#and then we were just there in the teachers' lounge kitchen like 'oh fuck...we have class in 30 minutes!!'

[cibeeorsomeshit]

teach him your handwriting (ao3)

fluff; established relationship

Blitzø slumped into Stolas’ lounge chair and groaned about paperwork fucking up his life for the eighth time in the past two weeks. Stolas couldn't help but feel like he was missing something.

“Blitzø, darling, do you need help?”

“He finally fucking got it.” Blitzø rolled over and onto Stolas, burying his face into the covered puss that had no right being this soft to lie on. “Moxxie keeps bitching at me to hire someone or get my shit together.”

“I see. And you wish to—hire me?”

“What? No, I can't focus if you're there.” Blitzø groaned immediately and pinched Stolas’ thigh hard enough that it would have bruised if it were anyone but Stolas. “You didn't hear that. I didn't say that.”

“Of course.” Stolas managed to comply before the urge to scoop his lover up and kiss him senselessly overwhelmed him. “How may I help you then?”

“Tell me how you do all those boring admin work. You go through them like drug addicts with a bathtub full of coke.”

“How classy,” Stolas said dryly. “I'm just a faster reader, I suppose”

A beat of silence. Blitzø turned his face so it was no longer smothered between Stolas’ legs and started playing with the fine down feathers on his wrist.

“I can't read very well.”

“I know.”

“Most of the words don't make sense. Moxxie is less of a prissy princess than you but he still came from money. Got all the proper education and all that crap. Our imp circus didn't really — It's not like we're legally required to be educated.”

“Actually, it is a legal requirement for children in entertainment to have 180 days of schooling in a year—”

“No one in hell gave two fucks about legal requirements! We didn't even have safety nets, you think they'll hire a teacher?”

“Well, if you want, I could teach you.”

“You have better things to do than to teach me how to fucking look at words, Stolas.”

“There are rarely things better than spending time with you, Blitzø.”

“…this isn't some weird sexy teacher kink, is it?”

“You think I'm sexy?” Stolas hurriedly pushed down his urge to have every part of Blitzø kissed at least twice, more if Blitzø was in a good mood and let him.

“Fuck you. You know what you look like.”

“I don’t want to overstep.” Stolas pulled Blitzø upright so they faced each other, which was exactly the position Blitzø didn't want to have this conversation in. “I know I can be overwhelming when it comes to things I’m passionate about and it definitely doesn't help that this involves words and you…”

“Ugh, oh my god, don't — you know I don’t think—I just need your he—fuck, I can’t say it. I'm going to be sick.”

Stolas’ smile was all gooey. “Will you satisfy my desire to spend time with you under the pretense of helping you with readings?”

The vaguely nauseated twitches to Blitzø’ mouth smoothed out, along with the rest of his body.

“If that's what you want, you attention whore.” Blitzø half-said, half-purred as he curled up in Stolas’ lap, back spines flared up in pleasure as Stolas’ finger massaged between his horns.

“Thank you for indulging me,” Stolas said, in the most indulgent tone since the beginning of hell, probably.

Spending time with Blitzø in his study or in the kitchen or on the bed pouring over books was what Stolas imagined heaven to be like. They scribbled in the margin of books, Stolas annotating or explaining, while Blitzø took in things in the fascinating way he did. Stolas was enjoying it all way too much to realize his mistakes.

A pile of papers and sticky-notes were dropped onto his desk.

“Ah,” Stolas said, very regal and dignified and not panicking at all. “It seemed I forgot I had some prior engagement I forgot about, but I’m sure you can manage without me. You’ve improved so much, you know—and my library is your to use, so I think I’ll just—”

“Stolas, what the actual fuck.” Blitzø was standing on the desk and towering over Stolas, presumably to assert dominance, even though he did that very well already at ground level.

“To be fair, you told me you don’t read them.”

“Yeah, because I go cross-eyed at your fancy rich people cursive.”

Most of the papers are dented and crumbled because Stolas folded them into little owls or lizards and had them sneak into Blitzø’s office when he was gone. Blitzø always took pictures when he came back and sent them to Stolas, but never indicated that he read them, or even opened them, let alone—

“I didn’t know you kept these.” Stolas said weakly.

Blitzø’s face darkened. “Yeah, well. I have a drawer for them.”

“You do?”

“That’s—fucking hell, that’s not the point! You were just never going to—shit, goddamn it, God fucking damn it!”

Stolas realized Blitzø was genuinely and not simply comically upset, and that made him rather miserable. “I’m sorry,” said Stolas, in a small voice. “I didn’t mean for them to be so upsetting.”

“Well, they are!”

Stolas started to gather all of them and deliberated between the fireplace or some exorbitant spell, maybe he would throw himself into the mix as well. A few blissful moments of oblivion sounded perfect right about now.

But Blitzø snatched all of them back before Stolas could finish and hissed with every part of him, clutching them to his chest with a sort of animalistic protectiveness. Stolas was baffled.

“You’ve been writing me love letters for—for so long and I didn’t even know.” Blitzø bared his fangs. “I thought they were just smut! I made fun of them to people! To you! And you let me!”

“I’m sorry.” Stolas repeated, and stood up when he noticed a shine to Blitzø’s eyes. “I’m so sorry, darling.”

Blitzø bumped his forehead to Stolas’ chest, sunk in, wetting the feathers there. “Why do you let me treat you badly?”

Stolas wrapped his arms around Blitzø tight enough to cut off air. Blitzø forced the words out anyway: “I’ve been trying so hard to make up for the way I was with you before. Now I just keep thinking about how you felt when I fucking…tell you I don’t read them, or that it’s just cluttering up my office, likes they’re garbage. Fuck, Stolas.”

“Please don’t cry, Blitzø. It doesn’t matter now. You’ve been so good to me, don’t you understand?”

“Were you upset? When I said those things?”

“Darling…”

“Were you?”

Resigned, “Yes.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thank you for apologizing.”

Blitzø needed that, to know he was forgiven. He finally wrapped his arms around Stolas. Legs, too. And tail. Sotlas happily sustained all his weight.

“Do you want to take a rain check on our lesson today?” Stolas asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Blitzø mumbled.

“What would you like to do? We can watch a movie, or I can have someone prepare the spa room—”

“I want you to read to me.”

“What?”

Blitzø stuffed all the letters right into Stolas’ face. “Read them to me.”

“W-well, that’s quite embarrassing…”

“And I’ll reply to them.” Blitzø removed his face from Stolas’ chest and glared up at him, made completely non-threatening with the snot dripping down his face and the way his tail caressed Stolas’ back. “Prepare some fucking coffee, sweetheart, because I don’t care if it takes all night. I’m replying to every single fucking one, and I’m going to do it when I’m balls deep inside you too. Make sure it really gets in there until you never forget.”

“O-oh.” The sensitive place between Stolas’ legs tightened and he could probably just hump Blitzø there like that and finish, but he was so desperate for Blitzø to fulfill his promise that through some sort of miracle he controlled himself long enough to get them back to his bedchamber. And all night it took, alright. Blitzø hadn’t got an ounce of regret when he showed up for work the next day completely sleep-deprived.

It was all good though, since a paper owl was waiting for Blitzø in his office.

#helluva boss #stolitz #stolas #blitzø #blitzo #blitz #my writing

[eisbecherovka]

#alcohol #reblog if u like #ok one time i came into a morning shift at the bakery still drunk from the night before #another time at the school we had prosecco for a teacher's birthday #so my clique and i had 2 glasses each (lil champagne flute glasses) #during the lunch break #and then we were just there in the teachers' lounge kitchen like 'oh fuck...we have class in 30 minutes!!' #prosecco will fucking Get You man

[laalaaliaa]

Hey!!

I know I just requested something similar to this but can u pls do a batfam x batsis were she gets her phone taken away after school so she uses the house phone to talk to her friends

Little did she know that everybody wad listening in on her conversation from the batcaves phone.

And they were all talking abt some juicy drama.

Long story short, one of her friends accidentally admits to fucking her other friends ex.

Uh Oh!

in which the batfamily is nosy

batfam x fem!reader

proofread? no

thanks for the request, hope you enjoy, it’s pretty short <3

When you came home from school, you expected to spend the rest of you day lounging around the house, scrolling through your phone, or talking to friends. However you were shocked when You entered the house, phone in clutch as you giggled at something your friend sent in the group chat. When you strolled past the living room you heard a loud cough, making you lift your head as you caught sight of Bruce sitting in his pre-reserved recliner. He had a magazine in his hands as he laid back, making you raise a brow questionably.

“Bruce?” He lowered it, a smile gracing his face as he beckoned you into the living room. “Y/N, we have much to discuss.” Now you were suspicious, creeping into the living room slowly, before settling down on the couch, opposite Bruce. “School called today.” You sunk into the couch, muttering to yourself as you nodded, urging him to continue. “You’re failing math?” You groaned loudly, digging the palms of your hands into your eyes. When you pulled them away, you noticed how much closer Bruce was, as he leant forward—waiting silently.

You thought of ways you could get yourself out of this current predicament, but there was none. “I can’t help it.” You squeaked out, your arms raised as you stared at Bruce. He seemed unfazed, silently leaning on his knees with his elbows as he gazed off silently. “Try harder—don’t look at me like that, until you improve, or until I see progress, I’m taking your phone away.” You felt like you were dying, you gasped loudly, shaking your head as you cradled your phone to your chest.

“Bruce this isn’t fair, it’s not me, it’s the classes.” You insisted, but he only shook his head, holding his hand out as you grumbled loudly. You stared at him for a few seconds before groaning and placing your phone into his hand. “This isn’t fair.” You mumbled as you walked away, glancing back to see him pocket your phone. Stupid math, stupid teacher, and stupid Bruce.

Eventually you got over your dilemma, you passed out once you made it to your room and you woke up right before dinner. With nothing to do, you made your way to the kitchen, glancing at the unoccupied house phone before you took it from the stand, settling on a stool in the empty kitchen. You didn’t know who to dial first, so you stuck with your first option. Alyssa. The phone rang for a bit, until you heard her voice.

“Hello?”

“Alyssa, it’s me, Y/N.”

“Weird, I don’t got your number saved.”

“I’m grounded, but anyways.”

The conversation flowed effortlessly. Occasionally you’d mute yourself, or pull the phone away as members of you family would walk past the kitchen with a curious glance, or blatantly stand in the kitchen and stare at you—Damian—but eventually the kitchen was empty, just in time for the gossip to begin.

“I forgot to mention, you know Caylee?”

“Mhmm.”

“I can’t stand that bitch.”

“Oh.”

You had to pull the phone away a bit, a smile gracing your face as you put it back up to your ear.

“She’s been nagging me all week, I really can’t stand her ass anymore, and you know what else I found out?”

“What?”

“She fucked Kennedy’s ex. What a fucking bitch.”

You heard a familiar gasp on the line, making your brows furrow as you pulled the phone away, only to pull it back to your ear. “Alyssa, I’m gonna let you go.” You hung up before she could respond, slamming the phone back onto the stand. You stood from you spot, wincing as you felt a slight ache in your back. You made your way down to the cave, your arms crossed as you saw the family acting ‘normal’ if you could even consider, Tim and Damian talking ‘normal’.

“Were you guys listening to my phone call?” They each mumbled no’s and answers similar, before you glanced at Dick, who looked guilty. “You guys are pricks.” You groaned out, making your way closer to Dick who held his hands up in surrender. “We couldn’t help it, besides who does that? Shame on Caylee.” You smiled at him, before punching him in the shoulder, glaring at each of the other members. “Stop being nosy jerks.”

Stephanie came up, throwing her arm around your shoulder. “The gossip was juicer this time.” You furrowed your brows, before a gasp fell from your lips. “You people need help, you mean to tell me you listen to my conversations.” Stephanie shook her head, “Not all the time, just once before.” You shook your head with a grimace, glaring once more at everyone. “You guys are sick, I can’t believe we’re related.”

“We can’t help it.”

“Tim I’ll kill you.”

#dc imagine #dc comics #dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #damian wayne x reader #bruce wayne x reader #tim drake x reader

[serendipetite]

Gridlock

genre/warnings: slice of life, famous myg, teacher reader, fluff and angst, spats, min yoongi is a little shit. ft. namjoonie best advice giver. no smut.

author’s note: this is just a little slice of life oneshot, mostly for me to get back into the swing of writing again. it’s been forever, and i’m a little rusty so please forgive me.  

word count: 3287

You couldn’t even remember what the fight had been about initially. Probably something petty, something insignificant. But you were both nothing if not stubborn, so what had probably genuinely started out as a mild spat, had quickly turned into the two of you off pouting in separate areas on the apartment, neither one ready to give just yet. To apologize meant to surrender, and maybe it was a bit toxic, but you just couldn’t give him that satisfaction. Not yet anyway. Let him stew in it, for a bit. It wasn’t like he was hammering down the door to apologize to you either. 

You decided to settle for some self-care. He’d locked himself in his office working, so why not give yourself the evening. You headed to the bathroom, grabbing your softest robe, lit the candles on the counter, poured some lavender and lilac bubbe bath into the tub, and turned on the hot water. Steam filled the bathroom and the smell of fresh cut lavender and lilacs, as well as soft notes of vanilla and musk flooded your senses. You shed your clothes from the day, relieved to wriggle out of your almost-too tight skinny jeans. Kicking them aside, you dipped into the tub, allowing the hot water to hug you and soothe your aching muscles. It’d been a long day, and you’d been on your feet for most of it. The usual lunch monitor had called in sick, and instead of enjoying your chicken salad in the comfort and quiet of the teacher’s lounge, you had to skip your lunch, and the small moment of reprieve off your aching feet to patrol a cafeteria of about two hundred fifth graders. All you’d wanted to do was come home and relax with him after a long day. Life, and the stubborn shit you were head over heels for, happened to have other plans.

The fight.

It was coming back to you now in moments of keys falling to a table, smells of burnt chicken, and the pulsing sound of blood in your ears. It’d started pretty much the moment he’d walked in the door. He’d asked you what was for dinner, as he’d tossed the keys onto the entry way table. You’d just finished trying a new air fryer recipe — an air fryer recipe that had consisted of chicken burnt to a char on the outside, and raw in the middle. You were never going to fucking trust TikTok recipes again after this. You’d been almost in tears as you’d dumped the ruined chicken into the trash and thrown the air fryer basket in the sink. “I don’t want to talk about it,” you’d said. “Okay…” to his credit, he did seem as though he was trying to read the room a bit. “How about I order us a pizza then?” He’d meandered into the kitchen in time to smell the burnt chicken and his face had pulled into a grimace. “Oh yeah, pizza would be much better.” “We shouldn’t have to order a pizza! I should be able to handle making one simple meal for us!” You’d yelled. Okay…so maybe the common thread here was you. You yelling. You being impatient. You thinking what a horrible home-maker you were and how he deserved much more than burnt chicken or pizza after a long day of work. You’d felt like a complete failure. The TikTok girlies could all successfully make delicious meals for their men after a long day. And sure, you knew Yoongi would never expect you to or require you to do so, but you still wanted to. It was an act of love, in your eyes. An act of love you consistently seemed to fail at. Along with the exhaustion from the day, you were emotionally drained. 

“Okay…” Yoongi had said, “Well, I’m just going to go get some more work done. Let me know what you decide.”

You winced, adding more bubble bath to the tub under the running stream, as you remembered the next moments. 

“Oh yeah, go hide in your office, that’s what you always do!”

Jesus….

“Excuse me? What do you want me to do here, Y/N? I offered to order us pizza, you bit my head off. I can’t just conjure up a meal. I’m exhausted. It’s been a long day. Either we’ll order pizza or not. But clearly I’m not being much help standing here right now.”

“Fine, go to your office then.”

“Fine. But at least let me grab a granola bar if dinner is a bust.”

“Are you kidding me right now?”

“What? What do you want me to do here?” Yoongi had grabbed a granola bar out of the wooden salad bowl that served as your snack food bowl. He rolled his eyes pushing past you to head to the bedroom to change out of his clothes from the day. You’d let yourself get more angry and frustrated as you began to clean up the mess from the ruined chicken. That eye roll and shoulder bump had been the tipping point. You’d found yourself slamming cabinet doors and tossing utensils into the sink when Yoongi had reappeared to grab a soda from the fridge. He too slammed the fridge shut and you’d both glowered at each other. “Whatever!” He’d sighed, tossing his hands up and heading to disappear to his office in the back of the apartment. 

That was two hours ago. Neither one of you made a move to apologize. Now, you felt the stress of the day melt off under the aromas of lilac and lavender, and your mind was left clearer and calmer. You had been a bit harsh. He’d started out just trying to be helpful, and then tried to stay out of your way, clearly sensing you were upset. But then to lock himself away in his office for the past two hours when all you needed was him to hold you after a hard day…everything just felt overwhelming. You wanted to apologize, but you didn’t want to give him that satisfaction. And it was clear he wasn’t about to apologize either. For  It felt ridiculous and immature. You were both better than this. You both had a stronger relationship than this. But you also knew you were both stubborn as hell and unless somebody did something, you could see this silent treatment carrying over into the next day and the next. You wondered if the two of you still wouldn’t be speaking when you crawled into bed that night. Knowing him, he’d lock himself in that office way after you’d gone to bed, only joining you after you were gone to the world. This was not the night you’d had in mind when you’d been struggling through the day. The only thing that had helped you hold your sanity when stopping Billy Jacobs from flinging peas at Bobby Deaver, and kept you composed when you had to call Aimee Ashar’s mother about her sixth missed homework assignment was getting to come home to Yoongi. You’d imagined the new chicken dish you’d seen on TikTok the night before, eaten off TV trays with you tucked into Yoongi’s side and an episode of Succession playing on TV. You’d imagined him getting up and doing the dishes, and coming back to kiss away the stress of the day.

Now here you were, alone in your bathtub and pouting, feeling like the character in one of the toxic romance novels you kept by your bedside. They were entertaining, okay! But you knew you were nothing like the couples in those books. You and Yoongi were a united front, open and honest at every turn. There was no huge scandal of cheating or divorce looming above your heads. You respected one another and were committed to one another deeply. But you were also both hopelessly stubborn. You knew the two of you would be fine after awhile, after you both had a good pout about it first. The question was, how long was awhile?

After letting yourself soak a few more minute, you stood up, rinsing your body off with the plastic Rainforest Cafe cup you kept on the side of the tub. Wrapping yourself up in your robe and doing your skincare, you decided it was best to head out. You couldn’t just hide out in the tub forever. You were surprised to see Yoongi on the couch when you came out, glass of Johnnie Walker Blue in his hand, and Succession playing on the TV.

What the hell?

“Do I have any hot water left at all for my shower tonight?” He asked, raising a brow. 

“One cold shower won’t kill you. You started Succession?”

“Yeah, wasn’t sure you wanted it to watch it tonight.”

You knew him well enough to know when he was being a petty little shit. It almost made your lip twitch in a smile. Almost. Had he been this snarky with his best friend Namjoon, you might have even had to hold back a giggle. It was an entirely different story when it was directed at you, however. No matter how endearing your pouty little grump of a boyfriend was. 

“Besides,” Yoongi said, lifting the Johnnie Walker to his lips in a poor attempt to hide his own mildly amused smirk, “Logan gives me enough of a headache.”

Your jaw fell open and you had half a mind to smack him with the pillow he was currently hugging to his chest. 

“Are you kidding me right now?”

“Shh. This is a good part.”

“I can’t believe you!” 

Yoongi ducked his head behind his pillow, and you knew for sure he was hiding a smile. God you were in love with an absolute menace, weren’t you? You huffed, marching back to the en-suite master bedroom and called the one person who knew how to navigate Yoongi even better than yourself.

“What did he do?” Namjoon said before even saying hello.

“What do you mean?” You frowned, hopping up onto your king size bed, you tucked your legs underneath you and settled in for whatever the heck this conversation was going to be.

“Well, I’m assuming you’re calling because you got into a fight, right? I knew he’d left the studio in a mood! We spent all day working on this damn track only to be told we needed to scrap the whole thing and start over. Yoon was livid. So…what did you two fight about?”

Sighing into the phone, you propped yourself up on your pillow and told Namjoon the entire story. “It wasn’t even like we had an actual fight. It was just…like picking at each other. And now he’s out there watching Succession - after off-handedly comparing me to Logan, mind you, and I’m in here - talking to you…”

“You know this whole thing could be solved if you both just talked, right?”

“I am aware of this, yes.”

“But?”

“I don’t know. He’s not making an effort to talk to me, so I feel like why should I bother if he’s not?”

Namjoon sighed into the receiver, “Y/N, you know Yoongi and I have been friends for almost fifteen years now, right? And there isn’t much in this world I won’t do for him. But he’s being stubborn and so are you, and you both just need to get past this weird ‘I’m not apologizing first’ thing and just rip off the band-aid and be done with it. Silent treatments and awkwardly picking and prodding at each other is not the proper and mature way to handle this, and you know that. He does too. He’s just…pouting. He’d kill me if he heard me say that, but that’s what he does. He pouts. And he gets stroppy and throws his version of a tantrum. You have to sometimes be the bigger person. I know there’s days where I just want to throttle him, but I don’t. Instead, I let him have his space for a bit to cool down, and then I go talk to him. Sometimes that means me apologizing. Sometimes that means me calmly calling him out on his shit. And sometimes that means me just pouring us two glasses of whiskey and telling him he’s gotta listen to this song I found. Just talk to him, Y/N. He’s being a pain, but that’s what he wants. And I’m sure that’s what you want too.”

You knew Namjoon was right. He’d been friends with Yoongi longer than you’d known the two of them. Heck, their friendship had gone longer and survived more than many of your past relationships prior. You knew if there was anyone that knew how to navigate Yoongi and his moods, it was Kim Namjoon. 

“Alright. I guess I’ll head back out there and try to make the peace.”

“Good. And if he gets to be too much of a pain, just call me up and I’ll come over and knock some sense into him.”

“You absolutely would 100% never do that.”

Namjoon laughed into the receiver, “You’re right. But the sentiment stands.”

You thanked him, ended the call, and tossed your phone onto the nightstand. Sighing, you stood from the bed, and decided to put your pajamas on first before heading back out to the living room. This was a conversation you might need to be fully clothed for. After changing into your most comfortable pajama bottoms, you grabbed Yoongi’s discarded under shirt from the hamper. He loved you in his clothes, and wearing his shirts at night was one of your favorite bits of your bedtime routine. You loved being encompassed in him in that way, breathing in the aroma of his cologne and something so distinctly Yoongi —  smoke and musk and fresh rain. You tugged his shirt on over your head, and headed out to the living room. 

