#and play to god the story's good enough for the teacher

[entitled-fangirl]

Sparring.

Jasper Hale x vampire!reader

Summary: As Jasper teaches how to fight the newborns, the reader and Bella talk about her past.

Words: 1,551

Warning: vampire stuff, talk of death, cursing

Author's note: I can't tell if I love it or hate it but here you go anyway!

Masterlist <3

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The famous silver jeep of the Cullen’s pulled up as she watched Emmett be thrown into the dirt. 

The entire family turned as Edward and Bella stepped out of the car.

As they walk to the family, so do the wolves. 

Each vampire held to their mate as they watched said wolves come out from the tree line. Soft growls came from their snouts from the obvious smell of vampires.

Jasper held on to her as they did so, his arms around her waist, his chest providing support against her back. 

Edward stepped to Carlisle, “They don’t trust us enough to be in their human forms.”

Carlisle nodded, “At least they came. That’s enough. Will you translate?”

Carlisle stepped towards the wolves, thanking them for coming before explaining that Jasper would be the teacher in this scenario.

Jasper’s loving mate smiled. She loved sparring as a family.

…

Some time passes and the girl now sits on the hood of the jeep next to Bella. She leans over, “I’ve always found this entertaining. Watching them,  I mean…”

Bella smiled as Emmett flew threw the air once again. “I did have a question, if you don’t mind me asking…?”

The girl nods, anticipating what the human could possibly think of to ask.

“Jasper knows a lot about this kind of thing… I mean… Why is that exactly..?”

His mate shifts slightly, not expecting that question. “Well, Bella. I don’t feel that I’m the one that should tell you. Perhaps you should ask him. It’s… a horrid story, honestly. I’m not sure he’d want it out there, you know?”

Bella nods, “yeah, right. I get it… sorry.”

The girl’s head perks up at the sound of her name being called by Carlisle. “Oh, shit. My turn to go. Watch me, Bells?”

Bella grins, “Of course.”

…

Jasper stood confidently on the dirt ground, his eyes trained on the person in front of him.

His pretty mate. 

She held the same look in her eyes. 

They had sparred many times before. And they were both quite good. He taught her practically everything he knows. 

The entire family gathered around to see how it would play out. Would they go easy on each other? Who would win?

It seemed the two held that look in their eyes as well as they tried to scope the other one’s thoughts.

Then he rushed her. 

They were both incredible to watch as if they were dancing. Their bodies seemed to always know what the other would do, even when changing their fighting style. It seemed the two lovers truly knew each other in and out. 

Eventually she slipped, and Jasper seized his opportunity, grabbing her wrist and pulling her to him. 

Pulled against his body, her face was mere inches from him. The tension between the two rose as his gaze fell to her lips. God, he couldn’t resist her even when he was pretending to be her enemy.

And she was no better.

She focused on the feeling of his strong grip, his sturdy fingers wrapped around her seemingly delicate wrist. 

If they were alone, this sparring match would have escalated, like it usually does when they are so. But today, they simply stared at each other. Those who didn’t know them would assume they were calculating what the other might do next, but no. This family knew them quite well. And thank god no one else had Jasper’s gift, or the tension would bring a blush to their cheeks.

She gently leaned forward, their lips brushing. Jasper tilted his head down to receive her soft lips. But they never came.

She swept his leg out from under him, pinning him to the ground as she placed a knee on his chest. 

She leaned down to his face, whispering softly in his ear, “What was that you said? Don’t get distracted?”

He smiled, letting his head fall back against the dirt. 

She would be the death of him. 

And he would love it.

…

The sparring continued the next day as she found herself sitting next to Bella on the hood of the car again.

She watched Jasper as he sparred with an admiring look in her eye. She loved the Major with all her heart. 

Or, what was left of it anyway.

If it still pumped blood, she would be able to feel it beat for him.

“Do you mind if I ask you another question? A different one, this time?”

The girl nods, “Yeah, don’t see why not.” 

Bella looks down at the dirt. “Can I ask what happened to you? How you… how you got here?”

She felt a breath come out of her unused lungs, “Oh. Yeah. ‘Course. It’s… not a pleasant story but any means… are you sure?”

The human nods, “Please. I’m trying to understand you guys better.”

The girl leans back slightly, regaining her bearings. “Alright. Well… I was born in 1941. I uh, grew up in the 50s. Not the best timing, obviously. Do you know much about the ’50’s, Bella?”

The human’s head tilts back and forth in thought, “A little. Civil rights and stuff..?”

“Yeah. Well, the Korean War was in the 50’s. There was this military guy that fell in love with me. And I to him. But… we, uh… how do I say this? He was… we were…?”

Bella leans forward, “…what? Just say it.”

“Well, we were different skin tones. And.. well, I don’t need to say much more. Anyway, there was this other man that decided he liked me. He was pigheaded and awful. I hated him. He tormented me everyday. I finally told him about the man that-“

“-what was his name?”

The girl’s head perked up, “Whose?”

Bella met her eyes, “…the one you loved.”

A deep sigh left the vampire’s lips, “…Johnathan.”

Bella nodded, leaning back again to let the girl continue her story.

“I told the man about… Johnathan and… the man began to tell everyone in town. It became the only thing anyone talked about until eventually…. Eventually...,” the girl’s voice faded out in thought. “…I’m sorry. I haven’t told this story in so long…”

“It’s alright. Take your time.”

“Thank you… uh… the man formed a mob and approached us in the park one day. Johnathan tried to protect me. And he did. Until they… killed him…” the girl stared at the ground, a somber look in her eyes. “…and the man ended up being a vampire… he changed me and… well… yeah.”

Bella nodded, “How did you find Carlisle?”

“Oh. Right. Uh, I was on the run… after I changed. I actually ran into him. Well, he ran into me. He…. He stood to where I would crash into him, so he could talk to me. He knew everything. He took me in. And I met Jasper…”

Her eyes wandered back to Jasper. His sleeves were pulled up, exposing the skin of his forearms, and the scars that resided there. He was so strong. So perfect. Her knight in shining armor. 

Bella noticed the girl’s longing gaze and smiled to herself. “…how did you know he was the one?”

The girl turned back to Bella, “Oh. You just know, Bella. It’s… ugh, it’s this feeling you get in your heart. Like you’ve finally taken a breath after being underwater for years. Like your souls have intertwined and have become one. It’s… strange to put into words…”

Bella nods, “It sounds wonderful.”

She nods too, “Oh, it is. Edward feels that way about you.”

Bella looks up in surprise, “Really?”

She smiles, “Yeah. He told me that the day he met you. Like he couldn’t think around you. You… occupy all of his thoughts. You fascinate him.”

The human grins, “And that’s how Jasper feels?”

“-How I feel about what?”

Jasper had walked up to the two, a grin on his face. He leaned against the car on his side, his arm resting over his girl’s leg. 

His mate smiled, “Perhaps it’s none of your business… girl things…”

Jasper scoffed, “Sure, darlin’. Anything you say.”

Her hand reached up to run it through his hair. 

The three sat in silence for a while before the girl broke it. “I need to go back to the house. Help me down, Jas?”

He stood, reaching his arms out, gripping her waist to help her down. She was vampire. She didn’t need help. And they both knew that. 

Bella scooted forward, “Wait, before you go…?”

The girl turned around in Jasper’s arms. “…Yeah?”

“What happened to him? …To the guy that…”

The girl’s lips pulled up into a smirk. Her head turned slightly to look at Jasper’s face that held the same knowing smirk of his own. “Well, Bella. He… got what he deserved…” 

And with that, she walked away. 

Bella gawked slightly, now focusing on Jasper, hoping he could illuminate on the situation. 

But he continued to grin, watching his girl walk away. 

Eventually, Jasper felt Bella’s confused emotion and turned to her. “I made a vow not to kill after I met her…”

Bella’s eyebrows knitted together, and Jasper’s smirk grew into a grin. 

“…But I fucking killed him.”

And with that, silence overtook the forest as he continued to watch his girl walk away.

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[bpmiranda]

hi oh my god i’m so obsessed with your stories. can you write some teacher x student stuff? maybe there’s a training sesh or something involved? content completely up to you :)

Professor (Logan Howlett) nsfw

A/N: age gap, professor!logan, 18+ mutant f!reader, prettygirl!reader, suggestive content, mentions of masturbation

Logan hated subbing for Storm. Not because he didn’t get along with the students or because he couldn’t do the tasks assigned to him. There was a girl in one of Storm’s classes that drove him crazy. Her outfits weren’t necessarily provocative, but she wore them with the intention of accentuating her curves, the build of her thighs, that damned belly ring exposed just underneath the hem of her shirts. Logan would daydream for hours on end about that belly button piercing, his tongue and teeth tugging on it as he fingered her.

She was a student, however, he had to keep reminding himself she was still a student, and it wouldn’t be right.

It didn’t help how pretty she was either. Her shiny hair, flicking around with every movement of hers, her smile knocking the wind out of his lungs when she laughed at one of his lame jokes. Her eyes so wide and innocent, so naive to his hungry gaze eating her up as she sat in the front row. Logan often jerked off at night to the thought of bending her over the teacher’s desk, holding her against him as he kissed her and plowed roughly into her. Her little whines and moans of his name falling sweetly off of those pretty lips.

“Fuck,” Logan groaned as he came in his hand at the thought of her.

Seeing her at breakfast the next morning only made him harder. “Hi Professor!” She beamed sweetly at him, unaware of the mess she caused this morning in his bedroom.

“Not today, sweetheart,” He smirked. “Just Logan today.”

“Well then, good morning, Logan.” She said in a sultry tone and it got him going. “If you’re not subbing today, what’re you up to?” She asked, resting her chin on her palm as she leaned on the kitchen island to await his response.

Logan had been around long enough to pick up on the signs of a woman flirting and this was it. “I’ll probably just get that old bike in the shop.” He said, grabbing an apple from the fruit basket in between them.

“Can I watch?” She asked, sitting up excitedly with her arms stretched out in front of her so her arms gently squished her breasts together.

Fuck, Logan thought to himself as he nodded.

Her legs were crossed one over the other as she sat sideways on the motorcycle while she talked to him. Logan was working on the engine, trying to ignore her leg as it bounced lightly by his head. There was an anklet adorning her leg, the pendant was the initial of her name on the thin chain with a tiny diamond. Her legs were bare and long, the thigh-length skirt bunched up slightly from how she was sitting. Logan couldn’t stand it anymore and he grabbed her calf, a small gasp left her lips, but she smiled at him. “Professor?” She asked.

“Stop, please.” Logan sighed, her skin was so soft and his hand move up to her knee as he used her to get up to his feet. “You’ve gotta stop. I can’t take it.”

“Stop what?” She asked, feigning innocence though she knew what she was doing.

Logan took his hand off her knee and stood over her while he shook his head. “You’re a student.”

“Since when do you play by the rules?” She asked teasingly as she uncrossed her legs and stood up. Her hands smoothed over his chest, her eyes looking up at him in a pleading manner. Logan shuddered as she touched his shoulders and biceps, exposed by his tank top, and he found himself holding onto her hips. “C’mon, it’ll be so fun.” She stood on her toes and pressed a soft kiss to his neck. Logan bent down to her height as she moved her lips up to his jaw.

“Sweetheart, I can’t.” He groaned, aware that anyone could walk in on them. “Not here, not now.” He added, pushing her away though he kept her at arm’s length.

“But Logan,” She purred. “We’re here now.”

It was all too easy to sit him down on his bike so she could straddle him. Logan was weak the moment her thighs settled on his lap, his hands immediately caressing them under her skirt as she kissed on his neck and his jaw. Her manicured fingernails scratched lightly at the back of his neck, her hips rolled slowly into him, soft moans vibrated against his skin. “Baby, please,” Logan groaned, holding her down on his lap to push his erection against her. “I can’t.”

“Then let me.” She murmured, reaching between them and undoing his belt buckle. “Let’s just call this an extracurricular activity.”

[octuscle]

From tutor to rookie of the year

Hi, my name is Jake. My company has hired me to tutor a few students with poor grades. That's not necessarily the reason why I started working at the auditing company. But first of all, I'm new here and I'm not going to refuse right at the beginning of my career. And secondly, becoming a teacher had actually been an option for me. Maybe it's fate now or something.

The first lesson gets off to a very promising start. I almost have to tear myself apart to leave your office and get to school on time. But when I arrive, there is a yawning emptiness in the classroom. Only after fifteen minutes I hear noise in the corridor and a couple of football jocks barge in the door. A few still in football gear. And all obviously unshowered after training. Phew, it stinks. And as I look into the handsome, square-cut faces of the boys spraying with testosterone, I'm suddenly back at school. The small, clever but shy boy who, at best, the stars of the football team overlook and, at worst, stuff into the toilet. I clear my throat and say that I'm not here for fun either and that I'm asking for some attention. The boys barely react. Damn it, it's not my problem. I explain a few linear algebra problems on the blackboard and ignore the paper airplanes. I have my school-leaving certificate. I have my master's degree. And my bonus doesn't depend on the grades of these idiots. At least I hope so.

After the debacle of the first tutoring session, my appetite for the second is very dampened. But it was already hard enough to get this internship. The firm is one of the most prestigious accountancy firms in the city. And if my pro bono job as an intern is tutoring the idiots on the football team twice a week, I'll survive. Apart from the 60 hours a week in which I have to pore over balance sheets, that doesn't matter any more.

These days, the musclemen are even on time. And somehow nicer than last time. They even ask me reasonably sensible questions like whether you can predict the trajectories of footballs. I take this as an opportunity to tell them something about vector calculus. They collapse with laughter. "Bro, I was joking. And football isn't math. Football is strength and speed." I'm about to take a breath and say something about Newton and the relationship between force and speed. But instead of listening to me, the jocks start bragging to each other about their heroic stories on the field. And I can't help but listen to them spellbound. When the lesson is over, I look after them with fascination. I wish I could have been more like them at school.

Shit, because I'm the only nerd on the senior team who isn't a complete failure at sports, Coach made me give math tutoring to the football team. He thinks the Meatheads might have a little bit of respect for me. Shit! Them for me? I for them might be more correct! The thought of explaining math to my secret crush forms a wet spot in my Calvin Klein shorts.

I expected the boys to keep me waiting. If they were also punctual and disciplined off the pitch, they wouldn't need any help. And I don't want to tutor them any more than they want to be tutored. We reach a compromise. You listen to my math tutoring for half an hour. And then we'll go out onto the pitch for half an hour and play a bit of football. God knows I'm not unsportsmanlike. But soccer has somehow never been my sport. I'm more of a swimming pool or gym kind of guy. Team sports? Not really.

Shit, yeah, I'm no rocket scientist in math. But I have quite good grades in English and history. I'm not going to fail this year. Why the fuck do I have to go to tutoring with the other bros from the football team? I have no idea. But seriously, the tutor is a total loser. A beanpole in a stuffy shirt. The idiot even wears a tie. Seriously, who wears a tie these days? If I had to wear a tie, I'd change jobs. Or if I had to shower after training. Shit, these are just rules that can come from old fat men. Bros like me and my bros smell like test… Testo… Well that hormone stuff. Sweat, musk and Axe. If I didn't have to go straight to detention again, I'd let the loser smell my armpits… But I'm a sophomore on the team right now. Let the juniors and seniors do that.

"Jack, bro!" This is Chuck. The QB on the team. I can tell by his voice. And by his smell. And I'd also know it by the taste of his cheesy boner…. But he stays locked in his jockstrap cage right now. What a damn shame! "Bro, where were you in tutoring? The dean was there. You're in fucking trouble!" Shit, tutoring! I was at the gym. The other guys are all so pumped. I don't want to lag behind any longer. "Shit, dude, we said you were in the bathroom. The loser tutor didn't dare contradict us. But I think you have to let him suck you off so he doesn't tell on you." Hehehehehe, I like that idea. There are still 40 minutes until football practice… And I haven't cum yet today. "Is the loser still in the classroom?" I ask. Chuck nods. I fist bump him and say that I'll sort it out quickly.

