#exam day checklist

[rohannsharma13]

What You Need to Know About PTE Exam Day: A Complete Guide

Before heading to the test center, make sure you have everything you need. A government-issued ID, your booking confirmation, and appropriate clothing are all essential. One thing many candidates overlook is how understanding the PTE format can enhance your performance. Knowing how each section works will allow you to pace yourself and stay focused throughout the exam. Preparation doesn’t stop at materials—it includes mental readiness too!

[shixcherie]

Hit After Hit | Jeong Yunho & Song Mingi.ft Wooyoung ☆

~ ~ call me chérie ☆

Navigation | Kinktober List

☆ Day 18 : Just the tip

↬ [ Synopsis ] : As you're cooped up in stress while working on ATEEZ's title track, your bestie Wooyoung suggests a little game. Yunho and Mingi join in on the fun, helping to take your stress away while you cook up a banger title track for ATEEZ’s comeback.

☆Word Count : 3.8k ☆Genre : Smut, Ansgt, Idol Au. ☆Pairing : Idol! Yunho x Producer! F.Reader x Idol! Mingi ( alil bit of Wooyoung in the beginning)

☆☆☆WARNINGS : Smut, just the tip kink, angst, reader is stressed, work talks, Wooyoung the savior, neck kisses, edging, nipple paly, double penetration, praise, pet names(princess, doll, baby), unprotected sex ( wrap it up babies), Yunho and Mingi share you like a freaking baton rewarding you one after the other.

NOTE : Grinding hard to catchup my loves as my exams had a chokehold on me as I deliver Day 18 to you. Since you guys really loved Damsel In Stress with Yunho and Mingi, I am here with another one for you. Our doll-princess duo are back. Hope you enjoy it ma chéries.

Today marked the worst day of your life. Literally!

After a messed-up coffee order, an extremely heated feedback session with Eden, and the worst creative block ever, all you wanted was to lock yourself in your room and sleep the night away. But, sadly, sleep was the last thing on your long checklist of things to fix in ATEEZ’s new comeback song, and considering that, sleep probably didn’t even exist on that list.

With Hongjoong busy handling other aspects, Eden had entrusted you with the title track this time, and you happily accepted it. Given your track record of producing amazing work in the past, this opportunity was well-deserved.

But being entrusted with ATEEZ’s title song is no easy responsibility, and Eden wasn’t an easy boss to impress. Your creative block had really killed the best of your skills, and everything was off about the piece you presented. Hence, the feedback was fair in every possible way.

With every passing second, your frustration only grew as you scrapped everything the moment you put it down. With a two-day deadline to come up with a completely new, 100% successful piece, the blank slate in front of you didn’t help, and a sob choked out of your lips.

“Fuck!” you screamed, burying your head between your hands as you tried desperately to come up with new beats that would match the track’s vibe.

Suddenly, a pair of hands slipped onto your shoulders, gently massaging, and you felt a calming presence behind you. Of your roommate, Wooyoung.His hands gently massaged your shoulders as he spoke softly, “You’re pushing yourself too hard again, aren’t you?”

You took a deep breath, leaning back in your chair. "I don’t have a choice, Woo. The deadline’s in two days, and nothing’s working. Everything sounds wrong."

He hummed, his hand gently brushing through your hair. "You’re just stuck in your head. Take a break, reset, and come back with fresh ears."

"I can’t," you muttered, biting your lip in frustration. "There’s no time."

Wooyoung leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. "There’s time for a little distraction. San and Yunho are coming over—movie night?" His voice was teasing but gentle.

You sighed. "I really shouldn’t, Woo—" Your mind felt too cluttered to even finish.

"Exactly why you should." He grinned, still massaging your shoulders. "Come on, we’ll make popcorn, watch something ridiculous, and you’ll feel better. Trust me."

You glanced at the screen, hesitation creeping in. "But the comeback... I can’t let the team down. Especially not with the title track."

Wooyoung paused, squeezing your shoulders. "You won’t. Eden trusts you, we trust you, and you should trust yourself too."

"But what if I mess it up? What if it’s not good enough?" you asked, doubt in your voice.

He smiled. "You’ve never let us down, even when you think you’re off. That’s why Eden gave you the title track. He knows you can do it, and so do I."

His words slowly eased the weight on your chest, and you exhaled.

“Look,” Wooyoung continued, “San , Mingi and Yunho will be here soon. We’ll watch something fun, reset, and tomorrow, you’ll crush it. I know you will.”

You chuckled softly. "Okay… but just for a little while."

Wooyoung lit up, placing a quick kiss on your cheek before eagerly pulling you up from the chair. "Let’s go!" he exclaimed, already dragging you toward the living room with excitement.

The movie truly turned out to be ridiculous. San passed out on the couch with his arm loosely draped over your shoulder, while Yunho and Mingi struggled to keep their eyes open on either side of you, and Wooyoung trying his hardest to endure the boring film. But the time away from the screen did clear your mind, a few fresh ideas began to emerge, and you weren’t feeling stuck anymore.

Carefully, getting your head off Woo’s shoulder and moving San’s hand off, you got up from between Wooyoung and Yunho, tiptoeing to your room.

Let’s finish this fucking piece already.

You felt motivated. But just for a while I guess as that motivation faded away into the night. Real soon.

As 30 minutes passed by, you found yourself back at square one, the blank slate laughing at you, mocking you through the screen. The fresh ideas you had turned out to be useless as you chewed on your lower lip in frustration.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t notice the faint sound of your bedroom door opening and closing as three figures entered.

A tap on you shoulder had you jump out off your chair as Wooyoung, Yunho and Mingi stared at you. All three of them exchanged a knowing look between the three of them. Yunho was the first one to break silence, “Can we help you in anyway, pretty girl ?”

��I don’t know if even God could help me out of this fucking situation,” you cried, not literally. It was more like a cry for help as a pout formed on your lips. You needed something-anything- to focus, a gentle push in the right direction and distraction to take your mind of the looming deadline. That’s when Wooyoung chimed in with the most bizarre idea.

A year ago, when you joined KQ, you were one of ATEEZ's biggest fans, running a full-fledged fan page dedicated to them. Your life had taken a complete 180 when a mix of one of their songs caught Eden's attention, leading him to call you and offer you a small project. Two years later, you found yourself working on some of ATEEZ's biggest projects, becoming close friends with the boys and even sharing a flat with Wooyoung. It was a “just friends” vibe, filled with occasional flirting and playful touches, but nothing more… until now.

“We thought it might be fun to turn this into a little… game,” Wooyoung said, taking your laptop off the table and walked toward the bed. Your brow arched in curiosity as you glanced betwween Yunho and Mingi, who met your gaze with a smirk,their eyes shining with mischief. Yunho guided you to the bed, and Mingi followed behind you, a sleepy grin on his face.

Your mind was a mush of nervousness and excitement as you were excited as well to see where everything’s gonna go. Yunho freed himself of his clothes as he settled comfortably on the bed, tapping his lap invitingly. Wooyoung positioned himself to Yunho's right, while Mingi took his place on the left, creating a cozy but spicy atmosphere.

Confusion swirled within you, and although your mind urged you to stop, your body betrayed you. A shiver ran down your spine as Yunho’s hands began unbuttoning your night shirt, leaving a trail of goosebumps whenever his fingertips playfully touched the front your chest.

“What’s running through your guys’ minds, huh?” you asked, your voice a mix of confusion and excitement, trying to shift off Yunho's lap. But he was quick to hold you in place, keeping you steady as Wooyoung knelt beside you, leaning in close as the mattress dipping beneath his weight.

“We thought you could use a little thrust after every progress you make on the mix,” Wooyoung explained, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “But you won’t be fully rewarded until you finish the song. Just the tip, baby. Ok ?” His voice was low and teasing, his warm breath brushing against your lips.

His lips, so close to yours, were impossible to resist. Your gaze flicked to them, and without missing a beat, Wooyoung captured your mouth in a hot, wet kiss, his hand firm on your jaw as you eagerly reciprocated. The kiss was brief but intense, leaving you flushed and breathless as he pulled away.

With a smirk, Wooyoung wiped the corner of his mouth and said, “I’ll leave the big boys to take care of you. Fighting, babe. You can finish this.” His voice held a playful encouragement as he slipped off the bed, making his way toward the door.

“But Woo… won’t you stay?” you asked, your lips still tingling from the kiss, eyes wide with anticipation.

“I really want to babe..but there is a kitten in the living room waiting for me.” Wooyoung shot you a cheeky grin, refering to our sleepy kitten, San who had dozed off earlier and with that he ran out the room leaving you with the big boys.

Yunho at this point had fully freed you off you clothes, which you only realised after cold air brushed against your naked form. Both Yunho and Mingi fully naked, sprawled on the the bed with you in between along with your tiny laptop.

All of this was happening a lil too quickly for you to make sense of it.The whole situation felt surreal, like a dream.Anyhow, whatever gets you to finish up the song track, i guess.

You settled into the rhythm of the game, your heart racing as you got started on the brass section, the boys providing just the distraction you needed to refocus. Yunho’s warm breath on your neck, his hands resting on your waist, and his body pressed up against yours radiated comforting warmth. Mingi sat beside you, his eyes gleaming with mischief as his large hands rubbed your soft thighs, occasionally squeezing them.

“You’ve got this, princess,” Yunho murmured against your ear, his lips brushing lightly against your skin as his hands slid lower, teasingly close but not quite enough to stop you from working.

You focused on the laptop, your fingers moving over the keys as you adjusted the mix. The brass section slowly began to take shape, but every shift of Yunho’s hips beneath you sent a shiver up your spine. It was hard to stay grounded in the music, especially when his hands tightened around you while Mingi’s fingers worked magic on your thighs.

“Work hard, doll. Finish it while we take care of you,” Mingi’s deep voice rumbled through you, sending another wave of heat to your core. Only you knew the struggle of resisting the urge to toss the laptop aside and give in to them completely.

The moment you hit “save,” completing the brass section, Yunho’s lips curled into a smirk. His hands pulled you closer against him, and his hips lifted slightly.

“First thrust, princess. Ready?” he whispered, his voice a low tease. He gave you a single, slow thrust, not fully bottoming out, just enough to make your breath hitch. A soft gasp escaped your lips, and your body instinctively arched into him as warmth spread through you. He held you close, placing a tender kiss on your cheek. “That’s your reward, princess.”

After a moment, he pulled out completely, leaving you whimpering at the sudden loss of fullness. With a smirk, he handed you over to Mingi like a baton in a relay race, ready for the chorus section.

You moved over to Mingi’s lap, the switch smooth but leaving you feeling light-headed and NO!, its not just from the work. His large, warm hands settled possessively around your hips, adjusting you on top of him with a firm grip. Yunho moved to your side, still within reach, his fingers brushing your arm left goosebumps in their wake.

Mingi’s lips ghosted over your shoulder, kissing the tattoo behind it as you began working on the chorus. And just like how the chorus elevates a song, Mingi took things up a level, rubbing the tip of his long, thick cock against your slippery folds.

“This is torture, you know.” you muttered, eyes never leaving the screen, feeling Mingi smile against your shoulder. The friction between your cunt and his cock created a delicious rhythm, pushing you dangerously close to the edge.

“Whatever keeps you working, princess,” Yunho teased, stealing a quick kiss that made you smile. His hand moved to Mingi's cock, applying just enough pressure to push the tip into your aching hole. You gasped audibly, blinking a couple of times, but Mingi pulled away before you could fully give in.

Mingi chuckled, the deep sound vibrating against your back, sending shivers through you. Yunho’s teasing and encouraging touches kept you on the edge, but they somehow helped you wrap up the chorus section.

The boys hummed in unison, approving the direction the song was going, giving you hope that you might actually finish it.

As you saved the chorus section, Mingi rewarded you with his first proper thrust. His hips moved slowly and deliberately, though he didn’t bottom out, stretching you just enough to make you feel the burn.A moan finally escaped your lips as your walls welcomed him in, your fingers gripping the laptop. The mix was saved, but your focus shattered.

“You’re so perfect, doll. In every fucking way.” Mingi murmured, his deep voice like velvet in your ear. “This title track’s gonna be a banger.” he added, as Yunho nodded with a genuine smile.

If only you got this kind of encouragement for every single project.You’d be unstoppable.

Next, lets add the drums.

This time you ended up between both of them. As your worked on the next section, Yunho hands made way down south as he found you aching clit, pinching it which had your hands tremble on the keyword from the intense sensation. A low gasp left your lips, but your refocused.

Mingi’s hands wiped the sweat the trickled on your forehead which was kinda ironic given the air condition was at it lowest. Moving a few stands of hairs away from your face his hand found your tatoo again. Guess he had found a new love for it as his hands traced softly on the tatoo.

As you added beats after beats in the drums section, Yunho’s fingers also moved with intensity, matching the beats somehow. His fingers (add something here)

While Mingi’s attention stayed on your tatoo, his one hand busy tracing, his other hand found you boobs. Cupped the left one, he gently squeezed it as you shuddered at the sudden attention there. His long fingers pinched you nipples as the intensity matched with Yunho intense rubs on your dripping cunt but he did not enter you, yet.

Finally you finished the drums section and were ready to earn your rewards and the boys were eager to give. Your gazed flicked, trying to make a decision. Technically you should go with Yunho to play fair but Mingi attracted you equally. So you decided to go with both as you settle in between them, with Yunho below you and Mingi on top of you. Their huge cocks, entered your both holes, stretching them deliciously as your toes curled, a loud moan escaped your lips while the two boys groaned. Not fully bottom out, just stretching you deliciously and after a while they pull out.

You sit up, eyes hazy from the beautiful sensation you just experienced. You needed that more. And not just teasing you wanted them to fuck your properly.

Your eyes burned with fire as you dramatically stretched you hands to bang out the second chorus and final touches, wanting to wrap it up for once and all. The boys chuckled at your antics but were equally impressed as the song fiinally taking shape amazingly.

This time, you sat between both of them. As you worked on the next section, Yunho’s hands traveled down south, finding your aching clit. He pinched it gently, sending tremors through your body and causing your fingers to tremble on the keyboard from the intense sensation. A low moan escaped your lips, but you forced yourself to refocus.

Mingi’s hand brushed the sweat trickling down your forehead, which felt ironic given that the air conditioning was set to its lowest. He moved a few strands of hair away from your face, his fingers tracing your tattoo once more. It seemed he had developed a newfound affection for it ashe softly traced the inky piece.

With each beat you added to the drum section, Yunho’s fingers moved with increasing intensity, matching the rhythm somehow. He pressed down firmly on your clit, his fingers dancing and teasing, heightening the sensations building within you.

While Mingi's attention remained on your tattoo, one hand tracing it gently, the other found your breast. He cupped your left one, squeezing it gently as you shuddered from the sudden attention. His long fingers pinched your nipple, the intensity aligning perfectly with Yunho's passionate rubs on your dripping cunt, but neither of his fingers fully entered you,yet.

Finally, you finished the drum section and were ready to earn your rewards, and the boys were eager to give.

Your gaze flicked back and forth, trying to make a decision. Technically, you should go with Yunho to play fair, but Mingi attracted you just as much.

So you chose both of them.

You settled in between them, with Yunho below you and Mingi above. Their huge cocks entered both your holes, stretching you deliciously as your toes curled and a loud moan escaped your lips, ripping out groans from both the boys. They didn’t fully bottom out, just stretching you exquisitely, and after a while, they pulled out.

You sat up, eyes hazy from the beautiful sensations you had just experienced. You craved more. Not just teasing, you wanted them the whole experience, you wanted them to fuck you properly.