Yoongi was still on the couch, Succession long over by now, and a baseball game was now playing on the screen. Yoongi was flicking through his phone, not even glancing up at the television. Taking a breath, you walk over to the couch and sat down on your usual seat beside him, tucking your legs to the side, and leaning close, but not touching. Yoongi still hadn’t glanced up from his phone, thumbs lazily flicking over the screen. There were so many things you wanted to say, had prepared to say, but now, sitting her beside him, your mind seemed blank. You wanted to apologize, wanted him to apologize. Wanted to make this whole mess of a night right. 

“Hi,” you say.

The phone is set aside, placed upside down on the arm of the couch. “Hi.” His arm goes to your shoulders, pulling you to his side. You feel your whole body melt against his, the weight of his arm over your shoulders the comfort you’d longed for all day.

“You know what I’ve realized tonight?”

“Hmm?” Yoongi raised a brow, looking down at you curiously.

“We are both too damn stubborn for our own good.”

His head falls back against the back of the couch as he lets out a laugh. “Babe, please tell me you aren’t just now realizing this.”

You swat at his chest, “I’m being serious. You know, I sat in that bathroom forever expecting you to walk in and apologize.”

“Really? I was sitting out here waiting for you to walk out and explain what the hell happened tonight.”

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. What a mess.

“We’re a mess.”

“We are,” Yoongi chuckles before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “So, want to tell me what happened tonight? What’s got my baby so upset?”

You tell him everything. You tell him how stressful your day was, and how all you wanted to do was come home to him and have a romantic night with him. You tell him of the TikTok recipe for the chicken, and how it burnt, and how you felt so incredibly useless. You tell him how you snapped at him, how you took out your anger and frustrations onto him, and when all you wanted him to do was to realize you needed him, he retreated. You tell him of sitting in your bubble bath, realizing how it wasn’t fair of you to lash out at him. You tell him how hurt you were that he didn’t come seeking you out. How hurt you were that he didn’t notice how badly in that moment you needed him. And by the time you’ve finished, he’s held you even tighter in his arms, has pressed more kisses into your hair, each one more relevant than the last. 

“Oh baby…I am so, so sorry. I do that sometimes, retreat when things get messy. I wait for the smoke to clear before I come out and make my peace. I do that with everything. My parents. Namjoon. You. And I need to work on that a bit. We’re a partnership, and you needed me tonight. I shouldn’t have disappeared into the office like I did. I shouldn’t have just thrown my hands up and walked away like I did. I’m sorry your day was so stressful, and I’m sorry it’s taken me until now to hold you in my arms and kiss it away.”

“We need to work on our communication skills. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you.”

Yoongi nods, pulling you closer to his side. “I shouldn’t have been so quick to brush you aside like that. It’s been a hard day for me too, and that’s no excuse.”

“Tell me about work today,” you say. 

And he does. He tells you about the song he and Namjoon poured so much into, only to be told to scrap the whole thing and start over. He tells you about how frustrated he feels and how terrified he is of failing. He tells you everything from his day, just as you’ve told him everything from yours. And by the end of it, you’re both holding onto one another, pressing kisses into each other’s skin. 

“I can’t believe you watched Succession without me.”

“I can rewind it.”

“And that you pretty much compared me to Logan Roy! Asshole!” You dig your fingers into his side, and he jolts with a start, swatting at your hands before you can strike a second time.

“Alright, alright,” he laughs, and you let the sound echo through you, feeling the rumble of it against your body as he reaches around you to grab for the remote, “That was a pretty low blow, huh?”

“ ‘twas.”

“Tell me how to make it up to you,” his bottom lip juts out at you, eyes going full Bambi.

“You can be in charge of dinner.”

Yoongi stands, pressing another kiss to your head before making his way to the kitchen to scrounge something up. As much as he’d never admit it, he’s magic in the kitchen. And after you queue up the episode, you lean back against the couch to watch him putter around the kitchen. He talks to himself as he sets out ingredients and gets to work. This is one of his love languages, preparing a meal for someone he loves. He’s meticulous about it as well, putting such care into every movement. You feel your heart swell as he carefully begins to rinse the vegetables in the sink softly humming one of the songs he’d written you months ago, and before he can even set the veggies on the towel to dry, you’re there, wrapping your arms around his middle.

“I changed my mind,” you say., pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades.  “We’ll make dinner tonight together.”

#bts imagines #yoongi imagines #bts x reader #yoongi x reader #yoongi x y/n #bts fanfic #yoongi imagine #bts imagine #interlude writes

[weirdthoughtsandideas]

If DCLA characters had Tumblr part 3 🕺🏼

🙍🏻‍♂️ my-name-is-tomas follow

🙍🏻‍♂️ my-name-is-tomas follow

Who answered no? 😞

1 note

👩🏻‍🦱 dangerously-beautiful-ant follow

What are your first memories?

I’ll go first: I was 3 and my little sister was just born, and I got to hold her and I asked if she was gonna stay with us forever 🥹☺️

🎤 singing-is-who-i-am follow

I was around 2 and had woken up, and no one was awake so I wandered the house confused over where everyone had gone. Then, I went into the kitchen and there was my mom. She picked me up and hummed a tune and I felt so soothed 💓

🌼 punk-not-dead follow

I was kicked out of daycare at age 3 because I had ”caused too much trouble”. Apparently our teacher had put some matches on the table because they were gonna use them, and we were instructed to NOT touch them. So naturally I did touch them and I lit a curtain on fire. They wanted to excuse this as an accident if it weren’t for the fact that I had been opening the front door and run outside to the parking lot, escaped through a window at naptime, and bit a teacher I hated so hard that she started bleeding. There was also some incidents where I ran with knives or scissors, although no one got hurt, but now they just could not take it anymore.

I just remember waiting in the teacher’s lounge as my mom was inside the principal’s office, and I really needed to pee. And I could have just walked over to the potty standing in the restroom next door but I decided to make my mean teachers suffer, so I put my pants down and peed on their couch. I covered it with a pillow.

A minute later my mom came out and we left. I never returned but those bitches got what they deserved. I wish I could have seen their reactions.

🎀 italys-biggest-bow-collector follow

I don’t even know if I can tell my first memory after whatever I just read?

Respectfully what the heck.

500 notes

🍓 chico-fresa follow

There’s so many people I know irl who has Tumblr. The problem is, I can’t figure out who some of them are. And they won’t say.

🏳️‍🌈 creyendoenmi follow

Way to vaguepost about me in tags, Matteo. Anyway I’ll give you a hint: I barely speak to you.

🍓 chico-fresa follow

… Delfi?

But even Delfi speaks to me a little bit because of interviews so…

🐬 fab-and-chic-delfi follow

It’s not me.

🍓 chico-fresa follow

I WILL figure it out! Just you wait!

🏳️‍🌈 creyendoenmi follow

Good fucking luck snob-dude

8 notes

🎸 beanie-guitarist follow

I love getting to know people on tumblr. You all have such interesting lives. Literally everyone I meet here are like ”oh no my life is so boring” and then they tell me something about it that sounds so interesting!!

💍 queenoftherink follow

As if people you know irl do not have interesting lives.

😎 rapmiro follow

Yeah, like Ramiro! You know him! I make your life interesting by spreading my interesting life!

10 notes

🎹 moondust-og follow

Uploaded a new video at my channel with a brand new piano cover! Link in the pinned post 🎵

👨‍🍳 kunsts-best-chef follow

Everyone check out my roomate’s work!!!!

💃🏼 daisydances follow

^^^^^^^ !!!!!!!

4 notes

🌟 supernova-number-one follow

Fun fact, I’m a brunette but my mom from an early age thought I would have looked better blonde and she encouraged me to dye it… this is the first year since I was like 7 that I actually have my natural hair color again.

💍 queenoftherink follow

Oh, reminds me of how my ”mom” liked to put my hair in the same hairstyle as her, I legit looked like a mini her for so long… I’m blonde, though my natural hair color is darker blonde, and she did also encourage me to dye it to platinum blonde.

🌟 supernova-number-one follow

May I ask why you write mom in quotations?

💍 queenoftherink follow

Long story short, I’m adopted by her but due to some safety bullshit or whatever she didn’t want people to know that, because she has a lot of power and if people knew she had a daughter that could have lead to danger for me. So, I have always referred to her as my godmother. Some of our staff probably still believes I’m actually her goddaughter lol.

🏳️‍🌈 creyendoenmi follow

Now why were you ok with answering when she asked but when I asked you just called me a ”dear lesbian on the internet”?

💍 queenoftherink follow

Now is not the time, dear lesbian on the internet.

🏳️‍🌈 creyendoenmi follow

I hope you know that I know you irl

💍 queenoftherink follow

But on the internet you’re a dear lesbian.

#i know you like it #your bio title is literally ’dear lesbian on the internet’ you love that title #you’re welcome for giving it to you

13 notes

🛼 rollerskatingonthemoon follow

My cousin’s friend offered me some strange gummy bears 🤣 And now I feel really loopy.

💍 queenoftherink follow

@not-homophobic-goth-girl EMILIA WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU GIVE HER

💄 not-homophobic-goth-girl follow

Just some gummy bears?

💍 queenoftherink follow

She’s literally declaring a cheese slicer a god Emilia wtffff!!!!

💄 not-homophobic-goth-girl follow

That just sounds like common Luna behavior to me.

Also what’s a cheese slicer?

🛼 rollerskatingonthemoon follow

Wait how do you not know what a cheese slicer is?

💄 not-homophobic-goth-girl follow

GOD DAMMIT LUNA you ruined the prank!!

💍 queenoftherink follow

Wait this was a prank???

🛼 rollerskatingonthemoon follow

Yeah, I had to ruin the prank because I am genuinely confused - do you not know what a cheese slicer is?

Ámbar we decided to prank you that I had gotten high because Emilia said ”it would be priceless”. She actually just gave me regular gummy bears.

💄 not-homophobic-goth-girl follow

Wtf is a cheese slicer I never seen that in my life

💍 queenoftherink follow

Gotta admit good prank… i’m giving you credit I fell for it.

But now I’m also wondering how you do not know what a cheese slicer is.

💄 not-homophobic-goth-girl follow

I don’t eat a lot of cheese?

💍 queenoftherink follow

NEITHER DO I but I fucking know what it is???

42 notes

📝 angiesthoughts follow

I remember when my niece was a baby and I had a terrible day at school before coming over to visit, and my sister was busy in the kitchen and I just… vented to my niece as she laid on her playpen. And since that day, I for whatever reason felt like she was the best listener to my troubles. It was perfect, I could talk out about my problems and she just listened. Then I could cuddle with her to feel better. I used to offer to change her diapers just so we could be alone for a moment and I could just… vent.

Now she’s all grown up and I’m listening to all of her vents and bringing comfort and cuddles 💓 I guess I returned the favor.

🎤 singing-is-who-i-am follow

Well I guess this is one way to find out my aunt has Tumblr?

#angie please block the hashtag ’vilu gets real’ I have sworn to never let any family members see that #not even my cool aunt sorry

6 notes

✌🏼 arodarmivida follow

Watching Rise of the pink ladies and why is my girlfriend literally Nancy?

My girlfriend WOULD sing ”A world without boys” and Brutal Honesty is literally her guardian angel about her. Also Nancy sews clothes just like my girl 💛💛

🍓 chico-fresa follow

Wait I figured it out! You’re Jim! Figured out one person on Tumblr I know irl…

I didn’t know you had a girlfriend! Thought you were straight honestly. Who’s your girlfriend? Wait don’t tell I wanna figure it out 🤔

✌🏼 arodarmivida follow

Get the fuck out of this post if you’re not gonna discuss rise of the pink ladies this post was only for that show and also so that my girlfriend specifically would reply. And she probably will reply in DMs now to make it harder for you.

#you’re on thin ice just for saying that you thought I was straight hope you know that

3 notes

🌼 punk-not-dead follow

It’s so funny because you may be close to most of your friends but there are some that knows more about your life than others.

I have some friends who know every single crazy thing I’ve done and then I have some friends who actually percieves me as ”chill” and does not even know about my boyfriend material scrapbook.

🛼 rollerskatingonthemoon follow

This. I love and cherish all of my friends but I don’t think some of them are aware of when I went to learn more about my past and had to dress up in a disguise to not be recognized at a nursing home, nor am I sure if they know all the drama that happened in the house I live in.

✌🏼 arodarmivida follow

Tell me why you never told me that you dressed up in a disguise to go to a nursing home?? That sounds hilarious I would have wanted to come along

#also op tell us about your boyfriend material scrapbook

7 notes

#fun fact ’snob-dude’ was a real translation of chico fresa the swedish dub did #violetta #soy luna #disney bia #if dcla characters had tumblr

[bruhstories]

Sticky, Saccharine & Sinful

Summary: Professor Jaeger asks his assistant to come over and grade some papers. Pairing: Zeke Jaeger x Fem!Reader (modern AU) Warnings & Content: language, protected sex, fingering, oral sex (female & male receiving), spanking, daddy kink, bossy Zeke, bratty Reader, tying up, bit of an age gap but no underage shit (we don’t do that here) Word Count: 2.5 k

A/N: Huehuehue guess who finally wrote a daddy kink smut? Also I have looped Cherry Cola by Kuwada the entire time i wrote, proofread and formatted this bitch, I think it works with the atmosphere

"Y/N, I'm gonna need you to help me grade some papers later today." Professor Jaeger pushed his glasses with his index finger as he looked up from his book.

"You got it, boss!" You nodded as you entered the staff lounge room at Stohess Uni, two cups in your hands.

"How many times do I have to tell you to call me Zeke?" The man sighed. “Or at least call me professor.”

"But I'm your assistant, you're my superior, that makes you my boss, boss." Sarcasm dripping down your tongue as you placed his coffee down the table. "All black, two cubes of sugar."

"Thank you. And yes, technically I am your boss, but you're, what, six years younger than me?"

"Seven and a half." You pouted.

You've been working at Stohess University for a little over a year now as Zeke Jaeger's assistant. He was the best philosophy teacher, as well as head of the department, and you nailed your internship interview, aspiring to be like him one day. He even taught you Ethics during your masters, and currently you were doing your PhD research under his coordination. The man was a genius in his field, and you didn't dare disappoint him, but your personalities always clashed. He was calm and collected, you were bubbly and all over the place. He was nice and polite, you were sarcastic and rude. Zeke knew you'd make a horrible teacher for children, but undergraduate students would adore you.

"How can you drink hot coffee in this heat wave?" You asked him as you fanned someone's epistemology essay to cool yourself off.

"It's actually been proven that warm drinks hydrate better than cold ones during summertime." He inhaled the scent of freshly brewed coffee before taking the essay out of your hand.

"Whatever you say, boss." You shrugged and gulped on your iced tea, a few glistening amber drops dripping from the corners of your mouth, down your chin and your neck. "Ah, shit." You wiped the tea with the back of your hand, not catching Zeke watching you curiously. "Why did the AC have to break down today of all days?"

"Dunno." He shrugged and immersed himself back into his book. "Oh, I hope you don't mind coming to my place to grade the papers? I don't think you'll be able to focus in this heat. Besides, I want to take a look at your latest PhD chapter." Jaeger told you absentmindedly, eyes glued to the pages in front of him.

"Sure thing–"

"Don't say it."

"Boss."

"Jesus Christ..."

You adored pissing your ex-professor off, but deep down, Zeke couldn't deny the fact that he loved the authority he had over you. You were a very alluring woman, after all, and any sane man would kill to be as close to you as he was, let alone boss you around like he did. And he had the strong feeling you acted like a brat around him on purpose. You took your leave after downing the rest of your beverage, going to the library to borrow some books for your own research.

•°☆°•☆•°☆°•

You rang the intercom and waited for Zeke to let you inside the building, dragging your feet down the hallway, tired from carrying so much shit with you – laptop, books, essays, papers, pens and highlighters – you were a walking, talking stationery shop and one could only wonder how someone with such a petite frame was so strong. Zeke waited in the doorway and took some of your things, relieving the weight as you sighed.

"Coffee?" He guided you to his kitchen.

"Water, please." You plopped on a chair and unbuttoned the first three heart-shaped buttons of your lilac shirt, tiny beads of sweat bundled up at your collarbone.

"You sure? I'll be keeping you up all night." Jaeger laughed. He was obviously talking about the papers, but to you, the sentence had a different innuendo — not that you minded, you had your fair share of sinful fantasies with the older man. Come to think of it, you were wondering why he was single. Zeke was undoubtedly an attractive man, he could have any woman he wanted. Yet you’ve never seen him on a date, never seen a picture of a woman when you accidentally glanced at his phone, never heard him talk about a significant other.

"Hey, mind if I smoke?" You asked, noticing the ashtray on his table.

"Not at all, I'll join you." He sat opposite you, mug of coffee in his hand. You pulled out a pack of pink cigarettes from your backpack and placed one between your lips, pocketing your jeans for a lighter. His hand extended over the table, lighter in his hand, and you slightly bent your head forward, eyes glued to his. You inhaled the smoke, not breaking eye contact, and exhaled with a sigh. Something about Zeke lighting up your cigarette made your little cunt tingle.

"Thanks, boss." The corners of your lips turned into a barely visible smirk. You really, really liked to tick him off.

"Don't mention it." He told you before lighting his own cigarette. What, no comeback? No objection? "How's your paper going?"

"It's... going." You shrugged.

"You haven't written anything in your last chapter, have you?"

"No, I have," you half-whined, "it's just that I can't find my words. I think I encountered writer's block."

"'S alright, we'll figure something out." Zeke pulled a stack of papers from his briefcase and dropped it on the table.

"Wow, no shit you need help, that's a lot of papers." You twirled the cigarette between your fingers before taking one final puff and crushing it in the glass ashtray.

"Told you." He picked his resting cigarette back from the ashtray. "You can do the first years."

"I'd rather do something else." You whispered to yourself, eyes almost rolling at the back of your head.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, boss. First years, got it." Your manicured fingers pulled the stack of papers closer to you. The exams were already annotated according to subject and year and you took everything you needed before shoving them back to Zeke.

•°☆°•☆•°☆°•

You were bored out of your mind, fiddling with the red pen in your hand and tapping your fingers on the table with no particular rhythm. It was already dark outside and you barely finished a quarter of your stack while Zeke was halfway through his.

"Could you please stop that?" He asked you without even bothering to look at you.

"Why?"

"It's annoying."

With a groan you rolled your eyes and stopped tapping your fingers, instead opting to fidget your leg, bouncing it up and down under the table. The wooden furniture shook at the movement and Zeke sighed, putting the pen down.

"I understand you're bored, but if you want to be a professor, this is part of the job description."

"I know, I know, but, like, can we take a break? Please? We've been at it for two and a half hours now and I'm just so bored." You looked at him with puppy eyes and a pout on your plump lips.

"Ugh, fine. What do you want to do?"

"I dunno. Got any board games?"

"Only a pack of playing cards." Zeke shrugged.

"Perfect! Literally anything is better than this. I mean look at what this kid wrote: the ship of Theseus ARE a thought experiment. Can you believe it? How can a nineteen-year-old not know proper grammar?"

"Careful, Y/N," he chuckled, "you made a pretty embarrassing error during your masters, too."

"Nooo, don't bring that up!" You got up and walked to the freezer, scanning the contents.

"Why not? It's funny."

"Yeah, for you." You rolled your eyes. "But I still proved my worth." You triumphantly told him, tongue playfully poking out of your mouth from behind the freezer door. Ugh, you were so cute, made to be ravaged. Your eyes settled on the single raspberry popsicle and you picked it up, closing back the door. "Can I have this?" Oh, he knew exactly what you were doing.

"Of course."

With Zeke's approval, you unwrapped the plastic, revealing the rose-tinted dessert, swirling your tongue around its tip. You were a sight for sore eyes, (not so) innocently licking at the popsicle, your gaze on him and his growing bulge. He didn't even bother hiding it, instead relaxing in the chair and drinking you in. It was no mistake that Zeke invited you over, and you weren't stupid enough to believe it was a mistake.

"Do you... want some?" You trailed off as the once cold dessert began melting from your hot lips.

"If you'd be so kind." He patted his lap and you accepted the invitation. His bulge was comfortably uncomfortable against your ass, and you put the popsicle onto his lips, one arm draped around his shoulder. Zeke's tongue moved languidly around the sweet snack and you leaned in, your own tongue licking both the dessert and his lips. It was sticky and saccharine and sinful, and your poor pussy couldn't take it anymore.

"Do you wanna fuck me, daddy?" You naively asked him. He wasn't surprised in the slightest by the name, already suspecting you had daddy issues, in fact counting on it.

"I very much do." His hands were already roaming your body. The popsicle was almost gone, and you deepthroated the last bit, taking the little stick out of your mouth with a pop. Finally, he crushed his lips onto yours and you could tell he had experience. You dropped the stick on the tiled floor, twisting your body to better straddle him. Zeke unbuttoned your shirt as you slowly began grinding your hips against his bulge, earning a groan from him. "Ugh, you bad girl." He threw his head back as you loosened the tie around his neck.

"Are you going to punish me?" You slowly, too slowly unbuttoned his shirt.

"What’s the point of a punishment if you’re going to enjoy it?" He mused, unclasping your bra. You had goosebumps all over your skin and Zeke took one of your nipples in his hot mouth, a hand pinching your other one. You whimpered at the slight stinging sensation

"Does it m-matter if I enjoy it?" His touch became rougher, almost animalistic.

"Of course," he stopped sucking your swollen, oversensitive nipple, "otherwise you won't learn your lesson." You got up and turned around, your back against him, taking your jeans and underwear off, bending down and exposing your cunt to him. "You're going to be the death of me, Y/N." Zeke shook his head, removing his own trousers.

"Allow me." You tucked your fingers behind the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down as you kneeled in front of him. His throbbing cock tapped your face after finally being unleashed from its textile cage.

"I suspected you were big, but this? This is too good." You sneered at his member, mesmerised by its size.

"Just shut up and suck it." Zeke pretty much commanded you and you wet your lips, pressing your tongue against the velvety tip. You worked your way around his shaft, enjoying this more than you should've. You pulled back, a string of saliva and precum attached to your lips as you looked up at him.

"Am I doing good, daddy?"

"So good." He grabbed a fistful of your hair and pushed your head back. You eagerly sucked and slurped until he got bored of your mouth around his cock. Zeke pulled you up, spun you around and bent you over the table. He brought your wrists together and tied them up behind your back with his tie before taking a step back and admiring the view. Ass up, face down, just like he loved it. His foot pushed yours to the side, spreading your legs for him before he gave you a good slap over your ass cheeks. You shot up with a moan but his hand forced you back down against the table.