If Chuck and Matt go to college next year, I have a good chance to be the QB. But until then I still have to build up a lot of mass. Those two are just in a whole different league. And I'm damn jealous of the hair on Matt's chest. You should see the bush under his arms. Dude, the man is going to be a fucking gorilla! Shit, I'm not half the man those two are. You can tell immediately by the size of the bulge in our compression shorts. Nevertheless, neither of them mind if I fuck them. But they like fucking me even more. Without eye contact. Otherwise it would be totally homo!

We skipped tutoring again today. Coch covers for us while we're in the gym or doing our laps on the cinder track outside. Nevertheless, it's still up in the air whether Chuck and Matt will be at college next year. And whether I'll be a junior by then. But screw it, NFL pros don't need to know math.

[feyhunter78]

Pink Pastels

Description: Single dad Miguel who replaced himself in a new universe meets his daughter's favorite teacher, you, who just happens to have a shitty boyfriend and doesn't yet know how much the O'Hara family wants you to stick around

Pt 2

I cracked y'all, and I blame TikTok

“Ms. Y/N, watch me, watch me!” Gabi calls, waving her arms in the air to catch your attention.

“I’m watching, go ahead.” You encourage her, smiling brightly when she does a successful cartwheel, her hair spilling from the loose braid one of her classmates had done for her during quiet reading.

You know teachers aren’t supposed to have favorite students, you tell each and every one of your students that you don’t have favorites, that you adore all of them equally. But Gabriella O’Hara holds a special place in your heart.

“Did you see, did you see?” She asks excitedly, running up to you, dark curls tumbling wildly around her shoulders.

You kneel down, and brush the hair back from her face, still smiling brightly. “I did, that was amazing, who taught you that?”

“My dad, he helped me practice.” She says, giving you a toothy grin, one front tooth missing from where she’d knocked it out eating an apple yesterday.

A tear-filled lunch that had been until you reminded her that now the Tooth Fairy would come visit her. The idea of a sparkly fairy leaving her money in exchange for her tooth dried her tears quickly, and soon enough she was proudly showing off her lost tooth (safely contained in a Ziploc bag) to anyone who would listen.

“Well, it seems like your dad is a very good teacher, then.” You say, giving her shoulder a quick squeeze before her friends dragged her back onto the playground.

You stood back up and rejoined the other first grade teachers.

“She’s adorable.” Janey says, nodding at Gabi who was playing tag with a few other girls.

Janey taught in the classroom next to yours. You started teaching at the same time, but she’d been hired at Steve Rodgers Elementary a year before you. Janey was the first friend you made when you got hired, and you soon became close friends inside and outside school.

“She’s so well-behaved, too; I wish I knew who her mom was, so I could thank her.” You say, a slight grimace on your face, when you watched two boys from your class begin to shove each other.

You called out to them, and they stopped, giving you guilty looks before running towards the swing sets.

“There’s no mom, she walked out on Gabi and her father after she was born.” Melissa says, her arms crossed over her chest as she watched her kids.

Melissa was a senior teacher at Rodgers Elementary. A tough love works the best teacher with the confidence of a god, and a nose for gossip like you couldn’t believe.

“Oh, that’s so sad.” You say, your heart hurting for the sweet little girl who always wanted to sit next to you during story time. Gabi had told you about her dad many times, but never mentioned her mom, you just assumed she was away for work often, or that they didn’t have many things in common.

You looked at Gabi, watching as she helped one of her friends tie their shoes. Sitting beside them and patiently demonstrating on her own sneakers. How could anyone walk away from her?

“It is, but her dad…he’s hot, I’ve seen him in the pickup line, he’s like a male model or something.” Melissa says, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

You gave her an incredulous look. “Melissa! That’s a parent you’re talking about.”

She shrugs. “Hey, I’m married, I’m not gonna do anything, but one of you could.”

Janey turns her head to hide her laughter, and you smack her arm. “Janey, hitting on a child’s parent is wildly inappropriate, besides I have Todd.”

Melissa snorts, and you bite the inside of your cheek. Todd was not a popular man around the school, especially after what he pulled on your birthday.

The bell rings signaling the end of recess and your kids begin to line up, ending your conversation as the three of you are pulled in different directions.

There’s a knock at your door, and you look up from grading papers, to see Janey. “Hey y/n, Gabi’s father is here to see you?”

You shoot her a look of confusion and begin to tidy up your desk, then stand, smoothing out the wrinkles in your baby pink dress. “Oh, yeah, sure, let him in.”

Janey disappears, and the space is filled by a giant of a man. He towers over the desks, making them look even tinier than they already were. His shoulders are massive, his biceps you swear are bigger than your thighs, though you could be exaggerating, but you’re honestly not sure, and when he fixes those dark brown eyes on you, and suddenly the floor beneath you feels unsteady.

“Mr. O’Hara, how can I help you?” You manage to get out, motioning for him to take a seat in front of his desk.

“I’ll stand.” He says curtly. His voice is deep, settling in your bones, the faint whisper of an accent, and confidence behind his words makes you nervous for a moment, then you recognize the feeling, not nerves…something else, something much more inappropriate.

“Oh—okay, is there something you need, is Gabi okay?” You ask, realizing she isn’t in the classroom with him.

“She’s fine, just sitting outside with her book.” He explains, his eyes piercing straight through you.

“Margaret and Margarita, right? Your daughter an exceptional reader, in both English and Spanish, you should be very proud.” You say, giving him a smile, hoping the compliment will soften his expression and make it seem like he didn’t want to murder you.

Melissa was right, Mr. O’Hara was gorgeous. With a strong jawline, high cheekbones, a mess of thick dark hair, and perfectly formed lips, all tapering down to the body of an Adonis, clothed in a white button up that stretched across his broad chest, and black slacks that clung to his muscled legs like it was their job and rent was due next week. But his expression was flat, his eyes cold, his stance rigid.

“Why did you lie to my daughter?” He asks flatly, looking down at you, as if you were a bug on his windshield.

You blink up at him in confusion. “I’m sorry?”

“You should be.”

An indignant expression flashed across your face before you could stop it, and you saw Mr. O’Hara’s lip twitch. “I’m not apologizing, I’m asking for clarification.”

“You told Gabi that the Tooth Fairy was going to visit her, I wasn’t going to do the Tooth Fairy , she doesn’t need false hope.” He snaps, leaning forward slightly, towering over you.

The hair on your arms stands up, but you brush it off as a stab of guilt goes through you. He was a single dad, maybe he couldn’t afford such frivolous traditions. “Mr. O’Hara, if this is a financial issue, I am so sorry. I should’ve tried to comfort her another way, my sincerest apologizes.”

“This isn’t a financial issu—comfort her?” He stops midsentence, his brows furrowing.

“She was upset because she lost her teeth, it’s her first one, a ton of kids get a little scared, but the promise of a reward usually clears those tears right up.” You tell him, holding your hands up in a pacifying way as you talk.

His eyes dart down to your hands, then back to your eyes, lingering for a moment on your lips. “I didn’t—Gabi didn’t tell me she was scared.”

“She was probably a little embarrassed. She talks all the time about how brave you are and how she wants to be just like you when she grows up.”

His expression softens.

“I actually—”you turn to rifle through your desk until you find Gabi’s latest assignment—“have something for you.”

He takes the paper from you, and you can’t help but notice how his hands dwarf yours, his tanned skin is scattered with small scars, and his calloused fingertips brush against yours. “What is this?”

“I had the kids draw a picture of their hero and then write a few sentences about why that person is their hero. I think she was one of a few who didn’t draw Spiderman.” You laugh softly.

He cradles the paper and a soft smile spreads across his face as he reads her writing under his breath. “Porque mi papá lucha contra los monstruos en mi armario.”

“I had to look that one up, my Spanish is terrible.” You admit sheepishly, watching as he reads her words over and over again.

“Thank you, for this, and for comforting Gabi.” He says, folding the paper carefully and sliding it in his pocket.

“Of course, I love Gabi, she’s such a pleasure to have in class.”

He looks at you, really looks at you, and you’re struck by how similar he and Gabi are. They have the same nose, the same almost curls that frame their faces, and when he tilts his head ever so slightly to the side you almost burst out laughing. You can’t count how many times you’ve seen Gabi do that exact same thing.

“You know Gabi talks a lot about you, how pretty you are, she was right.” His voice is low, smooth, and sends a jolt through you. Then he takes his leave, with you standing there stunned, wondering what the hell just happened to you.

Eternal Tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir

[starsexplodeatnight]

Ghost x Pre-school teacher!Reader

A request from @maxicorn !!! My first request! And its a good one!!!

It was dark in the back of the plane. But he knew where he was, the fuselage of the plane jerking subtly with their descent.

Simon was home.

Didn't feel like it yet. His mind was still smothered in an oppressive slog of adrenaline that refused to yield and let him relax.

He used to not care. He never had anyone to come home too. Now that he does? He notices. Or really, he cares enough to acknowledge things he's ignored because they worry you.

As much as he hates to worry you, its nice. Nice to have someone who cares.

The door creaks open, blinding them with the light from outside. England was fucking sunny, go figure.

Battered but not bloody, Ghost makes his way down the plane and his feet hit tarmac. It felt good...

The sight that met him was even better.

There you stood, beaming at him. Hair whipping around from the wind kicked up from the plane landing. And all of your students were lined up in front of you.

They all had paper plate masks on their faces, all of them crafted to look like skulls. Mimicking him. Oh god, that fucking hurt his heart.

You had yours propped on top your head so he could see your face.

"Lieutenant!!!" "Ghost!" "Mr Ghost!" All of them cheer, bouncing on place. They all obediently stayed put, they'd promised best behavior if they got to see him land.

How did you manage it? He stood dumbfounded, staring like an idiot.

Laswell, she stood next to you with a miniscule smile... She tips her head towards you and raised her brows minutely. Approval of his choice.

Ghost lumbers over, dropping his duffle and looks down at the tiny humans. They all held out gifts, masks still in place. Macaroni necklaces, pictures of what vaguely resembled him and hand crafted... Stuff... They children all showed their idol.

Simon laughs, a small sound before lurching forward. He snatched your paper plate mask off your head, held it up to sheild your faces as he simultaneously pulls up his mask up. Exposing the lower half of his scruffy face.

The shocked look on your face was worth those 4 fucking rotten months away... So were the disgusted gagging of the little ones.

They crowd him, tugging at his gear, begging for stories as you stare at him star struck. That was the first time he's kissed you in public! Infront of what you believe to be his boss!! You could be wrong but, still!!!

Your face heats up immediately, Ghost chuckles. "Come on." He grunts, grabbing his duffle in one hand and the lead rope for the kids in the other. "Lets get them home."

You try and take the rope from him as the kids all grab on. He let go, only to envelop your hand in his so you both lead the kids off the tarmac...

It was so much fucking better than nice to have someone care...

Years later? Every single one of your students remember you and Simon ... Especially the ones who got to see him come home that day. Some even still have their paper masks, somewhere.

They'll call out to you in the street if they see you. Run up and hug the both of you... The little girls who used to play tea with Simon now tweens, run up and all squeeze him...

(They all have high standards for dating now. If they aren't treated like how Mr.Ghost treated Ms._ then they can beat it!)

They coo over your new baby, all begging to be your babysitter... All begging to be back in your lives again....

So many people care about Simon Riley… he can’t hardly believe it. Even to this day.

Thank you @maxicorn for this!!! It was fun to stew on while I was at work!!!

[snivyartjpeg]

Yuma Month Day 26 - Role Swap

god i was excited for this one. it first started off as a joke, but the more i thought about it, the more interesting this swap became. so here's my massive lore dump of changes that'd happen in the story beneath the cut (spoiler warning):

i think, fundamentally, yuma and yakou are very similar characters. they're both very protective and kindhearted, with a strong sense of justice and a penchant for attracting terrible luck. because of this, some things would remain the same, such as the NDA's dynamics with their doormat chief as well amnesia!yakou's massive unpaid intern energy. i think yakou would be pretty similar to how he behaved in the light novel- a bit more optimistic and naive, like yuma. but there are two key differences between them that'd make this a different story, especially in ch 4: yuma has a forte, and yakou is very selfish. so here's some changes:

yakou's wife is his shinigami now, as you can see, while shinigami is yuma's dead wife. i think mrs furio would act cooler than shinigami. she'd still be playful, but she takes her job more seriously. also she hands yakou the solution keys normally without throwing up. they still have to do the dance and mouth sword thing tho. and the other stuff. that's just death god protocol

shinigami (or in this case the unnamed Mrs. Kokohead but i will still be calling her shinigami for convenience sake) was a scientist at amaterasu who studied forensics and thanatology instead of regenerative medicine. this also means that the pill she gives zombie yuma is not going to bring him back, but instead grant the zombie homunculi a peaceful, painless, but permanent death

speaking of zombie yuma, he's the homunculus now! yakou is 100% human and also doesnt have a forte. he's still number one, but instead of having a forte he's just that good at solving mysteries

yes this means makoto looks like yakou now. sorry makotoheads. i think he'd have really long, shaggy hair dyed to be like. idk. black or something. also he's more clean shaven bc stubble with a mask on is a sensory nightmare

yuma still cant cook. he subsists entirely on takeout, meat buns, black coffee, and beer. he's still in a lot of debt and under a lot of stress and his personality is essentially "what if canon number one just gave up"

he doesn't smoke though. he tried once and got into the worst coughing fit

imma say it right now. kurumi is not a love interest. yakou likely disguises himself as a faculty member instead (also i think one of the teachers gets a crush on fem yakou bc i just know she'd be hot)

ANYWAY what about chapter 4? im SO glad you asked! because here's where things get spicy!

so, lets start with the dead wife. shinigami catches onto huesca's inhumane research and she's just as adamant about bringing the truth to light as she always is. she blows the whistle, so he blows her up. yuma investigates, but they dont let him look any further, yada yada, yuma stews in his misery for five years

yomi sends in the evidence to motivate yuma to kill huesca, and makoto lets it happen because a dead huesca would be convenient. he even introduces the hitman, fully expecting yuma to make use of him

yuma doesnt. in fact, he wants to kill huesca with his own hands. and now that these detectives are here, he can do it and even return alive. the thing is, he doesn't want to put them in danger, so he chooses to do almost everything alone (sound familiar?)

his plan is simple:

ask desuhiko for a peacekeeper uniform. desuhiko trusts him enough to take "i want to investigate kanai ward's ultimate secret by infiltrating their ranks" as an answer. he does, however, let yakou know about this as an offhand comment before the mystery ever begins

hold fubuki's hand. it doesnt really matter how. she'll gladly allow it because she's fubuki. he stores her time powers and heads out the sub. yakou also learns this as an offhand comment played off as a joke (maybe fubuki affectionately comments about how she never expected the chief's hands to be so soft... idk. there has to be some way for yakou to have this as a future clue)

use his peacekeeper status to sneak into amaterasu HQ and demand a functioning ama-pal from that one creepy researcher

use ama-pal + fubuki's borrowed powers to bypass huesca's security. sneak the bot past the hard-of-hearing doctor and press the button to shut off security

this would probably alert huesca, but since the doctor never received a warning, yuma has enough time to rush in and stab him before he realizes what's going on

leave HQ while still in uniform, dispose of the disguise once he's safe, and return to the NDA like nothing happened. success!

soooo.... yakou, on that same day, decides to investigate amaterasu HQ with makoto

all the while, vivia has his suspicions about yuma's actions and keeps an eye on him in spectral mode. he... basically witnessed the whole thing, so he gets up off his ass and decides to follow yakou to the lab because he has a Very Bad Feeling about this

just like canon, he senses the death god and deduces that our protag has been killing off murderers, and so he wants to protect his chief as well as his peace and quiet (his dynamic with yuma would be the same as his dynamic with yakou, since it's entirely believable for yuma to treat vivia with the same kindness yakou did)

yakou tries to speak to huesca, but surprise! security is disabled and he's dead in the lab! no one else at amaterasu liked huesca enough to check on him, so yakou and makoto are the first ones at the scene of the crime. yakou, of course, decides to start investigating this murder

vivia somehow sneaks into the lab (dont ask me how) and confronts yakou, threatening him with his boxcutter and adamantly imploring him to stop pursuing this particular mystery in the same way he did yuma in canon. unfortunately, this attracts attention, and now they're in trouble (maybe even yomi's there to fetch his files). at this point, yakou has enough solution keys, so he panics and goes right into the labyrinth (and maybe others can enter for another reason that isnt coalescence idk)

so... they go in the labyrinth... vivia tries to stop him every step of the way, until the answer is right in front of them

yakou kills yuma with his own hands. there's no stab wounds or toxic gas to leave any doubt. yakou begins to question what good his justice really does. it doesnt even save them from their predicament, just like the other deaths. instead, makoto ex machina comes in to save them, and hands yakou a small black box

when they return to the agency, everyone is heartbroken over their chief, who seemingly died out of nowhere. fubuki tried rewinding time, but to no avail. halara tried everything to wake him up, knowing it's futile. desuhiko stood aside, feeling completely helpless. and yakou and vivia return looking like they just came back from hell

they barely get the chance for a funeral before the knockout gas trap activates... you know the rest

AAAAND SCENE! so that's my extremely long winded lore dump about this au. i thought about it Way Too Much but god it's so interesting to me. i love these characters and swapping them was immensely fun

[gynandromorph]

god this shit took forever to sketch. another NofNA emulation comic. it reminds me of the midterms in secretary, for obvious reasons, but Legend is sort of an inverse secretary situation, where she is exceptional at fighting, but wants to write.

let me see what i can remember...