Your eyes burned with determination as you dramatically stretched your hands to bang out the second chorus and final touches, wanting to wrap it up once and for all. The boys chuckled at your antics, but they were equally impressed as the song finally took shape beautifully. It had the Ateez vibe. Almost.

Lets go!

The second chorus part wrapped up in a swoosh as the boys exchanged amazed looks, seeing you fully in the zone. Your fingers quickly worked on the keyboard, layering and layering more and more, bringing the whole piece together. Everything was aligning perfectly as hope surged inside you; the piece turned out beautifully. You were fully confident now that Eden would be so proud and satisfied once he listened to this.

Wrapping up the chorus and adding final touches to the track, you looked at the boys, your eyes requesting them to keep working and finish it out. They both chuckled as they let you continue.

A smile adorned Mingi’s face, his eyes holding adoration for you and your determination. He remembered the first day he saw you in the KQ building when Eden brought you in, and now seeing your work on your title track made him so happy. He had always found you cute and wondered if you were single or not.

Yunho’s mind also ran a reel of memories where you celebrated with them after every one of their comebacks. Your smile had imprinted in his mind, and your laughter rang in his ears. How amazing those times were, he thought, as he eagerly waited for this comeback to become a banger so you could join them again.

“Done!!!” you shouted, your hands up in the air. Your scream pulled them out of their thoughts. “Wanna listen?” you asked, eagerly waiting for them to say yes.

After they finished listening, they were truly in awe of how your little head could come up with such amazing stuff and also proud that you could bang out the whole track in one single night.

“Now shall we return to what we left unfinished?” Yunho asked, his eyes playfully narrowed at you, awaiting your approval. You nodded eagerly.

With that, not wasting a single second, Mingi captured your lips.

Mingi’s lips were warm against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. You melted into the kiss, feeling the weight of the night’s hard work slip away as the tension in the air shifted to something much more intimate. His big hands held your face, deepening the kiss as he pulled you closer. You could feel Yunho’s gaze on you, a mix of hunger and amusement in his eyes as he watched the two of you.

“Careful there, Mingi,” Yunho teased, his voice a low growl. “Don’t make her forget all the hard work she just did.”

Mingi chuckled against your lips, the sound vibrating through you and making you smile. “Oh, I think she’ll remember, especially when I’m done with her.”

Breaking the kiss, Mingi leaned back slightly to meet your eyes, “You ready for round two?” he asked, his voice laced with lust.

You bit your lip, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “More than ready,” you admitted, glancing at Yunho, who looked like he was holding back a smile.

“That’s like my pretty doll.” he said, moving closer.

With that, Mingi shifted you to the side, allowing Yunho to slide behind you. You settled back against him, feeling the warmth of his body envelop you. His hands found your waist, guiding you as he leaned in to kiss your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

Mingi wasted no time as he gave his cock a few storkes before he lined himself against your dripping entrance. He slowly pushed himself inside, stretching your delicoulsy again and he leaned in to capture your lips again. Yunho’s hands guided your hips to his throbbing cock, gently lining himself at your asshole he filled you in as well.

“Let’s see how well you can multitask with both of us filling you, princess.” Yunho whispered against your ear, his breath warm and inviting.

With Mingi's steady thrusts and Yunho's rhythmic movements, you felt the world around you begin to fade away. Every stroke sent waves of pleasure crashing over you, your body caught in a delicious rhythm between the two of them. Mingi's kisses grew more intense, igniting a fire within you, while Yunho's fingers gripped your waist, guiding you to meet their thrusts as you became lost in the sensations.

“You are taking us so well, doll,” Mingi murmured against your lips, his breath hot and heavy.

You moaned in response, unable to form words as pleasure built within you, the tension in your core tightening with each thrust and all the teasing you had endured the whole night. Yunho's voice in your ear only intensified the pleasure. “Come for us, princess. You deserve it after that whole night of work.”

The way they filled you was intoxicating, each movement pushing you closer to the edge. You could feel the warmth pooling deep inside you, a sweet release that was just within reach.

With every thrust, every kiss, every word that left their lips you were pushed closer to the edge, making your heart race.

Finally, with a few more deep thrusts and the sound of Mingi's low growls mingling with Yunho's soft whispers, the tension inside you snapped. You cried out, your body trembling as waves of pleasure washed over you, leaving you breathless.

“I’m—oh my god,Ugh this feels heavenly.” you gasped, the world filled with bliss as you felt them both gently pull out of you, as they found their own release and covered you stomach and back with white ribbons of hot cum.

As you recovered from the release, Wooyoung barged in, his hair and face a mess, proof of the wild night he had with San in the living room. His eyes were already closed, as if he assumed you’d be in some intimate position. “Want an early morning snack, guys?” he asked. Your eyes flicked to the clock, it was 5 AM in the morning.

Wow! That was a long-ass session.

“Yes, please. I am starving,” you replied dramatically, earning a chuckle from both Yunho and Mingi as you all dressed and made your way outside the room to the kitchen.

Later that day, you found yourself standing in front of Eden, your heart racing as you handed over the final piece. The anticipation was almost unbearable as you watched him, his expression unreadable while he listened carefully.

Finally, as the track came to an end, Eden leaned back in his chair, a small but approving smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “This is solid work. This will be on the album for sure.” he said, his voice carrying the praise you had been waiting for. And just like that, relief and pride washed over you. All the hard work, the sleepless night, it was worth it.

You couldn’t help but grin, the weight of the project finally lifting off your shoulders.

Gotta thank Wooyoungie and the boys for being such good focus buddies.

~ ~ Chérie ☆ signin’ off

Disclaimer : This is totally fictional and not a real depiction of the ATEEZ members. It's all just for fun only so please don’t take anything seriously and keep the mood light around here.

© ShixCherie.

[wasjustred]

Winter Weather Warning - NSFW Larissa Weems x f!Reader

Summary: A blizzard comes barreling through the area and you find yourself stranded———in Larissa’s quarters.

Pairing(s): Larissa Weems x femprof!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, smut – fingering and cunnilingus (reader receiving); Larissa gets an orgasm

Word Count: ~6.3k (oops)

Author’s Note: Whaaat? A fic? From me? Finally?? I hope this was worth the wait! Thanks to all you lovely folk who’ve been so patient with me; there’s been a lot going on in my life so I’m very appreciative of you all. Feedback, as always, is welcome and encouraged! ♡ ﹠. a special thank you to my beta readers @sapphicsbeloved and @zephyr-is-tired ——— sending you many kisses and finger waggles for your help! 😙🥰 ╱ AO3

You try not to begrudge the snow for falling when and where it will. It’s pretty, you have to admit: soft, and flurried, sweeping over the stone grounds of Nevermore without prejudice. You peer out from your window and watch scattered groups of students chase after each other gleefully, faces turned up toward the sky like small purple sunflowers in their school uniforms, arms outstretched and reaching. The low angle of the sun against the trees suggests dusk will fall soon, just enough light still to cast long, excitable shadows across the ground.

A smile prods at your lips as you turn away from the window and further into your classroom with the intention of setting up for your last class of the day. You’d originally planned to guide them through a review period for an exam next week, but with the state of the sky and the weekend finally here, you decide a film might instead be just what everyone needs; you can afford to push the exam back another day, and really, they’ll be gunning for extra time where they can get it anyway. You know your students well enough.

When the kids begin filing in, you delegate tasks without explanation, the room abuzz as you instruct one student to close the blinds and a few others to adjust the desks just so. You catch a glimpse of the world down below before the windows cover up: Steady flurries still, but nothing that worries you. The kids’ thrill at spending the period in relaxation when you reveal your plan to them is enough to distract from any further thoughts on the weather, anyhow.

The hour passes swiftly as you sit in the back grading papers, every so often glancing up to take stock of the room. Everyone files out just as fast at the sound of the bell and calls out wishes for a good weekend while you’re left to rearrange the room back into its original state. You take care of the desks first, pack your own items up, decide to leave the windows for Monday since it’s dark out by now, no longer any ribbons of light sneaking through the cracks where the blinds don’t quite meet glass. A nice bottle of wine, a fire, maybe a few candles and a good book… the night is promising, and you run through a mental checklist of how many comfort items and practices you can employ as you wander down to the front entrance, bundled up tightly in your coat to brave the cold.

But when you reach the landing of the long staircase, the sight that greets you is not promising in the slightest: the outer floodlights cast a muted glow over what had been a harmless shower of snow, now furious gusts of heavy flakes collecting faster than your brain can entertain. There has to be at least a couple inches out there already, and the realization that you’ll have to navigate through the winding, hilly roads of Vermont in the middle of this elicits a groan. The treeline is hardly visible amidst the dark and the snow, and the roads are likely no better off: the town tends to skirt right around Nevermore when salting the streets. This drive’ll be a perilous one at best.

“Absolutely not.” The sound of Larissa’s disapproval startles you into a sharp and over-dramatic gasp, every muscle of yours tensing at once when her voice comes from just behind you. 

“Jesus, you scared me! ‘Absolutely not’ what?” You turn to her with features marred by confusion - once the surprise has melted away - and tilt your head up, taking a small step back to balance yourself when you realize how close she is. She looms over you in a way only she can: regal and overwhelming–––yet cordial all the same, offset by the soft floralness of her perfume. The fact that she’d reached you there without a sound would likely be unsettling if it were anyone else. With her it’s just… attractive, the slyness of it all. The mischievous grin she bares in response to how you jump doesn’t help.

“There is absolutely no chance I’m letting you drive in that.” This elicits an incredulous scoff as you peer up at her, arms lifting at your sides like a pair of very exasperated, very amused wings.

“Letting me? What am I supposed to do? Break my back sleeping on the floor of the library? No thanks.”

“Don’t be silly,” Larissa tsks, pressing her lips together in an all too familiar demonstration of thought. She’s quick with her next words, though, and something tells you there wasn’t much thought to be given at all. “You’ll stay with me.”

The firmness with which she says this, the matter-of-fact tone that has always so easily slid off her tongue, leaves no room for discussion. You gape at her but Larissa’s already swiveling on her heel and walking in the direction of her office as though it’s been decided once and for all, no questions asked. She throws a crooked finger over her shoulder and gestures for you to follow, the sound of her heels now echoing through the mostly-empty halls.

You wonder, frivolously, how in the hell you didn’t hear her the first time around.

You rush after her with quick steps in an effort to keep up; Larissa’s long, unhesitating strides carry her farther and faster than you can move without some effort. The view of her backside, however, is not one that merits complaint. You follow the curve of it up until you come upon a landing you’re not familiar with, nearly knocking into Larissa when she halts abruptly and turns towards you for the first time since this little journey began. She looks almost unsure of herself now, eyes flitting about rather than meeting yours. It’s one thing, you know, to flirt in passing; to brush arms when you’re both chaperoning students in Jericho; to trade amused, knowing glances across faculty meetings. But it’s another to invite you into her sanctuary, a decisive and loaded crossing of one of the last lines between the two of you.

“If you’d prefer, I believe there’s an empty dorm room I can have made up for you. It’d be no problem.” She finally looks down at you long enough for you to read what’s going on behind that mask of hers, typically pristine and perhaps a touch righteous: she’s trying to give you an out, trying to relinquish control for a second before she commandeers your night, and she’s worried she’s already gone too far by bringing you up here in the first place.

But you’re not going to say no to a night at Larissa’s side, especially when the potential for a warm fire and a glass of wine or two is so high.

Especially when it’s her asking.

“No, it’s alright. Unless you’ve changed your mind?”

“Not at all,” she’s quick to blurt out, shaking her head. “I simply wanted to make sure you knew you had the option, that’s all.”

With that, Larissa turns again and begins the ascent to what you assume is her hall–––until you’ve reached another landing with only one door, and she pushes it open to reveal an entire apartment all her own. It’s very her, this place: Warm, shining, elegant. The living room is awash with low, simmering lights, furnished with a mix of dark leather and velour, a towering bookcase taking up the whole of one of the far walls with an accompanying reading nook. She walks you further into the threshold and eases the door closed behind you, hovering silently as you take the space in. There are a few framed art pieces that you promise yourself you’ll review more thoroughly later on, scattered vases of flowers and various, high-hanging mirrors.

What truly draws your attention, however, are the photos strategically lining the walls, clearly taken at various points in Larissa’s life: A small platinum-blonde girl carefully posed before a Christmas tree with two very proper looking hounds on either side of her, all very regal and staged except for the wide, nose-crinkling grin on the girl’s face; a beach trip with the same girl, slightly older now, arm thrown over her face as she squints against the sun and into the camera - and a pair of kids that look to be around her age chase each other in the background; teenage Larissa suited up and on horseback, smiling proudly as a judge strings a blue ribbon around the horse’s halter; graduation photos from Nevermore; a trip to the Scottish Highlands, it looks like, a twenty-something Larissa soaked to the bone but grinning out at the miles and miles of luscious greens like she couldn’t be bothered less by the weather. It’s the most you’ve ever seen of her.

Eventually Larissa brushes behind you, laying a hand at your waist in passing as she toes off her heels and begins the process of lighting the fireplace.

Her touch leaves an emphatic tingle in its wake.

“I didn’t think my wall was that particularly exciting,” she muses, glancing over her shoulder at you. You duck your head and turn from the wall, following her lead as you slip out of your shoes and place them next to her own.

“I always like to see what people were like before I knew them. It’s intimate.” Larissa’s gaze softens almost imperceptibly before she returns her attention to the fire, adjusting the logs one last time and replacing the latch on the brass screen.

“What do they tell you, those pictures?” She wipes her hands and comes to rest against the edge of a couch, gazing at you as you shift on your feet and consider her question. Her eyes remain soft, but there’s something else lurking there behind the blue now: Curiosity? Interest? Desire, even? You can’t read it for sure, so you clear your throat and move back to the photographs on her wall, crossing your arms over yourself.

“Well, .. this one,” you start, gesturing towards the Christmas tree, “screams rich.” Larissa snorts loudly and tilts her head in a way that says you’re not wrong. “Probably an only child - at least at the time, otherwise there’d be other kids with you.” Her smile gives nothing away this time, but you charge ahead, brushing your fingers against the frame that holds the beach between its borders.

“This isn’t an American beach, that much I know.” You choose not to elaborate, allowing your ‘Americanness’ to speak for itself. “But I can’t tell if you grew up going there or if it was a special vacation, maybe visiting family… ?” you trail off as your gaze drifts over to her questioningly. She just shrugs, and you click your teeth in mock disapproval before moving on.

“You look happy here,” you observe, allowing your hand to drift over the photo of Larissa in her English riding gear. “Unforced. You enjoyed competing, maybe preferred your horse to people.” This one might be an unfair deduction, supplemented by your understanding of how cruel kids can be–––especially to an outcast, especially to a 6’3” girl.

“The Duke,” Larissa pitches in, pushing up off the couch’s back to join just behind your shoulder, gazing over at the photo in question. “My mother hated the name, but I insisted. He was a gift for my fifteenth birthday,” she reminisces, breath coursing over the tip of your ear. You peer up at her as she smiles, something sad and regretful there before she sucks in a deep breath and points out a new photo to you, more recent by the looks of it: Larissa stands with a large group of students in their Nevermore uniforms, mid-laugh as one of the kids waves his hands wildly and another has their mouth agape in what looks to be protest. Her eyes are crinkled - genuine - and one of her hands seems to be in the process of making its way up to cover her mouth, the other mindlessly resting at her midsection. You know that laugh. It’s her most uninhibited, her most authentic, which only comes out when she’s caught completely off-guard. Your favorite, if you’re honest.

“My first class of students as principal of Nevermore,” Larissa offers, scrunching her nose happily at the memory.