"I think I know exactly how to punish you." Zeke announced, two fingers spreading your folds as his tongue dove inside of you, lapping at your wet cunt.

"Oh, God!" You groaned in pleasure. No man has ever eaten you out like he did. Most guys did it as a chore. Zeke? He was enjoying every single bit of it, passionately fingering you, his tongue moving in ways you didn't think were possible. "Ah, fuck– so good! Daddy, please! I'm coming!"

The way he venomously laughed told you that no, you were not going to come any time soon. Just as you were about to let loose, Zeke stopped, removing his fingers, another slap on your ass. Tears pooled at your Y/E/C eyes, frustration written all over your face. "No, no, no!"

"I told you, Y/N, you're a bad, bad girl." He bent over and whispered in your ear, his cock pressing against your entrance, his hand in your hair.

"Oh, pleaseee, I need to come! Will you let me come?"

"Hm, it depends." Jaeger straightened his back, hands resting on your hips. "Did you learn your lesson?"

"Yes, yes, daddy, I did! I promise I'll be good!" You tried to turn around to look at him, oblivious to what he was doing behind your back, cheeks crimson, droplets of sweat on your forehead.

"Convincing enough." He shrugged and you heard the condom snap against his cock.  Unexpectedly and without any warning, the man thrusted into your wet cunt and you, again, shot up, but he pinned you back. "Stay fucking put, you little whore." Zeke demanded and you tried, you really tried, but your body had a mind of its own. "I see you refuse to learn."

"No, no, please!" You slammed your face onto the table, squishing your cheek in the process, desperate and helpless.

"That's better." He concluded, sarcasm dripping down his tongue as he rammed his cock deeper into you. The silken walls clenched around his hard member, and he grunted, no other woman pleasing him like your tight pussy did. "You like it when I take you from behind, you filthy slut?"

"Yes– oh my God, YES!" You bucked your hips against his for more pressure and pain.

"What would my students think if they saw you getting fucked like this on their papers?"

"Ah– I don't c-care!"

"What would the headmaster say if she knew you fuck your superior and- ugh- coordinator?" Jaeger thrusted harder and faster.

"Please, Zeke-"

His hand found its way to your neck, tightly squeezing it.

"Wrong name, Y/N."

"Shit, daddy!"

"That's right, I'm your fucking daddy and hell will freeze before someone else fucking touches you!"

"Fuc-k, fuuuck!" You both howled and panted as you climaxed, your entire bodies quivering. Zeke pulled out of you, carefully removing the rubber from his cock and giving you another slap on your perky ass cheeks. You stood up, arms still tied around your back, turned on your heels and pecked him on his cheek, giggling like a schoolgirl, marvelled by the fact that he chose you over anyone else.

"You know what, Y/N? Now that I've found you, I'm never going to let you go." He promised.

"I'm all yours, boss."

#zeke jaeger #zeke jaeger x reader #zeke x reader #zeke smut #aot #aot smut #aot x reader #aot fanfic #snk #snk smut #snk x reader #snk fanfic #attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin #zekeythefreaky

[queenshelby]

The Last Semester – Part 25

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Words: 3,205

Warning: Angst, Smut

Whilst you had expected to meet Cillian’s children two weeks ago, just following your miscarriage, it never happened as, once again, Nadine withheld contact until Cillian’s son Charlie ran into trouble at school and the director called Cillian after he got nowhere with Nadine.

This all happened after Nadine went to the press about her relationship with Cillian, telling them lies and alleging an affair between him and their babysitter many years ago, causing their divorce.

In an attempt to prevent Nadine from sending in the alleged tape, Cillian didn’t comment on the rumours when asked by the reporter. The last thing he wanted was to draw this out and have his children exposed to such content on the internet.

During a parent teacher meeting requested by the director, the director advised Cillian that Charlie in particular wasn’t coping with current arrangements between him and Nadine and, according to him, he had requested on many occasions to live with his father.

He had access to media, the internet and a phone which made him more susceptible and aware of the situation and every article that had been published about Cillian had Nadine’s name on it.

The school director was far from impressed and Cillian confirmed that he was dealing with the situation through his lawyer.

Just as he did, Nadine finally agreed for his sons to stay with Cillian for a week after Charlie had been caught with an illicit substance at school just the day after Cillian’s meeting with the school director.

This was too much for her to deal with on her own especially since, according to her, Charlie refused to speak to her after he read an article about his father in a gossip magazine for which she was to blame.

***

‘Here is his phone. He is grounded. You can deal with it. They both need to be picked up at 4 o’clock as they have theatre practice’ Nadine growled as she barged into Cillian’s house and gave you a stern look.

Angrily, she dropped the boys’ bags onto the floor before looking at you again.

‘She better be gone when you pick up the boys’ Nadine then said, causing Cillian to sigh.

‘No, she will be here. It is time for the boys to meet her’ Cillian then said before showing Nadine the door.

‘You think this is a good idea after what Charlie has been through?’ Nadine growled.

‘After what you put him through? Well, I don’t know Nadine, you tell me because, surely, you could have expected that your little stunt would backfire on you and affect the boys’ Cillian said angrily and frustrated with Nadine’s actions.

‘If their welfare was so important to you, perhaps you would still be married to me, their mother, instead of fucking this slut’ Nadine then said somewhat upset.

‘You need to leave now Nadine, before I say something that I might regret’ Cillian growled angrily, biting his tongue as, knowing her, she might be sneaky enough to record their conversation.

‘I was about to’ she then said, walking towards the door.

‘I don’t understand why you would do this and why we cannot deal with each other like civilized adults for the sake of the boys’ Cillian then said just as she left.

***

Later that evening, when Cillian arrived at home with the boys, you greeted them in the kitchen where you had prepared dinner.

Charlie and Hendrix were quick to introduce themselves to you.

‘Want some help, I am good at this shit’ Charlie said as he enjoyed to cook.

‘Language!’ Cillian quickly shouted out, causing Charlie to apologise to you before walking over towards the fridge and grabbing himself a soft drink.

Cillian watched him closely and raised his eyebrow.

‘Fine, I put it back’ Charlie huffed out, knowing that Cillian was limiting their intake of sugary drinks. ‘Can I have my phone back though? I am seeing this girl and can’t text her now’ he was quick to ask and Cillian pulled him aside for a talk while you entertained his younger brother Hendrix with some talk about his favourite football team.

About ten minutes later, both Cillian and Charlie returned to the kitchen and Charlie seemed glad that Cillian returned his phone to him.

Without paying attention to anything else, Charlie sat at the kitchen table, typing away and surfing the internet. The phone made several strange sounds and noises and Charlie was laughing, obviously catching up with his friends.

‘What are you doing?’ Cillian chuckled, amused by Charlie’s facial expressions as he typed and typed and typed.

‘Snap Chat…and apparently there is this new thing on Tik Tok everyone is watching’ Charlie said as he continued on talking to his father about it but losing him halfway through.

‘What Chat?’ Cillian asked, causing you to laugh.

‘Snap Chat’ you said.

‘What is a Snap Chat?’ Cillian asked confused, causing his son to shake his head in disbelieve.

‘Oh, common dad…you know what Tik Tok is though, right?’ Charlie chuckled.

‘Of course’ Cillian said proudly and you were somewhat surprised.

‘You do?’ you giggled, teasing Cillian.

‘No…I have no idea’ he laughed, which is when Charlie and you took the time to explain it to him.

‘I am on Instagram now though’ Cillian then said proudly after he learned about Snap Chat and Tik Tok, causing your eyes to widen and look at your boyfriend with surprise.

‘Congratulations dad, you are just about ten years too late’ Charlie laughed and you asked Cillian to show him his Instagram account.

‘Uhm, that’s great babe’ you giggled as you observed that he followed one person and that was you. He had no profile picture, no description, no photos and no followers.

‘What I don’t understand is that I thought I would get a lot of follow requests, being an actor and all. But apparently not’ Cillian said somewhat disappointed.

‘Well, a profile picture and verifying your account might help with that’ you giggled as you logged on to Instagram on your phone and sent him a follow request and Charlie did the same.

***

Charlie and Hendrix both enjoyed the dinner you cooked and, after you all cleaned up, you sat down together and watched a movie.

You knew that, realistically, you were too young to ever be a mother figure to them. They have a mother and certainly don’t need another one. Nonetheless, you tried your best to get to know them and, after spending several hours with them, you were surprised by just how much they were like Cillian.

Even more so, you were impressed by how Cillian interacted with them, caring for them and listening to them. They clearly looked up to him and he was a fantastic and caring father.

Everything went smoothly and the boys seemed to like you and interact with you as they would with their father’s friends. They respected you but yet they tried to relate to you as you were much younger than their father.

But then, during the movie, an uncomfortable topic came up.

‘Dad, it’s not true right? With Laura?’ Hendrix then asked.

‘Of course it’s not true, dummie. Mum made it up’ Charlie was quick to say, causing Cillian to interfere.

‘No name calling Charlie’ Cillian said firmly before explaining to them both that it was not true. There was not much else he could tell them.

‘Why can’t we just live here with you? I am really sick of this dad. She is constantly saying crap about you’ Charlie huffed out and Cillian reminded him that it doesn’t work like that, causing Charlie to storm off into his room.

Cillian eventually followed him after ensuring that Hendrix was alright and it took him about twenty minutes to make an appearance again.

Eventually, at around 10 o’clock, the boys were getting ready for bed after Cillian nagged them several times to go and have a shower and brush their teeth.

He reminded them that, tomorrow, he would take them to the mall and for lunch which was something they enjoyed and they needed to be rested for it and not stay up and play games.

‘We are leaving at 9 o’clock so don’t stay up, eh’ Cillian said in a deep voice, reminding you of his role in Peaky Blinders.

***

At last, you were alone and it didn’t take you long to seek some intimacy. After all, the two weeks wait was up today and you were very needy.

‘We should really take this to the bedroom in case one of the boys walks in on us’ you giggled as Cillian was teasing you, touching your breasts and nibbling on your neck as you were both curled up on the lounge.

‘Good idea’ Cillian said and, just after he did, he scooped you up into his arms, eliciting a squeal of surprise from you as he propped you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist.

‘Eager are we Mr Murphy?’ you chuckled as he carried you to his bedroom.

‘It’s been two weeks, how could I not be’ Cillian chuckled as he placed you onto the bed and closed the door behind him.

When he returned to the bed, you had already gotten rid of your t-shirt and shorts and Cillian reached behind your back to undo the clasp on your bra after taking off his own t-shirt. At the same time, you undid the button and zipper on his jeans. As they fell from his hips, showing off his manhood, he pulled the bra straps from around your arms, revealing your smooth breasts.

‘Where are your briefs sir?’ you giggled as you noticed that Cillian wasn’t wearing any underwear.

‘I forgot’ he winked and, without losing any time, you pushed him beneath you and took his growing member into your mouth gently before running the length of your tongue over his shaft.

‘Fuck you are so good at this’ Cillian growled as he relaxed into the pillows and you licked up the length of his member from the base to the tip.

‘Am I?’ you smirked as you slowly started to bob your head, causing Cillian to groan.

‘Turn around and let me taste you while you continue’ Cillian then instructed and, you quickly pushed off your panties before complying with his request and swinging one of your legs over his face before dropping your head back down to pleasure Cillian with your tongue.

Cillian was quick to pull your already wet mound onto his lips, causing you to moan loudly against his cock.

In order to stay quiet, you took as much of his length into your mouth as possible. This way, his cock was almost acting like a gag.

At the same time, Cillian’s tongue had found your clit, circling it gently while he pressed your crotch down against your mouth, not allowing you to wiggle away.

‘Oh god’ you moaned against his cock as you sucked and licked it while, occasionally, taking it in all the way while Cillian began at the bottom point of your mound once again, the tip of his tongue leaving a trail as he licked up the dripping fluids that you secreted, going from the meeting point of your folds to the opening.

As he dipped his tongue inside, he felt your body tighten up as you sharply inhaled around his cock. He pulled out with a kiss to your lips, and continued upwards, enveloping your hood again with the entirety of his tongue before rubbing its flat surface sideways against your round tip.

You squealed again over his cock, bobbing your head up and down his long shaft as you did until, suddenly, he took it too far. He drew the tip of his tongue around your clit, diving his entire mouth around it before sliding two fingers into your steaming opening.

‘Oh god, Cillian’ you moaned after shooting up from his, tightening your thighs around Cillian's head.

‘Keep my cock in your mouth, that should keep you quiet’ Cillian instructed as he groaned and began to increase the speed at which his fingers entered your body.

Within time, the long strokes had turned into short upwards strokes as he touched your spot over and over, simultaneously assaulting your hood with his tongue, matching the speed of both to your ever-quickening heartbeat.

‘I can’t, fuck, oh god’ you moaned loudly and, just as you did, Cillian pushed you off and beneath him.

‘Cillian’ you pouted, causing Cillian to grin and kiss you passionately before sinking his fingers back into your aching wet pussy.  

‘Ohhhh god’ you cried out. ‘Oh shit... Cillian, I'm gonna...’ you moaned a little too loudly and, as he continued to fuck you with his fingers, Cillian covered your mouth with his hand to keep you from screaming out.

Cillian began to feel your muscles tighten around his fingers, and sped up, while sucking on your neck until, finally, a high scream came out of your mouth.

By this point, Cillian was grateful that his sons usually slept well and deep as his palm could not quieten you down significantly when you orgasmed.

As usual, when Cillian made you cum by massaging your g-spot, a good amount of fluid spurted out of you and onto the towel beneath you.  

Your body shuddered, tiny squeals coming every few seconds until, finally, Cillian removed his hand from your mouth. ‘Stop...’ you breathed out. ‘Oh god...’ you huffed.

‘So sensitive’ Cillian chuckled, teasing you with light kisses against the soaked flesh between your thighs before pulling the towel away from beneath you and throwing it into the laundry basked near the dresser.  

‘Yes’ you laughed, stroking Cillian’s hair just before he got up from his knees, kissing his way up your body, stopping just short of your lips before kissing you passionately.

You wrapped your arms under his and around his back while Cillian pushed you further back on the bed, climbing up onto his knees and lowering himself so he was almost level with you as you raised your pelvis into the air.

You reached down and gripped his manhood, gently stroking it before lowering it to align with your opening, grinding your drenched lips against his head. When he slid inside, you gasped, squealing as he gently allowed all of his length to enter you.

‘Oh god yes, fuck, I missed this’ you moaned as Cillian ground his hips in a circle before drawing back, delicately stroking in and out as you put one hand on his hip and the other on his chest, digging in and drawing your nails downwards, leaving red lines down his body. He smiled and kissed you, increasing the speed of his advance and thrusting upwards before pulling back, repeating the motion as his kisses stifled your moans.

‘I miss this too…you feel so fucking good’ Cillian groaned as you returned the favor, grinding your hips as he spread you open. You moved your hands to his back, scratching his back as he pulled his face away from you. You bit your bottom lip in an effort to stifle your moans which was a futile effort. Within seconds your lips spread open and you resumed the sounds that brought Cillian to the brink of orgasm as your own high hit you almost unexpectedly and hard.

‘Oh god yes, fuck Cillian’ you moaned as your orgasm washed over you and your legs began to quiver around him.

Cillian pulled his body up off of yours, positioning himself upright and sliding his knees forward. He grabbed your hands in the air, pushing forwards as you pushed against him, using the leverage to slam his erection into you, the sound of his ball slapping underneath drowned out by the lusty groans forcing themselves out from your throat.

Finally, between the warmth and moistness of your passage, the squeals, groans, and moans working their way through your mouth, and the pain from your nails on his back, Cillian couldn't take anymore.

‘Fuck, Y/N’ Cillian groaned as he withdrew from your opening, laying the weight of his member against your mound and you immediately gripped his cock with both hands, stroking almost as fast as he had been thrusting. It wasn't long before the orgasm ripped through his body, his sticky liquid spurting out in a strong burst across your stomach, up to just below your breasts.

He leaned down, kissing you as your body heaved in an effort to catch your breath. He remained stiff, however, and you slid him back inside of you, kissing him as he gently thrust until, finally, he was too flaccid to continue.

‘Y/N, fuck, I don’t think you should have…’ Cillian groaned, knowing that this entirely defeated the purpose of him pulling out. But, before he could finish his sentence, you pulled his mouth onto yours before pushing him beneath you.

‘Hmm’ you moaned while you began to slide up and down on his hard cock. His semen, which coated your stomach and breasts, glistened in the light from the bedside lamp and you placed a finger just above your mound as you rode him, slowly drawing upwards, catching the fluids that began to slowly slide down your body.

When you got the last of it, you placed your finger into your mouth, slowly drawing it out, sucking every drop of it before swallowing it.

‘Jesus Y/N, fuck’ Cillian groaned as he watched you lick his cum of your fingers.

‘I love tasting your cum’ you said seductively as you increased the speed of your movements until, after not too long, your third orgasm hit you and you moaned uncontrollably, causing Cillian to cover your mouth with his hand once again.

Once you came down from your high, you slid off Cillian and quickly disappeared with your head in between his legs.

‘I know there is more for me’ you smirked as you took his length into your mouth and began to suck him.

And, sure enough, there was. After less than ten minutes, you sent Cillian over the edge once again.

‘Fuck’ he groaned as he filled your mouth with rope after rope of his warm and sweet cum and, again, you didn’t waste a single drop, swallowing all of it.

***

The following morning, you woke up to the smell of pancakes and, when you walked into the kitchen, Cillian was preparing breakfast while Hendrix waited hungrily at the kitchen table.

‘Coffee?’ Cillian asked and you yawned and nodded all at the same time.

‘Thank you’ you said as you sat down next to Hendrix, wondering where Charlie was.

Eventually, Charlie also joined you in the kitchen, yawning and asking for a coffee as well.

‘I told you not to stay up gaming, eh?’ Cillian chuckled.

‘I didn’t…I just couldn’t sleep’ Charlie then said as he sat down at the table while Cillian was serving up some pancakes.

‘Why is that?’ Cillian asked.

‘Because you guys are bloody noisy’ Charlie chuckled, shaking his head in disgust and causing you to choke on some of your coffee.

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#cillian murphy #Cillian Murphy x Reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy imagine

[angryschnauzer]

Imagine you're Henry's neighbour, you've heard his conquests, have to admit you're a little jealous as they all sound happy. But it make you wonder if they are faking it.

You chat to friend on the phone whilst in the garden, not realising he can hear you.

The knock on your door later that evening was unexpected but when you see your hot neighbour there you have no idea why.

Until he offers to show you just why those other women were so happy

Okay so i decided to continue my PE Teacher Henry series with this one, previous parts below:

Thigh Riding,  Jingle My Bells , An Epic Quickie

Warnings: Fluff, a little bit of Angst, talk of breakups, young idiots in love.

The Boy Next Door

The sun was shining and the sounds of late summer could be heard as the four of you settled on dining chairs that had been pulled out onto the ramshackle patio so you could celebrate moving into the shared house for your last year of Uni and doing Post-Graduate for teaching. Opening a chilled bottle of Echo Falls Rose Zinfandel, Marie sloshed it into the four waiting glasses, handing on to each of you;

“Here’s to just one more year of Uni, then we can be set free onto the world of teaching education rather than being taught!”

The four of you had all done your degree’s together, and by the end of your 3rd year you had moved into a shared house to save on halls of residence costs. When you’d all decided to attend the same Uni for your Post Graduates qualification it was the easy choice to decide to rent together, and you’d manage to snag a gorgeous multi level Victorian town house to rent for the year. The landlord had admitted a few things needed to be updated, but it was a short walk from campus so in exchange for a reduction in rent you’d found the perfect place. 

By the time the 3rd bottle of Zinfandel was opened you were all pleasantly merry, and from the advantage point of the raised patio where the garden dipped away as it went downhill you could see the road that ran alongside the house next door that yours was connected to. The corner house had looked a lot more appealing, but the rent had been considerably higher, so the compromise was that you’d rented the one away from the street corner. Just at that moment another Removals Truck pulled up alongside the corner house, and you could hear various cars park behind it, the sound of young male voices easily heard. It was obvious you had a group of male students living next door.

-

Three weeks into term and you were sat at the desk in your room, glaring at the wall in front of you. No matter how hard you tried to concentrate on how to teach fronted adverbials, the screams of the woman obviously on the verge on an orgasm from the guys house next door just reminded you of your lack of love life. With a sigh you set your pencil down and headed downstairs, away from the obvious now orgasming woman.

“Oh hey Hunny, thought you were catching up on some English Lit stuff?” Marie smiled as she poked at an egg she was attempting to fry on the small electric cooker.

“I was… until there was another screamer next door”

“Oh… another one?” she winced, knowing that from the 2nd day the guys next door had moved in, the one that was in the room next to you had been able to bed a different girl about every three nights or so.

You grabbed a glass of water and stepped outside, letting the sunshine warm your face. Opening your Motorolla Flip Phone you scrolled through your texts, smiling as you saw messages from last years classmates, checking in on how everyone was doing. You were vaguely aware of Marie coming outside, setting a plate down on the patio wall and the click of her lighter as she lit a Royals cigarette.

“You still miss him, don’t you?” she asked.

Pulling your gaze up to her, your eyes immediately growing wet. Nodding you swallowed the lump in your throat. Wrapping your arms around your body you looked out over the garden;

“I know… it’s stupid. Its been two years, and it was a mutual decision to part ways, but Henry was my first, you know? He was my first everything. We got together when we were sixteen, we made it through our A-Levels together, we even managed a year doing long distance when we didn’t get into the same Uni…”

“What about that dude… Chris? Didn’t you two have a thing a while back”

You let out a laugh;

“He loves his politics too much to commit to a relationship. If i had to listen to one more rant about Tony Blair whilst we tried to go out for dinner i would have screamed…”

You looked at Marie who was now halfway through her fried egg sandwich whilst her cigarette sat smouldering in the petunias that had mostly gone over for the season, and she gave you the ‘sad puppy eyes’ as she chewed. You let out a grunt of frustration;

“FUCK! I just want to not feel like this anymore! I’ve spent two years moping over Henry-fucking-Cavill, i just want to be able to get on with my post graduate and move on with my life without being constantly reminded of his skills every time i try to do any work in my room!”

-

Henry smiled and waved as Monica, no Michelle, no… wait… whoever made their way down the front steps of the house, closing the door with a sigh of relief. 

