#Boss/Employee Relationship

[loveisanimaginarydagger3000]

Kinktober (11)- Power Imbalance

Boss Natasha X Employee Reader 18+

Summary: When you were called into your boss's office, you were expecting to be fired, not fucked on her desk.

Warnings/Tags: SMUT MDNI, Boss/Employee relationship, Fingering, Oral, Brief Spanking, Desk Sex, Multiple orgasms 

Kinktober Masterlist

“Miss Y/L/N,” you look up when you hear a woman say your name, a soft smile gracing her lips, “Miss Romanoff would like to see you in her office.” Fear ran through your body at the sympathetic look the woman gave you afterwards, your mind running a million miles an hour as you tried to figure out why your boss would want to see you in her office. When the woman turned and walked a few steps, looking over her shoulder at you expectantly making your eyes widen.

“N-now?” you stuttered out, not ready to face one of the most intimidating women you’ve ever met, especially when all your brain can think about is her firing you.

“Yes Miss Y/L/N, now,” there's a slight smile tugging at her lips, “I’d hurry if I were you, she doesn’t like to wait.” Papers go flying off your desk as you scramble out of your seat to catch up with the woman, following her confident stride with anxiety coursing through you. Once you reach the door with a sign saying Miss Romanoff, you take in a deep breath before turning to the woman for some support only to find her gone. Nervously, your knuckle raps against the door as you wait for a response, a professional ‘come in’ muffled by the door.

“Take a seat Miss Y/L/N,” she says to you without even looking away from her paperwork, fingers swiftly flicking through the pages before closing the file and turning her attention to you. You listen to her, an apology and mini speech ready in your mind in case she does fire you as you sit in the surprisingly comfortable seat. “I suppose you’re wondering why I called you in here?” Her tone is full of professionalism as she addresses you, her posture amazing as you try and not focus on the suit she’s wearing and how amazing she looks in it.

“Yes Miss Romanoff,” you manage out, feeling small under her intense gaze, a blush tinting your cheeks.

“Well, we’re here to discuss your work here at Avengers so far and what you have done,” your mind dreads what’s to come, you thinking you have horribly messed up all the paperwork you have done for the company so far. “Can you tell me when you handed in the completed file regarding the Strucker case?”

“Uh,” you search for the answer in your brain, taking a moment to remember fully what happened. You remembered staying after your shift had finished to complete the case file, being the last worker in the building to make sure you had it done a few days prior to the deadline. “I handed it in on the 5th, the deadline being the 10th,” you watch her reaction closely but to no avail as her face remains strictly professional.

“The Hydra case?”

“Handed in on the 11th but it was re-evaluated on the 12th, so um the 14th would be when it was handed in, the deadline being the 20th.” Your hands play with each other, a nervous habit you could never escape.

“Are you aware that the 11th and 12th was a weekend?”

“Yes?”

“Ok,” her fingers open the file once more, eyes scanning over the information present, “And what about the Ultron file?”

“Completed by the 25th, the deadline being the 30th,” she asks you many more questions regarding other cases you completed, your nerves building after every question.

“Are you also aware that you managed to complete eight high level priority cases within two months when it would have taken others at least three to four?” Your mouth parted at her words, your brows furrowing in confusion.

“No Miss Romanoff, I wasn’t,” you say, still a little confused.

“Well, you should be extremely impressed by yourself Miss Y/L/N,” a smile takes over your face at her compliment, your eyes watching her as she stands from her seat, walking around her desk until she could lean back on the front of it, standing directly in front of you now. “For doing so well, I have a little offer for you,” her tone drops an octave, the blush on your cheeks darkening as her green eyes look you up and down. “I can either shake your hand and congratulate you on your work, or I can find a more satisfactory way to thank you.” Her hands wrap around the metal arm rests of your seat, her body towering over yours as a wave of heat and arousal washes over you. “What will it be, Miss Y/L/N?”

You answer by slowly and cautiously leaning up to press your lips to hers, her hands cupping your jaw and tilting your head up to deepen the kiss. You moan into her mouth when her tongue slides across your bottom lip, seeking entrance to which you happily gave. Hesitantly, you placed your hands on her waist as she guided you out of the chair, spinning you around so your back hit her desk as her body pressed itself into yours. Her knee slotted between your legs, a groan escaping you at the action and breaking the kiss apart.

“Fuck,” you hear her sigh out, hands going to the back of your thigh and lifting you onto her desk. “Do you know how hard it’s been to resist you?” she pants out near your ear as she peppers kisses along your jaw, her hands sliding under your skirt and softly massaging the skin of your thighs. “My good, innocent little employee who’s so desperate to please?”

“Natasha,” you moan out, deciding to ignore formalities as you can feel her hand creeping high up your leg, fingertips ghosting your embarrassingly wet panties. “Please,” you can feel her smirk against the skin of your neck, her tongue licking a stripe up the column of your throat before she pulls back to look at you.

“Hush little one,” she rasps out, “Let me take care of you.” A whimper leaves your lips as she descends to her knees, a sultry smirk present on her face as she unzips your skirt and pulls the item off swiftly, your panties following suit. “You’re so wet for me,” she murmurs, kissing along your inner thighs to make your body throb with want and need for her.

“Please don’t tease me,” you whine out at the feeling of her warm breath fanning over your dripping core. She seems to take pity on you, mouth going straight to your clit and sucking gently, fingers running through your folds and gathering your wetness before effortlessly sliding into you. “Oh shit,” you moan out when her tongue swirls around your clit expertly, her fingers curling inside you perfectly as she hits all the right spots inside you.

Soon, she’s thrusting her fingers into you mercilessly, your knuckles bleeding white as you grip the edge of her desk for support, her tongue relentless on your sensitive clit. Your hands release the desk of their death grip, moving to tangle into her red locks. However, Natasha pulls back at this briefly and looks up at you, your arousal coating her lower face.

“Hands off Kotenok,” she husks out, the sound of her native tongue slipping from mouth makes you somehow even wetter. You listen to her words, moving your hands out of her hair and back to the poor table beneath you, mind clouding with pleasure as she adds another finger into you. It doesn’t take long for your orgasm to approach, her name falling off your lips like a chant as she continues to eat you out like she's starved.

“I’m gonna-” you cut yourself off with a scream, one of your hands clasping over your mouth to muffle the noise while the other instinctively goes to her hair once again as you come all over her mouth. She lets you ride out your orgasm before pulling back and letting her hand connect with your core, spanking your pussy making you cry out.

“I told you to keep your hands off,” her tone dangerously dominant as she looks up at you, sending a shiver down your spine. Her mouth goes back to your core, merciless as she listens to the pathetic noises that leave your lips as she drives you to another orgasm. Just as you're about to come again, she pulls back and spanks your core again, a guttural moan echoing around the room as she sends you straight into your second orgasm with the slap, body shaking on her desk. “Fuck, you like it when I spank you?” she taunts, standing up right and claiming your lips, “If I knew that I wouldn’t have hesitated to call you in here and bent you over my desk.”

“Please do,” you whimper out, her shaking her head softly and gently kissing you, letting you calm down after two intense orgasms.

“Not today little one,” she murmurs, “This was just meant to be a thank you but I got carried away.” You wish she would do it today but the rational part of you knew you shouldn’t rush into anymore, especially after only just finding out you liked to be spanked. “How about you have a meeting with me on Friday, we can discuss whatever you want?” Her hands comfort you by roaming your body before she helps you redress, a blush on your face as you anticipate what could happen.

“I’ll see you Friday, Miss Romanoff,” you say teasingly but before she can say anything else in response, the woman from earlier, who you realise is her secretary, knocks on the door to alert her of the meeting in a few moments.

“Don’t be a brat or maybe you’ll end up bent over this desk sooner than Friday,” she purrs into your ear, gathering the file from her desk and walking you to the door. “Enjoy the rest of your day Miss Y/L/N,” she softly says with a smile, you smiling in response before watching her walk away to the elevator, hips swaying subtly before looking over her shoulder to send a wink your way as the doors closed.

Only three more days till Friday…

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha fanfic #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha x reader #black widow #black widow x reader #smut #gxg smut #marvel smut #rough smut #boss/employee relationship #power imbalance #dom natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff oneshot #gxg #boss #employees #dom natasha #kinktober

[save-the-data]

JUN & JUN | S01E08

Korean Drama - 2023, 8 episodes

Episodes | Gaga | Viki | YouTube | iQIYI | WeTV | Tencent | Catalogue

#Jun and Jun #KDrama #Comedy #Gay Romance #Workplace Romance #Gay Male Lead #Boss/Employee Relationship #준과 준 #South Korea #Park Hyeong Seop #Jo Chan Hyun #Yang Jun Mo #Ki Hyun Woo #LGBTQ+ #Kiss Episode #Final Episode

[pinkykats-place]

(Todoroki Enji) Endeavor x Reader

Tumblr Fic Recommendations

Disclaimers!

Stories linked below are NOT mine.

The readers included are male, female and gn. Gif not mine.

Note: If you read any of these stories and like them please like, comment and/or reblog their work! 

Scar

Pairing: Todoroki Enji x Male Reader

Summary: gently stroking enji's scar after it heals and mumbling about how beautiful he looks,

Sugar Daddy!Enji x Sugar Baby!Male Reader

HEAT

Enji Todoroki x afab!Reader

Summary: Reader on period and daddy enji helps

Soft

Enji Todoroki x Chubby F!Reader

SMUT

TW: breeding kink, chubby reader, Enji carries reader, unprotected sex, mentions of pregnancy

Fire & Desire

Retired!Enji x Succubus!Reader 

Summary : former pro hero Endeavor needs some ass and accidentally summons the woman of his dreams who oddly resembles his new neighbor

Military au

General!Enji x Wife!Reader

Sex Pollen

Endeavor x gn!Reader

doting wife

Enji “endeavor” Todoroki x reader

Summary:  “Enji,” You said as you walked through the manor. It was summer and Enji wanted to put you something more traditional during these summer months. So you went through the halls of the manor in nothing bout a yukata decorated with flower and flames to signify who you belonged to. As if your round and active middle didn't give it away. 

Kinktober Day 04: Daddy (Daddy’s Little Girl)

Stepdad Enji x Stepdaughter Reader

Big Baby

Todoroki Enji x Male Reader

Come to Bed

Synopsis: You’d been working so hard lately you barely even noticed, working so late into the night you were hardly getting any sleep… of course Endeavor had to do something about it.

Do you still love me?

ather enji todoroki x son m!reader

♡ cw: incest, dubcon, angst, virginity loss, praise, daddy kink,  size kink, infantilization, implied age play, mentions of abuse

Moth to a Flame

Enji Todoroki x fem!Reader

Summary: boss/employee relationship

#reader insert recommendation #endeavor x reader #enji todoroki x reader #fanfic recommendation #tumblr fic recs #male reader inserets #female reader inserts #enji x fem reader #endeavor x male reader #enji todoroki x female reader #bnha x reader #boss/employee relationship #fic recs #reader insert smut #enji x reader #male reader inserts

[queerfanfiction]

Love Notes (Ch. 6)

Larissa Weems x musicteacher!Reader Thank you for being so supportive, even though it has been literal months since I have updated!! I will try to post a bit more regularly (but also who knows because depression is a bitch).

AO3 link

You decide to hop up and shower after Enid’s inadvertent pep talk, feeling more hopeful now than you have in days. After getting dressed and stocking the bathroom for recently arrived students, you head to Jericho. It’s time to finalize scavenger hunt plans. You don’t want to wait weeks and drag out the process through secret codes in your mixes.

Flowers were taken care of, thanks to your new acquaintance James. You had also created a few other clues but needed to access a few places, like the bookstore, in town to complete them. You try to push your latest trip with Larissa to Jericho from your mind as you begin jogging the wooded path from Nevermore grounds to the town square. The crisp spring air was welcomed, and hopefully you could use this time to clear your head. Besides, you didn’t want to check-out any vehicles to drive in case Larissa was nearby. Her quarters were right above the school’s scheduling office, and you weren’t ready to face her just yet.

Once you’re severely out of breath and think the pain in your side will topple you, you finally reach the outskirts of Jericho. Your pace slows, and you begin to map out a to-do list in your head. At the bookstore, you’ll need magazines and the clerk’s cooperation on the day of the scavenger hunt. At the flower shop, you’ll need to ensure James was able to secure lilies and might lend his labor in planting and arranging them. At the Weathervane, you will need to clue the new barista in on your plan. Since Tyler is now a guest of the state after everything went down a couple months ago, a new barista was hired. You two are friendly due to your aggressive kindness when they would accidentally make mistakes during training. You hated that people in town weren’t understanding of the realities of service work. Finally, you will need to visit city hall to ensure you don’t need a permit to occupy the public space around the fountain in the middle of the square.

As you check things off your list, you realize you still need a way to ensure Larissa makes it to the book store once in Jericho. You ponder this as you head back to Nevermore—this time at a reasonable pace. Once on the grounds, you cross through the courtyard to the dorms and see Enid giggling with Yoko. You smile softly at their carefree banter. It’s at this moment you have the idea to loop Enid into the scavenger hunt, especially since she had helped you put things into perspective when you were secluded away in your room. It’s also at this time that you know it would probably be a terrible idea to entrust Nevermore’s gossip queen with a secret regarding the school’s principal. Stumped at this conundrum, you trek up to your room to leaf through the magazines from the bookstore you bought.

You get to work creating the aspects needed to complete the scavenger hunt—a new mix CD, cut out letters, a fake newspaper crossword, and so on. After an hour or two, your energy and attention span begin to falter without food. Your eyes wander to the clock; with students back on the school’s campus, you could catch dinner before the cafeteria closes if you leave now. You toss on an oversized maroon cardigan and head downstairs.