“What’d he say? That student?” You’re part genuine curiosity and part selfishness: eager to know what made her laugh like that, and how you can take hold of that kid’s humor and use it for yourself, elicit a look like that, a laugh like that, which so rarely comes about during school hours.

“I wish I could remember,” she murmurs, taking one last look before clasping her hands together and shocking you out of the reverie. “But nevermind all that. Have you eaten dinner yet?”

You nod sheepishly, nearly apologetic knowing she likely hasn’t and is looking to be a good hostess. But she merely nods, looking relieved: “Oh good, I can’t be bothered to cook tonight,” Larissa admits, a teasing grin stretching from ear to ear. 

“Let me show you where everything is, then.” She guides you down the hall and nudges one of the doors open, gesturing with an open palm. “Here’s the bathroom. Extra amenities are in the second drawer there, towels in the closet.” The suite is nicer than any bathroom you’ve ever had, really the stuff of luxury hotels: white marble floors, a deep soaking tub, gold knobs and handles on almost every appliance. You’ve no choice but to forcefully shoo away the startling, indecent imaginings that break through your reserves of Larissa sinking deep into the lush bubbles of the tub, skin glistening, chest bare––––

“Heated floors, too. I never go cold in the winters.” Ever humble, Larissa pulls at your shoulder gently and switches the light off, directing you to another door just diagonal of the bathroom. When she swings the door open, you’re embarrassingly aware of the way your jaw drops.

“Bedroom’s this way,” she says, stepping into the space. It’s gorgeous, swooping drapes of dark ruby and gold, satin bedding that pools over the mattress and onto the floor, puddles of fabric against a thick persian rug. There’s another fireplace opposite the bed, an area farther off with another scaling bookcase and two large, well-worn armchairs, a small number of intricately designed table and floor lamps, a matching vanity and armoire, the former of which is careful, lived-in chaos with its scattered tubes of lipstick and skin care tinctures.

It’s Larissa.

“Wow,” you breathe, meeting her amused gaze. “You never mentioned you live like this. I would’ve taken you up on a sleepover much sooner if I’d known.” Larissa flushes and coughs out a coy laugh, smoothing a hand over her hair as she looks out across the room.

“Yes, well. You’re here now.” She reaches out and lifts your handbag from you, pulling at your coat lapel next to signal you should take it off. Once you do, Larissa hangs it along one of the walls and places your bag on her vanity. Busy work. “I have clothes you can borrow of course, though they may be a bit big. I’ll set them out, although,” she pauses, glancing at her bedside clock, “it’s early still… Up for a movie? Glass of wine?”

You’re almost - almost - embarrassed by the unrestrained nodding of your head, but hell, it’s been a long week, and relaxing with a bottle of wine sounds like the perfect reward for making it through without breaking down [in front of your students]. The fact that it’s Larissa’s personal wine, in her personal quarters, in her personal hands does nothing to lessen the appeal.

The question of where Larissa will sleep, if showing you the bedroom was her way of offering it to you, hangs in your head, but you decide the answer can wait until the time for sleep comes around. By no means are you going to allow Larissa to banish herself to the couch in her own home. You’d sooner take the floor–––even if you’d jokingly complained about that very same concept earlier in the hour.

“Do you have a preferred genre?” She asks as you both return to the living room, you perching on the sofa as she disappears into what you assume is the kitchen to fetch the wine. It’s not normally a loaded question, nor one worth considering too deeply, but you realize you have an opportunity here… and if Larissa’s occasional blushes, her soft gaze, mean what you hope they do, perhaps there’s a strategy to be employed. You shift further into the cushions, absentmindedly running a hand over your clavicle in thought.

“Don’t laugh… but I’m a sucker for romance when the weather’s like this,” you call out. Larissa peeks her head out from around the corner, brows furrowed in funny disbelief.

“Really?”

“Wha–– why is that so hard to believe?!”

“It’s not, I just.. wasn’t expecting it, I suppose. You seem more of the action or thriller type.” She shrugs and disappears again without further explanation, leaving you to half-pout half-ponder at her words. Before you can make an argument in your defense, however, she’s returning with two full glasses, bottle tucked under her arm, and dimming the lights, a practiced look of concentration slanted across her features as she makes her way over to the couch and lowers one of the glasses into your waiting hand. The red sloshes up just near the edge when Larissa hands it off, and you half-jokingly prod at her as your brows shoot up in amusement.

“Are you trying to get me drunk, Principal Weems?” She tuts with faux indignation, but the growing flush of her cheeks betrays her.

“I wouldn’t dare.” She settles next to you - still a respectable distance for colleagues, but closer than mere acquaintances - and places the uncorked bottle on the table ahead of you, grinning.

“Romance it is, but I pick.” You ‘d be surprised by her demand if you didn’t know Larissa’s need to be in control at all times. In fact, if anything surprises you, it’s her calmness in the face of this turbulent weather–––perhaps the most uncontrollable variable there is. Even the most headstrong people can be manipulated, but not the sky.

The film she chooses isn’t one you’ve seen before, which excites you, and you both sink into the couch with a comfortable silence. You share little notes back and forth on the revolving plots and chuckle at the occasional joke, however cliché, as the movie rolls, finding an easy rhythm you’ve never before been able to appreciate amidst the chaos of classes and faculty meetings. 

It’s about an hour in, having finished your first glass and poured another for yourself and Larissa, that you make the mistake of peering over at her from the corner of your eye. A particularly sappy scene is playing out before you. The TV’s light flickers softly against her face, which is content and dare you say tender as the two protagonists share a moment together. The stumble before the fall. Her forehead creases and you have the sudden urge to kiss the lines away, warmed by the wine and her beauty.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she whispers hoarsely, though her eyes never leave the screen. 

Your heart jolts when she catches you out, running hot with guilt. Your legs shift beneath you as you move to scoot a few inches away - to give her space from your leering gaze - but you freeze when you feel her hand on your knee, holding you in place. You watch her for any sign that’ll tell you what’s going through her head but she doesn’t budge further, only loosening her hold on you a fraction when you relax against the cushions again. Your heart is beating hard at the door of your ribs as you tilt your head back towards the movie, far too distracted to actually process anything that’s happening. The air is so thick now your lungs can hardly keep up; it’s a dizzying thing, electric, and your thoughts jumble haphazardly as you wonder whether or not Larissa’s feeling it, too.

You risk a peek at her again–––but Larissa is already looking at you. 

Her chest is heaving, albeit subtly, and her eyes are dark. A steep wave of arousal pulses through you when her tongue slips out along her upper lip, her gaze flicking down to your mouth and back up again: a question. The second you nod her mouth is on yours, both of you sighing into the touch. You cup the back of her neck, pulling her closer still as your other hand fists around the fabric of her dress. An insistent tug at your waist brings one of your legs between her own, hips rolling against each other as she gropes at you mindlessly, squeezing the thigh slotted over her heat.

“Is this okay?” she asks breathlessly, dragging your bottom lip between her teeth before she pulls away to look at you. Her cheeks are flushed a heavy pink and her lipstick is smudged. You giggle at the realization that there must be bright crimson streaks along your chin and lips.

“Yes,” you assure her between steadying pants, stroking a hand from her shoulder to her wrist and entwining your fingers, giving them a gentle pinch. “You alright?”

A smile briefly turns her lips, soft and loose. “Very much so.”

The next few moments are sweeter, slower as you take your time savoring her taste, tracing the swell of her lips, the delicate scar at the top there, following the line of her jaw up into her hair with your fingertips. She presses into you as gentle as ever, drawing shivers up to the surface of your skin as her hand snakes up the length of your spine. Barely there still is the sound of the fire lingering in its box and the distinct roar of wintry gusts at the window, mere suggestions at the back of your brain. The wine’s been long forgotten on the table.

You shudder when Larissa’s fingers tease at the lower hem of your blouse and brush against a bare sliver of skin, resting there before you arch into her and take hold of her wrist, guiding her hand higher. Her lips quirk to one side at your earnestness, especially as she reaches the clasp of your bra. She hesitates again, more teasing than searching, and slides her tongue into your willing mouth, exhaling sharply when you meet her move for move. Nimble fingers unclasp the bra without issue before they drift around to your front, putting distance between your bodies as Larissa palms your breasts, takes a nipple between her fingertips and pulls and twists with wicked dexterity.

A whimper escapes you when she sinks her teeth into your lip for a second time, much harsher this go around before she suddenly parts from you and begins pressing open-mouth kisses along your jaw and down your neck, nipping and soothing in time with the hapless rocking of your hips. She adjusts to unbutton your top, never once pausing in her assault on your neck as she does so.

“Wait,” you pant out suddenly, and all at once her body leaves you, drawing back to give you space. The look on Larissa’s face is a concerned one, but gentle still, and you know she’ll follow where you need. It’s everything you can do not to keep her waiting in exchange for the chance to look at her, swollen lips and mussed hair, dress askew. 

She’s never been more beautiful to you. 

“Take me to bed.”

Her concern is washed away and replaced with relief - and then more prominent, want.

Larissa rises up from the couch and reaches a hand out to you, catching you off-guard when instead of walking you to the bedroom once you stand, she bends at the knee and scoops you up, your legs coming to wrap around her waist as you laugh in surprise.

“Who am I to say no,” she teases, placing a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips before making the careful trek over to the bedroom.

The question of where she’ll sleep is hardly that anymore. 

You’re both already naked and rocking against each other beneath her blankets when the power goes out. Neither of you truly take notice until the temperature in the room’s significantly plummeted.

“Oh–––one moment, darling.” You push yourself up on your elbows and whine as Larissa slips out of bed, hissing against the cold. Goosebumps raise along her skin, the peaks of her nipples hardening further as she rushes to kneel before the fireplace, sparking a flame in record time. Her skin nearly glows in the moonlight that trickles in from the windows, reflective amidst the snow. She looks like a ghost before you - ethereal, hauntingly so - and you tilt your head, gaze tracking from the deep slope of her calves to the fine curve of her ass, the faint divots of her spine, the wisps of hair that have come loose from their hold and fallen to her shoulders.

“You’re staring,” Larissa chides as she slides back under the covers, shivering.

“I’m admiring,” you correct lamely, a pitiful pout coming to rest upon your lips as you open your arms and draw her closer to warm her now-frigid skin. She hums as if to say ‘yeah, okay,’ burrows into you and drapes an arm across your middle as she pushes her leg between yours. Your hips instinctively buck when her thigh slides against the wetness of your cunt, and you’re both abruptly reminded of what had you so distracted in the first place.

Larissa tentatively nods towards you again and runs the tip of her tongue along your pulse point, your hips beginning to rock together once more, panting heavily and in unison while the storm surges on outside, unabated. The heat pooling in your stomach is in stark contrast to the drifting chill in the room, rearing a confused, overwhelming sensation of hot-cold along your skin. Larissa’s breath, warm on your neck, only further urges the feeling along until you feel as though you might snap if she doesn’t take you fully.

“Please,” you whimper, dragging your nails up over her back with little reserve. Larissa nips at your chin and yanks your leg further across her, taut against your clit.

“Please what?” Her voice is raked over with a carnal desire the likes of which you’ve never seen on her before, deep and airy. It only serves to pull the coil tighter. Your breath hitches as she pushes herself up on her hands and knees, hovering over you now, and she leans down, down until her face is level with yours, an intense wave of adoration flooding through you as she caresses one of your cheeks. She whispers, “I want you to beg, sweetheart,” and it’s all over, never a chance, the air all but torn from you, slick heat gone straight to your cunt.

Beg for her. Beg for Her. No matter how many times the thought bounces around within that empty little head of yours, you’re frozen in place both by lust and surprise. You’ve had your share of fun, of course, but the type that usually involves you calling the shots, taking charge. You thought you liked it that way.

You might’ve been wrong.

You’re only finally jostled from your thoughts when Larissa pulls back and draws a brow up at your silence. A shadow of concern passes over her face but you’re quick to pull her back in, nodding.

“Please fuck me,” you all but whisper, desperate to be filled, to be warmed, to be taken care of while the elements ravage the earth beyond these four walls. Larissa grins smugly at your feebleness, pressing her full weight upon you before she winds a hand down between your bodies, cupping your slickness in her palm. You’re dripping all over yourself, you know: a cool, nearly chafing wetness coating the inside of your thighs, so easily spread when Larissa dips her fingers in between your folds. She sinks a single digit into you just halfway, draws it out, sinks in again and curls it against that soft spot, yes, right there––

She easily adds another and hums at the way your body translates its own neediness, busying her mouth with the soft line of your jaw.

“You feel so good..” she murmurs as her fingers bury themselves into you knuckle-deep, so long and soft and better than you’d ever imagined (and you’d certainly spent time imagining it). Her hips press into yours from above, throwing weight behind her hand as she rolls against you, a slow and steady fucking that excites the fire already roaring within you. You gaze up at her in awe as her eyelids flutter in time with the movement of her hips, realizing she’s found just the right friction against the back of her own hand that each time she thrusts into you, a firm, rippling pressure rubs up against her own clit.

Your hands search frantically now until they’re planted at the slope of Larissa’s waist and you watch, carefully, as you pull her harder into each drive of her hips, rejoicing when she gasps and shudders into the pattern, breaking it for a fraction of a second before driving into you with a far greater desperation.

“Oohf, yes, th-that’s it, darling,” she pants out before capturing your lips in a sloppy, bruising kiss. Suddenly your own orgasm is incidental as you revel in the picture of her coming undone above you, chest flushed, cheeks pink, her hair falling further from its updo as she works her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Look at me, I want to see you,” you clamor with a novel burst of confidence, hands drifting up from her waist to cup her face in your palms. You want to look her in the eye when she cums. You want the memory of her sounds, her face, so deeply imbedded in your mind that it’ll keep you warm when you’ve returned to your own quarters. You want, you want, you want, and she whimpers - a heavenly sound - and obliges, gaze unfocused for a moment before she looks down at you, tongue darting out as she attempts to maintain some degree of focus.

“Right there, right there.. I can feel how close you are,” you huffily encourage, shifting so that both of your legs wrap tight around her and wrench her deeper, harder into you, smiling when her breath hitches at the change of pace and pressure against her sex. You watch her closely, in awe: Larissa’s brows are furrowed, her mouth fallen open and the pink of her tongue closely matched to that of her cheeks, the slight swell of her tits lurching which each thrust. The knowledge that each plunge into your cunt brings her closer is surreal––that she’s so obviously getting off on fucking you, that the frantic snap of her hips is building both of you up, simultaneously.

Her hips begin to stutter into you, airy whimpers falling from her as she teeters on the edge, fingers curling haphazardly in an attempt to continue fucking you through the oncoming rush of her orgasm. The mattress rocks and dips momentarily as Larissa gasps, sharp, and suddenly bows over you with the force of her climax, breath hot on your neck, forehead pressed into your temple, chest heaving against yours as she mindlessly ruts. Her fingers remain buried in your heat, pulsing slowly in time with her come-down. 

Larissa’s body shudders as you run your palm over her in light, gentle sweeps, one hand carefully traveling to cup the back of her neck.

“You’re alright.. I know.. ‘s good, hm?” You feel a weak nod at your side, Larissa eventually stilling atop you. The pad of her thumb draws slow, lazy circles around your clit as her breathing slows, nosing the crook between your shoulder and neck. 

“Christ,” she mumbles against your skin, and you chuckle as her lips draw a line from your ear to your chin.