PS, the blue-eyed black lemur, has been friends with Legend since their mutual first season at college, as mentioned above her reference sketch... they probably became more friendly after being paired up to peer edit each others' work. PS has since graduated from college and works as a markscraft. Legend frequently commissions PS to scribe for her, not only because they are friends, but because PS is one of the few markscrafts in the area who isn't a rodent. many primates go into law or medicine. mainly Legend commissions notetaking in classes -- she is too insecure to share her stories. PS has a more relaxed, informal personality, and i tried to get that across -- i think it's relevant to why she decided to become a markscraft instead of pursuing more intense study. still, i also tried to get across that they are good friends, not just scribe and customer, particularly with the amount of touching that PS does. the impulse to touch and groom is probably innate for her as a primate. there isn't as much information about her species, but in ring-tailed lemurs, lemurs usually only groom based on the strongest bonds, rather than more communal aggregate grooming as a sort of social currency. i honestly don't know what PS would need to note during finals, but i think Legend just Wanted her there anyway.

the bird, DL, fighting the squirrel, GG, is a grey shrike. i imagine him as an average student in the middle of his education, but i think he is in the class for combat purposes, because pressure point manipulation can be incredibly powerful, more so if from a less expected species like a bird.

mr. deciding is a much more serious, no-nonsense teacher, possibly due to his specialty. when you're teaching students how to explode a kidney with a handshake, you probably just play it safe and try to put the fear of god into them before any kidneys get exploded. i wanted this class to have a much heavier emphasis on safety of the participants than the class in secretary, with a more focused goal than "who can beat the shit out of each other better." i think the goal of fighting to show off knowledge here is still Fucking Insane, but it's just. their culture, i guess. you can technically "move" your pressure points, so being able to defend yourself by utilizing this knowledge can also show off what you've retained. the mouse next to him is a proctor, who is an extra teacher brought in to judge and often write for another teacher, but primarily as a peacekeeper and bouncer. in classes where a student can theoretically totally disable a teacher by just touching them once, the precaution is seen as necessary. the mouse is probably a combat-oriented point invocation instructor.

the mandrill, MK, is a first-season or first-year student -- i assume that one class, from midterms to finals, is a season, as secretary seems to start near autumn. midterms have snow, and finals are during early spring. anyway, that's tangential. i think he's very new to the educational system. i pictured him as a medical student. in his fighting style, i made him more defensive; he doesn't really know nearly as much about attacking an opponent in a fight. he does think at least about his opponent's most immediate reactions, but doesn't have enough experience with fighting to think ahead to the degree that Legend does. you can see him make the same mistake that Legend did against Machinations, which disables his non-dominant hand. needless to say, he will probably always be aware of headbutt proximity now. he attempts to use two factures in the fight within a style meant to evoke debilitating vertigo by manipulating the connection between the occular, vestibular, and proprioceptive systems. it's obvious that he created the style from his medical classes. it is fairly empty as far as styles go. interrupted facture: nystagmus, which causes the world to spin around the opponent by involuntarily twitching the eyes back and forth. second facture: strabismus, which misaligns the pupils, primarily impeding aim. denied by Legend because a honey badger does not rely on vision or a vestibular system as much as a primate does -- not something he really considered when making the style. factures that never ended up being used: pursuit, which forces the target to follow a spinning image of themselves instead of looking where they should; and mask's lasting, which forcibly initiates saccadic masking, suppressing the intake of new visual information altogether.

the large bird is a bateleur. the mouse is just a regular house mouse. the lizard is an ornate sandveld lizard. the opponent of the lizard is a common mole-rat, also called an african mole-rat (even though most species of mole-rats live in africa). the monkey god i'm not super sure but i believe it's just a vervet monkey. the other mouse is also a common house mouse.

GG is a second-year student, which is the last year for a rodent. i think she's been kind of aimless -- she thinks incredibly fast as a squirrel, and finds solving problems in the moment to be a much more successful endeavor than trying to plan ahead. she doesn't worry about the future and doesn't ruminate on the past much. she's aware that she isn't the best ever and doesn't apply herself as much as others, but it also doesn't particularly bother her. kind of ironic, given the aesop she slops onto Legend after the fight. i imagine that she will eventually choose the name Serendipity. i tried to write her lack of foresight, but compensatory quick thinking in both fights. like the shrike, GG is a combat-oriented student. the style she briefly introduces at the beginning is called fanciful flower's delightful blight. it is based on the deadly nightshade flower and its berries -- which are toxic, obviously, and a hallucinogenic. squirrels flick their tails for many reasons, and the most common reason is simply a default flicking to attract predators. their tails are designed to "deglove" easily; if a predator lunges for their tail, which is the moving part of them, the skin and fur will tear off, and the squirrel can escape. delightful blight utilizes the attention-grabbing flicking of the squirrel's tail as a nightshade plant to induce a trance-like state. the berries represent temptations so much more pleasing than what you ought to focus on. a nice berry and a flower to smell are so much nicer than struggling in a fight. even when you resist them, they linger in your mind, and "plant seeds" when the berry falls as self-restraint is worn down over repeated abstinence from the temptation. factures induce hallucinations and nausea. she primarily uses the base rodent style to fight Legend here, but also uses base squirrel style twists, which include more acrobatics, backflipping, and contortions.

the two things that really catch Legend off-guard use limbs that she doesn't have, and most opponents don't have -- elbows long enough to use defensively, and a long, rope-like tail. she is otherwise supposed to be fairly adept at analyzing what an opponent will do, usually a few steps ahead, related to her ability to fabricate narratives quickly. you can see her also come up with a lie for kicking GG fairly quickly... she was going to say the impulse was in her legs because she was trying to move away from GG's strike.

anyway if any part of this fight is like... unfathomable i can probably explain. i've already been typing for way too long, lmfao

[physalian]

Writing Tone #2: Avoiding Manufactured Sincerity

There’s a scene in season 5 of My Hero Academia where two beloved teachers have been brought to some high security prison to interrogate a captured villain that turns out to be a brainwashed childhood friend of theirs. The scene is really dramatic, these two teachers are screaming at this guy, heartbroken, and when I saw the episode (shortly before quitting the entire show mid-episode over how bored I was) I was not at all as outraged and horrified as they were.

It was so tonally jarring, and so unfounded within the plot, that it was almost uncomfortable to watch. The villain they’re interrogating isn’t unfamiliar, but the plot-twist-surprise childhood friend is a stranger no one but these two care about.

I didn’t care, couldn’t empathize with why they were upset, knew nothing about their relationship with the guy beyond the ham-handed flashbacks given right that moment. I wasn’t prepared to mourn the loss of this random character, wasn’t primed ahead of time with the idea that this was a possibility to dread the scene before it happened. I was just waiting for it to be over and when it finally was, the impact it had on me was a resounding: Well that was weird. Now back to the plot.

Unfounded sincerity is the uncomfortably ugly step-sibling of plots that are starved of sincerity—look at most of Phase 4, but really, starting with Thor: Ragnarok in the MCU. Many Marvel properties are afraid to embrace the emotional moments and resort to bad jokes to laugh at themselves before the audience can laugh at them. Because how dare a late-stage superhero story about mythical gods be at all sincere in its relationships, its quiet moments, its tragedies. Nope, time for jokes.

Unfounded sincerity is when a story goes far harder with the drama, the love-declarations, the angst, the humor, where it’s trying really hard to convince the audience to care and it just isn’t working.

This happens when arguments start out of nowhere, as well, when characters explode at each other in a heated screaming match that hasn’t been left to fester for nearly long enough, undercooked and hard to swallow.

This happens when characters fall suddenly, madly in love with each other with zero dubious intervention to explain away the sudden passion.

It happens particularly when characters care a whole heck of a lot about someone the audience doesn’t, at the expense of characters the audience is invested in.

It happens when characters have emotional breakdowns and start crying over what ends up reading like spilled milk. When stoic and strong characters break over something they normally would never, for ~drama~.

This is usually both a tone and pacing issue, and a serious case of telling. The author hasn’t done any of the work ramping up a situation or relationship for proper delivery of these emotionally charged moments that are written like critical character beats we’re supposed to care deeply about.

So how does this happen?

1. The author *really* wants this scene, but writes it too early into the story

Unless there’s foul play involved, or this is a romantic comedy that isn’t supposed to be a realistic and healthy depiction of how romance works, characters suddenly declaring love for each other at the cost of their own well-being, their own character arc and journey, and their other motivations can be very frustrating to read.

But the author wants to get to the Good Stuff, so they coast on the “male + female leads = relationship” expectation without writing the why (and so ensures the rise of so many gay ships in the process). Or the male + male leads” or what have you.

2. The author cannot fluidly change tone and characters explode, instead of simmer

An argument that comes out of nowhere can really take your audience out of a scene. Your characters suddenly look ridiculous and your audience can’t follow what’s going on or why they’re so upset. This is different than a character exploding seemingly out of nowhere, but who we know has been building resentment for dozens of pages and loses it over something otherwise inconsequential.

These scenes are painfully, obviously there for manufactured drama and don’t feel natural. These characters don’t feel like people, but playthings, action figures manipulated by the hands of the author.

3. The characters involved are underdeveloped

As in the My Hero scene mentioned above, of the three characters in the scene, the “friend” we’re supposed to care about is a non-entity. The two teachers could have lost their minds over this guy’s sudden death, or the reveal that he turned traitor, or that he murdered younglings and puppies and kittens, to the same emotional impact, because we don’t care about this guy (or, I don’t, at least. I didn’t, and shouldn’t have to read the manga).

You can of course have characters who grieve non-entities, like the fridged wife trope. The difference is the audience knows we’re not supposed to know or care about that lady and the character she never was. This happens pre-plot, not mid-season 5. The frigid wife is the catalyst for the character we then come to know, not a character whose death radically changes our heroes from the people we’ve already established.

4. The tonal jump is just too extreme from the established rules of the story

Abrupt changes in tone can be very tricky to pull off, and almost always fail when it surrounds an abrupt shift in character dynamics (as opposed to something more plot-related). As in, your lighthearted comedy suddenly stops the plot so two characters can scream at each other, when this level of emotional charge hasn’t been established as a possibility.

Or the aforementioned emotional breakdown that just leaves audiences uncomfortable like the awkward friend trying to soothe a weeping companion.

—

Unfortunately, the fixes to these situations are either delete that entire scene, or go back and do a lot of rewriting so there’s enough build-up to justify its existence. Go back and write in that simmering resentment, all the little frustrations, a pre-existing tension within the relationship that is always primed to snap.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder and there’s a reason the “slowburn” is so popular. Setting out from the beginning to write a fast-paced, passionate romance tells your readers to expect exaggerated displays of emotion.

My favorite musical is Moulin Rouge. This movie is insane. Everyone is hyperbolically emotional and nothing is half-assed. The dances, the belting singing, the costumes, set-design, editing, the declarations of love– they’re all dialed up to 11. So characters screaming their love or rage from the rooftops is a *lot* but you’re prepared for it from the opening scene, knowing exactly what kind of movie this is.

Even if you don’t start your story with the level of drama it will eventually reach, there should still be some sort of progression when it comes to character drama.

Last Airbender didn’t open episode 2 with the emotional intensity of Zuko and Azula’s last Agni Kai… but it did show you that this isn’t just a lighthearted comedy in episode 3, with the reveal of Gyatso’s body and Aang’s violently emotional reaction.

Speaking of episode 3, they didn’t throw in Gyatso out of nowhere. We know from the show so far that a) Aang is the last of his kind, and b) he doesn’t know this. Everything leading up to this reveal is lighthearted, sure, but with that undercurrent of dread, waiting for Aang to see for himself, waiting for that other shoe to drop.

So some things to keep in mind are:

Prime the audience with dropping that first shoe, make them aware of the building tension (romantic, aggressive, grief, or otherwise), even if not all the characters are aware.

Build that tension. If your characters will eventually explode, let them be mildly irritated first, then annoyed, then frustrated, then angry, then raging until they can’t contain it anymore.

Make sure every party involved in this dramatic moment is someone the audience actually cares about, not just someone they’re told to care about.

TL;DR: Don’t pull the trigger prematurely. It’s most obvious with suddenly passionate arguments, characters flinging insults and hurts the audience isn’t prepared for and doesn’t know about, in effort to move the plot along before it’s fully cooked.

So unless there’s some drugs or fairy magic involved, or one of these characters has a gun to their head forcing them to do this right now, people don’t just explode in a rage without some buildup first. People can explode in a rage over a seemingly inconsequential and unrelated thing, but they’re likely already upset and this one little thing is the final straw. Audiences love the anticipation of what that final straw will be, and whether the explosive drama is rage or romance, “slowburn” is immensely popular for a reason.

[heartfullofleeches]

I think Sunshine prince will be trust fund kid with brag a docious ton of Lamborghini in moderen au

Works for me

Modern Au Sunshine/"Innocent" Prince/Stoic Bodyguard Reader

The "Prince" is a spoiled brat with living parents that have the entire city under their thumb. He's given the title for his looks and charms; the sweetest little devil you could probably met - until you get on his bad side. When he's in one of his moods, generations will be ruined if anyone dares try to talk to him, even if it's to cheer him up. The week he found out his parents were getting him a guard - nobody was safe. Everyone's favorite teacher lost their job of thirty years for giving him a quick pep talk while he was seething. This all came after he had an altercation with another student for play flirting with their partner though he was the clear victor. His parents thought the world was too dangerous for their sweet baby. They thought he was a child - weak. He'd show them. He'd ruin his guards life and make them regret stepping one foot his house and-

"Lunar, meet Y/n. They will be attending the same college as you, but outside their studies they will be with you at all times."

And-

"A pleasure, Sir."

And....oh. He's never been called that before. Makes him feel like he's aged a century - but he likes the respect. You aren't as ugly as he thought you'd be either.

" I hear you have a reputation of being called a prince at your college. Would you prefer if I called you "Your Majesty" instead?"

There's no hint of mockery in your tone. You're serious.... Is it to late to take back what he said about ruining your life?

Princey here is all over his hired protection. He really lives up the "harmless babe, silly clumsy boy who can do no wrong." part of his act when you're around. He prefers bottled soda over canned because he can get you to crack them open for him and compliment your strength. He kicks open the doors of your class mid-lecture and whines about being hungry a whole two hours before break. You're quick to scold him for the latter, and your intervention plus his self dumbifcation leads to let mishaps among your peers - and eyes on you. Nobody is smart enough to make a move on you in his line of sight, but you pretty much become the school eye candy when he's off on his own.