“Another one dude?”

Looking at where Anthony was coming down the stairs he nodded;

“Yup. Sorry about the noise” 

He followed his housemate through to the kitchen, switching the kettle on. He was now used to Henry’s conquests screaming the house down, but it was still fun to taunt Henry about the noise they would make;

“So, this was was faking it again?”

Henry looked at him in mock-shock;

“I can assure you none of them fake it”

Chucking teabags into two mugs Anthony chuckled;

“I know man. But i also know you’re still trying to fill the void she left. Its been two years man”

“Yeah, but she’s long gone, i’m her past, i’d only drag her down. She’s probably got some hot politics graduate about to propose to her. She wouldn’t want some dumb physical education ass like me anymore”

Handing him the strong cup of tea Anthony nodded;

“Whatever man, but i still think you should message her, you haven’t spoken in two years and you’re still hung up on her, one last try, huh?”

Heading out to the garden Henry sat on the patio wall and lit a cigarette. He’d sworn he’d never smoke again, what with being a physical education student, but there were still times when he buckled to his nerves and stresses. Lighting up he inhaled deeply, enjoying the quiet of the garden before he heard his neighbours come out onto the patio next door. Through the trellis covered in a thick layer of ivy he could hear everything, as although it did a great job at giving visual privacy, the clear voices of the young women next door carried easily through the greenery.

Ten minutes later Henry almost knocked Anthony over as he bolted up the stairs;

“Sorry man, got something to do… gotta get my Blackberry”

-

The next morning you were on your way to class when your phone chimed, looking at the screen you felt your blood run hot then cold at the name on the display;

“What does he want?” you muttered to yourself, before with a sigh you pushed the phone back into your bag, deciding to look at it later once you had finished your class. The last thing you needed to get your mind off of Henry was a text from him.

-

Making your way out to the patio, you threw your bag onto the sofa and smiled as you saw the rest of the girls already out enjoying the last of the days sunshine;

“Heeeyyyyy there she is” Janelle called, sipping from a bottle of Becks

“Is there any more of those? I need a drink”

Handing you a bottle Marie smiled as you smashed the cap off using the top brick of the wall, sipping the tart bubbles of Lager you let out a sigh;

“Henry texted me today”

The three girls went quiet before Jo spoke;

“What did he say?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t read it. I’m trying to get over him, the last thing i need is getting my hopes up. He’s hundreds of miles away, no doubt doing something super sporty that only makes him look even better, probably coaching kids rugby or something. He’s not gonna want some boring English teacher wannabe like me”

At the mere mention of the word ‘Wannabe’ the others broke into a poor rendition of the Spice Girls song, unaware of the silent frustration happening the other side of the ivy trellis.

-

After one beer you’d excused yourself, deciding to take advantage of the quiet to get some coursework done, thankful that your room neighbour on the other side of the wall wasn’t entertaining any female guests again, but you had no idea how long that would last so the sooner you got some work done the better. With your bedroom window open you got back to work, getting in a full hour before your phone chimed again with another text. Glancing at the little screen on the front you scowled, another text from Henry.

Setting the phone down you went back to your work, frowning as you struggled to concentrate, until five minutes later your phone chimed again, your eyes going wide when you saw it was yet another text from Henry;

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?!” you yelled at your phone.

“A REPLY!”

You sat at your desk, surely your ears were now playing tricks on you, you could have sworn you’d heard Henry’s voice. With a sigh you set your pencil down and opened your phone, reading the messages;

Received 8.46am: Hi. I know its been a long time but i’d love to call you at some point. Would be good to hear your voice. Hen. x

Received 4.55pm: Miss you. Can I call you? Hen. x

The phone beeped whilst you held it, another text coming in;

Received 4.59pm:

Look outside.

Glancing at your window you moved to it and looked out, before a voice so familiar it sent chills down your spine shouted out;

“Down here!”

-

Janelle shouted out as you flew down the stairs, Jo and Marie both staring at the blur you made as you ran past the lounge and out the front door, letting it swing on its hinges;

“Where is she going so fast?”

The three girls stood at the window and smiled as they wanted to run into Henry’s arms;

“Into her future Husband’s embrace” Marie sighed, the three watching as the young lovers fell back into each other's arms.

“Wait, is he the ‘loud’ one?” Jo asked to no-one in particular

“Unfortunately… i spoke to one of the other guys - Anthony - last week, he apologised for his housemates noises”

“Oh well… guess she can get us some ear plugs then”

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #rugby teacher henry #au rugby teacher henry cavill

[yorumiraki]

“that’s just how it is”

jjk teachers x reader

part I

be advised: swearing

prologue ..... part II

[unedited]

13 years later.

…..me…..

…...me sa……

….hime…..

...hime-sa….

“...hime-sama.”

y/n can hear kana calling for her in her sleep, but groaned and turned the other way when she saw kana open the windows, letting the sun into the dusty room.

“let me sleep”

“hime-sama, you told me to wake you up.”

“well then i must’ve lied.”

“.....”

she let out a loud sigh while sitting up, stretching her arms up above her head before scratching it harshly. it looked to be morning time and y/n had told kana that she had many important things to do today. many things meaning lounging around even earlier than she usually does. there’s nothing to do around here besides sit around. money isn’t a problem. after what had happened she was able to buy a house outside the city, isolated in a large grass field and stayed there, only going into the city whenever she needed to go to the store with kana because god, she could never send that woman to get groceries, spending 300$ on groceries that (y/n) didn’t even need or ate. her life now was a bit better than before…. it was just very quiet. and lonely. kind of sad every time she thinks of it.

kana approached her sitting on the edge of the bed and pulled her up, y/n stumbling before catching her balance. it didn’t take much for her to ‘get ready’ for the day, since she spent her entire time in or around the house doing god knows what in her same sweats and sweatshirt she’s been wearing for the past two days.

kana guided the sleepy woman to the bathroom before letting her take a steamy shower and when she opened the door emerged from the mist, kana was delighted to see that she actually took a shower. it took a lot for her to even bother taking care of herself but thanks to kana being around still, even though it wasn’t necessary anymore, she still vowed to take care of her till her last breath. the next few hours of the day continued like usual, kana making food and y/n eating, sitting around reading, counting the birds flying by the house in the large field,tanning, sleeping, eating, training, she even picked up archery because she was just bored. too damn bored. sometimes she even laid face down in the field to pass the time.

“... i need to go outside…”

kana listens to her mumbling to herself, nodding in agreement to the statement.

“perhaps some archery will suffice, hime-sama.”

(y/n) grunted in agreement, a little peeved that she still called her that but let it go for now. she opened the sliding door, covering her eyes and walking out into the light. as expected, her eyes began to adjust slowly to the change, and she stood there waiting for her vision to clear up before continuing her way to the middle of the field. out there was a laid out table, and she headed to the side shed to fetch the arrows and bow before settling in front of the table, facing the target 40ft away from her. she stretches before jumping up dramatically, nodding to herself.

“alright alright.”

kana watched as y/n made her shots, turning away and looking into the forest, having the feeling that they were being watched. suspicion was her immediate reaction, there’s no other people around here except them, there no reason for someone else to be out here.

“hime-sama…”

“hold on, leave me be kana. i’m focusing right now.”

she hesitated before shutting her mouth and nodding, turning back to the forest to keep a lookout for any activity. all that could be heard was the sounds of blowing grass, birds chirping, and the loud sound of arrows striking onto the target. y/n seemed to be ignoring everything around her when in reality she was actually listening to the area around her as well, sensing random surges of energy before it would settle down. the wind began to blow a bit more and when it died back down, the feeling was even stronger than before. it was closer now.

‘ugh.’

the shifting of kanas feet could be heard, her nervousness becoming more obvious, turning to look at y/n with a perturbed look on her face.

“i know kana, i feel it.”

the last thing they both needed was getting into a brawl here and now, not when they were just trying to relax and go about their days peacefully. y/n pulled back the arrow and as she released it, her eyes widened watching the arrow stop right before the target, floating right in front of it. in a panic, she swiftly pulled another arrow into the bow before pulling it back again as far she could go, embedding her energy into it and aiming back towards the target. there behind said target, feet were peaking out at the bottom, a poor attempt at hiding. either that or they knew they would be noticed sooner or later.

“COME OUT.”

kana rushed over to y/n’s side, placing a hand on her shoulder before pulling her hand up threateningly towards the target as well.

“oya? you’re still no fun. didnt think you’d wanna kill me so soon…. (y/n)-sensei.”

both women were stunned, not expecting to see THAT man walk out from behind the target. white hair. black uniform. blindfold… and a stupid little smirk on his face.

gojo satoru.

“what do you think you’re doing here?”

“whaaat?? you’re not excited to see me.you’re favoriteee student, WAIT DONT SHOOT- just kidding~ not like it would hit me anyway…. oh come on stop being so stiff, and stop pointing that thing at meee. i’m the strongest you can’t do that. did you hear??? i’m the strongest and you can’t-“

the two women listen to him, (y/n) putting her bow down and roughly slamming it onto the table with a huff. just what she needed. the school to bother her again. gojo kept blabbering, not realizing that they were both waking away from him.

“h-hey w-wait, where are you going?”

“away.”

“wait come back we-“

“no.”

kana stopped walking and turned around, bowing to gojo before continuing to follow her mistress. she could hear y/n grumbling to herself, clear irritation obvious in her tone. she stopped, gojo appearing right in front of her, his hands stuck into his pockets looking down at her.

“i just want to talk.”

they stared at each other, her deciding whether or not it was even worth listening to. she did NOT want to be doing any favors for the school. being sent away was good enough damage. last thing she needed was to be used and get shit on. but she won’t deny that she was very curious about what he had come to bother her about.

“....tch….fine.”

she walked around him, slamming the sliding door open before walking in.

“gojo-san.”

“hm.”

kana approached him slowly, hands folded in front of her.

“it is a pleasure to see you. although i should warn you, hime-sama hasn’t really…spoken to anyone after all these years and she’s just, very rough right now. do you understand?”

he looked at the house for a moment before turning back and nodding he began walking inside, kana followed close behind, and silently slid the door shut.

“..... so what you’re saying is you got some 15 year old to eat the finger of sukuna. THE sukuna. you know, the four armed cunt whose fingers we couldn’t destroy?”

nod.

“ and then when you realized he was, as you say, “compatible”, you suggested that he became the vessel for sukuna as a chance to destroy said curse.”

“yup.”

“and because that happened, those elders, those bums, those HAGS, immediately decided to execute him without actually considering him as a potential vessel?”

nod.

“ and that you want to keep him alive because your student asked you too? a personal request? for him?”

“mhm”

“and not only do you want to bother me to just tell me this, but you want me to come back as well, that’s what you’re saying.”

“BINGO!”

“yeah, no.”

gojo stopped his little chair dance, before crossing his legs and arms.

“ (y/n)-sensei-

“stop calling me that damn it. saying that like i’m old or something. i’m literally 3 years older than you. i stopped teaching years ago. and what’s this whole thing about me coming back? i’m not even allowed to go back to that hellhole.”

“it seems being out here has made you a bit sluggish. i’m surprised you can even socialize at all.”

(y/n) went to flick his forehead, lifting her arm towards him, only to feel it be slowed down as she got closer and closer. eventually she gave up, settling for flipping him the bird instead.

‘overpowered little shit.’

“just shut up and finish what you were saying.”

“have you been working on your anger issues?”

(y/n)’s eye twitched, already knowing what he was trying to do. she rubbed the bridge of her nose in annoyance. as if she was gonna blow up for something like that.

kana walked over with a tray of tea, pouring into two cups before walking back to the kitchen. (y/n) reached for her cup, watching as gojo grabbed a handful of sugar cubes and threw them into his cup, stirring the contents with a spoon loudly.

“i did finish. all you need to do now is come back.”

“i don’t wanna come back for some kid, one of which i don’t even know, just so i can watch him die in the end.”

gojo shifts in his chair, pausing, looking at you closely.

“it was lifted.”

“what. what was lifted?”

“your banishment.”

an eerie silence takes over the room, (y/n) turning her head to the side and blinking repeatedly.

“what.”

he sips before continuing,

“you heard me. you’re free to come back. we would actually prefer if you did come back, we’re very low on staff right now and…”

he stopped talking as he watched her put her cup down and look away from the table, eyes glued on the view out the window next to her. a shine to her usually dull eyes.

“is… is that really true? you’re not fucking with me are you?”

gojo smirked, knowing he had caught her attention before nodding his head up and down in confirmation.

(y/n) sighed for the 100th time that day before turning back to him. she really didn’t wanna give in so quickly. all her worries were suddenly thrown out the window after hearing his last statement. in truth, this is really what she’s been wanting all these years. just to be able to come back. her grudge against the school was being chipped away at… but she wasn’t willing to let it go that easily. gojo tapped loudly at the rim of his teacup, pointing his finger at her.

“so?”

kana looked at her, tight lipped and curious. but (y/n) didn’t miss the hopeful look that twinkled in her eyes. breath in (y/n), breath in.

‘....damn it.’

“so this kid…”

gojos lips turned up into a wide grin.

“...he got a name?”

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk imagine #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #anime #gojo satoru #ieri shoko #nanami kento #mei mei #iori utahime

[bqstqnbruin]

F is for Friends - part 3

Whoops I'm in class rn but I just finished part 3 so here it is! I think this is the longest part so far, but not much longer than the others, so have fun.

But yeah, ignore typos, I might fix them eventually, but knowing me, I'll miss them so call em out if you feel like it.

Read the other parts here: Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 4

________________________

“I don’t get why it has to be him, though,” Keelan whines on the other end of the phone. You did the stupid thing and reminded him that Nolan and some of his teammates were visiting your classroom to do a lab with your honors kids today, and he reacted exactly how you expected him to while you were driving in that morning.

“Because Anderson is an ass and Nolan volunteered.”

“Ok, but why Nolan?” he asks, saying his name like it was cursed

“Because when I called Tom Holland he said he was busy.”

“You know what I mean,” he mumbles.

“No, I don’t.” Yes, you did, but you weren’t about to tell him that.

“Why couldn’t you have invited Fran and Lindsey?”

You sigh, pulling into your parking space outside the school, Javier already waiting for you by the door. “Because they had to be prominent and I don’t think anyone needs the two of them trying to do an experiment. Now, I have to go, Nolan and the guys will be here after lunch, I’m already fucking nervous because of Anderson. I love you, goodbye,” you tell him, hanging up before he can get another word in.

“Are you ready?” Javier asks, handing you the cup of coffee he had picked up for you, waiting outside by his car like he did every morning.

“I almost threw up, like, five times getting ready this morning and Keelan is being an ass about this,” you huff, struggling to swipe your ID to get into the building. “Why isn’t this working?”

He takes the ID out of your hand, flipping it around in his fingers before swiping it himself. “Holding it the right way might help.”

You take it from him, clearly annoyed. “If this is any indication as to how the rest of the day is going to go I’m quitting and looking for another job at 3 pm.”

“So you’re not going to be dramatic today, I see,” Javier jokes, earning a glare from him as the two of you walk up to your classroom, greeting students as you passed by them in the halls. “Hey, listen. You’re a great teacher,” your friend assures you once you unlock your classroom door. “You’re going to be fine. If you need me, I have my free period during your first class they’re here, and I think Charlie has a free period during your second if you still need someone to run interference when Anderson is there.”

“Thanks,” you tell him, turning into your classroom to get ready for the day. Your phone was buzzing with texts, some angry from Keelan about what he was now referring to as ‘the neighbor situation,’ and one from Nolan asking you to confirm yet again where they were supposed to go.

“Are you buying lunch today?” Javier comes back into your room with his own to stash in the fridge that was in the back corner of your class. It wasn’t yours, nor was it for food technically, but that didn’t stop you and Javier from stashing your lunches in there instead of walking down to the teacher's lounge on the other side of the school.

You sit there for a minute, trying to remember if you even grabbed it when you were heading out the door that morning. Between Keelan busting your ass about Nolan, thinking of the lesson the lab that you were doing that afternoon, and just the general morning antics of getting out the door on time, you left your lunch bag on your kitchen counter. “Is there still a box of cereal in there?” you ask him when he opens the fridge.

“Yeah.”

“That’s my lunch then,” you say, keeping it in there so it wouldn’t be exposed to chemicals or attract any sort of rodent or vermin that you had no desire in dealing with. You knew today was going to be hell, and you weren’t even prepared for the college prep kids you were going to see during the second and third periods. You do your best to scramble and get everything you needed, thankful for the first time that you were giving them a test that you could grade during lunch and last period (and honestly, at home since that’s where most grading took place) instead of having to worry about teaching them when your mind was occupied by your honors lesson that day.

By the time your college prep kids were done with their tests, you were trying to mentally prepare for the lab, only to freak yourself out. Your computer dings, right before the bell rings, a message from Anderson saying that he would be stopping by during the second period to observe since ‘it was his job to make sure you were doing well as your superior.’ God, you hated him. The bell for lunch rings, your students filing out of your room as you grab the mug you kept on your desk and poured as much cereal into it as you could.

Javier comes back into your room, grabbing his lunch and plopping himself down at the table, eating his lunch as the two of you fell into conversation as you always did. Not even five minutes in, your classroom phone rings right as you hit print for the instructions you wrote up for the boys.

“Y/L/N’s room,” you answer, the school’s secretary telling you that the guys were in the office waiting for you. “Oh, wow, ok, I’ll be right down.” You hang up, throwing your hair into a bun, and grab your mug of cereal. “I’m getting the guys, do you want to come with me or wait here until we come back?”

Javier comes with you, both of you practically running through the halls out of panic that your students would bombard whoever Nolan brought with him. You were munching away at the cereal as you open the door to the main office, seeing Nolan and two of the other guys in their Flyers jerseys, all of them looking awkward with their hands in their pockets, unsure of what else to do. “Hey, guys!” you greet them, Nolan the first to turn around. Fuck him for looking good and making your heart skip a beat. It’s not fair, is it? “Uh, this is Javier, one of the other chem teachers,” you introduce him once you collect yourself, trying not to focus all your attention on Nolan.

This was at most a crush. Just a crush on the boy who lived next door to you. Who was also hot and sweet. Just a crush that you shouldn’t even be thinking about at school to begin with, so who cares? Having a crush on a boy does not mean that you loved him or that you loved Keelan any less. Oskar and Travis introduce themselves to you and Javier, the five of you walking back to your classroom while you continue to eat the cereal, suddenly very conscious of how weird it looked.

“No Kev?” you ask Nolan, the two of you lagging behind the other three guys while they talk.

Nolan shrugs, feeling nervous to even be with you in the school hallway. Every single thing he’s thought about you in the last how many days started flooding back to him, something was telling him that besides the fact that he shouldn’t be thinking them at all, he shouldn’t be thinking of them in your school. “He said he didn’t sleep well last night so he was going to stay at our place.”

“Hey, Y/N, what are we doing today?” Oskar asks, pulling your attention away from Nolan once you get back to your classroom.

“The kids are going to be designing a lab where they have to use the ideas of limiting and excess reactant to get the desired product.”

“What does that mean?” Travis asks, Javier sitting back and watching everything happen.

“So you’re not always going to have a perfect ratio of chemicals, nor are all reactions going to go to completion where everything reacts with everything,” you start to explain. “Think of it this way: you guys have your roster of however many players, yeah? You need three forwards, and two bluelines out on the ice in a normal five-on-five. Say every line is locked in; it can’t be changed, you can’t move people around, you can’t have people playing with different players outside of their line, it’s always the same five people. If you have nine forwards and 8 defensemen, how many line combinations can you have?”

“Three,” Nolan answers you.

“Why?”

“Because you have enough defense for four lines, but only three lines when you’re looking at forwards.”

“Right,” you say, not noticing the looks that Oskar and Travis were giving Nolan, “so your forwards in this case, are going to be like your limiting reactant, your blueliners are your excess because you would have two of them leftover.”

“And what are the kids going to do?” Oskar asks you.

“I’m going to give them a desired product, tell them how much of it they want to make, and they’re going to have to figure out how much of each reactant they’re going to need to make that.”

“And they can do that?” Travis asks.

“Knowing Y/N, they can,” Nolan mumbles, his cheeks turning red.

Before you can respond, the bell rings indicating the end of lunch. “Well, alright then.”

The boys and Javier lean against the back counter, your students coming into your classroom as you tried to down the rest of your cereal that you forgot about while you were talking to the boys. You knew that you wouldn’t be able to eat during the lab given the chemicals, but you definitely had to eat something.

“Ms. Y/L/N, who are they?” Spencer asks.

You hold up your finger for him to wait a minute, some of your students knowing who they are, one of your girls going absolutely feral in the corner opposite from where they were standing. The bell rings for you finally start class, getting your 24 students to quiet down as they wondered what the guys were doing. “We have guests today!” you tell them in your cheeriest teacher voice. You were genuinely excited for them to be there, but now that they actually were in the same room as your students, your nerves were threatening to take over. “From the Philadelphia Flyers, we have Oskar Lindblom, Travis Konecny, and Nolan Patrick to do our lab with us today! And for this period we also have Mr. Emillion, and later Mr. Fitzgerald later, so we’re going to have a lot of adults in our room.”

You start explaining your agenda for the day with your kids, knowing that some of them were focusing on the boys more than they were on you. You get into your lesson anyway, starting with your review questions. “If you have a reactant that remains after the reaction, is that the excess or the limiting reactant?”

“Excess,” Nolan mumbles under his breath as one of your students says the same thing. You ask another question, Nolan answering again, Travis and Oskar looking between him and each other.

“So, since when do you know so much about chemistry?” Travis leans over to Nolan while you’re explaining the directions to your students.

“I don’t. Y/N already explained it to me.”

“Let me rephrase it: since when do you care about chemistry?” Nolan just shrugs, pretending like he didn’t know what Travis was getting on about. “Oh, come on. Kevin told us about you liking her. At least be less obvious about it if you aren’t going to ask her out.”

Nolan takes in a deep breath, “We’re not doing this now.”

The students go off to do their thing, trying to brainstorm the procedure when you go up to the guys. Javier was already walking around and listening to the students chatter about their ideas. “So, you guys can guide them through everything, don’t outright tell them any of the steps they’re supposed to have written down. Follow what Javier and I are doing, I guess,” you tell them, having to force yourself to look at Oskar and Travis instead of just Nolan. They nod and start walking around, clearly confused.

This was going to end very poorly and you knew it. Especially with Anderson coming in. You watch the four guys walk around, the three hockey players clueless as the students try to figure out how they can interact with them. You realize the copies you made for them were still sitting in the printer tray in the other room, running to get them before anyone noticed you were gone. You were so scatter-brained by everything today, adding to the general anxiety you felt going into the lesson.