As you wander, you wonder if Larissa will be tucked away in her office with dinner and wine like she usually is. You desperately missed the time you two would spend together. You also speculate about whether or not you two would stay friends if she rejected you. You think too highly of her to be sour if her heart does not feel the same magnetic tug that yours does.

—

The same morning as your talk with Enid, Larissa awoke in sweats. She normally regulated her body temperature well and wasn’t terribly affected by nightmares. She’d lived through enough monsters to not be effected by them in dreams. Recently, however, she had been agitated…fitful. She knew why, even though she tried to rationalize it away.

She didn’t have a lot of friendships, let alone close ones. Shapeshifters never do. That’s why she constantly worked so hard to change the perceptions of outcasts—both within and outside the community. Whatever she had with you, Larissa feared she had ruined it. At the beginning of her relationship with you, there was a feeling between you of treading carefully, of testing boundaries. When could you be silly or drop the professional façade? That hesitance quickly dissipated and was replaced with comfort and familiarity. Unfortunately, Larissa had learned to rely on it. She craved it. It balanced her. Letting others in didn’t come easily, yet it felt like you were meant to know her.

After giving it more thought, Larissa isn’t completely sure if seeing you flirt with someone made her lash out or if it was about being confronted with her own feelings for you. Regardless, the underlying fear came true—damaging her relationship with you.

Once her breathing steadied after waking, she peered around her room. Her living quarters used to feel so luxurious and private, something completely hers in a boarding school that constantly pulled her in so many directions. Now, though, all she can sense is emptiness in the space. Bitter echoes of joyous moments she had with you throughout the room lingered.

Not only did you vanish from her room and office, but she hadn’t visibly seen you since that day at the Weathervane. You were no where to be found these last couple weeks. Instead of regularly creating music in the orchestra room and popping into her office, the library, the conservatory, and student dorms, you had hidden away. She knows this, because she had asked around about you to various faculty (and even some students). Larissa’s schedule often took her throughout Nevermore, and she ached to catch a glimpse of you—check in on you in some way. It wasn’t until she stepped away from answering emails to drink tea on her balcony for a moment that she saw you. You were outside in the spring air, heading away from the school.

Larissa had never seen you in athletic clothing…mainly because you two had joked about running being a punishment, that it was often a mutually constituted performance by people who bought into traditional, often limited ideas of health. Of course, that’s not why seeing you stunned her.

Rather, her heart ached. She felt panicked, as if she should make a decision about what to do right then and there before you ran completely out of sight. With a deep, slow breath to hinder acting impulsively, Larissa began to consider her options. Is it better to swallow the hurt and try to salvage the friendship? Surely, only a friendship with you is better than being without you completely. Or would doing that and being close with no hope for a future together hurt worse? Could she handle seeing you with the florist all the time? Larissa sat her teacup down to rub her temples.

A distant knock at the door to her office pulled her away from her thoughts. She stepped inside and called for the visitor to enter. There was work to do, meetings to be held. Quickly and neatly compartmentalizing her thoughts and emotions, Larissa moved forward to greet the mayor.

—

You were in the orchestra room, arranging a new composition in preparation for the scavenger hunt. You couldn’t sleep now that you had decided on a course of action, so you decided to make use of the extra energy swirling in your stomach and radiating out through your arms and legs. Thankfully the dormitories were on the other side of Nevermore’s campus, meaning students could not overhear or be disturbed by your work. You don’t quite remember how you got across the grounds or what time you left your room. All you knew was that this was your time, your safe space.

All of the sudden you hear heels from down the corridor and know that it must be Larissa. Who else would it be? Sure enough, Larissa comes in. No hesitation in her approach. Your stomach flips, and you’re surprised she seems so confident and determined. No silk pajamas; she’s still in a work outfit. You can’t remember if you’ve seen it before. Her sense of purpose impelled you to lean the cello in your arms to it’s stand instead.

Her lips are on yours before logic can catch up with you, her hands cradling your face as if you’re something holy and sacred. You let out a surprised “mmph” but return the kiss eagerly, wrapping your arms around Larissa and inviting her closer. When your lips part ever so slightly, she deepens the kiss without delay. Her hands drift downward from your face to your neck to your arms to your outer thighs. You feel as if your heart is going to beat so quickly and become so enlarged that it will begin to break through your ribcage. Still, you wouldn’t stop this long-awaited union for anything.

Larissa’s swift hands had begun to pull you up into her arms, urging you to wrap your legs around her torso. You couldn’t bother with whether or not the cello was okay. After feeling her warmth against you, knowing she could feel the heat radiating from you too, both of your movements turned frantic. Your breath mimicked the raggedness it had from your run the other day.

“I want you. I want you. I need you.” Breathy declarations from Larissa ring out and ring throughout the room. In response, you bring her hand from the small of your back to your front, just under the edge of your shirt. The encouragement makes the taller woman whimper in between fervent kisses.

Suddenly, a deafening, reverberating crash sounds out.

Heart racing, sweaty, you jolt awake in your office chair in the orchestra room. Looking around anxiously, you see the cello you were playing on the ground, still vibrating. You must have was accidentally kicked it over in your sleep. The reddest blush plasters itself onto your cheeks. You were no stranger to dreaming of Larissa, but this is the first suggestive dream since she left you in the Weathervane. You didn’t even know someone could feel this embarrassed with no one else present. You’re alone and unsure of what time it is or what time you fell asleep after traipsing across campus. Only the quiet singing of birds outside indicated it was early morning. You normally frowned upon clocks in the classroom, but maybe you’ll rethink that now.

You look to the sheet music stand near you and find your phone. It’s dead. With a deep sigh, you gather your items and make your way to your living quarters. You need to confirm what time it is and change your clothes. Today is the day that you’re putting your scavenger hunt into motion.

—

Outside of Larissa’s office is a corkboard for Nevermore news, flyers, events, and so on that she checks daily. You post the anonymous note that serves as your first clue and fade into the stone wall behind you just as her office doors open and she steps out.

Larissa moved towards the board, not suspecting any terribly special memos pinned on a Saturday morning. Her eyebrows furrowed as she read the pasted together instructions. Larissa knew the mismatched lettering had to belong to whoever was gifting her the elaborate playlists. It was finally time to uncover the truth that she so desperately desired. She quickly glanced around to see if anyone was watching or leaving the area. …No one.

The patchwork note from cut-out magazine letters read, “Alas, it’s time to confess who I am. Come and find me if you can. I can skip but can’t walk. I’d rather sing than talk.”

A wild goose chase? Larissa considered. Truly, what can come of this? Just another CD with no confirmation of who this is? Even with her skepticism, Larissa was intrigued. She enjoyed conquering puzzles. There was something so satisfying about hunting down information and excavating the truth. With everything going on with you, Larissa welcomed a distraction, especially from someone who she considered herself to have a certain bond or connection with.

Snatching the clue from the board, Larissa retreated back to her office, abandoning her morning plans to roam among the grounds. I can skip but can’t walk…sing rather than talk…hm… Larissa mulled over the riddle. After a few moments, she can’t believe it took her this long to realize: CDs. Of course, it’s telling her to go back to the CDs. It’s where this all started. She walked over to her media player where one was already in place and started from track 1. Larissa felt as if she had committed the sounds and occasional lyrics to memory. How is there a clue here?

Pacing in front of her lit fireplace, Larissa fumbled haphazardly with the CD case in her hands as she listened with new intent. On the third turn around, her hand accidentally brushed off a sticky note that was placed on the back cover. “Wha-” she began while bending over to pick up the small piece of paper on the floor.

“Finish” she saw written on it. Finish what? A bit frustrated that she can’t make sense of the notation, she went to her desk to examine the other gifts. Sure enough, there were post-its on the backs of them as well. When read all together, they directed her to finish the newspaper crossword. Okay, so whoever this was definitely knew her routine. That’s not exactly breaking news, though. Larissa stepped out onto her balcony where she laid the newspaper next to her finished cup of tea. Flipping through to the crossword section, she saw a custom crossword tucked into the paper. In all honesty, she admired the dedication and thought that went into these clues.

Once she completed the crossword, it very obviously did not read out her admirer’s name like she had hoped. Rather, the answers prompted her to go to Jericho. Larissa pursed her lips, attempting to win against a budding smile as she shook her head. This is ridiculous. The final part of this clue spelling out Jericho also mentioned finding an outcast and a normie laughing together. Larissa didn’t know if she hated or loved that prospect, seeing as many Nevermore students had passes to Jericho this weekend. How many will be hanging out with a local, though? she asked herself while grabbing her overcoat and heading out the door.

—

“Alright, and what’s the plan?” you quizzed Enid on the ride over to Jericho.

In the passenger seat sat a wiggly werewolf who bounced her legs with excitement. In a singsong voice, she responded,“Hey now, give me some credit. I’m the one who suggested Lucas and I could give Principal Weems the next clue!”

“What if she asks who is orchestrating the scavenger hunt? How do I know you won’t crack under her prodding?” You narrow your eyes at her briefly before returning them to the road. You try to keep the tone light while still voicing your concerns.

With a small scoff, Enid confidently replies, “Please, one time Thing accidentally spilled nail polish on Wednesday’s typewriter, and I was an iron trap. If I can handle Wednesday Addams, I think I can handle Weems.” She ends the statement with her arms crossed, seemingly very proud of herself. To be fair, that was impressive. “Besides, I’m on the side of true love. This idea is so romantic!” Oh my god was all you could think to yourself at that statement. Once parked, you and Enid walk into the center of the square to wait for the normie component of this clue.

“What are we doing here again?” Lucas, the mayor’s son, questioned once he was in front of Enid. She sheepishly glanced at you and back to Lucas and then swiftly elbowed him in the side. It was kind of cute how seriously she was taking this.

You’ve done all you can do, so all you can do now is hope for the best. You put your hand on Enid’s shoulder and reassure her, “If you need anything, just give me a signal and excuse yourself. I’ll be watching from the Weathervane.” Well, mainly you’re reassuring yourself.

—

Once in Jericho, Larissa felt it an insurmountable task to search every store and outdoor area for the right outcast and normie. It didn’t help that she automatically parked in her usual spot, which happened to be by the flower shop. Getting out of her car, Larissa saw that very florist outside, pruning and watering plants. He noticed her and waved. She could feel a scowl on her lips, so she looked away, pretending to not have seen his friendly gesture. At least that’s one person that the admirer couldn’t be…

Having walked past the flower shop, Larissa cups her hands over her eyes to look inside Uriah’s Heap. She can’t imagine a normie having fun in the morbid antique shop, but she’s nothing if not thorough. After being satisfied that Uriah’s Heap did not contain her next clue, Larissa turned around to consider where to search next.

Before she can decide to go into another store, she sees Enid. Actually, she sees multiple Nevermore students. It’s a beautiful day, and many students want to make the most of their time before classes officially begin. Curiously, though, all of the other students are with Nevermore peers, and here is Enid with the mayor’s son. Larissa wouldn’t have pegged them to be friends.

Attempting to take control of the situation, Larissa came straight up to them. “Enid? Young Mr. Walker?”

“Principal Weems! Wow. Hi!”

For a brief moment, Larissa considered if running into them was a red herring. There was always a possibility that at a boarding school, the person sending her gifts and love notes could be a student with a harmless crush. Could Enid be the admirer? Larissa had always considered Enid to be like a daughter or menteé. She had felt protective of her, especially when Enid’s own mother made some questionable choices at the last parents’ weekend. Larissa pushed the thought to the furthest recesses of her mind; the person from those letters had a connection with her that no one else compared to. Well, almost no one else.

“What are you-” Larissa began but was cut off by Enid’s excited voice. “You should try to find the building with the most stories!”

“I assume this is the next clue?” Larissa stood in the familiar pose she often used to command attention. Combined with her height and immaculate dress, it simply wasn’t hard. “Enid, I’m terribly busy with finalizing spring semester contracts, schedules, and arrangements. I need to know who has enlisted your help. I know you know more than you are letting on.”

In an effort to be defiant, Enid asked, “What do you mean, Principal Weems? What help?” Her face gave her away, though. Her lips were pressed together firmly, as if she was attempting to hold back a grin.

Larissa considered escalating, but before she could, the young girl interrupted again with a determined look, “Remember, find the building with the most stories.” With that, she grabbed Lucas’s wrist and skipped off, pulling him behind her. All Larissa heard was next was a distant, “Byeeeeee, Principal Weems!”

Larissa is a bit surprised Enid could hold out, but the young werewolf’s evasiveness helped in that regard. Sitting underneath her gaze made Enid uncomfortable. Larissa remembers a time when she pressed the girl on Wednesday’s whereabouts the night Crackstone’s crypt flooded and the water was dyed red. Enid promptly confessed after Larissa put on a semi-firm voice and a stern look of disappointment.

Back to this never ending task of uncovering the identity of her secret admirer, Larissa thought. Bars have quite a lot of stories… The only bar in Jericho is the Rabbit’s Foot Tavern, and the only tales it holds are repetitive small town musings and desires to leave the town behind.

Though it seems like a long shot, it’s her only lead. As Larissa headed in the direction of the bar, she began to pass the bookstore. She only made it two more feet before she stopped in her tracks. There are thousands of stories there!

Feeling pleased with herself, she steps inside only to be met with a tired clerk that is paid too little to care about town shenanigans. The worker behind the counter gives Larissa a sticky note with specific numbers from the Dewey Decimal System. He doesn’t even look up from his phone. Larissa blinks slowly and gestures appreciatively before she heads to the 700s, somewhere in Arts & Recreation.

The “book” that she finds at the detailed location is actually a mix CD on the shelf disguised as a musicology textbook. Torn between feeling excited to have a new playlist and determined the find the next clue, Larissa pushes herself to continue and try to examine the cover, rather than only appreciating it. The track listing is unlike the previous CDs, so she begins to break down what she assumes is a code. Finally, Larissa cracks it: “Make a wish, but don’t take a drink.”

