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quizzicalwriter · 8 months

Note

dally Winston x hyperfemme, soc!reader

You can make it nsfw or just fluff x

It’s you, it’s you

Pairing: Dallas Winston x Fem/Soc!reader

Summary: Dallas wasn’t one to be cordial with Soc’s on the best of days, so how the hell had you wove your way through his heart?

Warnings: Smut. MDNI. Soft Dallas, touching, kissing, fingering, morning sex. It’s cute and I need more soft Dallas moments, he’s capable of being soft dammit.

A/N: Thank you for the request!

Word Count: 2.9k

If someone had told Dallas a year ago he’d be wrapped around the finger of a Soc he would’ve punched the shit out of them, out of principle, of course. Yet here he was, staring up at your bedroom window, wagering on if he could make it up onto the roof if he used the railing from the porch as his footing. He’d had to sneak in to see you after getting caught between your legs by your less-than-thrilled father who subsequently chased him off the lawn with a shotgun.

It sounded cliche, but it was true. The talk you’d had with your parents after the fact mortified you more than anything you’d ever had to go through up until that point. How you were a ‘good girl’, how you had a ‘pedigree.’ Their words made you feel like a damn dog, but that’s all they ever spoke of when it came to you, how you were supposed to marry someone rich and keep the family name out of the dirt.

If it’d been years ago you might’ve been inclined to agree, but that was then, and now you were just as whipped for Dallas as he was for you. You two continued to meet, albeit a bit more secretive than before, usually unprompted and random on his part if he could help it. He liked the way you smiled whenever he showed up unannounced, how you’d scramble to your feet to throw your arms around his neck and kiss him. It made him feel funny, made his heart thump harder in his chest, something he’d never felt with anyone before.

So instead of you sneaking him in as you always did, both of you whispering and tiptoeing up to your bedroom, he decided he could hop up onto the roof. He dried his hands on his jeans, murmuring some self-encouragement under his breath as he ran toward the porch. Somehow he successfully propped himself up on the railing, his hands clutching the lip of the roof for dear life. As he propped his upper half up on the roof his knees knocked against the wooden rails along your parent’s front porch. He stilled, bottom half still swinging in the air as he prayed for your parents to have slept through the noise.

Somehow they did, and after a moment he hoisted himself up onto the roof, taking a moment to catch his breath before moving around the side toward your bedroom window. He’d been dusting off his jeans when he locked eyes with your form, hand behind yourself as you raked your hair back, detangling it from what he could see. But in truth all he could focus on was the near sheer quality of your nightgown, the white fabric clinging to your skin that still appeared wet.

He could hear music softly humming from your record player, your hips swaying in tandem with the beat as you applied your moisturizer. He was mesmerized, standing like an idiot on your parent's roof staring into your bedroom window, unable to tear himself away from the heavenly sight that played out before him. Only when you turned around and locked eyes with him did he move, but in your mind, his figure didn’t register as him, it was just some random guy on your roof. So you stumbled backward, bumping into your dresser as a scream built in your chest.

Dallas could see the fear written across your face, so he moved toward the window, cursing under his breath as he motioned to his face. “It’s me!” He whisper shouted, laughter following his words as your face relaxed, fear soon replaced by blatant irritation as you padded over to your bedroom window, unlocking it and lifting it for him to crawl in.

“You’re a psychopath, you know that?” You huffed out, unable to hide the smile on your lips as you watched him duck into your bedroom. “How’d you get up here? Did you jump?”

“Porch railing.” He stated, tone nonchalant as he closed the window behind him, turning to you with a grin. “C’mon, sweetheart, don’t act like you ain’t happy to see me.”

You’d never been good at lying, especially when it came to Dallas, so instead of playing the part of an irritated girlfriend you moved toward him, looping your arms around his neck as you placed a gentle kiss on his waiting lips. You could smell cigarette smoke on his skin, surely from one he’d smoked on his way over to your house. It wasn’t too long of a walk, but you knew him well enough to know that any walk longer than five minutes would result in a cigarette between his lips.

“Missed you.” You murmured against his lips, pulling back a fraction to tilt your head back to meet his gaze. “Did you want to sleep over?”

The words were so innocent, innocent enough that it left Dallas’s heart aching in his chest, a smile he couldn’t will away if he tried writing itself across his face as you looked up at him, doe-eyes wide with hope. He nodded, placing a kiss on your forehead as you giggled in excitement.

“You chose the perfect day.” You replied, backing away from him before motioning proudly to your bed, the bedsheets and pillows all puffed up and pretty. “Just washed them, they’re nice and warm.”

He hummed out a laugh, kicking off his shoes before moving over to the bed, smoothing his hand out against the sheets. They felt silken under his touch, as much as he wanted his thoughts to remain pure he could only picture how you’d looked only a week ago, face down and rutting your hips back into him as he fucked you.

“They’re nice, doll.” He whispered, turning to you with a smile. You flushed, moving over to him before propping yourself up on the bed, white nightgown billowing with the movement, giving Dallas a perfect view of your ass before it was covered once more. He gave himself a moment, clearing his throat quietly before joining you on your bed, pulling you flush with his chest in a manner he knew you loved.

You tucked your head into his chest, breathing in his scent, the familiar mixture of cigarette smoke and cologne. You’d always loved moments like that, being held by him, savoring the shared comfortable silence. He was a rugged person, someone whose childhood was the polar opposite of your own. You never spoke of it, but in the moments he held you, resting his cheek against the top of your head, you could feel it healing something within him.

“Stuffed animals are diggin’ into my back, man.” He grumbled out, lifting himself momentarily to pull one of your stuffed animals out from underneath him. He looked down at you, holding the plush in his hand with his eyebrows raised in disbelief. “Is this new? Where the hell do they keep coming from?”

You laughed, extending out your hand to grab at the poor thing, placing it behind you on top of your pillow. “Be nice, Dal! They have feelings.”

“Sure, doll.” He responded through a laugh of his own, making himself comfortable by your side again. He’d bought you one or two, those were the ones you constantly kept on your bed, loving how they reminded you of him. But honestly, the rest were cute to you and you couldn’t pass them up. It was like your dresses or your nightgowns, if something looked cute you felt a pull to get it - and you did.

His hand traced up and down along your back, loving the feel of your nightgown paired with the warmth of your skin pouring through it. You relaxed into the touch, unconsciously arching your back whenever he’d near your neck, the sight making him laugh quietly to himself. You only hummed in response, eyes fluttering shut as you felt sleep creep onto you like a warm blanket. Dallas had a way of calming you that stunned you, little did you know you had the very same effect on him to the point that the guys had asked what had gotten into him as of late, how he wasn’t as quick to anger as he used to be. He’d tell them about you in the future, but he wanted to keep you to himself, for now, anyway.

