#i’m burnt out from the semester but i need to get this out of my system

[tenderhungering]

editing in progress instead of writing a final essay. gonna email them and said i had a business to tend to,,, would love to hear thoughts because i have ideas but i usually do a ROUGH first draft,,,, im gonna add minnie for the “now you’re the only one here who can tell me if it’s true, that you love me and i love me” because clearly i am sick and twisted ! but yeah no this isn’t finished at all !!!

[anonymolly]

.

[forthesummer]

i asked to work 4 days when the most i ever worked has been 3 i hope it doesn’t feel too overwhelming for me

[joelmillers-whore]

Hard Light | Chapter 1

summary: when a new english professor begins teaching your class for the duration of your semester, you can’t help but develop an innocent crush on him. he’s as off-limits as he can be, but that doesn’t deter you in the slightest. after a drunk night, you accidentally email him something that wasn’t intended to ever be seen by anyone. but that doesn’t matter. it triggers a misunderstanding that manifests into an affair with your professor who is twenty years your senior. nothing good could come of this, right? 

pairings: professor!joel x college student!reader

word count: 2.2K

series or one-shot

warnings: 18+ explicit, minors DNI, no mention of Y/N, alternate universe, professor/student relationship, eventual smut, self-esteem issues, workaholic, joel x female!reader, infatuation bordering on obsession (stay delulu friends), some sexual thoughts, masturbation (f), joel being a huge tease lol, (will add more tags as i write)

AN: i am so excited by the response that my joel one-shot got a few days ago and i’ve been itching to get something else out to you all. big, giant forehead kisses for those who want one, i love you all. so, anyway, a mini-series about professor joel is coming at you fast. i’ve written the first few chapters, so expect those in the near future. i’m thinking once a week? this fic is going to be something else and i’m so excited to share it with ya’ll. enjoy, and let me know what you think. find my ao3 here for more content and other fandoms.

You were running late for your shift at the coffee shop on campus, rummaging around your dresser, trying to find the low-cut black top you always wore when you had a shift. You weren’t usually one to feed into the peer pressure of those around you, but push came to shove when you found it nearly impossible to keep yourself afloat as a twenty-something student without the added extra tips from your part-time job.

So what if you had to show a little bit of cleavage? Right? There was no harm. Student loans were a bitch and on top of rent and food costs, you had to get a job at the coffee shop and balance a full course load just to make ends meet. 

A thought popped into your head and you rushed to your laptop, throwing it open as you checked the time; 5:45 AM. If you busted out your lightning-fast typing skills, you would have enough time to catch the next bus and make it to campus with five minutes to spare. If only your crappy second-hand computer would work.

The thing honestly sounded like a chopper engine, getting ready for lift-off. You were surprised you’d gotten this far with it. Not that you weren’t appreciative, your older brother had passed it down and it had relieved a huge weight—  and expense off of your shoulders. 

You tabbed into your school portal, typing in your credentials and selecting your English course. You sighed heavily, as you skimmed over the assignment for this week, something to do with a sonnet that you couldn’t care less about. You loved school but ever since becoming an English major, the spark that you once had for literature sort of just evaporated.

You couldn’t tell if it was because of how busy you were with everything else that you just couldn’t find the time to enjoy it, or the thought that really scared you, you had fallen out of love with it. 

It had been two years of go, go, go and you were, for lack of a better word, burnt out. You’d tried dropping courses last semester, thinking that you just needed a little bit of ease when it came to your course load, but when that didn’t solve the problem and only made things worse for you, you spent the last two semesters trying to catch up and get yourself to a place where you could finally breathe.

But it wasn’t easy. You were only now caught up to where you had been, the illusion that you were someone who could afford to take time off and slow down was a distant memory. 

In bold letters, the words Paid Internship jumped off of the screen. You smiled as you leaned in closer to the screen, making sure you read through everything correctly. This was the break above the surface that you needed, the reprieve that you had been chasing. A paid internship was exactly how you’d be able to make more money and maybe have a little breathing room before you worked yourself into an early grave.

You clicked the mail icon at the top and clicked into a new email, deciding that the worst-case scenario was that you wouldn’t get the internship. All you were doing was inquiring about the application process. Best-case scenario; you’d get it and make some extra pocket money. 

You saw the time, cursing under your breath as you slammed the laptop closed, grabbed your phone out of the charger and ran out of the door. You couldn’t be late, not again. You texted your co-worker Jeremy to open the shop without you and explained to him that you were running a few minutes late, as you barely made it to the bus. You climbed on board, scanned your student pass and found a seat near the back. Your chest was burning from the rush of trying to make it on time, but you could breathe easy now.