—

Once you watch Larissa disappear inside the bookstore, you leap into action. Hopefully you’ll have enough time to sit out all the lilies before she figures out the next clue. Thankfully, Enid offers to help (and makes Lucas assist). Even James briskly walks over with an armful of lilies. You appreciate the kind gestures and make a mental note to send everyone thank you after this is all over. You’re not sure how long it takes, but your calves and lower back ache from the manual labor. You all successfully sit out hundreds of lilies planted in recycled Weathervane cups. Thank goodness the new barista, Emily, was on board to save as many used paper cups as she could throughout her shifts over the week.

When Larissa makes her way to the town square fountain from the bookstore, you are safely back inside the Weathervane, becoming more and more anxious as you realize she is so close to finding out you’re completely smitten with her and have been keeping it from her. However, she stands at the fountain, unmoving, for much longer than anticipated.

Larissa did not expect this—the humble lily of the valley, her favorite flower. She had never been gifted them. When she was younger and pining after Morticia, Larissa remembered getting the other woman an entire slew of flowers. Dark, moody flowers. Orchids. Carnivorous plants. Anything she thought Morticia would like. In return, when Morticia asked about Larissa’s favorite flower, she ended up giving her lilies. Larissa thought lilies were beautiful, but she had always adored lily of the valley. It hurt that Morticia did not care enough to get her the correct flowers, because it symbolized so much more when it came to their relationship.

The lily of the valley is always overlooked, considered modest and unimposing. Of all people Larissa thought Morticia would appreciate that every single aspect of the flower is poisonous. Now Larissa is at a loss for who arranged this scavenger hunt, because she hasn’t told a soul about what this flower means to her in years. Before she can intervene, tears begin to fall from Larissa’s eyes, staining her face. Sitting on the edge of the fountain, surrounded by hundreds of lily of the valley, Larissa takes a few minutes to appreciate the flowers, almost as if she is mending her relationship to them.

After awhile, Larissa stands, smooths out the creases in the front of her clothes and takes a deep, filling breath in. As she can infer from the cups, the next stop is the Weathervane.

At the Weathervane, Larissa takes notice that it is unusually empty for a Saturday. She strolls around the counter and then the seating areas, examining the area for any clues. Her eyes glance quite a bit to the booth she normally shares with you. Nothing seems to be out of the ordinary except for the much smaller amount of people she would expect.

When Larissa internally questions if this is the wrong destination, the barista calls out “Larissa” and sits a mug in the “pick-up” area before going back to make the rest of the drinks in the queue. Scrawled on the cup are the words “sit where you are most comfortable.” That doesn’t seem like much of a clue, she surmises incredulously.

The task at hand proves to be more difficult than expected. Larissa looks to her regular booth, the one you two often shared. Is that where I am most comfortable? She wants to face the door, to surveil the inside of the café for any changes. However, she normally lets you sit in that direction; Larissa liked to have her focus on you instead of the bustling environment. Longing for that familiarity wins out, and Larissa takes a seat facing the back of the Weathervane.

No more clues. You knew that was the last one. Once Larissa sits in her usual spot, you phase through the back wall near the bulletin board. Astonished, the taller woman steps up and out of the seat with a slight gasp.

Before preparing to explain the past several months and your previously concealed ability, you proclaim, in what you hope is the most impressive way possible, “I’m sure you have a lot of questions, but you owe me a hot chocolate date.”

You slide into the booth opposite to Larissa, waiting for her to sit back down.

—

Tagging: @lilsmeaux, @suckerforcate, @rickistheman, @tundra1029, @aster-loves-gwen, @justcallmelittleone, @poorwritingandstalecoffee, @lvinhs, @one-pining-queer, @kimiinou, @bobia13, @gwendolinechristieiscute, @kay-liah-scope, @readingtheentrails, @a-queen-and-her-throne, @weemssapphic, @ctrlamira, @im-a-carnivorous-plant, @winterfireblond, @gwendolinechristiesnumberonegirl. Let me know if you'd like to be tagged or have your tag taken off future posts. :)

#love notes #chapter 6 #larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #principal weems #larissa x reader #principal larissa weems #wednesday #ao3 #fanfiction #gwendoline christie #music teacher #nevermore academy #boss/employee relationship #principal/teacher #mix cd #slow burn #mutual pining #angst #we have lift off!!!! #scavenger hunt

[vashieee12]

Art for kniveswood week day 5 on twitter!

#kniveswood #woodknives #kw #millions knives #nicholas d wolfwood #knives x wolfwood #trigun #trigun stampede #boss/employee relationship

[the-west-meadow]

Nowhere

Kendall Roy x Reader

tw: suicidal thoughts, verbal abuse, drug/alcohol abuse, drunk driving

As you stood in the shade of Connor’s patio, watching Logan and his children walk towards the old adobe church, Kendall’s absence was painfully apparent. You had grown used to seeing him at his father’s side. But he had not come with his family to New Mexico. It was a shame, you thought; he would have liked it here.

Greg, standing beside you in a long peacoat, waved as they disappeared behind the wooden church doors.

“What do you think they’re going to talk about?” Greg said.

“Years of suppressed trauma, maybe.”

“Wow. You think?”

You shrugged. “They probably won’t get around to it.”

You strolled back towards the house, where the others were sitting by the pool. Anyone who was not a child of Logan Roy had been left behind. Marcia, Tom, and Willa eyed you as you entered the house with Greg.

Greg leaned on the kitchen counter as you poured yourself a shot of whiskey from the mini-bar.

“Getting right to it, huh?” said Greg.

“You want some?”

“I’m good. It’s a little early for my system.”

Tom strolled into the kitchen, hands in his pockets.

“Hey, rascals. I see you breaking into the liquor stash. You should have invited me.”

“Well, you’re invited now,” joked Greg.

Tom leaned on the counter and grinned at you both.

“Here we are. The outcasts.”

“I’ll admit, I do feel kind of left out,” said Greg.

“God, wouldn’t you give anything to be a fly on the wall in that room? The whole thing is so uncomfortable it makes me want to puke. I love it.”

Your phone buzzed in your pocket. The name on the screen made your heart jump: Kendall Roy.

“Excuse me a second,” you said, slipping out of the kitchen.

“Is that a new lover?” Tom called after you. You jogged through the house to the room where you were staying and shut the door behind you.

“Hey, what’s up?” you said, keeping your voice low.

“Hey, Y/N. How you doing?”

“Surviving,” you said. “How are you?”

“Can you come meet me? I’m somewhere outside of Albuquerque.”

“What? When did you get here?”

“I’ll fill you in. Are you coming?”

“I’m at the ranch right now. I don’t have a car.”

“Can you figure something out?”

You thought fast, rubbing your forehead. “Yeah. I’ll take care of it.”

“You’re the best.”

You hung up, heart racing. You hadn’t heard from Kendall in weeks. He texted occasionally to check in, but it had been a long time since you heard his voice. It was a painful reminder of how much you had missed him lately.

Tom and Greg looked up as you walked into in the kitchen.

“What’s up?” Tom asked.

“Just a family thing,” you said.

“Oh, come on. You can’t have a personal life. There’s only work, work, work!”

Tom tossed back the rest of his drink and set his glass down.

“Okay, I’ll fuck off. Both of you come sit by the pool and save me from Marcia and Willa. I mean it.”

You and Greg watched until he was out the door, then Greg turned to you in anticipation.

“Well?”

“That was Kendall. He’s here.”

“Are you serious?”

“He wants me to meet him. But I don’t have a fucking car.”

“Right.” Greg glanced around as if looking for an answer. “Okay, I’m not supposed to know this, but there’s a collection of old cars in Connor’s garage. And, stupidly, all the keys are hanging on a rack in the garage. So if someone wanted to take one of those cars out for a drive while everyone was in therapy, I doubt anyone would notice for a few hours at least.”

“Cover for me. Make up a story.”

“Okay, yeah-“

But you were already gone.

You felt like a thief, skulking around the sides of the huge adobe ranch house, past the refurbished church and towards the unlocked garage. Lined up in the cool darkness were half a dozen vintage cars. Spotless. Expensive. Fueled up and ready to ride. You slowed down, taking your time to choose your ride. This was a once in a lifetime chance, after all. When Connor found out, you’d probably be banned from the state of New Mexico.

You chose an aqua 1967 Cadillac de Ville convertible. Sitting in the smooth leather seat, you watched with giddy panic as the garage door opened. Then you gunned it, kicking up a cloud of red dust as you escaped down the long ranch road from Connor’s estate.

The roads in New Mexico were long, straight, and empty. Gnarled barbed wire fences emerged from the scrublands, and distant mountains rolled beneath white clouds. It was the antithesis of what you were used to in New York. Here, everything was low to the ground, wild, free. You flew down the roads, the wind roaring all around you.

It was an hour’s drive to Albuquerque. You kept driving until you reached a diner in a small desert town beyond the city. When you rolled into the parking lot, you saw Kendall standing outside, smoking. Your heart swelled at the familiar sight of him. He stared as the aqua Cadillac parked squarely in front of him.

You cut the engine.

“Hey,” you called.

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

Kendall strolled up to the car, looking it over. Then he shook his head and let out a short laugh.

“Alright. Not really what I had in mind. But it’s cool.”

As he came closer, you were able to take a good look at him. He looked different. He was tan from the desert sun, dressed in a denim jacket and black jeans. His eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses. There was also an edginess, a restlessness to his movements that you didn’t recognize.

He dropped his cigarette, stepped on it, and put his hands in his pockets. You could feel him taking you in behind his dark shades.

“It’s good to see you,” he said.

“You too.”

“Let’s figure out a game plan. I feel like I just landed on an alien planet.”

You sat across from Kendall in the booth, squinting in the hard sunlight that slanted through the window. The waiter brought two mugs of hot coffee. You sipped it gratefully, feeling it nudge against your dull headache. As the waiter stepped away, you took in the sight of Kendall sitting across from you.

“How long have you been here?” you asked.

“A few days. Just clearing my head.”

“You seem good.”

“I feel good.” He sipped his coffee, eyeing you over the rim of his mug. “How have things been for you while I was gone?”

“I don’t know. I feel like I’m not getting anywhere. I don’t have many allies.”

“You and Greg seem pretty tight.”

“I guess so. You cling to each other for survival when you have an insane boss.”

“Pretty bad, huh?”

“It wasn’t this bad when you were around. You’re like a path through the insanity.”

“Well, thanks. But I’ve done plenty of fucked up things, too.”

“It’s different. This borders on abuse.”

Kendall looked alarmed. “Hold on, you don’t mean, like—“

“No, no. Nothing like that. Just psychological shit.”

“Are you okay, though?”

“I’m coping.”

“Meaning?”

“I’m drinking a lot more.”

Kendall nodded, still peering at you intently. “Uh-huh.”

You gazed into the steaming coffee for a moment before voicing the question that was on your mind.

“Does this mean you’re back?”

“I don’t know yet. I’m still working up the courage to see my family.”

He didn’t say any more. The waiter brought your food; huevos rancheros. Kendall stuck with coffee. He watched you dig in with a slight smile.

“You seem like you’re thriving here. Big blue Cadillac. Local cuisine.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “It’s very different here.”

“Seriously. I feel like never get to see the real you. We’re always under the cloud of my dad. You know what I mean?”

You nodded. ”Everyone’s been on eggshells around him this week. I don’t know how you live with it.”

“It’s fucking torture.”

He was smiling, but you could see the pain in his dark eyes.

“Are you going to eat anything?” you finally asked.

“Not that hungry. I guess the desert’s making an ascetic out of me.”

He smiled again and looked down at his hands, turning his sunglasses over and over. He hadn’t stopped fidgeting through the entire meal. You set your fork down and slid your empty plate to the side.

“Hey,” he said, “How long can you be away?”

“At least until someone notices the car is gone.”

“Come on. Let’s go somewhere.”

You drove the Cadillac as Kendall leaned back in the passenger seat, watching the desert fly past. An orange glow filled the sky as the sun sank lower.

“How far do you want to go tonight?” he asked.

Your heart skipped. “What are you asking?”

He laughed. “Jesus. Not like that. I mean how far do you want to drive? Mexico?”

“Are you serious?”

“I don’t know. Am I?”

You looked at him, and you still couldn’t tell. The sun was beginning to sink, casting long shadows on the black road. The mountains grew darker in the distance. Kendall leaned forward, peering out at the desert.

“Let’s stop up here for a second.”

You slowed the car, pulling to the side of the road. Low music drifted from the radio. You cut the engine, suddenly surrounded by a deafening silence. Kendall went very still, listening.

“This is a good place,” he said in a soft voice. He opened his door and started out. “Come on.”

You followed. Small jackrabbits leapt out of your way on the path, which was surrounded by yellow-flowering creosote. A low breeze set everything in motion; the shrubs, the sand, the furtive animals.

You climbed a low plateau that overlooked the sprawling desert. Kendall stood taking it all in. He pulled a small baggy from his pocket and flicked it with his fingernail. You watched in alarm as he dispensed a small amount onto the flesh of his thumb and sniffed sharply. His body seemed to relax. His expression grew lighter. He looked at you almost apologetically, as if awaiting your judgement.

“Yeah. Sorry. This is what I’ve really been doing.”

It was all starting to make sense. The restlessness, the edginess. The fact that he had been here for days without telling anyone.

“Shit, Kendall,” you murmured.

“I’m okay.”

“Are you, though?”

“Not really. You?”