As your breaths turned soft he watched you, a subtle smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he raised his hand to brush your hair from your face, gingerly helping it behind your ear. He hadn’t been planning on you falling asleep in his arms within the first ten minutes of him being in your room, but he wasn’t exactly complaining about the situation either. In a bid to get comfortable, he stretched his legs, a small groan emanating from his chest at the feeling. Your face scrunched, lips pouted as you pushed yourself closer to his side. He let you, wrapping his arm securely around you as he let his head fall back against one of the many pillows you had on your bed.

You couldn’t remember when you’d fallen asleep, but by the time you’d woken up the morning sun poured through your bedroom windows, your bed noticeably empty. You whined, wiping at your eyes as you tried to focus through the sleepiness still lingering in your veins.

“I’m still here.” Dallas responded, directing your attention over to one of your bedroom windows where he stood hunched over, peering out the glass. He looked over his shoulder to you, giving you a faint smile as he straightened himself out, hair a mess from having just woken up. “Your parents are gone.”

You nodded, stretching your arms over yourself as you moved to sit up on your bed. “They have work.” Your words were interrupted by a yawn, face scrunching up as the remainder of your tiredness trickled from your mind.

Dallas moved back to your bed, gentle with his movements as he placed his hands on either side of your hips, his lips seeking yours. You smiled into the kiss, hands moving to cup his jaw as you laid back on your bed, pulling him on top of you. His skin was so warm, making you shiver slightly. You nudged the sheets down with your foot, helping him underneath them before pulling them back over the both of you, enveloping you both in warmth. He moved his lips from yours, trailing kisses along your jaw and onto your throat. You tilted your head back, quiet sighs falling past your lips as you let your eyes flutter shut, focusing entirely on the feeling of Dallas touching you.

His hand smoothed up and underneath your nightgown, fingertips grazing over your clothed cunt and over your stomach, goosebumps following wherever his touch went. Your breath caught in your chest as his hand cupped your breast, thumb circling the soft skin there as his other arm rested beside your head, propping himself up over you. His knee moved between your legs, applying steady pressure to your cunt, your hips instinctually rolling down against him.

“Dal-“ You whined, feeling your wetness coating your underwear as you continued rutting against his thigh. You were desperate, desperate for his fingers, tongue, anything he’d give you. He could hear the desperation in your tone, a coy smile upon his lips as he lifted his head, leaning up to you to press a kiss to your cheek.

He hummed against your skin, hand moving to cup your sex against his knee, fingers prodding against the outline of your folds, delicately rubbing his fingers up and down. Your hips bucked into his touch, whines falling from your lips as you wordlessly begged him for more. You could hear the slickness of your arousal against his fingers, even through the fabric of your underwear. The sound caused Dallas to smile against your temple, placing a chaste kiss there before moving his hand to hook around the hem of your underwear, slowly pulling them down and off of you.

His hand moved back between your thighs, middle and ring finger separating your folds before pushing into your cunt, gingerly brushing against that spot within you that had your legs trembling against him. Your head fell back against your pillow, soft whines of his name tumbling past your lips as he pushed his fingers deeper, wanting to feel you wrapped tight around his fingers for as long as you could manage.

He trailed his lips down your cheek, onto your throat, taking a moment to leave love marks against your soft flesh before moving to kiss along your chest. You could feel his thumb circling your clit, the added sensation making you rock your hips against his touch, your cunt fluttering around his fingers.

“Can feel you squeezing my fingers, doll.” He murmured against your skin, taking your breast into his mouth, moaning against it as he began moving his fingers faster within you. You could only whimper, back arching from the bed as your arms wrapped languidly around him, not wanting him to move from his current position. When your moans picked up an octave he pulled away, slowly pulling his fingers from your cunt, but continuing his movements against your clit.

“Want you cumming on my cock.” He whispered, voice hoarse as he moved his hand from you for a moment, pulling his pants and boxers down enough to free his cock. You wrapped your legs around his hips, scooting yourself down slightly to bring your cunt flush with his hard cock. You could feel his precum smearing against your folds as he guided himself into you, his eyes fluttering at the feeling of your tight heat enveloping him, pulling him deeper within you.

As soon as he’d bottomed out inside of you he moved back up to you, arms on either side of your shoulders. He looked so angelic above you, morning sun highlighting his features, soft lips parted, hair a mess. You’d wanted to take a moment to savor him like that, but the thoughts were wiped from your mind as he rolled his hips into you, tip brushing against your cervix. Your eyebrows furrowed, a drawn-out moan leaving you as you wrapped your arms around his neck, nails subtly digging into the flesh of his back.

He smiled down at you, pulling out halfway before jutting his hips forward, the motion pulling a gasp from your lungs, cunt tightening around him. His hand moved to your hip, squeezing the muscle and plush skin as he fucked you, keeping the same slow and deep pace all the while. You moved your hand down between you, swirling your fingers around your clit as he moved within you. Your eyes stayed locked with his, loving how connected you felt in that moment.

Your free hand moved to cup the back of his neck, fingers threading through his hair. He moved his hand, grabbing your wrist that rested against his shoulder, intertwining his fingers with yours before pressing it back against the bed. You tightened your grasp on his hand, the cold metal of his ring digging into your knuckle, but you only cared about the way he looked down at you, how his cock felt buried inside of you, brushing against that spot paired with your fingers circling your clit.

You could feel your orgasm building in your lower stomach, your hips beginning to rock with his, cunt squeezing around his cock. He sucked in a sharp breath, exhale faltering as he leaned down to connect your lips once more. You moaned into the kiss, squeezing his hand harder as you felt your orgasm sweep through you, causing your hips to jerk slightly as he continued fucking you through it. He swallowed your moans, not pulling away from the kiss until his lungs burned, aching for air.

He pulled away with a groan, eyebrows furrowed together as he pulled out of you, hand moving down to pump himself through his orgasm, painting your lower stomach milky white with his cum. You caught your breath, watching with parted lips as he fucked his hand, the way his head fell back, a moan falling past his lips. The sight was gorgeous enough to make you clench around nothing.

His eyes moved back up to yours, a soft smile enveloping his lips as he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. You smiled, tilting your head back to feel his lips against yours. He smiled into the kiss, tilting his head to the side to press kisses against your cheek and jaw, the softness of it making you laugh, eyes squeezing shut at the ticklish feeling of his laughter brushing against your skin.

He moved to lay beside you, a short groan following the movement, causing you to look over at him. He sighed, an irritated sound as he arched his back up, fishing another stuffed animal free from underneath his back. He looked at you, the look making you cover your mouth to conceal another fit of laughter.

“You have too damn many.” He grunted out, placing the stuffed animal onto the pillow beside you. “Too damn many.”

You pouted, wiping your lower stomach free of his cum with the bottom of your nightgown, making a mental note to hide the fabric at the bottom of your laundry hamper before he left. You rolled over to face him, leaning up to place a kiss on his nose.

