his old bodyguard, whom he hadn’t seen in a couple of years; not since he’d resigned and moved out of the country. Nathalie had mentioned that in his resignation letter, Gaspard said that he’d become involved in an overseas business venture involving the market of rare action figures. Nevertheless, Adrien couldn’t help but suspect that his father’s ill temper and poor treatment of their employees was the true reason for his departure.

Adrien’s first reaction was surprise and joy, and he rushed forward to greet and embrace him. However, as he approached and got a better look at the man’s face, Adrien’s mood instantly morphed into confusion and apprehension. There was something odd about his eyes.

Something wasn’t right. Why was Gaspard here? And why now?

He came to a halt about a meter before reaching him. An oppressive weight seemed to press in all around him, and he had to suppress a shiver. “Wait. Gaspard, did–” he gulped, “–did my father send you?”

His old bodyguard did not reply, but took a heavy step towards him. Adrien stepped back.

“Please… I can’t go back. I live somewhere else now, and I’m very happy there. Whatever he told you about the situation, it’s a lie.”

His bodyguard continued to approach him, his stare vacant and unsettling.

Fighting the urge to panic, he pleaded, “You don’t have to do this. If he’s offered you compensation, I can match it; it’ll just take me a bit of time. But we can work something out, right?? For old time’s sake?”

He continued walking backwards until he bumped into something firm, but it wasn’t a wall; it was another person. Before he could turn around, they grabbed him by the shoulders, detaining him and preventing him from running away.

He was about to shout for help when something sharp jabbed him on the side of the neck, injecting a cold liquid. Adrien’s eyes grew wide in terror.

Shit.

Adrien swore as he jerked away, elbowing whoever was behind him and managing to break free. Rubbing at the spot where the syringe had stabbed him, he glanced back to take a look at his other assailant, only to see... another Gaspard?

Why are there two of him??

This was wrong. Gaspard didn’t have a twin; he knew that for a fact. He’d worked for the Agrestes ever since Adrien was a toddler and was too young to even pronounce his name correctly (hence the nickname “Gorille”, which stuck around for years afterwards). Additionally, there was something uncanny, otherworldly, even, about the way these two men looked and moved.

He shook himself out of his stupor. He didn’t have time to contemplate any possible explanations. He had to get out of there fast.

He sprinted towards the exit, but only managed to travel a few paces before he lost his footing and tripped. He fell to the ground hard, almost hitting his head on a nearby bench. As he struggled to get up, he realized that his fingers and toes had already gone numb.

Not good.

Time was running out. Adrenaline coursed through him and, with a grunt, he hefted himself to his feet and scrambled towards the exit, as fast as he could despite a heavy limp. Though his heart was hammering and his legs felt like they were filled with sand, he pushed himself, concentrating on reaching the door.

After taking a few steps, however, he realized that even if he did manage to exit the locker room, the area beyond was an open courtyard. Meaning he wasn’t going to be able to reach someplace safe before getting caught. He had no choice but to transform into Chat Noir, and hopefully Plagg’s powers and strength could help him escape and find somewhere to hide.

He’d scarcely uttered the first syllable in the transformation phrase when he was tackled to the ground. A giant hand swiftly covered his mouth and Adrien felt his hands get bound together with thick zip ties behind his back. A muffled scream of writhing frustration made its way up his throat as his limbs became more and more useless by the second.

No… This can’t be happening! Please, this can’t be how it all ends!

Just when his life had finally gained a semblance of normalcy and he’d found happiness again, it would get ripped away and he would disappear without a trace, leaving everyone to wonder what had happened to him. Leaving his friends to think that Gabriel had pulled him from school and they would never see him again. Leaving Ladybug to wonder if Chat had abandoned her forever. Leaving her to fight Hawkmoth alone. Again.

He couldn’t let that happen. He thrashed and struggled as furiously as he could, fighting the feelings of overwhelming helplessness that threatened to consume him. Nearing despair, he was too distracted to notice Plagg phrasing through the wall, away from the skirmish, in search of the only person who could save him.

(Mood music: "Run" - Ludovico Einaudi)

Marinette fidgeted with her pencil, her feet wiggled and bounced under her desk. She didn’t understand; when she’d arrived at the art club, her head had been filled with inspiration and ideas that she’d been excited to draw and execute. However, at the moment, her mind was filled with noise and disquietude.

Having had enough, she excused herself to visit the restroom. Once she’d walked far enough from the classroom, she opened her purse to talk to Tikki about her current dilemma.

“It’s the same feeling as last night, Tikki! Except that would mean one of three possibilities. Option A.) It’s nothing and I’m going crazy. And— don’t give me that look, Tikki! I can see what you’re thinking and I don’t have time for your cheeky sass right now!” The kwami snickered while Marinette cleared her throat and continued, “Option B.) that Chat is here, at this school, which is impossible because his school’s on the other side of the city, that’s why he always leaves the house super early for his long commute.”

Tikki opened her mouth and looked like she was about to say something, but then didn’t (...or couldn’t?).

Marinette resumed, “Or, C.) that my–– what do I even call it? My ‘Spidey sense’??–– that it’s got a long distance mode, and Chat is all the way across Paris and he’s in trouble! But what am I supposed to do about that from here?! I wouldn’t even know where to begin looking!”

Tikki shrugged. “Follow your instincts, Marinette. There’s no harm in taking a quick look around the school, right?”

Marinette groaned. “UGH! It doesn’t make sense!! Am I going to get interrupted like this all the time from now on?” She shook her head resolutely. “No. I can’t just go off on random field trips every single time I feel a random fit of anxiety. I’m sure it’s just leftover jitters from last night. I’m supposed to call Master Fu after school anyway; he can help me figure everything out. I’m just gonna go back to class and forget about it.”

Tikki frowned, not quite convinced, but deciding not to press further.

Marinette made her way back to the classroom in a frustrated huff. But as her hand reached to turn the handle, the feelings of danger and urgency multiplied tenfold. Without a word, she sprinted away in the opposite direction, not even knowing where she was running to, only knowing she had to get there immediately.

She reached the large common area of the school downstairs. Her head whipped around, frantically searching for something, anything. In her haste, she didn’t notice a small black creature zoom into her open purse.

A few moments later, she felt a frantic tugging at her shirt from below.

“Marinette!! Over there! Check the locker room, quick!!!” Tikki whisper-screamed as she peeked outside the purse, her tone uncharacteristically frantic.

Marinette nodded, then sprinted to the locker room.

“Wait! You should transform first!” Tikki added.

No time!

“Marinette, wait!!”

Despite Tikki’s protests, Marinette raced towards the double doors, tackling them open.

Three sets of eyes landed on her as she skidded to a halt, but only one pair consumed her entire attention. She gasped in horror, hands flying to her face as she stared at what was occurring in front of her. Adrien let out a desperate, muffled scream urging her to run.

His panicked voice snapped her out of her dazed shock; but instead of running, she stood her ground, eyes darting back and forth across the area searching for something useful. The room was remarkably barren except for a lone broom a short distance away from her. She grabbed it and leaped towards the closest attacker (the one holding Adrien down), swinging it like a baseball bat.

The man didn’t even try to avoid the hit; the broomstick merely bounced off the side of his face where Marinette had hit him. She frowned in confusion, then tried hitting him again, bringing the stick down on the top of his head like an axe.

SNAP.

The end of the broom flew off, and Marinette stared in shock at the broken broomstick.

“What the hell are you?!” Marinette exclaimed, shifting her grip on the shortened wooden stub.

She pounced at the second bodyguard, bringing her weapon down in a stabbing motion; but he swatted at her hand, disarming her. She yelped in pain, leaping backwards to get some distance between them.

She was outmatched. The only strategy available was to use their own size against them. With a feint to the side, she shot at his legs for a takedown, hoping to catch him off balance. He called her bluff and shoved her backwards with his giant palm, then kneed her in the stomach.

Winded from the impact, Marinette doubled over with a gasping wheeze, fighting with all her might to keep herself from collapsing onto the ground. She forced herself upright and attacked again. With a clumsy jerk, she lunged forward, swinging wild punches at her opponent. The shots connected but his expression barely changed; it was like beating a breathing punching bag.

The bodyguard backhanded Marinette across the face. Pain shooting across her cheek, she staggered, almost losing her balance. In her daze, she watched helplessly as the man reared his arm back. There was no chance to dodge. His fist connected with her abdomen, delivering a liver shot that shut down her entire body. She crumpled to the floor as if boneless. She tried to call out Adrien’s name, but her mouth merely opened in a silent scream.

Marinette could hear Adrien’s distressed screaming, but it sounded distant, like they were underwater. The edges of her vision grew black and fuzzy, the entire room dissolving around her. She had to consciously force her lungs to inhale, but couldn’t fill them all the way, as if a boulder had been placed on top of her chest.

Faintly, she felt herself getting picked up off the ground and carried away over someone’s shoulder. Disoriented and semi-blinded, the sudden movement and rough jostling made her head spin and gave her vertigo. She gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block it all out.

A few moments later, they stopped moving, and she heard a door burst open. Where were they? Before she could gather her senses, she was in the air, thrown several meters away, landing with a hard thud. A sharp pain traveled down her body as she rolled into the wall across them. The shriek that tried to escape her throat emerged as a strained, shallow whine.

The man stomped out, leaving her alone in the room. “Stop…!” she rasped out, managing to tilt her neck upwards, head pounding.

The bodyguard slammed the door shut, followed by a bang and a clattering sound that could only mean he’d broken the doorknob of whatever room she was in.

Marinette's vision became more and more blurred. At the verge of losing consciousness, she fought to keep her eyes open as tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.

No, she couldn’t pass out! She had to save Adrien! Stay awake, Marinette, stay awake!!

She bit down on her lip hard, focusing on the sharp sting, on the swelling that was already forming around her right eye, forcing herself to feel the pain her body was in. At this moment, feeling pain was better than falling unconscious. She concentrated on her breathing, slowly regaining her senses.

She reached down to open her purse and get Tikki’s help… only to be met with emptiness. Panic settled in her gut as she realized that sometime during the skirmish, the purse had slipped off her shoulder. She sat up, slowly, so she wouldn’t risk feeling faint again from the change in positions.

She squinted, adjusting her eyesight to the darkness of the room. It seemed to be some sort of supply closet. After a failed few attempts to stand, she crawled towards the door instead, careful not to bump into the crates and shelves that filled the area.

The girl eyed the broken doorknob wearily. She was pretty proficient at lockpicking and breaking into things, but not as good at breaking out. Her only hope was that Tikki would be able to find her… if she was even nearby.

She swore to herself. Why had she rushed in and attacked two grown ass men (who, incidentally, may or may not be supernatural to boot!) instead of hiding and creating a strategy?! Now she was useless, Tikki was gone, and Adrien was surely on his way to get auctioned to the highest bidder in the criminal black market and ransomed off for an enormous sum. Great job, Marinette. Adrien’s been abducted and it’s all your fault.

Gathering all the determination she could muster, she tried to call out for help. But her voice was still too hoarse, and only a weak croak came out. She clenched her fists, grumbling irritably. Time for a different approach. Somehow, she needed to make noise.

After a brief search, she found a hard, metallic object that she could use to hammer on the door. She tested it out; it was surprisingly effective. She doubled her efforts, making as big a racket as possible. Hopefully, it would only be a matter of time before somebody heard her, let her out, and she could go find Adrien.

She couldn’t let anything else happen to another loved one. Not again.

–––––

I'M REEEAAAAALLY SORRY FOR THAT CLIFFHANGER JSHDKFJHSKDF ᕕ(╯°д°)ᕗ I tried splitting up the sections differently but it didn't really flow as well.

But the next chapter is almost done, so I'll have it ready by next weekend!!

#Miraculous Ladybug #Ladynoir #Enemies AU #enemies to lovers #Marinette Dupain Cheng #Adrien Agreste #Chat Noir #Ladybug #fanfiction #Discordant Sonata #ML AU #aged up #Eden writes

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catboyshinsou · 3 years

Text

nightmares

pairing: shinsou x gn!reader

warnings: graphic descriptions of a nightmare, blood, death, panic attacks ?, kitty nickname, pro hero shinsou (sfw)

summary: you just moved in with shinsou but somehow nightmares have been plaguing you. one night you have the worst one yet

a/n: ty for 200 followers!! <33

Shinsou didn't sleep much. There was too much on his brain for him to waste precious time on sleep, there was too much to do, too much to think about. He knew it wasn't the healthiest thing to do but it's not like he deprived himself of sleep, his body just didn't let him and there wasn't much he could do about it. As an active Pro Hero there were just some sacrifices to be made for the job and if sleep loss was one of them then so be it.

You, on the other hand, managed to maintain a quite healthy sleeping schedule next to him. At least you tried to get continuous six hours of sleep every night, even if that still wasn't nearly enough for an average human being. But what could you do, there was a lot to do and not enough time to do it.

For some reason, Shinsou worried about you not sleeping enough. You chuckled when he brought it up to you at breakfast when you moved in with him.

“I don't think you're one to speak, Hitoshi.”

“Are you saying me not sleeping is something to not be worried about?”

You rolled your eyes and drank your tea. “I get enough sleep, don't worry about it okay?”

The dark circles under your eyes rivaled his, earning a frown from your boyfriend. He didn't like seeing you tired. He never has. Even though you were always tired, according to you, he could tell when your sleep quality was declining.

“Have you been having nightmares again?”

His purple eyes met yours as he swirled the coffee in his mug. Rain hit against the window and you heard the trees rustling in the wind.

Waking up in cold sweat, panting and almost crying before rushing to the bathroom to shock your system with cold water. It was a picture and feeling you knew too well. Nightmares and terrors did indeed haunt you like a little girl haunted a house. You've tried everything to ease them; medication, meditation, yoga, asmr, everything and still you had one at least once a week.

With the move into Shinsou’s apartment (because he was almost always working and wanted to see you more and his place was closer to your workplace anyway), it didn't really get better either even though his arms afterwards were always comforting. It felt more like symptomatic help not like you were finding a cause to make it stop though.

You took a deep breath. Was there a point in lying when he'd find out soon enough that you laid in bed almost scared to fall asleep when he was on night patrol because he wouldn't be there to calm you down if you did have one? Well, was it lying since you in theory didn’t currently have any nightmares?

“You know that no answer is an answer as well, kitty...” His low and soft voice crept up your neck as he put his arms around you. In the moments you were contemplating how much lying made sense, he'd finished his coffee and made his way to you for a lazy hug from behind.

He smelt nice, his slightly damp hair against your cheek as he rested his head on your shoulder. The purple tuffs tickled you as he got comfortable in the crook of your neck. You put his arms over his, on your tummy and took another breath.

“So you haven't been sleeping at all then?”

The only time you've been feeling comfortable and safe was when Hitoshi came home at 4 in the morning, slipped out his hero gear and got into bed with you. You, always pretending to be sleeping so he didn't worry, just waited for his whispered “goodnight kitty, i love you” as he put his arms around you for three or four more hours of sleep with you. Only then could you close your eyes and let yourself sink into your feared REM phase.