You start walking around, listening to the students and guiding them as they needed you to, thankful that they were actually getting the procedure they needed without much difficulty. “Alright, it looks like most of you have the procedure down,” you say to your class, walking around and hovering over your student's shoulders. “Make sure that before you start, either Mr. E or myself have to sign off on it, then our guys from the Flyers can help you with the lab. Sound good?”

Your students all agree, calling you and Javier over to read through their procedures so they can start. You were getting more nervous over the threat of the bell ringing soon and knowing that Javier had to go and teach his class, leaving you alone with the boys when Anderson came in to observe, too. You were running around, trying to scan through the procedures to make sure they were right so they could start working after the bell rang.

The bell sounds, your students starting to get chaotic, “Alright guys, you can take a break now or once you get your reaction heating, but not both. It’s up to you but you get five minutes either way.”

Some of your groups leave to go hang out in the hallway while their other friends move to their next class, some of your students get right to work with their lab goggles to start mixing. You were just waiting for Anderson to come in so he could rip you to shreds for whatever he felt like today.

“Hey,” Nolan says, taking you out of your trance. “You’re doing fine.”

“This experiment has to go well with the three of you,” you tell him, watching Oskar and Travis trying to help some of your students. Trying was the keyword there, but the students looked like they were having fun teaching the guys what to do.

“You’re an awesome teacher, it’s going to go well. Look at them. They know exactly what they’re doing and you barely had to tell them. That’s a great teacher,” you hear him say. You give him an unsure look. “Come on, would I lie to you?”

You shrug, a smile on your face. You could feel the heat rush to your cheeks as he scoffs when you tell him, “I don’t know.”

“Miss Y/L/N! Nice to see you!” you hear that voice calling you when the bell rings, all of your students filtering back in and getting right to work, knowing that Nolan heard you start mumbling under your breath as soon as Anderson appeared in your doorway.

“Hi, Mr. Fitzgerald,” you say, fake sweetness dripping in your voice when Anderson comes right up to you. “Class, say hi to Mr. Fitz!” you call him the nickname you knew he hated.

He looks around your room, trying to see who you brought. The fake smile he had plastered on his face drops when he sees the three guys. “You know the Flyers?”

You tried your hardest to hide the obvious smile on your own face, seeing the anger build inside him knowing that you had someone more impressive to work with your students. You shrug, “Yeah. Nolan here is my neighbor,” you introduce him, Nolan offering up an awkward wave, “I mean, they aren’t the president of a school in a university, but I think the students are having fun.”

“So what are the students doing?” Anderson asks, his face red with jealousy that you brought the boys.

Nolan walks away, as you start to explain that your students are going to make zinc chloride from an anhydrous copper chloride and solid zinc solution. He had no idea what it meant, but he knew that it was a silver piece of metal with a blue solid that you dissolve in water and it’s supposed to create a milky-looking liquid.

He starts walking through the class, listening to your students as they do the experiment, even though he still had no idea what they were talking about. One of your students was sitting in the corner, watching everything happen around him but not participating. “Hey, bud,” Nolan approaches him. “How’s it going?”

The student just nods, not taking his eyes off his paper while his partner does the rest of the work.

“I’m Nolan,” he says, sitting down next to the child. He watches the other student continue to mix the solution to get it to react. “So you let that sit now, right?”

“Yep.”

You and Anderson stand and watch the students, Anderson saying something about how the experiment was going, but you weren’t listening to him at all. You were making sure your students were doing what they needed to, working on the additional practice problems they had while the solution was sitting, seeing them get out the hot plates and set them up for when they would need them later, interacting with each other.

“Anderson,” you say, cutting him off once you see Nolan in the back corner, “look.”

He follows your gaze to Darren, your student who normally didn’t say a word, talking with Nolan and explaining everything to him. Nolan had a huge smile on his face that mirrored Darren’s and his partner Sydney’s. “I’ve never seen him talk with someone before,” Anderson says, dumbfounded. You knew Darren had been assigned to your class because Anderson wanted to see you work with ‘an unworkable student’ as you had overheard him telling Javier at the end of last school year. Darren was laughing with Nolan and Sydney, doing the work and actually helping his partner more than just doing the work on paper and passing it over to Syd like he normally did.

You both stand there, watching the three of them interact. You had a huge smile on your face, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks when Nolan looks away from the students and smiles at you, Darren holding up the beaker with their pale blue solution in it to show you. You give them a thumbs up, turning to Anderson and boasting, “I think they’re doing well.”

Anderson mumbles something under his breath, probably for the better since you had a feeling it was something about you as a general person.

You scan the room again, watching Travis and Oskar interact with the students, still not really sure what they were doing, but they all had smiles on their faces, so you couldn’t complain. You leave Anderson, walking around the room, making sure your students were doing ok. One of the groups asks you a question about the review worksheet they were doing, leaning against the table to help them. You listen to them talk through the problem, seeing Nolan staring at you out of the corner of your eye. Why couldn’t you focus on your students when he was right there?

You look up at the clock when you finish with that group of students. “Alright, y’all,” you get their attention, “Eyes on me for a minute. We have ten more minutes before the bell rings, which means we need to be cleaned up by then so you guys can get to your next class. You can leave the mixtures on the hot plates if they aren’t done heating and I will watch them. What I want one person to do right now is get a paper town and write you and your partner’s names on it and put it on the back counter for them to cool and we can mass them tomorrow, ok?” Your students agree and start scurrying around the room to do what you told them.

You move out of the way, going back to Anderson. “I’m impressed,” he says, a hint of genuine shock in his voice.

“Oh, really?”

Before he can answer, you hear something drop, the distinct sound of glass shattering on the floor. “No one move!” you say, all of your students halting as you try to figure out who dropped what.

Your student Nina waves you over as you rush to get your dustpan and brush, Anderson rushing over to help you clean up. “Are you alright?” you ask her.

“I cut my hand a little,” she lets out, showing you the scratch on her finger.

Anderson cleans up the glass, the rest of your students careful not to break anything else. You knew something had to go wrong. The day was going to perfect for something to not ruin it. “Let’s clean you up.” You help Nina wash her hand, making sure none of the chemicals got on her as you search for a bandage. “Was that the beaker with the zinc chloride?” She nods, you see a tear threatening to roll down her cheeks, knowing that she just ruined the product they had spent the entire period making and heating. Nolan watches you comfort her, feeling his heart flutter at the sight of you bandaging up your student. He pictured himself coming home after a game he got a fight in, you being there and helping him clean up a little more.

“Dude,” Travis whispers, scaring Nolan out of his fantasy. “You’re drooling.”

He waves him off while he watches you comfort your student who had started crying. “Hey, Neen,” you coo, a smile on your face, “It’s ok. Accidents happen. Remember I told you I was a lab assistant when I was in college? I can’t even count how many things I broke during one semester, let alone the entire time I was in the lab. We worked on the motto: if you break things that means you’re working hard. The harder you work, the more you break.”

“But we have to redo it,” she lets out.

You give her a nod, scrunching your face up. “Yeah. But if you get it started I can watch it heat. Do you have a class next period?” She nods. “Alright, hey Spencer?” you call over Nina’s partner, “Come here for a sec? Do you have a class next period?”

“Yeah. But I have a free period first period tomorrow. I can come in then.”

“Ok, here’s what we’re going to do,” you start, “Tomorrow, Spencer is going to come start the experiment, then Nina, do you have a free period at all?”

“Second period.”

“Perfect! Spencer will get it started, Nina will finish it, and if it’s not completely dry by class, I’ll give you an extra day to do the calculations. Sound good?”

They both nod, the bell ringing as you tell your students goodbye. That had to be the most stressful double period of your life, thanks to all the men who had to be in your room with you, the fourth of them now standing there staring at you.

“Not bad, Y/L/N,” Anderson says. “Only one thing broke. That’s gotta be a new record for you.”

He leaves before you could protest, your mouth hanging open even though you weren’t sure how you could even rebuttal his statement. You look at the three guys, Nolan looking significantly more upset than he probably needed to be. “That’s the first time something’s broken in three months.”

“He really is an ass,” Nolan says, grabbing a seat at one of the tables.

“I told you.”

“So, uh,” Travis starts, looking between you and Nolan. “Do you have another class or anything?”

“Nope. I have my last period free, but I have to go to the library in case any chem students need tutoring. You guys are free to go. I really can’t thank you guys enough. I’m not sure what I could ever do to make it up to you, but anything. This was huge,” you gush, really meaning it. The students loved it, and other than the one beaker breaking and Nina’s slight break down as a result, it went really well. You had done the lab in the past where the students had to redo the lab three times before it even worked, this time, you only saw one group redo it one time.

“Yeah, Nolan can probably think of something,” you thought you heard Oskar mumble, Nolan glaring at him. “We should get going, then.”

“Actually, Y/N, do you mind if I get a ride home with you?” Nolan asks as you gather your things to head down to the library. “You know, so they don’t have to go out of their way to drive me home?”

Travis’s mouth hangs open, a stupid grin on his face as he nudges Oskar, both of them looking at you as you’re clearly caught off guard. “Uh, yeah sure, we just have to go to the library, like I said. Are you sure you want to stay? I won’t leave for another hour and a half.”

“Yeah, I do,” he tells you, his cheeks bright red.

“Ok, um, you guys go back to the main office and sign out, I’ll just call down and tell them you’re staying?”

Travis and Oskar leave after bickering over something with Nolan that was out of earshot for you. Why would he want to stay? He had mentioned that Travis didn’t live that far away, so the ‘going out of their way’ argument seemed invalid.

You shake it off, leading Nolan down to the library. “You did a great job with Darren, by the way.”

He shrugs, taking the seat across from you at the empty table you found. Students were walking around, you hopeful that none of them would need help from you. “He’s a good kid.”

“I’m so excited to tell his mom about today,” you say, typing away on your computer. You look up, reading Nolan’s confused expression. “Getting Darren to talk in the class has yet to be successful for me. His mom asked me at the beginning of the year to tell her whenever he has a good day. I’ve never seen him talk that much and genuinely enjoy it.”

“Do you email all the parents when their kids have a good day?”

You shake your head, “I try to. High school kids, because they’re teenagers, don’t always get the praise and excitement from adult figures in their lives because they’re in that period of ‘you’re still a child and are treated as such but are expected to act like an adult.’. Even if it’s something small like they were participating a lot more than normal like in Darren’s case. It makes them more motivated and willing to learn if they know you recognize when they do something good.”

“Really?”

You force yourself not to make eye contact with him, knowing that you would see him blushing as he always was and that would, in turn, make you do the same. “Come on,” you say, pretending to watch out for kids who could be coming for tutoring, “don’t you remember when you were in school getting excited over the simple act of a sticker on a test you got a good grade on? I remember my senior year we were sitting in our world language class and everyone got an A on the test our teacher gave, and we all started begging for stickers because she had given them the last three years we had her. She was so annoyed with us, but every test after that, no matter what grade we got, a sticker was always on the test. It’s little, but it’s fun.”

“Teaching is a lot more than I thought it was,” you hear him say. Honestly, he wasn’t really paying attention to the words coming out of your mouth; he just loved that you were talking about something you so clearly loved.

You laugh, “Yeah. It can be a lot. You haven’t seen my college prep classes. Honors is a little easier because the students are slightly more independent in terms of their work, but my CP kids just have more needs for them to learn the same material.”

“What?”

“It’s the ‘lower level, but the difference is it just takes longer for those kids to learn the same information. So what we did today, I’ll probably do in a month or so with CP, and I would give them the procedure, either straight up or have them fill in the blanks depending on the child and the group.”

“Depending on their group?”

“Yeah. Each lesson has to meet the needs of every child, which means modifying and accommodating it based on if they have an IEP, a 504, which falls under special education plans, or if their parents request it or the student themself requests it but it’s not written. Like, I wouldn't interact with you the same way I would interact with Fran, or Maddy, or Keelan," or elaborate, swallowing hard at the mention of your boyfriend's name. " You interact with people based on how you need to interact with them and what their needs are. Kids aren’t one size fits all, so why should their education be?”

You kept talking but he stopped listening, hating himself for the realization that he came to while you talked about teaching, a soft smile covering your face while you continue to look around for students instead of looking at him: whatever feelings he had for you were more than just a crush, Kevin and Travis sadly being correct. He wasn’t in love with you, but he wanted, needed to be more than just your friend.

But you were still with Keelan.

The bell rings, signaling the end of the day, you and Nolan going back to your classroom until you were contractually allowed to leave. “So what are you doing tonight?” Nolan asks you. He wasn’t sure where he was going with this, but he didn’t want his day with you to end once you pulled into the parking space outside your apartments.

You shrug, looking around your desk for the tests that you had given your CP kids that morning. “Grading these,” you tell him, holding them up before stuffing them into your bag. He opens his mouth, about to say something when you get cut off by the sound of your phone. “Oh, it’s Keelan!” you squeal, Nolan’s entire body deflating at the sound of your boyfriend’s name. “Hey, you’re on speaker, I’m here with Nolan.”

He lets out a sigh before giving you a monotonous, “Hey, guys.”

“What’s up?”

“What are you doing tonight?” he asks you, Nolan’s heart dropping, knowing where this was going.

“I was just telling Nolan that I was going to grade the tests for my CP kids, why?”

“Can that wait until tomorrow, do you think?”

Running through your schedule in your head, you tell him, “Yeah, they’re not expecting them back for a week anyway.”

“Let’s go out tonight.”

Nolan could feel himself getting sick listening to this conversation, for no other reason than he wanted to be the one with you tonight. But he knew he couldn’t as he watched the smile on your face grow. “Where?”

“I want to take you somewhere nice, you know, treat my girl how she deserves to be treated. We haven’t had a date night in a while and I miss you.”

“What time do you want to go?” you ask him, your heart racing. It wasn’t racing in excitement to be with Keelan, but because you were suddenly incredibly aware of Nolan being right there as you were being asked out by the guy you were sure you loved.

“I’ll pick you up at five?”

“Sounds great. I’ll see you then.”

“I love you, Y/N.”

You hesitate, looking at Nolan who was no longer making eye contact with you. “Love you, too, Keel,” you force yourself to get out. You hang up, looking at the clock to see that it was thankfully time for the two of you to leave and go home, giving you around an hour to get ready by the time you got home and got as much ready as you could for school tomorrow. “We’re free to leave now, if you want,” you offer him, packing up your bag for the day.

He just nods, waiting for you at the door as you walk out to the car, driving home in silence, only a mumble goodbye as the two of you get out of your car and go inside.

Five pm rolls around, Keelan getting out of his car to greet you as you go running up to him. Nolan watches you from his window, knowing he was being a creep, but he couldn’t help it. You looked perfect in the dress and heels you had on, your hair and makeup done to make you look more beautiful than he had ever seen. He watched you run into Keelan’s arms, Keelan lifting you off the group as the two of you kissed, Nolan green with envy as he watched him get the door for you for the two of you to drive off to the night he wished he was experiencing with you.

#nolan patrick #nolan patrick imagines #philadelphia flyers #philadelphia flyers imagines #flyers #flyers imagines #nhl #nhl imagines #hockey #hockey imagines #f is for friends

[erensproudsimp]

Confession

Jean kirschtein x reader Oneshot

⚠ Sexual Content Ahead ⚠

Summary : You didn't want to admit your feelings to Jean in fear of losing him until tables were turned.

"I wonder how much everyone changed after all this time", you said staring at the moving landscape through the windshield.

"I'm pretty sure there's a lot to catch up with friends you haven't met since one year", Annie replied from the driver's seat.

"I bet Historia and Ymir must be dating by now", you chuckled.

"That wouldn't be much of a shocker to me to be honest", Annie added face straight at the road.

It's been one year since your friend group graduated university and because everyone was preoccupied with their individual lives, y'all didn't have the opportunity to meet up. Until today as Jean had organised a party at his mansion. The thought of his name made your face feel hot. For as long as you can remember you've always felt a certain type of way towards that horse face.

"Thinking about him huh", Annie said noticing the redness on your cheeks.

'Wha- what do you mean? No I'm not thinking of Jean", you responded frantically looking away.

" I didn't say a name though." You could see Annie smirking in the corner of your eyes.

"Don't you think it's high time you tell him about your feelings? Who knows he likes you back too and besides you two would actually make a pretty good couple looking back at how both of you were with each other," Annie suggested.

"I don't know about that, Annie, you know I fear rejection", you said dejectedly while reminiscing at the good old days when all you and Jean did was tease the hell out of each other and pull pranks with Sasha and Connie on teachers and the others.

Soon after you reached a grand gate.

"Open up horse face it's me and y/n," Annie said over the radio.

"Yeah yeah and don't call me horse face!" Jean scoffed on the microphone. Hearing his voice made butterflies errupt in your stomach. It was the first time you were coming over his house and damn the boy was rich rich as you looked at the magnificent well-kept garden enriched by a fountain in the middle face-to-face with stairs leading to the three story illuminated building.

When you reached inside, your eyes fell on Mikasa who was lounging on the couch. Shrieking you threw yourself on her, "Oh my god! Oh my god! Mikasa It's been so long!"

"Ahaha! Welcome y/n! I missed you too now stop crushing me," Mikasa coughed from the impact of your bodies colliding.

"Did someone get hurt? Why was there a scream?" Eren inquired coming from what seems to be the kitchen with Armin.

"Oh its just y/n", Armin said as you ran and jumped on him making both of you fall down laughing, "Armiiin! I missed you so much!"

"What's all this commotion about?" Connie asked revealing himself accompanied by Sasha who was savoring a pizza, a quizzical look on her face.

"Gosh I missed you guys so much! where are the rest?" you asked a tear in your right eye.

"Reiner, Berthold, Marco and Jean are setting up the projector to watch a movie and Ymir and Historia haven't reached ye-", Eren was cut off with the arrival of said people.

"Hola amigos! We have news for you all!" Ymir shouted while hugging Historia, "We're finally going out with each other!"

"Tell me why am I not surprised," Annie said as Historia blushed and Ymir just frowned at her words. Just at that moment Jean entered the room alongside with the boys making everyone invited present in the hall.

All the blood in your body rushed to your face as you saw Jean being a totally different person from last year. He grew a goatee on his face and his hair was longer too which seemed to be a mullet. He was wearing a casual grey hoodie and sweatpants yet this was so hot to you.

Your voice was stuck in your throat when you tried to say a word to him but either ways the monent the came he announced that everything was ready for the movie. He didn't even acknowledge your presence or make eye contact with you. It felt odd as you two were so close and he barely looked in your direction.

Everyone proceeded to go to the cinema hall which was located in the basement. You took your seat between Annie and Mikasa and Jean was right behind you. In a few the movie 'Attack on titan' started. Fifteen minutes in and you had already finished all your popcorn so you got up to fetch more from the kitchen. While going out you noticed that Jean and Marco were not in the hall but you choose to ignore it to go fetch your food. Right before you entered your destination you heard two voices coming from a room. You usually don't eavesdrop but the sudden mention of your name intrigued you to do so.

"It's now or never Jean who knows after how long you would finally see y/n again", you heard Marco said to Jean.

"I don't know Marco this seems like a bad decision to me", Jean continued.

"How would you know about that Jean? You think you know how y/n truly feels but you may be wrong you know ", your heart skipped a beat after hearing this.

Did this mean it was what you were thinking?

"Marco, I think it's for the best I don't tell y/n how I feel about her/them", Jean mumbled. So that's why he's been ignoring you. This confirmed your thoughts and under the shock you lost your footing pushing the door you were leaning against open. Jean saw his life flash in front of his eyes when he realised you heard what he said.

"You know what, I am letting you two alone to talk", Marco said taking his leave giving you a reassured look before closing the door behind him

You looked at Jean with soft eyes while he turned his back on you with his hand on the back of his neck. You noticed that the tips of his ears were red and before you could say anything he spoke up.

"So you heard what I said huh, would you please forget about it? I don't want to lose you because you're aware of my feelings for you", Jean said looking down with his back still facing you.

"Jean look at me", you asked him but he refused to do so which resulted in you walking to face him but he still looked away.

You grabbed his face to make him look at you. Jean was expecting you to reject him but instead you pressed your lips against his. His eyes widen at your action and he kissed you back more roughly when it hit him.

You pushed him to the bed as you sat on his lap continuing to makeout with him. His hands roamed around your body from your waist to finally grab your ass and give it a little squeeze.

You pulled back with a string of saliva connecting your mouths and looked him.

He looked at you thinking if only you knew how beautiful you were in his eyes.

"Does this mean you return my feelings?" Jean hopingly asked.

"Who kisses their best friend without feelings moron?" you smiled at him bopping his nose.

At this instant your mouths collided with each other again. Your hand reached down to peel his hoodie off his body and goddamn he was hot. You ran your petite hands against his hard muscular chest and abbs as Jean was looking at you adoringly.

Suddenly he grabbed your chin and attacked your neck with kisses. He ran this tongue on the skin while he unbuttoned your shirt to reveal your red bra. He went down from your neck to your collarbone leaving hickeys behind. A sharp pain followed by pleasure made you purr. He skilfully opened your bra with his one hand while the other was in your hair pulling it.

As your undergarment fell to the floor his jaw dropped at the sight of your perfect boobs in front of him. It felt like a blessing that he was witnessing you in this state. While he was busy gawking at you, you took his big slender hands and placed it on them. His cheeks took a bright red colour.

You grinded on his thighs feeling him getting harder. He let out a soft grunt feeling this sensation. He was sucking on one nipple and pinching the other one which made you throw your head back in absolute bliss.

Jean then advanced into helping you take off your pants leaving you in your panties. The more this man undresses you the more mesmerised he was by your figure. He slid his fingers up and down your cunt feeling how wet he made you when he barely even touched you.

"Would you sit on my face? please", Jean breathed with eyes filled with lust. You felt your clit pulsating at his request and you knew Jean could feel it too on his thigh. You nodded with your flushed face unable to say anything out of embarrassment.

He laid down on the bed as you took off your panties. Climbing on him his hands grabbed your waist guiding you right above his mouth. He ran his tongue through your folds making you lose your breath. He held you still so that you wouldn't move away while he was eating you out. He flicked your bud then inserted his tongue into and out you. You held onto the bed counter for support, your hair falling on your face.

"Jeannn", you moaned as you began riding his face. Jean was delighted let his tongue flat to let you pleasure yourself on him. Moving up and down you ravished this sweet feeling coursing through you. Soon after your legs began trembling signaling you were reaching your climax.