You looked at his hands, which still held the bag of coke. Without a word, Kendall tapped out a rough line of powder onto the flesh of his thumb and offered it to you. You leaned forward, pressing one nostril closed, and snorted it off his hand. When you sat up, the world was reeling. The sunset had turned everything to flame. You looked at Kendall and smiled.

“I’m glad you came here,” you said.

“I’m sorry I left you alone with them. I just didn’t want to bring you down with me.”

“I’d rather work for you. I feel like I’m going to have a fucking panic attack when your dad comes into a room.”

“Now you know what my entire life’s been like.” He smiled. “If you’re not careful, you’ll turn into me.”

You turned to look at him. “But I admire you more than anyone.”

Kendall laughed. Tears slowly rose in his eyes.

“Wow. Never thought I’d hear those words.”

He sniffed, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

“I’m serious,” you said.

“You know, my dad never praises anyone. But everything I do is for him, just hoping that one day he’ll look up and say that I did a good job.”

You sat for a long time watching the sunset until the sky grew purple and dark. Eventually you wavered to your feet, then held out your hand for Kendall. With a big heave, you got him to his feet. He stumbled forward into your arms, then leaned heavily into you. You put your arms hesitantly on his back, feeling the dampness of his shirt. He rested his forehead on your shoulder.

“I missed you,” he said.

You squeezed your arms tighter around him.

“I missed you too.”

He quietly withdrew from your arms. You began to scramble down the plateau, busting your asses several times. By the time you reached the bottom, you were cracking up, covered in dirt. Kendall doubled over with laughter, his hands on his knees, wiping tears from his eyes. Then he looked up and smiled: that big, heart-melting smile.

Your heart suddenly grew warm, despite the oncoming desert cold. As you drove, you snuck a glance at Kendall. His face was turned towards the red sunset, glowing with happiness. A false happiness, you knew. But he deserved all that he could get.

As you pulled up the driveway to Connor’s ranch, you saw a tall figure running out to meet you. It was Greg. Kendall hopped out of the car and pulled Greg to him in a hug.

“What up, Greg?”

“Hey man, I’m really happy to see you but I also have bad news. Turns out those cars are highly precious to Connor. Also, Logan is pretty unhappy about the situation.”

“Does he know I’m here?” Kendall said.

“Well, yeah. It was hard to explain otherwise.”

“That’s what he’s unhappy about. My dad doesn’t give a shit about the car.”

Kendall started towards the house with you and Greg following close behind.

“Is he okay?” Greg said quietly.

You just shook your head. “I don’t think he should be here right now.”

It was cool and silent inside the adobe house. Then, the unmistakable boom of Logan’s voice shook the air.

“Where the fuck are they?”

Kendall seemed to waver in his tracks, then forged ahead towards the kitchen.

Everyone stood together, waiting. They fell silent as you entered the room.

“Has everyone resolved their familial issues?” Kendall said as he strolled forward.

“Jesus, is he high?” said Shiv.

“Are you blind?” said Roman. “He’s completely fucking wasted.”

Logan made a beeline for you, causing your heart to drop steeply.

“I should have you fucking arrested. Car theft, drug possession. What else?”

“Hey, fuck off,” Kendall said, stepping between you. “She was just doing what I asked.”

Logan’s eyes pierced through you. You couldn’t move, couldn’t escape the vice grip of his gaze.

“Don’t you know him better than that? You’re his fucking assistant, no?”

“Actually, she’s my assistant,” Tom said in a low voice, but Logan didn’t hear.

“Yeah, she got loaded with me,” Kendall said, raising his voice. “That’s because she’s my only friend in this shitstorm of a life.”

Logan turned to Kendall, looking him dead in the eye. “You don’t deserve a life.”

Then, jabbing a finger at you: “And you’re fucking fired.”

Logan turned and walked away. Kendall was still reeling from the blow his father had just delivered. He looked like he was about to fall over from the force of it.

“She doesn’t work for you!” Kendall managed.

“Technically, she works for me,” Tom said, still unnoticed.

“Then you get rid of her,” Logan said to Kendall. “She’s not good for you.”

Logan turned and stalked out of the room. Kendall just stared after him, shaking. Finally, he seemed to snap out of it.

“Come on,” he said to you. You followed as he stormed away, painfully aware of the stares of his family as you left.

“You got the keys?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Good. Get in that car.”

“Jesus, Kendall-“

“Then give them to me. They can say I stole it.”

You didn’t hesitate to toss him the keys. You hopped into the passenger’s seat. Kendall started the car, peeling down the ranch road with red dust glowing in the taillights.

Kendall tore down the straight desert road, headlights cutting through a thick darkness.

“I didn’t want my dad to hurt you.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. It’s the worst feeling in the world.”

He was silent as he continued to drive, eyes fixed ahead. Finally he spoke.

“Y/N, I am so sorry. This is my fault.”

You couldn’t argue that, but you also couldn’t blame him. “It’s okay. I’m just trying to figure out what I’m going to do.”

“Work for me,” he said.

You looked at him, trying to gauge if he was serious.

“It’s either that or go back to my dad, begging for a job.”

“I’m not doing that.”

“I know. So I’m rehiring you as my assistant. Actually, I’m promoting you to senior advisor.”

“What does that involve?”

“Getting drunk with me until we both forget the pain.”

You bought a bottle of tequila at a nearby ABC store in the next town, then stopped at the first motel you saw, a cheap but clean place called The Desert Flower. You were both crashing from the cocaine. Kendall’s eyes were bleary and red, his face dark with stubble. He was going down fast. You sat in the car, taking turns with the bottle, unable to even make it to the room.

“I’m sick of wanting to fucking die.”

“Kendall…”

“You heard him, right? He said I don’t deserve a life. That’s how he makes me feel. Every day.”

You heard his voice break. Tears streamed down his face.

“What would it take? For him to smile at me once, to pat me on the fucking back? What do I have to do?”

“I don’t think there’s anything you can do.”

He stared at you, and for a moment it looked like his entire world was crashing down around him. You saw the loss playing out behind his eyes as he realized the truth of your words. Then he leaned forward, put his hand on the back of your head, and kissed you.

You didn’t hesitate to respond. Everything was falling apart, but at least you could feel the warmth of him, his searching hands, his desperate mouth. You squeezed his wrist as his hand gripped your thigh. Then you both suddenly pulled back.

“Fuck,” he said. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“It’s okay. It’s okay.”

He was still holding your hand tightly. You wouldn’t let go. You both caught your breath, reeling from the touch.

“I need to go inside,” he said.

He leaned on your shoulder on the way into the room. When you got inside, he collapsed onto his knees, sobbing. You got down on the floor with him, stroking his back, trying to talk to him. But he didn’t seem to hear. He curled up on the floor, totally unresponsive, rocking himself as he wept.

You didn’t know what to do. The Kendall you knew was suddenly gone. You could only think of one ally who could still help you: Greg.

Need help, you texted.

Where are you?

You sent him the address of the motel. He responded immediately.

I’ll be there as soon as I can.

You finally got Kendall off the floor and onto the bed. He huddled there like a frightened child.

An hour passed. You heard a car pull up and saw headlights flare through the curtains. When you opened the door, Greg was sitting there in a red convertible. You laughed, unable to help it.

Greg got out of the car, looking completely out of place.

“Yeah, I know…” he sighed, looking at the car. “There aren’t many Ubers in the middle of nowhere.”

“Does anyone know?”

“Just Tom. He said he’d cover for me. So we’ll see how that goes.”

He peered past you into the room.

“How’s Kendall?”

“Not good.”

“What about you? You don’t look so good yourself.”

“I just need someone here to make sure one of us doesn’t die.”

“Okay, yeah. We should definitely try and prevent that.”

You moved aside, letting Greg through. Kendall was still curled on the bed, his head tucked into his arms.

You sat beside Greg on the edge of your bed, talking in low voices as you gazed at Kendall.

“What have you guys been doing?”

“A lot of coke and tequila.”

“Wow. So a pretty serious binge, then.”

“I think I’m in over my head.”

You gazed at Kendall, who had withdrawn so far into himself that you didn’t know if he was aware of your presence.

“I thought I could help him,” you said.

“That’s more than anyone else has done for him.”

“Why don’t they try to help him?”

“Honestly, I don’t think his family knows how to see him as a person. They only think of themselves.”

“Maybe it’s a good thing I got fired. I don’t know why I even want to work for them.”

“I frequently ask myself the same question. But even though they kind of suck, I still like them.”

“They’re your family.”

“That’s true.”

Greg looked thoughtful. “Then why do you stick around?”

You gave a slight nod towards Kendall’s sleeping form.

“I want to see him win. Not for anyone else. For himself.”

You couldn’t see it in the darkness, but a tear gathered in the corner of Kendall’s closed eye and slid down the bridge of his nose, then was gone.

Greg slept on the floor between your beds. You gave him half of your pillows and the top sheet of your bed.

Sometime in the night, both Greg and Kendall began to snore lightly. You could feel their resting forms in the darkness, the hum of the air conditioner, the traffic slowly streaming by outside. Cars rumbled in and out of the parking lot. Doors open and shut. Everything moved slow in the late hours of the night, the early morning.

They weren’t your family, but you loved them. You didn’t belong among them, but you had made a place for yourself in their lives. And they had become an inseparable part of yours. You held onto this thought as you waited out the long night.

It was early, and you were just beginning to fall asleep, when you heard vague sounds of movement in the room. You felt someone crawl into the bed with you. It was Kendall. He drew himself close, facing your curled form, mirroring it with his own body. He pressed his forehead against yours and reached pleadingly for your hands. You twined your fingers around his.

“Hey,” he whispered. He sounded as if he had been crying.

“Hey.”

You felt his hands for the first time, stroking them with your fingers. He held tightly to you, drawing himself as close as possible.

“Am I going to be okay?” he rasped.

You put your hand on the back of his head. He was shaking, tears dampening the pillow.

“I promise.”

You held him for a long time, until his breathing calmed and he finally stopped shaking. He never let go of your hands, never moved. Your knees touched, arms intertwined. When you opened your eyes, he was looking at you. Neither of you said anything. He stroked your hand with his thumb.

Greg groaned from the floor, and both of you went still, listening. Then you started to giggle.

“Where the fuck am I?” Greg mumbled, rolling over in his sheets, still half asleep.

Kendall snorted, and you shushed him, still trying not to laugh. You could still see tears in his eyes. But he was smiling.

#succession #kendall roy #kendall roy x reader #kendall roy/reader #kendall in new mexico #jeremy strong #tw: alcohol #tw: drugs #tw: verbal abuse #tw: suicidal thoughts #tw: drunk driving #boss/employee relationship #daddy issues

[weemsgay]

Love Notes (Ch. 3)

Another playlist included for these lovestruck dummies. Also, @coffeemelko had a great idea to have Larissa know the hospital staff had been calling Reader her partner, hehe. Thank you for letting me write that in! :)

Larissa Weems x musicteacher!Reader

AO3 link

Spotify link

Getting Larissa inside and settled proved a harder task than it would seem. She kept demanding to stop and confirm everything was in order after being away from the academy to recover. She tried to inspect the grounds and interrupt the groundskeeper. She was stopped by several students who she confirmed were okay and didn’t need anything. Larissa even attempted to gather faculty for a meeting.

Oh, you felt like a tired mom who's toddler kept grabbing at all manner of items in the store only for you to sit it back down and try again. Once in her office, she continued the behavior, striving to call the mayor. Finally, having enough of this, you say agitatedly, “Shhh, Larissa. Enough. Just let me take care of you.”

Larissa seems to take the hint and quiets down considerably.

“How about I start to get you settled in the bedroom while you peruse your email. Only peruse, okay? And just until I’m finished.”

Walking into Larissa’s bedroom to turn down her sheets and prepare the space, your thoughts wander to the mess you’ve gotten yourself into. With the abundance of time spent with Larissa over the weeks, you began to pick up on the various genres that she likes—from 80’s power ballads to modern classical arrangements of pop songs to elegant classical music.

What started out as an effort to fill Larissa’s day with music while she recovered turned into a desperate attempt to disclose your feelings for the woman. The next mix CD you already started to create began to expose how much you cherished the principal-turned-friend. Though…the idea of only friendship was the furthest thing from your mind. You considered the assortment of music you had planned for Larissa’s next surprise. Desire. Affection. Appreciation. Yearning. These emotions undoubtedly flickered throughout the collection, tying each song together. If only you could pick up the courage to sign your name to these love notes.

Is it too late? you ponder warily.

Stepping back into the office, you hear Larissa typing frantically. With a sigh, you march over to where you left her at her desk. You reach out to slowly close her laptop until both of your eyes lock. “Hello,” You utter softly. “Ready?”

Larissa couldn’t help but feel secure and thankful for someone to be taking care of her for a change. Normally, she would resent the charity or pity, but from you, it didn’t read as those things. She can’t even be frustrated to be pulled away from her laptop. Instead, she replied definitively, “Ready.”

—

You and Larissa gather on the bed with wine after you tuck her in (quite literally). You can’t remember the last time you slipped blankets around someone’s feet and sides to make them feel snug. She just seemed so carefree for a moment at the action, wiggling her feet back and forth once she was bundled. You couldn’t help but feel a wave of adoration for the woman, as well as gratitude to be one of the select few who has seen her guard down.

“Oh gods, how I have missed red wine,” moaned the silver-haired blonde, downing a glass before you were even able to get one yourself and accompany her in the bed. “Excuse you,” you gasped. “Save some for the rest of us!”

“You didn’t have to give up wine,” she emphasized, teasing you. Regardless, you refill her glass and decide to bring the bottle bedside instead.

“And you are lucky that I’m letting you drink at all your first night out of the hospital.”

Larissa feigned astonishment with wide eyes. Revealing some of her typical poise and filter weakening, she returns, “You’re not in charge of me, you know.” With a gentle roll of your eyes, you mutter a bit under your breath, “Tell that to the staff.”