“You worry too much for me, 'Toshi…” With an exhausted sigh you leaned back, your head on his shoulder behind you. You traced circles on his forearm, feeling his goosebumps as you did.

“I'd be a crap hero if I cared for the general public but not for my love at home, wouldn't I?” He placed a kiss on your temple. “So?”

“I've been sleeping fine.”

“Y/n.” He stretched the last part of your name, his voice vibrating up your neck.

“You're free for the weekend right?”

Shinsou sighed at your attempt of changing subjects, not having enough energy to insist on you telling the truth. He hummed in response.

He had a two day break from hero work or at least from patrolling and going in. There was a ton of paperwork sitting on his desk for him, as well as 50 unread emails he had to get to. But he didn't complain. At least you were there to keep him company while you did your thing.

The two of you finished up breakfast and started into your day of free time which was actually just work in disguise.

Before you knew it, the day had passed and both of you laid in bed together, attempting to sleep. Well, you did. It was already well past midnight, everything around you quiet except for Shinsou who hummed a tune next to you and tapped on his keyboard.

He had his laptop on his lap, answering some more emails and scheduling their sending for 7am while making sure you knew he was there. You could feel his warmth under the blanket but the auditory reassurance helped.

You were on your tummy, facing away from you while hugging your pillow since your actual boyfriend wasn't up for cuddles right now. With closed eyes, you rolled over to face him.

“Hitoshi, go to sleep”, you said in a drowsy voice, half asleep yourself. “You can send the emails when you wake up…”

Shinsou just gave you a quick chuckle before kissing your head. “I'll be done in a minute, kitty. I just need a few more and then I’m all yours, I promise.”

His humming continued and he put his hand on your back, stroking it up and down until you were completely asleep. Your breaths got deeper and you moved around less, making your boyfriend smile.

It felt as if he had just gotten a toddler to sleep after watching a superhero movie, even if you had not been staying awake because you were restless but because you refused to go to bed if he wasn't in it. He had promised you that he would come to bed as soon as he could but both of you were stubborn. It was just a staring contest until Shinsou got up and carried his laptop to the bedroom with you pulling him at his hand.

Now, you laid next to him in peaceful manner, breathing, recharging.

"Toshi?”

You ran down the staircase, struggling with the heavy doors that separated each floor.

“Hitoshi?”

It never seemed to end, doors after doors after doors after doors. It was just doors going on. Heavy metal doors, painted white with cheap paint. It still smelled like paint in some of the staircases.

Your hands started slipping off the handles, sweat covering them like a thick layer of honey. You could hear a faint voice behind this even heavier door, needing your whole strength to open it up.

The clear sweat on your hands started staining the handle red. You pulled them back and stared at the blood covering your palms before looking back up and seeing Shinsou bloodied up in front of you.

He was panting, his face swollen and bruised and his hands tied behind his back. On his knees, he fell towards you with his capture weapon now a bright red instead of the usual dirty white.

“OH MY GOD, HITOSHI?”

You pushed him back to find the source of the flood, opening his hero suit and trying to untie his hands before he spat out blood all over you.

“You'll be fine okay? Everything is gonna be okay, you just need to stay awake and I'll find where you're bleeding from and it's gonna be fine, you can't leave me okay?”

A waterfall of words left you as you laid him on his back and examined his body. He just laughed and stared at the ceiling, his usually bright purple eyes now dull and almost grey.

You located his wound at his tummy right above the belly button, splurging out blood with his heavy breath. There was a faint whistle whenever he exhaled, you examined his chest and could feel a clearly broken rib.

Oh god, you weren't any type of medical care practitioner, what were you supposed to do?? Think, think, think…

“Kitty…” Shinsou put his cold hand on your tear stained cheeks.

“Shhh, don't talk okay??? I just need a second to figure things out, you'll be fine just- just stay awake okay??”

A hoarse chuckle left him. “Sorry for staining your white shirt… I know you always complain about how it never properly washes…”

He faded away, the cold of his hands on your cheeks leaving you last before you were met by a blinding light.

“Hi-hitoshi??? HITOSHI???”

You looked around. There was a field of red roses around you, the bloodstains gone from the scene of a few seconds ago. It smelt metallic.

There was a sticky feeling beneath your shoes. Something told you to not look down. Not avert your eyes from the endless field of roses in front of you. But you were stubborn and never learned out of your mistakes.

You were met with a puddle of blood, Shinsou’s dead body at your feet along with your close friends and family. They surrounded you, eyes open and skin drained of any blood. The roses dripped with their blood, dancing in the wind.

You tried screaming but the only thing that left you was silence, a dreadful high pitched beep in the distance. The tears fell like you did to your knees to touch your loved ones for the last time.

A deep breath forced you awake, eyes fluttering open as you checked your surroundings. You gripped your bedsheets, hoping to find Shinsou next to you but the space was empty and cold.

The tears started falling as you got on your feet and tumbled towards the bathroom.

It was only a dream right? Not a flashback or a future forecast, right? Your quirk didn't have anything to do with looking into the future or past, so it couldn't be, it couldn't be…

“Hi-hi-hitoshi??” With a weak voice, you called out as you doused the nape of your neck with cold water, your head in the sink in a position that was more than just uncomfortable.

Your mind was too foggy to remember who it was that advised you to “shock” your system with cold water but whoever it was saved your life more than once. The tears kept falling as you lost feeling in your neck from the overbearing cold water.

“Please just stop, I can't take it anymore…” You sobbed into the sink as you turned off the water.

Heavy footsteps came your way. You sank onto the floor and hugged your knees, feeling the salty tears dripping onto them.

Shinsou lowered down next to you. With more than concern on his face he cupped your face and forced you to look at him. You could only sniffle as he spoke, his words only grazing you. You barely heard him, only saw his mouth move and his head nod.

“I.. can’t... hear… you…” You sniffled between every word, struggling to get air properly. Your body didn't allow you to take a proper breath, only shallow breaths leaving your chest.

It wasn't like your ears suddenly stopped working. You could hear the dripping of the water in the sink and cat pawing at the bathroom window to be let in. But somehow your brain had a hard time processing what Shinsou was saying, somehow translating it to gibberish.

Shinsou watched you, looking at his face and trying your best to stop crying. His thumb caressed your cheek as he tried figuring out what to do. It's been a while since you had a snap out this bad. Last time he used his quirk to make you realise that the dream wasn't real while also calmly easing your body into relaxation. Though he tried keeping his quirk usage on you to a minimum to avoid any type of complications.

Instead he took your hand in his and pressed it as tight as he could without actually hurting you. Sudden pain was one of the easiest ways to snap your body out of panic, physically and mentally. It reminded the body to snap out of it while telling the person that they were indeed real.

“It's over kitty okay?” He kept his tone low and as calm as possible. Even if you couldn't hear him, his tranquility would help you relax as well or at least not stir you up more. “I'm here and you're here. It was only a dream, you're okay now.”

He pressed your hand to his heart. “You feel that? That's my heartbeat, I'm here with you. It was just a dream…”

You focused on your boyfriend and his warm hand around yours. Your breaths got deeper and deeper, Shinsou breathing with you until the tears stopped.

“Hey, see that wasn't so hard was it?” Shinsou smiled, a small sigh of relief leaving him.

Almost immediately, you flung your arms around him and just took him in. He was real. Not dead or a hallucination. He was here and had his arms around you while rubbing your back.

Shinsou had only left the bed for 5 minutes to finish up his emails and put away his laptop. You had been asleep for a while, he was sure that you wouldn't notice his absence so he just got up and finished up his work. Next thing he knew, there was water running in the bathroom and some stuff falling from the shelves.

“You were dying… dead…” You mumbled into his shoulder, eyes still wet. “I couldn't help you and-”

Tears soaked his shirt as you recalled the nightmare. Your tummy turned inside out when you thought back at the grotesque imagery.

“It's okay now. I'm not dead, right?”

“N-no…”

“Can we go back to bed or do you wanna stay awake a little longer?”

It was around 2am now. Even if neither of you had to call in for work in the morning, Hitoshi still wanted to get you to sleep as fast as possible so you could recover from that horrible nightmare.

“Are you gonna be in bed too?”

“I'm all yours…”

You nodded and got on your feet before wiping away the tears. Shinsou followed and patted your back as you washed your face. He liked keeping his hand around you just to put your mind at ease. Around your waist, in your shoulder, in yours… Anywhere just so you knew he was there.

Both of you laid together, you on his chest with his hands on your back. You heard his heartbeat and felt his chest rise and fall. Your arms were wrapped around him and gripped onto him tight.

“Sleep now okay? I'm not going anywhere…”

The drowsiness kicked back in and you closed your eyes, struggling to keep them that way whenever graphic scenes came up again.

“I'm scared…”

“That's okay… Nightmares are scary but they can't do you any harm… And even if they can, I'm here to protect you okay?” Almost like a whisper, he breathed the words into your ear and kissed your forehead. “I'll be here for you all night long until you wake up again…”

You took a quick breath and closed your eyes again. “Can you hum?”

“Of course…”

Maybe it was quirk related, maybe it was just you but Shinsou’s humming always had a relaxing effect on you. He had quite the singing voice actually, though he rarely ever used it outside of home. But any type of music that left him worked like a natural relaxer on you. Combined with his back rubs and temple kisses, your eyes stayed shut and you drifted back into sleep. This time without staircases, roses or blood.

#bnha shinso hitoshi #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #bnha writing #bnha fluff #shinsou x you #mha shinsou #shinsou hitoshi #shinsou x reader #shinsou x y/n #shinsou fluff #nightmare comfort

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omlwhatamidoinghere · 3 years

Text

Mr. Moreno

Chapter 3: Off-Campus Housing

Summary: Marcus decides it's time for some new scenery during your tutoring session

Warnings: SMUT, language, fluff, teacher x f!student, daddy kink/age kink (all parties are above the age of 18)

Word Count: 3,347!

Check out my masterlist!

_________________

Life has been great!

You're getting good grades, your dad just got a promotion he's been waiting 4 years for, your psychology research was accepted to be part of the department's upcoming journal, and- most importantly- you're sleeping with your professor. Well...maybe "sleeping with" isn't the correct terminology.

The multiple rendez-vous with Mr. Moreno have consisted of him going down on you, you going down on him, your hands down each other's pants and pretty much everything except the main event. That's the one thing he won't do. Yes, you two have definitely had some fun times but he won't go past eating you out and you sucking his cock. Ever since his wife passed, he hasn't had the urge to be with another person in that way. The day he met you, things started to change.

=======

Marcus' daughter, Missy, even noticed he was acting weird that day and confronted him about it. Taking him by the hand to the living room, she sat him down on the couch, "Dad, who is she?" Immediately turning red, "W-what? Who- what are you...I don't...I'm...she's not- she's...why are you-"

"Dad" The pose she strikes radiates the sass that she definitely got from him.

A sigh passes through his lips, "She's...she's just someone I met at work-"

"Someone you LIKE!" Missy cuts him off. She has never seen her dad act this way. She's only heard the stories of how he acted around her mom before they started dating, he must really like this girl.

======

It's not that Marcus hasn't thought about having sex with you- he has and does often- the silver ring that remains on his finger, encompassing the relationship he once had, stirs up this feeling of guilt if he were to have sex with another woman. Even though he knows his late wife wants him to move on and be happy, Marcus still doesn't feel right doing so.

Thank the stars it's the end of the week! Between finishing your project for Mr. Moreno's class and conducting more research for the psychology department, you've been stressed out of your mind. Not only was this week busy, but you also have a test in one of your classes next week. At least today the university decided to give everyone a rest day and treat them to a three-day weekend, even though you're spending it by coming to campus to have Mr. Moreno look over your project. A pleased sigh leaves your lips as you enter the classroom, greeted by a grin from the leader of the Heroics, who is currently talking to one of his fellow teammates, Miracle Guy. He notices his loss of Marcus' attention, immediately realizing who you are, "Well hello there! I've heard so much about you!" If you weren't in the classroom right now, Marcus probably would have knocked him right in the chest. Instead, he turns his head slowly back towards Miracle Guy, his face plastered with a look that can only be taken as 'you need to shut up'.

Setting your bag down as your gaze meets the Heroic's, you're taken back by his last statement, "You...you have?"

"Yeah! Mr. Moreno talks about you all the time! He's always saying how his favorite student is extremely smart and well-rounded!"

Your heart pounds in your ears, hoping Miracle Guy sees past the shade of red currently radiating from your face. You glance over at Marcus and feel heat grow between your legs. If he could kill with a look, Miracle Guy would be dead on the floor right now. The intensity of his stare is enough to make you drop to your knees right there. Your gaze lingers a little too long when Marcus looks over to you and notices your lip between your teeth, his glare changes tones at the sight. The look that fills his wonderfully dark eyes, the same lust-filled look from when he peers up at you from between your legs, causes a flutter deep inside.

"Just fuck each other already!"

Both of you snap from your trance over to Miracle Guy, "What? It's so obvious you both want it! I figured with how much you talk about her, Marcus, that you were already fucking her but I-"

Marcus cuts him off, grabbing his arm and dragging him into his office as you follow with your bag. Shutting the door, Marcus pushes him down into a chair, "We HAVE done stuff." The look on Miracle Guy's face slips to a state of confusion, "But...wait....I thought you said....you told me you haven't..." a sigh passes through Marcus' lips, "We haven't had sex. But we've done other things." A blush dusts your cheeks, Miracle Guy slowly picking up on what Marcus means, "Oooohhhhhhhh....nice! See? Still know how to treat a woman even as an old man-"

"I'm not that old."

"And I really don't care about the age difference." You chime in. Both of them turn to you, "Plus, he's the only man I know that doesn't act like a twelve-year-old," you start to mumble, "Not to mention he's really sexy..."

"What was that?" Marcus leans towards you in hopes of you repeating what you just said. Miracle Guy starts to push, "Yeah I heard you say something but I couldn't tell what it was-"

"I said he's really sexy. Just because he's older doesn't mean he isn't sexy."

Marcus' face matches the embarrassed shade of your own, "You...you think I'm sexy?" Your eyes turn to meet his, "Well yeah! Have you seen yourself?" Miracle Guy remains with his jaw on the floor as the two men take in what you said. A few minutes pass before anyone says anything again, "I think I'm gonna head out. It was nice to finally meet you!" Miracle Guy reaches out to shake your hand. Reaching out to shake his, "A pleasure to meet you as well! Hopefully next time we run into each other it won't be as awkward. Thanks for not telling anyone." With a nod, he steps out of the office, leaving you and Marcus. His eyes lock on yours as he closes the distance between your bodies. Warm, strong hands gently caress your arms, his breath is hot against your ear, "So...you think I'm sexy?" His voice, deep and husky as he moves down to your neck. His teeth graze your skin, a gasp leaves your lips, "Marcus..." His name is a soft whisper filled with desperation. You move your hand up to his hair, your fingers running through each strand causing Marcus to release a low growl against your neck as he continues leaving marks. "Marcus, wait...I need you to....I came in to...-" his lips still on your neck, "Tell me baby." "Why is it so difficult to say something as easy as I came in to see if you could look at my paper?" This man has so much power over you and all he's done so far today is kiss your neck and whisper in your ear. Granted, you can't help but think of all the things he's done to you previously. Stars, you can't help but imagine how amazing he must be in bed...so strong...taking control of you...- see this? This is why he has so much power over you; you can't stop thinking of him. "Baby?" His glasses bump into your jaw as he pulls back to look at you, "What is it?"