“Not enough.” You replied, words ending in a giggle as he rolled his eyes, although a hint of a smile could be found tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Whatever you say, doll.”

A/N: My phone died editing this. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this! Even if you skip it over I appreciate the interaction with my work nonetheless. As always, you can find my work over on my ao3 account under the user, “Unscriptural.” I hope you guys enjoy soft Dallas as much as I do!

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norrisleclercf1 · 5 months

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Could you write something about Lorenzo and Carlos againnnn. I went and re read those blurbs and fell in love all over

Preferably teen Lorenzo. Maybe smt ab formula 3 vs school or like him liking another drivers daughter or feel free to do anything else if you have ideas 🫶🏼🫶🏼

A/N: Ahhh my little Lolo and Carlos of course!

Lorenzo knew he was in trouble; you and his Papa were going to kill him. He broke his promise and not only that, but he'd also totally be grounded when Carlos was done with him. Sitting in the headmaster's office was not good.

He knew it was even worse when you walked in and Carlos wasn't behind you. "Mrs. Sainz? Your husband not joining?" The headmaster asks, unsure if he should wait. "He had to stay home with our youngest. So, we can continue." You sit down, casting a soft glare to your son.

Lorenzo bows his head as the words between you and headmaster become muffled. "Thank you, I'll need to speak to his father before we make any rash choices." You stand gathering your purse and putting a sting to your touch on the back of his neck.

"Go to the car. Now," You whisper, and Lorenzo moves quick and climbs into the car. At 16, he now felt like he was 5 and be scolded for touching Uncle Charles's Monaco GP 1st place trophy. Lorenzo sits in the car and watches as you stalk to the car.

It's quiet as you drive home, not saying a word. "Do you understand what is happening?" Your voice was calm, to calm for Lorenzo's liking. "Yes," He whispers. "You're failing, you're lucky that your father's name has come into play or else you'd be kicked out. But, dammit Lorenzo." You sigh and take a deep breath.

"This is a conversation for your father." Lorenzo curls in on himself knowing that Carlos was waiting for them to come home. "Is, is he mad?" You cast him a look and Lorenzo wishes for nothing more than the world to swallow him.

"He didn't come with me for a reason." Pulling up to the house, Lorenzo climbs out of the car and stops seeing his father and his team principle walking down to them. "Lorenzo, see you in Italy." He smiles, patting him on the back and Carlos smiles.

But Lorenzo knows the difference, that's his father's PR smile. "Inside the house, now." Carlos's voice was dark and Lorenzo knew he fucked up. "Pa," "You better get inside that house or you'll stay here in Spain instead of going to Italy to race. And I'll ground your ass into ash. Get inside that house Lorenzo Norris Sainz." Carlos points to the door and Lorenzo whimpers.

His father rarely used his middle name, but now he was and Lorenzo knew he was fucked. Walking inside, Lorenzo see his baby sister Isabella coloring with her kangaroo stuffie and waves at her older brother. Lorenzo goes to his room and doesn't come out until Carlos calls for him.

"Sit down," Carlos nods at the chair and Lorenzo quickly takes a seat. "You're failing all your classes, skipping, and sneaking out to go see your girlfriend while also going SIM. Explain to me why I shouldn't lock you down, and make sure you don't have a life again?" "Carlos," You hiss and your husband shrugs.

"Papa, I love racing, it's all I want to do. I'm tired of wasting my time at school. You left school way younger than me, why can't I? Please Papa, this is my world. You should understand." Lorenzo begs. Carlos sits there and listens and smirks. "You failed and about to get expelled, you're getting your high school degree. You can stop in person classes, but while you travel you are to keep your grades up online. Don't do that and I cut your brake wires. Understand me?" Lorenzo nods his head, Carlos patting him and walking off.

"Mama?" "You fuck up, and I won't make excuses for you anymore young man. Get it together, understand me?" Lorenzo smiles brightly and runs over kissing you on the cheek and nodding. "Of course, I'll make you proud." "You already do, baby."

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nevesmose · 24 days

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"Light, I've been wondering something. Who is your favourite Primarch?"

This is dangerous. Since he thinks I'm Kira there's no way he would expect me to choose anyone but Horus but if I overcompensate by naming someone like Vulkan it'll only make him more suspicious. Dammit, Ryuzaki! I can't let you beat me so easily. Based on his disturbing appearance and warped obsession with justice there's a reasonable chance that he's a Konrad Curze fan, which means there's certainly no way I can say Corax. Misa mains Sisters of Battle so she's useless to me yet again.

Heh heh heh. Gotta answer him soon Light, unless you want him to think you're some kind of socially inept turbo-autist. But there's no way people like that would ever be such big Battlemace fans that they'd spend time circlejerking about their space dudes during a murder investigation.

That's a good point, Ryuk. L's principles would never allow him to waste even a second of time pointlessly discussing Primarchs while Kira remains at large. Maybe he doesn't even like 40K at all and this is just a test. Kira would want to slow down the investigation any way he could, including by starting long-winded arguments about which Primarch is the best, so I should avoid the question and tell him we need to focus on the task at hand.

Wait a second! If he had cameras in my room then he must know about the 3000 points of Dark Angels I have in a box under my bed. And even a cursory online investigation would lead him to my posts on r/grimdank. So pretending I don't like 40K isn't an option.

Very clever, L. You almost had me from behind but now I am the one who's behind you. Since he knows I play Dark Angels I could say the Lion is my favourite, but... no, there's no way he would believe that. No one likes the Lion that much.

Dammit, who else is even left? I always forget some of them and I can't sneak away to look it up on Lexicanum. Mortarion? No, L knows I'm obsessively hygienic so he would instantly realise I was lying.

What if I suggest another homoerotic game of tennis or a foot massage? But there's no way he would let anything like that distract him, not from Primarch discourse. Come on, Light! You were looking at a tier list of Primarch GFs only last night!

I just have to go through my remaining options. Even if he is a Curze fan, it's too dangerous for me to say I like him too or he'll start lecturing me about morality and then accuse me of not understanding how he was really a scrungly ratboy who did nothing wrong.

If I choose any of the other Traitor Primarchs he'll take it as more evidence that I'm Kira. So that leaves the Loyalists. Sanguinius and the Khan are both too interesting and Dorn isn't interesting enough. I need to choose someone so average and middle-of-the-road that there's no possible way he could ever use it to show that I'm a despicable power-crazed mass murderer.

"Roboute Guilliman."

#the likelihood of him being Kira just increased by 13%#death note #wh40k #warhammer 40k #warhammer 40000 #horus heresy #primarchposting

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howlingday · 3 months

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Cardin: Alright, I'll stop picking on you IF you can guess what colors I'm wearing.

Jaune: Cardin, just leave us a-

Ruby: Fine!

Jaune: Ruby?!

Ruby: I have to guess all colors?

Cardin: If you can guess enough, then I'll leave you alone.