You checked your messages mindlessly, scrolling through a bunch of unread ones that you didn’t have the heart to answer. 

Before you knew it, the familiar monuments and buildings of UT Austin came into view, and the subtle change of scenery from downtown to a more densely packed area made your heart skip a beat. It was the same each time you were back on campus. Which, these days, was often. Sliding out of the seat, you made your way to the front, thanking the driver as the bus came to a complete stop. 

The coffee shop was only a short walk from the bus stop but even still you quickened your pace. You didn't want to leave Jeremy alone for long, you already felt bad enough about letting him open by himself. You stifled a yawn as you pushed open the door to the small cafe, leaning your body into the door, slightly cringing at the shrill sound of the bell. 

"There you are", a male voice called, making your head snap up. You wiggled your nose, the familiar timbre of your ex-boyfriend's voice ringing in your ears. "It's about time you got your ass down here". 

You snickered, shrugging your heavy bag off of your shoulder, and dropping it behind the counter, turning around and greeting him with an unamused smirk.

Jeremy and you had gone out for a few months last year, it was your first and, as of right now, the only short-term relationship that you'd had in college. 

Dating your co-worker, even in a relatively small place like the coffee shop on campus, almost always spelled trouble, but Jeremy was not the type to hold something like a failed relationship over your head. He understood that school was a priority for you and making a living for yourself came first, even above something like a relationship. It might not be the healthiest way to live, but it was how it always was. 

Jeremy and you had developed a fast friendship, one that went beyond the romantic relationship that you'd had last year. You parted amicably and now, you had someone you could confide in, someone you could trust. 

"Why don't you say that to my face?", you teased, raising a brow at him over the milk frother you were setting up. 

Jeremy threw his rag down and stalked over to you. "You're snippy this morning", he chided. 

You banged into his shoulder playfully, "Doesn't help that I have to see your ugly mug first thing in the morning". 

You snorted out a laugh and Jeremy looked at you, feigning defensiveness, "Ouch", he paused, returning back to his post near the coffee machine, "Remind me how we ever went out?". 

You scrunched your nose and threw your rag at Jeremy, hitting him square in the face with it, "That was rude". 

He shrugged his shoulder, "You started it".  

You both devolved into a fit of giggles and fell into a comfortable silence, setting up and getting the coffee shop ready for the day. You had a half-day shift to look forward to and then you had class until the late afternoon. The days were long and the nights were longer.

You usually found yourself nose-deep in your textbooks, more often than not, or some classic novel that was required for class, not moving from the couch until your eyes were red and you were seeing double. 

Only then did you retire to sleep, crashing hard until you had to wake up and do it all again the next day. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The coffee shop had been bustling with people since six in the morning, and at one in the afternoon, it hadn't let up, only now you had to go to class. Waving Jeremy goodbye, you sidestepped Tara, the fourth-year who was covering the rest of the afternoon and closing shift. 

You'd crossed the far side of campus, passing by the science building and one of the massive libraries that had acted like a second home to you back when you’d been studying for exams when you were a freshman. You could thank your obnoxious roommates for that one. 

Entering the lecture hall, bodies pressed into you as you weaved through the growing crowd, trying to find a spot in the middle where you could see and hear your English professor. But also blend in with the masses. As if the universe had other plans in mind, and everyone suddenly showed up to the Tuesday lecture all at the same time, you found yourself picking a seat near the front, an exasperated groan leaving you. 

You hated sitting at the front, not because you didn't want to get called on to answer something or because you didn't know the answers, but because you did. You wanted to get through your four years as quickly and unscathed as possible and if people knew, mainly professors, that you knew more about the subject matter than you needed to, you'd surely get called on more often, making you stick out in ways you didn't want. 

It was a terrible curse, going through life with the self-esteem that you did. But it was how you were raised. Blend in. Don't be too loud. Be quiet and only observe. Nerves rapped at your insides when you thought about getting called on when class started. Your heart rate ticked up and you found that your hands were beginning to get clammy, your throat constricting with each breath.

You rubbed your hands up and down your thighs, grounding yourself with the sensation of the material. 

With a jump, you sat up straighter in your seat, being jostled from your thoughts by a loud slam. You snapped your head toward the entrance, eying the person who had startled everyone. It was a man carrying a briefcase.