Perplexed, as if she is trying to catch up, Larissa questions, “What was that?” She turns her body to face you—to try to focus her eyes on your expression.

You giggle and steady her hand that almost spills some of her wine on the pristine duvet below.

“Oh, nothing.” Larissa feels a bubbling desire to press you for more information. However, she is suddenly struck by how heavy her arms and body are. How comfy the sheets feel. How warm her cheeks are. How can someone’s tolerance plummet this quickly after not drinking? she wonders as her head spins.

When Larissa lays flat on her back to still her spinning head, you roll onto your side towards her and tenderly stroke her forehead and hairline to provide her some comfort. The soothing motion feels right…feels natural. Her shoulders relax a bit and her breathing begins to even out. You wonder if she has already fallen asleep.

A few minutes pass. Eventually, you hear a soft proclamation, “I didn’t correct them.” The sleepy voice continues, “It felt nice, and I thought it was you.”

Your mind races. Does she mean she didn’t correct the staff? Does this mean she knew the doctors and nurses thought you were her partner? That the idea of you being her partner felt nice? Or just having someone there for her at all felt nice? What does she mean that she thought it was me? The mix CD? It had to be that… After another moment, with a nervous and fluttering heart, you question, “How would you feel if it was me?”

To that, you receive silence. No response, only steady breathing. Asleep, it seems.

You continue petting Larissa’s head, not wanting to rescind your touch. Her skin was warm from the wine and soft under your caress. You two didn’t discuss sleeping over, and you’re nervous to overstep or make her feel uncomfortable. Maybe you could get away with a few hours of blissful sleep next to the other woman?

You wake slightly at Larissa’s shifting body flinging an arm over your waist and pulling you close. Your stomach flips, and you’re not sure if you can get back to sleep. You lie in Larissa’s bed syncing your breaths to hers and trying to commit the feeling of her body next to you to memory.

Once the morning light started to trickle in through a crack in Larissa’s green velvet curtains, you decided it was time to untangle yourself from her and take your leave. You quietly grabbed a few of your things and exited the principal’s living quarters and office, heading toward the faculty showers. Hot water against your skin might ease the ache you felt from Larissa’s absence.

—

You attempt to sleep but can’t, so you make some buttered toast to munch on while you work in the orchestra room, knowing no students will be up to bother you. Last night strengthened so many of the feelings you knew you had for Larissa. What if that’s the first and last time I share her bed? The intrusive thoughts threaten your sanity, and you attempt to replace them with selecting songs for her next mix CD.

After an hour of immersing yourself in how to convey your emotions perfectly, you feel sleepiness begin to take you. Satisfied, you drag your feet to your own bed and plop down to rest.

Many hours later, you are jolted awake by an excited knock at your door. You glance at your clock to see that it’s noon. Confused, you stand up and put your father’s old robe on. It’s always been a comfort item for you—the way it was slightly oversized and could be wrapped around you tightly. You make your way to the door.

“Enid? What’s wrong?” You implore with concern as you swing open the door and are met with eager eyes and a slight bouncing up and down. You glimpse behind her to see Wednesday standing idly by, exuding mostly nonchalance but with an edge of analysis.

“Nothing is wrong. Sorry. It’s just that Principal Weems wants to see you in her office. Isn’t it great she’s back? I can’t believe Ms. Thornhill turned out to not be Ms. Thornhill and that she poison-“ you begin to interrupt the sweet, rambling young werewolf. “Thank you, sweetie, for letting me know. If you don’t mind, I need to get dressed.” Understanding, even though she wants nothing more than to keep talking and ask about the time you and Principal Weems have been spending together, Enid steps back. “Okay, see ya!” Enid assures, turning around to slip her arm around Wednesday’s to attempt to skip off. You stare after the unlikely couple for a few seconds before taking a deep breath and closing the door.

You drag your feet getting ready; you’re not sure why you are so nervous to see Larissa. Okay, yes, you do. You can’t help but think, What if she is upset with me?

You push the thoughts from your head and travel downstairs. Standing outside her office, you take a breath to prepare and knock.

“Come in!”

You receive a rather large smile from Larissa as you enter her office. To your dismay, she is in her work chair behind the desk. Are you seriously trying to do work right now? You mull over voicing your thoughts. She interrupts, “Where did you go?” Almost all anxiety around overstepping last night had left your body as you saw Larissa choosing to not rest.

“I couldn’t sleep. What are you doing up at your desk?”

“As usual Wednesday’s assimilation is once again rocky. I just got off the phone with the temporary replacement therapist in Jericho. I need to repost the job advertisement…” Guilt overwhelms you. Rather than trying to scold her, you should be understanding. You move to stand by her and rest a comforting hand on her shoulder.

You hear her out and strategize a plan forward. After posting on a few education and counseling job boards, you stand and stretch—letting out a bigger yawn than anticipated. “Is that all?” you ask sympathetically.

“Oh, I didn’t want to see you for this. I wanted to apologize for falling asleep on you.” You blush a bit, disclosing, “No, no, not a problem. A cuddle was nice.”

It was the blonde’s turn to react puzzled. “Cuddle? I rather meant falling asleep early. Did we cuddle?” Larissa seemed to tease and had a lilt to her voice.

Mortified, you backtrack and stutter, “I-I’m not sure. Y-your comforter was heavenly, though. You’re lucky I don’t steal it as compensation for taking care of you.” A deep, throaty laugh sounds from Larissa. You two banter a bit before you retreat to her restroom attached to her living quarters.

Okay, so using the restroom was a ruse for slipping out and delivering her new mix and letter. This time you included a poem special to your heart.

You quickly lock the door and phase into the adjoining classroom on the other side of the wall. Making sure no one is watching, you slip out of the room towards the principal’s office door. Your knuckles rapt against the door three times before you slid the gift underneath and to the other side. You begin to hear heels coming closer in determination.

The door opens quickly, Larissa’s torso peering out, inspecting the hallways to find no one. You had immediately disappeared into the wall to return to the bathroom before Larissa could suspect you were missing. Her mind reviewed the many possibilities, It’s almost impossible to vanish that quickly with no trace. Vampires could not transfigure into bat form that abruptly. No ghosts were enrolled or employed. Powers of invisibility were rare and difficult to control… She turns, closes the door, and heads into the bedroom.

Coming out of the bathroom, you hear Larissa, “Look what I found.” “Oh, shit. Another mix CD? Who is it?”

The taller woman sits on the bed, perplexed. “I confess I don’t know.” Larissa’s disappointment shines through, only you don’t notice that it is due to your alibi and not the impending mystery.

—

After you make Larissa promise to stop working on emails and paperwork for the rest of the day, you depart for your own room.

As soon as you are out the door, Larissa is rummaging through files on everyone associated with Nevermore. All faculty, staff, and students self-disclosed their outcast status and abilities annually. Things are bound to develop and change as powers evolve, but there is no mention of any power that could reasonably explain the mix CD’s presence in the absence of its creator or deliverer.

Her hands wander over your file. You were an obvious choice for the open music position when Mr. Altone, your predecessor, retired. Your ability to manipulate sound and generate music was unparalleled, and you could even compose according to specific emotions or mental states. Before you applied to Nevermore, you were a successful composer and closeted outcast, somewhat of a musical theater sensation. Nothing listed here that would explain the delivery of the CD, but plenty to incriminate you in its very creation.

Resigned for the night after another hour of scouring the internet and her book collection for an explanation, Larissa decided to put on the new playlist. She had almost melted the first one from playing it on repeat until her CD player was hot to the touch.

Larissa pulled a chair towards her magnificent fireplace and waited for the music to envelope her. A sweet melody begins to play, and she is transported into a warm, dream-like state. Behind her eyelids, swirls of purples, blues, pinks, and reds dance and convey the emotions behind the carefully curated songs. Her heart swells. Larissa still has doubts about who is behind the mix CDs, but when the music fills her up, she imagines you. She hopes for you.

@lilsmeaux, @suckerforcate, @rickistheman, @tundra1029, @asterlovesgwen. Let me know if any of you don't want tagged anymore! :)

#love notes....get it?? #chapter 3 #larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #principal weems #larissa x reader #principal larissa weems #wednesday #ao3 #fanfiction #gwendoline christie #music teacher #nevermore academy #boss/employee relationship #principal/teacher #Spotify playlist #mix cd #slow burn #mutual pining

[skeptiquewrites]

Unfinished Friday

Tagged by @wolfpants to share an unfinished WIP. So many to choose from! I think about this fic often. It's the politics/workplace romance fic called Crossed Wires, where Harry is a politician, and Draco has been loaned from the Minister's office as his press secretary to get his act together. Therefore, cw: boss/employee romance for the snippet below. Going to tag @floydig @lqtraintracks @elskanellis @goblinmatriarch @kbrick @moonflower-rose to share if they'd like. Also if you particularly like being tagged, even if we've never spoken, please tell me I am always blanking on these.

—

Draco turned. Too close, too fast and did the one thing Harry hadn’t expected. Draco reached forward and kissed him. Tentative, then with more certainty than Harry expected, a kiss that lit up everything inside him.

The part of Harry that had come up with a reasonable explanation for every time Draco looked at him just a beat too long, for the way he felt around him, for the endless curiosity about anything that might be remotely personal, had gone silent. 

Draco opened to him like it was nothing, like the continuation of all their conversations led to this, Draco's hand in his hair and Harry's tongue in his mouth. He kissed exactly how Harry had always imagined he would, like an absolutely filthy indulgence.

When Draco stepped away, Harry felt the urge to put fingertips up to his lips to check he hadn’t slipped sideways into a daydream, that he hadn’t projected his wanting so much it became real. 

“That was a mistake,” Draco said, with some emotion Harry couldn’t pinpoint. “I shouldn’t have.”

“It didn’t feel like a mistake.”

“Secretary—”

“Harry. You’ve never called me Secretary before, no use in starting now.”

Someone knocked on the door, and Draco took the opportunity to flee with a curt ‘sir.’

#drarry wip #unfinished fridays #boss/employee relationship #tbh I think this is one of my WIPs that would benefit from either a cowriter or a refusal to reread my own work #crossed wires

[scribbling-punk]

Alternative Action - 3.

After a night of tossing and turning and squirming, Ryan makes it to work fifteen minutes early—a record for her—and rushes straight to her new desk outside Miss Winters’ office. Miss Winters is already there, casually leaning against the door frame as she chats to one of the other assistants, a smile briefly spreading her lips when those pretty green eyes spot Ryan’s arrival.

Ryan can feel her watching her as she gets settled behind her desk and it’s clear she is no longer listening to a single word the assistant is saying to her.

Charlotte’s gaze burns holes into the back of Ryan’s head, Ryan blushing profusely beneath the intense attention as the memory of yesterday dampens her inner thighs.

Ryan actively avoids looking back at her boss and turns her monitor on, sighing when she catches sight of her reflection on the screen. She looks exhausted and no amount of make-up can hide that fact. The little sleep she did get last night had been infiltrated with dreams of Charlotte Winters. While her ass had recovered from the light spanking, it’s clear that Ryan’s mind certainly hasn’t.

She doubts that it ever truly will.

Ryan just can’t get Miss Winters out of her mind and her vibrator just didn’t cut it last night. It helped for a little while, scratching an itch, but it didn’t take too long for Ryan’s mind—and fingers—to wander once again, left hot and bored; entirely unsatisfied when her alarm finally blared out into the silence.

She's not going to fare much better today, it seems.

Miss Winters looks good.

Her well fitted pantsuit hugs her curves and it takes all of Ryan’s self control to stop herself from staring. Instead, she attempts to focus on her email box, her heart suddenly hammering wildly within her chest.

“Miss Larson?” Miss Winters calls out to her and Ryan’s head instantly jerks upwards, not at all subtle in the way she checks the older woman out. It is noticed, a dark brow hitching upwards, but Ryan can't force even a single syllable to the tip of her tongue in order to offer an apology.

"May I have a word, please?"

Miss Winters inclines her head towards the inside of her office and Ryan almost trips over her own feet in her haste to comply, completely missing the endeared smile that briefly ghosts across her boss’ lips.

Read chapters 1 to 3 of Alternative Action only on Patreon.

#alternative action #ryan x charlotte #original characters #mdlg themes #patreon exclusive #boss/employee relationship

[263adder]

Run to You

Fandom: Kinnporsche the Series Summary: An alternative to the start of episode 5. Word Count: 2586 AO3 link here.

Awaking with a jolt, the fog briefly clearing from his mind with the sudden rush of adrenaline, Porsche’s head shot up from the pillow. It took a moment for his mind to catch up with his senses and identify what had finally dragged him out of his dreams. There was warm air blowing over the icy skin at the back of his neck. His hand moved there, wondering if a window had been left open.

With a glance over his shoulder he was met by an unfamiliar sight: Kinn, fast asleep. He was incredibly close, robe brushing against Porsche’s bare back, breath fanning against him, and his presence threw him for a moment. Unlike his morning with Pete, after the night Kinn had kissed him, it didn’t take long to remember what had transpired between them. On both occasions, a part of him wished he hadn’t.

As if their working relationship wasn’t complicated enough. As if he weren’t already living in perpetual danger from Kinn’s work.

Who had drugged him? Who had tried to…

Porsche shuddered. The man was a blur but he clearly remembered the harm he had threatened to inflict. If it hadn’t been for Kinn, he might not have woken up at all.

If it weren’t for Kinn he might not have woken up so sore, he amended wryly.

Frustratingly, their night together wasn’t as memorable as the threat of violence from his abductor. The fear had been strong enough to permeate the drug’s effects. With Kinn all he could remember was their skin meeting, being kissed until his lungs felt dry, a point of pain being met with soothing pleasure. Words were lost, however, to the muddled mess that remained of his brain.