“Yeah?” She hums and - slowly, determined - begins to wriggle down your body until her face is level with your cunt, glancing up at you with a blissed-out smirk before she presses an open-mouthed kiss to your slickness. The wet warmth of her tongue slides easily against you, dipping between your folds, lapping up the puddle that’s collected at your center, working in tandem with the pressure of her thumb at your clit, a feeling dumbly akin to religious devotion: a reverent prayer at your sex, holy flames licking up the walls of her bedroom, the weighted creases of her sheets stretched where she kneels before you.

A strong gust of wind wracks the shutters of her windows. They bang haphazardly against the glass, knocking in time with the surges of the storm.

Your fingers clench around the bed covers as Larissa rolls over your entrance once more, teasing, then pushing into your dripping hole with an embarrassing ease. She fucks you slow and as deep as she’s able, fingernails digging into the flesh of your hips. Not even the devil themself could stop you from rolling your pussy against her face in search of some greater friction, whining as the sounds of her tongue wading through your arousal mixes with the crackling of the fireplace, the moan of the storm outside.

“Ohfuckyes,” you pant as your legs spread further on their own accord, knees drawing up to alter the angle at which your pleasure floods through you. She moves with delicious ability, and you watch the stark blondeness of her hair bob with every fervent lap of her tongue, overwhelmed with the sudden realness of the moment: Larissa’s scent on the pillows, her lipstick smudged across your lips, her sweat on your skin. Her thumb abandons your clit, and a desperate cry waits at the threshold of your mouth until her finger is replaced with the pointed flicking of her tongue, quick and full and firm against you. The coil pulls tight within your core.

She murmurs something brusque but you’re too consumed with the sensation of her fingertips at your inner thigh to process, but she repeats herself as you release a heavy sigh, her fingers sinking deep into your cunt.

“That’s a good girl..." Your back arches at the same time Larissa takes your clit into her mouth, sucking and slurping as if to drink from that little bundle of nerves drawn straight to your core, as if to quench an otherworldly thirst. She pulls your orgasm from you quick and unforgivingly, never stumbling in her ministrations when your thighs begin to close in around her, or when your hands wind into her hair and pull, hard. She continues to devour you as if she doesn’t notice the snapping of that coil, the sounds that melt into the satiny sheets of her bed as you cry out for her–––the curling into yourself as your clit throbs towards unbearable tenderness.

“Fff––please, please, I’m––” Sapphire eyes bore into yours as her lips stretch into a devious smile, slowly but surely unlatching. A mercy, if you’ve ever seen one. You tremble in relief.

“You can’t take it?” she coos, superficial concern floating by your quivering sex. You don’t know whether to pull her closer or push her away when Larissa glances down towards your soaking cunt again––––

but the choice is made for you when she draws herself up and grabs hold of your chin, pushing her tongue into the waiting cavern of your mouth. The sure expanse of her thigh slides between your legs as she does so, eliciting a startled twitch as she brushes against your clit. She swallows your gasp.

“So sweet.” Larissa nips at your chin, presses her thigh against you more firmly and rubs her thumb back and forth along your cheek. Your hips buck of their own volition, acting solely on the most primal of instincts despite the sensitive twinge between your legs. There’s only Larissa’s softness, her warmth, her gentle affection circling your head, coloring the air around you. The world’s ending outside and it’s just her.

“Please kiss me,” you whisper, suddenly overcome with the need to absorb her, to touch her anywhere and everywhere all at once as if you could meld together somehow amidst the tousled satin.

She stills, hovering over you with a smile so soft you’re almost certain this has all been a very long, very desperate webbing of dreams until she obliges, brushing her lips against yours with the utmost of care.

“Are you alright?” Her voice is hushed, eyes searching.

“Better than alright,” you assure her, brushing a stray hair from in front of her face. “Kind of just wanted to be close to you…” You shrug sheepishly and turn your attention to the far wall, suddenly very interested in the twisting shadows of trees cast against the space there. The abrupt rush of vulnerability reddens your cheeks, lips pursing as the regret at such an intimate admission prickles up with equal swiftness. It’s quickly brushed away, however, when Larissa clicks her tongue and tilts your face towards her with a palm against your cheek, brow arched amusedly.

“Then be close,” she says, pressing a small kiss to the tip of your nose before she pulls you flush against her and buries her face into your neck. The fire’s dwindling, informed by the dying light of the room, the falling temperature beyond the bed, but neither of you notice as you wrap yourselves up in the arms of the other, tending to a warmth all your own.

[bellewintersroe]

Ron Speirs x ArmyNurse! OC

Margaret ‘Maggie’ Emerson, an army nurse attached to the 506th parachute infantry regiment, finds herself growing closer to her company’s captain, Ronald Speirs. With war drawing to an end, a side to the mystery that is Captain Speirs is revealed. Both Maggie and Ron have a difficult time resisting their attraction to one another.

This is the third part to this mini-series, here’s the link to part 2 where you can find the first piece also linked. This chapter is gonna be a cliche nurse has to do a physical exam of the soldier she has the hots for lmao- no warnings, just some swearing and mild sexual tension.

“More, switch lines with me.” Speirs head was tilted, looking towards the door ahead of him.

“Sorry, sir?” More frowned. Speirs held out a pack of cigarettes and More gladly accepted, swapping places with him in the line with no further questions asked. The Captain smirked to himself proudly as the door opened, revealing Sergeant Alley walking out with Maggie swiftly behind.

“Thanks, Mag’s.” Alley teased causing some of the men to jeer and tease. Maggie rolled her eyes, giving Alley a playful kick to the back of his leg before calling out a polite, “next.”

Ron stepped forwards and her lips immediately tugged up in a smile she couldn’t quite bite back. “Captain Speirs, sir, how are you?” The door closed behind them both. From the outside, Luz watched on, mouth hanging open in surprise.

“What the fuck?” He muttered to himself, stunned at the exchange. “Hey, Babe, you see that? Speirs swapping lines with More to get into Maggie’s?” George nudged at the man beside him.

“Oh yeah? Didnt think we’d see the day Captain Speirs was chasin’ a broad…” Babe snickered.

On the inside, Maggie double checked the door was shut before heading towards the check board to write down Speirs’ name and tick him off the checklist. She’s been doing physical exams all morning, blood tests, checking their skin, weight, height. Maggie thought she was growing bored until Captain Speirs walked in.

“Would you take your shirt off for me, real quick?” She muttered, without thinking too much. Ron sat in the chair, removing his tie and moving his hands to unbutton the shirt. “I gotta just get a few measurements from you before I do the blood test and X-ray, that alright?” Maggie turned around, digging her pen a little too hard into the paper when she saw him unbuttoning his shirt.

“Yeah.” He casually nodded, as she pursed her lips, averting her eyes, before remembering she had to take his blood pressure. Spinning around again she retreated the device, stethoscope also around her neck. Her face was flustered and she dared to look up to him when his shirt was completely discarded. Maggie had been around shirtless men all day, it didn’t discompose her until now.

Ron’s gazed followed her tensely, swallowing and tensing his jaw when she took a seat in front of him. Her hair was longer than Ron realised, blonder than the other nurses, curls that weren’t pinned back hanging loosely. He didn’t even care that she was probably breaking every uniform rule, he was too enthralled by her.

“I’ll take your blood pressure first, sir.” He held out an arm as she shuffled a little closer, wrapping the material around his bicep. His muscles were protruding, as were his veins. If Maggie felt like melting just from the sight of his arm then she was curious as to how she reacted from seeing the rest of his seemingly, very toned, body.

“Get the boring stuff out of the way.” She giggled, glancing up to him. “Taking bloods fun?!” Her head snapped up again, pausing her actions. “It is when they faint.” Shrugging, she continued wrapping the strap around his arm before pumping to tighten the machine and read his blood pressure.

“Who fainted?” He questioned, a slight smirk covering his face. “You wanna know?!” Her smile turned into a devious grin as his teeth dug into his bottom lip, nodding. “Well it’s confidential.” She borderline teased, Speirs felt his stomach tighten as he unconsciously leant a bit closer. Maggie noticed and stole another glance over his face. He was even more handsome close up…

“Secrets safe with me.” He played along, eyelids heavy as they met hers. For a second her lips were parted and straight, captivated in the way he was looking at her, the way he spoke- and that was totally unprofessional. Maggie sat up straighter before her lips stretched into a smile again, shaking off the urge to lean closer into him. Ron wondered if all her exams were like this, or if it was just for him.

“I’ll let you guess, sir.” Ron cleared his throat, pursing his lips and looking around to distract himself elsewhere. Maggie scribbled down his blood pressure, “blood pressures good.” She then commented as he quickly snapped back to her, remembering what she’d said before.

“Liebgott. Acts tough but screams at the sight of needles.” He quickly commented, resulting in her laughing a little harder now. “No not Liebgott, stand up for me, Ron.” The name slipped as he smiled to himself. Maggie pulled the stethoscope into her ears and stepped around him so she was directly ahead of him. God, he was muscular. Trim from the physical demand of war, but he was undeniably attractive. Maggie’s tongue pushed to the inside of her cheek, tilting her chin up to look up to him before she pressed the devise up to the left of his chest.

“Sorry it’s cold.” She whispered as Ron felt his breath hitch, heart rate immediately speeding. “Talbert then.”

“Didnt faint, but he nearly threw up.” Maggie muttered, listening to his heart. Ron chuckled as they shared a smile. “Your hearts going so fast.” It fell out of her mouth as he took a deep breath. “I wonder why?” His eyes gazed over her, causing her own pulse to accelerate. The tension was too much, they were so both openly showing their attraction to one another, Maggie thought she might faint if she swooned any harder.

“Take a deep breath for me, sir.” She then instructed, listening carefully. Everything sounded perfect as she listened once on his chest and again on his back- that was also incredibly muscular.

She stood on a literal stool chair in order to reach and measure his height perfectly, Ron’s head tilted up in amusement before she nudged his jaw so he was looking straight. “I’ve been doing this all day.” She reminded, scribbling some more notes down, taking his weight and then doing an x-Ray, hands adjusting his arms in the right position.

“What time do you get off later?” Ron questioned, whilst he was stood in the machine. “You have to ask me that now when I need you to be still?” She gazed up to him. “Would you rather me ask when I’m taking your blood?”

“Preferably not, no.” She smiled to herself, heading over and pushing his arms a little further back so she could get a better view of everything to send to the surgeons to check everything was okay.

“Keep your back straight, alright?” Her warm hands touched slightly the mid of his back nudging him a little more upright. “Alright.” Ron spared her another glance.

“Hold still a second.” A moment later the X-ray was taken. “4.” She then answered, Ron looked at her in a little confusion.

“You can take a seat again- and 4. You asked me what time I get off at?” Again, she felt a little shy, fumbling for the tourniquet and slowly dragging over the tray with everything laid out on. Ron smiled, feeling the words ready to spill off his lips. He knew he shouldn’t, but he so desperately wanted to completely break professionalism and ask her out. He saw how happy all those other men looked to be in her line, he could bet they’d try anything on with her now the war in Europe was over.

“Oh yeah.” Ron muttered to himself as she tightened it over his bicep. “Clench your fist for me.” She muttered, wondering what the question was for. His veins were already popping, she slapped on his skin slightly before returning to get a clear pair of gloves.

It was silent for a minute or so. Not awkward, just a little tense, the unspoken words making the two of them nervous. “Sharp scratch, you okay with needles?” She muttered. Ron gulped, tense at her presence, not the needle. “Okay.” Her whispered tone made him shiver as he watched her prick the inside of his vein, never being one to bother about injections or needles. Ron inhaled, looking up and her head snapped up, making sure he was okay.

“You okay?”

“Go out with me later.” The words on his lips were finally spoken, he blinked back to her, seeing her breath catch in her throat before she turned back to the vial and needle with a slight amusement.

“You’re asking me whilst I’m taking your blood?” She watched it fill up, looking like a freak as she smiled to herself uncontrollably. “Yeah.” His voice cracked, raspy from overuse.

“Okay.” She nodded, not really having to think twice about it. Ron had to tense his jaw to avoid smiling too much. “Great, I’ll pick you up at 8?”

“Where are we going?” She removed the needle gently, dealing with that before disposing of everything she didn’t need and scribbling down everything she needed to, trying her hardest to focus on everything but the fact Captain Speirs had just asked her out.

“There’s a bar in town- don’t ask me to pronounce it.” Now she looked back to him, a smile reaching her eyes and nodding. “8 is good, I’ll see you then.”

“Good.” He gently spoke, looking back to her with a smile. Maggie hadn’t seen Speirs smile this much before. “You can put your shirt back on now, Ron.”

“Oh, right.” God, Ron had Maggie smiling like a lovesick teenager, even when he’d left and the next person, Malarkey had come in, Maggie was grinning like a goddamn child.

“Captain Speirs got you smilin’ like that?!”

[leslie057]

penbleed;

pairings: jonathan/nancy

rating: light teen (swearing + mild sex references)

word count: 2.4k (chapter 1)

read on ao3

@jancyweeks day 1: history - her diary as a personal history + a bonus history test incident

𝒩𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇 16, 1984

—

𝑀𝓎 𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒾𝓈 𝒽𝑜𝓌. Actually, how do you forget an exam? Actually. How did I forget? And it’s not even that I forgot, it’s that I never knew. I am still so mad but not as mad as I was. Genuinely have no clue why we were not given verbal reminders for that history test. That stupid little secret of a test, that fucking sub rosa fucking social experiment of a thing to see who looks at her minuscule writing under the date on the board every day! Just tell us. Need it. Out loud. This is crazy arrogant and borderline disgusting of me to say, but she doesn't have a better student than me and I deserved better. It was like a setup. Of course I was taking notes, of course I was listening, of course a lot of it was prior knowledge. It’s the history of America and I’m not an idiot. I just thought a test would be coming up after the break, not before.

I mean it’s all been worked out now, though. 

But it makes me upset, because where was my head? No, I know where it was, my head was here with me. I was simply using it for its escape function. Wild how my ears can be turned on, and my pen will be going and going and going in perfect time with the lesson, but mentally I’m reliving whatever I want to relive. Or don’t want to relive. I’ve been like this since last year. Stuck inside my skull and cannot climb out. Don’t wanna climb out because sometimes I need to be there, it’s nice in there. Sometimes not nice. I brought this up to Jonathan, he said yes he does understand. Shocker. The difference is he’s been in his head for the last sixteen years, and he doesn’t continually think all the awful things that I think. He’s good and decent and he’s sweet and he’s built a strange, adorable habitat up there for song lyrics and checklists and worries. He does so much in one day. I don’t love his work schedule. Working on Friday nights, God. Then at home he does, like, budgeting and reads their bills and shit? I wouldn’t have time to steep in hate for Mrs. Kincannon, either. (He doesn’t hate her. That’s me.) Not that he’s dealing with his trauma or whatever, our trauma, I don’t know, he isn’t. Still, because his many responsibilities burn up the majority of his mental energy, he doesn’t seem to follow the spirals I follow. At least not when the sun's out. He’s a dramatic pessimist, my dramatic pessimist, oh that was fun to write, but I would assume his internal voice has more of a filter mechanism than mine. Could be a self-preservation thing. 

Who knows. But, yeah, neurogymnastics. Neurogymnastics to get me through my day. Each week is a series of extreme highs and extreme lows, lows that I just administer my fantasies to until something new happens. It’s good in the moment. Later I realize that I’ve missed things, spaced out, fell short, and I get all guilty. I feel hypocritical. I’ve fought for my life, why am I not training myself to live it well again. I’m rushing through things because they’re hard. I want to be successful, and this is not the path to success. The pressure is off me and yet all over me. Maybe I shouldn’t care about school, knowing what I know about the flimsiness of this dimension’s edges. Sounds clinically insane. Not ever going to be sure what to do with the fact that I’ve seen a parallel plane, that I was really there. I wish I didn’t care about school. I do care less about it than I did freshman and sophomore year. My grades are forever important to me, but there’s currently a big disconnect between my habits and my academic goals. When I’m at school, I fantasize about it being over. When I’ve set aside time to work, I can’t get through it and I go to my boyfriend. Maybe I am a bad student. Right now. I am. Hard to care about history since I’ve got a lot I would rather focus on. So, right, there are a lot of coercive acts I could be learning about if my teacher calmed down and gave me free time to coerce him. Sorry. 