The Prince moves out of his parent's four story mansion and into your dorm for a taste of that domestic bliss. Your living space gets upgraded to a two bedroom apartment because even his parents are wise enough to know putting you in one room would lead to trouble - but he weasels his way into your bed most nights regardless. He pushes his innocent act a little too far when he tries to get in the shower or bath with you, but rubbing his face on the towel you used is fine enough for now. Unbridled, unfiltered rage is casted at whoever may need your aid. You are his knight guard, and his alone.

-

[Bodyguard Guard Reader carries an unconscious peer out of the pool after they nearly drowned, their lips pale blue.]

"Oh my God. I don't think they're breathing -"

Bodyguard Reader: Don't worry - I know CPR

Prince Yan, pulling up with a vacuum: I got you covered!

-

Prince Yan: You pathetic, worthless, no good, low life, homewrecking, stupid, repulsive whor-

[Bodyguard Reader walks in]

Prince Yan: Y/n! I've been looking for you everywhere! Can you peel this apple for me with your teeth?

-

[Some thugs Prince paid off walking in limping and covered in bruises]

"Dude what the hell!? You said this was a joke

Prince Yan: The joke was it's funny you think Y/n would allow anyone to put hands on me. I would say you should see what they can do with a watermelon or pumpkin and their thighs - but if you did I'd have to skin you all alive

[jd-loves-fiction]

𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐓𝐢𝐞

Person B has to get dressed up for a nice event. B is struggling with their tie/dress/suit and can’t get it right. Person A is surprisingly good at fixing it and Person B asks them how they did it.

✦ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Joshua Madika x GN!Reader

✦ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff + suggestive

✦ 𝐰𝐜: 819

✦ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: none

✦ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: Just a short something cuz he just looks too good :)

“God! Come on…” Joshua mutters to himself, fiddling with his troublesome tie as you walk in to put away some laundry. You set it aside and lean against the doorway for a moment, just to watch his handsome face scrunch up in mild frustration as the silky fabric slips from his grasp once more, “Are you going to help me? Or is this sight too amusing?”

“Hmm… nearly.” You tease, approaching him slowly to stand between him and the mirror and taking the tie from his slippery hands. Your own hands work quickly, almost automatically – all while Joshua ogles your ass in the mirror.

Lost in the wonderful sight, he’s caught off guard by you stepping back, “You’re done?” you nod, fiddling with his lapel and shirt collar. God, he looks damn good.

“How– That was so fast.” His long lashes blink in shock, he should’ve asked you to help him before now. “When did you learn to do it so fast? You don't even wear ties?”

“Oh, well…” You trail off, suddenly put on the spot and going back to fix minute details in his appearance to distract yourself – the curl fallen to his forehead, a speck of dust on his jacket, a small wrinkle on his shirt.

“This story’s a bit… unusual, so bear with me.” Josh nods in understanding, now entirely focused on watching your features that begin feeling warmer at the attention.

“So, remember I said I took psychology in high school?” A nod, “On one, seemingly random, class the teacher told us – without context – to learn how to tie a tie. And that he’d be grading us based on how well we did in the next class. Me, boasting the absolutely stellar combo of ‘perfectionist’ and ‘people pleaser', went to ask my father to teach me. Turns out, he's never worn a tie in his life and my mother was even less helpful.”

Skepticism would be a gentle way of describing the expression on your boyfriend’s face, so you raise your hand as if to wordlessly tell him to wait until you’re done before judging, “Why… would he ask you to do that?”

“I haven't the faintest, Josh. It was the guy’s last year as a teacher – I feel like he didn't care about making sense anymore. Anyway–” He pulls you with him while sitting down on the edge of the bed, giving your tired neck a rest from having to look up at him as you speak.

“Long story short, Youtube tutorials were surprisingly effective – I got full marks on the next class, even though I feel like that didn't end up mattering at all. I guess the knowledge just stuck from then.” You add sheepishly, adjusting (playing with) Joshua’s gorgeous curls as he takes you in silently. So focused on getting the details right, you barely noticed the unwavering attention he leveled you with during your little speech, cowering now that you do, “What’s that look for?”

His hand reaches for your cheek, brushing it with a tenderness that warms the skin beneath, “You’re just… everything.”

“Are you just saying that because you don't know what to say to that story or what?” You giggle, playfully gripping a handful of curls to direct his gorgeous nose to brush yours, both going cross eyed in the process.

“No, I mean it.” He whispers softly, long lashes fluttering against his cheeks as his lips graze yours, “You’re everything…” to me, he wants to say but the urge to lay his lips against yours is far too strong. The kiss is slow and sensual, almost enough to distract you from the fact that his hands begin wandering down your body, “Don't you have somewhere to be?”

“It can wait.”

“Hmm, not what you said this morning…” You whisper, matching his suggestive tone and doing nothing to discourage his actions – you don't want him to go, of course you don't, but you clearly recall him stressing over how important this dinner is just a few hours prior.

“Well, that was this morning. Before I discovered there were productive things for me to be doing.” His lips descend on your neck, sucking on it gently as your breaths hasten together.

“Me, you mean?” You tease and he hums approvingly, nimble fingers pulling back the band of your leggings to let it slap against your skin. Focusing becomes harder every second he keeps touching you, but a glimpse at the clock on the wall tells you it’s time to end the fun.

“I think I can wait… The dinner, however, can't.” With great effort, you tear yourself from his warm embrace, delighting in his childish whine while stepping back out of the reach of his long limbs. “Get to it.”

He groans deeply as you step out to give him space to prepare, secretly hoping he doesn't come back too tired to pick up where you left off…

[threepandas]

Bad End: Cold War

The receiving room was beautifully furnished. Neither overly ostentatious nor fussy in design. But it had a... coldness to it. This entire god forsaken building was, artfully hidden fireplaces be damned.

And it wasn't just the temperature.

The North may be a cold place, but the people there had always been a hardy one. Kind, if stoic. Not the sort for empty words and flamboyant gestures. So to see a building like this? One so very, very COLD? It spoke of something rotten. Something gone terribly wrong and far beyond control, hidden away out in the countryside where no one could stop it in time.

And it had.

And it DID.

And oh, how we SUFFERED for it, didn't we?

I didn't understand what went wrong. I knew, KNEW, because I was no fool, that the Story would change. Since I was remove a load bearing antagonist, how could it NOT? But... well, I did not wish to die. Certainly not for some other girl's love story. I refused to suffer. To be humiliated. To lead a life of pain and degradation. Just so she might frolic about with men, only to ultimately end up on the throne.

She would either have to find her way to greatness on her own merit, or settle of mediocrity. But it would NOT be built upon the back of my suffering. I gracefully bowed out. Took leave of the stage. And? Comported myself as befit a daughter of my house.

They were not... the most open. In fact, they struggled to connect. To offer or even receive comforts of any kind. But my family LOVED with a fierceness that would lead armies and burn nations. We were ABSOLUTE. And we? Stand TOGETHER. Always.

I would never forget. No matter how many days pass by. WHO I first saw when I opened my eyes. Clustered around my tiny form, rumbled and undignified in a way I would never see them again, with eyes that shone with such RELIEF. I never saw my mother's make run like that again. I half believe she hopes I do not remember.

But I DO.

And I always will.

In the Story, my character was a terror. Haughty and cruel. Sadistic. A wealthy brat that played God right up until all her sins came due. She drove a great deal of the early plot. I? Did none of those things. I threw myself into being a good daughter and a shining reflection upon the parents I loved.

I took my etiquette lessons seriously, to the delight of my teachers. My school work was promptly finished and followed by clarifying questions, to the joy of my tutors. I was polite to my peers. Overlooked their embarrassing early fumbles and mistakes. Helped them navigate social disasters with dignity. Promised nothing yet remained approachable.

My prospects had been ABYSMAL in the Story. It was part of the Narrative's punishment, I think. Though in hindsight, it is an ugly thing to do. A wonder I ever found such a story interesting enough to read. I imagine, it is the difference between tales and lived events? Nonetheless. My father was FLOODED with letters.

My poor mother absolutely HARRASED. Not an outing could go by, without SOMEONE mentioning their DEAR, SWEET son or nephew. To maintain proper appearances and neutrality, I was forced to attend more party's and events then I EVER wished to see.

I felt like a slab of meat up for auction. A show pony. But I also knew it was temporary. That I need only keep an eye out for a good, respectful man. Listen to the rumor mills. Discreetly bribe a few servants for information that "everyone knew". It was, after all, the way of things.

Should have been, the way of things.

But trouble started. Strange infighting, that started between boys and escalated to entire households. Tense, unspoken, lines dividing garden parties that only the day before were amicable. The Protagonist and her Harem of powerful players? Were BLIND to it.

Two of them were PRINCE for God sake! How had they been RAISED, that they could not feel the sudden shift in the socio-political landscape of their Father's court? He certainly could. And it clearly unnerved him. Yet? The Harem, each son's, each HEIRS, of some powerful position? Seemed both blind and deaf to all but the painfully obvious.

And even THAT? Was apparently unconnected to each other in their empty little minds. Had they nothing but flowers and glitter between their ears? One had to assume.

People were... accidentally forgotten. When invitations were sent. Then deliberately. Then OPENLY. Then? They were SNUBBED. Events deliberately scheduled on the same day, at the same time, as another. So all of polite society would have to CHOOSE. It was escalation.

And if it had been on or two houses? It would have been scandalous. Depending on the house, perhaps even worrying. A handful of houses? The king might have tried to get involved. Forcefully mediate. But it... it was somehow so much WORSE. Was EVERYWHERE.

Like someone had carefully examined the entirety of the Court for fault lines, then SWUNG. Some silent, careful, machination that left everyone at everyone's throat. Divided. Weak.

Easy to manipulate and control.

I could not for the life of me find the source of it all. My social season becoming swiftly more and more dangerous. Politically charged. People pushing and PUSHING for alliances I could not and WOULD NOT give without consulting my family. The capital was no longer safe. So... I quietly left.

Letters of vague excuse. Family matters, cousin so-n-so in their time of need, I'm sure you understand. Too late to stop me and under the cover of darkness.

It... I tell myself it is not my fault. That it would have happened either way. That I could not have known. But... but guilt is a heavy thing. It sits like lead in your gut. Like chains around your soul. They were waiting, I think. More, I suspect. Because...

Because the capital all but EXPLODED.

The carnage was IMMEDIATE. Not even a full day later, at a hunting party, the heir to one house shot the second son to another.

He did not survive.

The powder keg finally sparked and it all went up in flames. Alliances that had stood for centuries, shattered. Brother turned against brother. A wedding turned into a bloodbath, as the bride turned on both her family AND the groom, escaped into the night. Fights broke out everywhere.

The festering tension that had gone for so long unspoken? Could no longer be ignored. Would not, be ignored. The king was helpless to stop it all. The gaurd could only do so much. The fluffy, happy, empty headed little world of comfort the Protagonist knew? Was shredded to pieces.

It became starkly clear that the royal family... couldn't handle it.

That their heirs were... Weak.

Captain of the Gaurd, the Prime Minister, even the King's strongest supporter, the Duke of the East, ALL of them had... weak and ineffectual heirs. One or two could be a failing of parentage, but all together? They had let someone sabotage their sons. Make them puppets to be used and discarded at convenience.

The natural suspicion, of course, fell to the one most benefiting from said son's empty headedness. Much to the Harem's horror. No! Not their beloved shared girlfriend! That the world was burning around them? Of no consequence. But upsetting their darling little mouse? Unforgivable!

It was an act of true, genuine, paternal love; that those fools were banished by the king. They would have been killed horribly had they remained.

My family and I? Retreated to our lands. We had enough to survive. Our House and our People came first. We sent no messages, we received none. I practiced my frankly terrible embroidery. My maids gently CORRECTED my frankly terrible embroidery. The country BURNED.

Powerful people were picked off, one by one.

And wouldn't you know it? A new star was rising from the chaos. A voice of reason. Charismatic. Driven. Handsome and powerful, with the bloodline to match. Conveniently allied already to all those people who had replaced the Old Guard in government! How very serendipitous. That those positions should just... open up, like that. That he just HAPPEN to have such qualified people at the ready.

What ARE the odds?

My House knew our monster know. We watched. Careful. As he smiled and smiled. One hand open in welcome, the other? Holding a knife, hidden just out of sight. The king saw him for what he was. And the monster saw a worthy foe in the king. They were, after all, both very Dangerous men.

It was likely swordsmen duel.

Deadly steel clashing, shining, swift as it dances, from attack to defend to attack again. Experience versus youth. Power against power. The king was an old dragon, stood against a tiger come to see him dead. And though the dance was breathtaking? In the end... the dragon was old. Tired. And not the man he had once been.

The tiger won.

The king died in his sleep. Of... natural causes. No one believed it. No one dared say otherwise. The crown princess ascended the throne. She had played the game well. Taken after her Father. Been neglected in favor of her idiot brothers. In the Story, she was to be married off. A side character never to be heard from again.

It seems she was not content with such a fate.

Now she was Queen.

My family and I applauded. Polite. I hoped it marked the end of the strangeness. So many had died. So much had changed. Surely... surely it was over, wasn't it? But then? In the cold light of the early morning hours? A letter. Pristine and on a fine paper. Sat like a viper upon the table before us. A bomb.

My Father had stared at it, over steepled hands, like if he glared long enough? It would simply catch fire and burn away. The Monster's crest. Pressed lovingly into the wax. What... what did That Man want with us?

I watched him grit him teeth. Run his letter opener through paper like he was imagining jerking it across flesh, slitting the bastards throat for DARING to threaten his family. I held my mother's hand as he read. Watched his grip on the pages go white knuckled.

He didn't even tell a servant to burn it.

He slammed his chair back, in a terrible fury, and marched straight to the nearest fireplace to consign the letter to the flames. Over his dead body. Was his announcement. I... I had a terrible feeling it might be, whatever was on those pages.

The letters kept coming.

My Father burned them all.

Then? Trouble started.

And I did not need to see history twice, to know how it would end. I got up early. Waited near the damn GATES. My Father could not burn the letter before I read it, if I was there first. It... it was a marriage proposal. I... I did not understand. Why? For what POSSIBLE reason would he...?

It did not matter though, ultimately. I would be saying yes.

For my family? Anything.

And so I packed. My Father knew he couldn't stop me. I was entirely too much his daughter. It was why he had burned the letters. I was doing exactly what he would have done. He vowed to kill him. Slowly. Held me a swore. He would make me the loviest widow to ever live. My Mother promised to go look up family recipes for poisons. For rats, of course.

I loved them so, so much.

I LOVE them even now.

It is why I sit, back straight, fragrant tea untouched, in this cold but beautiful receiving room. I wear my best dress. The one that makes me look coldly beautiful. Elegant but untouchable. I feel like a winter spirit in it. Something made of ice and bone. I wear it when I want to feel stronger. I don't know if it's helping.

If I hold myself still. Count my breathing and do not think. I can almost... ALMOST? Slip into a trance, I think. Let my mind unfocus. They are keeping me waiting. It's a power play. So be it. You will find me unaffected. Bored even, by your petty displays. I stare peacefully into nothing. A statue in a silent room.

I hope I fucking unnerve them.

Confident footsteps. How quite has it become, that I can hear them, even through the door? I do not turn my head. Note absent-mindedly that the tea before me has long grown cold. This whole damn place is cold. I dispise it. The door is opened for the master of this house. I pointedly do not greet him.

"Aaah~, So COLD" He sing song's, almost chiding, it'd be nearly playful if not for the hint of something darker threaded through his voice. He has an almost victorious little bounce to his step as he approaches. "But then again, I already knew that, didn't I? Frigid, untouchable, and unfeeling~ Now? Now you're MINE~"

He laughs. There is something half disbelieving, half euphoric in the noise. Like he's finally gotten everything he's ever wanted and doesn't know what to DO with himself. He invades my space. Looms. Eyes a touch too wide as he stares. Drinking in the sight of me sitting before him, like he can't believe it's real.