"I came in to see if you...um...if you could look over my project?"

His look of realization as he fixes his glasses makes you giggle, "I completely forgot about that...I saw your email and everything and I was going to write you back but then Miracle Guy called and said he was coming in to visit and I got distracted but yes I would love to look over your project." Grabbing your paper out of your bag, still flustered from everything that just happened prior to this moment. Handing it to Marcus, you both take a seat at his desk. He reads over it, paying attention to every detail, biting his lip in concentration. "What the hell? Can you think about anything other than him bending you over his desk and- who are you kidding, of course you can't." He notices your gaze drifting off as he peeks up at you from your paper, "Sweetheart..." You don't hear him talking to you as your mind continues to wander, "...his hands on you...his lips on your body...with how he big he feels in your mouth imagine how he feels in your-" he tries to get your attention again, "Hello? Are you alright?" Still not hearing him, "...and his beard against your skin, especially on your neck and between your thighs..." You still don't notice him as he walks around his desk and leans back against it right in front of you, "Sweetheart, are you alright?" Finally, you come back to your senses. Feeling extremely embarrassed, your cheeks flush red, giving away exactly what was going on in your thoughts. A smirk decorates Marcus' face while he rolls up his sleeves, drawing your attention to his now exposed forearms. "What was going on in that pretty little head of yours, sweetheart?" Even though you two have done a lot together, you still avert your gaze from his, still too shy to admit the dirty thoughts you have of him...not to mention how often you think those thoughts. He gently grabs your chin between his thumb and index finger, forcing you to meet his eyes. Pulling you closer, Marcus' lips barely graze against yours, his breath hot on your skin. His voice drops into a low gravely tone, "Tell Daddy what you were thinking about, all those dirty thoughts that I know run through your mind...be a good girl and tell me..." Your breath leaves your body in a soft moan. Trying to collect yourself, "I was...I-I was thinking of....umm...you...your...uh..I..."

"If you tell me, I just may do it..."

A gasp powers you to kind of form a sentence, "I w-was thinking about you...and what you do to me...and the all the things you could do to me...being underneath you...nearly breaking whatever you're pounding me into..." Marcus lets out a low moan as he pulls you in and kisses you, his tongue already finding its way past your lips. The sounds you make in response cause him to press against his pants. His hands find their way into your hair and on your lower back, pulling you closer. He continues to moan as you kiss, "Damn he's so hot when he moans. Oh my STARS I want to really hear him moan" He pulls back, his hands still on you, "Baby, we should go somewhere..." slightly confused on his comment, "What? Where would we..what do you mean?" His eyes grow dark with lust again, "Some place where we won't get caught when I make you scream my name so much you forget your own..." A whimper escapes your lips faster than you can process Marcus' words. "I'll take that as a yes. Where should we go sweetheart?" You pause a moment to consider, "Well, my apartment is two minutes away. I can send you my address and you can meet me over there." Giving you another kiss before pulling back again, "Sounds like a plan. I'll be over in a few." As you fix yourself up and start to walk away, Marcus quickly reaches out, giving you a quick smack, winking at you with a cheeky grin when you turn to look back at him.

You make it to your car and back to your apartment within a few minutes. Racing inside, you see that none of your roommates are home, remembering they left for the weekend. Quickly climbing the stairs up to your room, you change your bra and underwear to the set you just bought a few days ago, put some dirty clothes in the laundry basket and make sure everything is cleaned up, not forgetting to light a nice candle to set the mood a little more. A few minutes pass and you hear a car door as a text pops up on your screen

"Come open the door, baby ;)"

Trying not to fall down the stairs as you eagerly skip steps, you finally reach the door. Doing one last appearance check, you open the door. On the other side, Marcus leans with one arm against the door frame, closing the gap between your bodies as soon as the door closes behind him. His lips almost on yours, "Where's your room?" Grabbing onto his tie, you pull him in for a kiss, "Up the stairs, the door next to the bath-" before you could finish your sentence, Marcus had you up and over his shoulder, walking up the stairs. Reaching behind him, he waves his hand and locks the door. Once he reaches your room, he lays you down on the bed, kicking off his shoes and climbing on top of you, that familiar look floods his deep eyes again. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this, sweetheart." Giving him a smirk, "You have no idea how many times I've gotten myself off to the thought of you." His lips meet yours in a heated clash. Your arms find their way around his neck as his hands find the button to your jeans. Marcus pulls back to slip off your shirt before kissing down your body; on your lips, to your jaw, down your neck, down your chest, past your stomach. Carefully sliding your jeans off, he continues to kiss your body as it becomes exposed. Soft whimpers from you and groans from Marcus fill the room, his lips never leaving your skin. His teeth grab onto your thigh, forcing a loud moan to escape from your throat. Marcus peers up at you with that infamous look of his, "Ooo, baby likes that, doesn't she?" He bites down on you again, getting the same reaction as before, "You sound so pretty. So good for me." His words only turn you on more. "P-please....please....I..I-I need..." He moves back up to your face, "What is it sweetheart?" You moan breathily in his ear, "I need you. Please, Mr. Moreno..." The groan that comes from his lips makes you even hotter for him, your wetness growing rapidly. Even in class, when you call him "Mr. Moreno", your innocent voice masking your filthy intent, his zipper threatens to break from how hard his cock gets. Burying his face in your neck, Marcus' mustache scratching against your delicate skin, "Say it again," his voice dropping to a growl, "say my name again." His hips begin to create friction between your legs while he awaits your response. The things this man does to you, you feel as if you could get off just from him grinding into you as his voice resonates through your soul. Biting the bottom of your ear, he forces sounds to escape your lips but no words can form, "Come on, baby. Be a good girl for me"

"Mr. Moreno, pleeeaaassee"

His lips travel back down your body as he begins to pull you apart, thread by thread. Settling back between your thighs, his hot breath sends a shiver through you. His tongue licks through your folds, already drenched and melting in his touch. "Already so wet for me, baby" he slips two fingers inside you, "How often have you gotten yourself off to the thought of me, baby?" A moan brings an answer to your lips, "All the time...I think about you all the time....think about you touching me...your strong arms around my waist...your hands on me...you-your fingers...doing..."

"Doing this?"

A curve in his fingers guides you closer to the edge. His name escapes your mouth in a chant, the only word your mind can conjure. The sounds you sing only make his aching stronger and stronger until he snaps, "Baby, I need to be inside of you." Your head moves to meet his eyes as he carefully takes his fingers out of you and places them in his mouth. A groan rumbles through his chest as he cleans them off, keeoing eye contact the entire time. Biting your lip, you hold back a moan as you watch Marcus undress before you, taking in the jaw-dropping sight of his naked body. You sit up and crawl to meet him at the foot of the bed, your hands discovering his skin, your lips are soft against his tanned and toned chest. His hands gently push against your shoulders, "As nice as that feels, there's something tighter I wanna feel around me. Be a good girl and lay back for Daddy." The growl sounding like a command, you do as he tells you. Climbing on top of you, his hands land on either side of your head, dragging your focus up his flexed muscles and to his lustful eyes. You can see the hesitation behind his prowling gaze. Arms and legs wrapping around him, "It's alright, Marcus. I want you inside of me." Quickly wrapping himself with you still hanging on him, he lines his cock up with your dripping entrance, carefully pushing into you. Moans rip through your apartment as he takes it slow, easing you onto his size. "I'm gonna start moving, alright baby?" You release a breath you didn't realize you were holding, "Okay. I'm ready."

Easing himself out of you so it's only the tip of his cock left inside, he pushes in slightly harder than before, still adjusting to you, "Ugh....your so tight baby...so tight for Daddy...so wet..." His lips entertain the delicate skin of your neck,your moans and whimpers echoing in his ears, flipping a switch that send his hips into a faster pace. The skin about his cock passes over your clit with every thrust, taking you higher and higher. Your eyes meet as he moves his head back, your lips grazing as you pant against each other. Marcus leans into you depper than before, his mouth meeting yours just in time to swallow the yelp that soars from you. His tongue dancing on your lips, begging for entrance. Parting them slightly, he groans at the feel of you. His kisses travel to your jaw before his lips guide his breath against your ear, "Good girl. Moan for me, baby. Your sound make me want to fuck you until you can only think of me...what I do to you...how much I stretch you..." His husky voice rattles you to the core, clenching tight around his cock. "I'm gonna...please let me come, sir." Marcus pulls back again to look into your eyes, "Come for me, baby. Come for Daddy. You're such a good girl for me." Your climax slams into you at his words just as he chases his release.

Rolling onto his back, he pulls you to his chest, "That...that was...I haven't done that in forever. Was it okay?" You turn your head up to look at him, "Okay? Marcus that was the best sex I've ever had! You really know how to treat a woman." You both chuckle, "Thank you, honey. That means a lot. But..um...what you said earlier about me to Miracle Guy..."

"Y-yes?"

"Is it true?"

"Marcus, I wouldn't lie about that. You're really fucking sexy."

"Honey you're too-"

*buzzzzz*

Marcus' phone begins to ring. Reaching over carefully as not to disturb your comfortable position, he answers it. Still trying to catch his breath, "Hello?"

"Hey pal, it's Miracle Guy. Make sure you turn off your talk to text next time you and hot stuff get together"

Taglist: @no-droids @autumnleaves1991-blog @absurdthirst @velvetmel0n @wyn-n-tonic @leaderoftheheroics @finerthisboutique

#marcus moreno #marcus moreno x f!reader #pedro pascal simp #pedro pascal #we can be heroes #marcus moreno fic #professor x student #mr. moreno series #marcus moreno smut

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tomtenadia · 3 years

Text

A Little Braver - Chapter 15

It’s Monday and as promised the new chapter of the adventures of east station is here. This one is angsty. Our Aelin is dealing with the aftermath of her nearly death at the airport fire. She tries to be brave but fails.

Oh, yeah, Dorian is a cinnamon roll.

CW: PTSD, panic attacks and language.

The gif as a header is silly. it was just to lighten the mood before the chapter. it was desk job and fire and the scene in the IT CROWD where Moss deals with a fire on his desk is hilarious.

Hope you will enjoy.

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

The following morning Aelin was, for once, the first one to wake up and she felt giddy. The doctors had given her the all clear to go back to work. It was desk for duty only and had recommended to take it easy for the first week back. She was excited at the idea of wearing her uniform once more and be back with the rest of her squad. She had missed them all. Their banter, their company.

She looked at Rowan still asleep and giggled. It was so unusual for her to wake up before him. Had it been his day off, she would have let him sleep but he had to go to work as well so she had decided to wake him up in a special way. She got off the bed, walked to his side, then took a step backward and finally jumped and landed on him.

“What the heck?” he roared, grabbed her and turned in a very swift motion caging her in between his arms with his body towering on her.

“I am your new alarm clock,” she smiled looking up at him.

“Worst alarm ever.” His legs trapped hers as well so that Aelin was fully blocked under him.

“What if I was am naked? Still a bad alarm?”

His hands sneaked down her body and Aelin was getting ready for them to make her a happy and satisfied woman, but they stilled and a moment later he started tickling her.

She whimpered and tried to wiggle free from his grasp but Rowan was relentless and she was now screaming for him to stop and shaking her head wildly, blond hair flowing everywhere.

“Rowan, please.” She shouted when she reached a point in which she could not take it anymore.

He finally stopped, realising he had punished her enough but never moved away from her.

“Enjoying the view, captain?” She mused at his strange expression.

“You are stunning,” he whispered dropping a kiss on her lips “you have no idea, but when you smile you can seriously give a man a heart attack.” His voice now gruff with lust.

She looked down at his strained briefs and grinned “not just that apparently.”

Aelin pulled up on her elbows and begged for a kiss “we can have some morning fun in bed, or we can use the shower and save some time.”

A second later she was airborne and Rowan was carrying her to the bathroom “I love the way you think, captain.”

The shower took much, much longer than they had planned. Both of them were now running around the bedroom grabbing pieces of clothing to get ready to go to work.

“Totally worth it.” She told him while pulling up her jeans.

He leaned over while tying his tie and kissed her “so, so worth it.”

“How do you feel?”

“Giddy, to be honest.” She confessed ignoring the pang of nervousness that she had been feeling since the day before. She wanted to go back, but deep down a part of her was panicking at the idea, but she had not mentioned that to Rowan. He would fuss unnecessarily and she was done staying at home and be a patient.

She took a deep breath and wore her hoodie.

“Are you going to finish as normal tonight?” Rowan turned to her, while wearing his jacket.

“Yes, I will be doing a normal nine till five for now. Aedion knows. A part from paperwork I am useless.”

He heard the pang of sadness in her voice and walked to her to hug her “you will go back. You just need to be patient, Fireheart.”

She sighed and her arms went around his waist to steady her “Yeah.”

“Do you want me to drive you?”

“No,” replied Aelin shaking her head “no, I will be fine,” but from the tone Rowan knew she was not. Something was nagging at her and he feared she was putting a mask on. He sighed and blamed it on his crazy need to fuss about her.

Together they left the house and he accompanied to her car. And that alarm bell rang again in his head when he noticed the smallest hesitation in her.

“Text me, call me if you need anything.” He kissed her, cupping her face in his hands “I love you, captain.”

“Of course, who wouldn’t?” She gave him a tight smile and kissed him back “I will see you tonight.”

Aelin had been driving for a good ten minutes when she pulled over and got out of the car and on the pavement very quickly, feeling sick. Leaning against the car door, she felt her heart racing madly in her chest and she felt like she could not breathe.

“Are you okay, miss?” Asked a passerby noting her distress.

“I am okay.” She managed breathlessly “thank you.”

Slowly she moved back in the car and sat back at the wheel but did not move. Just closed her eyes and waited for the queasiness to pass. One long deep breath after the other and she started regaining a bit of sanity and eventually started the car and drove to work.

She left her car along the pavement as usual then got out and took a step onto the apparatus floor. Both engine and truck and the ambulance were still there. She took another step then froze and noticed her hands shaking. What was wrong with her?

The yard was empty but she knew the crew was going to be on shift, they were probably all having breakfast together as they were used to do when they started a shift in the morning.