Ruby: Well, in that case, I choose... (Points) Rainbow!

Cardin: (Standing in all-black sweater)

Jaune: (Staring in disbelief)

Ruby: (Smirking in triumph)

Jaune: (Thinking) Ruby! What the hell are you thinking?! He's clearly wearing just black! There's no way that's right! Unless... Unless you're basing it on the scientific principle that black contains ALL colors, so a rainbow wouldn't be too far off!.

Ruby: (Thinking) Just keep calm, Ruby. Maybe the bluff worked? I mean, if I guess all the colors, at least two of them would be right, right?.

Cardin: ...

Cardin: (Turns away) You win. (Walks away)

Jaune: What?! You won, Ruby?!

Ruby: Never underestimate the power of my mind, Jaune~! Heh heh~!

Cardin: (Thinking) Dammit! How did she know I was wearing a rainbow under this sweater?.

#rwby #ruby rose #jaune arc #cardin winchester

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puddingcatbeans · 1 year

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tim gets injured and assigned to bedrest except he, on principle of being tim drake, refuses to stay in bed, so it's just an entire week of the batfam chasing him down and dragging him back to bed when they inevitably find him in the cave working on a case. i want like a bugs bunny comedy vibe like.

dick patting himself on the back for finally tucking tim back into bed, only to turn around and there's tim click-clacking away on the batcomputer again, god fucking dammit

steph straight up tries to bribe tim. he took the bribe and did not break eye contact as he rolled out of bed and stepped out of his room

damian getting titus to sit on tim and it works for half an hour, but only because tim is severely sleep deprived and he passed out for a bit

jason rolling tim into a blanket burrito and swaddling him like a baby, haha baby bird, stay put. which takes tim over an hour to get out of. tim doesn't appear in the batcave so jason thought he'd won, but only because tim was too busy fucking up jason's room as revenge

duke (smart) watched the proceedings of the above and gladly helped to open the door for tim. he'll help jailbreak the guy if it meant his electronics stayed safe, ok

bruce tries to "disappointed dad" guilt tim into staying in bed but he should know better because tim is immune by now and is caught sneaking out the fucking window

cass gets the closest to winning this terrible "the untitled tim drake" game. she guilts tim into napping with her, and it truly does work, until she wakes up to find he's dragged his laptop onto the bed somehow and has finished a whole ass report

damian, a sore loser: we should just let him loose. good riddance jason, cracking his knuckles: or i can just put him to sleep, bruce, tired: we are Not finding was to cause more harm to your brother.

in the end it's alfred that finally manages to wrangle tim the escape artist. no one knows how he did it though, the door was closed, no one can prove a thing. and, as alfred always says, a gentleman never divulges his secrets.

#batfam #tim drake #red robin #batbros #alfred pennyworth #beanstalks #feral tim amuses me greatly

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whatawonderfulexistence--blog · 2 years

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Dance With Me (Terzo x Reader FLUFF)

Credits to @crowblin for the amazing edit of smiling Terzo

(A/N: I had the cutest idea for this fic, I really hope future me does justice in writing this. The only reason I didn't label this as GN is because the reader does wear a dress to the party, but I kept the pronouns neutral since everyone can wear dresses, obviously. Absolutely no warnings at all, just Terzo and the reader falling in love, dancing being cute, friends to lovers, Primo being a dad.)

You sat in silence as your fellow siblings talked about a party that was going to be held a week from now at the Abbey. They all buzzed with excitement, discussing what they would be wearing, if they were going with anyone or who they hoped they'd get a chance to dance with. "What about you, (Y/N)? Are you going with anyone" Dammit, you were hoping you could keep yourself out of this conversation. You had been planning on avoiding the party all together, not wanting to embarrass yourself due to the fact that you didn't know how to dance.

"Oh, I'm going to be busy that night. Primo needs me to stay late to work on something." Your friends knew how seriously you took your work, and no one was going to question Primo's motives for anything he did.

"Primo loves you, I'm sure if you asked to take the night off for the party he'd let you. Plus, I thought I heard even he was going to be attending this one." You internally grimaced, of course he was. The first time in years he actually decides to go to one of the Abbey's parties when he's your only excuse for ditching.

"I'll see what I can do." You excuse yourself with a smile before heading off. You needed to figure out what to do and you needed to figure it out quickly. There was only one person you could think to turn to at a time like this. You hurried through the halls, eventually finding yourself standing in front of Terzo's office door. You knock tentatively, standing there awkwardly as you waited for him to answer the door. You were surprised when Primo opened the door instead of Terzo.

"Il mio bambino," he smiles at you, "I take it you're looking for Terzo, come in." You enter the office hesitantly, seeing Terzo sitting at his desk. Primo floats past you, back to the chair you assumed he was sitting in prior to your arrival. "Is everything alright (Y/N)? You look troubled my dear." You sigh, not really wanting to admit the reason you were down there. You glance at Terzo, apprehension still apparent in your features, he motions for you to sit.

"I need your help." He rests his elbows on the dark wooden surface in front of him, perplexed by the fact that you seemed serious. You had been best friends with Terzo for years, you never asked for his help on principle. Now, you had gone out of your way to come all the way down to his office, admitting that you needed his help in front of Primo no less, something had to be seriously wrong. "This party next week... I was trying to get out of going. But, apparently, word has gotten around that you're going to be attending." You turn your head to look at Primo. "I'm sorry Papa, I was trying to lie and use you giving me work as an excuse not to go. But, that's besides the point."

Terzo waves his hand, "hold on, pause. Why are you trying so hard to not go, it's going to be fun! Apparently this is going to be different than Secundo's usual parties."

Primo nods in agreement, "I've been told this is going to be closer to a formal ball than one of Secundo's usual... What do the younger siblings call them? Ragers?" You felt yourself starting to physically sweat. That was worse. That just made things even more terrible than they already were. This now has transpired into something far beyond the casual rhythmic club dancing you were used to seeing at these parties. It was very rare for Secundo to hold formal parties like this but when he did they were as grandiose as anything you could possibly imagine. You paled at the thought of what would happen if you even attempted to ballroom dance, you felt sick at the thought of it. "Il mio bambino, are you alright? You look like you're about to faint."

"I can't dance!" You suddenly blurt out to both of them. "If I go to this party I'm going to be the laughing stock of the Abbey because everyone I know dances in some capacity-"

"(Y/N), I'm sure you're not the only one who doesn't know how to dance." Primo tries to reassure you.

You groan, "I know that, but-"

"You don't want to do anything that could make you look stupid." Terzo finishes bluntly. You nod in response, rubbing the bridge of your nose.

"Terzo, you're the only one I could think of to come ask." You saw Primo's gaze swap between the the two of you, a small smirk on his face as if he knew something neither of you didn't.

"You want me to teach you how to dance?" You nod bashfully, still not wanting to accept the fact that you needed his help.