He needed more sleep but that would mean lying back down with the man beside him. His boss who had once kidnapped him as well. Kinn. That infuriating, smug, egotistical, confusing, dangerous bastard. Heir to the major family. Enemy of the minor family. The kind of person he wouldn’t want Porchay within a mile of. A man who was determined to take his mind, soul and body. If he laid back down, would Porsche be handing it to him? Did he want to?

Both times Kinn and he had been intimate, Porsche was inebriated. Was that the reason for them coming together? He couldn’t be sure, and neither did he believe that Kinn would be forthcoming about any changes to their relationship. If Porsche got up and left now, Kinn likely wouldn’t acknowledge what had happened. He’d only made veiled attempts to the kiss, ones Porsche finally understood.

He should go. Keep what remained of his dignity.

Trying to push himself further up, however, his head swam. With a surprised gasp, his arms gave way and he fell back onto the pillow. The small shake of the mattress was ready to pull Kinn, always vigilant, from his slumber.

“Porsche?” He said, immediately demanding. Porsche would roll his eyes if he weren’t concerned about vomiting. He was so bossy. “Are you all right?”

Propping himself over Porsche’s prone body, Kinn searched his face.

“Do you need anything? Water? Painkillers? Pete is patrolling the floor, I could get him…”

Porsche weakly batted him away.

“Stop talking.” He muttered.

Kinn’s mouth pressed into a hard line, clearly dissatisfied with the request but too apologetic to refuse.

Taking a few deep breaths, Porsche waited for his vision to stop wavering before he attempted to sit up again; Kinn’s hands were there with him, waiting to catch if necessary.

Again, Porsche pushed his hands away.

“I’m fine, stop hovering.”

Taking that as an invitation to speak again, Kinn was quick to disagree. “You’re whiter than the sheets. And your hands are cold.”

“They’re not.”

Snatching them up in his own, Kinn instantly disproved him. His skin felt like fire in comparison.

“You should get back under the covers. Stay warm. I’ll send Pete to buy some clothes that will fit you.”

“I have clothes.” Porsche said.

“Not here.”

Frowning, Porsche disagreed again. “What I was wearing last night…”

“You can’t wear that.”

“Why not?”

Kinn withdrew to his side of the bed. “They’re ruined.”

With that curt response, he tightened the sash around his robe and went for his phone. He was soon barking orders to whoever was on the other end, taking the call with him into the bathroom.

It didn’t take long for Porsche to try and get up again. He was sure his clothes were somewhere, or at least there would be a second robe. Staying in bed, exposed, didn’t feel like an option so he pushed through the wave of nausea that threatened as soon as he swung his feet onto the floor. Dragging the sheet with him in attempt to save some of his modesty, despite baring everything to Kinn already, Porsche hoisted himself up.

His clothes were strewn in a pile, unlike Kinn’s which were neatly folded.

Tutting, Porsche leaned his hip against the bedpost for balance as he pulled his vest and underwear on. There was an unpleasant odour lingering on the fabric, a scent he couldn’t quite place, but that wasn’t enough to stop him. He couldn’t stay in this room, naked in too many ways.

He had one arm in his shirt when Kinn skulked up on him.

“No.”

Reflexes slow, he almost fell from the shock of his voice, but a hand clenched around his arm and held him upright. The other immediately started pulling his shirt off.

“Stop that.” Porsche complained, trying to prise himself away.

“I told you it was ruined.” Kinn snapped, successfully dragging it away from his weak grasp.

“It’s fine.” He said, still reaching for it. “No one cares if my shirt is wrinkled.”

Throwing it to the floor, Kinn raised an eyebrow and started corralling him back toward the bed.

“I told you to stay warm.”

“Clothes will help with that.”

“Pete’s getting you some from across the street.”

“Why? Mine are right there.” Porsche argued, pointing at the heap. We wished his legs would carry him there, instead he fell back against the bed woodenly with the gentlest of pushes from Kinn.

“I told you,” he retorted through gritted teeth, “they’re ruined.”

“No, they’re not.”

“Yes, they are.” Kinn yelled, making him flinch as a shot of pain ran across his head. As always, he noticed immediately and quietly apologised. “I meant you shouldn’t have to wear them. They smell like… him.”

Pinching his vest between two fingers, Porsche lifted it to his nose. That odour struck him again and with it a sickening reminder. Hands forcing him onto the bed, pulling at his clothes, gripping at his limbs and rearranging him to their whim while he was helpless to stop it.

With a noise of disgust, Porsche ripped the vest from his body and threw it over the side of the bed before flopping back. A shiver immediately ran over his exposed skin but he ignored it. The cold was worth it if it would stop the flood of memories trying to return. His voice wasn’t clear, muffled by the drugs, yet Porsche couldn’t forget the words he threatened him with. To cross the line; the line protected by Kinn, only to be taken by him minutes later.

“You’re still cold.”

Porsche didn’t dignify that obvious statement with a response. He couldn’t contain a small grunt of appreciation, however, when a warm robe landed over his prone body.

Rolling his head lazily to the side, he saw it was Kinn’s. Unlike Porsche who had hunched in on himself, Kinn stood brazenly nude in the rising sunlight. With no thought to his state of undress, he focused on arranging the fabric to cover Porsche’s shoulders then retrieved the forgotten cover from the floor and cocooned it around his legs.

“There,” he said gently, “that will keep you warm for now.”

Turning to retrieve his piles of clothes, Porsche looked but didn’t see as Kinn got dressed. His eyes kept drooping as warmth gradually started returning to his extremities. The smell that had disturbed him was replaced with a finer scent: Kinn’s. It lingered on the pillow too, and Porsche wiggled his way up the bed to return to it.

Kinn had crossed a line, yet his scent still brought comfort. He wondered if he should be concerned about his sanity. It seemed plainly obvious, even to him, that the drugs were still in his system. He shouldn’t call out to Kinn, asking him to stay in the room as he opened the door to go. For some reason – the drugs, he reasoned – he did.

“Where are you going?” He asked, head rising from the pillow. “You’re leaving me?”

Glancing over his shoulder, Kinn looked surprised. “I’m checking in with Pol. He’s reviewing footage from last night.”

“Why?”

Frowning, he dropped his hand from the handle and walked back toward him with his hands casually tucked into his pockets. “To find out who did this to you.”

“Why are you leaving?” Porsche clarified. “Can’t you call?”

Raising one of those perfectly sculpted eyebrows, Kinn was surprised he had to ask, “You want me to stay?”

Suddenly feeling petulant, Porsche turned his head away and barely refrained from sticking out his lip like Chay used to do. “No. Go do whatever you want. You always do.”

He hadn’t said the last part as quietly as he meant to, but with his head turned he failed to see how his words affected Kinn. He expected scorn; felt he deserved it too. He thought Porsche would want him gone; would be disgusted by him.

Pulling the phone out of his pocket, Kinn stayed where he was as he made the call. Porsche didn’t turn back to face him. He waited until awkward silence fell over them, then burrowed his head back in the pillow.

“Porsche.” Kinn said, his voice a mixture of exasperation and fondness.

He grumbled in response, eyes still heavy.

“Porsche. I stayed.”

“I know.”

“You wanted me to stay. That means we have to talk about it.”

“Did Pol find who did it?”

“We will.” Kinn vowed.

“Then, no. I don’t want to talk.” Porsche corrected. He didn’t want to think about what almost happened but he had to. He had to know who attacked him; before they tried to do it again.

As if reading his mind, Kinn said: “They won’t get you again. I’ll make sure of that.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I know that.” Kinn replied brusquely. “Would I have hired you as my bodyguard if you couldn’t? Porsche, talk to me.”

“No.” He said, rebelling against Kinn’s demanding tone. Why did he have to be so arrogant? So bossy? So… so…

“I took advantage of you.”

Porsche grimaced into the pillow.

“You were drugged, and I knew better.”

“Then why did you?” He asked, before he could think better. It was inappropriate. He was an employee. Something the man standing repentant before him liked to constantly remind him.

“You were being…” Kinn started before he stopped himself. Porsche rolled over to face him.

With a sigh, he corrected, “Because I wanted to. Because I’m attracted to you. Something which made me lose my better judgement. Which is something I must apologise to you for. I am sorry. You had been attacked and I made everything worse. When I kissed you for the first time, you were drunk. I’ve taken advantage twice. I’m sorry.”

Porsche watched Kinn lower his head, uncharacteristically avoiding meeting his eyes.

“I thought I dreamt that at first.” He admitted.

Kinn’s expression darkened further as he confirmed, “You weren’t in your right mind.”

“You should’ve told me.” If he had… maybe things wouldn’t have escalated the way they did. But what alternative was there? They could never be normal, in a normal relationship.

“I didn’t tell you, because I didn’t know how you would react. I never know how you’ll react, you always surprise me.” Kinn lamented. “Besides which, I didn’t know if you were that way inclined.”

“Oh.” That made sense. Using his choice of words, Porsche explained, “Well I’m inclined both ways. So I wouldn’t have been mad about that.”

Kinn’s shoulders seemed to lose some tension, but not much. “I’m still your boss.”

“I know.”

“You didn’t want to work for me.”

Porsche snorted. “I know.”

“You wouldn’t be happy with me. You hate my life.”

“I do. So why did you do it?” He asked, sitting up. Another shiver ran through him so, under Kinn’s disapproving eyes, he pulled the covers up to his neck.

“You do something to me. You get under my skin.”

“You hate me half the time.”

“No I don’t. You annoy the shit out of me, but I don’t hate you. So,” he said, pondering his next move, “I’ll let you go. Or we can… do this right. Properly.” Kinn said.

“Do this or that?” Porsche asked, gesturing first to Kinn’s gun and then to the rumpled sheets.

Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, he was clearly talking about them when he answered, “This. If you want. I’m never going to force you to do anything else again.”

Porsche couldn’t contain a laugh at the ridiculousness of that statement.

“You’re the bossiest person I’ve ever met, of course you will.”

Kinn smiled slightly. “Yes, I take your point. But if you never want to see me again I understand why and – much as I might hate it – I’ll respect the decision.”

Looking down at the sheets to think, Porsche weighed up his next words. After the night he’d had, everything felt insanely confusing. What he and Kinn had done – the relief he had felt when he realised Kinn had saved him and was there – his confusion over their initial kiss… the drugs, the alcohol…

“I need to think. I should go home for a bit…”

“No.” Kinn said harshly, before moderating his tone in reflection of the promise he had made mere seconds ago. “No. We don’t know who attacked you yet. They might come after you again. You don’t want to expose your brother to that.”

He knew that was his weakness, the one way to get him to agree.

“Fine. But I can’t be on your detail for a while.”

“That is acceptable.” Kinn said reluctantly. He would find some other way to monitor Porsche’s safety.

“Tankhun?” He asked dubiously.

“I can assign you somewhere else. Arm could take you into the armoury. Work internal security for a while?”

“So I’ll be stuck inside the whole time?” He sighed, hating the thought. Still, at least he wouldn’t be forced into ridiculous costumes by Kinn’s older brother again.

“Not the whole time.” Kinn mused. “Not if we… were to go out?”

“On a date?”

“If you want. Only if you want.”

Porsche nodded slowly.

“Think about it.” Kinn urged.

“Okay.”

A knock on the door set Kinn back on his feet, striding over to find out who had disturbed them. It was only Pete with new clothes.

Porsche’s friend craned his neck around Kinn’s unmoveable body blocking the entrance to see how he was doing. Lifting a hand, Porsche waved at him with – what he hoped – was a reassuring smile.

Kinn came back briefly to pass over the shopping bag before stepping out, phone in hand, to give him some privacy while he dressed and time to consider his offer.

There was a lot to consider.

#kinnporsche #kinnporche the series #kinn theerapanyakul #porsche pachara #porsche kittisawasd #boss/employee relationship #awkward conversations #morning after #tw: attempted rape/noncon #kinn x porsche #porsche x kinn

[save-the-data]

Jun & Jun | s01e01

Korean Drama - 2023, 8 episodes

~ Episode List~ |  ~Korean Drama Master List~  

#Jun & Jun #KDrama #LGBTQ+ #Comedy #Gay Romance #Workplace Romance #Gay Male Lead #Boss/Employee Relationship #준과 준 #South Korea #Park Hyeong Seop #Jo Chan Hyun #Yang Jun Mo #Ki Hyun Woo #Jun and Jun

[queerfanfiction]

Love Notes (Ch. 5)

Larissa Weems x musicteacher!Reader We have an angsty chapter here, oops. Also, thank you all for being patient as I got back to writing! It took getting pneumonia to unblock writer's block somehow? Idk. Make it make sense.

AO3 link

In between moments not with Larissa, you worked on orchestrating the big reveal and scavenger hunt. There were a lot of moving parts to your plan, and it would take some secrecy to enact, because you were pretty sure you’d have to involve other people. The question remained of who you could trust to involve…

Eventually you and Larissa go into Jericho together. It felt like the most normal outing, the two of you laughing about something in the car ride over and planning how to continue your adventures and treats into the new semester. Spending time with Larissa came so naturally. Sure, you still felt killer butterflies when she stole a glance at you, but it felt right. That’s the only way you knew how to describe it.

While she briefly meets with the mayor and does a follow up interview with a new affiliate therapist for Nevermore, you planned to check out the florist shop for her favorite flowers. Even though you’re a few weeks out from your ideal time to unveil the mystery, you’re not sure if securing lilies would be possible so early in the spring.

Through the windows of the town hall, Larissa sees you chatting outside with the local florist. A man with an apron on and the kind of scruffy looking beard that seemed like it was naturally charming but actually took work to achieve. Larissa knew almost everyone in Jericho personally by now, but all she had known about him is that many of the women around town fancied him.