She looked at the trucks and almost fell sick again. A part of her wanted to turn around and run and she almost did it if it hadn’t been for Brullo’s cheery voice “cap,” he shouted, walked to her and crushed her in a bear hug.”You are back, we missed you so much.” He let her go and grabbed her hand “come on, we are all in the kitchen having breakfast. This is going to be an amazing surprise.” Aelin nodded and followed him. Her heart racing in her chest so much it hurt.

Once in the kitchen the noise that erupted as soon as she stepped in was deafening,

Everyone ran to her for a hug or to ask her questions, Ress gave her back her captain hard hat and she tried very hard to smile, to look happy while instead the emotions were too much for her to bear. She pulled away joking that she needed to breath and for some reason she had to fight tears from falling.

“Hi guys.” She did her best to sound as steady as possible.

Aedion got to her side and ruffled her hair and her mind remembered that he was the one who found her almost dead in the inferno that had been the airport crash.

She felt sick again. This was all too much.

“I am back,” she said, giving them a tight smile her.

Aedion seemed to notice her distress and pulled her closer in a hug “finish your breakfast everyone, then you know your duties for the morning. It’s Aelin’s first day back. Let the woman breathe.”

Aelin kissed Aedion on the cheek “thank you, I missed you all, but that was a lot.”

“We have plenty of breakfast, would you like some?”

She nodded. She and Rowan had been too busy having fun that it had been too late for him to make breakfast, something he had complained about quite loudly. He was very strict with her meals and always made sure she ate. He had been incredible and since he had started living with her she had fallen for him even more. They had even stopped fighting. They bickered, but that was fun. She thought about him and in that instant she realised that his arms around her would be the only way to calm the panic rising in her. He grounded her.

Aedion passed her a plate with some breakfast and she took a bite, ignoring the protests of her stomach.

Once it was just the two of them Aedion finally took the courage to speak to her “are you okay?”

She knew she would struggle to lie to him “you know you can talk to me, right?”

Aelin stood “I have a lot to catch up to,” and walked away, ignoring Aedion completely.

Once in her office she slammed the door shut and walked to her desk. It was covered in mail and few notes from Aedion. He had been acting captain while she had been off. She turned on the pc and spent a good hour going through all her emails.

Marcus had sent her a few articles about the incident at the airport and had highlighted the parts about her. One of the articles had an aerial picture of the disaster and as she saw it, she stood and moved away from her desk. Her breath became laboured and dizziness and nausea came back. She went to the sofa and sat down, taking her head in her hands. In that instant she heard someone knocking at the door and stood quickly “come in,” she said trying to sound herself.

Lysandra’s head popped in “hi, you. Can I come in? Are you busy?”

Aelin motioned to join her on the sofa.

“How does it feel to be back?”

Terrifying. Aelin wanted to say “a bit overwhelmed, there is so much I have to catch up that I don’t know where to start so I am just sitting on the sofa and hope work will complete itself.” Good, let’s put her usual swagger on.

“Aedion tried to keep everything as you left it and did as much as he could. He hated it. He kept saying that the place behind that desk was not his. We all missed you so much, but he is the one who missed you the most and not just because of the acting captain thing.”

“I missed you all as well.” At least she didn’t have to lie about that.

“How is it going with the captain? Is he still living at your place?”

Aelin nodded “yes, we are fine. We even stopped fighting. He is wonderful and he helped me a lot.”

Lysandra smiled “so you two are shacking up officially?”

“We haven’t discussed the matter, to be honest.”

“But you are happy with him.” Asked Lys tenderly, who was very happy to see her friend letting her fears aside.

“Yes.”

“Good.” Lysandra clapped her hands “don’t forget to invite me to the wedding.”

Aelin rolled her eyes “too early for that, don’t you think?”

Lys was about to reply but dispatch alarm went off calling for the ambulance “that’s my clue to go.”

The woman stood and disappeared through the door and Aelin sighed heavily then ran to the bathroom and was sick. She sat on the cold floor for a good ten minutes, her head against the stall’s wall. Then she heard voices, left the stall, washed her face and tried to act normal to avoid suspicion.

“Hello, captain” Ansel’s cheery voice reached her.

“How are you doing?”

“Amazing. I am due to go and help Luca with training in a moment. The kiddo has his exam in two weeks.”

She felt a smile reach her lips “that is wonderful news.”

“The whole squad has been taking turns helping him with training. We are positive he will crush it. He got really good.”

“Good, just… look after him once out there.”

Ansel patted her shoulder “always. We always look after each other.” And the woman winked at her and walked away leaving Aelin alone once again.

Aelin splashed her face with cold water and walked back to her office determined to get some work done.

She was in the middle of finishing some report when someone else knocked at the door and Dorian appeared “hi, you.”

Aedion had told her how broken he had been when they thought she was a goner.

Her hands started trembling again but she hid them under the desk.

“Good morning, chief. I was not expecting you.”

“I just wanted to pop in and see how you were.”

“Your emails and reports are what’s gonna kill me.”

For a moment she noticed a flicker of pain flash in his eyes “just ignore them.”

Aelin shook her head “emails and reports are the reason I am at work today. That’s all I can do for the foreseeable future.”

“You know why.” He said softly.

“I know chief,” she said in a harsher tone than what she wanted “it doesn’t cancel the fact that at the moment I am useless as a firefighter and replying to emails and finalise million of reports is all I can do. Guess they don’t teach you that at the academy.”

He moved a step to her “Aelin, I know how you feel just now. I have been there myself and I hated every minute of it.”

Aelin sighed and calmed down. During his time as captain at west he got badly injured and after he got back to work he had been assigned on desk duty for three months. She was still a candidate at his station but remembered how miserable the man had been.

“How are you? Mentally. We do have support if you are struggling.”

Aelin run a hand through her hair. She knew. The counsellor had already been in touch with her. It was protocol for them to go through counselling and help in case of a traumatic incident.

“I am fine.”

“Aelin, you almost died.” He said through gritted teeth.

She stood “I know. I was there. The roof collapsed on me. I was the one who almost asphyxiated in that bloody inferno. I know.” She snarled at him.

“Have you spoken to the counsellor?”

“Not yet.”

Dorian sat down in front of her and Aelin was annoyed at the fact that he was going stay longer than she hoped.

“Aelin— ”

“Don’t” she stopped him “don’t use that patronising tone with me, chief. I know the rules. I will make an appointment with him.”

“So,” he continued, enjoying himself “how is it going with your captain?”

“Fine.” She replied, leaning back in her chair and twinning her hands under her chin.

He smirked “are you friends already?”

Aelin rolled her eyes “as if you don’t know that we are more than that.”

He raised his hands in a yielding gesture “just checking. You and Aedion did a good job with the airforce. I had Commodore Salvaterre singing the praises of the two of you.”

Aelin’s mouth fell open “Lorcan. That Lorcan actually praised us.”

Dorian nodded.

Aelin texted Rowan very quickly. His reply came back within seconds: are we talking about the same man?

She showed Dorian Rowan’s reply “see? Rowan can’t believe it either.”

“Well, he did.”

Aelin shrugged “fine, I’ll believe you.”

“Good,” he finally stood “I’ll leave you to your emails. Just please talk to the counsellor, okay?”

“Yes, chief.”

Dorian smiled at her and left and Aelin let out a very long breath. She was finally alone again and hoped no one would go in her office again. She loved them all, deeply and she missed them but she felt so out of sorts that even interacting with them was getting difficult.

The dispatch alarm went off again and this time it was for engine and truck. She stood and quickly went to where they were parked and from a corner looked at her team go away without her. Once they were gone she leaned against the wall and sobbed so hard that she ended up sitting on the floor for a moment. Then she stood and slowly walked away. She reached the room where they kept all their gear and walked in, finding it empty as the guys were on a call and her gear was the only one present.

With one hand she touched her new jacket. Her old one had been damaged in the fire. It smelled wrong. That was the first thing she noticed and it was pristine, with no marks, and she hated it. With her fingers she brushed the letters at the bottom saying captain Galathynius. She sat in a corner and hugged her legs to her chest and hid in the empty room for a while. Then all of a sudden she stood and ran back to her office, grabbed all of her belongings, switched off the computer and all the lights and ran back to her car.

Fifteen minutes later she was back home, very quickly she got to the closet she shared with Rowan, grabbed her blue duffel bag and started shoving clothes in it. Then grabbed a few other items from the room and ran outside back to her car.

A moment later she started driving north, not having an idea where she was going. She just aimed for the mountains. She needed to be away from everything. She had tried to be brave and go back to work, and ignored the truth in front of her. She was not ready. She had been stubborn and convinced herself and probably the doctors as well that she was, but the whole morning had been the proof that she had gone back too early. In reality she had been terrified since the moment she had left the house. The station had reminded her of what happened at the airport. Reminded that hers had almost been the next funeral. That the bell had almost rang for her.

Tears began flowing and eventually she had to pull over, the tears not allowing her to see the road properly. She was not okay and she felt lost. Her heart pounded in her chest and she felt like she was going insane.

Eventually, Aelin went back to driving and remembered that Lys had once mentioned holiday cottages in the mountains. She pulled over again and took out her phone to search for the place. Once she got it she set her sat nav and went back to driving. She arrived half an hour later and was impressed by the location of the place. It was in the heart of the Staghorns mountains and it felt like the most peaceful place on Earth. Once she was better she definitely had to take Rowan there.

She parked the car at the guest car park and got inside the reception, got herself a cottage for a week and drove to her allocated house. It was perfect.

She parked the car, grabbed her bag from the trunk and walked in.

The cottage was all in wood and was gorgeous. She noticed the fireplace and flinched at the massive fire hazard. Her bag landed on the floor and she then curled on the bed. The next thing she did was to switch off her phone.

Aedion and the squad got back to the station over an hour later and the first sign he had that something was wrong was that all the lights were off. Aelin was supposed to be there. He jumped off the truck, gave some orders to the two teams and walked to Aelin’s office. Once in he noticed it was empty “Aelin?” He called.

“Why all the light were off?” Asked Lysandra joining him.

“Aelin is not here.” He replied quietly.

“I thought she was staying until five.” Added the woman.

Aedion kept walking around the station as if in search of a clue of her whereabouts. He went to check the captain’s private quarters but they were empty.

“No sign of her anywhere,” said Lysandra joining him again.

Aedion took out his phone and tried to call her. He looked at Lysandra and shook his head.

“What if something happened?” Lys whispered. They were keeping the news to themselves for now. Let the other think she had gone home early.

“Ae, she was not okay. I spoke to her and she pretended to be fine but I saw the mask. She was just putting her usual bravado for us.”

Aedion sighed heavily “I know. She avoided talking to me and Dorian told me the same thing. She is not well and the fact that she is gone worries me immensely.”

“You are her cousin, dammit, you should have pushed her.” Lysandra said through gritted teeth.

“You know better than me that it doesn’t work with her.”

Lysandra groaned in frustration “call the captain. Call him and see if she is there.”

Aedion pulled his phone out of his pocket once again and called Rowan.

“Hello Lieutenant.”

“Captain…” he took a deep breath “I was wondering if Aelin is there at the base with you.”

“No, why would she? She told me she was going to work.” Rowan’s panic rose a notch.

“She was here this morning, but when we came back from a call, she was gone. I thought she came to see you.”

“Are you telling me that you have no idea of where she is?”

“Yes, captain.”

Rowan swore “I will be there in fifteen.” And he hang up.

Aedion looked at Lysandra “he was not happy.”

“Fuck.”

Rowan marched into the fire station not long after. Aedion directed him to a quiet area of the station and Lysandra followed.

“Where is she?” Asked Rowan as soon as they were away from everyone.

“We don’t know. She is not here, but she was when we left.”

Rowan started pacing back and forth nervously “was she okay while she was here?”

Aedion shook his head “She didn’t tell me but I know she was not well. I tried to talk but I had no luck.”

Rowan leaned against the table, hands on the wooden surface “She is not. She has been suffering from nightmares and panic attacks. She is not sleeping well either.” He explained “I suggested plenty of times to talk to someone, you guys have counsellors, right?”

Aedion nodded.

“I told her to delay her return to work by a week. She was giddy this morning, but I could feel there was something wrong, it bugged me the whole morning.” He ran a hand through his hair “I should have told her to stay at home. I just believed her.”

Aedion placed a hand on his shoulder “She does that. She did the same after Sam died. She put up a wall and pretended she was fine. Fooled us all until she just broke down completely.”

“Well, I would like to avoid for her to break down this time if possible.” Rowan growled back. All the signs were there and like an idiot he had believed her. He felt like the worst boyfriend in the universe.

“Any idea of where she could have gone? Any friends anywhere else?”

Aedion shook his head.

Rowan grabbed his phone and tried to call her and desperation hit him when it did not connect “Aelin it’s me. Pleas call me when you hear this. I beg you. Where are you? Everyone is worried. I love you.”

“I’ll go home and see if she is there or if there are any clues of where she could have gone.”

“We are still on shift until tomorrow morning, keep me updated, please.” Said Aedion with a broken voice.

“I will. And you will let me know if you have any luck or think of any places she might be?”

“We will,” said Lysandra, grabbing Aedion’s arm.

Rowan nodded and disappeared.

Twenty minutes later he was at their place, but the house was empty. He walked around the house but it looked exactly like they had left it in the morning.

“Where are you?” He whispered.

He opened their closet and in an instant he noticed something missing: her blue duffel bag.

“Shit.” Some of her clothes had gone as well.

He grabbed his phone.

“Captain?”

“I think she is gone.” Rowan’s voice was filled with deep panic.

“I thought we established that.”

“No, Aedion. She left. Her duffel bag is missing and some of her clothes are gone too. She must have come home and packed because they were here this morning.”

“What do we do?”

Rowan sat on the bed, his head in his hand, while with the other he held the phone “I have no idea.” He felt useless and in utter fear.

“I think it’s bad. She did not flee after she lost Sam. She was broken but never left. Whatever it is, we need to find her soon.”

“How?” Roared Rowan “How the fuck am I supposed to find her if we don’t have any idea?”

“I don’t think we can until she wants to be found.”

Rowan wanted to scream.

He was going insane.

***

It was four days later and Aelin was sitting on the cold floor of the bathroom sobbing loudly. She just had four days from hell. The nightmares had been relentless and she was now so scared of falling asleep that she had stopped sleeping altogether. She had started surviving on coffee but that had the horrible side effect of increasing her panic attacks.

Slowly she tried to stand, she washed her face and made her way back in bed. The last panic attack had left her a wreck and she felt like she was losing her mind.

Her stomach growled but she could not eat. She had bought some meals to heat up in the microwave, but she was struggling to keep food down.

She ignored the pangs of hunger and curled under the blankets, shaking like a leaf.

She woke up an hour later with a terrible scream leaving her lungs. She sat in bed and patted her body, realising she was not on fire. That was the recurring nightmare. Her body on fire, the flames engulfing her as the ceiling collapsed on her over and over again and the horrifying smell of her skin burning. And then the feeling of suffocation. She would always wake up gasping for air.

Slowly she calmed herself down and her breathing went back to normal. She was drenched in sweat so she stood and went to the bathroom to take a shower.