"Do you know, snowdrop? How long it TOOK? What I had to DO to achieve this? Ha ha!" The grin that spills across his feature is unhinged. All I can do is sit, tense and frozen before a madman, as he speaks. "The WHINING, the COMPLAINING, the 'what about meeeee'~! They never shut UP! Wretched and pathetic to the last, they panted after you like DOGS."

Hands slid from his pockets, to come to rest on either side of me on the arm rests, bracing and caging me in. Trapping me as he leaned down. Entirely too close. He smelled like winter air, sharp but clean. His eyes were a blue grey so hauntingly pale, they seemed to bore straight into the soul.

"But they were so GREEDY. So DESPERATE for power. It was EASY, to play them like fools against each other. Make them DANCE. And worth it. Because I get what I wanted~ The brat get her silly little throne, and you?" His grin was all teeth. One hand coming up to rest on my head. "Now you can NEVER escape me."

The hand slid, slow and fingers splayed, downwards. Possessive as each finger brushed, stroked, the side of my face. My jaw. My neck. His eyes following it down with something that could only be blatant lust. His grip tightened around my neck. Not enough to choke. Just, it seemed, to prove to himself that he COULD.

His thumb rest again my pulse, facinated.

Sliding back up to cup my chin, gently forcing my head up, so I had no choice but to meet his eyes. His eyes were dilated. I glared.

"I am going to RUIN you." He whispered, sounding entirely too reverent. As though it were some act of worship he had planned. "Take you apart at the seams. Pretty, pretty little thing. Mine, all mine~"

"I saw you first, you know. You couldn't even be bothered to look at me. I tried all night. That's when I KNEW. I was going to hunt you down. MAKE you mine. Marry you and destroy anyone and anything that stood in my way. And I DID~♡"

"I'm going to have each and every part of you, Darling. Love you and love you until you can't HELP but love me back. We are going to be BEAUTIFUL together. You don't have a choice~♡"

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Platonic Strawhats x Young Demigod Child of Zeus Reader? Reader is 7 years old?

-They weren’t sure of what to make of you the first time you all met, after you underestimated the control over your powers and you shot from the sky, landing hard on Sunny in a smoldering pile with swirly eyes as you had knocked yourself silly.

-Chopper had panicked, seeing a child there as you were quickly taken to the infirmary and patched up.

-When you woke up you were in awe to find yourself on a ship in the middle of the ocean with the humans, your eyes were big and sparkly, realizing that these guys were pirates!!

-You introduced yourself as Y/N, child of Zeus! Many of them knew who Zeus was and they were stunned to meet you, before some, Usopp and Nami, panicked about you being there, not wanting to incur Zeus’ wrath.

-You were a little sheepish, telling them that you had been practicing with your powers, lightning abilities just like your dad, but since you were still so young, you had a hard time controlling it, and you had basically shot yourself out of Valhalla and were lucky enough to land with them.

-Luffy was in awe of your tale, he thought it was so cool to have a demi-god on his crew, as he was quick to invite you to join, and much to the shock of the others, you agreed, thinking it was a cool adventure!

-Luffy was the best person for you to practice with, as he was rubber, so he didn’t get hurt if you zapped him, and you were able to learn how to have fun, being a normal child, as your dad wanted you to learn how to become a warrior as soon as possible.

-Nami was another good teacher, using her abilities with her Clima Tact, to show you how to control your powers, starting off small before moving on to bigger displays of power.

-Robin adored you, as you loved learning about history and she was willing to teach you- she had never had such an attentive student before, and you were warm and refreshing.

-Sanji made sure you were never hungry and when you told him you wanted to learn how to cook too, he agreed, willing to teach you (in a nicer way compared to Zeff) and while you did make mistakes, you were a quick learner.

-You adored Chopper, as you had never met a talking reindeer before, and you were stunned to learn that he was a doctor, and you would gush on how, “I’ve never met a talking doctor reindeer before!!” and he would just blush, getting all flustered as he tried to pretend he wasn’t happy.

-Zoro was a good teacher, helping you build your strength and endurance, he was rather harsh, running you ragged almost every day, but you liked it- because you felt yourself getting stronger each day.

-Usopp was a great person for stories, even if they weren’t true, but you loved hearing them and Usopp was the one to teach you how to aim, to use your abilities to hit small targets across the ship. This was pretty hard, as you had gotten frustrated a few times, but Usopp was patient with you, willing to take you step by step until you were getting better at it.

-You loved Franky, he was so cool looking, and you loved learning about his machines and inventions, wanting to learn more and more about them and he couldn’t help but beam, like he was proud of you, for wanting to learn everything you could about robotics, as he claimed you were going to be his apprentice, which made you cheer.

-You had initially been afraid of Brook, as you had never seen a talking skeleton before, but you soon found that he was funny and he was very nice to you, as you were a young child, and he would play his violin or his guitar for you, teaching you all about music.

-Jinbei was one that you had a lot of fun with, as he would jump into the ocean with you, swimming around and teaching you how to swim and showing you the life beneath the waves, which you had never seen before.

-When Zeus sought you out, wondering where you were, he wasn’t prepared to see that you had joined a pirate crew, and he was fully ready to take you back, but he paused, seeing you having fun, even while training, you looked like a normal kid.

-He knew you would live a long life, and if these humans were training you, helping you grow stronger, then he didn’t mind leaving you there so you could grow and learn from them.

-You were unaware of your father’s decision, but at the moment you didn’t care, you were enjoying life and having fun!

[two-white-butterflies]

parallel lines | d. targaryen | prologue

Description: An ordinary middle school teacher moves to a desolate town with her fiancee. After suffering episodes of vivid nightmares, she realizes that his uncle looks exactly like the man in her dreams.

Pairings: daemon targaryen/reader, aemond targaryen/reader

Trope: Reincarnation

(A rewrite of 'Waiting for a Bus')

series masterlist |

"Story of a romance torn apart by fate Hundreds of years ago, they fell in love, like we did And I'd die for you in the same way." - Timeless, Taylor Swift.

(New York City, USA. August 23, 2008)

It was a hail mary from the beginning - only few people were reincarnated into a human form and only a small percentage of that was able to remember their past life. It was typically provoked by a traumatic event - and you were unfortunate to experience it so early in your second life. "Where are you going?" a small voice escapes your mouth, there was something dangerous about tonight.

There was a hurricane going on outside - water crashing upon the littered streets of Downtown NYC. "Calm down, I have to check something over there, baby. Can you be a good girl and stay here?" Mother inquired, while patting your head comfortingly.

"Can't I come with you?" your eyebrows merged into each other, she tilted her head. "No, it will be quick." she promised, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I'm scared," you slumped into your seat, seeing lightning bounce off your 18th floor apartment window. "It will be over soon, it's just rain." she mumbled, letting go of your body.

You reached for the headphones that were inside your pocket. There were only two things that comforted you; mother and music. Both things so pleasant that it immediately calmed you down.

"So, you're leaving in the morning. In the early train." you carefully hummed along the song, hiding your face under the enormous pile of blankets on your bed. "Well, I could say everything's alright. And I could pretend and say goodbye." your humming drowned out the noise of the storm.

You breathe a silent sight of relief. Yep! You could take care of yourself. There was no need for mother's help. "Where is she?" you found yourself mumbling out loud. You lift the blanket off your body, feeling your feet touch the cold floor.

"Ma?" your tiny voice bounced off the empty apartment. You were supposed to move out tomorrow - something about not being able to pay taxes after the market crashed. "Ma?" your voice bounced off the apartment again, with no reply. "Can't stop loving you. No, I can't stop loving you." you could hear the music play in your head.

Just as your feet touched the floor of the living room. You see her. Body sprawled on the floor - blood everywhere, and the door wide open. "Ma!" this time your voice is louder than before. Loud enough for your next-door neighbor to hear.

The last thing you could remember was Mrs. Dantes' apartment door opening, before your vision shifts to black once more.

You opened your eyes again - this time you were in a different place. The entire world smelled like grass and ash. "We need to go home," you gritted your teeth - a mere spectator in your own body. The man beside you was of a different beauty - piercing purple eyes and silver locks. He was a thing of the gods. His eyes were round - almost prey-like. You'd almost assume that his smile could enchant any passerby, but his expression was one of anger.

"We are not going anywhere, you know of the reason we are here. I intend to follow through our plans," he responded with gritted teeth. It pained him to speak to you in this manner - but the anger he felt. It could almost burn armies. "I would rather die," you frowned - and only then did his gaze softened.

It was your thirteenth fortnight camped outside of Harrenhall. There was a deep fog that loomed over God's Eye. It was an auspicious day, the shamans tell you that it is perfect for war. The gods will be on the side of the good, but when have the Targaryens been good?

"We will die if my sister's lover ever has the mind to descend upon us." you warned him, in fear of Vhagar. "I will die," he corrected - turning his body in your direction - cupping your chin and moving your face closer to his. "- you will be safe, wife." he pressed a gentle kiss on your lips.

His hands were calloused - eyes filled with so much fury, but he treated you with such tenderness - you couldn't help but love him more. "I will be safer with the thought that you are alive. I beg of you, please do not fight in a war in which your family is destined to lose. Let Aegon take his crown - let Aegon die with it." you begged him.

"The crown is not his. It is Rhaenyra's." he defended, playing with the rivet of his dagger. "It will not benefit us." you whisper and his eyes narrowed. "It does not matter now," he placed you behind him - seeing the figure of his much awaited nephew.

Aemond stands a few hundred feet away from you, beside him was your sister, Alys. "I see that you've finally found the time to honor your dear uncle," Daemon begins with his exposition. He glares at Aemond with his two healthy eyes.

"How could I not? I've heard stories about a knight - how his Dark Sister has defeated armies and armadas. I've heard stories about his beautiful wife too, with vixen eyes that are hooks for the soul. I see his wife - but I do not see him." Aemond antagonized.

"It might have something to do with your missing eye, nephew." your husband responded, and Caraxes prowls behind you. "I see very well, uncle." Aemond corrected and Daemon tilts his head. "And who is the judge of that?" he jested, and there was a moment of silence.

Aemond moves towards Vhagar, boarding his dragon without any other words. You look above - seeing the Prince circle the lake with his noble stead. Daemon places a hand on your cheek. "I will return, and I will honor my promises. This is the last battle, wife. Thank you for your patience," he bridges your lips together.

Sealing his fate with a single kiss.

He walks past you - to the direction of Caraxes, and he boards his dragon too. "Daemon!" you yell after him, but he reluctantly ignores you - following after his nephew to the heavens.

(Dragonview, Canada. January 2, 2023)

"Are you alright?" Aemond places a gentle hand on your shoulder. Your eyelids flutter gently, beads of sweat formed atop your forehead. "Yeah - yeah." you answer much to quickly. "It was just another nightmare." you affirmed, while staring at the digital clock on your bedside table. 3:41 AM.

"Did I wake you?" you scratch the back of your head. "No, I was about to start sleeping." he chuckled nervously. "- I'm really worried about you, angel." he whispers, while laying down beside you. He wraps his strong arms around your body - domineering over your small frame. "The nightmares have been going on since we met." he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

A scoff exits your mouth.

"It's been gone bebè. It only came back because we moved to a new city." you hypothesized, kissing his cheek - smelling the faint scent of aftershave. "It would be better if it was gone ... forever." he retorted, rubbing circles on your thighs. "If it continues, you promise to get it fixed?" he inquired and you laugh.

"You make me sound like a robot." you bit your lower lip. "Elementary teacher goes crazy and needs to get spare parts." he joked. "You make me crazy, you know that?" you giggle. The light of the lampshade illuminated his features perfectly. "I'm glad that you have a new job, there's someone else to blame about your madness." he kissed your jawline.

The digital alarm clock rings. 4:00am.

"Get your hands off me, Mr. Targaryen. I have to get ready for school." you whispered, while lifting his fingers off your waist. "No time for a little quickie?" he winked and you rolled your eyes. "There's time for that when I get home." you answered while lifting the blanket off your body. Strategically walking towards the bathroom before he gets another word in.

The school was a few minutes away from your apartment. The town was small - one of the few islands in the southern part of Canada. "According to the book that you gave me about this place, Dragonview used to be a volcano. Which is weird since we aren't in the Pacific Ring of Fire side of Canada." you opened the conversation.

"You are cruel for having me drive you to school - and listen to you speak about volcanology." he humored, placing his free hand on your thighs. "But is the book really accurate? I mean - I can see the mountain from our apartment window. I'd like to check it out if it used to be a volcano." you turned to look at him.

He nodded his head.

"My family's been living in this island for thousands of years. I think they used to call it Dragonmont - there's no magma left. No traces of the fact that it used to be a Volcano. Lots of people went to study it when I was a child. Not a volcano, they say." he relayed the information. "You know, my father used to tell me that dragons lived in this island." he chuckled in an amused tone.

You flinch. The word 'dragon' made your head spin.

"We should hike it in the weekends. If you're free?" your eyebrows merged into each other and he nods. "I'm always free for you, love." he confirmed, halting in front of the school building. To your surprise, the school was a generous size. Small enough that it couldn't rival the schools in the state, but bigger than the typical schools found in Canadian Provinces.

You lean closer to his body, giving him a soft peck on the cheek. "I'll pick you up at six, you're welcome to be late." he placed a hand on your shoulder.

"I love you," you smiled while opening the door. "I love you too." he answered - and you slam the door shut.

Watching as his Honda Civic rolls away from view.

St. Maria Goretti, the patron saint of purity, young women and sexual assault. She was also the namesake of the section that you were going to teach. 'First year of teaching and I already have an advisory class, god. I'm jealous of myself.' you shook your head while placing your bag on the desk. Teaching grade-school was easy. Especially in a country like Canada - where they had a reputation of being kind.

A woman clears her throat, knocking on the door three times. "Good morning, you must be the new teacher. I'm Rhaenyra, the Senior High School Subject Coordinator for English. My advisory is just across the hall, Grade 4 - Saint Agnes of Rome." she introduced herself, holding out her hand for you to shake.

Silver locks and a familiar pair of purple eyes. "(Your Name), I teach Mathematics - as you can see, I'm the advisor of Grade 6 - Saint Maria Goretti." you smiled at her, shaking her hand. "Oh, you're very lucky to have this section. There's a saying that goes around here, all the advisors of Saint Maria Goretti turn out to be very successful." she winked, a smile is etched upon your features.

She takes another step forward.

"What happened to the last teacher for everyone to think that?" your eyes narrowed and she leaned on the desk. "She ended up marrying a hot-shot lawyer, I heard that she lives in Monaco now. There's a lot of other teachers before you - this position hasn't been held for more than a year. I mean I think there was a teacher that lasted longer but it's been decades. 10-15 years ago? But she moved to New York." Rhaenyra tried to remember the past.

You place a binder on the table.

"It's nice that you remember the school's history. There aren't a lot of teachers who bother to learn all of that." you compliment, sensing that she was staring deep into your face. "I was born and raised here. She was my advisor - she spent her last year in school with us. I hope that you last longer than the others though," she breathed and you could only hum in agreement.

"I'll do my best - plus, my boyfriend was also born and raised here. He wants to make amends with his family. If all goes well, I see myself settling here." you explained, smiling at the thought of Aemond. Her watch beeps, 7:25am.

"Well, I will see you in the cafeteria during lunch. I'm afraid that I'll have to say goodbye for now," she waved - retreating back into the hallway. "See ya," you bid goodbye - the room fills with more students.

RHAENYRA STRONG She's here.

DAEMON TARGARYEN Who?

Rhaenyra's phone rings - the caller ID flashes for a moment. "What's up? Is everything alright?" he inquires. She could hear the classical music play in the background. "(Your Name) is here, and she doesn't remember anything." she breathed out in a panicked tone.

INSTAGRAM

yourname_: with the advanced class ✨

liked by aemond.targaryen and 238 others

>comments

tatianaVANILLA: The way that idk what those letters are 🤣

view 5 more comments

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DaemonTargaryen.phd: My lovely and beautiful Caraxes... 👍🏻

liked by 1,293 others

>comments

VexanaNailss: Prof Daemon has the dawg in him

jacejacejacevelaryon: 2 dogs 1 frame 😨 - LucerysGaming: You literally live in his house 💀 - - jacejacejacevelaryon: You also eat his ice cream. Your point is?