Your lips tilted up at the edges, amusement tickling you when you thought of anyone using a briefcase nowadays. But here this man was, head down as he made his way to the front of the room, toward the desk. 

You couldn't help keeping your eyes trained on him. On how his slacks tightened around his butt, moulding to the shape and curve of it. You bit your bottom lip out of reflex, your eyes dragging down the length of the mystery man who had crashed your lecture. Maybe he was a TA? Your brows furrowed when you thought about how your professor was nowhere in sight. 

The man with the briefcase placed his case on the desk, turning to face the audience of students who blinked back at him, who now settled down enough to hear him speak. Air caught in your throat when his eyes flicked momentarily to you, and lingered on you for half a second longer than you'd expected. He had massive, warm brown eyes, and soft wrinkles that danced at the edges of his eyes when he smiled, making him seem more boyish than he appeared.

He looked older than a TA would but then again, who were you to judge someone's position in life? You thought that his age did nothing to undermine just how attractive he was, if anything it added to it.  

The man, who may or may not have been moonlighting as your English TA cleared his throat, nodding his head, "My name is Joel, well, Professor Miller to most, but 've always been a little bit more informal than my peers". 

He began to circle the wooden desk nervously, his large hand finding the edge of it and stroking it far more sensually than necessary. You flexed your fingers, gripping the arm of your seat to stabilize yourself. "So, you can call me Joel from here on out... since we'll be seeing more of each other from now on". 

Murmurs began to break out around the lecture hall, and confused and hushed whispers followed. 

Professor Miller— Joel, mumbled something incoherent, and you were unable to hear it from where you sat. He cleared his throat again, "Professor McCarthy has taken a leave of absence, so I'll be filling in for him for the remainder of the semester". 

You crossed your legs, feeling heat rise and a furious blush break out across your face, and shuffled in your seat, a loud creak emitted from it and you stilled, praying that the loud sound had only been heard by you and no one else. But when you lifted your gaze, Joel's eyes were already locked on you, blown and brimming with cautious inquiry. A touch of a smirk graced his lips. 

"And I look forward to getting to know each and every one of you, personally". His eyes were still on you, not ready to release you from their hold. 

His tongue darted out to wet his lips and you couldn't help but stare. You had every reason to look away from him, he was your professor and given the clear age difference, he was someone who was off limits. But when he didn't look away from you either, trapping you with his gaze, your face heated up, suddenly aware that he was purposely staring at you. 

You swallowed thickly, heart hammering as Joel's eyes finally drifted away from you and back to the faces of your classmates. He continued on with addressing the class, and you noticed that he avoided your eyes for the rest of the lecture. 

Only one thought rang through your mind as you tried and failed to focus back on the lecture. This was going to be one long semester. 

[childrenofcain-if]

Ahh the courses look great [my Mc is opting for Psych] but I wonder how will the classes and exams will go? You're spoiling us with so many options to choose from but I also don't want u to get overwhelmed and burn out while writing them all

your worries are legitimate, dear bonnie, but i’ll say i’m currently handling it alright. sure, it’s a bit of a pain in the ass to look through the course catalogues and designing it myself but i just consider it my creative process atp.

as per my plans, each semester will have a quiz or two that y’all will have to take. that, alongside the assignments you’ll get will constitute for 30-35% of your grades. there are also the mid-term and end-term exams that y’all will also need to take for 65-70% of your grades.

for quizzes, y’all just need to answer like 3 questions and the rest would be done without an input. the minimum possible grade is B+ (87-89%).

for exams, there will be around 7 questions, more or less. the minimum possible grade is B (83-86%).

for assignments, just relax cause MC’s worst is still better than most of the class 🤷🏻

the notes will be provided in the stats just in case y’all didn’t pay attention or are just speedrunning through it all.

the minimum possible grade may go lower as MC progresses through their degree and starts to get burnt out.

[cameronspecial]

Let Me Try To Understand, Angel

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Being Stressed About School and Burnt Out

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.6K

Summary: Y/N isn't acting like she normally does and Rafe is on a mission to help her out.