"Go ahead cum on my face please y/n", Jean pleaded and you did as he told. He felt your juices ran down his neck as he was savoring the taste.

"This is the best dinner of my life," he panted as you got off him. Your heart was beating so hard against your ribs as though it would come out.

You returned to your original place on his lap. You helped him take off his sweatpants watching his hard member spring free.

"Are you okay with this?" Jean asked.

"I've waited years to be able to do it so hell yeah I am," shifting yourself on his lap to make his dick right outside your entrance, you slowly inserted it in you. Feeling the neediness grow bigger Jean couldn't take it and pushed you down completely making his dick disappear in you. You bit his shoulder to help you bear with this immense pleasure.

"Fuck y/n you feel so good", Jean moaned being wrapped with your tight walls.

Pulling back from his shoulder you looked at him in the eyes as you rode him, your foreheads touching each other. Your boobs were bouncing from your up and down movement making you look so erotic to Jean. With time you picked more speed and was moving quicker. Jean was losing his mind at this. Your bodies blended into one. Jean bit his lips and grabbed your thighs so hard it was leaving marks. Your lips connected into a sloppy yet passionate kiss.

"Shit y/n I'm reaching my limit"

"Let's cum together Jean"

Jean was thrusting his hips into you out of instinct. The room was filled with the heavy breathing of both of you and the dirty sound of your ass and his thighs clapping.

Your body freezed as you let everything out of you and felt Jean's hot liquid inside of you. You screamed his name against his chest. Removing his dick from you, you sat on his lap looking into each other's eyes.

Suddenly you heard the door open revealing Eren outside.

"Oh my god I'm so sorry!" the poor boy appologised closing the door as fast as he could.

Jean and you broke into a laughter being happy that one of two finally confessed.

End.

Thank you for reading. :)

#jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirschtein x you #aot smut #aot ff #aot fandom #aot fanfiction #aot x y/n #aot x you #jean kirstein #jean kirschtein imagine #jean kirschtein scenarios #jean kirschtein smut #jean kirstein smut #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein x you #snk x you #snk x reader #snk jean #shingeki no kyoujin fanfiction #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #erensproudsimp #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan x you #attack on titan jean #attack on titan x y/n #attack on titan smut #attack on titan fanfiction #jean x reader #jean x y/n

[blackdiamondwrites127]

Daily Routine in the Life of Maria Trastámara

7:30 AM-8:30 AM - Morning routine (wake up, take a bath, have breakfast, get ready for work)

"Another day, another opportunity!"

"I'm going in the shower first!"

"You take too long in there! Let me shower first! You unlock that door this instant, Gabby!"

8:30 AM-8:50/9:00 AM - Travel to work (travel time depends on traffic situation)

"Ugh...I bloody hate traffic..."

8:50/9:00 AM-10:00 AM - Clock in and prepare lessons/quizzes/test

"Clocking in starts the money generator~"

"Why do you always say that?"

"It gives me motivation to work everyday. You should try it!"

10:00 AM-12:00 PM - Go to class and teach prepared lesson/give quiz/test

"Good morning class! Let's start today's learning!"

"Literally no one likes math, Ms. T."

"Tell that to the engineers, architects, mathematicians, accountants and a whole other field of jobs that you may or may not qualify for."

12:00PM-1:00PM - Have lunch with the history teacher in the teacher's lounge

"Do you make your own lunch, Maria?"

"Sometimes but my partner's mostly the one in charge of the kitchen."

1:00 PM-4:00 PM - Go to class and teach prepared lesson/give quiz/test

"Pop quiz everyone!"

*collective groans*

"Oh lighten up! You guys knew this was coming!"

4:00 PM-5:00 PM - After school work (grade papers, PTA meetings, math club activities, faculty meeting, etc.)

"Oh boy. I sure do love grading papers after school."

"No you don't, Tia Maria."

"No I really don't, Hal."

----------

*Internally screaming while a parent talks about how her precious angel doesn't deserve his failing grade*

----------

"You guys are the only ones who truly appreciate my teachings."

"That's because we're the Math Club, Ms. T."

"I know and it's great!"

-----------

"Any suggestions to prevent bullying among students?"

"Yeah. How about we get rid of that useless 'Zero Tolerance Policy' and actually punish those students that were caught bullying others instead of punishing both the bully and the victim?"

"We can't do that, Maria."

"We damn well can do that! You just don't want to because you want to be a kiss ass to the parents of those bullies!"

"Any other suggestions?"

"Meu Deus!"

5:00 PM-5:50/6:00 PM - Clock out and travel to Isabella's music shop (travel time depends on traffic situation)

"Finally clocking out! Byeee!"

"Bye Maria!"

5:50/6:00 PM-7:00 PM - Hang out with Bella (visit the theatre if able and buy groceries if needed)

"And that's why I want to punch his face but my boss won't allow me because he's one of the biggest funders of the school."

"You're good with kids, Maria but not with parents."

"Considering our track record with parents, is that even a surprise, querida irmã?"

"Eu acho que não."

7:00 PM-7:20/7:40 PM - Head home (travel time depends on traffic situation)

"I...fucking...hate...traffic!"

7:20/7:40 PM-10:00PM - Nightly routine (take a bath, change into comfy clothes, have dinner, watch T.V./browse social media, get ready for bed)

"Hey! Stop stealing from my plate! You already finished yours!"

"But I want more and you only made enough for two!"

----------

"Do you remember that time where we got into a really heated argument over DC vs Marvel and we ended up making out after?"

"Yep."

"Good times."

10:00 PM-11:00 PM - Head to bed and sleep until the next day

"Can you not hog the blankets this time?"

"How about we just ditch the blanket and cuddle instead?"

"It's still cold, Maria! Cuddling won't be enough to prevent my balls from freezing!"

"I know of other ways I can prevent your balls from freezing~"

"Oh."

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

Mentioned Sixtended OC:

Isabella Trastámara belongs to @lexartsstuff

#six #six the musical #sixtended verse #maria trastámara (sixtended) #hal aragon (sixtended) #isabella trastámara (sixtended) #my post

[phykios]

honesty and promise me, co-written with @darkmagyk [read on ao3]

“I’m in love,” Piper tells her when she shows up for another fitting. “Have you seen the new Beyonce video?”

“I heard the song.” Annabeth says, “isn’t that enough?”

“God, your whole play-acting thing is too far if you’re pretending to not like Beyonce.”

“I never said that.” Annabeth holds up her hands, “I like the song. But I did not see the video.”

“Well, when you see it, you’ll be in love too, but I will fight you.”

Piper could be scrappy in a fight. But Annabeth had been a champion fencer in high school.

“Kidding!” Piper says at her look. “There’s plenty of them to go around.” She didn’t even start to drape fabric over Annabeth, pushing her onto a muslin covered couch, and then pulling the video on the TV. She didn’t have one of those voice control devices. Because she was friends with Leo, and he was pretty firm on them being evil. “But I do call dibs on the main guy. The CALVES. The thighs. He’s unreal.”

“That good?” Piper went all ways, though as of late she gravitated towards women more often than not, so this was some high praise indeed. 

“Unreal, I am telling you. Like, the hand of God came down and sculpted him personally out of marble.”

Already in her recent watch history, the thumbnail of the video greets them, the song title splashed across the TV screen, weaving between  a very, very familiar set of legs. 

Like, intimately familiar. 

In something of detached horror, she watches the camera pan up, lovingly lingering on every inch of bare skin, following the muscles of his calves (which were unreal) to his knees then his thighs (which Annabeth had spent almost too much time between now), up his torso and his chest (which she knew made for an excellent pillow) to Percy’s face, set in a firm, hard stare. 

And that fucking blue lipstick again. 

She can’t even focus on Beyonce herself, too distracted by the way her hand traces the length of Percy’s outstretched thigh held in perfect arabesque as she gracefully drapes herself over him, crooning softly into his ear.

Annabeth should do that next time. That’s her spot, after all. 

Tearing her eyes away from the screen even as Piper watches, enraptured, she slips out her phone, sending a quick, furious text. 

annabeth: BEYONCE???????

A minute, then he responds. 

percy: oh lol i didn’t realize that came out today 😁

percy: what’d you think?

annabeth: i think im going to kill you later

“Just look at him,” Piper says, pausing on Percy’s form, his arms outstretched, fingers placed delicately around a bar. “I mean--look at him!”

“Yeah,” she chuckles, maybe a little uneasy. “He’s alright I guess.”

Incredulous, Piper swivels her head. “Alright? Alright? Do you need your eyes checked?”

She just shrugs. 

Why is she being so weird about this? It’s just Piper. She’s trained to find symmetry and beauty in bodies. They’ve happily shared crushes and fixations plenty of times before, so why is Annabeth being so weird about Percy? It’s not like they’re… you know… dating or anything. Just hooking up a bit. 

Piper squints at her, then shrugs herself. “Fine. I don’t have time to get an answer out of you anyway. Come on.”

“Speaking of time,” Annabeth says, following Piper back into the kitchen studio, “I have to head out by 6:30.”

“Oh yeah?” Piper’s head is buried in her belt box, searching for the perfect accent. “What for?”

“I’ve got a show to catch.”

“Kind of early,” she says, pulling out something thin and silver. “Don’t you usually meet Thalia at the ass crack of midnight?”

“Well I kind of want to eat first.”

“Okay.” She cinches the belt around her waist, tight. “Then you’re going to have to help me with this skirt.”

***

Hands aching from hours of macrame, Annabeth walks up to the box office window at the Koch Theater at 7:46, having a handful of second thoughts. 

Old, uppity white couples keep shooting her some particularly intense passive aggressive glares, some of them even venturing into actually aggressive territory, which usually wouldn’t even register on her very short list of things to care about, except that she is feeling woefully out of place. The lady in front of her has ten pounds of diamonds hanging off of each old, wrinkly ear, and the best Annabeth could do was fish out her least-ripped pair of jeans, pairing it with one of her nicer black shirts, the sleeves long enough to cover most of her tattoos. The macrame kept her longer than she had meant, so she didn’t have time to change before dinner, but fuck it, right?

She did also take out most of her face jewelry on the way. But she left the nose stud, obviously. And the tongue piercing. And the industrial, because Percy really likes those, so she doesn’t feel that bad about it. And he hadn’t even told her about this until after she had already given herself the half-undercut, so it’s not like she could do anything about that either.

“Can I help you?” At least this box office worker isn’t giving her the stink-eye. 

“I’m here to pick up a ticket? Should be under ‘Jackson.’” He’d offered to leave it under her name, but this was safer. She doesn’t think her mom is a big ballet person, but she isn’t about to risk it, either.

She slides the ticket towards Annabeth beneath the glass plane. “Enjoy the show,” she says, with a quirk of her mouth that is surprisingly sincere for someone in customer service. 

She’s pretty sure she’d enjoy the show more if she weren’t panicking thinking about getting dirt on their fancy carpets. Her boots are clean, of course, and she doesn’t really care, but she doesn’t want to, like, embarrass Percy or whatever. She’d asked him if she should dress up, but he’d assured her otherwise. “No one’s going to care, I promise,” he’d told her the night before, her lounging in his bed while he did some pushups. “And if anyone says something, let me know and we can kick their ass after the show together.”

“Great. Guess I don’t have to break out the Chanel, then.”

He’d paused, frowned, then huffed a laugh, shaking his head. Like the idea of Annabeth wearing Chanel was hilarious. Like what she’s wearing tonight really is the best that she can do.

Self-consciousness isn’t really a feeling that Annabeth has anymore. She’s spent so many years chafing against expectations, shucking them off when she inevitably failed to meet them, desperate for a place, a crowd where she could just be. In her scene, she doesn’t have anything to prove to anyone, and when Percy is out with her, he doesn’t need any convincing. He likes her. He likes her a lot, she thinks. He likes her enough to let himself be dragged out to every shitty dive bar and shittier rock show in New York City, laughing and cheering and holding her close the whole time. He likes her enough to cart her to his apartment at 4 AM, inevitably waking Nico up from his undead slumber, and leave her with nothing but a glass of water and a kiss on the forehead. And she likes him, too--a lot. Annabeth likes Percy enough to ditch her band t-shirts for a night and track mud on the carpet of the Koch Theater and willingly sit through a performance of fucking Swan goddamn Lake of all things, and it’s only a little scary how much she is willing to do for him after only a few months of fucking him. Because this really isn’t her scene, not anymore. 

The weight of everyone’s stares bears down on her, threatening to crush her beneath them, a feeling she was so sure she’d left behind. 

At least Percy had been thoughtful enough to get her a ticket out of the way in the back of one of the balcony sections. It’s a bit of a hike, but the audience members aren’t dressed quite as nicely as the ones downstairs, and she feels like she can breathe a little easier.

She pulls out her phone, checking her text messages on instinct. There’s a selfie from Percy in his stage makeup (and she’s not going to lie… he looks fucking pretty), with his standard accompanying three blue heart emojis. She can’t help it, her heart skips a beat and she can’t help but smile, even as she rolls her eyes. She’s just about to send him something appropriately sarcastic when another text notification slides in. It’s from her father. 

Hi Annabeth… I was talking to a friend in Boston who said he's looking for a new 

prospective in his architecture firm. Passed your information along. 

Love you, dear

She swipes it away. Deletes the whole text conversation, for good measure. 

Forget about him. This night is about Percy.

A few minutes later, so engrossed in Percy’s program bio (it’s about all she can focus on right now), she doesn’t even notice everyone around her leaning forward in breathless anticipation, until the warm, honey-like sound of the oboe draws her head up. 

Roughly two minutes in, she’s really wishing she had attempted the synopsis. The extent of her knowledge of Swan Lake is a few half-remembered orchestra rehearsals in her teens and reading the Wikipedia article on that Natalie Portman movie a few months ago, and she definitely doesn’t recall there being anything about any Men-in-Tights looking motherfuckers prancing around. They’re sort of bobbing, back and forth, elegantly stepping from one side of the stage to another. Even from back here, she can see the delicate, precise placement of their hands, fingers curved just so, moving through space as though they aren’t bound by the laws of physics.

The fingers, she remembers. She could never get the hang of the fingers. Her old ballet teacher had given up on them after a week, and that had been the beginning of the end for that particular extracurricular. 

Now her fingers tap on her jeans, impatient, far faster than the easy going music on stage. She’s just about to give in to the millennial instinct and pull out her phone, maybe play a round of sudoku, when the dancers motion as one to the back corner, and Percy comes stepping out. His hair is perfectly slicked back, gelled down, any hint of curl beaten into submission, and his smile is small, but white, gleaming against the tanned brown of his skin. She can’t help but smile back, like he could somehow see her. Finally, she thinks, relaxing a little more into her seat. Something to watch.

On his off days, her off days, any day when she would spent the night at his (always at his, never at hers) and wake up wrapped in his comforter and the smell of seawater, she would take the blanket with her and steal into his living room, curl up on his couch with her feet tucked under her legs, and watch him dance. She’s seen him drill these sequences over, and over, and over again, counting furious sequences of sixes and eights beneath his breath in duet with the thuds of his feet on his floor. Most times he would notice her and shoot her a grin, granting her permission to observe the artist at work. Sometimes, though, he would be so caught up in his body, the shifting of his feet and the music in his head, that it was like he couldn’t see her at all. Seemingly alone, he would dance, uninhibited, and she would be struck by a feeling that she usually reserves for specific monuments. Watching Percy dance in his apartment, in his brown tights and black tank top, lost in his own world, is like looking at pictures of the Gateway Arch, or the Hoover Dam, or the Parthenon.

She searches for that feeling now, leaning forward in her seat, eyes hungrily raving his form, but she just doesn’t see it. It’s… honestly, it’s a little boring. She won’t lie. He had warned her it would be something of a slow start, but this isn’t exactly an ADHD friendly medium, and she is losing her patience, just a bit. He’s so reserved, like he’s holding something close to his chest, impersonal as he takes the hands of the female dancers and lets them twirl around him. 

Personally, Annabeth thinks that he looks kind of lost. Maybe he’s just nervous--it’s a big role and he’s a young guy. But he had seemed fine when he’d kissed her goodbye just after lunch. 

The court jester is killing it though. Feeling just the slightest bit guilty, she lets her eyes drift over to him, deciding to watch him for a while instead.

On some level, she does appreciate the skill on display here. Percy can raise his back leg in a perfect ninety degree angle that would make her architecture professors sweat. The girls drift back and forth across the stage on the tips of their toes, weightless and ethereal. It’s mesmerizing, and she lets herself be mesmerized.

Time must slip away from her, because she blinks and all of a sudden the stage has gone from sunny yellow to cool blue, the crowds of dancers having vanished. He is alone on stage. Percy kneels in a deep lunge that makes her thighs ache just looking at him (and for… other reasons), his arms and his attention pointed to the wings, with a… Annabeth squints. When the hell did he get a crossbow?

But everything is swept to the sides when the White Swan tiptoes her way on stage, impossibly graceful, and all of a sudden, Annabeth gets it. 

It feels a little cliche to say, but the way that woman moves on the floor really does remind her of those old, vintage jewelry boxes, suspended in animation, moved by some otherworldly force. It’s amazing. It’s a little terrifying. Sublime is the word that comes to mind as Annabeth watches her. Her arms move with fluidity, perfect curves, her fingers trailing behind her like wings. 

And Percy is just as mesmerized as Annabeth is. As the audience is. 

A few things hit her, in rapid succession. First, that Percy is, actually, a really good actor. His reticence before--he’d been playing a character. He’d been playing aloof and reserved and unmoored, because Percy--Siegfried--whatever--has been waiting his whole life for something to fulfill him, until this singular moment, the moment he laid eyes on this beautiful creature. Second, that she doesn’t need words to understand what’s going on. It’s all there, in every look and gesture and step, as the two characters circle each other, slowly but irrevocably falling in love. And third, that she recognizes the look on his face. It’s the look that Percy gives her when she has been talking for too long and he can’t get a word in edgewise, or when she screams along to the god awful underground bands, three beers in and missing every single fuck she’d ever had, or when she wakes up after him to Percy’s arms around her waist, her hair in his mouth and her head resting against his collarbone. She recognizes it, because that’s the look that Siegfried has for Odette. Because that’s the look that Percy has for Annabeth. Because he loves her.

And fourth, that that doesn’t make her as happy as she wishes it would. 

There’s a cold pit in her stomach for the rest of the show, a turning screw that twists in deeper, minute by minute, with every turn of the dancers. She wastes the next hour trying to puzzle this out, not even pretending to watch the drama unfolding on stage, because it makes no goddamn sense. (Her situation, not the ballet--she managed to skim the synopsis during intermission, her foot tapping incessantly against the blessedly empty seat in front of her.) Things are great between them. It’s been a heady, intoxicating four months, full of bubbles and butterflies, sweet, soft mornings, and some really, really phenomenal sex. This should make her happy. This should put her over the fucking moon, and she cannot, for the life of her, figure out why it doesn’t.

The prima ballerina comes back out as the Black Swan, just as poised and precise as her counterpart, but she’s a great actress as well, because there is something undeniably different about her. Her arms move like rubber, like joints are just an afterthought, wrapping themselves around Percy’s neck and shoulders. She misdirects his attention, drawing his eyes to her wrists, her clavicle, the curve of a leg or the point of her toe. Seducing him. Tricking him. 

Like Annabeth. 

Because try as she might to run from it, Annabeth isn’t who she says she is. She wants so desperately to be this fuck-the-rules, fight-the-power, punk rock princess that she took every part of her that didn’t fit that image and tried to rip it out of her, bloody and struggling. Her trust fund, her two (two!) Harvard degrees, her enriched childhood and her bright and shining future; she took it all out back and shot it, and prayed that would be the end of it. She’s a phony, just like that goddamn Black Swan. Percy is in love with a phony. 

Her sweet, wonderful, devastatingly kind and handsome Percy--she tricked him and made him fall in love with a mishmash of archetypes and aesthetics, distracting him with nose piercings and ripped t-shirts and ugly, deafening noise. 

She’s not surprised that she’s crying when the curtain falls. She’d never known that Siegfried and Odette both died at the end. 

When the cast reunites for curtain call, Percy is given a standing ovation, and Annabeth enthusiastically joins in, wiping the tears from her eyes, smearing her makeup. 

She doesn’t wait for him at the stage door, but sits on the steps of the theater, plucking at her sleeves, aching for a drink and wishing she had had the presence of mind to wear something a little nicer. Percy finds her there almost an hour after the show ended. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

In the dark of night, illuminated only by streetlamps, she can’t read his face--but she can read exhaustion, in every part of his body. “I was waiting for you by the stage door.”

Something in her stomach goes cold. “I… wasn’t sure if I was allowed,” she offers, weakly. 

He smiles, a light in the dark. “Of course you’re allowed,” he says, offering her a hand. “Shall we?”

She knows what will happen next. She’ll take his hand, and they’ll walk to the subway together, fingers intertwined. They’ll get on the 1 train headed north, and Percy will let her rest her head against him, tilting his head back against the window, eyes closed, almost asleep. The doorman will nod at them as they walk up to Nico’s apartment, barely batting an eye at his sweats and her ripped jeans, the two of them sticking out like a sore thumb in a sea of impeccably dressed rich New Yorkers. Nico will wave at them distractedly from his office, gulping down his sixth coffee of the night, and they’ll tiptoe into his room, falling asleep in each other’s arms with little more than a good night kiss. 

Which, of course, is exactly what does end up happening.

Almost. 

Annabeth crawls on top of him in his bed, kissing him soft and senseless. She doesn’t know where he’s getting this energy from, but she is not complaining as he slips up inside of her, the two of them rocking each other gently to orgasm, their foreheads pressed together. Shuddering as he comes, he captures her mouth in another kiss, pouring every ounce of love he has in him into her.

A waste, honestly. 

But as far as goodbye sex, it’s pretty damn great. 

She needs to end this, before either of them get hurt. It’s the least of what he deserves, after all. To put yourself out there, to offer yourself up like that, that might be the bravest thing Annabeth’s ever heard of, and surely, Annabeth can find the courage to do what needs to be done.

#whomp whomp!! #ballet au #pjo fic #my fic #percabeth #the rivalry ends here #darkmagyk #perseannabeth

[darker-soft-starker]

Starker High School AU, Pt. 2 (Pt. 1, Pt. 3, Pt. 4, Pt. 5)

-----

Peter will admit that during he took an extended moment during his journey home to grieve the loss of his free afternoon, and indeed the impending headaches.

And the rest of his future, if he was honest.