I cannot stop thinking about what I was able to 

How he knew about the test is beyond me. He’s missed more days, he’s had more distractions, he’s more susceptible to distractions, and to top everything off he’s on possession watch. You know, just making those frequent check-ins with Will. I don’t know what that would look like. I guess you just ask him how he’s feeling, try to gauge the honesty. I would never ever say this but it seems likely to me that Will is still being…communicated with. Accessed. Scary sounds in his ears or something. Sensations. It’s not like he’d say anything! He’s like this meek little mouse, he could actively be experiencing organ rupture and wouldn’t make a sound. This is terrible, but being at their house does scare me every now and then. In a ticking time bomb sort of way. Is their family not kind of cursed? Then I get kissed and forget where I am anyway, so nothing matters. No complaints overall, it is a very nice place for a slumber party. 

My reaction last night was the most embarrassing. How I went from zero to a hundred that fast, how we went from squeaky bed springs and my proposed hickey competition (hate that this is in writing now, but context needed—also I was in a competitive mood yesterday) (he was not) to me whining and crying and essentially hyperventilating because I didn’t understand why he would mention a test when we didn’t have a test. I hate my emotions being played with and all of that bullshit. For some reason I’ve always been on the receiving end of that haven’t I? With boys in our class. Middle school, junior high, that kind of timeframe. At one point I could have convinced myself I was being flirted with. It’s a no, because “all statements.” All pines are conifers, but not all conifers are pines. So all interested boys will tease, but not all the boys that tease are interested. They really were just that eager to let me know my body wasn’t up to par for our age bracket. Pal, are we not eleven and twelve. I cannot be Catwoman for you.

I’m told I’m pretty now, so I’ll count it as a win. 

Anyway, Jonathan was not playing with my emotions, and we did have a test. We did. When my panic set in, it was bad. The pressure was building up in my chest, I thought I was in danger of dry drowning. My GPA is literally the only thing I ever feel in control of. In my arms were two options, have an absolutely miserable fucking Thursday night or risk baby’s first F on her transcript. But then he just looked at me, calm as ever, and said, “Why can’t you ask for an extension? I want you to ask her for an extension, okay?” Which I should have come up with on my own. I don’t know why, but hearing him say that was like. Insane. Made everything feel lighter, light as a feather. He doesn’t do this for himself, but for me—he zooms out, he figures out a way to make things less daunting. He can be so positive when it's a problem of mine on the table instead of his, and I'm like who are you, I love you. I usually have no problem cheating systems, swinging things in a way that's better for me, but requesting an extension? My pride lies in academics, I'm aware of that, I don’t often ask for help there. Want to accomplish things without accommodations being made for me. Meanwhile, school stuff is some of the only stuff Jonathan is willing to seek out help with. He has to. He can't afford to not get help. Not like he can spend an entire evening on one little section of an assignment when he needs to be clocked in at work for five hours. In conclusion, he talks to our instructors more than our peers. I have to respect a teacher's pet.

So, I took his advice. However tricky extensions may be. Kincannon is also tricky. Her iron will and everything. You’re not gonna get one if you always ask. You’re not gonna get one if you haven’t already established yourself as a trustworthy kid. You’re not gonna get one for being an athlete. I wasn’t convinced of the plan at first since she dress coded my mid-thigh skirt last week and had to tell me, on a few occasions, to stop chatting with/distracting my boyfriend. Him being in the picture was so in my favor, though, because he seriously might be her favorite. Personally I wanna say it’s gross; it makes her feel good about herself to cosset sensitive, troubled teens that she wouldn’t give a shit about otherwise. Like, you’re not his mommy, but I’m way off topic. 

We got up incredibly early this morning. We made her a tiny consolation coffee with cream and cinnamon, pulled up at 6:25 I want to say it was? And the conversation was ace. He had messed up my hair a little to hint at a sleepless night, coached me on how to look pitiful when we were in the car. I really hope I didn’t mishear him mumble something about puppy eyes. He was very tired. I stayed as honest as possible, that’s what he wanted from me. I told her I was having a rough time, that grief keeps getting in my way of things. I talked to her about my selective hearing issue. I said I’m an oral learner, I needed verbal reminders, and I said school means so much to me. Hesitantly I pointed out that Jonathan and I are still getting used to our new relationship, and maybe if our assigned seats were adjacent I wouldn't have to get up to talk to him. She was slightly passive-aggressive, but she was understanding. Then I found out I would be testing Monday. New test, just for me. There was something so ridiculous and fun about sitting in class this morning, reading while everyone else suffered. After, I couldn’t stop apologizing to Jonathan for freaking out. He said I didn’t freak out, I reacted, and he suggested I go easier on myself. That distinction felt huge, really huge. 

Right now, I'm desperate to preserve that feeling of lightness, but I’m mad at myself and furious in general. In hindsight I should have savored being comforted a little more, but I was busy having half a meltdown. I’m sure I’ll get to hear one of those soft pep talks the next time something doesn’t go my way. I have so much studying to do, especially since my Special Nancy Test is all writing. I’ve got it, though. I’m fine. Angry but also happy and fine. This will never happen again. I won’t let it happen again.

—

���Uh oh,” Jonathan suddenly murmurs to himself on her bed. 

She swivels at her small desk, not fully ready to turn her attention away from her entry. “Hmm?”

“Sorry, no, you can keep writing.” 

“But why uh oh?”

There's his gentle huff, his eyes flicking upward in annoyance. He holds a necklace she'd tasked him with untangling using tweezers. Its old, delicate chain was in no less than six billion knots. Somehow he’s the only one in the world who has the patience for this. She sure as hell doesn't have the patience for it. "I'm scared I'm about to break it." 

“Break it? Please don’t Jonathan,” she begs on impulse.

“It’s just really far gone. I’m trying.”

And he is. He’s been sitting quietly for as long as she’s been writing. So—long time. She sort of forgot about him over there. “Sorry, I know, I know you are," she says.

He’s silent. 

“You’ve been cleaning up a lot of my messes lately, huh?”

She flips over her journal, nudges it away from the table’s edge, and approaches him. From her desk she couldn’t see the glow of afternoon sunlight streaming onto her quilt. Very pretty. Her personal jewelry surgeon sits there in the middle, equally pretty, possibly feeling neglected. He’s gone the full nine yards here. Pushed up his sweater sleeves, swiped her reading glasses, set out a few safety pins and needles as his supplementary tools. He looks sleepy, the brown of his eyes lighter in the path of the sun. 

Her arms are behind her back until they’re not, and she crawls on top of him. He absently places the necklace on her flattest throw pillow. 

“I said you’re fixing a lot of my messes.”

“I mean…not really.” He’s blushing already, hands awkwardly grasping for purchase at her hips so that he won't get pressed back too hard into the poles of her bed frame's headboard. “If I am, I don’t mind.”

Her lips cushion against this little spot on his jaw that’s so sensitive it kills him, sucking carefully. The action might have the same effect on her that it does him; her heart jumps, swings wide, threatens to capsize in the wet of her chest. It’s that familiar adrenaline response, the uncontrollable energy spike she always gets alongside the realization of oh, we’re touching! She sighs into his skin, and he shudders, a pathetic sound of bliss escaping his throat.

“Okay, well don't start drooling,” she quips. Kisses his pulse point, spittily.

He mumbles something unintelligible, so she keeps on keeping on, shifting her weight back and forth, trying to make the most of the time they have and get some good play in while she can. She’ll have to kick him out soon. She’ll have to study in complete isolation. She dips back, and he follows, she leans forward, and he pulls her closer. “Said I need an extension,” he manages, repeating what she didn’t catch.

“What?”

“If you’re gonna do all this, I need an extension on my necklace project.”

Well, that is definitely going in the diary. 

[pulisicsgirl]

flustered assessments - christian pulisic

summary: Y/N is a nursing student struggling to study for an assignment and Christian offers to help out by letting her do an assessment on him; super fluffy, established relationship

pairing: Christian Pulisic x nursing student!reader

word count: 2.4k

notes: this is the first fic that I'm posting on here!!! :) this fic is entirely self-indulgent and I wrote it during finals week last semester, so it might be super niche, but I still thought it was cute so and figured I would share it. please tell me what you think!

You held your head in your hands as you hunched over the desk, all your work laid out before you. Your mind seemed to spin as you tried to take in and retain all of the information written in your notebook and printed on the sheets of paper before you. You were preparing to head into final exam week as a junior-year nursing student, and you were due to perform a graded head-to-toe assessment the following morning. Nerves wracked your body as you tried to go through the checklist you had to complete (from memory). You wiggled your fingers as you read through your notes, trying to dispel some of the anxiety you were feeling.

You felt a light pressure on your back and a kiss was placed on your neck, just below your ear, as Christian leaned his body over you and wrapped his arms around your torso.

He had come over earlier that night so the two of you could try to spend some of his very limited time off together, but when he realized how much work you had piling up before exams and how stressed you were about studying, he immediately shifted gears, encouraging you to do whatever work you needed to and doing his best not to distract you. It meant a lot to you that he recognized how important your studies were to you, and that he didn’t try to convince you to spend time with him instead. You had wanted nothing more than to spend the evening wrapped in his arms under a blanket on the couch, watching a movie until you drifted into a peaceful sleep—honestly. But with so many tests looming in your near future, you knew you wouldn’t be able to relax and focus on spending time with him—and he realized that too. So for the last few hours, he has wandered in periodically, ensuring that you had snacks and took breaks every so often. He talked you down from your anxious thoughts, reassuring you that you were capable of the things that you had set out to do.

“Hey, baby. Just checking in,” he said, almost at a whisper. “How are things going?”

You sighed softly, subtly leaning back into his chest and groaning in frustration. “I feel so overwhelmed,” you whined, rubbing the palms of your hands in your eyes. “I feel like I’m just reading the same information over and over again and not retaining anything.” Christian stood up straight, using his fingers to gently massage your shoulders as you tilted your head back to look at him. His faced held a sympathetic look as he stared back down at you.

He thought for a moment. “What are you working on right now?”

“I’m trying to prepare for the head-to-toe assessment I have to do in the morning,” you gestured to the equipment you had laid out on the desk. Your stethoscope, blood pressure cuff, and pen light, among other tools, lay unused on the surface.

“Would it help if you actually went through the assessment instead of just reading about it?” he asked softly.

You pondered his words for a brief moment. “Yeah, actually,” you looked back up at him. “It might.”

A grin broke out on his face, accentuating the soft dimples in his cheeks. “You could do it on me!” he replied with excitement. He had always loved seeing you practice any of your nursing skills. He often made remarks about how you were his “smartie pants” that was going to save lives one day, and it warmed your heart each time. Any time he would feel an ache or pain, he would come to you to ask what was wrong, and whether you had the answer or not, you knew that he secretly just loved when you would dote on him and try to take care of him.

“Really? Are you sure?” you asked. He just nodded, bouncing lightly on his toes in excitement.

“Where do you want me?” he asked with a grin. You told him to go sit on the bed while you grabbed your tools and a couple sheets of paper. You placed them on the bedside table and tried to mentally prepare yourself to do the assessment.

“Okay, so…” you looked up at Christian’s face which only held a small, eager, and supportive smile. He was sitting up at the top of the bed with his back against the headboard. In an instant, you felt a wave of anxiety as you thought about how unprepared you felt for this assignment. You pulled on the fingers of your right hand, a habit that you often did when you were nervous.

Christian picked up on this, leaning forward to grab your hands with his own. “Hey, baby. Relax,” he spoke softly, as though you were a small, scared woodland animal that he was doing his best not to spook. He gently pulled you forward, uttering a soft, “c’mere” as he pulled you to sit on his lap, with your legs on the outside of his so you were straddling him. He placed both of his hands on your cheeks, looking intently into your eyes. “It’s just me and you here. You can do this. And you can run through it as many times as you need to tonight. I’ll be right here.” His thumb stroked your cheek gently. “Okay?” You felt butterflies in your stomach at his words as you nodded and glanced down. Even after as long as you had been together, he never failed to get you flustered.

You took a deep breath, trying to center yourself and focus on his encouragement, and he moved his hands from your face, settling them on your hips. You decided to just stay where you were to do the assessment—it wasn’t the most conventional way to assess a patient by any means, but you felt better when you were close to him. You leaned over to the bedside table, grabbing your notebook and a pen so you could jot down notes as you went.

“Okay,” you paused, collecting yourself. “Hi, my name is Y/N, and I’m going to be your nurse today.” You glanced up to Christian’s face, feeling almost giddy at the amused look on it. “I need to do a head-to-toe assessment on you, is that okay?” You mentally went through the elements of the introduction that you needed to fulfill, checking each one off in your head as you went.

Christian replied with a “yes, ma’am,” and a short nod.

“Okay, can I get your name and date of birth?”

“Christian Pulisic. September 18, 1998.” You had already begun writing down the answer before he started speaking, already sure of his answer.

“Do you know what day of the week it is?”

“It’s a beautiful Thursday evening.”

You giggled at his response, feeling a little more anxiety flutter away. “Do you know where you are?”

“Your apartment?” he questioned, not exactly sure how he was supposed to answer. You just nodded to show that he was fine.

“Alright, and do you know why you’re here?”

“To help my beautiful, genius girlfriend study for her exams so that she can ace this tomorrow and go on to become the most brilliant and talented nurse this world has ever seen.” You felt the heat rush into your cheeks at his response. You looked up to his face and found an earnest honesty in his eyes as he grinned at you. You shook your head with a laugh, turning back to your notes.

“Are you in any pain?”

“No.”

You began taking his vital signs, pretending to take his temperature and oxygen saturation since you didn’t have the equipment to do those. You took his blood pressure and counted his pulse and respirations, noting them on your paper.

“Everything normal?” he asks.

“For the most part,” you smiled. “Your heart rate is kind of fast, but I usually don’t take my patient’s pulse while I’m sitting in their lap, so that could have something to do with it.” He smiled sheepishly, dropping his chin to his chest as he laughed at himself. “And your blood pressure is just a hair high, but with as active as you are and how well you eat, I wouldn’t worry about it. It probably just has to do with the heart rate thing, too.”

You continued assessing him to the best of your ability, asking him questions about how he had been feeling and checking his eye movement with your pen light. Christian continued trying to make you laugh as he followed all of your directions. When you asked him to puff out his cheeks to test one of the cranial nerves, he crossed his eyes, acting as goofy as he could.

You began asking him questions related to his heart, asking if he had experienced any chest pains or dizziness. You put your stethoscope in your ears and, as you did so, Christian leaned forward off of the headboard, pulling his shirt over his head quickly, and discarding it on the floor. You felt the heat flooding your face once again as you studied his bare abdomen.

“Like what you see, Nurse Y/N?” he wiggled his eyebrows as he spoke.

You rolled your eyes, laughing anyway. “Just shut up and lean back,” you giggled, pushing his chest. You placed the stethoscope to his skin, listening to the soft lub-dub, lub-dub of his heartbeat, a soft smile passing over your face. It was one of your favorite sounds—his heartbeat. It was a comforting sound, knowing he was alive and well. You had fallen asleep many times, head pressed to his chest as the steady rhythm lulled you to sleep.