At that moment, you had casually touched his arm, like he was an old friend. What was that? she mused, oblivious that the therapist in front of her had finished answering her question. Her mind wandered to whether or not you fancied him.

“Larissa?” The voice brought you out of your pondering.

“Apologies! I was simply considering how wonderful it will be for students to be able to confide in someone again, especially after the year they’ve had.” Larissa’s scrambling to save her indiscretion was believable, so believable that her conversation partner smiled wide and thanked her for her consideration and support in their employment.

Placated and wrapping up the meeting, Larissa resumed pilling through her memories to discern if you had ever mentioned the florist before. She was certain you hadn’t. An ache began to creep into her heart when she considered, Is this why you pushed to come to Jericho?

After finishing her conversation with the mayor, Larissa waits in the foyer of the town hall to watch your interaction with the man before heading to the Weathervane. Larissa began to get lost in thought again, Why do I care? I’m not involved. In fact, you owed me nothing. You’re not mine. I mean, no one has a claim over anyone. That notion is an archaic and patriarchal way of thinking—one that doesn’t value consent and agency. Larissa sighed and pushed open the heavy wooden door to leave.

Not knowing Larissa had been watching you, you chatted with James, the florist you had just met. While you didn’t offer the identity of the person, you let him in on your entire plan and hopes for the flowers in the scavenger hunt.

At first you thought he would be more rugged and standoffish, but his eyes lit up at the mention of using his flowers in a surprise. He promised he would have as many lilies available that I needed and that he could help arrange anything else for the reveal.

“A hopeless romantic, huh?” you gleamed at him, not knowing how to explain what his kindness and support meant to you. James blushed a bit and peered at you between strands of hair falling in his eyes. He finally confessed, “I suppose so” accompanied by a massive grin.

It felt nice to be able to plan with someone. You’ve been holding your feelings close to your chest around others; you weren’t sure if Larissa felt similarly or if she would be guarded against public acknowledgement being the head of the academy. Overwhelmed with gratitude, you risked holding out your arms for a hug while muttering a quick “thank you” that was warmly received. 

You meet Larissa in the Weathervane about 15 minutes later after getting James’s number to coordinate for later. You practically skip in and kiss her on the cheek, having been so excited to have set a plan in motion for the scavenger hunt.

“Hello!” Peck. “How was the interview?”

“Productive,” Larissa gives in a slightly standoffish tone. You wonder if she is angry you kept her waiting. She had just finished ordering when you came in from the flower shop, possibly growing frustrated of sitting around waiting.

Worry nestles in your chest when you hear her respond to the barista that her drink is to go. You and Larissa had planned to drink your beverages in a booth to chat and then stroll around town before heading over to the local book shop together. When Larissa ordered the drink to go, it felt like confirmation that you had done something to upset her.

Larissa didn’t have a lot of experience with the feeling that she could only consider jealousy. She would normally be over the moon to have been gifted a cheek kiss by you. Instead, Larissa could feel herself shifting into irritable bitch mode due to not knowing what to make of your flirting with the florist. She felt powerless to stop the mood change. A million thoughts run through Larissa’s mind, but she’s not in the mood for talking—she feels too vulnerable.

“Are you okay, Larissa?” Your voice rings out, marked with concern, when Larissa didn’t turn to you or explain more about her meeting.

“Yes, why?”

Her curt response made you feel hopeless, made you question whether or not you were being too sensitive to the difference in her demeanor. “I thought we were going to stay and drink our hot chocolates here.” You aimed for a hopeful tone, not knowing if you succeeded.

Still not meeting your gaze, Larissa answered exasperatedly, “I have too much work to do after the meeting with the mayor. I can’t waste time with you anymore. I need to get back to Nevermore; would you like a ride?”

You looked as though you were just slapped across the face. Waste time? Where was this coming from? You were a waste of time to her? Thoughts engulfed you, and you felt a knob begin to form in your throat. Has Larissa been biding the time until students return and save her from spending time with you? You couldn’t speak; you knew your voice would betray you. Your eyes were beginning to sting.

All you could muster in response to Larissa’s question was a vigorous head shake and a “mmm-mm” to signal that no ride was needed. You couldn’t sit through the ride back to Nevermore with her and be detached to your emotions bubbling up right now.

You decided to risk a glance at Larissa to study her face. Maybe you were imagining this? Her features were hardened with no legible expression as she waited to receive her hot chocolate.

The seconds that you two stood there in silence seemed to drag on. The certitude of her statement and following question made you feel like you were expected to leave her side or sit back down unaffected. You’ve had moments where you were sheepish or awkward around the woman in front of you, but none of those times could compare to the thick, uncomfortable quality that surrounded you now.

When the worker behind the counter called out that a hot chocolate was ready, Larissa surged forward to seize the drink and turn on her heels in departure. No goodbye, just the fading clicks of her shoes against the floor tiles.

You watched her go, suddenly not craving the drink you were excited to imbibe minutes before. The ease and comfort you felt and championed in her presence shrank away. Confusion and hurt took its place. You shuffle to another booth than the usual one you and Larissa sat at. It felt too fragile to slide into the familiar space, as if it would flake away and crumble the memories you had there.

Taking a few moments to process, you turned to watching people come in and out of the Weathervane. A few families, teens, surprisingly more people in business suits than you’ve ever seen before. You had hoped to feel comforted by sharing space out in the world instead of retreating, but loneliness still gnawed at you—invaded you.

After about 20 minutes of waiting for the sadness to pass, you resigned to going back to campus grounds. You made your way home from the cafe, luckily giving Larissa enough time to drive back and get settled, which ensured you wouldn’t run into her when you arrived. You didn’t know if you could handle that.

Finally shuffling into your living quarters, you collapsed on the bed, not bothering to change or remove your boots. Your hands made their way to your scrunched up, wet face but not before pulling the covers far up around your head as they could go.

—

Larissa felt regret seep up her chest immediately. Her jaw locked as she waited for her drink, sensing how absurd her behavior was. She bit down on the flesh of her cheek inside her mouth in an attempt to silence her racing thoughts. When her drink was ready, she snatched it and fled. She couldn’t bear to look into your eyes or see the hurt or confusion on your face that she knew would be there.

Once in the vehicle and driving out of the town square, she reviewed her tone, the coldness she used with you. How could she explain that it was a front—a scramble for control? How could she repair the damage without addressing why she lashed out in the first place? Did she just ruin the most consistent source of joy and support she’s ever had in her life?

The questions in her head became too much, and she had to pull off the road to steady her ragged breathing. Her grip on the steering wheel showcased the whitest knuckles she’d ever seen. She felt like she had to escape but no amount of distance was enough.

Memories of your time together over the last few weeks darted behind her eyelids. She had grown so close to you, never considering that she was falling into old patterns. Getting over Morticia almost broke her. If she came unraveled by losing a high school love, what chance did she have of making it out of whatever she had for you? Seeing how close you and the florist were evoked a reaction that she couldn’t have anticipated.

Rather, your utter endearing nature with her after witnessing you with the florist is what solidified her outburst. It felt tragic and unfair to be in such close proximity to what she desired yet completely out of reach. To make it back to Nevermore, she had to dissociate—give herself over to some sort of autopilot. Once she arrived, Larissa rushed inside the large wooden doors to her office and leaned exhaustedly against the door, finally giving herself over to her emotions now that she was in the safety and seclusion of her office.

For the first time in nights, you both occupied your respective rooms, crawling into otherwise empty beds.

—

The following morning, you feel how tight and raw your eyes are from crying through the night. Leaving the bed doesn’t seem in the cards today. Instead, you curl up trying to keep warm now that you don’t have Larissa’s body heat to wake up to.

Knowing its a bad idea, you roll over and let your mind think of yesterday. Maybe she was just using you to distract herself while she recovered. She’s not exactly spoiled for choice with everyone gone for winter break. You probably haven’t meant as much to her as she has meant to you. …Would coming clean about authoring the mix CDs be ill advised then? Or should you still put the mystery to rest, allowing closure for you both? As your mind went back and forth, you couldn’t help but consider how authentic Larissa seemed when you two spent time together. You wanted to hold onto that.

Time passed so slowly laying there. You were scared to leave your room to shower, to eat, to go to the orchestra room. Of course you didn’t want to see the object of your pain and hurt, but you also couldn’t muster up the energy to do anything—even within the confines of your living space.

Days went by until you finally had to get up to shower and do laundry. Your room was starting to stink and you didn’t want students coming back to campus to suspect anything is remiss. You gathered your things and tiptoed to the faculty showers. Thankfully it was empty for you to slip into the farthest stall away with a half crescent stained glass window.

You stand in the corner of the stall to turn on the water and wait for it to warm up. Once you deemed the water hot enough, you stepped into the stream and closed your eyes, rolling your neck in and out of the water. For a few minutes you stood still, letting the the water run down your back, scorching the skin. Steam rose to caress the stained glass above you.

Meanwhile, what you didn’t know was that Larissa treaded carefully too. She had tried not to seek you out, yet she was wary of and half expected to see you everywhere she went. She took tabs of where you might be, and you weren’t in the faculty lounge, the library, the courtyard, the entrance hall, or even the shared dorm spaces when she was there. Larissa even found herself walking past the orchestra room only to be met with silence.

—

About a week after the incident at the Weathervane and a couple days after your shower and laundry excursion, you decide to attempt to leave your room again.   With students arriving back on campus and a new semester rapidly approaching, you needed to figure out your syllabus and compositions. You slid on a blazer over a crisp white button up and slowly headed to your once familiar safe haven—the music room.

Once inside the space, you immediately feel terrible for being away from it for so long. There it was waiting patiently to comfort you and build new soundscapes with you. Your hands wander across the various instruments set out about the space. Your fingers touch piano keys, guitar strings, wooden reeds, metal valves, cherishing the notes that emitted from them as you skimmed past each collection.

You attempted to hold back your flurry of emotions and focus on various scores and arrangements for your syllabus, but each note made your heart ache for what catharsis could be spilling from you instead.

It wasn’t long until the music shifted from pointed instruction that corresponded to specific weeks within the semester to raw, unruly emotion. You began to sob while composing soft, slow tunes that built into delicate and resonant peaks. The instruments you commanded had a measured grace about them that filled the room with its rich melody.

As the music pouring from you continued, it burned slowly, not unlike a campfire that blazes one moment and crackles with reverb the next. Rhythm rang out and orchestral layers began to pile up, transporting the song to cinematic heights full of fragility and a holy, spiritual quality that you’ve never heard before from your own music.

Making her daily rounds across the academy grounds, Larissa notices the emotional tune emitting from the music room that has been vacant up until this point. Her heart catches in her throat as the music pulls indecipherable feelings from her core. A air of melancholy and longing overwhelms Larissa. She had hoped to see you, but she wasn’t expecting this. The song radiating from the room to her eardrums had stopped Larissa in her tracks. The showcase of gentle tones that blossomed into shimmering instrumental passages had brought tears to her eyes. 

Larissa had lingered here many times before, stealing away compositions from the hall outside your domain. However, this time she wanted to burst through the doors and apologize. She wanted to usher in a vibrant symphony rather than the lonesome notes currently leaking out of the room. She could overhear this change in you. It was apparent, and Larissa knew she was the cause.

—

Eventually, students began to return. You had attempted to stay a recluse in your room for as long as you could. That is, until a day swiftly came when you heard excited knocks rapt against the door to your living space.

With a knowing sigh, you heaved yourself from your desk towards the door. You knew the pink cheeks and bouncing hair that would open up before you beyond the door. Enid had come to say hello after returning from break.

“Professor!”

“Hello there, Enid.” You mustered up the sweetest smile you could for the girl, even though you still felt lackluster. “How was your break?”

“Oh, it was so good! Well, it was kind of kooky staying with Wednesday and her family. They’re so different from my family. My brothers are sure to tackle each other to the ground as soon as possible, but Wednesday and Pugsley hardly touch! You can still tell she has a soft spot for him, though. They ha-”

You let Enid ramble on about her winter break and the things she and the Addams’s got up to. To be honest, the lack of effort needed to continue the conversation was nice; you weren’t sure you had it in you for explaining elaborate stories or… any details right now.

“Um, anyway, I wanted to ask you a question, actually.” Her forthcoming demeanor slowed, and you could tell she was nervous.

“Anything for my favorite resident.” Your words were enough to melt the young werewolf’s fears. Her shoulders relax, and she happily pushes her way into your room.

Slightly taken aback at the gesture, you leave the door ajar and take a seat in one of the armchairs across from where she has elected to sit. “What’s on your mind?”

“Well, it’s kind of about Wednesday.” You stay quiet, letting Enid know she has the floor and that you won’t rush her.

“We had a really good break. I mean, we got on each others’ nerves a lot. She always scoffs like she is better off alone and is annoyed, but I could tell she liked having me there.”

You nod, willing yourself to have empathetic eyes that signal for her to continue.

She finally blurts out, “We almost kissed, and now Wednesday won’t talk to me.” Enid seems panicked and almost in tears at this revelation.

“Hey, hey.” You rise from your chair to place a comforting hand on the young girl’s shoulder. “Take some deep breaths. You’re okay, and we’re going to talk about it. It’s okay.”

Enid wipes her eyes, and you continue supportively, “I know being vulnerable is hard, especially when you can’t control how other people react or feel. Is that how you are feeling?”

“Yeah. Wednesday is so hard to read and gives me mixed signals. She goes back and forth between being standoffish and blunt but also charming and kind of open to being close. Sometimes it seems like she won’t let herself be happy,” Enid ends with a frown.

“I see how conflicted you feel, and I’m sorry you are going through this. What I will say is that you are more likely to regret not honoring your own feelings than communicating your needs. Nothing good ever happened from shrinking away from what you truly wanted.”