LaenorVelaryonLaw08: Sea wants a playdate

DaemonTargaryen.phd: @LaenorVelaryonLaw08 fine since you beg 🤣

next chapter>>

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

hi! would you do more of pretty little secret? like maybe when we first interact with regina and how that goes down and janis being protective and whatnot? that story was so good

Pretty Little Secret || Part 2

|| Janis Imi'ike x fem!reader

|| Warnings: Regina being Regina, swearing, implied homophobia, Regina bullying Janis & reader

|| Summary: reader runs into Regina George, Regina makes fun of Janis & reader. Janis tries picking a fight with Regina but reader & Damien pull her away before things can escalate.

Requests open!

Started: May 2nd

Finished: May 11th

Go read part 1!

~~~

At least... you had thought you'd do fine here.

Your first day went well. Your second day? Not so much. You had unfortunately encountered Regina George. She was so much worse than Janis' warnings, how that was even possible you weren't sure. You had thought Janis was just over exaggerating when she had compared her to a worse Heather Chandler.

God, you wished Regina George came with a flashing warning something or some shit so you wouldn't accidentally run into her like you had. Maybe a bell. Someone put a bell on this bitch.

You literally ran into the one person Janis told you to stay away from. Girl, you had one job now come on.

Let's take it back a few steps.

You were in your third period class, watching the clock as the seconds ticked by. You had no idea what the teacher was even going on about anymore but you didn't care; you were just waiting for the moment where you could be back in Janis' arms.

The moment the bell rang, you gathered your things and hurried out the door and towards the cafeteria. You had been speed walking, music playing in your ears. You hadn't noticed the blonde and her plastic crew walking ahead of you.

Your pace picked up, wanting to be with Janis already. Not even a few seconds later did you collide into Regina George, both of you falling to the ground with you landing on top of her.

She screamed and pushed you off, giving you an intense glare that sent shivers down your spine.

You scrambled to your feet and tried offering your hand to help her up, but she slapped it away with enough force to sting.

You pulled your hand back and gave it a gentle rub to soothe the sting.

"I was only trying to help-" She cuts you off, raising her hand.

"Shut. Up. Don't you think you've already caused enough damage? God, you're so pathetic." She said through gritted teeth as she stood and brushed herself off. Her two... friends (you guessed, though you weren't sure that was the right word to describe them from what Janis has told you) came and checked on her but she pushed past them and marched up to you.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" Regina snapped, you took a step back and gulped," Well?"

"Just um... a nobody?" You thought maybe that answer would satisfy her, Regina rolled her eyes at you and was about to say more when you were both interrupted.

"She's over there!" You heard Damien shout from somewhere behind you, but you didn't turn around.

"Y/N!" Janis' voice quickly followed, soon enough she was standing next to you. Her hand gripping yours as she pulled you back from Regina and closer to her. "Leave her alone, George."

Regina's eyes narrowed at you and Janis, wondering why the hell she was being so protective over you. Then it clicked when she saw the blush on your cheeks, she smirked and folded her arms across her chest.

"What? Gonna set me on fire for talking to your girlfriend?" Regina stared Janis down, but Janis didn't back away. If anything she stepped closer.

"Maybe I should. Finally shut you up."

This was going to get ugly and fast. You knew you had to act now, you looked at Damien for help and luckily he seemed to understand.

The two of you each grabbed one of Janis's arms and pulled her back.

Janis was pissed off. She didn't want to be pulled away, her eyes glared daggers at Regina as she kicked her feet in protest. Trying to get out of yours and Damien's grasp. You were glad you had asked him for help, because God Janis was putting up a fight. "Let me go!"

"Quick, someone get a fire extinguisher." Regina said with a laugh as she watched the scene unfold before her.

"Girl, calm down." Damien focused on Janis, keeping his hold on her arm as he glanced at you and you nodded. The two of you pulled Janis away from Regina and out of the hall. You weren't about to risk being there for longer than you needed to. Luckily, Regina let you take Janis away without saying much else. At least... not to your face.

You yourself were pissed off at Regina for everything she had said to your girlfriend. But you held back, knowing that getting expelled on your second day wouldn't look all that great on you.

Once the three of you were outside, you and Damien carefully let go of Janis. Keeping your guards up in case she took off or something and you had to grab her again. Thankfully, that didn't happen but you could see she was still pissed as fuck.

"Why did you pull me away?! She deserved a good beat down!" Janis shouted.

"Truth. But we both know she would have twisted the story around and made you the villain." Damien replied, hands on his hips as he kept an eye on Janis. You nodded in agreement.

"And I wasn't about to let my girlfriend get expelled when I just got here. I can't survive this shit without you." You added on, Janis rolled her eyes.

"Okay, okay! Fine." You could tell she wasn't overly happy so you worked your brain for an idea.

You smiled, Janis raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"What's that look for?" She asked.

Damien glanced at you.

"We ditch the rest of the day and go hangout at one of those rage rooms where you can break a bunch of shit." You explained your idea, Janis' eyes lit up with excitement.

You smiled a little more, glad that that seemed to cheer her up.

"Tits! Let's go!" Janis grabbed your hand and pulled you along, you laughed as you followed her. Damien walking beside the two of you.

You always found it hilarious how she used tits to replace 'that's great'.

The three of you would then spend the rest of the day at the rage room, Janis and Damien were the ones mainly breaking shit. You had broken a bit, but you wanted to make sure Janis was the main focus of this. She clearly needed this more than you.

[shroomiewrites]

Private Lessons || Professor!Price x F!Reader

Professor!Price x F!Reader || 7.4k words || NSFW || 18+ || Minors DNI

Warnings: AFAB reader, explicit sexual themes, alcohol consumption, degradation, creampie, spanking, dry humping, praise, power play if you squint, blasphemous behavior.

⁠✧.*⁠Next chapter || Assignment Tutoring*⁠.⁠✧

Synopsis: You couldn't be happier when your failure of a professor was being temporarily replaced with a substitute teacher, however, your happiness is quickly replaced with panic as you meet your new professor.

The clock ticked slowly. Agonizingly slowly. It usually did when you were seated in the uncomfortable joint seat from the auditorium, behind your laptop as the bright white blank page stared back mockingly at you. Not an unusual situation by any means, that, however, didn't make it any better as you repressed a yawn for the third time in the past two minutes.

Your professor paced around in front of the full board, hands gesturing wildly, rambling about some nonsensical story that had nothing to do with the subject he's supposed to be teaching and you're supposed to be learning. Clearly you were both failing at your tasks, but, ironically enough, only you'd fail at the end of the semester when the lack of attention and study notes came back to bite you in the ass.

The bell finally rang and you felt your body physically slack in relief. Your hands mindlessly putting your laptop away in your bag in a robotic manner from pure habit. Your mind was only thinking about what you were going to eat that evening and how long of a nap could you fit into your afternoon before you had to spend the rest of the day actually studying whatever was supposed to be taught by your incompetent teacher.

"Thank you everyone for coming, and don't forget that I'll be away for an international congress for the next month, so a substitute teacher will be taking my place. As always if you need me my email is–"

Is God real? Or did you just think so hard about having someone that actually knows how to do their job that it you manifested it into existence? Whatever it is, whatever divine entity that allowed for those words to come out of your professor's mouth were sure to be working in your favor and you promised you'd owe them one would you ever figure them out.

Your coffee tasted that much better that afternoon, a taste of accomplishment and contempt that doubly warmed your throat as the hot liquid ran it down. 

"Celebrate the small victories," you thought.

If God was real, he was a dick. The absolute fucking worst. Him or whatever other deity played a cheap trick on you when all you wanted was to get a damn good grade in possibly the most boring class in your curriculum. 

Given, it wasn't that boring anymore, thanks to the mountain of a man who had his back turned to you as he unceremoniously wrote on the board, clapping his hands softly to rid it of the excess chalk powder before he turned to the class once again.

Professor Price, the words read.

You would've relished a bit more in the absence of your previous failure of a teacher, but you could nearly physically hear the universe laughing at you as you tried to pry your eyes away from the man's giant arms that escaped his rolled up dress shirt, without any success whatsoever. 

You were fucked. If you were failing before thanks to your teacher's lack of any teaching skills, now you are failing because the way this man's thighs were furiously trying to break free from the confinement of his pants was making you want to get up and scream about how incarcerating innocent subjects was a miscarriage of justice. Maybe you could throw in some fancy precedent that'd show him you were actually a good student of the law and not just some whore lusting after your own fantasies of being bent over his table and feeling his muscular thighs hit your legs from behind as–

"Morning, class." His thick British accent nearly made you jump your seat, eyes focused on his figure but your mind far away.

His voice. His fucking voice. Hoarse and throaty. Like he just stretched relaxedly, sprawled in bed after a long night and was greeting you with a sly smile on his face. Or maybe you were just a little too deep in your headspace. Either way. It scratched your brain just right, sending tingles down your spine, you watched as he put his hands inside his front pockets, wide stance giving you a perfect look at his broad chest. It probably felt nice to lay on, to place your palms on to steady yourself as you– God. 

"I'm Professor Price and I'll be covering this class for the next few weeks as Professor Wilson is away," The way he scanned the room was focused but unpretentious, not in judgment, more like curiosity. 

When he glanced over you, stopping to take you in for a split second that you wouldn't have noticed if you weren't making a living out of studying his every feature, you felt butterflies in your stomach. A familiar warmth traveling down to in between your legs as you scolded yourself for acting like a damn college girl, soon reminding yourself that you were, in fact, a college girl. Not that it was terribly on brand for you to lust after your professors, however it was painfully often that you found yourself falling for men that would be charmingly referred to as DILFs. And Professor Price? Was a fucking huge one. 

"I hope we can make great use of this short amount of time we'll be together, and I'm here for any assistance you may need. I know this subject can be quite a challenge," he chuckles, deep and rusty, and you make a mental note to check if you need a panty change when the class ends. 

The rest of the class goes by so fast you actually find yourself disappointed when the bell rings. Professor Price was as good of a teacher as he was eye candy. Never once had you seen a class so thoroughly focused on a lecture about corporate law, and you suspected a few other students shared your same fertile imagination when it came to your new educator. For the first time in weeks you were actually able to look proudly back at your laptop screen, paragraphs of text and citations adorning the screen. Sure, you had to fight your instinct of drooling over the way Professor Price's back muscles shifted as he wrote on the board, unaware of all the vile, lascivious thoughts that plagued your mind every time he cleared his throat to start a new sentence.

You scoffed putting your stuff away while looking at two girls in class go up to Price's desk, twirling their hair as they asked him a question about the lecture. But you weren't dumb. You saw it in their little mischievous eyes that corporate law was the last thing in their raunchy heads as one of them touched his arm, oh, so accidentally. Please. At least you hid it. 

Right?

If you were ever an atheist, you couldn't remember. You were pretty sure God was real and present, but above all else, that he had a personal vendetta against you. Maybe that was narcissistic to think, but you sure got that impression as you recognized a certain pair of blue eyes and combed beard coming through the bar's double door. Because, of course, your male's-underwear-catalog-model of a professor just walked into the place you've been drinking and trying to forget about him for the past hour. And, of course, he's wearing a tight white shirt that outlined his spec muscles so well it might be illegal, not to mention the glasses?! The fucking glasses. Thank goodness he didn't wear them in class or you might've just cum right there and then. He looked so entirely different with them but recognisable still, it was infuriating. Who does he think he is? Clark Kent?

You had plenty of plans for the night. Convincing yourself you deserved a little treat after spending the evening looking through and editing your class notes. His class notes. It was a simple course of action you had in mind, truly. Go down to your usual bar, drink yourself away, maybe kiss a guy or two, go back home and regret it all as you woke up on a Saturday with a massive headache and books to read. But now, your body was getting side tracked. Insisting on traveling the entirety of his body, not feeling a drop of shame as you stopped at his crotch, taking notice of the big bulge there. 

Fuck. He was big. You could sense it, you could imagine it and you desperately wish you could feel it.

Shaking your head, you tried to erase the mental image of being on your knees in front of him and focus on the average looking blond guy who had been eating you with his eyes ever since you stepped foot into the place. You were betting with yourself on how long it'd take him to actually make a move on you. Needless to say, he had the rush of a monk. But at least it'd keep you busy as you tried with every fiber of your being to forget your professor.

"Hey," A familiar croaky voice came from behind you,"You were in my class earlier right?"

Now this just has to be some sort of sick joke. How long until cameras popped out from behind the bar and footage of you staring at his dick was all over the internet? Could you just double it and give it to the next person?

"Uh– professor!" You whipped your head, putting on the best sober smile you could, "Yeah, yeah. I was." Maybe that's all he wanted to know, just being a nice, courteous man before he went on his merry way.

"Ha! Knew I recognized ya." He sat down on the stool next to you. 

Well now this is just tragic, frankly. Both the way he was oblivious to how much of a mess you were by as much as his presence and how the blond guy was apparently very taken aback by the wardrobe sized man talking to you and started flirting with another girl shortly. Pig. 

"How was it? I was a bit unsure on how to approach it, I remember I found the topic so bloody boring in my time, thought I could spice it up a bit." And spice it up he did. Maybe a little too much. 

"It was great!" you nodded, hoping he wouldn't ask you to quote your favorite part because right now, the alcohol in your system and his musky cologne wiped your brain out completely, leaving only a deep burning desire to be absolutely fucked senseless, "Professor Wilson is a great teacher," A lie, "but I could comprehend it a lot better with the way you explained it." Not necessarily a lie. 

"That's great to hear, then." His smile was genuine and bright, of someone who had no idea that if he ordered you to get down on your knees right there and then you would with zero hesitation.

An innocent smile adorned your lips as you took another sip of your third drink of the night, barely feeling the burn that went down your throat anymore. You were embarrassed, honestly. Being this hot and bothered by a poor teacher who was only putting effort into doing his job right left you feeling like the biggest slut to set foot in town. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, not missing the way Price's eyes glanced subtly to your legs as your mini dress rode up a few inches. 

Just an involuntary reaction, you were sure, or your devious mind was playing tricks in you.

"Recommend me anything?" Your attention turned back to him as he pointed at your drink.

You thought for a second. He didn't look like he enjoyed the fruity sweet drinks you were downing like a mad man, no. He looked like he was more of a 'something strong and a little bitter on the tongue' man. 

"You look like you might be into scotch." You note and he raised an eyebrow, a low hum echoing from his lips.

"Read me like a book, I see." His smirk was as amused as it was surprised.

"Try the godfather." The bossy underline of your tone was definitely not on purpose… Grinning to yourself as he bit his lip before nodding and turning to the barista that arrived to take his order.

"Well, ya heard the lady. One godfather for this old man." The barista nodded and you contemplated whether to jump onto the opportunity or not.

Fuck it.

"You don't look old at all," you giggled. Disgusting truly, as low as the girls in his class, but could you honestly be blamed? 

The low chuckle that came out of him made it all worth it. Putting one arm on the counter as he shook his head. You noticed how his biceps flexed as he moved.

"You know what they say, 'age isn't a number, it's an attitude'."

Cheesy. Would absolutely turn you off if he wasn't the one saying it. In his voice it became a rather sexy mantra. You wanted to show him an attitude alright.

"Means more experience no?" You brought your straw to your lips, never breaking eye contact. The innuendos of the question were to be judged by God and God alone. You're lucky being horny isn't a crime.

"Indeed it does… in a lot of areas." His gaze was fixed on yours and you nearly choked on your drink.

He didn't– he wasn't… flirting with you? Was he? 

"Law?" You asked cheekily, trying hard not to think about the wet patch in your panties.

His laugh was easy and genuine. A treat to your ears, not being able to hold a smile yourself.

"Sure," he concluded, drink being posed in front of him by the bartender.

He thanked the man, bringing the cup up in between you two.

"For learning new things, aye?" You smiled, bumping your cup softly against his, a small clink sound coming from between the glasses before you two brought it to your lips.

And, man, did you learn new things. 