"Well, I think it's time for me to take my leave, let you two discuss this in private." He places a supportive hand on your shoulder. "My doors always open if you're feeling overwhelmed and need a break, come by anytime." You smile at him and nod, watching him walk slowly out the door.

"You want me to teach you how to dance?" Terzo repeats his earlier question quietly, leaning back in his chair with a look of pure disbelief on his face.

"Listen, I'm not happy that I have to come ask for your help, but you're my best friend, and I know you know a wide variety of dance styles... So, I'm hoping you won't make fun of me too badly and you'll help me learn before the party." You couldn't meet his eyes, you didn't want to know how he was looking at you.

"First of all, rude ass, I'm not that mean." You can't help but let out a small laugh at him being offended for you even remotely assuming he was mean. "I'm not going to make fun of you for not knowing how to dance, I used to be lanky and awkward and didn't know how to move my body. It takes time, practice, not everyone is born with the ability to dance. But, we have a week, sí? That sounds like a timeframe I can work with." He smiles brightly at you, an expression you try your best to return. It was definitely for the best that it was your best friend giving you dance lessons, but the whole thing still made you incredibly nervous. Terzo stood, you copied his motions unsure of what he was planning. "I think I know a good place to practice?"

"We're going now? Like, right now?" He nods with a confused expression.

"When do you want to start learning? An hour before the party starts?" He rebuttals. He was right, the more time you got to learn the better. You followed Terzo through the winding halls off the Abbey eventually ending up in a large open room that appeared to be used for storage. Your newfound dance partner ventures off into a corner, shuffling a few things around before letting out a sound of approval when he finds what he was looking for. He pulls out a small stand that had an old record player sitting on it, a box of various records to go along with it. "Let's hope this thing still works." He fiddles with it for a minute, eventually having it click to life. A slow, melodic tune fills the room, Terzo dusts off his hands with a smile. You stood motionless in the center of the room, your arms tightening around yourself as nervous tension built in your chest. Terzo shrugs out of his jacket, tossing it over a nearby stack of boxes before carefully rolling up his sleeves. You swallowed thickly, your pulse speeding up for some reason you couldn't place. He steps closer to you, "are you ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be." He takes one of your hands in his, placing your free hand on his shoulder before wrapping his arm around your waist, pulling you close. He proceeds to talk you through a very basic waltz, counting off each step so you'd know how to time it when you eventually started dancing to the music. You noticably cringed everytime you accidentally stepped on his toes. He would just chuckle and wave it off, telling you it was okay and it was all part of learning. Eventually, after a few days of practice, you started to somewhat get the hang of it.

"Good, good, now the next part is very important. You need to stop looking at the floor." He chuckles, causing you to blush slightly. You made an attempt, your eyes looking at the wall behind Terzo as you mentally pictures the steps. "(Y/N)... Relax." He says with a small smile. You hadn't realized until he said something that you had been holding your breath. He studies your face for a moment, "why don't we take a break for a minute?" Terzo sat down on the floor, a light sheen of sweat covering his skin from the hours you had been practicing that day. You joined him on the floor with an aggravated huff.

"I'm never going to get the hang of this." You say miserably, pulling your knees to your chest and hiding your face in them.

"You're doing great, I never said this was going to be easy. You're already a hundred times better than you were a couple days ago." Terzo slides closer to you, wrapping a comforting arm around your shoulder. You lift your head slightly, meeting his dual colored eyes in the process. You felt... Strange. You were no stranger to physical contact from Terzo, he just always happened to be a very hands on guy, not that you complained. But this made you feel different that anything you had felt towards him before. That tight, thick feeling in your throat was back. The same feeling you got when you watched him prepare to dance with you on that first day. Your heart was thundering in your chest, your hands felt clammy, your stomach churned but not in the sick and queasy way you had experienced before. "I know that by the time the party rolls around, you're going to be even greater at dancing than you could ever imagine." The way he was looking at you, you felt like you were running out of oxygen yet you've never had a fresher breath of air. You were feeling really conflicted.

"Could we pick this up in a couple hours?"

He nods with a concerned expression. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, just a bit tired I think." He stood, helping you from the floor in the process. Terzo continued to hold your hand in his, you reluctantly slipped your fingers out of his grasp.

"I'll be in my office when you're ready to pick back up, okay?" You nod, leaving the room before he had the chance to question why you were suddenly acting so strange. Your walk eventually turned into more of a jog as you ran off to the one place that could always help soothe your mind, Primo's garden. As if expecting you he was already there, tending to his plants like he normally was on any given day. The familiarity of this site helped you relax slightly. There wasn't any new thoughts or feelings, new experiences, just Primo and his garden.

"Il mio bambino, I can smell the anxiety coming off you from here." He didn't look up or stop the task he was in the middle of. You started in his direction, Primo could read you like a book at any given moment of course now was no different. You sat on the wall nearest where he was working, the two of you coexisting in silence before he decided to speak again. "What's wrong my dear?" He turns his full attention towards you and you immediately begin to crumble under his loving, almost parental gaze.

"I'm..." You pause, sighing slightly as you tried to find the right words to say. "I think I might have a crush on Terzo, it feels weird saying that out loud. I don't know, ever since he's been giving me dance lessons I feel like he's all I can think about. I've caught myself day dreaming about him for Satan's sake."

"You and Terzo have been very close for a long time, and as far as I know he's one of the first people you've really taken an interest in... Would it be such a bad thing to, dare I say, see where things go naturally." Primo chuckles, he knew how much you hated navigating things that were new. You always seemed to have a step by step plan to resolve every problem you've ever faced, but not this one. Primo joins you on the wall, taking your hand in his, "I think you should just let things take their course. Even an old man like myself can see the way you look at him, you've always adored him even if you haven't realized it until now. Terzo is your person, and I'd venture to say you're probably his. You know him better than anyone, you probably know him better than I do and he's my brother!" He lets out another small laugh before slowly standing up. He offers you his arm, "how about I take you back to your dance lessons?" You link your arm with his, sharing in some pleasant conversation as he walked you back to Terzo's office. He asked how you thought the lessons were going.

"Terzo's an excellent teacher, he's kind and patient, I'm just worried I'm still not going to be ready, we only have a few days left." Primo hums.

"I don't think you're giving yourself enough credit il mio bambino, I'm sure by the time the party rolls around you'll be ready to dance the night away." You reached Terzo's office, Primo knocks on the door and turns to you. "I hope our little chat today ease's your nerves my dear." Before you had time to respond Terzo opened the door, a confused expression on his face when he sees Primo. "I believe they're supposed to be with you." Saying only that, Primo turned to you, bid you farewell, and floated off down the hallway once more.

"I think I'm ready to try again." You say quietly, a meek smile on your face.