Once under the jets she let herself relax and think of happy memories. Of happier showers she had shared with Rowan. And then guilt hit her. She had left. She had just disappeared. No notes, nothing.

He must be going insane. It had been four days and she could picture him mad with grief.

She should have never left. She should have accepted his help.

Gods, she missed him so much. The tears came back in force and leaned her head against the wall. She felt so, so lost.

Aelin sat down in the shower floor and pulled her legs to her chest and cried until she felt spent and exhausted and had no tears left to shed. Eventually she found the strength to leave the shower wear clean clothes and sit back in bed.

With trembling hands she grabbed her phone and switched it on. A barrage of notifications hit the device. She read all the texts from Rowan. There was no fury from him, just love and support and a plea to come back to him. Her chest felt tight in pain. She had let him down so much. How could she face him again? After all his support since she woke up in a hospital bed how could she flee from him instead of begging for his help? A help she clearly needed. She had lied to herself. She was fine, she had told herself over and over again. But she was not. Not even remotely close to it.

She listened to her voicemails from Rowan and Aedion and her cousin sounded far more furious than Rowan.

She started typing a message to Rowan but stopped and started a few times. What could she tell him? I am a mess, why bother with me? She shook her head and deleted the message again.

Then she had her answer.

I am sorry.

-----------

TAGS:

@rowaelinismyotp

@jlinez

@swankii-art-teacher

@courtofjurdan

@whimsicallyreading

@tillyrubes10

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #aelin galythinius #aedion #Throne of Glass series #Lysandra #dorian havilliard

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hermannsthumb · 3 years

Note

"different young (rebound) hunk on his arm every week…newton geiszler who?" CAN YOU WRITE THIS FIC PLEASE? Hermann as the new heartthrob of the science world, cheekbones that can cut glass, baby gay scientists everywhere using appalling math-related pick-up lines in an attempt to be the booty call of the week. Newton catches a glimpse of him at a fundraiser and the Precursors have to stop him from crying with lust.

so tragically I plotted a whole fic for this and then came back and realized this prompt involves PRU but I liked my idea too much so unfortunately I won’t be filling the PRU part 😔 but I DO love heartthrob hermann sooooooooo. this can be pre-PRU if you want to make it sad actually CW for drinking and mild allusion to not sfw stuff. when will these boys talk about their feelings?

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

Hermann doesn’t like going out to bars at the best of times, least of all after he’s had the sort of exceptionally long day he’s had today (fighting his way through airports and hotel lobbies, fielding interview questions, having not even a minute’s break from Newton), but even he will admit that the one Newton has dragged him along to tonight could be far worse. The sorts of bars Newton fancied throughout their stint at the Hong Kong Shatterdome tended to be far hipper, far more becoming for a man of his (and, admittedly, Hermann’s) age, and likely aimed at tourists: pounding music, dark rooms, neon lighting, overpriced drinks, an inability to navigate through throngs of dancing bodies without bumping into at least half a dozen people. For that reason Hermann’s blood practically ran cold earlier that evening when, fresh out of their latest television interview, Newton insisted that Hermann needed to unwind a little. That Newton would help him unwind a little.

Hermann was pleasantly surprised to find that though the music (a live band) is still loud, and drink prices are still inflated, at least he can see Newton, and at least the few people dancing are dancing far away from them. And, well, perhaps it’s made him more amenable to (mostly) matching Newton drink-for-drink, and to indulging him in knocking back not one, but two rounds of the most disgusting-looking pink shots of all time, and— “Look, dude,” Newton declares, tossing an arm around Hermann’s shoulder. He’s shouting and leaning in too-close to Hermann, not because he’s intoxicated, but rather to be heard over the band, which has launched into a rather enthusiastic cover of some song Hermann’s sure he’s heard blaring from Newton’s iTunes before. His stubble tickles the shell of Hermann’s ear. “Just say it with me. It’s that easy. R-e-t-i-r-e-m—”

“We are thirty-five,” Hermann says. “We can’t just—”

“We absolutely can,” Newton says. He nudges his cocktail glass into Hermann’s chest, sloshing a bit of hot pink Watermelon Crush on his neat button-up. Hermann stifles a sigh; the shirt is brand new, bought just that morning for the interview, and will already be needing a wash. And smelling like liquified hard candy for the rest of the evening. “You and me, lying on a beach somewhere, sleeping in until noon every day, learning how to—to fish, or paint, or whatever the hell we want—”

“Not a beach,” Hermann says immediately. “I’m bloody well sick of beaches. Oceans, lakes, bays—no more."

Indulging Newton’s ridiculous little fantasy, even for a moment, is a mistake: Newton’s face lights up in a grin, and he tucks his arm around Hermann’s shoulder to pull Hermann flush against him. Hermann’s barstool wobbles dangerously. “Okay, no beaches. Far away from any coastline. The mountains, then.” It’d be just their luck, Hermann thinks, if the next Breach reopened far away from the ocean, too. Like it followed them somehow. “Let’s move to Switzerland or something and buy a log cabin or a cave and become weird recluses. I’ll learn how to ski, and you can grow a beard, and we can buy all our furniture at Ikea—” He frowns. “Is Ikea from Switzerland? Sweden? I haven’t been since college.”

“I don’t recall ever agreeing to move anywhere with you in the first place,” Hermann says, “let alone retire to do so. What on earth makes you think I’d follow you to Switzerland? I’ve no interest whatsoever in Switzerland.”

“Uh, because we’re best friends?” Newton says. “Anyway, what else would you do?”

“Anything,” Hermann says. He begins to tick off all the possibilities on his fingers while Newton watches him, unimpressed. “I could stay in Hong Kong—I’m sure they’d appreciate help monitoring what remains of the Breach. Or I could move back to England and resume my old teaching post, if they’d have me.” Hermann knows they’d have him; they’ve already sent him at least a dozen emails practically begging him to accept tenure. “Or back to Germany, with my parents.”

“I could totally do all that, too,” Newton says. “Well—not the Germany thing. No offense, dude, but your parents kinda suck. I don’t think I want them as my roommates.”

Hermann decides not to mention that the odds are very high they would not want Newton as a roommate, either. He’s tempted to ask Newton if he meant what he said about them being best friends—for Hermann can’t recall the last time someone called him their best friend, if ever—but Newton’s arm is slipping from his shoulders, and Newton is pulling out his mobile phone and tapping away frantically at it. Hermann feels strangely bereft without his touch. “Okay,” Newton says, his eyes scanning the screen, “Ikea was founded in Sweden, but they moved headquarters in—”

“Excuse me?”

Hermann and Newton both startle, Newton nearly dropping his phone, and the bartender who’d interrupted them smiles apologetically. He’s holding a pint of what appears to be beer. “Sorry to bother you guys,” he says to them, “but this is from the young man over there in the pink shirt.”

At the sight of the drink Newton brightens and puffs out his chest visibly. Bloody perfect, Hermann thinks. Just want Newton needs—another boost to his ego. “No sweat,” Newton says. He tosses his mobile to the bar counter casually and reaches to accept the glass. “Please tell him I’m super flattered, but—”

“Actually, sir,” the bartender interrupts, and—to Hermann’s surprise—slides the glass away from Newton’s grasp and over to Hermann. Hermann takes it without a word, not quite daring to believe it. Down the bar, out of the corner of his eye, he can see the flash of a bright pink shirt, but he can’t quite make himself turn to acknowledge the mystery admirer. Is that rude of him? No one has ever sent him a drink before. He’s not quite sure of the etiquette. “It’s, um, not for you.”

Newton deflates like a popped balloon. A blush spreads across his cheeks, barely visible beneath his freckles, which have come out again in the spring sunlight now that they’re not spending all their time in the Shatterdome basement. Hermann likes the look of them; he thinks they’re sweet, and that if he traced his fingertip across them they’d make a pattern of some sort, like a constellation. Not that he ever would, of course. Newton would surely ridicule him. "Right, duh,” Newton says.

He waits until the bartender is gone to round on Hermann. “Dude!” he says, almost accusatory, “Fourth time this week!”

“It is not,” Hermann protests. It’s weak to his own ears: even he isn’t thick enough to miss the sudden influx of attention he’s gotten since their first television interview last month. Hermann was never exactly popular, never exactly the sort the drive people wild with lust or romantic longing, yet it seems as if he can’t go anywhere these days without turning a few heads (including mid-twentysomething heads, mortifyingly enough) and getting a few cellular numbers slipped into his hand. Yesterday, a young man on the metro asked Hermann if he might like to see a movie some time. The day before that, another man wearing a jean jacket full of enamel pins stepped up to Hermann in a Starbucks and asked him if he could call-cu-later. Last week, a starry-eyed college student stopped Hermann outside a hotel to ask him to sign his Calculus 3 textbook, excitedly telling Hermann he switched degrees to astrophysics not a few days prior after reading an interview with Hermann in a rather obscure pop science magazine, and had blushed when Hermann thanked him. Newton had laughed at that one, and advised the young man to give biology a shot instead. (Newton had gotten very cross when he was promptly ignored, and in referencing the incident later, rather bitterly called the student an annoying little punk.)

This is to say nothing, of course, of the multiple news articles (listicles, as Newton calls them) Newton has forced him to read about himself on something called Buzzfeed, which have apparently helped to cement Hermann’s fifteen minutes of fame. One was called Twelve Times Dr. Hermann Gottlieb Was A Fashion Icon and was accompanied with a rather embarrassing array of candid photos of Hermann. Newton has been particularly incensed over that one.

“It is,” Newton says. “At least third. You know, I think the worst part is that you’re not even getting laid. Dudes are throwing themselves at you left and right—”

“Am I meant to go home with any random stranger who shows me the briefest bit of attention?” Hermann snaps. “I like to think I have somewhat higher standards than that.” I’m not like you, he nearly adds, but decides that it might perhaps be too cruel, especially considering that Newton has not gotten a fraction of the attention Hermann has over the past month. He remembers what it used to be like in the Shatterdome, is all; Newton seemed to like anyone who would give him the time of day. Most of his romances didn’t fare well for that reason.

“I’m just saying you could, and you’re not,” Newton says.

Hermann taps his finger against the pint glass, watching bubbles release from the side and rise to the top. When he finally takes a sip, it makes him wrinkle his nose. He’s not usually much for drinking. “I don’t like IPAs,” he says.

“I’ll take it,” Newton says, and the corner of his mouth hitches up in a grin, “as long as your boyfriend won’t get offended.”

Considering that Newton has only just finished following up his two shots with a cocktail, Hermann questions the decision, but slides him the glass anyway. Newton starts on it at once. Hermann wonders if he’ll need to call them a rideshare back to their hotel tonight; he’s not sure he can manage guiding a intoxicated Newton through the streets of the city on foot, especially not after a day that’s been rather unkind on his hip. “Only I suppose I have trouble believing it,” Hermann admits.

“Believing what?” Newton says.

“That they’re genuinely interested,” Hermann says.

To Hermann’s surprise, Newton snorts. “Nah, dude. You’ve got—” He taps Hermann’s chest, and leaves his hand there. “—sex appeal. You’ve got the, like, soulful eyes, and the movie star eyelashes, and the cheekbones and—” He drags his fingertip along Hermann’s jaw, and Hermann masks his sharp flinch in a cough, hoping Newton can’t feel his face heating up. He doesn’t remember if Newton has ever touched his face before. It feels shockingly intimate. “People think it’s super hot.” He takes another sip of Hermann’s drink. "Plus, you’re so—like—uptight. It makes people wonder what you’re bottling up.”

Hermann arches an eyebrow. “Bottling up?”

“In a sexy way,” Newton clarifies.

He settles his hand back on Hermann’s chest. Hermann licks his lips. Has Newton wondered those sorts of things about him, too? “You’ve had—too much to drink,” he says.

“A little bit,” Newton agrees. “I’m right, though. I like this shirt, by the way, it’s a nice cut on you.” He toys with one of the shirt’s buttons, and when he speaks again it’s in a low voice that makes Hermann’s mouth feel strangely dry. Hermann has never heard it from him before. “Wanna go back to the hotel and rent a movie or something?”

He’s peering at Hermann through his eyelashes, smiling in an odd little way. How terribly close they are to each other, Hermann realizes. He can count every tiny scratch in Newton’s eyeglasses, every fleck of gold in his eyes, every freckle on his cheeks. He wonders if Newton really wants to rent a movie; he wonders what Newton would do if Hermann closed the inch between them, and... “I,” Hermann stammers, gaze fixed on Newton’s mouth (stained pinker from his drink), “er, yes, only—only I feel as if I ought to thank the gentleman who sent me—”

At once, Newton drops away from him. His face hardens. His smile hardens, too. “Oh, right. I forgot,” he says. He inclines his head down the bar. “Pink shirt, right?”

Hermann casts his eyes about, searching for the pink-shirted stranger. When he doesn’t immediately spot him, a small bubble of relief swells within him. Perhaps he left, perhaps he decided he’s not interested in Hermann after all, perhaps Hermann is free to go back to the hotel with Newton and watch a film and argue about retirement and… “Oh, there,” Newton says. A man catches Hermann’s eye and waves timidly. He’s wearing a pink button-up.

“Bugger,” Hermann mutters. His admirer is not unattractive—in fact, he’s the opposite, with curly hair and glasses even thicker than Newton’s—which Newton seems to notice, too. He claps Hermann on the shoulder, hard enough that Hermann sways with it.

“He’s totally cute,” Newton says, “and he’s totally into you. You gotta at least get his number.” He takes another large sip of Hermann’s drink. “Better yet, get yourself laid. You could use it.”

Hermann feels the oddest sense of whiplash. Just a minute prior, he was about to kiss Newton (and he was pretty sure Newton was going to kiss him back), and now Newton is practically throwing him at another man. Hermann does not want to get anyone’s phone number—he wants to fall asleep in his stiff hotel bed to some absolutely awful science-fiction movie Newton picks out. “Newton,” he says, “weren’t we going to—?”

“No biggie, we can do movie night tomorrow instead,” Newton says. He nudges Hermann’s calf with the toe of his boot, and holds out his cane to him. Hermann feels his heart begin to sink. “I won’t wait up for you. Just give me a heads up if he wants to go back to our place, and I’ll make sure to stay out longer.”

“I’m sure it’ll only take a moment,” Hermann says. He’ll make sure it only takes a moment.

“No biggie,” Newton repeats. He raises his glass to Hermann in a mock toast. “Good luck!”

When Hermann looks back over his shoulder, halfway to the man in the pink shirt, it’s to see Newton’s stool vacant, and the back of Newton’s leather jacket swishing out the bar doors.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous

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ghost-party · 3 years

Note

congrats on 200! i'd love to see Erwin x reader where they are both professors! looking forward to what you come up with, anything fluffy involving fumbling academics would be fun <3

This request... YES. ❤️ I have a huge weakness for this type of AU. (I used to teach college English classes.) And the idea of Erwin as a professor? Perfection.