Not that Peter was prone to melancholy by any means, but with this assignment his fate was officially sealed, there was no misunderstanding. He was going to fail this assignment. He was going to, for the first time in his academic career, be forced to submit garbage of a caliber worthy of Tony Stark. It will forever be a black mark on his academic record.

No respectable college is going to accept him after this. In fact, he might as well drop out of school now and hit up Mr Delmar for a job. All of his prep for his MIT application is as good as useless after this. Extracurriculars? Goodbye.

Because it’s confirmed.

He’s doomed.

Swaying with the motions of the train, Peter types a text to Ned, the only person who might provide him with some much needed sympathy.

>  I’m doomed >  paired w/stark for an assignment lollllllllll.  >  help

Maybe Peter could trade with Ned. Maybe he could plead with their teacher, for honest fear of his life and scholastic integrity. He wasn’t even exaggerating. In no known iteration of this universe could Peter amicably work with Tony Stark. It would be like Harry Potter sitting down for tea with Voldemort, or Frodo and Sauron chilling with a pint and a pipe in Bag End. 

It was unthinkable. Implausible. Laughable.

And Peter would laugh, were it anyone but him in this situation.

The feeling is unusual. Never had he found reason in his life to truly dislike anybody before, everyone could be redeemed or given the opportunity for penance. Natasha has said more than once that Peter would offer the devil himself a sandwich if he appeared. 

Tony Stark on the other hand? No sandwich for him.

Well, maybe a slice of bread. A stale one.

While he waits for Ned to responds he catches sight of his injured reflection in the train window, which is admittedly pretty gnarly. Even with his hood drawn up, there was a noticeable berth allocated to him in the busy carriage between himself and the other passengers.

< sux. can I have ur lego hogwarts if u die?

> dude :( pity me.

< lol. so, can i?

Peter sighs.

> sure. Look after May for me, bro. delete my internet history.

< deal. godspeed

Pocketing his phone, Peter wonders if it’s too late to take up praying.

---

By the time he’s back in his apartment his mood has managed to swing back up.

Tony Stark is not going to be the arbiter of Peter’s fate. Hell no. He’s smart, he’s creative and hardworking - it isn’t up to anybody but Peter to determine his outcomes. If he has to do the assignment with Stark then he will. And he will work his hardest. 

If he has to do it sharing the credit with Stark, well, Peter knows a concession when he sees one.

No matter how reluctant he is.

But he powers through it, like ripping off a bandaid. It’s fine! He’s a Parker and he’s come this far in life already against ill, Parker-like odds. What was being paired for one assignment with someone who escaped the nearest hellmouth? 

It’ll be fine. 

Probably.

Not letting himself linger on his fears, Peter clears out his previous plans of going on a YouTube spiral and eating sour gummies until his teeth stick, instead utilising the time to get his foot in and and begins prepping for the assignment. Cursory, preliminary research at first, before the inevitable deep dive begins.

Neanderthal, Peter scoffs, mad all over again. Who is Stark to call Peter a neanderthal? He’s second in his class. He’s a straight A student. He likes school.

And as much as he is moderately skilled in, and enjoys JV, it’s not like he received his scholarship to study at Midtown based on his physical prowess.

The graze on his cheek that stings every time he yawns is proof of that.

Stark can eat his entire ass and choke on it, he thinks darkly, as he continues his research. He doesn’t know the first thing about Peter.

The data is sobering as he delves into job listings and statistics of his projected salary in a three year margin. This is really what his teachers earn? Wow. Depressing.

The contrast of expected salary versus the forecast of steep student loans is disheartening further still.

Teaching quietly slips from second to third on his list of ideal occupations.

Turning on a playlist on his phone, Peter continues to compile notes, amassing a truly gargantuan amount of tabs on his browser. His computer, old enough to be on its’ last teeth, whirrs loudly in protest.

It’s not until his room goes dark that he thinks to check the time.

Ah, shit. It’s nearly six.

Peter pauses. Should he tidy up the apartment?

...Nah, no point in breaking a sweat for Stark.

He continues typing. Then he hesitates, fingers suspended in mid-air. 

But what if Stark sees his unfolded laundry out on the dining table and publicly shames him for his old-but-comfortable Bulbasaur themed boxer shorts?

Goddamnit.

---

A quick, cursory clean ensues and leaves a relatively orderly Parker apartment. No freshly laundered underwear is in sight.

Peter wraps up just a few minutes before six. Right on time.

Taking a seat at the now clear dining table Peter drums his fingers on the surface and waits.

And waits.

And waits.

---

He knows when Tony finally arrives when he hears the sound of a car pulling up outside his apartment block. The riffs of a Roxette remix can be heard playing loudly  from the ground to the seventh floor of his apartment, the bass so thunderous it reverberates the windows all the way up to his floor.

Drumming his fingers on the kitchen table, Peter checks the wall clock again. It’s nearly seven.

Tony’s late.

Not that Peter is particularly affected with surprise that Tony is incapable of following basic instructions, but still. Really? Really?

By the time there is a knock on his door, Peter is already before it, his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face. Every second between Tony pulling up and his ascent to Peter’s floor has him positively fuming. He can’t believe how this day played out. It started with such promise. He had such innocuous, but high hopes.

Clearly, he miscalculated.

Feeling a touch petty, he waits to answer, listening to Stark knock a second and then a third, more insistent time before he rouses enough calm to open the door.

He instantly regrets it when he does. 

Tony’s expression is curious one as he breezes right passed Peter without waiting for further invitation. There’s a smudge of something dark on his brow, his otherwise white undershirt smeared in dark stains.

Peter watches incredulously as the other boy drops his backpack by the door with a thump.

“You’re late.”

He closes the door behind Tony and scowls at the other boys easy posture, hands shoved into his pockets, eyes taking in the apartment.

“I didn’t realise you lived all the way out in fucking Queens. Do you have any idea how bad traffic is at this time of day? Also, your elevator doesn’t work. I just climbed seven flights of stairs, where’s the hospitality?”

“Try earning it.”

The other boy rolls his eyes. “Like it’s worth my time.” He breezes past Peter and slides his leather jacket off his arms, tossing it atop of his backpack in the corner. “Look, I’m here now. Okay? You can unclench now. So, do I get a tour or what?”

“Or what. This wouldn’t have been an issue if we had just started straight after class like I said.”

“Oh I’m sorry,” Tony clutches his hands to his heart before gesturing to the room. “I didn’t realise I was interrupting your busy Friday night, Parker. You got a keg and the rest of the meatheads stashed away somewhere?”

Without waiting for a response, Tony wanders around the living room like a curious child in a new play room. His gaze inspects everything all at once, from peering at up close at the wall mounted photos and hovering his grubby hands over the oddments and knick-knacks speckled throughout the space.

Apprehensive, Peter can’t help but shadow him, afraid he just let loose a hurricane in a china shop.

Without asking, Tony picks up May’s old Magic 8-Ball and gives it a good shake. Peter’s fingers itch to reach over and stop him, but stops himself because then that would require actually making direct skin contact the other boy.

Not worth it.

“Cannot predict now. Huh,” Tony says to himself before placing the ball back in the wrong spot. 

They both watch silently as it rolls precariously close to the edge. 

“Anyways,” Tony helps himself to an armchair, lounging back and spreading his legs wide. “I know your long-term memory is probably as defective as the rest of you, so don’t strain yourself recalling that I had other priorities.”

“Like what?”

“Like literally anything that isn’t being around you,” the other boy grins. “Now, are we doing this thing, or did you invite me over so you could bitch at me?”

“I didn’t invite you,” Peter grumbles, swiping his notebook from the dining table before sitting on the sofa, as far away from Stark as possible. Shifting, he takes his phone from his pocket and opens the notes he’d taken earlier.

“So, I cross referenced some websites and current job listings,” Peter scrolls through his research, adjusting his glasses as they slip down his nose. “Assuming you have no savings, we’re looking at an average of sixty-thousand per annum based on my salary alone. The average rent in --”

“-- Uh, why are we assuming I have no savings?”

"Because... we’re being realistic?”

Tony springs to his feet and paces across the living room.

“Well,” he says, gesturing to Peter, “if we’re being realistic, does having no savings also that mean I have no debt -- or are you paying off two student loans on your salary?”

“I don’t --”

“Do we have car loans? Health insurance?”

“Wait, slow your roll, Stark. I haven’t yet --”

“-- Of course you haven’t. I mean really, Parker, do you ever think ahead? You should try it, we do have a baby on the way, you know.” Tony clicks his fingers and points at Peter. “Oh, names! I want to call it Molly.”

“As in the drug?” 

“No, as in Ringwald. Anyhoo, seeing as only one of us has the intellectual capacity to construct a budget,” Tony gestures to himself, “that would be me, consider maybe that I spent my savings paying off my student loans and bought a car for me and Miss Molly, leaving you with just your own stagnant debt. Happy?”

“Thrilled,” he says through clenched teeth, feeling utterly steamrolled. “But we’re not calling the baby Molly.”

“Yes, we are. Think of all the great nicknames. Hey wait,” Tony pauses in his pacing, “are your parents going to be home soon?”

It was in that moment Peters world narrows down to one, botched cosmic joke.

Turning his gaze heavenwards, Peter prays silently for mercy. What did he do to deserve this. This is all his bad karma come at once. This is the bad place.

“Ah, no,” he replies, eyes widening. “No, my parents are not going to be home soon.”

“Cool. Lucky you.”

Oblivious to Peter’s existential turmoil, Tony resumes his patrol through the living room, picking up a frame on the mantle. It houses an old photo of Ben, May and a young, bespectacled Peter. 

It is one of the more embarrassing immortalisations of his younger self, eleven-years old and grinning widely, bearing his silver braces to the camera as he holds up a science fair trophy, curls wild and untamed.

Oh god. That was exactly what Peter needed on this unholy day - Tony Stark in his living room, witnessing Peter in his prepubescent glory. 

Quick, create a diversion.

“So, as I was saying,” he says loudly, “rent is reasonably affordable with a sixty-thousand budget in --”

“Who’s the babe?” Tony points to a younger Aunt May in the photo.

Peter gets to his feet and removes the frame from Tony’s grasp. He glowers as he places it back on the mantle. 

“No one you would have a chance with. Can you stay focused? Like, are you physically capable of it?”

“Okay, calm down,” Tony holds his hands up in surrender. “You’ve got a lot of anger for someone so vertically challenged, you know that, shortstack?” 

“Focus, dumbass.”

“I’m focused! Let’s see, we’ve established that I am excellent at managing my money. You have a shitty job and a shitty salary, and apparently my imaginary future self has terrible taste in men. So. Have I got that right? Where are we living?”

“Queens. LIC has some one bed, one baths that could be affordable.”

“Uh, rewind. Going to have to eighty-six that - I am not living in Queens.”

Peter stares at him.

Tony rubs his hands over his face and sighs. “Fine, whatever. But I want a Pontiac Firebird in this imaginary life if I have to deal with you.”

“For someone so keen on getting away you’re doing your best to prolong this experience. It’s literally painful.”

“Well, I just like to see you get all riled up, Princess,” Tony grins, leaning back against the mantle and folding his arms over his chest. “You have this vein that bulges on your forehead when you’re mad. Makes you look like a pitbull.”

Peter swallows the particularly acidic retort sitting on his tongue and tries not to let Tony’s words sting. Be the bigger man, Ben used to say. As difficult as it is to channel even a modicum of the mans’ eternal patience, Peter takes a deep breath and reminds himself to stay focused. The less he gets sidetracked by Tony’s fuckery, the sooner it’s over.

He mentions the next part with unease. 

“...Miss Ahn said that we need references and should do field research. Speak to realtors. Ask people who have a similar lifestyle and budget.”

The look that comes over the other boys face is one of unequivocal revulsion. Peter can relate. The thought of having to spend more time with this guy makes his stomach turn.

“Well, Parker, any bright ideas who we can ask?”

The hinges of the front door squeaks before Peter can respond.

Moments after, Aunt May walks into the living room, placing her bag down on the dining table. She looks between the two boys curiously.

“Hey, Pete,” she comes to his side to squeezes his shoulder. “Who do we have here?”

Tony rushes over with his hand outstretched, an eager grin on his face. 

“Tony Stark, ma’am. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Oh, ah, okay, well,” May laughs as he enthusiastically shakes her hand. Her eyes are soft as Tony smiles brightly at her. “Nice to meet you too, Tony. I’m May, Peter’s aunt. Are you... friends with Peter?”

Peter snorts. 

“Definitely not. We just have an assignment --”

“-- Great friends, actually,” Tony talks over him, taking a seat beside Peter on the sofa. To Peter’s utter disgust, the other boy puts an arm around his shoulders, squeezing his bicep encouragingly. “Aren’t we, Pete? Hmm? Best buds. We go way back.”

Peter freezes, feeling the line of heat from Tony’s against his side, the weight of his arm on his body. 

Eyes widening, he feels his skin crawl. 

“That’s sweet,” May smiles, putting her hair up in a loose, messy bun. “Well, I don’t know about you boys, but I’m starving. I’m ordering pizza, Friday special. You should stay for dinner, Tony.”

Tony places his free hand on his chest.

“I would be honoured.”

May looks at Tony strangely before retreating to the kitchen to retrieve the menus.

As soon as she’s out of sight Tony takes his arm off Peter and quickly shifts away from him like he’s been burned. 

“Dude,” Peter whispers, bewildered. “What the fuck?”

“Oh my god,” Tony whispers, shuddering as his face scrunches up in disgust. “I’m going to have to pour scalding hot water on all the places your skin just touched me. Ugh, I feel like I just touched toe fungus.”

Peter slaps his arm.

“What is wrong with you?”

Tony backhands Peter’s arm in retaliation and then shudders all over again.

“Your aunt is crazy hot, okay, I couldn’t help myself. It was an instinctual reaction. Is she taken? C’mon. Vindicate me.” 

“I’ll eviscerate you --”

“-- I mean, clearly she married into the family, she doesn’t share your unfortunate phenotype, but I didn’t see a ring on her finger. So? Yes or no?”

“You’re unbelievable,” Peter hisses as his aunt comes back in. “She’s not available to you. Not now, not ever.”

“But she is available?”

“Don’t even, Stark. You’re like, sixteen. Don’t you have any shame?”

Tony smiles, as she nears. “Not a shred.”

“So,” May waves a menu at them. “You boys happy with pepperoni?”

Closing his eyes, Peter wishes for death.

As fate would have it, he gets pepperoni instead.

-----

If you had ever told Peter that he would be sitting down for dinner with his Aunt and a dirt-streaked Tony Stark, he would have laughed.

And if Peter were outside himself he would probably find the sharing of pizza and soda over their plastic, chequered table-cloth comical -- in that uncanny, Dogs Playing Poker kind of way. But in reality there was nothing funny about the discomfort of having Tony in his personal space or the heavy, suffocating tension that has removed the air from the room. 

The entire time Tony has been hamming it up, cracking jokes with his aunt, complimenting her on the decor, asking what she does for work. Peter doesn’t know if he’s being sweet to May for the purpose of buttering her up, or, given the wealth of his family in contrast to the Parkers, if he’s being cruelly facetious. 

Nonetheless, Peter has felt on edge. It’s disconcerting, is what it is. Every single movement Tony makes, every time he opens his mouth -- frequently to sweet-talk his aunt -- has Peter’s anxiety standing at attention, hyperaware of everything the other boy does.

He’s beginning to feel like a meerkat whose den has been invaded by a lion.

Through the course of a single meal Peter’s attention moves from the sky to the floor. There is no grace or higher power that is coming to save him from this profound, unusual torture. 

So he focuses his hopes to the south, seeing through their tiny, cramped, dinner table, past bargaining. He’s willing to trade his soul to end it all. Surely some wayward being from hell would come to his rescue. 

May has Peter’s chin between her fingers. She turns it this way and that, inspecting his injuries.

“What happened this time, bubby?” She frowns, brow furrowing. “You look like you got beat up.”

Peter, very aware of Tony’s amused gaze on them, gently pulls away from her grasp. He smiles placatingly and picks at his pizza slice. God he’s never going to live this down.

“Training accident. It’s okay, I feel fine. ‘Tis but a scratch,” he brings himself to joke.

“You sure?”

“Yep.”

She leans in to kiss his cheek, carefully avoiding the fresh scabs and injured flesh. “God, you bruise like a peach. Be careful, baby, you’re our money maker,” she laughs. “What about you Tony, do you play football?”

Tony, who is mid way through chewing on a mouthful of pizza, momentarily chokes, beating his chest with his fist to swallow down the obstruction.

“Uh, no,” Tony gulps, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Nope. No recreational sports for me. Can’t.” He gestures to his chest and sighs heavily. “Asthma.”

Peter sips his coke and rolls his eyes, knowing full well there’s a half-empty pack of Marlboro Light’s in the pocket of Tony’s jeans. Asthma. What a schmuck.

“That’s a shame. Do you boys have classes together?”

Unfortunately, Peter thinks.

The other boy seems to have the same thought, as he glares at Peter from over the table. When he picks up his can of coke, he gives Peter the finger outside of May’s eye-line.

“That’s why Tony’s here,” Peter twists his napkin in his grip. “We have an econ assignment together on microeconomics. Teach says Tony’s destined to be on welfare.”

Tony leans in, chin rested on his hand. He addresses May but his stare, dark and odious, rests on Peter.

“Not accurate. Stay-at-home parent, actually. One might say that is the most important job of all. Wouldn’t you agree, May?”

She raises her Coke.

“Hear, hear.”

Tony grins roguishly, the same grin he gave the girls at the lockers earlier. “Petey here was just saying that we should ask you about your experience running a household on a single salary. We’d love to have you as a reference.”

“Was I saying that?” Peter narrows his eyes. “I can’t remember.”

Tony kicks him under the table. The hit lands right in his knee cap.

Wincing, Peter kicks back, satisfied when the other boy bites his lip to hold back a pained groan.

“Yeah, well, not surprising,” Tony says airily, waving his hand. “Hit your head today, didn’t you? Maybe you should get all that damage looked into.”

The napkin rips in Peter’s grasp.

“Maybe you should go f--”

“I’d be more than happy to help with your assignment, boys,” May cuts in.

Whatever snide reply he has in his mouth instantly wilts when he looks over to his Aunt. She looks...pleased. Delighted, almost. Her eyes under the dull, yellow kitchen light seem to get warmer, and her smile is small but softens around the edges.

Instantly, Peter feels like the worst person in the world. Of course May would be the best person to ask. She does so much for him, the least he can do is set his pride aside for one moment to make her feel good about how hard she works for their life.

He reaches over to squeeze her hand, smiling as gratitude swells unexpectedly in his chest.

“Thanks, May. That would be great.”

Across the table, a smug Tony looks like the cat who got the cream. 

Without warning, Peter’s chest goes hot with contempt, his fingernails dig into his palm. He’s not sure he’s ever met anyone he couldn’t like, until now.

I hate you, Peter mouths while May busies herself with rounding up the pizza boxes.

Kiss my ass, Tony mouths back. 

In an instant his expression flips from contemptuous to angelic when he stands and offers to help May clean up.

Peter stands too, sparing a disdainful glance to the floor. Turns out not even the devil was willing to give him a hand.

Natasha was right. It’s going to end in murder.

---

Peter walks Tony to the door after dinner to say goodbye to his ‘friend’. Following him into the hall, Peter closes the door behind them.

“What do you want, Parker?” Tony asks wearily, retrieving a cigarette from his pocket. “I’m trying to make a getaway here.”

Peter crosses his arms over his chest. “Don’t do that with my aunt. I’m not joking, asshole. It’s not cool.”

“Relax, princess,” Tony rolls his eyes, fishing for his lighter in his backpack. “I’m not actually interested. Just trying to get under your skin. Worked, see? You’re easy like that. Hey, why do you live with your aunt anyways?”

“None of your business,” he frowns as Tony holds one hand up in surrender and lights his cigarette with the other. “Dude, you can’t smoke in here.”

“Can’t, shouldn’t, gonna. By the way, you’ve got sauce on your chin, it’s very distracting.”

Peter wipes at it without thinking. When he pulls it away there is indeed a smear of red sauce on his hand.

Tony walks backwards down the hall and exhales a cloud of smoke, waving in a sardonic imitation of a farewell.

“See you Monday, bubby.”

Peter doesn’t bother with a response, too tired from the week, exhausted by this whole darn day, and it’s not like the other boy cares what he has to say anyway. He takes a moment to swallow his anger before he heads back inside, sighing. 

Well, at least he has an entire weekend free of Stark to look forward to.

May looks at him curiously when he reemerges, but says nothing. He considers for a moment about heading to his bedroom and playing a video game to disassociate - but then, suddenly, remembers her smile earlier, and how alone she looks now. A surge of affection hits him right beneath his breastbone.

He checks his watch and then catches her eye.  Tilting his head towards the living room, he says, “Hey. You wanna eat some ice cream and watch some Colbert before bed?”

She smiles just like she did earlier and kisses his cheek. “Sounds nice, Pete.”

Maybe the whole day wasn’t lost.

As May heads to the sofa and switches the TV on, Peter catches sight of the Magic 8-Ball from the corner of his eye. He walks over and gives it a shake.

Outlook good.

*

*

----

tagging: @bylerboyfriends @ravens-starker-stuff, @starker-rays, @ironspiderstarker, @notfor-temporaryuse, @tabbycat1220, @sugarfreecult, @rebel13lion39, @muse-of-gods

#starker #ironspider #high school au #enemies to lovers

[candychronicles]

penpals // s. aizawa

A/N: My take on the pen pals collab! Hope you all enjoy! This one was fun to write since it was such a relaxed prompt.

CHARACTER PAIRING: Aizawa Shouta x Reader

WORD COUNT: 2,122

WARNINGS: unprotected sex, semi-public sex

SYNOPSIS: who knew making a new friend through post it notes could lead to so much more?

Want to read more smutty goodness? Click here !

the teacher’s lounge at UA high was nothing short of nice and fancy. low seated couches, plenty of table space with comfy chairs, all the amenities of a home kitchen, including a double wide refrigerator that often stacked lunches and various snacks. it was common knowledge that the earlier you went into the lounge that day, the better the lunch options were. you put your name on what lunch you want and have the satisfaction of a good meal in the afternoon.

on one particular day, you arrived early, wanting to get some grading in before the day started. it was only natural that you took a peek in the fridge, and found the most delectable little meal sitting front and center. you quickly wrote your name on the post-it note with glee and then sat down to start your morning grind.

when you arrived back in the lounge later that day, you had a bounce in your step, excited to get a break and eat something good, only to find out that someone had broken the sacred rule and stole the lunch from right under your nose. you huffed in frustration, eyeing the other teachers and faculty with a glare, trying to figure out who might’ve taken your food to no avail. you dug through your bag, finding a pen and your own pack of post-it notes, and wrote:

to whom it may concern,

i thought it was common knowledge

to not eat each other’s meals, but i 

guess i was mistaken. hope you 

enjoyed the food, because i 

certainly didn’t.