"Excellent." Terzo returns your grin, the two of you heading back down to the empty room that had become your dance studio for the time being. You took your position, Terzo's arm securely around your waist, your body almost flush against his. You started to walk through the steps again, trying to stay in time with the quiet music from the record player. Without realizing it you had started watching your feet again. "Don't look at the floor, look at me." His voice was deep, almost commanding. Your eyes snapped up to his, your cheeks flushing at the close proximity. "That's perfect cara mia, just keep your eyes on me." You didn't want to, being this close to him and having such intense eye contact was making you flustered. But, you had completely stopped overthinking your dancing. Before you knew it your clumsy attempt at a waltz had turned into actual dancing. Every shift of Terzo's body guided you to exactly where you needed to be. Over the last few days before the party dancing with him actually started to become fun. He spun you around the floor, occasionally you both would stumble over your own feet but you weren't riddled with anxiety over it anymore. You got one more practice session in the night before the party. You and Terzo planning on meeting at his quarters tomorrow to hopefully calm any nerves you could possibly have before he kissed the back of your hand and left you to your thoughts for the rest of the evening. You found yourself struggling to pick out something to wear. Knowing that subconsciously you were thinking about how you wanted to look good for Terzo made you groan. You knew Primo was right, nothing horrible was going to happen for giving into your feelings. You managed to find a gown you bought a few years ago that you never had gotten the chance to wear. A simple, elegant, black floor length gown. It was perfect. You were in the process of getting ready the next day when you ran into a problem. You couldn't zip up the gown by yourself. You were audibly cursing to your empty room as you fumbled with the zipper. Suddenly, there was a knock at your door. You held the back of the dress together the best you could with one hand and opened the door with the other. There stood Terzo, tie slung around his neck a small boquette of flowers in his hand.

"Hey, perfect timing, I need your help." You hurriedly pulled him inside. He chuckles, pulling the tie from his shoulder and holding it up.

"Good, because I also need yours." You chuckle, you had been helping Terzo tie his ties for years, of course he still needed help. Unfortunately for him your matter was more pressing. You turned, showing him the open back of your gown.

"Do you think you could zip me up? You felt him step closer to you, that familiar buzz spreading across your skin as you felt him step behind you. You glanced at him in the mirror in front of you. He studied your face for a moment, a small smile on his lips. Terzo's fingers were cool as they dragged up your spine, effortlessly bringing the zipper up along with it. After he was done he rested his hands on your waist, admiring the way you looked, how the dress hugged your curves in exactly the right spots.

"You look radiant this evening cara mia." You can't help but blush at the compliment. You turned, taking the tie out of his hand and placing it around his neck. You tied it meticulously, making sure his collar was neatly folded over, the knot perfectly done.

"Just as handsome as ever." You smile, resting your hands on his chest. You got caught up in his gaze, mismatched eyes keeping you pinned in place. He glanced down at your lips momentarily, your heart rate instantly picking up at the sight. He had just barely started to inch his face closer to yours when you panicked, "these flowers are beautiful!" You caught sight of them on the table where Terzo left them.

He sighs slightly, "they're from Primo. He wanted to apologize for not being able to come see you before the party, but he'll make sure to find you at some point tonight." You take a deep breath, inhaling the flowers sweet scent. "(Y/N)... Would you care to accompany me tonight?" You smile, setting the flowers down and stepping closer to him to adjust his tie once more.

"Nothing would make me happier Terzo." The two of you made your way to the party, Terzo wrapping his jacket around your shoulders because he insisted that you looked cold. You helped him back into his coat, smoothing out his suit before the two of you entered. You took his arm, smiling up at him. The place was already a buzz with energy, Terzo had a talent for being fashionably late. You wandered around and mingled a little. You eventually found Primo, he looked like he was about to shed a tear when he told you how wonderful you looked. Your arm linked with Terzo's once again, Primo passing a knowing glance between the two of you. Terzo turns to you, bowing slightly as he offers you his hand.

"Would you care to dance cara mia?" You placed your hand in, he gently brings the back of it to his lips. He leads you to the dance floor at the start of the next song, pulling you into his embrace. Actually being out on the dancefloor you started to feel nervous. Apparently that showed in your face, "remember, look at me... Only at me." You took a deep breath, hours upon hours of practice taking over your body with ease. He whisked you around the floor, spinning you around just like he had before. He held you close to him, both of you laughing giddily as you danced, drank, and laughed the night away. You and Terzo made your way down the hall, stumbling into each other and giggling.

"My feet hurt." You groan.

"You always wear heels to the parties, and you always complain." Terzo teases you. He suddenly scoops you off of the ground, earning a startled, happy shriek from you. "You can't complain about how much your feet hurt when you're not using them." You laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck. You walked past Terzo's quarters on the way back to your own, you stopped him.

"Can I come inside?" He smiles as he studies your face.

"Of course you can cara mia." He sets you down for just a moment while he opens his door before immediately sweeping you off your feet again. He flops back onto the couch with a groan, you now seated comfortably in his lap. He smooths your gown over your legs, "I can't get over how beautiful you look in this gown."

"Well you look very nice in that suit." You smile at him, he kissed the back of your hand. "Terzo?" He hums in response to your question. "Can... Can I kiss you?" His hand comes to rest on the side of your face. You could feel his breath against your lips as you got lost in his eyes. Terzo started to inch his face closer to yours, this time you didn't try to look for an escape. Your eyes fluttered shut as his lips finally met yours. You grabbed him by his collar, pulling him as close to you as physically possible as he kissed you. "I'm... In love with you, Terzo... I think I have been for years..." You admit nervously. In response to your confession Terzo kisses you again.

"I was worried you weren't going to feel the same... I didn't want to risk ruining our friendship." You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Both of you had been in love with each other for years, and you both were just too scared and stubborn to admit it. You both gazed lovingly at each other, leaning in for another short sweet kiss before talking the rest of the night, drifting off in each other's arms.

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steddio · 1 year

Text

It’s four pm on a Friday and the damn bell on Steve’s desk is ringing over and over like someone is playing whack-a-mole. Normally this wouldn’t even faze him. Almost a decade in luxury hotel guest services and entitled rich people tend to blend together into a mildly obnoxious but bearable blur. But at the moment, he’s in the middle of coaxing his very nervous-bordering-on-hysterical daughter into just going downstairs to meet her (frankly, adorable) homecoming date. He gives the universal “one minute” gesture over his shoulder and tries to gently wrap up the call.

“Sweetheart, I’m sure you look great. Didn’t your mother help you with your hair? Then it looks fantastic. It’s just Lucas, you’ve known him since you were six! I’m sure he’ll agree that you look beautiful.” Steve pinches the bridge of his nose, feeling a migraine coming on.

“If he kisses you, he kisses you, you’ll figure it out! It’s not that hard!” He hears a snort behind him and it takes every bit of willpower in his body to not turn around and glare. “Sweetie, I have to go, I’m at work. Take a deep breath and go downstairs. And please take pictures!” He can practically hear Max’s eye roll through the phone. “I love y-” he gets out, but she’s already hung up. He inhales, counts to four, exhales, and turns to the counter, customer service smile already in place.