You jotted down some more notes as you took the stethoscope out of your ears, turning back to look at him. “Do you have any history of smoking?” you asked with a smile, as you already knew the answer.

“No,” he smiled.

“Alright, have you experienced any coughing recently? Any difficulty or pain with breathing? Any shortness of breath?”

“Well… a little bit,” he pondered, tapping his finger to his chin. You quirked your head to the side, raising an eyebrow at him in question. Why hadn’t he mentioned to you that he was having trouble breathing recently? A thousand possibilities ran through your head in an instant.

“Well, you know… because you took my breath away,” he raised his eyebrows as if to say, ‘that one was pretty good, huh?’.

 You just grabbed your notebook, writing in it once more. “Patient… thinks… he’s smooth,” you spoke slowly as if you were writing the words in your notes.

“Heyyyy,” he groaned and both of you laughed.

You continued working through the list of what you needed to do, checking off each item, one by one. As you were working through the neuro section, Christian moved his hands from your hips, down to settle on your thighs, where he rubbed the pads of his thumbs over the exposed skin just below the hem of your shorts.

“Have you, um… h-have,” your breath caught in your throat, suddenly feeling flustered at the soft touch of his fingers. You swallowed hard, attempting to pull yourself together and promptly failing. You dropped your hands into your lap in defeat, letting out a heavy sigh. “You have to stop doing that.”

“Doing what?” He wore a sly grin on his face.

“You know what you’re doing,” you groaned.

He laughed at your desperation. “Come on, if you can do it in these circumstances, you can do it in any setting,” he retorted, raising his eyebrows at you. As much as you may not like it, he was probably right.

You sighed again, stretching out your back and shaking your head to try to refocus yourself.

Soon enough, you had finished your checklist, looking through your notes to ensure you hadn’t forgotten anything.

“Alright, I think that’s everything,” you smiled at him. “I diagnose you as… alive.”

“Oh, good. I was worried,” he said in an amused tone, squeezing your thigh. “Alright,” he took the checklist from your hands. “Run me through everything you would do for an assessment, and I’ll check you.”

You took a deep breath, pulling at your fingers again. One of his hand resumed it’s position on your thigh. “Okay I start by introducing myself, I get two patient identifiers and assess for alertness and orientation. Then I’ll take temperature, pulses, respirations…”

You continued listing everything you could remember, running through the assessment in order in your head.

When you reached the end, Christian beamed at you, setting the sheet of paper on the bed beside you. “You aced it. Every last thing on that list—you got it.”

“Really?”

“Every. Last. One.” He leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’m so proud of you.” Your heart fluttered in your chest as you closed your eyes, leaning your head onto his shoulder. He ran his fingers gently over your back, tracing patterns into your spine. “You’ve been studying for hours now, and you’ve got this material down. Do you feel comfortable calling it a night? We can run through it again a couple times in the morning before you actually head in to do it.”

You smiled to yourself at his supportive and caring words. You nodded, head still on his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around your torso, scooting down the bed so that he could lay down, pulling you to lay on his chest. You instantly melted into him, feeling the ache in your shoulders and back as you finally relaxed.

In a matter of minutes, you felt your eyelids begin to droop as Christian continued rubbing your back slowly.

“Thank you for helping me study,” you spoke slowly, sleep already threatening to take you. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to spend much time together tonight.”

“It’s okay, baby. Next week, after you crush your finals, I’ll take you out and we can spend all the time in the world together then.”

That simple statement made you smile, giving you something to look forward to after a long week of exams.

And sure enough, Christian was right. After a night of peaceful rest in his arms, the two of you ran through the material a couple more times the next morning, and then, after you had donned your scrubs (earning several cheeky remarks from Christian about how hot you looked in them) you headed into the lab to do the assessment with your instructor and passed it with flying colors.

[amberlynnmurdock]

The Good In You (Chapter 2)

Pairing: Benjamin Poindexter x Reader

Chapter Summary: Dex grows fond of the nurse down the hall, so much so that if someone says something disrespectful about her, he won't take it so well.

Genres/Warnings: men objectifying women, toxic masculinity, angst, light fluff if you squint your eyes

Words: 5k exactly!

Tags: @danzer8705 @reblog-reblog666 @pcrushinnerd

Ao3 Link

Strange weather misted over the building of the Bureau, giving it an ominous look. She walked up the steps to the building and uttered “good morning” to whoever she walked past. She breathed a sigh of relief once she was in the elevator surrounded by other FBI staff members. The elevator dinged and lifted them to their floor. 

The office was slowly filling up with agents and staff who were treading in from the weekend. She made her way to the exam room and relaxed once she shut the door. Opening the locker that was tucked in the corner of the room, she brushed her hair and fixed what was messed up from the rain. It didn’t matter though—she’d have to put it up in a clip anyway. 

Working for the FBI was much more peaceful than working at the hospital. She enjoyed the privacy she had in her room and she liked the relationships she’d built with the agents here. She sat at her desk and went through her morning checklist before realizing thirty minutes had passed and she hadn’t had a cup of coffee yet. 

The break room was a little farther down the hall on the left. On her way down, she brushed passed other agents and found the door to Hattley’s office open, inviting her to say hello. 

“Morning, Tammy,” she greeted in the door frame. Hattley already had multiple files open on her desk. She was highlighting and tabbing different documents, standing over them. Her red hair was done in a low bun. “Already planning out the week for the agents?” She asked. 

Hattley laughed and shook her head. “Sure am, __. How was your weekend?”

“Relaxing, but ended too quickly. You?”

“Had my daughter’s cheerleading competition Saturday and then spent all of Sunday preparing for today,” Hattley said, not making eye contact with her. 

“You’ll need me on-call this whole week with the amount of files you’ve got there?” She asked Hattley. 

“Definitely,” finally, Hattley makes eye contact with her and smiles. “Just in case anything goes badly.”

“Of course,” she shrugged light-heartedly. Hattley returned to her work and she exited the room, continuing her way to the break room.

When she made a turn inside, she was pleasantly surprised to see Special Agent Poindexter scooping grounds of Bustelo into a new filter. Dex’s back was facing her, so she gently cleared her throat to make her presence known to him. 

“Morning, Dex,” she greeted quietly as she snuck up beside him at the counter. Dex paused his movements and turned to look at her. When he saw it was her, a smile slowly spread on his face. She was standing so close to him that she could see the depth of his hazel eyes when he looked at her. Of all the people in the office it could be, he was happy it was her this early in the morning. Dex was in a dark suit with a white button-down shirt. He looked undeniably handsome. He was out of uniform—this meant today was a training day for new agents.

“Good morning,” he greeted, continuing to scoop coffee. “Caught up on sleep this weekend like you wanted to?” She was mesmerized by the way his hands gently scooped the grounds of coffee and flicked it in the filter. Those same hands handled weapons she couldn’t imagine holding herself. 

She laughed, though, pleasantly surprised that he remembered their conversation from Friday night. 

“I did,” she answered with a nod, “but it’s never enough. You?"

“Same,” Dex nodded, putting one last scoop of coffee in the new filter. He placed the holder in the machine and switched the knob to turn on. The machine hummed and began to brew. Dex turned around and leaned his back on the counter. When he did this, she caught a whiff of his cologne—a musky, woodsy scent. She tried not to react to how good he smelt.

“It takes a little bit to brew if you don’t want to stay,” Dex said, his voice bringing her out of her thoughts. “I’ll bring you a cup to your office. How do you take it?” Dex offered. She shook her head—she didn’t mind making small talk with him and waiting for it to brew. 

“I can stay,” she smiled. “But you can still fix my coffee. I like it with a dash of milk.”

“You got it,” he smiled back. “You have a busy day today?”

“Not really,” she said. “I’ll be cleaning and filing the new agents we have in our system. Speaking of, are you training them today?” 

Dex cracked his neck and sighed. “Yeah, new agents. All day.”

“Be nice to them,” she smiled teasingly. “I bet they’re all scared.”

“If they’re scared of training then they probably shouldn’t have applied to be in the FBI,” Dex retorts with a smirk. “Besides, today’s easy. All presentations. Boring, but easy.”

“Well, I hope today goes quickly for us both,” she smiled, gently knocking her shoulder on his. Dex smiled and looked down, holding his left wrist with his right hand. 

Just as he’s about to say something else to her, another agent enters the room, and Dex tenses immediately. He wasn't fond of the agent who came in, ruining his moment with her. 

Her attention is drawn to Agent Beckett, who stands at six feet tall with dark brown hair, a five o’clock shadow, and a bright smile. It was hard not to be drawn to someone like him when he entered a room—he was handsome. Handsome, but slightly arrogant. Slightly intimidating. Not at all like the sweet agent who stood beside her, and offered to fix her a cup of coffee. 

“Morning, Poindexter,” Beckett greets loudly. “Glad to see you’re out of the cave this morning,” he bellowed. She jumped at the loudness in his voice and offered a small smile, trying to avoid eye contact. She stepped out of his way—away from Dex. 

“Morning,” Dex replied with a straight face. 

“Hey, __,” he called her name, an unavoidable greeting. “Is this guy bothering you?” He smirked, giving Dex a taunting wink. Dex’s jaw clenched and he kept his hands firmly in front of him, eyes forward. 

“No,” she laughed uncomfortably, feeling her heart beating fast. She glanced at Dex, who kept his stare straight ahead of him. 

“I’m kidding, sweetheart,” Beckett says, jimmying his way between her and Dex. “Ah, coffee’s almost done. Poindexter, why don’t you fix us both a cup ahead of this stupid training we have?”

Dex turns carefully, jaw clenched and silent. The coffee machine beeps and Dex grabs two cups from the cabinet. He pours coffee into each cup and grabs the carton of milk from the fridge, giving the perfect splash in the first cup before putting the milk back. He walks around Agent Beckett, careful not to bump into him, and gives her the cup of coffee. She takes it from his hands, feeling her fingers brush against Dex’s. Dex holds her eye contact for a few seconds and squints his eyes at her as a way to say here you go. 

“I’ll see you in there, Beckett,” Dex says before leaving the kitchen. Beckett stands there confused, empty-handed. He grabs a styrofoam cup and pours coffee into it. 

“Such a weird dude,” Beckett says under his breath. 

“What makes him weird?” She questioned him, annoyed with his attitude. 

“He only talks to three people here and is just a dick,” Beckett said. She flinched at his tone and shook her head, debating whether to say her next words or not. 

“Just because he takes his job seriously and keeps to himself doesn’t make him weird. Maybe you should learn something from him, Beckett,” she replies with a terse tone. Beckett raises an eyebrow and looks at her suspiciously. He sips his coffee, holding his stare on her. She leaves the room quickly, ignoring the increase in her heartbeat. She much preferred how she felt when Dex was in the room. 

Down the hall, she can see Dex making his way to the elevator, clipboard in one hand, coffee in the other. The elevator doors close before she can offer Dex a thank you. The cup he made was perfect. 

***

Dex hated socializing but he hated even more to be socializing against his will out of peer pressure with the other FBI agents. 

It was Thursday night. No one had tasks on Friday until noon and Agent Garcia had rounded everyone in the SWAT unit to get drinks at a local bar near the Bureau. Dex ignored the invite naturally—those things, such as invites, didn’t apply to him. But when Ray got off the phone with his wife (Sammy was on a camping trip meaning Ray was essentially free) Dex knew there was no hope in going home like he wanted to. 

So there he was, sitting in the corner of a dingy bar; cold beer in one hand, the other sitting on his thigh in anticipation. Anticipation for something to go wrong. Anticipation for this night to end. Dex watched as the FBI agents all hounded each other—arms around each other drunkenly, complaining about this week’s new agents and how they needed to get paid more. Dex looked at them with disdain. He couldn’t relate to any of them even if he wanted to. 

His mind wandered to the last few minutes of work when he got the chance to say goodbye to her.

“Headin’ out early?” Dex asked as he leaned in the doorway of her exam room. She was gathering her things and putting on her coat. Dex watched her carefully from afar, admiring the way she effortlessly made everything she did look so easy. 

“A rare occasion. Yes,” she smiled. “I heard a bunch of the agents are going out tonight. Are you joining them?”

“Unfortunately,” Dex sighed. “I’m only going for Ray. Show face.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fun,” she reasoned, meeting him at her door. “Just don’t give me a reason to have to come back at midnight and I gotta stitch you up for getting in a bar fight.”

Dex laughed softly. “I would never.” 

Ray came back to his seat laughing, holding a new beer. His presence brought Dex out of his memory. Ray shook his head and looked at Dex. 

“These guys, man,” Ray uttered. “They’re lucky we’re all off the clock.”

“Yeah,” Dex said coolly, taking a sip of his beer. “Real lucky.”

“Why don’t you get in there and join them?” 

“I’m fine here,” Dex answered. 

“Make a little effort, Dex,” Ray urged. He knew he meant well, but Dex wished he’d stop pushing it. He sighed, feeling trapped in his corner. He watched as Beckett and other agents took shots of whiskey and slammed the glasses on the bar. 

“Who wants to play some darts?” Beckett asked the group. He made his way over to where Dex and Ray sat and slammed his hand on the table. Dex tensed and straightened in his seat. “Nadeem? You got skills with darts? I know you do.” 

“Oh, I don’t think so. Maybe Dex—he’s our sniper after all.” Ray pats Dex on the shoulder. If looks could kill, Ray would be on the floor. 

Beckett gives him a thoughtful look then looks at Dex. “Whaddaya say, Poindexter?”

“Not in the mood,” Dex said in a low voice, swiveling his beer around. 

“Come on, Poindexter. Have a little fun. Don’t be a pussy. You and Ray versus me and Garcia. Let’s go,” he urged Dex. Dex tried to hide the suspicion he felt but shrugged. 

Ray gives Dex an urging look, and finally, Dex cracks. 

“Okay,” Dex sighs, taking a sip of his beer. “You guys first.”

“All right,” Beckett nods. 

Ray pats Dex on the shoulder again and makes his way toward the dart boards. Dex pushes past people in the bar, the dingy air getting to his senses. The smoke from cigarettes in the bar burns his eyes and the smell of sticky alcohol coats the floor. He can feel his shoes sticking to it. Being in a place like this reminds Dex of a time he tried to socialize when he was younger—he’s gotten better at it over the years, but he hated how nothing really has changed about it. 

Dex finds a new table to place his beer at. He feels all eyes on him from the other agents, watching him like he’s some kind of circus act. Maybe they're not judging him, maybe it’s all in his head. He ignores their stares. At least that much he’s gotten better at.

Agent Garcia wrote the team names on the board as the other agents found their places to watch. The dart boards were tucked in a corner of the bar, away from most people, though some strangers lingered to watch the game. Ray brought over a bin of darts. 

“Choose your color.”

Dex quickly glanced at the bin and grabbed the first trio he saw. The barrel of the darts was navy blue, paired with a white shaft. The flight colors were black and white stripes. Ray opted for red and orange colored ones. 

Agent Beckett was first. He placed his left foot at a sideways angle and stepped forward with his right. He squinted his eyes. Dex watched with crossed arms. Beckett threw his dart forward and it landed on the 18th segment, triple ring. He threw twice more and hit the double ring at 6 and 10. His darts were purple and white. 

“Not bad,” Beckett said to himself. He marked the scoreboard and took his darts off the board. “You’re up, Garcia.”

Garcia got in the same position and threw his green and black darts all too fast, hitting double rings at 10, 15 and 2. Beckett booed him, along with the other agents as they all took another swig of beer. 

“You first,” Dex said in a low voice to Ray. 