You learned his name was John, which you immediately tested in your head about how you'd sound moaning it (pretty good), he worked at a firm in the UK for nearly 10 years before deciding to take up on teaching full time. He'd been a professor for 6 years now, was unmarried with no kids, "My hectic life couldn't hold up a proper relationship," he said. 

You also learned he was an avid football fan and loved hiking. Both which explained his top notch physique. Not that you were staring, of course… 

"But tell me more about you," he finished his second drink, "You have a boyfriend?" 

The question caught you by surprise, erupting something very unholy inside of you. Was this a casual get-to-know-your-student question? Did such a thing even exist? As far as your experience went, professors weren't really going around drinking with their students.

"Uh– no, no. You know, with the whole last year of college thing and trying to find good opportunities it's just… hard to find the time," you answered truthfully.

Not that you were a lonely, sad woman by any means, having your fair share of lovers here and there. Ultimately they all ended the same way, you slowly fell out of touch as your schedules got more and more conflicting. Not that it bothered you that much, you were more than fine with the freedom of being single and the pleasure of an occasional fling.

"I get that," You thought he actually did, "but I'm more than sure a pretty lady like you won't have trouble finding a nice young guy," he stated, eyes looking for your expression.

His choice of words stuck with you. Nice young guy. You stopped momentarily, it could either mean two things — he was giving you a hint that he didn't want anything with you, or… he was trying to see if you were open to the idea. You pondered for a moment, your next words needed to be expertly chosen if you wanted to cover both terrains until you figured out which was right. 

You took one last sip of your drink, head slightly dizzy as you thought hard, "I don't know if those young nice guys are really for me, Professor." 

The way he sucked in a breath at hearing his title was nearly too much for you, sending you spiraling into your carnal thoughts about moaning it as he spanked you on his lap. 

"Have they not been taking care of you right?" There was a dark undertone to his words, a palpable tension as you both tiptoed around the blurred lines, the alcohol serving as a catalyst to send your mind into a frenzy with each look he gave you.

You bit your lip, noticing how his eyes darted down to them, Adams' apple bobbing in a contained gulp.

"Not in the way I want them to." He visibly tensed at your words, veins getting more visible as he grasped the empty glass tighter, knuckles turning slightly white. For a second you were scared he'd bust the cup, fully aware that even if he did, it'd be the hottest thing in the world.

Another second of silence went by and you started to panic. Had you gone too far? Did you step on a landmine in the little minesweeper game you were playing? You were about to backtrack, come up with a bullshit lie when he interrupted you.

"I think it's getting late. You should head home as well. I'll pay for your taxi." Your heart dropped to your stomach. It felt like a slap to your face.

You stood there, mouth agape as you tried to comprehend what went so wrong in so little time. Above all else, how would you still attend his class after this? Maybe you could just retake it next semester? Wait until Professor Wilson came back and tell him you had come up with a mysterious case of the flu and couldn't go to class for the past month. 

Your internal rambling was interrupted by John taking his wallet out and laying two bills on the counter, paying for both your drinks. You were about to tell him to stop and that you could pay for your own drinks, feeling embarrassed enough. Before you could, he dragged his arm off the counter, hitting your purse that rested above it to the ground. You watched as he immediately bent down to grab it, grunting an apology.

His fingers curled around the purse beside your leg and he agonizingly slowly brushed his other hand on your leg all the way up to your thigh, where he rested it for a second in a subtle and discreet move. Anyone looking from afar would just think he was giving you back your clutch. He placed the small bag in your lap, being as close to your face as he ever was and you could clearly see the lustful gleam behind his glasses. 

"Black Ford, parked on the end of the street. I'll take 5 minutes checking something on my work bag…" He whispered, sending a heat down your body, "If you decide for whatever reason to go there help me…" The brittled tone of his voice along with the mixed scent of his cologne and the scotch was sending you to paradise, "I'll take good care of you, darling." 

You definitely needed a panty change. Hell you might've felt your slick run down your legs slightly, feeling cold where his touch was after he took his hands off, nodding a courteous goodbye to the barista before going out the doors and making a right.

Heart stammering against your chest, you took a second to try and think straight, failing miserably. Whatever was left of your logical thinking begged for you to reconsider the idea of getting into your professor's car. But it was to no avail as you slowly got up from your seat, grabbing your purse and walking out, turning right.

The short walk to the end of the street where you thought you saw a black Ford was filled with your anxious thoughts. God, were you really about to sleep with your teacher? Well, he'd only be there for another few weeks anyway, it's not like you were officially his student anyway. Or that's what you'd tell yourself at night to be able to sleep after letting out all of your fantasies with the hot mountain of muscles that currently stared at your small figure approaching the car. You glanced around once before opening the passenger door and getting inside, a small sigh leaving your lips as you settled into the comfortable seats.

Price's eyes were glued onto your figure, unabashedly skimming his eyes over your exposed legs and your chest and neck.

"Drive us somewhere a bit more… private." You don't know where you found strength or courage to order him around, but he clearly didn't mind, smiling and spitting out a 'yes, ma'am', starting to drive out of the busy street. 

You took the opportunity of having him focused on the traffic to take him in completely, how his arms flexed as he grasped the steering wheel, how his thighs barely had any free space to move on the small driver's seat and the giant boner he sported. It made your mouth water and you bit your lip, repressing a premature moan from spilling out your lips.

"Like what you see?" He was clearly amused, a side smirk playing on his face as his eyes were still glued to the road in front of him.

"Maybe…" You decided to tease a little, two could play that game.

He chuckled, a small breath coming out of his nose as he wet his lips before talking, "I think you do, since you've been fucking me with those eyes ever since class this morning."

You considered opening the door and simply throwing yourself out of the moving car. How much more pathetic does the universe need you to look? 

"Oh. I– well–" He was full on laughing now, a husky, delicious laugh that had you rubbing your thighs together for any friction you could get.

"Can't say I didn't find myself getting distracted by you a couple times, love…" he confessed, taking a quick side glance at you and you felt utterly naked under his gaze, completely exposed.

"You fuck your students often?" Was it necessary? No. Did it please you to see the way he looked at you pointedly, almost angry? Absolutely.

"Who said I'm gonna fuck you?" 

The bastard. How dare him. You turned your head in his direction, eyebrows raised in disbelief.

"What are we doing? Private lessons?" He chuckled once more, one hand moving from the steering wheel to your leg, giving it a squeeze. Your breath hitched, biting your lip.

"I'll definitely teach you a lesson." His smile was playful but his tone… he was serious. Deadly.

The words went straight to your core, if it was physically possible for you to get wetter you would've. You cursed yourself for not being able to keep up a cool act near him, your body constantly betraying what your mind wanted you to do.

"And you're the first one. I'm not a pervert." You chuckled at his words, but felt a weird sense of pride. Like he was your dirty little secret.

"We'll see about that." He looked at you curiously, hands squeezing your thigh one more time, a bit harder this time, "You're not killing me right? Cause technically, you're taking me to a secondary location and the odds of me surviving that are slim to none." 

Price threw his head back, a genuine string of laughter coming out his mouth. Surprisingly enough that one warmed your heart more than your pussy and you were utterly disgusted with yourself. Fantasies of riding him until you passed down were fine, but you drew the line at imagining how his chest would bob up and down when he laughed as you laid over it on a chilly Sunday evening. 

"I wonder if you'll still be that cheeky with my cock in your mouth, love," he said nonchalantly and you stood dazed as he winked at you.

Where had this man been all this time? 

"I think this is good." The car stopped and you looked around.

You recognized the neighborhood, not too far off where you lived. It was quiet and peaceful, a lot different than most places in your city during a Friday night. There was a small hill close by that stood in front of a river that crossed the city, the soft sound of rippling water filling your ears. 

"I see you chose somewhere near the river so it'll be easier to dispose of my body," you joked, John undid his seatbelt and turned slightly to you, or as much as he could with his giant legs.

"Or I could take you up there and hold you while we watch the stars," he said softly, but you still picked up on the gentle sarcasm of his tone.

"Now that's a psychopathic thought." You turned to him, licking your bottom lip as you mapped his features, the slope of his nose, the way his mustache grazed his upper lip, how his blue eyes looked down at you ferociously behind the thin frame of his glasses, like he was about to jump at you anytime. You found it thrilling.

"If you want to stop this…" he began, voice barely audible, "Tell me now. Because after we start, I know I won't be able to hold myself anymore." 

You inhaled dizzily, unsure of how could every single thing he did turn you on so damn much. Your hands moved to rest on his chest, you enjoyed the feeling of his muscles underneath your hand, traveling up until they rested on the collar of his shirt. His breathing was ragged and you watched him close his eyes for a moment.

"Eager much?" you whispered back, hoping your bratty behavior would stir up something in him. He scoffed, his own hand trailing up your inner thigh, taking your dress with him.

"They'd need a fuckin' crane to tear me off ya." It sounded a bit comical, but with the way he looked at you, like you were prey, and his fingers groped the flesh of your thigh, you actually believed him.

"Wouldn't have it any other way." You pulled him harshly to you, crashing your lips. 

His kiss was exactly like you imagined, like you hoped. The taste of scotch filled your mouth as your tongues lapped against each other in a messy kiss. His guttural moans sent you off orbit, worrying that if his dick wasn't inside you in the next 20 minutes you might just drop dead. 

Your hand slid up from his collarbones until they rested at his nape, you pulled his short hair harshly, parting his mouth away from yours by mere inches, relishing in the way his half lidded eyes looked down at you, watching attentively as you took his bottom lip between your teeth, softly biting into the skin. John let out something close to a whimper and you were sure that that was the single hottest sound in the entire world and you'd kill to hear it again. 

"Fuck, c'mere." In a swift movement, he pushed his seat back a bit, grabbing you like you weighed nothing and placing you straddling him, his hands immediately going from your waist to your hips, before giving your ass a firm slap.

A sound moan went out your lips, closing your eyes and nearly falling forward on his chest. You could feel the outline of his dick under you, providing you with not nearly enough friction, pulsing with the whimper you made as he squeezed your ass harshly. 

"Sound so fuckin' good, baby." His head was now in the crook of your neck, kissing, licking and biting his way to your breasts. 

You wanted to answer with a little quip, keep up your bratty attitude. But the sheer stimulus from his hands and mouth on your body, being slowly rocked on his hard on, was just too much already and you could only moan and whimper broken cries of his name.

"Already daft for me, sweetheart?" He let out a throaty small laugh, one hand traveling from your ass, up your waist, gently squeezing your boob before setting down on your cheek, "Thought you'd last longer with your little attitude, hm?" He whispered darkly into your ear, biting your lobe softly and rocking your hips against him again. 

"J-John…" you whimpered, the fabric of his jeans against your wet panties, sure to leave a stain, torturing your pussy.

His fingers grazed your cheek and your jaw, before his thumb brushed over your bottom lip, dragging it down slightly.  

"Are you gonna be a good girl for me?" he asked, his hand coming down on your ass in another loud slap, you steadied yourself with both hands on his chest, gripping his shirt tightly as his thumb invaded your mouth. You instinctively sucked on it, nodding your head to his question, a low hum echoed from his throat as he shook his head, "Use your words like a big girl, hm?" He grazed your tongue one last time before taking his finger out, your spit dripping from his finger to your chin, he gently smeared it around, eyes fascinated as he watched your drunk eyes and parted lips, body squirming on his lap.

"Y-yes." You gathered the strength you had to mutter, little huffs coming out of your mouth as you tried to grind yourself harder against him.

"Yes what?" He raised your chin to look at him, eyes fiery and dark.

You trembled over from another slap he gave your ass, rocking you forward in his covered dick, the friction sending jolts up your body and you threw your head back, hissing. John grabbed a handful of the hair on the back of your head, turning your face back to him in a surprisingly gentle movement.

"Y-yes, sir." You could feel his dick twitching under you at the honorific, the side of his mouth going up slightly as he pressed a chaste kiss to your lips.

"That's my girl." 

By God, you nearly came at that. You barely had time to bathe in the way his raspy voice echoed in your ear with the praise, feeling the straps of your dress be pushed down your arms, the fabric at your chest now bunched over your hips. John sucked in a breath, admiring your naked body lustfully, biting down on his bottom lip.

"Bloody hell, love, look at you…" He used one hand to mold the flesh of your right boob, kneading it with furrowed brows, completely focused on the way you panted in pleasure. He rolled your nipple on his fingers and you jumped, making him chuckle.

"A little jumpy, are we?" You groaned in complaint but he just laughed at you, mouth flying down to capture your other breast. He sucked and twirled his tongue around your hardened nipple, humming in satisfaction, while humping up, grinding into your pussy.

"S-sir, please–" you begged and he let go of you with a pop, you looked down seeing his shiny lips from sucking on your boob, trying your best to take in so you could relive the moment when you were alone.

"What do you want, baby girl?" He was teasing you, taking the most pleasure in breaking you apart. 

"You in– fuck– inside me," you spoke in between breaths, his grinding getting harder and harder as your panties got so soaked you could only feel the friction of his jeans against you.

"Well looks who's eager now," if you had any strength you would've slapped his chest, but your arms were already shaking, your inebriated state along with your desperate need for him down there making your head spin.

Maybe it was mercy, maybe he wanted it just as much as you but was that much better at hiding it, whatever it was you thanked the heavens when he pushed you back slightly to open the zipper of his jeans, a wet stain in the spot you were seated before. Price looked rather amused at it, almost proud that if he left you there for another 5 minutes you would've probably come on riding his clothed dick alone. 

You salivated at the sight of his boxers, a huge bulge outlined by the thin, stretchy fabric of his underwear. Your hands immediately flew down to it to break his cock free, feeling the absolute girth and length of him. Your belly ached with the sheer prospect of having his massive dick in you, certain that you would be sore for a few days at least.

"Shite–" he threw his head back in a hoarse moan, biting hard on his lip as you smeared the pre cum on his tip, imagining all the positions you wanted to do with him.

He looked back at you, eyes narrowed in pleasure as he witnessed you spit on his cock and move your hands up and down faster, the wet, unholy sounds paired with your cock drunk appearance driving him to the edge. He gathered the strength to grab both your wrists and pull you to him, your lips connecting once again in an even messier kiss.

His beard tickled your skin, but it wasn't as prickly as you thought it'd be. His hands moved to the small of your back, while the other nested into your hair again. Your tongues met again, groans erupting from him while you whined to feel more of him. You moved your hips forward until you were grinding your clothed clit against his hard member. The pleasure making you moan loudly into the kiss as he pulled your hair.

"You want my cock inside you, baby? Want me to pound into you like a whore?" He bit hickeys on the column of your neck, licking the sore spots after, drowning in your soft moans and begs of his name that just rolled of your tongue in a messy string of pleas.

"P–please, sir. Fuck me like a slut, pl–please," You whined and he gave you one final bite, right between your shoulder and neck, before ripping your panties completely from you. 

If you hadn't been so damn wet already, that alone would've been enough to get you dripping. The way he just effortlessly tore the lacy fabric from your body with a growl. His gaze was sinful as he pulled your hair back, chin pointing to his face.

"Open up," he ordered and you immediately obeyed, "Good girl," he uttered  satisfied as he stuffed your mouth with your panties, a guttural groan of pleasure escaping from him as he enjoyed the beautiful sight of you as a panting, drooling and moaning mess, begging for him to fuck you. He could cum just by looking at you like that, completely disheveled thanks to him.

He used one of his hands to raise your hips, the other one guiding his cock to your entrance, sucking in a breath as you sank down on his shaft.

"Oh– fuckin' hell, so bloody tight," he rasped and you could only moan loudly, the sounds muffled by the crumpled fabric in your mouth. 

He barely gave you time to adjust, grabbing your hips and guiding you up and down, your hands bracing yourself on his chest, hair falling all over your face. The sploshing sounds your wet cunt made whenever his cock entered you were loud and filthy, permanently ingrained in Price's memory, along with the way you shook and whined over him. 