Warnings: alcohol A/N: So much awkward, adorable fluff. This ended up being longer than I expected, and I still felt like there was so much more I could write. There’s a very good chance that I’ll end up turning this into an actual fic... 😅

• • •

Erwin + Professors

It’s a few days before the fall semester begins, and you’ve just finished settling into your office. It’s small, but unlike the communal space you shared with the other TA’s back in grad school, it’s all yours. The wall-mounted shelves have been filled with books, your desk is stocked with sticky notes, highlighters, and your favorite pens, and you even managed to bring some small plants from your new apartment.

Feeling satisfied, despite the constant hum of nervous energy you’re sure will stick around until the first week is over, you sit back in your chair and rest your head against the wall. That’s when you hear it.

Sometimes I wonder, how I spend The lonely night dreaming of a song...

It’s music, coming from the office next door — an old song you swear you’ve heard before, but you’re not sure where. When you tilt your head, listening more closely, you hear someone moving around.

When stars are bright, you are in my arms, The nightingale, tells his fairy tale Of paradise, where roses grew...

You’re curious about your mystery colleague. After all, it’s nearly seven o’clock on a Friday evening, and you suspect you’re the only two crazy enough to still be here. While you’ve met the department chair and a few of the other professors, you have yet to meet everyone. And nobody so far has mentioned having the corner office right next to yours.

But then your phone vibrates, reminding you that if you don’t hurry up, you’ll be late to dinner with an old friend who’s passing through town. You grab your bag and keys and quietly shut your office door behind you. The door to your right is closed, but you can see light spilling out from beneath it.

Before you walk away, you take note of the name plate: Erwin Smith, PhD

• • •

The first day of classes is a whirlwind. You barely have time to eat lunch, and you empathize with your students as you, too, struggle to locate your various assigned classrooms on a still-unfamiliar campus.

By the time you return to the English department for office hours, you feel frazzled. Carrying a lukewarm coffee in a to-go cup and an armful of student info sheets in labeled folders, you quickly round the corner — and walk straight into someone.

“Oof.” Your folders tumble to the floor, and coffee splashes onto your shirt. The only reason you don’t lose your balance completely is a large, warm hand at the small of your back, preventing gravity from wreaking even further havoc.

“Are you alright?”

When you look up, you have to remind your brain that words exist and you should use them. Because the man in front of you — who, much to your embarrassment, is holding you rather close — is very, very handsome.

Golden hair, carefully combed back. Bright blue eyes that reflect a concerned warmth. Strong features, sharp cheekbones, a smile that would make anyone melt...

“Y-yes! I’m fine!” Once you’ve found your footing, you glance down at yourself, and then notice you’re not the only one who’s now coffee-stained.

“I’m so sorry,” you say, kneeling down to collect your folders and the many papers that slipped out of them. “I need to be more careful.”

“No, no, it’s my fault,” the man assures you, squatting down to help. “And I keep a spare shirt in my office. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve spilled coffee on myself while grading papers.”

Your fingers brush against his when you both reach for the same folder, and you feel your cheeks grow warm. “Still, though, I’m really sorry.”

You both stand, and he smiles kindly. “Please don’t worry about it. Can I help you carry these? It’s the least I can do.”

You nod and walk down the narrow hallway, with him trailing close behind you. “I’m going to take a guess and say you’re the new hire,” he ventures.

“Is it that obvious?” you ask with a small laugh.

“I’ve been here for a while now, so new faces stand out. Keith said you moved here for the job?”

You’re so flustered, it takes you a moment to connect the name with the stern but friendly department chair. “Yeah. New city, new job, new everything...”

“That’s a lot to be dealing with.”

When you reach your office door and retrieve your keys from your bag, the man behind you chuckles. “So it is you. I wondered, but they haven’t put your name plate up yet.”

“Hmm?” You turn to find him grinning and pointing at the door next to yours — the office of your mystery colleague.

“This is me. Sorry, I should’ve introduced myself — Erwin Smith.” He goes to offer his hand, then realizes your arms are full. You both share an awkward laugh.

You unlock the door and gesture for him to come in. “I’m beginning to think that we both apologize too much,” you tease, dropping the folders onto your desk and tossing the now-empty cup in the trash.

“Only when I’ve thoroughly embarrassed myself and made a questionable first impression.” Erwin hands you the remaining folders and shoves his hands in his pockets.

“No, you’re fine! Really, I appreciate the help.” You offer your hand and return his smile. “Let’s try this again. I’m Y/N.”

You notice that his hand is lightly calloused as it closes around yours. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” And you can tell from the look on his face that he means it.

• • •

Over the next few weeks, you see more and more of Erwin, as you both adjust to your respective schedules and learn when they overlap. He holds office hours at the same time as you, and since it’s still early in the semester, it’s unusual for students to actually show up. More often than not, you end up in his office. It’s larger and more comfortable — “lived in” he joked the first time you saw it, telling you about the evenings he’s inadvertently fallen asleep on the small sofa, reading after a late grad class.

There are twice as many shelves as there are in yours, all of them absolutely crammed with books. You could spend hours perusing them all. Sometimes, after you’ve finished grading papers, you pick one at random and page through it.

“Where are you?” Erwin will ask, in the midst of his own grading, and you’ll read a line from whatever book you’re holding, playing a little guessing game with him. More often than not, he knows the title and author from the smallest of clues. It’s obscenely attractive.

Then again, everything about him is attractive. You often feel guilty for sneaking glances at him while he’s preoccupied, watching how his brow furrows while writing an email, noticing when he rolls up his sleeves, revealing hard, lean muscle, thinking that he has no right to look so good while wearing reading glasses. On the few occasions he’s caught your gaze, always offering a small smile, you mentally berate yourself. He’s a friend — your first real friend here. But he’s also a colleague. Keep it professional, Y/N...

You meet his friends when he invites you to join them for weekly trivia nights at their favorite bar, the Garrison. All of them teach at the university, and they’ve formed their group slowly, over years of faculty get-togethers, awards ceremonies, and one terrible team-building camping trip. Hange, who teaches chemistry, immediately adds you to their group chat, which mostly consists of them spamming everyone with memes and Levi from the history department colorfully (but also endearingly) insulting everyone.

By the time midterms come around, your office hours have become much busier. But you still make time to talk with Erwin, and you’ve even spent time together off campus, when he offered to give you a tour of his favorite museum. When you mentioned it to Hange, they nearly spilled beer all over the table, gasping, “You two finally went on a date?!” Erwin choked, coughing as Levi pounded a fist against his back, and you were positive your face was so hot, it would spontaneously combust. Neither of you mentioned it afterwards.

But that hasn’t changed the fact that you have the biggest crush on him. And you’re not sure what to do about it. His friends — now your friends, too — haven’t exactly been subtle about trying to make something happen between the two of you. But neither you nor Erwin has made a move.

This evening, you’ve both stayed late, in an attempt to catch up on paperwork. You notice him stand and walk to the old turntable in the corner, changing the record. The song that begins to play makes you lift your head from the pile of tests sitting on your crossed legs.

“It’s that song.” When Erwin looks at you, puzzled, you explain, “You were playing it, the first time I was here — before the semester began.” Your face heats up as he continues to stare at you. “Sorry, that’s weird, right? I just... didn’t know anyone else was here, and it was a nice song, and —”

He laughs, raising his hands as he approaches you. “Whoa there. It’s okay, you just surprised me. It’s a favorite of mine — ‘Stardust’ by Hoagy Carmichael. My parents used to dance to it sometimes, when they stayed up late drinking wine, thinking I was asleep.”

“Let me guess,” you say, propping your chin on your hand. “You pretended and then read books beneath the covers.”

Erwin smiles. “Guilty.” He stands there for a moment, seeming thoughtful. And then he asks, softly, “Did you think it was a date?”

You blink up at him, setting your papers aside. “Oh. I... Um... No.” You’ve grown close enough to him that you can now read the subtle shifts in his expressions, and when you see a flash of disappointment, you blurt out, “But I wanted it to be.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. I’m just... not great at things like this. Especially with a coworker. I didn’t want to make things complicated.”

Your gaze is fixed on the floor, so you don’t notice him sit beside you until the sofa cushion dips. When you turn to look at him, he smiles. “I’ve been feeling the same way. And I didn’t want you to think we’re only friends because of that — like I had an ulterior motive or something.”

He reaches for your hand but hesitates, allowing you to meet him halfway and entwine your fingers with his. There’s an almost imperceptible sigh of relief before he murmurs, “I like spending time with you. I’m sorry I’ve wasted some of it trying to figure out the best strategy, when I could’ve just... told you that.”

You squeeze his hand and smile. “That sounds an awful lot like an apology, Dr. Smith.”

Erwin chuckles. “Well, then, instead of ‘sorry,’ I’ll go with, ‘Would you like to have dinner tomorrow night?’ And to be clear, this would definitely be a date.”

“Hmm...” You glance at the clock on the wall. “It’s only eight. Is tonight too soon?” When his eyebrows inch upwards, you remind him, “You said you didn’t want to waste any more time. And if you do any more work tonight, you’ll end up doing that thing where you pinch the bridge of your nose over and over.”

He lets out a loud laugh. “Someone’s been paying attention.”

“You make it hard not to.” You stand, pulling his hand to your lips and brushing a soft kiss across his knuckles. It’s worth it, to see his blush deepen. “So... Where to?”

#200 followers event #attack on titan #aot #erwin smith #erwin x reader #erwin smith x reader

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diaryofabeautyfiend · 3 years

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🚨Warnings: Light p in v smut. Some angst. Lots of fluff. My grandfather’s name really is in the Smithsonian.🚨

Plain Gold Ring V:

Exactly Like You

“I know why I waited

Know why I've been blue

I've been waiting each day

For someone exactly like you” - Nina Simone

——————————————————————

Your last day in D.C. felt like the last day of your life. This life. Every article of clothing was packed. Every knickknack and tchotchke sent with the movers. You were ready for your next life. Did your next life include Andy?

The weather was beautiful. Sunny. Not too hot. You and Andy had planned on spending it outside seeing the sites. He had never toured any of the museums. You invited Jacob along. The second you said it you wished you hadn’t. You felt like a home wrecker even though Andy promised Jacob wouldn’t see you that way.

Andy was bristling with excitement. “He’s going to love you, baby.” You were not great with kids. You actively chose not to have them. You loved your nieces from a distance when they were little. Now that they are teenagers you feel a little more at ease with them. You are their cool rich aunt who spends an absolutely outrageous amount of money on them when you visit. You nearly fainted when Andy asked if you’d like to have children.

“Aren’t I too old for that?”

“You’re only three years younger than me. I know a lot of women who had their career before they had a family.” Your face snapped from terrified to anger real quick, “Not that you can’t have a career and be a mother. People do it everyday. Shut up, Andy.”

“You’re cute when you’re nervous. Have you thought of having children with me?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, “Well, yeah. I’d like to have a couple more.”

“Oh. A couple he says.” You could feel the hives forming. “This seems like a good conversation to have right before I leave.”

He ran his hands up and down your arms. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to pressure you. You haven’t thought about it? Not even a little?” The door buzzed in the nick of time.

“Jacob’s here! Hallelujah!” You wiggled out of his arms to grab your shoes.

He laughed shaking his head. “We’ll finish this conversation later, young lady.” he pressed the intercom button, “Hey come on up, buddy. This is going to be great, honey.” He loved your nervous laugh and the way you fidgeted with your fingers. Just the fact that you were nervous told him you would love his son.

You heard voices coming from the living area. Fucking hell. Was that Lori? You contemplated going out of the window. You went into the bathroom to grab some lip balm. You knew full well that it was in your bag on the kitchen island. You were just staying out of their way. When you heard the front door close you reemerged.

“Ready to go?” Your eyes were wide and you were way too smiley. If Andy didn’t know better he would think you were on drugs.

“Yeah. I think no more coffee for you ok?”

“It’s nice to see you again, Miss Y/N.” Jacob extended his hand.

“Nice to see you too. So! The Smithsonian. What part are you most interested in seeing?”

“Air and space I think.”

“Then that’s where we’ll start. My grandfather’s name is actually on a plaque. I’ll show you. He was in the navy and built planes that were used in Korea I think. And my dad’s picture is there. He works for a division of NASA back in Louisiana where I’m from. He developed this little part of the rocket booster. He’s literally a rocket scientist.”

“That’s really cool. I’d love to meet him sometime…..”

Andy was loving every second of this. You and Jacob really got along. You were making plans to visit your father and stepmother over the summer and maybe hit the beach in Florida. Jacob’s face lit up at the prospect of meeting your family. Both Andy and Lori were only children. Jacob didn’t grow up with cousins or really any kids his own age outside of school. He seemed pretty comfortable with the idea of you and Andy together.

Andy tested the waters a little by holding your hand. Jacob didn’t seem to notice. By the time you got to the next part of the museum he had his arms around your waist. He even kissed you a couple of times. Nothing but a tender peck here and there. Jacob didn’t seem to mind when he showed you affection.

After lunch Andy dropped you off and then ran Jacob back home.

“So, what are you thinking?” Andy asked with nervous trepidation.

“The museum was cool. I really liked the rockets. It’s cool that Y/N’s dad made those.”

“Did you like Y/N?”

“Yeah. Sucks she’s moving. Do you think you’ll move to Chicago too?”

“Kind of depends on you, bud. I know you’re getting older and you don’t need Dad around very much anymore. I don’t want to miss anything. You’re my only baby.”

“I could spend summers with you. You look really happy. I haven’t seen you this happy in a long time. Even before the trial. I’d miss you but you should be happy.”

The whole way inside Jacob talked about you. He clammed up when Lori walked in.

“Hey, guys. Did you have a good time?” She kissed Jacob on the forehead.

“We had a great time. Ok, Jake. You have the number where I’ll be. I’ll be back on Wednesday. If you’re not busy next weekend you can spend the night. I have your room all set up. Love you.”

“Ok. Love you. Have a safe flight. Tell Y/N I said bye.” He escaped to his room before the arguing started.

“If it’s ok I’ll pick him up from school Thursday. Did you sign the papers?”

“She went with you?” Her voice was deadly quiet.

“She did.”

“Didn’t want to tell me that before hand I guess.”

He sighed and wiped his face with his hands, “I’ll have him back Sunday night. See you later.”

“Fuck you, Andy. You can’t even give me the courtesy of telling me my son would be meeting his father’s whore!”

He slammed his fist on the counter, “Did you sign the papers or not?” She threw the manilla envelope at him.

“They’re signed.” He took the papers and walked out slamming the door. He contemplated moving again. He has a month to month lease on his place. It wouldn’t be hard for him to find a job. He knew Jacob would be fine. Chicago was looking better and better. After all the baby talk this morning he wouldn’t burden you with anything else domestic for today.

——————————————————————

You were zipping your last suitcase when you heard Andy come in. You packed all of your sleep clothes so you were wearing Andy’s t-shirt and panties. Dinner was ordered and he had a drink waiting on the counter. He called out for you. When you rounded the corner into the living room he caught you in his arms.