-(l/n) (y/n)

you slapped the note angrily on the front of the fridge and stormed out of the lounge, gaining quizzical stares from the passersbys. 

when you returned to the room the next day, you were surprised to find the note had been taken off the fridge and a new one replacing it. the note was written in small, fine scrawl, but looked sloppy, as if they were in a rush.

(l/n)

apologies for taking your lunch.

i have no excuse other than it

was my favorite food. hope you

can forgive me. check the fridge.

-your friend

you cocked your head before opening the door, finding a container with soba in it. you shrugged your shoulders, having already forgotten the transgression the night before, and dug into the noodles cold. instantly, you moaned, flavors exploding on your tongue like fireworks. 

after that incident, little notes would pop up on your office door here and there, chatting about school activities, school drama and rumors about both teachers and students. you thought it was endearing, having someone to chat with without the pressures of long conversations or proper social etiquette. they were funny, charming, complimentary without being creepy and overall someone you felt comfortable with, which was why you were dying to know who they really were.

you begged and begged in your notes, wanting them to tell you who they were, but they held out, only offering vague hints here and there about stuff that you couldn’t possibly know. 

it was only by absolute accident that you found out who your pen pal was. you had left your office to go to a class, and forgot your laptop, so you turned around, only to catch a glimpse of dark flowing hair and a white scarf.

your heart pounded in your chest as you read the note:

(y/n)

you looked especially beautiful today.

-your friend

Aizawa was my pen pal?

every man and woman with a pair of eyes could see how exceptionally attractive the teacher was. despite his gruff appearance and baggy clothes, he was extremely well built, with a toned chest and thick thighs, lean muscles and long, slender fingers. his quiet yet endearing love for his current class, his dedication to their learning and well being, while also still being a dangerous hero capable of damage, had heat pooling between your thighs just thinking about it.

unbeknownst to you, Aizawa watched your reaction from across the hall, watched the way your eyes blew wide, how your thighs rubbed together, how a blush crept up your neck to your cheeks, how your breathing quickened just slightly. it was enough for him to deduce that you were, without a doubt, affected by his note, and a smirk crept up the side of his face. oh how fun this will be.

the post it notes and letters kept coming, but this time they were more and more lewd, from simply describing how good you looked that day, to how good your skirt would look bunched up as his cock was stuffed inside of you. the notes never failed to make you dripping wet, and more times than not you had to relieve that ache between your legs the second you got home, fingers dipping in your juices, spreading them up to your clit, imagining how his long fingers would feel inside of you.

after a particularly long letter in which he wrote out in great detail how he would like to tie you up and fuck you senseless, you had enough, rushing to his office in a great hurry, ready to put an end to his constant tormet. 

you knocked on his door, a loud resounding thud echoing down the barren hallways. a few moments went by, and you had thought that he might not be in there, when the door slowly opened up, a relaxed Aizawa glancing at you through the crack he had created.

you pushed past him into the office, turning around with a stomp of your foot at looking up at him as he slowly closed the door and turned to face you.

“what do you think you are doing?” you questioned, voice firm and unwavering.

“what do you think you are doing? you did just storm into my office.”

“you know what i mean!”

“no, i don’t…” he deadpanned, moving to sit down in his chair, brushing past you ever so softly.

“the notes? they’re you, aren’t they?” you squeaked out, suddenly unsure of whether he was actually the culprit despite seeing him stick the note on your door with your own eyes.

“oh, yeah, those, what about them?”

“what about them? what about them?! th-they’re inappropriate! this is a school environment and y-you should not be writing things like that.”

“i liked seeing your reactions, liked seeing you thinking about my fingers deep inside your cunt, about my hands around your throat, how that sweet little blush would spread across your face.”

“you knew i knew… you knew i knew that you were the one writing me the letters. why didn’t you say anything? when did you figure it out?” you sputtered out, cheeks heating up in embarrassment.

he crooked one finger, motioning for you to come to him, and when you complied, he reached forward and whispered, “because it was fun.”

without warning, he pulled you haphazardly into his lap, capturing your lips in his own. you squealed against his lips, attempting to pull away out of sheer confusion, but he persisted, deepening the kiss and taking advantage of the situation to push his tongue into your mouth, allowing the wet muscle to explore every inch of your orifice. 

when you finally began responding, he hummed in approval, grasping your ass with his hand, squeezing tight and then slapping one cheek, rubbing it and then slapping again, this time harder, drinking in every moan and squeal that left your throat.

“Aizawa, we shouldn’t be doing this here. there are students, teachers, the principal could walk right in at any moment and see what we are doing,” you reasoned, pulling away with swollen lips and drool running down your chin.

“you’d like that, wouldn’t you? letting someone like All Might seen me ramming into you, watching your pretty little tits bounce up and down as i fuck you over this desk,” he teased, nibbling on your ear and moving his other hand not supporting your ass to dance between your thighs, rubbing circles and swirly motions up and down, moving dangerously closer to your aching pussy.

“we can’t get caught,” you pleaded again, trying but not really to get out of his grasp.

“sure we can’t,” he agreed, smirking your way before he helped you stand up, only to push your chest flat against the cool wooden desk, using his knee to spread your legs apart.

“you’ll just have to be quiet.”

his fingers made their way to your clit, rubbing circles through the soaked material of your panties, chuckling to himself at how vulnerable you looked, face down and spread out for him. his fingers continued their ministrations against your aching bud before he snapped the fabric taught against you, then began pulling the lacy material down your body, commanding you to step out of them.

you heard the rustling of fabric behind you as he worked himself out of his pants, the material pooling around his ankles, his cock hitting his soft shirt. fingers made their way back to your now exposed pussy, and he ran them up and down your folds before gently plunging one into your wet hole, the soft squelching sound being the only thing you could hear over your own beating heart.

you tried to be quiet, you really did, but when he curled his finger in just the right way, you moaned against the desk. a swift slap to your ass left a stinging feeling, a harsh reminder to stay silent or else.

he inserted another finger, and then another, relishing in the way you felt, so soft and sweet, panting and drooling against the dark timber of his desk. your body began trembling from your impending orgasm, but before you got a chance to enjoy enjoy the feeling of euphoria rushing over you, Aizawa pulled his fingers out and stuffed his cock inside of you, groaning at the feeling of your walls fluttering around his cock as your body rode out your first orgasm.

he started a quick pace, pounding in and out of you, holding onto your hips, silent but deadly as the steady piece of furniture kept you in place. soft pants and moans, the sloshing of your juices, accompanied by the groaning of the lumber, were the only things that could be heard in the room. 

he watched you with blown eyes as your body rocked against the counter, tits pressed deep into the wood, body rocking back and forth, your essence dripping down your legs, shaky and unsteady but oh so pretty. how your tongue peeked out from your mouth, your hair wrecked and clothes disheveled, skirt bunched up around your hips like he had written about only a few weeks before. it was pure bliss.

the anticipation of fucking you had been too much and he felt his release coming quickly, so he moved one hand down to your clit, rubbing harsh circles on your sensisitve nub.

with one particularly hard thrust, combined with the feeling of his fingers, you came with a cry, forgetting all about being quiet as you rode out your second orgasm of the day. he followed suit quickly, pulling out and blowing his load all over your ass, the white cream dripping down and slowly mixing with your own juices. 

he allowed himself a few moments to catch his breath, and then pulled a few tissues from his desk, wiping your ass thighs off, helping you to stand up and even bringing you some water.

when you finally came to your senses, your face grew bright red, realizing that you just fucked a coworker in his office during school hours where anyone could’ve walked in.

a knock startled you from your thoughts, and you both looked at each other, you in panic and him in amusement. you began fixing your hair and smoothing out your clothes, grabbing your bag and getting ready to rush out of the room, when you realized something was missing.

“Aizawa, where are my panties?” you hissed, clenching your legs in embarrassment.

he slyly pulled them out of his pocket and then stuffed them back in, going to the door and allowing the student, Iida Tenya, inside and then walked back to your side, gently escorting you out of the door.

“i’m keeping these so that you’ll have to come back to me and get them. oh, and call me Shouta. talk soon, kitten,” he whispered in your ear, pressing a discreet kiss to your forehead before closing the door.

“Mr. Aizawa, sir, why does it smell like sweat in here?”

“oh, just working out. got to keep in shape somehow.”

“makes sense! oh sir… your fly is down.”

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[rowanwhitethornisbae]

Faking It Ch 2

A/N: Thanks for all the love on chapter one! I’m defiantly going to make this at least ten chapters so buckle up haha. TW: Language 

Aelin couldn't remember when she’d lost count of the number of shots she’d taken. All she knew was that the alcohol coursing through her veins offered temporary relief from the breathtaking pain. The pain that had her sobbing so hard that she vomited her guts up each and every night. These pointless high school parties were her only escape from reality. Her parents were dead. Who gave a fuck about anything. Stumbling a little, Aelin made her way over the kitchen sink, prepared to vomit if need be. 

“Are you okay?” A low voice asked from behind her. 

“Fine.” She muttered and leaned against the counter for some semblance of balance.

“You don't look it.” The stranger said kindly. 

“Well isn't there some saying; Don’t judge a cover by its book or whatever.”

The mystery man laughed and Aelin finally lifted her head to look at him. He was handsome. So much so that if she hadn't already been leaning on something she might have swooned. His eyes were green, the colour of a pine tree in the dead of winter. The sleeves of his white shirt were rolled and a tattoo crawled down the length of his arm and decorated the edge of his collarbone. 

I like men with tattoos. She thought. 

“Thanks.” He said, laughing awkwardly under his breath. 

Oh shit. She avoided meeting his eye, instead landing her gaze upon his silver hair. 

“Do you dye your hair.” She asked casually. 

He seemed slightly taken aback, but smiled all the same. “No. Do you?” 

She gasped as if it was the most preposterous thing he could've said and ran a hand through her long blond hair. 

“I’d sooner eat snakes.” Aelin grinned.

“People all over the world do that voluntarily.” The green eyed man mused. 

An image of someone eating snake popped into her head and Aelin suddenly felt bile rise in her throat. Before she could vomit on the perfect stranger, she bolted from the kitchen and into a vacant bathroom. Gagging, she fell onto her knees and was violently ill. 

So gently that she barely even noticed, her hair was pulled back from her neck and shoulders as her stranger eased himself onto the cold tile beside her. When Aelin had finished vomiting, she wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and slumped against the wall. 

“Thanks.” She said, tying her hair into a messy bun with shaking hands.

“I’m Rowan.” He answered, extending a hand. 

For the first time in weeks, she felt a smile tug at the corner of her lips. 

“Aelin.” 

“Miss Galathynius are you even listening.” Her math teacher’s voice snapped her out of that very unwelcome flashback. 

“Do you want me to lie to you?” She asked, earning a few laughs from her classmates and an elbow to the ribs from Aedion. 

“Take a walk.” He snarled, and Aelin breathed a sigh of relief. She needed fresh air anyway. 

The hallway was practically empty, save a few students on their way to the bathroom, and Aelin started towards the side doors to the parking lot. She passed a locker that had been decorated for someone’s birthday. Streamers flowed down from the top, framing the collage of photos perfectly. The girl in question looked to be a freshman, with a bright smile on her face and eyes that screamed innocence. The things Aelin would do to go back to freshman year. To live with that lack of knowledge and trauma that she so desired. But she couldn't. 

She was rounding the last corner when something made her stop dead on her feet. There, leaning against the wall in a way she’d seen so many times before, was Chaol Westfall. Still, it wasn't the sight of him that send her heart into a flurry. It was the girl fiddling with her hair opposite him. It took Aelin a minute to recognize her. Nesryn Faliq, they had advanced chemistry together. She laughed at something Chaol said and reached out a hand to brush his arm. Shivers ran down Aelin’s spine at that hint of a touch. Chaol smiled back at Nesryn and leaned in to whisper something in her ear. 

Unable to watch anymore, Aelin turned on her heels and bolted to the women's bathroom. She was breathing too hard, her heart racing much too fast to be healthy. God this was an awful time to have a panic attack. Slowly, she managed to calm her breathing enough to splash water on her face. 

This was bad. Really fucking bad. They’d broken up barely 24 hours ago and Chaol was already flirting with the entire female population of Terrasen High. Fine, maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration.

Clearly Lysandra had been right. Aelin slumped down against the wall and curled her knees to her chest. She needed a rebound, and fast. Aelin pondered names as she ran her fingers through the grooves in the bathroom wall. Name after name came forward and she found herself subconsciously shooting them all down. 

Nox, Fenrys, Sam, Lorcan, Sartaq. None sounded right. 

In fact, the only one she could ever see herself with was Rowan Whitethorn. The silver haired senior who’s heart she’d held in her hands sophomore year. Held and crushed. She deserved every ounce of the hatred he had for her. 

Still, he wasn't a bad option. She knew he found her beautiful, he’d told her as much. The only problem was that he would never go for her again. People tended to put up a guard after having their heart shattered. 

Flirting with him would be futile and unfair. The only way she could ever get him to date her was if she gave him something in return. 

“Holy shit.” Aelin swore, jumping up so fast that she nearly hit her heat on the sink. 

If there was anything Aelin knew about Rowan, it was that he wanted to play on the football team. He’d gone on and on about it before. According to him, he had been deathly ill during tryouts and had ended up vomiting off the side after one hit. He’d begged and begged the coach to let him try out again but it was four years later and Rowan still wasn't on the team. Lorcan, Fenrys, Vaughn, and Gavriel all were and Rowan was half miserable because of it. 

There it was. A plan. She’d get him a tryout, somehow, and in exchange he would help her beat Chaol in whatever sick game they were playing. With a newfound purpose, Aelin washed her hands and walked back to math class.

Lunch. She’d make her move then. 

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

The cafeteria was mostly empty, a normal occurrence for Tuesday afternoons. The lunch provided was some weird crossover of meatloaf and mashed potatoes that had most students eating out. Unfortunately for Rowan, Fenrys had convinced them to eat in the cafeteria today in his attempts to stalk a blonde girl on spare in the lounge. 

Now, he was picking at his food as his friends discussed the football game tomorrow. Rowan was just beginning to think his day couldn't get any worse, when he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder. 

“Can I talk to you?” Someone asked from over his shoulder. He knew that voice. Had heard it in both his dreams and his nightmares. Rowan’s grip on his fork tightened and his knuckles went white. His foot began drumming against the floor as he braced himself for impact. Everyone else at the table was rapidly flicking their gaze between Aelin and Rowan. 

“No.” He said harshly, not daring to turn around. Rowan didn't think he’d have the will to deny her anything if he was forced to meet her eye. 

“Please.” Aelin pleaded. “I have something to say to you.” 

“Well that’s too fucking bad because I have nothing to say to you.” He responded, voice carefully exempt of any emotion. 

“Then just listen.” She begged. “If you don't like what I have to say than we can go back to ignoring each other like you wanted.” 

“I wasn't the one who wanted that.” He snapped before he could take it back. 

Rowan felt more than saw Aelin stiffen behind him. Lorcan was drumming his fingers on the table, as if prepared to hold Rowan back if called for. 

But it was Fenrys, the friend who was kind to everyone, who spoke. “I think you should go Aelin.” 

She swallowed audibly behind him. “Alright.” She relented. “I’ll be at the Starbucks during fourth for spare. Come find me if you want.”

Rowan didn't bother to nod. Instead, he gripped his fork harder, letting up only when the sound of retreating footsteps subsided. He looked up slowly to find all eyes on him.  

“So that just happened.” Lorcan mused. 

“Yes thank you so much for that observation.” Rowan sniped sarcastically. 

“Woah.” Lorcan replied, throwing up his arms in mock surrender. “You’re mad at Galathynius, not us remember.” 

“Whatever.” He mumbled and went back to picking at his food. After a few seconds he threw his fork on the table and let out a groan of frustration. 

“This food is the worst thing I have ever eaten in my entire life. It is terrible and horrible and fucked up and I have no idea what to do with it.” Rowan half-shouted. Heads swivelled in his direction and he ignored them. Judgement from people he didn't know was the least of his many concerns at the moment. 

“Is that supposed to be some sort of metaphor for your life?” Vaughn asked, dead serious. 

“Excuse me?” 

“Seriously Rowan. All I've heard for the last year and a half is Aelin Galathynius this and Aelin Galathynius that and now she’s finally speaking to you and you’re not going to do anything about it.” 

“I don't talk about her that much.” Rowan mumbled under his breath. Lorcan shot him a look as if to say “Yes. Yes you do.”

“I know I'm normally not one to get involved in deep shit, but Vaughn’s right. I’ve never seen you nearly as happy as you were for those few months in tenth. And honestly, what’s the worst that can happen. You hear what she has to say. You like it, great. You don't, fuck it and forget about her.” Rowan had never heard Fenrys speak for so long without sarcasm in his life. 

“To be fair,” Gavriel said, always the buffer. “We’ve also never seen Rowan as broken as he was after Aelin. Maybe the risk outweighs the reward on this one Fen.” 

Rowan didn't reply. He was too busy struggling to get the memory of those painful few weeks from his head. 

“Just talk to her man. Who gives two fucks it’s high school.” Despite being mainly in an attempt to end this conversation, Lorcan’s words made sense. It was just high school. In one more year he’d be out of this shit hole and hopefully across the world in Rithfold. Talking to Aelin was just one step along the way. 

“I’m going to.” He said, willing his tone to stay confident. 

“Great man.” Fen said, patting him on the back. He barely felt it though. Barely felt anything as the rest of the day passed by in a blur, his thoughts occupied by a beautiful blond haired girl. 

---------

It had been twenty minutes and Aelin was starting to think Rowan wasn't coming. In all honestly she should've expected that outcome from the beginning. Even though she understood, the way he had acted towards her at lunch had hurt more than she was willing to let on. 

Instead of wallowing in her own self pity, Aelin took a long sip from her coffee. It seared her tongue and burned her throat, the pain helping to ground her in a way nothing else ever could. She was picking at her fingernails, head down, when he arrived. 

A metal chair scraped against the cobblestone, a bird sung from a oak tree, a paper bag rustled in the wind, Aelin Galathynius blinked. That’s all she had time to do. One blink to compose herself before she was looking dead into the eyes of Rowan Whitethorn. 

She allowed herself a brief second to take him in up close. His high and defined cheekbones, perfectly crafted nose, striking green eyes, and silver hair had always made for a truly stunning combination. He looked the same as ever. Except he didn't. His eyes no longer possessed that unbridled joy and love that she’d seen whenever he looked at her. Instead he just looked done. Done with life and done with her. 

Aelin swallowed audibly and handed him a coffee. “Cream and sugar.” She smiled, trying to lighten the mood. 

Rowan’s hands tightened slightly. “You remembered.” It wasn't a question. After a brief moment of hesitation he accepted the coffee and went back to staring at the table. 

“What is this about Aelin?” He asked softly. Although his voice was gentle, his tone was hurt in a way anyone else would’ve missed. She hated that. Hated that now, even a year later she was still somehow hurting him. 

“So you know I broke up with Chaol. Or, he broke up with me.” She tried to keep the tremor out of her voice. Rowan nodded once, nearly imperceptibly, and she took that as a sign to continue. “Anyway, Lysandra says that I need a rebound and I need one first because Chaol is the one who broke up with me.”

Rowan’s eye flared with surprise and something else she couldn't place. “I won't be your rebound. Please don't disrespect me by asking.” 

Her heart nearly cracked open at the pain lingering in his words. “No no I would never.” Aelin paused for a brief moment to regain her bearings. “Here’s the thing. I don't want a rebound. I’ve been in a relationship for as long as I can remember and I'm in desperate need of a break. But, I’m also the most competitive person you'll ever meet. Like seriously it’s an issue, once -” 

“I know.” Rowan interrupted. “Once you sprained your ankle 8 km into a 10 k run and still finished first because you couldn't stand the thought of losing. You told me already.” 

Aelin just stared at him for a second, her chest unbearably tight. Rowan’s eyes looked her up and down and she could've sworn his eyes flashed in satisfaction at the pain written on her face. 

Not wanting to look at him anymore, she went on. “I figured maybe instead of me actually doing the whole dating thing, we could fake date.” 

She held out a hand as Rowan opened his mouth to protest. Begrudgingly, he restrained from commenting and gestured for her to go on. 

“That way I'd beat Chaol in whatever this is, I wouldn't have to answer everyone’s condolences on my being dumped, and I’d be saved from the whole post breakup dating fiasco.” 

Rowan’s voice was hoarser than before when he finally spoke. “What do I get out of this.” 

She took a deep breath in. “I’ll get you a football tryout.” 

His knee slammed into the table and Aelin couldn't help but flinch. His eyes were wide and lit up with hope. “Seriously? How the hell are you going to do that?” 

“I have a plan.” She tried to sound confident despite her growing doubt. 

Rowan let out a small laugh. “The last time you said that we ended up in the back of a police cruiser covered in raw eggs and paint.” 

Aelin’s face broke into smile and she began to laugh. For a moment she could almost pretend they were back in sophomore year, lying on Rowan’s lawn and watching the stars. Neither of them had known anything about constellations so they’d made things up based on what they looked like. By the end of the night, Aelin’s stomach hurt from laughing. She wondered when the last time she’d been that blissfuly happy was. 

Just as suddenly as they had arrived, their smiles and laughs died on their lips. An uncomfortable silence seized the air and Aelin began to play with the hair elastic on her wrist. 

After a few more seconds, Rowan cleared his throat. “I’ll do it.” He announced, although it sounded like he was still trying to convince himself.  

“Great.” Aelin smiled. “Why don't you come over tomorrow and we can work out logistics.” 

“Don’t you live with Aedion?” Rowan asked cautiously.

“Yeah but he’ll be at Ren’s place tomorrow for a project. I checked.” 

Rowan nodded slowly and rose from his chair. “Alright.” 

They stared at each other for a moment, Rowan standing and Aelin sitting. “I’m going to uh... go.” He said at last, severing the quickly brewing tension. 

Without waiting for answer, he turned and fled, leaving Aelin to do nothing but watch. So they were actually doing this now. What’s the worst that could go wrong? 

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