Masterlist

As their first semester as sophomores comes to an end, Rafe has noticed the way that Y/N has been withdrawing from the world. He has been trying everything to get her to come out with him, but each text is met with a simple no thank you. Instead of anger filling him, worry is the only thing that Rafe can feel. He hasn’t been in her dorm often because his private room in the frat house is more intimate for them. He quietly knocks on the door, waiting for someone to let him in. Very little light from the room spills into the hallway. Y/N’s hair looked a little greasy, so she threw it up into a bun. She is wearing a large oversized hoodie with sweatpants that are just a little too big for her. Her eyes are droopy and she looks like her soul has been sucked out of her body. The smile that normally spreads across her face doesn’t appear and this tells Rafe that something is wrong. “Angel, are you okay? You haven’t been answering my text,” he questions, stepping closer to her with his hands reaching for her shoulder. She uncharacteristically steps away from his hold, “Yeah, I’ve been busy.” She doesn’t add anything to her statement. 

“Oh. Well, maybe I can just hang out in your room right now. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you,” he offers, hands falling to his side. She shakes her head, trying to push him out the door, “Rafe, I really don’t want to be around anyone right now. Can you go?” “I will, but I can tell something is wrong. Your room is so dark. It’s not like you,” he confesses. 

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Then let me try to understand, Angel. I can’t do that if you try to push me away. Maybe, I can help or I can just listen.”

At the offer of having someone to vent to, a huge weight feels like it is being lifted off of her shoulders. She collapses into his arms and buries her head into his chest. “I just feel so burnt out. Everything I have to do, even the smallest of tasks, takes so much out of me. I haven’t read a page of my book since last week. I’m just going through the motions of life. I don’t think I can do this anymore, Rafe,” she rants to him. His hand smoothes down her hair and he kisses her temple, “I’m so sorry, you are feeling this way. What can I do to help lighten your load? Do you want me to pay someone to do the rest of your assignments? Because I will. I will do anything to help you.” She lets out a snotty giggle with a shake of her head, “No, no. I can get through my own assignments. But do you think I can stay at your house for a few days and can we take a shower together?” This would be something new to them. She stays at his house a lot, but she only sleeps over every other day. This would be the first time she slept more than two nights in a row at his house. “I just need to be with you,” she adds in a whisper. He kisses her head, “Of course, you can stay as long as you want. Why don’t you take a really quick power nap? I’ll pack your stuff up for you.”

As she watches her boyfriend get her stuff into bags, she can’t help but be grateful that she met someone as caring and loving, whose attention is always on helping her well-being. 

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @queen-shadow22 @victory-in-the-llama

[a-edgar-allan-hoe]

Wild Horses

Part 3

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Doctor!Reader, other characters x reader

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 4

A/N: Part 3 is finally here y’all! Sorry it took such a while to finally upload, I have been extremely burnt out and needed some time to recharge after completing my semester. Therefore I have made this chapter extra long! Also sorry if it in any way feels rushed, I tried to get this posted as soon as possible since it has long been due. Let me know if you would like some more dynamics between the reader and the other characters. As always, comments and reblogs are much appreciated, I love hearing y'alls thoughts and things that you enjoyed! (Also this chapter contains a surprise guest!) 💜💜💜

Summary: Imagine being the new physician assigned to the team and a certain masked individual takes a new keen concealed interest in you. The two of you are too awkward to function.

Warnings and notes: language, violence, blood and gore, fluff, angst, slow-burn, slight implication of past abuse.

(Quick Disclaimer: I am not a doctor nor have any professional knowledge or experience involving surgical procedures. I am just a student studying in the medical field who has just started taking courses that are more degree-related. So I apologize if some of the stuff may be inaccurate.)

🍂That night, the same night Ghost saw you on that roof, your face illuminated by the stars and the moon that seemed to pale in comparison to you, he had returned to his own quarters as stealthily as he had came. His presence had always gone unnoticed both to you and the others at this time of night, a time of night when even the nightingales had laid down to rest, exhausted from their song. When he settled himself in bed that night, his torso covered by his blanket and his arm propped up on the pillow to rest under his head, he could not sleep, staring at the ceiling just as he did the night before. His body begged for a moment’s rest, anything to let his consciousness slip away in order to escape the reality of this world in which only sleep could provide. But in spite of the efforts of his nervous system, his mind contested for a few more minutes of wakefulness, moments that would only turn into hours.

🍂There was always this unspoken battle within Simon Riley, a battle of peace and conflict, a constant struggle between giving in to the comforts of life and leaving everything behind, or preoccupying himself with his current line of work that seemed to be the only thing that kept his thoughts at bay. But starting a new life? That was something that was not cut out for him. His past was and will always be his present and his future. Society had no place for people like Simon Riley, and he it. I’m telling you, this man needs therapy, bad. And one hell of a vacation.