“Hey, handsome.” you cooed in his ear. He nuzzled your neck and stroked your back. “You ok? Was Jacob….he hates me. I knew it.”

He tightened his hold on you, “Honey, he loved you. He talked about you the whole way back.”

“Then why is your face all worried?”

“Because I’m keenly aware that this is our last night together in my place. That when I come home Wednesday you won’t be here. I’ll go to work on Thursday and Jeremy will be in your office. I have really good memories in that office and now they’re ruined. I don’t want to wake up without you.”

His hands traveled up your bare back then back down to cup your ass. “The delivery app says they’re going to be here in twenty minutes. Think you can finish in time?”

He lowered his head between your breasts and nodded yes. Before you knew it your panties were off, his pants were down and he was fucking you against the wall. His pace was relentless. You hooked your ankles at the small of his back and leaned back so you could rub your clit. Your fingertips brushed against his dick every time he pumped in and out of your cunt. You both came in fifteen minutes.

You ate dinner on the veranda loving the cool breeze on your bare skin. As much as he wanted his t-shirt to smell like you, he like naked picnics way more. Admittedly, a big chicken Caesar salad wasn’t the sexiest food in the world. Still didn’t stop him from licking dressing off of your chest when it dropped off your fork. He was determined to fuck you in almost every room in this place.

You slept tangled and sticking together all night. You had finally gotten over your need for bed space. You’d miss it when he wasn’t there. All night the two of you wanted to bring up moving in together. Neither of you had the guts to say it. You didn’t want to beat a dead horse. He didn’t want to freak you out. Good thing you’d be long distance for a while to work on your communication skills.

——————————————————————

Your new place was beautiful. You rented a big new condo close to Millennial Park. Your office was on Michigan Ave so you weren’t far from there thought walking was highly discouraged. It wouldn’t be possible in heels anyway.

You and Andy worked diligently unpacking and cleaning. When the last box was unpacked and broken down you both collapsed on the couch. “I feel disgusting.”

“You have that nice big bathtub. Bet we can both fit.” He raised an eyebrow at you and nudged your side.

“You are insatiable, Mr. Barber. Whatever will I do without you?”

“You’ll bust from horniness. Come on.” He hoisted you up from your comfy spot and pulled you into the bathroom. While he undressed you filled the water with soft musky oils and some bubble bath. You lit candles and eased in to relax. He washed your hair massaging your scalp with his fingertips. He held you in the warmth until your fingers and toes were pruned.

For the rest of the week, if you were sitting it was on Andy’s lap. If you were sleeping it was in his arms. By Tuesday morning, you had both finished up conference calls and responding to emails. You had cleared the rest of your day to spend together.

As the sunlight dwindled it had become harder and harder to part. You couldn’t take it anymore. You had to have the conversation you had been dreading since you stepped off the plane.

“Andy, I don’t want to sound like a nagging girlfriend but, I really want you to move in with me. I know it would be so hard leaving Jacob but I have plenty of room. He can spend every summer here if he wants. I’d love to have him. I feel really strongly that this is leading somewhere. I’ll even talk about babies if you want.”

His heart was bursting. You kept rambling on trying to convince him. Little did you know he was already convinced. “Stan is going to kill you.” He laughed and pulled you onto his lap. “Give me a few weeks to wrap up everything.”

When you dropped him at the airport there were tears but you knew you’d see him soon. “I love you, baby. I’ll call you as soon as I land.” He kissed you like he would never get to do it again.

“I love you too. See you soon.” He smiled through his tears.

“See you soon.”

——————————————————————

That weekend he spent all of his time with Jacob. He planned on spending every moment he could with his son. Jacob even had his first few weeks planned starting with meeting your family in Louisiana.

When he brought Jacob home on Sunday he worked up the courage to tell Lori the news. “Do you have all of your stuff for your English assignment? If not I can bring it by before school tomorrow.”

“I got it, dad. I had fun this weekend.” They hugged. He smelled Jacob’s hair and kissed him.

“Love you. Be good for mom.”

“Love you too!”

Lori stood in the doorway with her arms folded protectively over her chest. “So she’s gone?”

“Yep.”

“So what now? What does this mean for you?”

He pulled out the kitchen chair and rested his head in this hands. “This wasn’t a fling, Lori. I’m moving to Chicago. Jacob is real excited about spending summers with us.”

“Do you love her?” Tears shimmered in her eyes and her voice wavered. It would be cruel to lie to her.

“Very much.” It stung to hear. With nothing left to say Andy stood to leave.

“Andy!” she called after him. When he turned she wrapped him in a hug. The two of them embraced for several minutes.

When he stepped onto the sidewalk outside of the building his phone buzzed in his pocket. He saw your face smiling back at him.

“Hey, baby. How was your day?” He looked up at your old window and thought of how the two of you started, the past he left behind and smiled at the sound of his future on the other end of the line.

#andy barber angst #andy barber smut #andy barber x y/n #andy barber fluff #andy barber #defending jacob

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lilydalexf · 3 years

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Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with MustangSally

MustangSally has 33 stories at Gossamer. Even if you haven’t read it, you’ve probably heard of at least one of them, Iolokus, since it’s an X-Files fanfic classic. All her fics hit big and are well worth your time. I’ve recced some of my favorites here before, including And Dance by the Light of the Moon, All the Children are Insane, and Iolokus. Big thanks to MustangSally for doing this interview.

What's the story behind your pen name?

I could tell you but then I would have to kill you.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

Yes and no. Yes, because life has moved on since the early nineties and the characters and the fans are in vastly different places now. Our current tech would make the premise of the X-Files impossible. No, because of the longevity of some of the Star Trek TOS work (there’s an archive of hard copy fanzines at the University of Iowa). Top-drawer authors started out in TOS fandom.

I’m just greatly saddened that my physical body is showing wear and tear while the fic doesn’t. Fic gets to stay smooth-skinned and muscular, captured at the peak of perfection.

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it?

At the risk of sounding atrociously trite, I think of the friends I made. I met some very remarkable women that I’ve been able to stay friends with online for over twenty-five years. We may have moved to Facebook and post entirely too much about our pets and which of our body parts has sagged this week, but we’re friends. It’s a furiously funny, feminist, and well-educated group of women with jobs in the highest levels of academia, finance, communications, and media. I’m amused by the fact that if I have a question about how a virus replicates, I can ask a PhD I’ve been drunk with in Las Vegas.

Back in the day, I had a job that sent me traveling around major cities in the US and UK. I could post on a message board and within ten minutes there were people I could go out for dinner and drinks with. We already knew we had something we could talk about for at least a couple of hours. Additionally, most of these people were women so there was an added level of security. Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

Well, it was mostly atxc and the Yahoo! groups mailing lists that spiraled out into Geocities sites and, eventually, LiveJournal. The amusing thing is that getting in on the ground floor of social media and the Internet has helped me get jobs! When I look at a new piece of software, I think, ‘this is hella easier than uploading to Geocities.’ We had to walk uphill both ways, in the snow, on dial-up, fighting off dinosaurs with our AOL CDs while writing HTML code. What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

DO NOT FEED THE TROLLS.

The past four years in politics have basically been the ugliest online kerfuffle the world has ever seen. I survived the Shipper Wars of ’96 and I thought those were brutal, but that was NOTHING. The only way to win an argument online is to not have the argument at all. Arguing with a troll is like mudwrestling a pig: You both get filthy and only the pig is happy.

Also, READ THE FUCKING TERMS OF SERVICE.

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

I had the most terrible straight-girl crush on Scully. I wanted to be her best friend, I wanted to BE her. I wanted to order Chinese food and paint each other’s nails and talk about bones. Scully and Princess Leia and I could all just hang out poolside with hot and cold running waiters and poolboys, drink margaritas, and bitch about how unfair it all was – if the stupid men would just get OUT OF THE WAY AND LET US DO OUR JOBS, the world would be so much better. What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

This question is really about Iolokus, isn’t it? You can’t fool me. [Lilydale note: I can neither confirm nor deny the motivation for this question, but I cannot complain about the answer.]

Simply put, I was enraged. The moment it was revealed that Scully’s ova had been used in experimentation, I lost my feminist mind. It was the most obscene defilement imaginable. Scully wasn’t nearly as angry as I was. What I thought needed to happen was for Scully to become a fiery force of vengeance against the MEN who had done this to her. Clearly, I was not going to get that level of satisfaction from the show, as I was imagining Kali-like carnage on a global scale. I emailed RivkaT (whom I did not know well at that point) with a proposition that we work together. Strangely enough, we didn’t meet face to face until we were well into the project, but we did talk on the phone quite a bit. The rules were simple – everyone had to be punished in truly horrific ways, and at some point, we had to see if we could write a car chase (only because that seemed impossible). Then it basically turned into a very twisted game of chicken to see who could be the most outrageous in terms of killing people off or writing really horrific things that fit within the structure of the narrative. I did, in the end, write the car chase, but RivkaT one-upped me by throwing in a helicopter (a FOX News helicopter, at that).

Really, RivkaT? A helicopter? What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom? I am terribly proud of what I wrote, pleased that it brought pain and pleasure in equal amount to people, and, again, thrilled by the people I became friends with. I admit that I stopped watching the show when Scully announced her pregnancy. I could only see a long jump over a shark tank for the rest of the series. I haven’t watched the new episodes, either. It is complete in my mind and doesn’t need to be continued. I wouldn’t say no to having a reunion with some of my fic friends, although we’re still chatting online like everyone does. Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

Rivka and I wrote in the Buffy fandom for a few years, but then we moved on to real adult jobs that left absolutely no time for me to write. I’m in education, and I regularly sweat blood for fear that someone is going to find my old fic. The Buffy people were fun; there was a certain *shininess* to them that I really enjoyed. The X-men authors were just batshit and delightful, and some amazing stuff came out of Marvel fandom, particularly in the Thor/Loki and Steve/Bucky subgenres. I’ve learned to appreciate a good coffee shop AU and one famous Erik/Charles fic where all the main characters are crabs. Seriously, crabs—it’s hysterical. [Lilydale note: Other Crabs Cannot Be Trusted by groovyphilia currently has almost 2,500 kudos at AO3.]

Every few years, I’ll have a student try to explain to me what fandom is and I just smirk. Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully? No. Not really. Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom? I fell into an X-Men hole a few years back and had a great old time wallowing in the Cherik muck, and there was a flirtation with BBC Sherlock as well. Strangely enough, I became interested in A/B/O fics only because of what they were saying about the role of women in our society. The limitations on the male omegas seem absurd and then you realize those are the same limitations put on women all. the. time.

Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now?

RivkaT very nicely formatted everything and put it up on AO3. What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

I will always be stupidly proud of how shocked and horrified people were by Iolokus. The truth of the matter is that Iolokus has Greek drama at its core. Scully is Medea, and the entire story is lousy with “blood on the threshing floor” and Dionysian rites. The everyday is subverted into horror, and wives and daughters will tear men limb from limb like the Maenads. Since I was ultimately disappointed with what Chris Carter did with the entire show, that approach seemed appropriate.

At a certain level, all fic is corrective fic. Like critic Anne Jamison said, “Irritated fans produce fanfic like irritated oysters produce pearls.” And because fic has fallen so much into women’s sphere, a pure form of correction is not just the death of the author but the MURDER, a new creation springing up from the spilled blood like Cadmus sowing dragon’s teeth.

Okay, that’s a bit much. Maybe I should just take myself back to the isle of Goth Amazons or something. Do you still write fic now? Or other creative work?

I had to write a self-evaluation and a reflection on pedagogy today. If that’s not fiction, I don’t know what the fuck is.

All my creativity is caught up in trying to pretend to be a normal middle-aged white woman so no one knows I am really a lizard.

Is there anything else you'd like to share with fans of X-Files fic?

Keep writing, keep reading, keep fighting the commercialization of narratives. As things grow more and more commodified, all our dreams and desires reduced to tchotchkes made in China, it’s a revolutionary act to separate your work from the marketplace. Be bold, take chances, turn the trope on its ear and kick it in the ass. Take everything the creators have done to make a work palatable to the unwashed masses and set it on fire.

Be subversive.

Be mean.

Have a great fucking time.

(Posted by Lilydale on March 2, 2021)

#old school x #xfiles fanfic #xf fanfic #xf fanfic author interviews #mustangsally

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soulwillower · 3 years

Text

taboos and the absurd iii • richie tozier

(professor richie tozier x reader smut)

requested: hi! i just finished reading taboos and the absurd, SUCH A GOOD SERIES. This is just some idea i had and im totally okay if u don’t want to do it, but would you write maybe a final part of the series when the reader finds out richie fucked more students (more than she though) and she gets upset and stops talking to richie (ridiculous jealousy) but he really was falling for her so he talks to her and well things get heated, and KDKDKD ok sorry if im too specific, hope u see this❤️❤️❤️🥰🥰 + hey omg i love the prof. richie series sm 🥵 if you plan on making a pt. 3 might i suggest reader giving richie head while hes giving a lecture and reader gets fucked on the table 😳😳 its hoe hours frfr + so many other requests to continue the series :)

warnings: smut, oral sex (male receiving), bad morals, abuse of power, dont fuck your professor, filthy stuff, professor richie, deepthroating, dirty talk, use of the word slut, cockwarming, unprotected sex, mentions of exhibition, a bit of degradation and a lot of praise, unedited as usual lol

[losers + reader are 20+ in this]

4.4k words

part 3 of taboos and the absurd series. sorry it’s been so long :) i wanted to surprise u a bit with a lil surprise for the holidays. i love u all!! <3

[ i ii ]

♡

you hadn't been to class in almost a week and a half.

it was really bad, you know - and the ditching has started to affect your grade, but you don't even care as much as you really should. because you're.... extremely jealous.

yeah.

you'd first gotten suspicious the lecture after you stayed behind and ended up with professor tozier's dick in your hands. a girl was sitting on his desk after class, when you'd walked in to turn in a late paper, and richie had been twirling her hair. they were laughing together, her bare legs. it made you burn up, and so you tossed the paper down at the drop bin at the back of the classroom loud enough that he noticed you’d come in.

you were so mad you didnt stay to see anymore. and you didnt go to class for more than a week after.

it could have been just an innocent gesture, or maybe just some woman richie was dating - either way, you were beyond jealous. it filled you with rage to imagine richie fucking anyone else, let alone a student. you were hurt, too - because you've really started to like spending time with your professor.

but that backfired of course, because you’re in your apartment staring at an email from him.

i will be at my office on campus after hours this friday, until roughly 9:30. if you're available, i encourage you to stop by.

we have a lot to discuss regarding your grade and future in my class.

thanks,

professor richard tozier

you blink at the screen, your heart racing. your fingers shake slightly as you reach up to rub your temples - oh god, he wants to talk. he's going to turn you down, say it was a mistake, and fail you.

and in the few days until friday, your rage and fear meld together to make a jealous, ugly monster as you stalk up the empty corridors to his office, ready to speak.

it's late, probably around 8 when you knock on his door, but he's still there as promised, answering with a faint come in!

you walk in slowly, heart pounding in anxiety as you meet eyes with him for the first time in almost 14 days. your heart thumps hard still as he nods at you, "you can shut the door and take a seat, ms. y/l/n."

you swallow as you click the door shut and move to the chair, sitting down awkwardly and biting your lip. "hi, professor." you say, afraid your jealousy is going to spill from you if you say anything else.