“Hello, my apologies for the wait, how can I help you, Mr.-?”

Standing in front of him is maybe the most gorgeous man Steve has ever seen. And living in Vegas he’s seen his share of attractive people. He’s tall, just enough that Steve has to look up slightly to meet his eyes, and wiry thin, wearing a band tee with the sleeves cut off down to his waist, which should look ridiculous on a man his age but doesn’t, instead showing a hodgepodge of well-aged tattoos. His hair is long and curly, nostalgic in a pseudo-mullet 80s way, with strands of gray at the temples. Long lashes frame wide, Bambi-like eyes that sharply contrast with pouty lips twisted in a condescending smirk.

“Munson,” he drawls, giving Steve an obvious once over.

Steve tries and fails not to blush. But only a little. He’s a professional, dammit.

“Mr. Munson, how can I help you?” He asks politely. The name sounds a bit familiar, but he can’t place it. And there are lots of famous and wannabe-famous guests at this casino anyway.

“My room needs more towels,” Mr. Munson states bluntly.

Steve opens his mouth to respond that this is the concierge and they do not handle housekeeping requests and has he tried the front desk, before he sees the look of challenge in the guest’s eyes and bites his tongue. Path of least resistance it is, principles be damned.

“Certainly, I’ll make a call to housekeeping,” he replies. “What’s your room number?”

“1403.”

Steve expects the man to walk away while he picks up the phone and orders more towels for the room. But he just stands there, looking at Steve assessingly.

“Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. Munson?” Steve forces himself to ask. The migraine is in full force now, and he’s impatient to splash water on his face and take enough pain meds to make it to 10 pm when his shift ends. He’s distracted from his pain for a moment, though, when he notices an air of uncertainty interrupt the guest’s previously cocky demeanor.

“Can you, uh-” Mr. Munson starts. Stops. Takes a deep breath. “Can you put together a list of AA meetings? Ones nearby, so I don’t have to go far. Ideally one that meets tonight, but also one that meets tomorrow. And maybe just a list of all of them, organized by day, if that’s not too much to ask for, just in case.”

The words pour out in a nervous jumble that takes Steve aback. Not that this is his first request for AA meetings, but normally guests don’t come downstairs and ask for them in person. No, normally he sends them to agents and handlers and the occasional concerned partner.

In that moment, Steve is deeply grateful for his hard-earned, unflappable professionalism and the fact that this is Vegas and there’s no shortage of addicts in or out of recovery, which allows him to calmly tell Mr. Munson that, “Certainly, we keep a list on hand. Let me print it out for you.”

He turns to his computer and busies himself with pulling up the document and sending it to the printer, giving some space to the guest, who’s rocking on the balls of his feet slightly, one strand of hair pulled in front of his mouth. As he turns to grab the paper from the printer, Steve sees him shake his head slightly and square his shoulders. The sight of this obnoxious stranger giving himself a silent pep talk fills Steve with the sort of fondness for human nature that he thought he was too jaded to experience anymore.

He places the document on the counter and grabs a highlighter.

“This is the closest meeting tonight. It’s at 8 pm, and there’s another one at 10:30 in the same location,” he explains, highlighting a line on the page. “It’s about a 15-minute walk. Go right out the front door, walk to the end of the block, turn right, and four blocks down it will be on your left, in the City of Grace Church.”

Mr. Munson is looking seriously down at the paper, brow furrowed. He looks… cute, Steve has to admit. Vulnerable. Which is why he does something stupid.

“If you want, I can walk you there.” The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them, and he tries to backtrack as fast as possible. “Or, I can, you know. Print out a map. Or you probably have maps on your phone, the address is right there, it’s pretty hard to get lost in Vegas, although sometimes the buildings block cell service.” And oh fuck, Steve is rambling. He cuts himself off before can dig a deeper hole.

“Would you?” the guest asks. And it’s not shy at all. No, it’s sultry, almost indecent, coupled with those big doe eyes looking down at Steve. “I’d be so grateful, if you wouldn’t mind.” And as much as Steve tries to tell himself it’s well within his job description to escort a guest to an AA meeting, he knows he’s stepping into dangerous territory. But he’s always been one to throw himself headlong into danger.

“Certainly, Mr. Munson. Just come to the desk when you’re ready to leave.”

“It’s Eddie,” the guest replies. His eyes glance to Steve’s nametag. “Please, Steve. Call me Eddie,” he grins, eyes wicked.

“Very well, Mr. Mun- Eddie,” Steve concedes, feeling a little out of his element. “Now, is there anything else I can help you with?”

“Nope.” Eddie pops the p. His grin turns down on one side so that the cocky smirk is back. “See you tonight, Steve.” He turns and walks away, narrow hips and thighs moving in sinfully tight black jeans that make Steve’s mouth go dry.

Steve lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and shakes himself a little, digging in the desk drawer for his headache meds. He goes to the restroom, swallows the pills, splashes his face with water.

“Get a grip, Harrington,” he mumbles to himself in the mirror. How many attractive hotel guests has he helped over the years? He can handle this one. Even if there’s something about Eddie (and a secret part of Steve thrills at the use of a first name), Steve can handle it. He can.

He makes his way back to the concierge desk where a young couple is waiting.

“Hello, my apologies for the wait, how can I help you?”

read part 2 here

read on ao3

#steddie #stranger things #steddie vegas au #is this anything? should I write more parts?#this au idea has been stuck in my head for MONTHS #lmk if you like it : )#A writes

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erinptah · 8 months

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Do you think Jake's hat is his compromise between 'wear obvious headcovering typical of jews like Marc's dad' and 'don't wear anything at all like your headmates' because old habits die hard. This headcanon hit me like a truck a while ago.

I mean he does declare "Of course I'm Jewish" when Steven asks in CoK verse but he doesn't seem any more religious than Marc.

Maybe he just like the beret, maybe he's trying to look like a cabbie in the comics, maybe some third option

Oh, huh, there's an idea. Wearing an acceptably-observant level of head covering, without making it visibly the religious kind.

MCU Jake shows up in nice clothes and a tie, too, he likes to look a little fancy, and he probably takes it as a given that "formal wear" includes some nice headgear. (Marc does too, at least the one time we saw him try to dress up, for the shiva. Steven...doesn't seem to? He didn't on date night, at least.)

Generally I don't write Jake's Jewishness as manifesting in "following specific rules and prescriptions," like wearing specific clothes, eating kosher, not working on the Sabbath, etc.

It's more -- well, first and foremost it's that Jake stands his ground on things Marc feels guilty and unworthy about. Marc feels like a bad human for killing people? Jake's not sorry, guys like Harrow have it coming. Marc feels like a bad Jew for serving another god? Screw that, Jake will be a Jewish Fist of Khonshu if he damn well feels like it, nobody gets to say he's unworthy or take that away from him.