Never in a day of his miserable life did he know you would be thrown into the mix. You, a woman of better upbringing, a woman so delicate and blinded with hope, a woman who shared the warmth of her spirit with all whom she knew. And yet, here she was, wasting her time away in a place with the likes of them, where war consumed every living soul that ever crossed its path. God were you naïve, and completely fucking daft, he had thought to himself many times, a doctor like you leaving the hospital in the city for a place like this. Jesus. Either you were a complete fool or the military offered you a shit ton of money. Or perhaps it was your youth. After all, you were younger than the rest of them. He believed a woman of your degree should not be here amongst men like them. You were soft, tried too hard to see the good in people, and one day, one day, that might be your downfall.

Sometimes he’d find himself hoping you would transfer somewhere else. And the more he thought on the subject, the more he came to despise you being here, part of the reason why he avoided you in the first place. And yet, as the days went by, the man had developed a bit of a soft spot for you as they might say. But don’t tell him that or else he might just loose another one of his knives. Truth of the matter was, he had seen what war had done, even to the best of people. And with no disrespect, a young woman like you would get eaten up alive in a place like this.

And as much as he hated to admit it, he did not want to see you wound up in this chaos. So what would he do? He'd often times monitor your activity, and by that I mean he would on some occasions check up on you, in his own avoidant way of course, whether it be making sure you woke up by standing around the corner to see you trudge along to the coffee maker in your white coat, or catching you finish your shift when you left your office in the evening. By this time, you'd be surprised to know that he has grown familiar with part of your schedule, from when you leave your room and make yourself a cup of coffee in the morning before heading into your office, to what time you have your little lunch, down to the hour of the evening when you leave your office after your shift has ended. He calls it "running a constructive operation", but you and I both know what it is. Despite his cold, masked exterior, he's not completely heartless and does want to make sure you're safe, as with the rest of his teammates.

At the same time, your safety also depends on your environment, and there is only so much a few men can do. Perhaps it would be best if you were somehow convinced to go back to the states and leave, lest this place will end up devouring every last bit of vibrancy that radiated in you. And if that meant being callous towards you and making your time here a living hell, as if you did not belong, so be it. I know it sounds like he absolutely loathes you but I promise it only seems that way.

The man obviously has trouble sleeping, which was nothing new to him, a good nights rest was something of a rarity in his case. But now it was you he found inhabiting the walls of his mind, and frankly, he found it to be quite a nuisance. And as if to make matters worse, tonight it was your voice that haunted his thoughts, that siren-like voice that rung out softly underneath the pale moonlight as if he were a sailor awaiting to plummet to his death down into the abyss of the deep indigo waters below.

He needed sleep, desperately, and if he did not get it soon he might just go insane. That’s to say he isn’t already. And despite finding you to be the cause of the whole ordeal behind it, behind him not being able to shut his eyes and fall into a short-lived coma, you were still the only doctor here and just how was he supposed to go about that. Usually people go to doctors if they have trouble sleeping, but how the fuck was he supposed to go to you. He couldn’t just walk in your office and ask if you had anything strong enough to knock him out. Sure there was always alcohol but that meant dealing with a hangover and you most likely sending him a pamphlet about the dangers of alcoholism without even knowing like some kind of psychic. On the other hand, knowing how you were, if he were to mention his symptoms you would just ask him a bunch of questions. And then what was he supposed to say? That he couldn’t sleep because you tormented and occupied his thoughts??? Never. He decides it’s better to just deal with it.

And boy oh boy your singing did not help. You reminded him of the nightingales that used to nest in the tree outside his bedroom window in his childhood home. You and your guitar, singing your song out into the night for someone out there, whomever and wherever they were. The song and your voice an empty promise, a false hope for the things that never were and never might come. And yet, despite his slight demurral towards you, in the days to come, he came to find comfort in your voice, his feet finding their way to the rooftop to see if you would be there.

On the nights that you were there, he would sit against the wall away from your line of sight, hidden in the shadows and listening to your voice, the only thing that kept him sane and dare say, even bring him an ounce of peace. He would say it was to make sure you don’t pull anything stupid or draw unnecessary attention towards yourself. But truth was, though he could not see it within himself, maybe he was watching over you, making sure no harm came your way. Little would he know, that your voice and the serenity of your aura would soon come to remind him of home, of the days where it was just him and his mother and the nightingales perched on the tree outside his bedroom window, the sound of your voice lulling him to a much needed sleep that his body craved.

Now back to the current.