"you haven't been in class."

you nod, "you noticed."

he sighs through his nose and leans forward on his desk. you clench your thighs - no getting turned on, y/n. not now. "of course i did. i'm your professor, ms. y/l/n."

"right, sir, i almost forgot. you just get so comfortable with all your students now, sometimes it's hard to remember." you bite, and his eyebrows raise. "some more than others." he adds, shooting you a look that you ignore, instead turning your stubborn gaze to the clock behind his curly head. you can nearly smell his cologne from where you sit, and you're almost drooling. you can't let him see it.

"what's going on? your grade is dropping. you’re not coming to classes." he says, sounding like he's concerned. you bite your lip, shaking your head as you look at him. "i'm not going to come to class just to watch you flirt with the girls and let them give you fuck me eyes."

"that's exactly what you do to me constantly, as i seem to recall." he bites back. you feel yourself turn red, but you sit forward more so you lean over his desk just like he is.

"whatever. i don't care, i'd just appreciate it if you'd tell me that you're going to fuck other students so i can leave. and not walk in on you right before you do so.” you say, suddenly so thankful you chose to come later when nobody was on this floor, the only other person in the building being the custodian sleeping at the front desk.

professor tozier tilts his head with a smirk, "oh, you're adorable. my jealous little slut, crying because she can't have me to herself."

your jaw drops, the remaining thin layer of professionalism gone the minute he opened his mouth. "fuck you, professor. i'm leaving."

"i wasn't finished." he says sternly, and something in his voice makes you sit back down. he looks mad and it's confusingly hot, your legs feeling like jelly because of your excitement. "if you weren't such a brat, you would have heard me say that i'm not fucking anyone else. student or not."

you stare at him, confused as your face reddens again. you're embarrassed. "but-"

"the woman you saw last week, when you came back after the lecture. that's professor marsh, she's one of my colleagues and best friends. she's also happily married." he says, sounding pissed off. "i'd appreciate some trust, it's not like i going around fucking every student who wants to open their legs for me - although plenty have tried." he says.

you feel yourself soaking through your panties. god you have problems,don't you? "i'm sorry sir, i-" you start but he shakes his head, standing up from his chair and walking towards you. you watch him with big eyes, as he clenches his jaw. "no, don't apologize. just know. you're the only one." he mutters as he crosses behind you.

you stare at his empty desk, face blushing at his words. the only one. the click of the lock on the door gives you butterflies, and then he's behind you, hand trailing over your shoulder. "if you still want me, that is. your most recent paper was very good, but i know you can do much better. you just have to try for me." he's caressing your neck now, lips ghosting over the skin. you let out a soft moan, goosebumps raising on your soft skin as he feathers it with kisses. your butterflies are alight as you turn your head, kissing him.

he grips your jaw almost immediately, pulling your head upwards towards where he bends over you. you gasp as his hand rests on your thigh, and he smiles against your lips. "you're so sensitive, hmm? when was the last time you touched yourself?"

you gulp, shaking your head, shocked still by his boldness and by your willingness to be honest. "a f-few days ago." you say shakily as he kisses along your jaw, hand sliding up your thigh slowly. he tuts, "baby, you're going to fall apart when i'm through with you." he mutters, almost to himself, and that makes you choke out a moan.

he kisses you again and you push back enthusiastically, hand raising to palm him through his slacks. he's already semi hard, which makes a swell of pride blossom in your chest. but suddenly he breaks off the kiss, hissing in surprise. "fuck." he mutters, backing away from you. you blink, did you go too far? your thighs press together as richie rushes to his desk. "i have to proctor this exam in zoom. in....two minutes."

oh.

you blink and watch as he logs into his laptop and adjusts his hair in its camera. it's endearing, in a way that makes you smile, though extremely riled up and disappointed. you begrudgingly reach for your things, but professor tozier's hand comes up to stop you, "please stay. it's only going to be max forty minutes. i have beer in the bottom drawer if you want some." he rushes out, and you smile. "you sure?" you say shyly.

he looks at you, pausing. "yeah, y/n. of course." he says gently, smiling almost shyly back at you. he looks so young, it makes you stare in awe. his dimple pops and you hear the sound of ringing, the students joining the call to take their exam. only professor tozier would have an exam this late on a friday. asshole, you laugh to yourself.

you open a bottle of beer you find hidden under a stack of manilla folders, but don't even take a sip as your mind wanders. richie's speaking to the class, sounding professional and confident. you wonder if he's still hard.

so you smirk, feeling bold, and you get down onto your hands and knees and crawl under his desk until you're face level with his belt. gently, you spread his legs apart so you can get up and closer to him, and the slight jump he gives confirms that he didn't even notice you go under the desk.

you gently start to palm him and he clears his throat loudly, fist slamming on the desk slightly above you. over the speakers you hear professor, are you alright? and then richie's muttering, "y-yes, just a slight problem i need to fix." he's gritting it though his teeth and you grin to yourself as you unzip his pants and pull out his fully hard cock, running your fingers over it and smearing the precum. he's breathing tensely and he starts to speak to the class, giving tips on a certain question after one student asks him a question.

you pump him a few times gently, then start to kitten lick his tip, wanting to tease him since you've never had the upper hand like this before. you flatten your tongue along the bottom of his cock, teasing him a bit before slowly taking him into your mouth, sliding a bit before bobbing. the quiet groan he lets out as you take him as far as you can is sinful, a student asking richie about formatting as you suck him off. bobbing your head, you hollow your cheeks and relish in the feeling of richie’s cock in your throat, stretching you out and making you moan around him.

"y-yeah, so for this i'm really just looking for MLA-" he almost hiccups to cover up a groan as you try to hold yourself still with him all the way down your throat, as far as you can take him. "MLA formatting, nothing out of the ordinary. thank you for asking that."

and then you hear him slam a button and he groans out, “you feel so good baby.” he hisses, his hand moving from above the desk down to grip the back of your head, carding through your hair. "don't fucking stop." he says, his hand guiding your head as you work hard.

after a few minutes you pull off of him to take a few breaths, pumping as much as you can with your hand as he tries to act like he isn't getting sucked off while proctoring an exam. you can hear people starting to turn in their exams and saying goodbye, so you take him back into your mouth and try to relax, breathing through your nose as his cock twitches in the back of your throat and you gag.

you bob your head after that, your tongue flat against his cock as he slightly bucks his hips. you feel him type out something for the class and then he moans very lowly, bucking his hips up and you choke a bit as he slides further in your mouth and stretches your throat.

he doesn't feel you that he's about to cum, you just know, and he's clenching the edge of his desk and breathing hard as you eagerly swallow around him, moving slightly so the new angle makes him toss his head back for a brief moment before snapping back to the screen.

"professor, are you sure you’re okay?" someone asks again. you keep bobbing up and down on him as he mutters, "yes, thank you ms. ruben. finish your work and we can leave."

you figure those words are for you, and you move harder, helping him chase his high. he pulls your hair suddenly, which makes you keen forward and take him deep, gagging as you force your throat to relax.

and then soon he’s hitting his high, cumming in your mouth with a silent shudder, his hand squeezing his desk as the other hovers over his keyboard. you moan a bit as you swallow, pulling off him slowly as he pants, eyes glancing down at you.

you slide back up into your seat and sip on your beer, fixing your hair slightly as his eyes bounce from you to the screen. you smile innocently at him, his cheeks flushed and looking disheveled as he waits fro the last students to finish.

it's about three mintes until they're done and he stares directly at you once he ends the meeting. you expect him to say anything but what comes out of his mouth next.

"if you pull something like that again i will fuck you in front of the entire class.” he says it dead serious, eyes bright behind his glasses and boring straight into yours.

your legs feel like they could give out and you turn red as you watch him, “don’t act like that thought doesn’t have you already getting hard again.” is all you can think to say. it spills from your mouth quickly, your mind not even given time to think before you say it.

richie narrows his eyes, rising slowly from his chair and walking towards you, eyes locked the whole time. “funny. because you’re the one who couldn’t even wait two minutes before needing my cock in her mouth. i bet you’d let me fuck you anywhere i wanted and you’d still thank me for it afterwards, right princess?”

you’re not really used to this fierce banter between you and your professor - but when has this ever been professional?

you squeeze your legs together and stand up on wobbly legs. “shut up. you’re the one who said you’d give me first-hand experience on my essay. you wanted me the second you saw me.” you try to regain the upper hand, but he’s walking towards you and your legs hit the edge of his desk.

“of course i did, doll.” he says lowly, lips suddenly very close to yours. “and i still do.”

and you’re kissing again desperately, days upon days of desperation working its way into your kiss as you sit yourself on his desk and he comes between your legs, gripping your thighs.

he's dragging his hips against yours, his hard cock pressing against your heat and making you pant with need as you tug his curly strands. his hands then move to quickly undo his pants and pulling himself out of his boxers, his hard cock slapping against his abdomen. you whimper slightly as you spread your legs a bit, desperate to finally feel him inside you.

and then his hand is grabbing your face, thumb holding your chin as he turns your head to look right at him. "you better do exactly what i say, princess." he says, looking into your eyes. you nod, his thumb grip stern as he lines up at your entrance. “hm? or you wont get what you want.”

"yes, richie, yes. wan' it so bad, please." you mutter, making him smile. "aren’t you a good girl." he says with a grin, nudging your shoulder down until you’re laying on your elbows, legs bent and feet propped against the edge of his desk. then he’s pulling your lacy underwear aside and pushing into you in one motion.

the sudden stretch fills you to the brim and you let out a guttural noise at the feeling, having not been too warmed up to his cock. your back rubs uncomfortably against the wood of the desk as he pushes into you, but your hands grip his shoulders and all you can think about is richie. but then he stills, staring at you as he’s stretching you out, buried to the hilt.

you think he’s giving you time to adjust and so you relax, breathing as you take in the size of him. after a few moments, you kiss him. “please move richie.”

but he doesnt. and you moan, your legs quivering as he gently caresses one of your bent knees.

“good girl, begging for me.” his hands grip your thighs, holding them open as your eyes roll back slightly, “so fuckin’ pretty like this, baby.”

you turn red at the praise, trying to move your hips and feel him deep inside you. his hand falls to your stomach, pressing slightly. he tuts and you gasp, “stay still for me baby, wanna see you wait for it.”

you whimper, eyes closing as you try to breathe normally. his hands run up and down your sides, stomach, chest, hips, and then down your legs as he stands still, buried in you. your breathing is shaky with need.

and then when you think you can’t handle it any longer, richie slowly pulls out. you moan, hands gripping his shoulders as the feeling coils your abdomen with pleasure. he starts thrusting slowly, picking up the pace so slowly it was torturous.

your nails rake down his back, and even though it’s through his shirt you’re sure it’ll leave faint red lines. your toes curl in pleasure as he moves his hips, hitting the perfect spot inside you.

“look at you, all wrecked on your professor’s cock.” he pounds you into the desk, lips then falling to suck large marks on your neck, the stinging pleasure adding to the volume of your moans.

his hands rise to lift your shirt up over your chest, sliding up to quickly palm your breasts, his hips starting to snap in an unforgiving pace. you feel him so deep inside of you that tears prick at your eyes, the pleasure building instantly. he’s leaning over you as he hits the sweet spot deep inside you, your vision coming in and out of focus as your legs begin to shake. “yes, richie, right there.” you moan, holding him above you as one of his hands goes to your hip, gripping tight as he pulls you towards him in time with his thrusts. it makes you yelp in pleasure, head tiltin back in euphoria.

he pulls back to look at you, hand tugging on your hair so you look at him as he pounds into you. "look at you, such a brat teasing me while i was teaching.” his voice is deep and rough, "look at you now, drunk on my cock. you just needed to remember your place, huh baby?" he coos, pressing a kiss to your temple, the feeling overwhelming as your orgasm creeps up quickly. “such a pretty girl.” he whispers.

you’re speechless as he pounds into you perfectly, the feeling making you sigh. "so perfect, all for me... so fuckin' pretty, baby." he's muttering kissing you like he's claiming you, his teeth clashing slightly with yours and his tongue dominating. you're weak, legs shaking as he pounds into you.

“are you close, doll?” he asks, eyes closed in bliss as he tilts his head back, hair catching the fluorescent light of his office lamp and looking beautiful. “yes, s’close, please-“ you moan, pulling him to your lips.

your eyes close slightly as he thrusts into you, one hand slipping up to roll your nipple softly and making you moan his name. as he sucks a hickey on to your neck, his thrusts begin to get sloppy and you clench around him. “god, you were made for me, baby. fuck, takin’ it so well.”

and you hit your high after a series of pleas and moans of richie’s name, your eyes rolling back in euphoria. he’s rubbing your cheek, still thrusting as he whispers, “good girl, cumming on my cock.” the moan he lets out at the feeling of you clenching around him has you red as you feel his hips stutter. “fuck, y/n.”

you’re still clenching slightly from overstimulation as richie quickly pulls out of you, cumming on your bare stomach with a moan of your name, a sweet sound from the pink of his lips. you moan in pleasure as you watch him.

you look up with hooded eyes, still coming down from your high as his head falls on your shoulder. “fuckin’ hell, toots.” he whispers with a laugh, which makes you giggle a bit as you catch your breath, mind still muddled.

after a moment richie pulls away, re-tucking in his pants and straightening his shirt. he crosses behind you and returns with a shy, boyish grin and a box of tissues. you smile back and he gently guides your hand away as he reaches for a tissue himself, wiping you clean gently and pressing kisses over your stretch marks, kissing all the way up to your lips and making you giggle. your stomach is full of butterflies as he helps you right yourself from the desk.

“did you drive here?” he asks. you shake your head, looking up to him for a second, “i walked.” you squeak.

he nods. “i’m driving you.”

you flush, “no, i couldn’t ask you to do that, professor.” you say shyly. he throws you a look as he pulls his jacket on, shutting down his work laptop. “get over here now, doll. and don’t protest. i’m driving you, toots. it will make my night to buy us some chinese takeout.”

your heart flutters as you take his hand, glancing at the ground with a smile as he locks his door, both of you stopping and staring at the plaque on the outside of the door that reads:

professor tozier, sociology dept.

you cough and he looks down the hall before grabbing your hand again and making your way out to the parking lot. it’s silent - both of you certainly thinking about how wrong this, whatever it is, is. you almost roll your eyes at the cheesiness of what you think next - but why does it feel so right?

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#richie tozier smut #richie tozier x reader #losers club x reader #losers x reader

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