...And then he wouldn't want to dig into the specific values and beliefs and actions that mean Jewishness to him. Because that feels too close to "justify yourself, explain why you count," and the point is that he counts if he says he does, dammit.

But, for a partial list:

Value of community. Sense of justice. Saving lives being more important than following laws. The principle that if a god shows up and starts giving you orders, you get to argue. Arguing in general. Arguing as a form of bonding. Sarcasm. Ability to laugh at yourself. The low-key instinct not to get too comfortable anywhere, you never know when you'll get thrown out. A recurring idea that one way you protect important things is by not getting too close to them.

#Moon Knight #Jake Lockley #Cover of Knight #Ptah's inbox #hopefully I don't need to disclaim that these aren't exclusively-Jewish values?#or that not every Jewish person will find every one central to their own Jewishness #and I'm not implying that they do? or should?#I would like that to be obvious #but we're on the internet. so

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creative-caramel-coffee · 9 months

Text

The Sickness Excuse

Pairings: Weems x Thornhill x Reader (platonic)

Word count: 1.2K

Summary: You used the excuse you were sick one too many times with Principle weems so what happens now your actually sick and can't leave class?

TW: Vomit (I think that’s it idk)

A/n do I ever write fics without someone throwing up?

PART 2

It was the middle of outcast history, the most boring of all your classes and you still were feeling awful. Your stomach had been unsettled for what felt like far too long. It would knot and then go loose before tying itself up again. With each knot the nausea would build but weems already had her eye on you for the amount of history classes you had skipped, and you were running out of excuses. You knew if you skipped and got caught you were in for it. Especially when you used the sick excuse last week and you had no proof of actually being sick. No fever. Yet. Just that uncomfortable pain in your stomach.

The teacher was an old wolf named Terrbine Fleetsted who honestly looked like he was napping and based off the way his little white musta he was moving with the slow rise and fall of his chest you looked to be right. Trying to be as subtle as possible you rested your head on the desk somehow feeling worse. Enid was sat next to you pretending to be working but really, she was writing down some gossip for her blog she had heard in the quad on the way to class. She was rambling about something, and you had honestly stopped listening or paying attention. Your eyes were closed which was probably why when she jabbed you with her pen you jumped a mile.

“Jesus tap dancing Christ enid!” You almost yelled and enid shot you an odd look.

“Dude, have you listened to anything I’ve been saying?” She said with a fake huff. You knew she wasn’t mad the way her eyebrows were twitching she was merely concerned.

“‘M fine ‘nid” you mumbled going to rest your head back on your arm.

“You don’t look too great, maybe you should go lie down.”

“Gee thanks. And i can't weems would probably go dark ages on my ass and burn me at the stake if i miss anymore of this boring ass class.” You said into your elbow.

“Weems can’t be mad for you being sick?” She said sounding confused.

“She won’t believe me. Used the old sickness excuse one too many times.”

“What excuse?” Enid said and before you could answer your stomach knotted painfully and you knew you were going to be sick. Spit pooled in your mouth and you knew exactly what was coming. You jumped up from your chair drawing eyes around the room, yet the teacher stayed asleep. Like a bullet you shot from the room and raced through the halls. Sprinting into the nearest bathroom you could find you dropped to your knees and locked the door before pouring out the contents of your stomach into the toilet. Had you been further than a mere inch from death (as you put it) you may have noticed Enid’s panting breathing coming from behind the door. She knocked rapidly and you barely made out the sound of her yelling something.

“Y/N LET ME IN RIGHT NOW.” She yelled and after a minute you heard nothing. Maybe she gave up? After the small reprieve you rested your back against the stall hearing the door open again. Dammit who was it this time. You heard the distinct clicking of heels and you automatically straightened your spine. Your stomach however revolted at this action and sent you pitching forward into the porcelain again. You gagged and tears stung your eyes as you brought up more of your stomach acid. It burned and you hated every last second of it.

“Honey whats going on in there? can you let us in please?” A voice asked which you faintly recognised as Ms Thornhill. What was she doing here? You simply whimpered and then heard the heels again and watched exhaustedly as the lock on the door turned from the outside. Two faces peered into the stall, and you simply looked at them and blinked, too tired for words. Principle weems and Ms Thornhill stood looking at you for a second before Thornhill quickly came over to you. She gently grabbed your cheek and laid her other hand on your brow to check for a fever.

“Darling are you ok? What prompted this?” Weems asked from where she was observing at the door. Enid had seemingly gone back to class, and you mentally thanked her for not seeing you like this.

You simply sighed and lent over to flush the toilet.

“Honey did you throw up?” Thornhill asked and you nodded weakly.

“Oh darling.” Weems said softly. “Why didn’t you leave class earlier.” She said and you shrugged not wanting to admit you felt you couldn’t. The principle frowned and you closed your eyes and rested your head against the wall.

“Bring her to my office, the nurse went home sick and i have some training in this kind of thing.” Principle weems said and Ms Thornhill nodded. The head mistress swapped spots with Ms Thornhill inside the stall, and she gently scooped you up from the ground and into her arms. You weakly rested your head against her collar bone and closed your eyes.

“Do you feel you may be sick again?” Principle weems asked and sighed softly as she felt you nod into her neck. She motioned for Ms Thornhill to follow, and she grabbed the small black bin from under the sink before trailing after the principle out of the bathroom. You thanked the high heavens nobody saw you being carried like a baby by your principle through the halls but overall, you were too exhausted to care.

You must have been dozing lightly because you felt weems adjusted you and open the door to her office and soon you were being gently lowered to the couch. Ms Thornhill set down the bin beside the bed which was luckily empty. Weems tucked a blanket around you and slipped a thermometer under your tongue. You were too tired to protest and simply hummed and closed your eyes.

You felt a hand brushing the hair from your eyes and back away from your face.

“Ms L/n how do you feel now?” Weems asked and you nodded which was met with a chuckle.

“Honey that doesn’t tell me much.” The principle said and Ms Thornhill smiled sadly down at you. You let out a low dejected hum and Weems frowned.

“Bad huh?” She said and you nodded again, and she removed the thermometer.

“101.2 did you eat something odd?” She asked frowning at the stick.

“No i don’t think so. Just…”

“Just what?” Ms Thornhill prompted.

“Just a coffee from the weathervane and something from the new bakery in Jericho. I dunno it tasted slightly odd I guess.” You mumbled and the principle looked at you sadly.

“Oh darling.” She said. “I’ll be sure to follow up on that. But right now, get some rest and I’ll wake you up a bit later for some medicine when you’ve settled some more.” She said and gently drew circles on your stomach. You hummed in agreement and shuffled around a bit to get comfy which made both teacher's chuckle. Once you had deemed yourself safe and comfy enough to fall asleep your breathing evened out and you knew you would be well looked after.

MASTERLIST

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