“Wow, that’s so deep.” Enid takes a moment. “So even if things don’t work out the way I hope, I know I did what I could to be true to myself?”

“Exactly. That’s all we can do sometimes. Yes, it could be hard to not have feelings reciprocated, but you’re not happy not knowing either.”

“Okay, I think I know what I’m gonna do. Thank you!” Enid is standing and reaching out to you in a firm embrace now. You reciprocate, hoping the best for the young girl. You knew how close she and Wednesday were, even if Wednesday puts on a front.

A few moments pass, and Enid is over by your desk now, picking up everything in sight and inspecting it. “So, what’s wrong with you and Principal Weems?” Enid’s nosy, chipper demeanor is back.

A puzzled look appears on your face. “What do you mean? Principal Weems and I haven’t seen each other?”

“You two were always together before we all left for break.” She shrugs and raises her eyes, playing with your pens before moving onto your swinging, metal pendulum.

Geez, students could not be fooled. They are far more perceptive than other faculty give them credit for. Your head swam, and you didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know what you could say, given that Larissa was the principal and would likely not support students gossiping about her personal life. At your long pause, Enid continued.

“Now you two both seem sad. I could tell when you opened the door since almost the whole dorm is back and hasn’t seen you. And Principal Weems is way more irritable than normal. Ajax, Yoko, and I were throwing around a ball in the courtyard and almost hit one of the gargoyles. Principal Weems confiscated the ball and gave us a lecture on the history of the gargoyles at Nevermore. Something about them being 1,300 year old hand-crafted stone?”

“Oh, Enid, I’m not sure…” It was all you could think to say to both Enid’s original and follow up question.

“Like you said, nothing good will happen from shrinking away from what you want. Your words.” Enid states this as if she is wielding a giant philosophical answer. You can’t help but feel pride in her quick use of the same line. Okay, why did you have to give such great advice?

The earnest nature of the young werewolf was admirable and made your weak heart grow. Enid begins to walk out of your room muttering a combination of “just saying” and “thanks again!”

As the door closes, you slump into your chair, deep in thought. Maybe you should put it all out there. What is the worst that could happen? It’s the least you could do for yourself. Otherwise, you’re back to where you started. Your discussion with Enid inadvertently encourages you to step up and continue the scavenger hunt.

—

Tagging: @lilsmeaux, @suckerforcate, @rickistheman, @tundra1029, @aster-loves-gwen, @justcallmelittleone, @poorwritingandstalecoffee, @lvinhs, @one-pining-queer, @kimiinou, @bobia13. Let me know if anyone else wants tagged in the future. :)

#love notes #chapter 5 #larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #principal weems #larissa x reader #principal larissa weems #wednesday #ao3 #fanfiction #gwendoline christie #music teacher #nevermore academy #boss/employee relationship #principal/teacher #mix cd #slow burn #mutual pining #angst

[weemsgay]

Love Notes (Ch. 2)

Thank you all for being patient as I got around to chapter 2 and a short playlist.

Larissa Weems x musicteacher!Reader

Kind of a mix between Larissa POV and Reader POV. If it is too confusing, let me know so that I can change it up for subsequent chapters!

AO3 link

Spotify playlist

Thank goodness Larissa was able to convince the nurses to allow her a notepad. Bedrest, honestly? she scowled to herself. Undoubtedly Wednesday has already gotten into trouble again. At the same time, though, Larissa thought back to the younger, morose girl hovering over her limp body with obvious worry marking her face. Her scowl softened. She couldn’t help but have a soft spot for the girl. Seeing Wednesday forge her own path from Morticia was refreshing; Larissa didn’t need any further reminders of her former roommate…

Lost in thought, Larissa’s head snapped up at your gentle knock from the doorway. You step into the room hesitantly, worrying your lip as you make your way over to her hospital bed. “Ah, finally,” Larissa begins theatrically with a wave of her hand. “Darling, had I known you’d show up, I wouldn’t have had to improvise.” She gestures down at the small notepad with the hospital’s logo on it before giving you a wink and gentle smile.

Suppressing a blush with your own cheeky smile, you retort, “You mean you’re not known for your visions?!” You feign a gasp while reaching out to sit the duffel bag down on the tray table at the foot of her bed. You knew Larissa was a shapeshifter after accidentally witnessing her morph into Rowen earlier in the semester. That was an awkward conversation. Larissa didn’t know if it would have been awkward regardless or if it was awkward because it was you.

Of course not many people knew of her abilities at Nevermore, except for one faculty member that taught her back when she was enrolled. I’ll have to get him a thank you gift for never revealing my specific outcast status after all these years, she briefly filed away in her brain for later. Naturally it would be nerve-wrecking to get outed shapeshifting, especially during such a precarious moment. Albeit, Larissa had to admit that there was something about you that intrigued her. The fact that you now knew her abilities only added to the feeling of not being in control that you generated.

“Here” you continued. “I got your things, as well as a surprise for you.” You tested the waters. Perhaps you could still decide to claim the letter and mix CD.

Larissa looked a bit better already, more life in her than yesterday. She perks up at the thought of a surprise. You could have sworn you saw her eyes sparkle. Surely she has just felt deprived of social interactions or having the comfort of her own items. It’s probably not about seeing you specifically, you resolved.

“A surprise?” she answered intrigued. Larissa moved to snatch the bag and rummage through it. Sitting on top was indeed the letter you wrote in intricate calligraphy taped to a mix CD. “What’s this?” she continued, appearing confused with furrowed brows and an otherwise unreadable expression.

With a hitch of your breath, you worried internally, Okay…maybe you did read this wrong. Hopefully she is not disappointed or appalled at the sudden intimate gift. Defeated by your own inner turmoil, you backtracked.

“Oh, I found it on your desk in your office when I went by to gather your things, Principal Weems.” Larissa’s eyes shifted from the letter and CD to you and back. You scolded yourself for choosing such an expected medium for a gift; of course the music professor would compile a mix CD…

You continued, attempting to sound nonchalant, “But, like I said, I have a surprise.” You tried to salvage your previous statement with a reasonable alternative. Your hands searched through the duffel, dangerously close to Larissa’s, almost grazing the back of her hand.

“And voila!” you declared after a moment. In your outstretched hand you presented her signature red lipstick.

After waiting to confirm you were seriously proposing the lipstick as your intended gift, Larissa verbalized her gratitude, “Am I so predictable that you could sense I feel incomplete without my red lip?” She chuckled, and it sounded heavenly. What came next you could never have anticipated. “Help me put it on?”

Your mouth immediately went dry, and you felt warmth pool in your center. “Uh, hm? Wha-” was all you could muster. Larissa let out another small laugh and reasoned, “Well, I’ve no mirror, and these darn nurses are too good at their jobs to let me out of bed unsupervised.”

That makes perfect sense, you deliberated. You stepped further into the blonde’s space, leaned down eye-level with her, and waited for her to begin applying the lipstick. Your eyes flitted down to her lips as you attempted to keep your breathing steady. Larissa’s hand came up with the uncapped red applicator and began slowly dragging it across her smooth, plump lips. She occasionally pursed and brought together the upper and lower lips to ensure coverage, and it was as if you were entranced. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought the principal was purposefully prolonging the process. You would consider it torture if it didn’t feel so inexplicably pleasurable to watch.

Larissa questioned, “How’s it look?” To that you muttered breathlessly, “Utterly flawless.” A light pink began to creep up Larissa’s neck, but it was lost on you, as you were trying to drag your gaze to anywhere else in the room except her pouty, mesmerizing lips.

Taking a step back, you finally announce, “All is right in the world again. Thanks for letting me help, and please let me know if there is anything else you may need. We were all worried about you.” Larissa noticed a desperate tone in your voice.

You turned to leave. “Stay a moment, will you?” Larissa blurted.

—

Larissa had put you to work asking the hospital staff if there was a way to play CDs available for patients. After awhile, she had assumed no such possibility could be arranged. However, you sheepishly returned with an old alarm clock with a CD player top. Before plugging it in and placing it next to Larissa, you quickly wiped off the top with a paper towel from the bathroom dispenser.

In your absence, Larissa had time to consider the gift. If it weren’t for the accompanied music, she might have thought it was a joke. Who would court her? she considered. Of course she has had lovers and experiences, but nothing of serious magnitude and certainly not in recent years. Her duty to the academy came first (and often intimidated any potential suitors). In fact, Larissa hadn’t considered a romantic relationship viable with anyone since Morticia and the subsequent tragedy that transpired.

Her first thought was you, of course. Larissa isn’t sure if her suspicion was because it was logical or because she hoped for it to be true. She couldn’t help the magnetic pull towards you she consistently underwent. Over the past year and a half, Larissa was mindful of your interactions together. She’d begrudgingly depart faculty meetings early and keep her distance during school events like Outreach Day and the RaveN. The restraint it took to not invite you to enjoy a hot chocolate with her when she was at the Weathervane and saw you pass by outside was remarkable.

Like two magnets, though, Larissa often found herself in close proximity to you. Ensuring you did not notice, she couldn’t help but linger outside of the orchestra doors while you composed your own melodies. Larissa had heard or known of all the music in your curriculum, but these evenings you played after dinner were different. She hadn’t heard these original compositions before, and they stole her away each time.

Her longing aside, Larissa thought back to any moments she encountered your handwriting. Print, she realized, dejectedly. She’d only experienced your print writing—proposals and lesson plans. Her only clue to the beautiful calligraphy within the letter was your signature from your contract. Even then, your cursive signature was hurried and less ornamental than the steadied brush lettering in question. Doubt gnawed at her.

Without being certain, Larissa could not jeopardize your professional relationship to Nevermore. How embarrassing and improper it would be to suggest such a conclusion and not have it reciprocated. Moreover, she isn’t sure if being certain that you are behind the surprise gift is a large enough catalyst.

At this moment, you had retrieved the mix CD from the illustriously decorated case and popped it into the player next to Larissa. With your back turned to her, she was not privy to your nervous and timid expression. Notes begin to sound.

With her eyes closed, Larissa lets the music wash over her, filling her up. Her body involuntarily tingles at the base of her neck as the beautiful instruments hasten in tempo, threatening her composure.

With her eyes closed, Larissa lets the music wash over her, filling her up. Her body involuntarily tingles at the base of her neck as the beautiful instruments hasten in tempo, threatening her composure. Larissa is overwhelmed with the feeling as if this mysterious musical secret admirer understands her to her core. …as if each song speaking to a specific moment in Larissa’s life.

—

With the music framing your discussion and filling the room, you two fall into easy conversation. Hours pass. When a nurse comes in for the third time to kick you out, stating that visiting hours are over, you and Larissa share a knowing, mischievous glance and try not to chuckle. You didn’t want to go, but you also refused to make the hospital staff’s job more complicated. Alas, you began to head out, but not before you and Larissa planned more visits. Just as you were almost out the door, she asserts, “Please, call me Larissa.” You nod and take your leave, smiling giddily in the elevator.

Throughout the next two weeks as Larissa recovered from Marilyn Thornhill’s attack, you would come to her room, listen to music, and chat as if you’d known each other deep to your cores.

Out of nowhere on one of these days while taking in the songs again, Larissa queried, “So, who do you think it is?”

“The secret admirer?” you vocalized to give yourself more time to consider a plausible suspect. “Maybe that cute barista always doting on you from the Weathervane? I mean, she does arrange their Spotify account for the café.” In part you chose this option to examine how Larissa responded to the idea of another woman being interested in her.

Seemingly unsatisfied with this proposal, the silver-haired blonde grimaced. “What? Not into women?” you blabbed before being able to stop yourself—cheeks gaining a bit of color.

“No, no, women are marvelous.” She waited a beat. “I just wonder why she would gift something anonymously? I’m barely even intimidating.”

At that your mouth gaped open. “I’m sorry? Are we talking about the same person? You? Principal Larissa Weems who towers over almost everyone with a soft but powerful demeanor that suggests you don’t take shit from anyone???”

You continue, “Larissa, my friend…are you serious?” Larissa felt her stomach recoil at the statement. Friend…she internalized, almost feeling accosted. The whiplash of being enamored with your description of her and then the finalizing bestowal of friendship gave her pause.

Mustering a lackluster response was all she felt capable of, “I’m not sure I know what you mean.” In acknowledgment of her sudden tense demeanor, you reached out to take Larissa’s hand in yours. Her warmth seeped into your hand, reminding you that your hands were always cold to the touch. You gave her a reassuring squeeze, eager to continue the contact. Your touch seemed to placate Larissa but did not completely disappear an underlying look of uncertainty.

After this interaction, you and Larissa didn’t mention the secret admirer’s identity as much in your visits.

—

A week later the hospital staff finally cleared Larissa for discharge. With students heading off for winter break soon, there should be plenty of time for the principal to rest and recover in her own space. Mistaking you for Larissa’s partner, the nurses in Burlington handed you her discharge paperwork to sign, as she would need to go into your care. In a panic, fretting about bringing it up to Larissa, you went ahead and signed the paperwork.

Regardless, you were in high spirits. You could finally get back to making another mix CD for Larissa without major suspicion. Since you hadn’t needed to retrieve any other things from her office, you doubt you’d be able to use the “oh, I found this for you” excuse again. You’ll just have to get creative. Hey, maybe you’ll make your handiwork clear this time.

—

Tagging to be notified: @lilsmeaux, @suckerforcate, @rickistheman, @tundra1029 :)

Not sure if you wanted a tag, but here @asterlovesgwen!

#love notes....get it?? #chapter 2 #larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #principal weems #larissa x reader #principal larissa weems #wednesday #ao3 #fanfiction #gwendoline christie #music teacher #nevermore academy #boss/employee relationship #principal/teacher #Spotify playlist #mix cd #slow burn #mutual pining