That next morning you had woken up from the sun shining down on your face, its rays hot against your cheeks as you squinted against the bright light, pulling your blanket over your head with a groan before bolting upright, eyes widened with alarm. Oh shit, what time was it? You look at the watch on your wrist, eyes widening even more to see that it was NOON????? It's fucking noon?

"Fucking shit." You let out a string of curses between your teeth, grabbing your things off the floor only to get up with a gasped groan from the sharp needle-like sensations that shot up your spine, your back hunched over like a shrimp with kyphosis. You wince, hissing as you attempt to straighten yourself out, letting out a couple ows from the cracking sound that came out from between your vertebrae. Boy were you an idiot. Never sleep on cement, now your hips and back feel like they were broken in by the Hulk and you're willing to bet there would be bruises.

You could have sworn you looked like one of those grandmas depicted in the cartoons, wincing almost each time you took a step. A frown pulled on your lips as you headed towards the door that led back to the building, opening it up and nearly whining at the sight of the stairs spanning out below you. "Fuck my life."

You make sure to take your time going down, not wanting to tumble down the steps and risk a broken limb or concussion only to have one of the men patch you up and risk getting an infection. It's not that you don't trust their handiwork......but you don’t. And the thought of having your prefrontal cortex accidentally removed shakes you to your core. Don't tell them that though, you'd probably hurt their feelings.

"Y/n." You hear someone calling your name in the distance, turning your head to see Price heading in your direction.

God damn it, out of all the people to see you in this state. Don't tell anyone but Price is your workplace crush. I mean if we're being honest the whole team is fine as hell. But you loved his snarky sense of humor, his kind eyes and smile, and the way his eyes seemed to disappear into these curved crescent-shaped lines whenever he smiled or laughed. And now as he stood in front of you, his bulky frame towering over yours. You're praying there aren’t any spots of snot on your face from the way you bawled your eyes out last night.

"Oh fuck me." You inaudibly curse under your breath, knowing damn well that to hope he doesn't notice how you literally look a sleep-deprived Quasimodo would be damn near impossible.

"Where've you been? I was beginning to get worried." Price asks, looking over your hunched state that oddly paired with your puffy eyes and face. "Jesus Mary Joseph. Are you alright?"

"Yup, it's just allergies." You nod your head with a strained smile. "Perfectly peachy."

"Do you need any help?"

"Nope! I'm fine." You hurry past him. "I'm going to take a shower so whoever is in there right now tell them to hurry up."

Price watches you go with furrowed brows, wondering whatever the hell happened to you before shaking his head with a shrug and heading towards the showers to make sure it was empty for you. During your time there, the team had sorted out to give you a designated time slot for when you preferred to bathe, wanting to ensure that you received your privacy because of there only being shared showers, something which was common with being in the military. They had even given your own designated shower head. But even then, you always went in and came out fully dressed with both your towels and your clothes, terrified with the idea of the men seeing you in nothing but a towel once you stepped out. Luckily for you, no one was in there when you had arrived. When you hurried in there with your fresh pair of clothes and towels bundled in your arms, that had to be the quickest shower you had ever taken, other than the times you almost slept through your alarms and missed your exams back in med school.

So by the time you step out of your room with your white coat, empty coffee mug in hand and your hair barely brushed through looking like Dr. Emmet Brown, you don't even bother to put on any makeup or concealer to hide the fact that you had been crying last night, you already had a late start to the day as it was.

Going over to the kitchen, you groggily place your mug on the counter, staring at the pasty tiles for a good minute to gather your thoughts and remember just what it was your were doing in the first place before turning on the coffee maker only to see that it isn't working. "You have got to be kidding me." Honest to god if I don't have coffee in the morning I will commit a felony.

"There's no use meddling with that." Price comes up beside you, watching the way you moved the small machine around and smacked the sides with your palms. "I'm afraid it's broken."

"Broken?" You turn to the older gentleman, trying your best to mask your annoyance at yet another misfortune to add to your list of shit that happened today so you don't get written up for having an attitude or whatever it is they do here for uncompliant personnel. "What do you mean it's broken?" What you mean to say is, how the hell are you going to get through the day without your daily dose of caffeine? You were not in the mood for a caffeine withdrawal, not now.

"You'll have to blame MacTavish for that." Damn this man just threw him under the bus no hesitation.

"Soap? How?”

"Bloke put the coffee grounds where the water is supposed to go."