Ray deflates. “Come on.”

“You made me come out. You’re going first,” Dex demanded. He won’t take no for an answer. Ray nodded his head in defeat and walked up to the mark. 

Ray’s about to throw his dart when Agent Beckett makes a fake moaning sound to throw him off. Ray stumbled and completely missed the board. Dex glared at Beckett. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Beckett raised his hands. “Fair is fair.”

Ray laughs anyway and throws his last two darts. Triple ring at 11 and 8. 

Ray marked the board and took his darts. He raised his eyebrows at Dex knowingly as Dex took his stance to throw. 

It’s almost too easy.

He hits the bull twice before making the bull’s eye on his last throw. He didn’t want any more attention than he already had so he purposefully missed the bull’s eye twice before ultimately choosing his pride—just to see the look on Beckett’s face. Dex smirked as he heard Ray cheer along with a few other agents. Beckett brooded in his seat like a spoiled child. 

“Bullseye!” Ray shouted, slamming the table with his hand. 

“Game is still on,” Beckett reminded everyone. “Let’s make it more interesting. Whoever’s up has to say who they would fuck in the office,” at this, a few agents started to laugh and pulled out their phones, obviously searching on social media their co-workers. Dex shook his head and pinched his nose. “Come on, we’re off the clock. What happens out here stays out here. It doesn’t make it back to the office. Nobody’s going to tell on anybody. Not that the Bureau can afford to fire anyone anyway. Ray, you’re excused since you’re married—unless you want to play.”

Dex rolls his eyes as he faces the board and takes his darts out. He adds the score to the scoreboard and walks slowly back to the table. Beckett watches him carefully. Dex ignores him. 

Garcia’s up first. 

“The girl at the front desk in the building on the first floor,” he says. “I can’t remember her name, but her tits are perfect. I love that the desk is low so I can get a better look if she’s wearing a low-cut top. Or when she wears those zipper polos and I only see the shape. God,” he breathes out. He gets in position and throws each dart lazily. He doesn’t even care he misses, he just takes another sip of his beer. 

“Yeah, she’s cute,” Beckett agrees. “I don’t know. If I had to choose, how about that nurse we just got?” Beckett asks. “Poindexter, you know the one. Don’t you?” The tone of his voice is barbed. 

Dex grips his beer so tightly the glass might shatter in his hand at the mention of her. The mention of her coming out of Beckett’s mouth. Dex’s fingers twitch over his darts on the table, lining them up evenly. His jaw tightens as he watches Beckett get into position. Dex leans on the wall and feels his muscles tense. 

“Yeah,” Dex says coolly. “I know her.”

Beckett throws his first dart. He hits the triple ring at 1.

“She’s real pretty,” he states. “Quiet. But they say the quiet ones are always the freakiest.”

He throws his second dart. Dex grabs one of his darts and slowly moves away from the table, ignoring the nervous glances he receives from Ray. Beckett hits the triple ring on 16. 

“I think I’d like to fake an injury to get examined by her. Feel her hands all over my face. You know, she’s actually pretty feisty when you talk to her. Should’ve heard what she said when you left the break room the other day, Poindexter,” Beckett repositions himself. Dex loses his composure for a moment—he didn’t know of this. “I don’t like a girl who thinks she can talk to me a certain way. Yeah, I’d like to get in her exam room and shut her up with my cock in her mouth.”

At this, the other agents laugh and roar, holding their beer bottles up in the air. Beckett laughs with them and looks at Dex before he throws his final dart.

“Bet you’d like to do the same to her,” Beckett taunts. 

When Beckett’s dart lands, it lands on the bull. 

Dex breathes deeply. It wasn’t often Dex let his emotions get the best of him—that was something he learned from Dr. Mercer—to learn to control his emotions. Learn to control his rage. Since joining the army, and then joining the FBI, his work has helped him keep himself in check. He doesn’t take things personally. He remains calm in otherwise stressful situations. He tries not to react. He’s learned to calculate situations in his head. 

Those same sentiments apply to this very situation he’s in right now. He’s knowingly controlling his rage. When people have rage, most people see red. They feel hot. Not Dex. Dex sees black when he feels rage. He feels cold in his blood. 

And that’s why when Beckett goes up to the board after taunting Dex using her name like it was nothing, Dex decides to take his shot early. 

Dex throws the dart so fast before anyone can register what’s happening. As Beckett is walking towards the dartboard to get his darts, Dex’s shot flies right beside Beckett’s head, just purposefully missing him, but landing right on the bullseye. Beckett jumps back in startling realization that Dex's dart almost pinned his finger to the board. 

“What the hell?!” 

Beckett stalks over to Dex and pushes him with his chest against him. Rage is clearly all over Beckett, hot-headed anger coming Dex’s way. Dex stands still and braces himself. “What the fuck’s your problem, man?” 

“My problem is—“ Dex begins to say, but stops himself when he sees all the agents looking at them. Suddenly he hears her voice in the back of his head; she only made a joke about him getting into a bar fight, but Dex took it to heart. Ray stands from the table, anticipating both Dex and Beckett’s next move. Dex analyzes the situation quickly. He’s not in the mood for this—not tonight. He lets out a harsh breath—gives Beckett one last look of disdain, before walking outside the bar and into the cold night. 

Ray is right behind him. 

“What the hell was that?” Ray asks in exasperation, catching up to Dex who’s further down the street. Dex feels something heavy and hollow in his chest. 

“Dex!” Ray calls him, grabbing his shoulder. Dex shakes his hand off him and snaps at Ray.

“What Ray?” Dex snaps, daggers in his hazel eyes as he stares down Ray.  

“You could get in trouble for purposefully trying to hit him like that. What the hell were you thinking?!” 

“Like you said,” Dex said, eyes narrow, tucking his hands in his pockets. “We’re lucky we’re off the clock.”

“That’s different,” Ray says through gritted teeth. “You almost threw a dart in his hand.” 

“Beckett said himself that what happens outside stays outside. As far as I’m concerned, he didn’t move out of the way in time for me to take my shot. It was an accident.” 

“Jesus,” Ray utters under his breath, massages his temples. “Really hope this doesn’t make it back to Hattley.” 

“I don’t care if it does,” Dex shakes his head. “It was a game of darts. I didn’t want to come out, Ray,” Dex says in a low voice. “You made me. I wasn’t going to stand around there any longer and listen to them bullshit like that. Now they’ve got something else to talk about.”

Dex turns around and continues on his walk home, eyes forward, drowning out the noise of the city, the noise of the night. 

***

Dex doesn’t get to the Bureau until noon the next day. 

When he arrives, he scans his FBI badge at the door and walks into an otherwise normal setting at the office. People are at their desks, typing away and working on their tasks. Ray comes walking down the hall, looking more stressed to see Dex than happy. Dex isn’t worried about it. He isn’t even worried when Ray pulls him into an empty conference room to talk to him.

“Hattley’s going to call you in her office today,” Ray says in a hushed tone. “She caught wind of what happened last night.”

“And?” Dex questioned. “What exactly was it that happened other than you and me beating Beckett at a little game of darts?”

Ray shoots Dex a knowing look, disapproving of his otherwise lighthearted tone. The one time Dex chooses to be lighthearted, it’s a problem. 

“Not to Beckett,” Ray explained. “He went to her office earlier this morning.”

“So Beckett’s a tattle tale and sore loser,” Dex nodded. “Got it.”

“He feels threatened by you,” Ray told him.

“And how’s that my problem?”

“Because he’s trying to rally the other agents in getting him on his side.”

“And yet I’m still here. The problem isn’t me, Ray. It’s what he says about people in this office—it’s what he said about—“

“About __, I know,” Ray said. “I think Hattley’s going to talk to her as well.”

Dex squints his eyes, “does she know?”

“I don’t know,” Ray shook his head. “I can’t imagine Beckett would tell Hattley what lead up to the dart throwing.”

“This is ridiculous, Ray. What are they going to do? Tell me not to play darts anymore?”

“I don’t know—I just wanted you to be prepared for when she calls you.”

Dex sighs, and Ray leaves him there alone in the conference room. He exits and walks around the corner, almost bumping into someone. 

It’s her.

“Oh, hi Dex,” she stumbles, “I’m sorry. How are you?”

Dex raises his eyebrows, whatever hard expression he had on his face softening when he looked at her. “Hey—I’m good.” From the way she’s speaking, Dex doesn’t think she knows what happened.

“How was last night?” She asked.

“Not that fun, honestly.”

“Aw, that’s too bad.”

“Did you have a good night?”

“Yeah, turned in early. Got here about an hour ago.”

“Agent Poindexter,” Hattley calls from a few feet behind them. “Do you have a minute to speak?”

“Sure,” Dex answers. He looks back at her and smiles softly. “I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay,” she nods. 

Dex walks past her, following Hattley into her office. He’s not intimidated in the slightest—he knows he didn’t do anything wrong. He closes her door and takes a seat in front of her desk. 

“How are you, Poindexter? It’s been a while since I’ve called you in, which I guess is a good thing,” Hattley says as she sits down. 

“I’m good,” Dex says. “What’s the reason why I’m being called in?”

“Well, I understand that co-workers become friends and friends hang out outside of work. So I know a bunch of the agents went out last night. Which is typically fine,” Hattley begins, putting her hands together, “but I did receive a complaint from another agent this morning about something that happened last night.”

Dex can’t help but shake his head and roll his eyes—he was getting tired of the beating around the bush. “It was a game of darts, Agent Hattley.”

“I understand that,” she says quickly, “but Beckett is particularly unhappy with your conduct. And he feels uncomfortable about it.”

“Because I hit a bullseye?” Dex scoffed, “Hattley, come on. Do you hear how ridiculous this sounds? If Beckett is getting worried about a fair game of darts then maybe he’s not cut out for this job,” Dex explains in frustration. Of course, Beckett left out of the part that he instigated Dex’s so-called “conduct.” Of course he would leave out his own locker-room talk about __. “It was a brush,” Dex says more calmly. “It didn’t hit him.”

“I did hear something else,” Hattley says carefully. “There was a mention of __. Is that true?”

“It’s true that Beckett said something about her. Yes.”

“And then you proceeded to make him uncomfortable with the dart.”

“If you want to call playing a fair game making him uncomfortable, then yes. What’s your point?” 

“I just want to keep the peace, Agent Poindexter,” Hattley says quietly. “Do you really think I give a damn about a dart game after work hours? I manage a lot of personalities in this Bureau and if someone brings something to my attention, I’ll attempt to make peace, even if it is a silly game of darts. I just wanted to talk and let Beckett know I spoke with you. Do you understand what I’m getting at?”

Dex nodded. He did. 

“Thank you,” he says sternly. “Can I please be excused?”

“Yes,” Hattley says. “Could you get __ for me? I’d like to speak with her as well.”

***

Dex finds her in her exam room, reading over a file at her desk. She’s sipping on a cup of coffee and focused when she hears the door of her room open. She’s pleasantly surprised again when she sees it’s Dex. 

“Hey,” she smiles, “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Dex nods. “Hattley wants to talk to you.”

“Me? Why?” She asks as she stands from her seat, feeling a tiny bit nervous.”

“Uh,” Dex sighs, and steps inside her office completely, and shuts the door. “Just about something that happened last night.” 

“What happened last night and what does it have to do with me?”

Dex looks away from her concerned gaze. He’s not sure if he should tell her or not.

“I don’t want you to get upset,” Dex says in a soft, low voice. “Beckett and some other agents might have said some weird things about people in the office.”

She raises her eyebrows and crosses her arms. “I assume the people he said weird things about were women in the office?”

Dex nods. He doesn’t say anything more. She suddenly feels uncomfortable at the thought of Beckett being in her room. 

“Okay,” she says. “I’ll talk to Hattley.”

“It’s going to be alright,” Dex offers as comfort. 

“If you say so.”

Dex opens the door for her and lets her out. She makes her way to Hattley’s office and knocks on her door.

“Come in,” Hattley calls. 

“Hey,” she says, closing the door behind her. “Everything okay?”

“Yes,” Hattley nods. “Please, sit.”

“What’s going on?” She asks with confusion and anxiety in her voice. 

“This will be quick. I just wanted to ask you something about the agents here. You’ve gotten to know them over the past few months, right?”

“Yes,” she nods. “I like everyone here.”

“Does anyone make you uncomfortable?”

“Who are you exactly implying, Tammy?”

Hattley looks over her shoulder to make sure her door is closed. “Does Special Agent Poindexter make you uncomfortable?”

She laughs, despite herself. What was it with this Bureau trying to make Dex into something he’s not? Was his personality really that off-putting to people who didn’t know him? Dex hasn’t made her feel uncomfortable ever—it was Beckett who did. 

“Tammy,” she begins, leaning forward in her seat. “Wasn’t it Beckett who said something strange about the women in the office? No, I’m not afraid of Special Agent Poindexter. Frankly, it’s Agent Beckett who makes me uncomfortable. Shouldn’t you be asking me about him?”

Hattley purses her lips and considers what she says. “Okay. That’s all I needed to know.” 

Frustrated, she leaves Hattley’s office and quickly walks back to her exam room, shutting the door. Running a hand through her hair, she can’t help but wonder what it was Beckett said about her and the other women in the office. It must’ve been gross and inappropriate. Part of her wants to know, the other part is disgusted at the thought. 

And what did all this have to do with Dex?

[being-addie]

How to have a productive study session.

When your finals are in 2 days, and you've definitely NOT studied enough, it's normal to panic. You sit down to study and get a solid 30 minutes of calculus done, then jump down the rabbit hole called YouTube. Soon enough the dread creeps up because you're still not done.

As a girl who doesn't attend school regularly due to coaching classes I go to (I'll expand on this later), it's pretty easy to forget to study for exams and projects.

But there's nothing better than getting 98% on that exam. So I'm writing this as someone who's been scoring straight As all my life. Here's how to have a productive study session:

Note: This isn't a guide for romanticising studies. This is meant for a serious, productive session. I will, however, be making a guide to help romanticise studies because I've found it helps a lot.

Before you study

Identify what your distractions are: Let's be real, almost everyone has their phone on hand during study sessions. Put your phone on Do Not Disturb and keep it in a corner of the room. Add a few selected contacts that can reach you while your phone is on DND. If you can turn off notifications entirely, do that.

Taking measures: After I keep my phone away, my brain turns to the next thing it could be distracted by. My laptop and tablet. Put those devices in focus mode, so you won't be tempted to use any other apps and use a Chrome extension like StayFocused or WasteNoTime to not get sidetracked.

Resources: Make sure you have all your material on hand. Video lectures, notes, guides, your formula sheet, and flash cards. Keep everything on hand so you won't have to rifle through papers to find that reference sheet.

Your space: Clean your desk. Keep only the things you need. Your pens and pencils, chargers, annotation material and water bottle. If you want, light a candle. Do not clutter it unnecessarily. Your desk is a sacred space. Treat it that way.

When you sit down

The checklist: Do you have all the material required? Electronics, chargers, a snack and a drink? Water bottle? Extra pen? If you have everything beforehand, you'll be less likely to lose focus because you forgot to charge your headphones.

Make a plan: I cannot stress this enough. You'll sit down and just start studying, and next thing you know, it's 7pm and all you've done is watch videos on celebrity drama. Make a goddamn plan. Write down a realistic number of chapters you can complete and then STICK TO IT.

Begin: Reread and review your notes. I usually like to rewrite my notes in neater handwriting, because my handwriting in class is appalling. To really solidify information, I recommend the 'Blurting' method. Read a paragraph, then close the book and say what you understood out loud. Reread to see what you missed and take note. I did this for my history exam and got a 100%. This shit works for a reason. Use the Pomodoro technique to maximise productivity. Set an alarm for 25 minutes, and do intensive study. Once that's done, take a 5-minute break. Return and repeat.