You could hear him panting and hissing, strong legs giving you leverage as you rode him, feeling the tensing muscles of his chest against your hands, his own altering between running up your sides and your tits, giving them a hard squeeze, nipples hard against his palm.

"Bloody fuckin' hell, baby," he all but growled, "Such a good cunt for me. C'mere, wanna her you scream my name." He latched his hands onto the panties in your mouth, discarding then somewhere. 

The immediate lewd sounds that erupted from your mouth could surely be heard by anyone passing by the vicinity, but you found that you didn't quite care, thoroughly enjoying the way his dick twitched inside you as broken pleas of his name dripped from your mouth like honey, driving him to insanity.

"So f–fucking good," you cried, hips faltering as he hit a deep spot inside you that stung so good you could practically see stars.

"Those f–fuckin' bastards can't give it to ya like I can, hm?" Another sharp slap came down to your red, sore bum, sending you flying straight into his chest. He used the new angle to lift his thighs rapidly, pounding into you with vigor as you scratched his chest and shoulders, screaming his name, "That's right, need– need someone like me to fuck you j–just right…" His own voice was breaking, low grunts of pleasure coming out with his ragged breath as his cock disappeared inside you again and again.

"I–I'm close, s–sir… please… need t–to cum…" You buried your head on his neck, barely having the strength to hold yourself up. Not that you needed to, his big hands holding your hips locked in place as he hit a spot that had you reevaluating every single fuck you had before.

"Gonna cum on my cock like the dirty little whore you are, darling?" He nipped at your ear, going harder and deeper as you felt your high approaching. You couldn't even think straight enough to nod your head yes, biting his neck as you whimpered and squirmed, "Will you let me cum in you, hm? Fill up this pretty little pussy full of cum so you can walk around dripping? Fuck… you'd look so fuckin' pretty," he moaned the words through gritted teeth, legs shaking ever so slightly as his own orgasm started to build. He grabbed your chin harshly, fingers digging into your cheeks as he forced you to look at him, his eyes narrowed, bottom lip caught between his teeth as low grunts mixed with the sound of his thigh hitting your ass.

"Look at you," a moany laugh left his lips, mouth quivering up in a smug smirk, "So cock drunk for me, what would people think, hm? A pretty, smart lady like you– completely fuckin' ruined. Does it turn you on? Being put in your place and railed by your bloody professor?" That's all you needed to come undone above him, a string of incoherent babbles and broken cries of his name dancing out of your lips as you shook violently on his lap, hands coming down on his thigh to support yourself as the strongest orgasm you ever had washed through you. Head spinning in complete daze and disorientation.

You fell on top of him, body pliable like playdough as he continued to fuck into you, his own moans getting louder and out of breath as his own high came down on him.

"Oh shite– fuck, princess, let me cum in you. P–please…" The sound of this 6 foot man begging and writhing under you was nearly enough to get you ready for another round, if it weren't for your completely exhausted body. He didn't have to ask you twice as you moaned and nodded.

"F–Fill me up, sir, please. Want you to– to stuff me full of your cum." That was the only permission he needed as one his fingers dug into the flesh of your hip, sure to leave a bruise, his other hand moving from your face to your nape, gripping your hair and pulling you back. 

His head got lost in your neck, leaving bites all the way down to your breast, sucking on it hard and pulling your nipple between his teeth as he moaned, the gruff noises sending vibrations down your body as you felt him shake, burying himself inside you as a warm, thick liquid filled you to the brim, spilling down your leg and onto his lap. He desperately tried to catch his breath, resting on the seat with you on top of him, the sounds of your respiration the only thing you could hear along with distant sounds of sirens and cats from the city.

You both stood there for a minute, one of his hands coming down to your back as he brushed his fingers softly in a random pattern, sending small shivers through your body, his other hand still nestled in your hair, but now gently massaging your scalp, the sheer comfort of the movement would be enough to lull you to sleep in other circumstances. You also had your fingers on nis nape, playing with the little tips of his hair absentmindedly, head resting on the curve between his shoulder and his neck as you inhaled his scent, now a mix of sweat, his musky cologne and a bit of alcohol, you could get drunk alone through his smell, wanted to bottle it up and keep it to yourself forever.

"You okay, bunny? I hope I wasn't too rough with ya…" The low volume of his voice, a bit louder than a whisper, the obvious care that laced his words and the cute completely out of nowhere pet name made you melt into him even more. Your heart skipped a beat, a gentle sigh escaping your lips.

"You were perfect." You managed to get out amidst your dazzled state, your other hand squeezing his arm reassuringly. You felt his soft chuckle under you, his throat bobbing slightly with the sound before you felt him turn his head towards yours.

"I'm glad." Was all he said before planting a kiss so chaste, so caring and full of tenderness on your head you nearly passed out, unsure of how the man behind those soft lips and featherlight touch on your skin, as if he was afraid of tainting you, was the same one that fucked you senseless not even minutes ago. 

The sheer loving and innocent nature of his actions were almost enough to make you forget he was still balls deep in you, his liquid running down your sore thighs. You unglued yourself from him, looking down at the hot mess you made, the sight making you get wet all over again.

"That's quite the mess, innit?" You looked back at him, noticing the smirk and pure delight in his voice as he said it. You could feel his damn pride in the air, could see it in his eyes that he'd do it again ten times worse if he could. The thought alone sent you spiraling again.

"I'd offer to clean it up," you started, running your finger on a drop of his cum that ran down your thigh, taking it to your lips and locking eyes with him as you lapped it up, sucking your finger clean before removing it with a pop. The way his eyes darkened all over again, his cock twitched involuntarily inside you, made you smile in victory, "but my body would definitely give out and you'd be obligated to throw it in the river," you quipped and he just stared at you smiling, an odd, bewitched glimpse to his eyes, you felt even more vulnerable than when he was fucking you. 

"I won't let that happen," his hands brushed gingerly from your collarbones to your jaw, feeling your soft skin under his touch, he glanced down your lips, licking his, before going back up to your eyes, "I told ya I'd take care of you, didn't I?" 

You couldn't move away your sight from him, from his fucked out, half lidded look, the way his mustache was slightly wet still and his glasses fogged up near the bridge of his nose. Your mind was screaming for rest, but your body ached for him, for more. You unconsciously rolled your hips, relishing in how he threw his head back, exposing his neck, littered in purple blossoms, a hiss leaving his mouth, feeling his hand squeeze you involuntarily.

It'll be a long night. But perhaps, God doesn't hate you that much after all.

A/N: Whew, this was something. This absolute piece of filth and profanity was inspired by this lovely drawing and this video. I highly suspect that this concept will still make my imagination go wild, so expect perhaps a part 2?

Constructive criticism and feedback are always more than welcome! I hope you enjoyed reading~

Tag list: @thychuvaluswife

[newsourceofnonsense]

The Quite Girl's Heart

A love story of overcoming insecurities and an unexpected romance of a shy girl (Y/N) and a confident boy (Chris sturniolo)

A/N-new to writing, so sorry if it doesn't make sense. Just a sweet little fic to get my writing started. may dive deeper as time goes on.

Music mentioned= Lovers Rock, TV girl

T.W= none (just bad spelling and grammar)

Chris speaking is orange

y/n speaking is pink

This is y/n, when asked to describe herself she is quick to note down how she is pictured as a shy and introverted girl. She is not one to seek attention or crave the spotlight. Instead, she finds solace in her drawings and music, where she can get lost in her own little world. where people wish they can be like her.

Y/N have always been like this, ever since she was a child. Her parents used to worry about her, thinking that she would never open up to anyone. How she will slowly blend into the background. But she may be shy, but she have a big heart and is always willing to lend a listening ear to those who need it.

But despite her kind heart, no one really notices her. She is the shadow in the bustling hallways of the high school. Watching those around her and dreaming of being them. Y/N have a small group of friends, but even they sometimes forget that she is there.

That is until one day, its was last period Maths class, Y/N was not amazing at Maths but good enough to get a good grade. She usually spent maths lessons with her headphones in and doodling in her note book, with her work being finished early on. But today was different, Lovers Rock by Tv Girl had started to play, when she was suddenly interrupted by a figure sitting in the abandoned seat next to her. Y/N took no notice and began to complete her earlier doodle from lunch when the figure beside her tapped her arm.

With a shaky hand she paused the music and looked at the figure. Y/Ns eyes were met with Chris Sturniolo's. She didn't know many people at this school but she knew him. how couldn't you, he is a triplet for god sake. Chris had a slim build and light freckles scattered across his face. His brown hair had grown to a comfortable medium length, and was currently un kept giving Chris a carefree and approachable appearance. Chris's eyes are striking, with a ocean blue iris and a constant smile that lights up his face. Chris is known to have a very confident personality making him popular with the people he meets.

The lingering silence was broken by his confident yet hesitant voice "Sorry for bothering you Y/N, I'm Chris, Miss Koury said that you could help me out with my Maths" every part of Y/N wishes for her to say no, to excuse herself and go back to her own little world. But she could see the desperation form on his face. "Look Y/N, I could really use your help, I cant even begin to tell you how painful these lessons are" he looks down at her desk "and you always seem to get your work done instantly, so you must be really good at it." as he finishes his sentence she focus on that fact that he notices her, it was small and something many people may overlook but when you get overlooked by everyone else you take notice of these things. Y/N begin to reply "me? oh, no. I just like to stay on top of things" continuing on "and it means that the teachers don't bother me and leave me to listen to music" As Y/N spoke she can see that Chris has turned his full attention to her. He listened intently to every word she said, his eyes never leaving her face. She can feel the nerves filling her body.

He began to speak again and sensing the hesitance and uncertainty in her voice he tried his best to get rid of her fear. "Good at maths and organised, looks like I asked the right person to help me out" he leans in closer on a wait for a reply. Chris takes a closer look at Y/Ns face and he finds his gaze linger on her features. Y/Ns green eyes are striking, and Chris cant help but be drawn in by their intensity. He noticed the freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks, adding to her unique beauty. Chris couldn't help but found the shy girls smile enduring, Y/Ns most noticeable feature is her crooked nose. While many may see this as a flaw, Y/N included, in Chris's eyes it made her more attractive. Y/Ns cracked circle glasses sit slightly wonky on her face, but it only added to her character. Chris cant help but admire the black hair that falls in waves around the shy girls face, with streaks of white running through it like a silvery thread. he feels his smile growing as he sees her begin to speak again.

"oh, thank you." a warm sensation filled Y/Ns face, she just know that her cheeks were pink. "so... what exactly do you need my help with?" as soon as she finished her words Chris began "Maths. I really need help with Maths" Y/Ns lips curl upward into a shy smile, and her eyes crinkle at the corners as she giggles making her follow it up with her pushing her glasses up. Chris feels a sense of joy wash over him as he sees her reaction, seeing her become more comfortable around him. "I understand that" she reassures him "but what precisely about maths do you need help with?" Chris follows closely with this answer wanting to her voice again. "well basically everything." Chris said nervously "I see how well you do on test and I was hoping you could teach me your ways, so Miss Koury can finally leave me alone" he scanned her face waiting to see mockery swarm over it, but he was quickly reassured that this quiet girl is far form mockery. "you don't have to be so sweet" Y/Ns cheeks getting even more pink "Of course I will help" Y/N then begins to take out her note book revealing a neatly organized set of notes and practice problems. Chris couldn't help but be impressed by her preparation and dedication to the subject. Chris's confidence was infectious and Y/N could feel herself becoming ill with confidence. A lively but relaxed conversation bounced between them as Y/N explained and empathised points to Chris.

*time skip to the end of the lesson (so basically the end of the day)*

As the clocked ticked closer to the end of the day fellow classmates eagerly prepare there things to go home, whereas Chris and Y/N are still left in there comfortable conversation. Chris can see how passionate Y/N is about helping him, and Y/N couldn't believe that Chris noticed her and right now was laughing and smiling at all her crapy Maths jokes. Y/N could feel her heart flutter every time. Hearing the ruckus happening around him Chris debated on if he should ask Y/N for her number or at least a social media account, But just before he could muster up the courage the bell rang out. "Thank you for giving up your music time to help me Y/N" Chris spoke out as they calmly place their belonging into their bags "cant believe I am going to say this but..." curiosity filled Y/N face and a wave of nerves washed over her in anticipation on what he was going to follow with, then he began to speak. "I really enjoyed this Maths lesson" Then Y/N was hit with a sharp punch of disappointment, she was hoping he would say something different but she wasn't sure what. she plastered on a crooked nerves smile and began to speak "yeah. It was lovely taking to you" now finished zipping her bag she gently brushes pass Chris who is still gathering notes and shoving them into his bag.

Y/N exits the classroom, puts her earphones in and begins walking with the crowds of people to her locker. In her own world placing books neatly on her locker shelf and taking out her jacket a lone hand places itself on her shoulder and she begins to turn. Y/N is now met face to face with Chris again with Nick and Matt standing behind. Chris is struggling to close his bag showing clearly that he rushed to catch her, he catches his breath as Y/N yet again pauses her music for him. "sorry for making you pause your music again" Chris speaks out finally zipping up his bag and making himself look more presentable. "Don't worry it fine" Y/N say to make sure Chris knows he is not burden to her "err..was there something you needed?". Chris subtly looks behind him seeing the figures of his brother wating behind. He debts whether or not to ask for her number than finally begins to speak. "Well I was just wondering" Chris feels his confidence in battle with is nerves "well.... its just that"

The battle was lost Chris's nerves had won. He found himself fill with disappointment when his words coward to safety. "Do you mind helping me next Maths lesson". Y/N heart sinks, she is unsure why but she wishes for more. But with her heavy heart Y/N agrees to help once more "Ur...yeah I will be happy to help" Y/N didn't not want to miss a chance to be with Chris. Y/N has never felt this way before, she realised that when she spoke to him she didn't feel shy. Chris made her feel confident and comfortable in her own skin.

Before Chris could leave Y/N was struck but a pulse of confident and informed Chris "You can find me in the library" she had a sweet smile resting on her face and her eyes had a bright glow. Y/Ns tone softened and she spoke "just in case you need to talk" Y/N shocked by her own words and how forward she was being, stumbling on her next, trying to look less eager to talk to Chris again hoping she hadn't messed up "about the Maths problem" she stumbled out "I don't mind going over any of them" she anticipated to be declined for her offer but was soon was put at ease by Chris's words "Library". Repeating the location almost as to make a mental note, "OK" Chris said more for himself, showing that he retained the information. "well I am sure I will see you soon" he looks as his brothers beginning to walk to the exit sensing the end of the conversation sooner then Chris wanted. With Chris's brothers now out of ear shot he spoke "I'm sure I will have no problem mustering up some Maths questions to have an excuse to disturber your music once again". A pink hue was now painted over his face, with his feelings flustered be quickly turned to catch up with his brothers leaving Y/N with these final words "I have loved speaking to you". Y/N was left to reflect as she put on her jacket, shut her locker and began to walk home. He may had meant nothing by it she thought, it may have been a simple compliment. But still she found herself playing those words back in her mind, replacing the music that plays. Y/N found herself thinking about her interaction with Chris. How she felt nothing but happiness, she felt comfortable around him, her shyness becoming a distant figure in her past. And while she thought this was just a passing moment, that once he got a good grade it will go back to normal, she couldn't help but hope for more, hope that he asks for help with more classes, asks for help with anything. Just so she can she can see his beautiful soul again. Just so she can feel happy again.

*time skip to the next day- lunch time*

last night when finally arriving home Chris instantly began going over his note. Not for revision, NO! but so he can go see Y/N, to talk to her again.

Its now lunch and Chris has branched off from his brothers and his friends to make his way to the library. With a sticky note in hand with random maths questions he needs help with.

Making his way through the library, his confident and outgoing demeanour contrasted with the quite, studious atmosphere. Chris scanned the rows of shelves, searching for Y/N. He cant see her, he start to debate if he should keep looking or spend his lunch with his friends.

yet another battle was waging in his mind and he was scared of who will come out on top.....

*A/N- i hope you liked this. I didn't want it to be too long so if you will like a part 2 just say*

*A/N- any advice or recommendations are more then welcome*