"He put the.......what?" You squint with a scrunch of your nose, trying to picture the young Scotsman mixing up the steps for the coffee grounds and water before pinching the bridge of your nose with a shake of your head. It's too damn early for this. Bitch it's literally the afternoon.

“You look like shite.” Price teases you of your completely disheveled appearance. Honestly he thinks you look pretty cute in a I just had 15 shots of espresso and forgone a whole week’s worth of sleep kind of way. Price is the type of man to see you at your worst looking like a corpse from the grave and dig it, with some concern for your overall health and well-being of course.

“Gee thanks.”

“You sure you’re all right?”

“Happier than a kid at Disneyland.” You roll your eyes before slipping out a small groan, burying your head in your arms upon the counter and muttering something along the lines of how you’re going to euthanize yourself.

“Oi. There’ll be none of that, you hear?”

“Wait and see.” You mumble to yourself but Price hears it anyway.

“Cheer up. I got you something.” You hear Price say to you before hearing something being placed on the counter.

"Is it benzoylmethylecgonine?" You mumble out.

"What?"

"Benzoylmethylecgonine." Your voice is louder this time but still muffled from your arms.

"The fuck is that?"

".................cocaine."

"Jesus Mary Joseph." Price rolls his eyes. “You’re a character, you. Why don’t you give it a look eh?”

You slightly lift your head from your arms, peering over to see a cup next to you.

"For ya." Price smiles as he pushes the cup towards you, watching you stare at the thing with skepticism.

"Well. Go on."

"Is that-?"

"Coffee.”

"Yeah I know that but-“ you lift yourself up to stare at the thing with a tilt of your head. “where the hell did you get it?”

"From a small coffee shop down a couple blocks."

Right. "What kind is it?”

"Iced caramel macchiato. Heard you mentioning it the other day."

"Oh. You did?” You blink. "You didn't have to do all that."

"Eh it's nothin, my treat. The men and I needed our caffeine too, and well, since Soap broke the machine, we needed to get it one way or another.” All but Simon of course. Dude hates coffee.

“What, did you tell him he's buying?"

“No.” Price leans back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest as he stares off into the distance in thought. “Now that I think about it I should’ve, aye?”

"Poor Soap." You shake your head with a chuckle, grabbing the cup to take a sip. “Oh......oh that hit the spot.”

Okay remember when the boys were competing with giving you little gifts and I said that Price showed his appreciation for you in other ways? This is what I mean. He makes sure you’re taken care of and that your little needs and requests are met. Though rare as composed to Soap's little visits, he likes to stop in your office at times, peeking his head through your cracked door and asking if there is anything you need. This man’s love language is acts of service, I’m sure of it.

“Proper innit.” Price chuckles at your blissed expression.

“Hm. Chef’s kiss.” You take another sip of your coffee as you lean back against the counter, savoring in the cold, smokey, buttery liquid as it went down your throat.

“The hell is on your feet.” Price nods towards your shoes.

“They’re my crocs.” You give a hurt look, the ends of your lips pulled into a frown.

“They’re downright hideous.”

“They’re comfortable!!!” You defend. “I even put little buttons on it.” You lift one of your feet up to show him.

“Doesn’t make it any less hideous.”

"You should try looking in a mirror first before you come talking to me about what's hideous and what's not." You snark, a teasing tone in your voice that catches the older man off guard.

Price is stunned, mouth slightly agape as he is surprised to see such a statement come from a person as demure as you, and dare say even aroused, at being affronted by someone smaller than him. "You cheeky girl." Price shifts his weight, pressing his tongue against his molars before tightening his jaw. "You've got a sharp tongue on you."

"Don't insult my crocs." You lift your chin with a raised brow, a smug expression on your face as you lift your coffee cup to your lips.

As Price and you talked, Ghost had appeared in the far corner, his eyes lowered to the ground and not a single thought behind them before hearing the sound of Price's voice. Stopping in his tracks, he peers around the corner, not wanting to look conspicuous but also curious to see who it was the captain was speaking to, looking over to see the two of you together engaged in a conversation looking a bit too comfy.

The soldier froze, tensing at the sound of you laughing and Price……flirting? Was the man flirting with you? Ghost watched the way Price leaned in ever so slightly in your direction, a slight yet noticeable shift in his demeanor as he told you a joke, the way your cheeks swelled as you snorted, your smile hidden behind the cup held in your hands in an attempt to hold back a laugh, and the way he reached a hand out to adjust the collar of your white coat. He is not jealous he is not jealous he his not jealous. Once again, HE IS NOT JEALOUS. Looking away from the scene, he turned back around and headed back to where he came. He had no reason to feel threatened by the situation, it’s not like he felt anything towards you or if you meant anything to him. And yet, why did it irk him to see you laughing with Price like that.