IMPORTANT

Take a break: Ah yes, if you don't get up every 40 minutes or so for a break, eventually whatever you're studying will start looking like garbage and you'll be back to square one. GET UP. Walk around. STRETCH. You've been looking like a croissant🥐. Eat something. Rehydrate.

Forgive yourself: If you couldn't hit your target, don't be harsh on yourself. Find out the cause: Were you distracted? Did something unavoidable come up? Then try to make sure it doesn't happen again.

Study buddy: This is a double-edged sword. Studying with a friend can either increase your productivity by a massive amount, or it can help you get absolutely zero work done. When revising with a friend, make sure you study with someone who has the same goals as you and won't get distracted by things.

It's 2023, procrastination is cancelled. Go drink some water, eat a granola bar and finish that assignment you've been delaying. Be the person who finishes all their work, on time and perfectly. You can do it.

<3

[rohannsharma13]

What You Need for a Smooth PTE Exam Experience On the day of your PTE exam, make sure you have all the necessary documents, items, and preparation. It's also important to familiarize yourself with the PTE marks distribution to ensure you allocate enough time for each section.

[twstgameplay]

sorry to bother and so so sorry if u guys already answered something like this before but do you guys have any specific grind routine? im busy because of irl and i often forget to open twst but having a routine used to help me before life got busy, would u guys happen to have any or any recommendations?

If you can use LP through out day, I recommend checking your guest room for messes and invite before doing your lessons. Lessons are the final thing I do before my closing any TWST lessons because I will set my phone down and it goes to sleep after the lessons are completed. I do the exam and room battles when I have time but using LP is the main priority. Most of the time I do them either in the morning or at night.

The checklist before I'm done with the day is

Room likes

Do room battle

Exam battles

Skip lessons for any LP I might have

Otherwise you can take your time building cards. Just don't expect to quickly get high scores from using 10 LP per day.

~ 👑

I play both JP and EN, and thankfully have a way to split screen my phone to play both at once. If I didn't, I probably wouldn't play EN at all. Because of this, I have to balance the difference between when the EN game resets and the JP game resets, and therefore generally do the following:

I have an alarm that goes off every 2.5 hours for AP/LP. I do not set an alarm overnight, but otherwise, when the alarm goes off, I open TWST, start lessons, reset the alarm, and set my phone down.

I have alarms that goes off every 10 (JP)/12 (EN) hours for Guest Room Invites. When the alarm goes off, I open TWST, invite a character, reset the alarm, and set my phone down.

Guest Room Cleanup and Visits are done before doing Gauntlet battles. There generally is one cleanup event a day (although depending on trouble, there could be more) and visit medals can be grabbed anytime after reset.

Gauntlet and Exam battles are either done in the evening after work (whether it be before bed, or while surfing the web) or in the morning before work (only when I forget to do JP battles the night before.

During Master Chef/Culinary Crucible, I always do the 2.5 hour collection so I can collect ingredients, send the next group out, then do lessons.

~🐬

[mercurygray]

Hello! How about

29.— preparation from the one word prompts for Edie, please?

@ktredshoes also asked for Edie and the word 'bitter' - i hope you two don't mind that I decided to combine them!

This was as close as she'd ever get.

It was quiet, up here in the slow-curling light of dawn - outside, Winks and the rest of the crew were checking engines and spark plugs and surveying the rest of their repairs, and she was up in the nose of the plane, the light slowly illuminating the compartment through the plexiglass, sending shadows here and there. And right at the head of the compartment, leading the whole plane - the bombsight, sitting on its mounting like a Sphinx, knobs and dials ready to divine and deliver.

This one had come straight from the workshop this morning - she'd carried it out here herself in its special canvas bag and carefully mounted it into the stabilizers, sitting back to wait for the bombardier who'd be going out with this plane this morning.

The bombardier - who was not her. This was as close as she would ever get to the war.

Never mind that she knew the thing as well as she knew her own hands, never mind that she'd studied and trained on it more hours than anyone would care to count. Someone else would take the sight out this morning and make it do its terrible work, because the Army Air Forces were not in the business of putting women in airplanes. That's what she'd been told, angrily, after she'd handed in the same already-graded copy of the exam all the bomber boys were taking, shown her score to the instructor. Don't we keep hearing there's a shortage of qualified candidates?

"Now, don't you worry about that, Sergeant Lockner," he'd said, sputtering. "We've got plenty of men to take care of those things."

Plenty of men, was it? Plenty of men who'd scored lower than she had on that exam? But the nose of the plane as it sat on the ground in Norfolk was as far as she'd go. Plenty of men who wouldn't be able to do the work she could do inside the sight tuning and fixing and measuring, because she was a girl, and her fingers were finer, and those other things, the coarse-grained war things, could be handled by them.

A truck grumbled by outside, and Edie got off the bombardier's seat and moved to sit on the floor near the instrument panel, listening as the men got out of the truck and began loading into the plane, stubbing out cigarettes and joking about the weather, their kit bags landing with soft thumps into the belly of the plane. "You getting her all set up for me up here, Edie?"

"Locked and loaded for your checks, sir."

James Douglass sat down in his seat and looked over at her with a smile on his face. "Now when are you gonna quit it with the ranks and just call me Doug like everyone else does?"

She rolled her eyes. "When I'm sure you're not gonna make something of it, Lieutenant." Calling me Edie's bad enough, but everyone does that.

Douglass looked disappointed. "Is my reputation really that bad?" he asked. "Hold on - don't answer that. It's already all over your face."

Your reputation for being interested in every girl who'll give you the time of day? That reputation? "Would have thought you'd call that good, where you're sitting."

"Would be if I could get a date out of it," Douglass groused.

"Want me to run the checklist with you, sir?" Edie asked, walking straight past any remarks she wanted to make about how the doctrine of precision bombing worked on women, too, if they didn't think you were just dropping compliments on anything that moved, but it was early, and they had a war to fight, and she needed to be out of the plane before all four of those engines started firing.

"Cutting it a little close," Douglass observed, but made no move to stop her and reached for his checklist.

Of course I am, Edie agreed bitterly, reaching for the master switch, the first item on the list she could recite by heart. Close is all I've got.

[theflyindutchwoman]

I don't want to be that cop. This whole thing is pissing me off. I-It's just I don't want to do it this way running around trying to tick off boxes. It's not me.

| ANATOMY OF A SCENE - CHENFORD EDITION 1.19 - The Checklist

When I think of my favourite moments between Tim and Lucy, I can't say this scene immediately comes to mind… And yet, it is a very good one for several reasons.

It truly highlights the lengths Tim is ready to go to help Lucy succeed, something we already got a taste of in Plain Clothes Day. He went out of his way to find a neighbourhood where their chances to find a stolen vehicle for her checklist were the highest. Not only did he ask for tips to a friend of his from another station, it's implied that they aren't even patrolling in their regular beat. He's trying to do everything in his power to ensure that Lucy will be able to take her 6-months exam. Now, I'm sure he feels at least partially responsible for her being in this predicament in the first place. But mostly, this is just him wanting her to succeed. He might be relegated to the supportive role here, but he does his best at trying to cheer her up when she's starting to lose hope… making it a nice role reversal. Having said that, Tim isn't a complete passive bystander. He's also doing a subtle Tim Test : when he presents Lucy with the two options she has (one being unfavourable to her), he knows that regardless of her decision, she will end up checking a box. But he doesn't remind her of this fact until after she takes her decision. And he looks absolutely proud of her for doing the right thing. Although I don't think he really doubted her either.

As for Lucy, she's the real star here, proving exactly what kind of person she is : the type that finds a way to be good, even if that's to her detriment. The last time she was under pressure, she stumbled a bit and let it get to her at first. But here, she doesn't lose track of her purpose. And her refusal to unjustly punish a woman who is simply trying to get by, just so she can check a box, speaks volume on her morals. Her behaviour stands in stark contrast to Jackson's, who was getting more and more reckless and taking this checklist as a game, to the point where he was ready to send someone to jail just for a ticked box. Her mettle is being tested here and she doesn't waver. She looked so hopeful for a moment, when she thought she found a stolen vehicle and could stand a chance. But that didn't distract her to what was at stake. To her credit, she didn't even realise that she would still check one of her boxes. And considering this bureaucratic nonsense happened because of a dirty cop in the first place, her willingness to get behind in the program instead of taking the easy road is that much more relevant and significant.

[theunaestheticstudyblr]

Hi.

I tend to get really nervous about the outcome of the exam when I am studying and it gets overwhelming to actually work.

Any tips to deal with it?

P.s. Much of your advice is so realistic and super helpful :)

I'm glad you find my posts helpful and realistic!

And I completely understand. I did that a lot too and I'd just give up on studying, completely convinced that I'm going to fail. A few things I have done to help this are:

I remind myself that I paid to learn, not to pass a test. I paid to get information. I need to get my money's worth. This thinking helped reframe my mindset from passing tests and just doing classes to get a degree to actually WANTING to learn since I PAID A LOT OF MONEY

I make checklists. I like to go through and identify main points in the lessons and turn them into their own mini lessons. Break each main point into basics. Vocabulary, names, places, dates, species, etc. Just the bare bones. I use this outline of each topic as a checklist and if I know 90% of the information in that topic, I'm not going to stress over that. And you'll be surprised with just how much you actually do know!

I make studying a fun routine and do it somewhere with a couple distractions and stuff to help keep my mind from spiraling. I go to my local bar on a Monday or Tuesday afternoon and sit in the corner. This gives me enough quiet to study, but enough distractions to where I can't get in my head about it and a place I can have fun when the work gets too much.

I try to mix the information I learn into daily things. Mention a cool fact you learned to a friend at lunch or talk about a cool topic to your plants. Maybe tell your neice about that animal you just learned about.

Find something that interests you in every topic. Go ahead and do your own research on that thing. Deep dive. You'll learn a lot of the other information in that topic too without knowing. I learned about enzymatic activities in saliva because I was researching how some species can keep their mouths filled with bacteria. That kind of stuff.

I hope these helped! But overall, just try and distract yourself from the test and focus on learning because you WANT to learn. A test is a test and at the end of the day that doesn't matter. It's how much you know and enjoy the material that matters. A future employer isn't going to see your transcripts and GPA. They're going to want to know if you know what you're talking about, so don't stress too much love!!

[koffeinvergiftung]

Tips for studying as a struggling adult

I often see tips for studying and building routines, but they often help me for only a day or two, but never long run. Most of them are also oriented towards students, and the schedule won't work if you have a full time job while studying.

Note: I am neurodivergent (AuDHD), and have been struggling with mental and physical health for most of my student years, to the point where I had to drop out of University to focus on myself. These tips will be a mixture of what has helped me in high school, and what helps me now.

1. Having a routine is good, but missing your 'checklist' is not the end of the world

Having a full time job means there is a 'must do' every day, no matter what other plans I might have. What I usually do is try to work my study plans around my work schedule.

Morning shift: I come home around 1.30, so at around 3 I will start with revision, or new lecture (depending on the day). During revision, I will take a break after every 'section' (for example: vocab practice - break - sentence practice - break - revision review). If I'm starting a new lecture, I will usually take a break every 45 minutes, to mimic the classroom schedule I had when I was in school. Usually I will do my Duolingo lecture on the to, during my break, or before bed.

Afternoon shift: I try to wake up around 9, and I do my Duolingo practice while having breakfast. After that I do my revision/new lecture, and I try to study until at least 11-11.30. After work I will do some more revision, and get ready for bed.

I always spend my evenings on call with my partner, so I will also use that time to ask for help with grammar or pronunciation.

This routine helps me, BUT, there will always be days when I don't feel like doing anything, especially is work has been extra tiring that day. Then I will just do my Duolingo daily quests, and if I'm feeling like it, some vocab review.

It's okay to not be okay, if you feel like you need a break, please take some time for yourself. There is always tomorrow, or even next week. Go easy on yourself ♡

2. Make your free time count

With work and studying, it's easy to forget about your hobbies and social life. To avoid the burnout, try to fine some time every day to do what you enjoy (drawing, reading, gaming etc.) Even if you spend more time on your hobbies than studying, that's okay.

Another thing I do is take a few minutes every say to tidy up around my room. Somehow ( no idea how), trash such as papers quickly acclimate in my room, so if I don't deal with trash on a daily basis, it eventually turns into a depression room. And those are nearly impossible to deal with for me.

Make sure to keep in touch with your friends, too! I try to go out at least once a week, and sometimes turn that coffee into a study session. Those often help me stay focused, and we also talk about the material while studying.

3. Mental health matters more than your studies

I often see posts that romanticise 'working until you drop', sleep deprivation, caffeine overdose and similar. Please, please, PLEASE, take care of yourself! I used to be that way in high school, and sure, passing my classes with an A, felt amazing, but you know what didn't? Suffering a complete burnout, mental breakdown, and major issues with physical health, all withing less than six months. All due to overworking myself in highschool, all due to not taking care of myself. Remember, you can always retake the exam, or redo a year; you cannot redo your life.

When I'm feeling a burnout coming, I make sure to take a day or two just for myself; no studying, to revision, just me and myself. On those days you can do whatever makes you feel happy, relaxed and content. I usually watch a few episodes of a show, spend some time playing video games, and spend some time outside. Especially if it's a nice day outside, try to catch a few rays of sunshine every day, and especially if you're not feeling well (don't forget to wear sun protection!)

These are the tips that help me now, but most of these I couldn't really implement while I was in high school. I will do another post on how I studied before (over 5 years ago 🫣), and how I raised my grades. I'm also planning on writing (and maybe illustrating) about the way I study now, including taking notes and revising.

[alcnek]

══✿══╡check in╞══✿══

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ may 10-11 2024

SOTD

.•° ✿ °•.

checklist

❀ made my bed

❀ skin care (2x)

❀ brushed teeth (2x)

❀ hair +/ body shower

❀ studied (final exam)

❀ lab report 10

❀ module 10 videos

❀ quiz module 10

❀ finished planning party

❀ party (+ clean up)

❀ laundry

reflection

purposely didn't post may 7-9 bc i knew it was gonna be the same exact things on the checklist, which included "studied" + everything above. i studied for 3 days straight without doing any other assignments for other classes.

anyway, most of this checklist was done yesterday lol. i wanted to do most of my assignments before the party.

°•. ✿ .•°

[vtoriacore-rbs]

What inspires you to read your books and prepare for exam v_v

Idk if I'm coping or doom spiraling by just. Doing anything but revise

Am just not feelin it v_v

How's your day going?

my day was quite boring actually, work and then studying so it was busy fjfjf

But when studying, I use brainscape to create all my flashcards and just do exam questions and that's pretty much all my revision 😭 usually, you just have to start even when you don't want to but I'd encourage to really break down what you're going to revise into small segments and maybe make a little checklist to tick things off so it's more manageable and doesn't seem like you're not making progress!

you might not feel like starting it at all but in my experience, just doing it gets it out the way. I never wanna start revising but when I do just start it I find that it's not as much effort as I thought it was before (adhd and procrastination might make these tasks seem like they're soooo much effort when in reality it's not as difficult as we think!) so getting into the routine of doing it even if you may not feel like it worked the best for me :)

but yh that's pretty much all that I can say on this, since exams suck and they can be a lot of work and demotivating. good luck with your studying! it may seem hard and like a lot of effort but i promise when you get down to just starting it (even if it's only like 15-20 minutes) then you're still doing progress, it's always step by step :)!