That was the first he had heard you laugh, though as light and brief as it was. He could tell it wasn’t your true full-hearted laugh, the ones that left you gasping for air as tears welled up at the corner of your eyes. He had seen those laughs many times at the pub from the groups of friends that gathered together after a long day of work or when they had just left from a futbol match, times when he craved a glass of whisky. The laugh you had let out right now wasn’t one of those full chested laughs, this one was different, more timid, like fresh rain in the middle of spring, where fog blanketed and seeped through the meadows and trees, where dewdrops patterned themselves like mosaics upon the blades of grass and the petals of roses. This laugh was light and airy, crisp to his ears, and it had sent a slight shiver down the stone-hearted soldier that he had never once felt before.

He convinces himself that what he saw between the two of you was none of his concern and that who you fancy is none of his business, and yet why did he find your little interaction with Price to bother him? Better yet, why does he find himself wishing he had made you laugh instead?

It should also be mentioned that Ghost did not fulfill the task he had promised himself when he said he would throw away the Dum Dum lollipops you had given him last night, thinking your little form of bribery to be quite inane. What did you take him for, a child? Regardless of the many times he stared at those two pieces of candy with your little note next to them, your graceful and sophisticated handwriting a strange polarity to the bright and colorful wrapped candy often meant for children, curiosity had gotten the best of him, as well as midnight cravings.

And alas, with numerous stealing glances toward the lollipops and his mouth watering for just a quick sample, the man had given in. And let’s just say, he’s addicted. I mean, I was not lying when I said this man has the sweet tooth of Augustus Gloop. Also, he may or may not have snuck into your office the next morning to steal a lollipop or two, or three, before rushing out the door. So you should probably hide the those things before you walk in on an empty tray one day.

"Also, I wanted to let you know that Alejandro, Ghost, and Soap and I will be heading out on a mission later today. Gaz will be staying behind just to make sure nothing happens here while we're away." Price informs you.

"What time will you be back?"

"Not till late. If everything runs smoothly, there's no need to wait up for us."

“Geez. Will it be dangerous?” Your brows furrow at the center. You knew what their job entailed, but that didn’t stop you from worrying.

“Well that’s part of our job now innit.” Price smirks.

"Just………make sure to come back in one piece alright. I'm not trying to perform any amputations today." You scrunch your nose in a teasing manner, though your words mean more than what your voice gives away.

"Don't you worry that pretty little head of yours. We'll be back like before aye.” Price gives you a comforting smile, bringing his hand up to brush his thumb and forefinger against the bottom of your chin before dropping it back down at his side. Though the action was small and brief, an informal unveiling of the captain’s fondness towards you, that didn’t stop your face from heating up faster than a hot pocket in the microwave. You were sure one would burn their hands if they grazed your cheek.

The others had soon cluttered into the area where you were, chatting amongst themselves before turning towards you and price, the sudden group of movement causing you to clear your throat and step just the slightest inch away.

"Hey doc." The men greeted you, their faces brightening upon seeing you before glancing down at your bright crocs.

"The fuck are those?"

"Oh my god. Don't tell me you guys have never seen crocs before." You exhale, your voice coming out in a scoff.

"Why are they called crocs?" Soap questions, brows furrowed with confusion. You and me both Soap, I don't have a clue either.

"Looks like something my abuela would wear." Alejandro comments, a mischievous glint in his eyes at teasing you.

“Que te folle un pez (get fucked by a fish).”

Alejandra is stunned from the words that just came out from your lips, cocking his head back and tilting it as he looked at you with surprised amusement. He never knew you spoke Spanish. Maybe it came with being a doctor and being around people all the time. On top of that, was this the first time he had heard you curse? Was that a stroke of confidence he heard from your mouth? Was he offended? Was he turned on? He couldn’t tell.

But as Alejandro still stood there, silent against your remark, the others begin to wonder just what it was that you said that had him like this.

“Uh what’d she say?” Soap leans over to whisper to Alejandro, his eyes darting between the two of you as did the other men.

“Ahora, ¿dónde aprendiste una cosa así, eh? (Now where did you learn such a thing, huh?)” Alejandro nods his head towards you, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Conoces gente de todo tipo cuando eres médico. Y además, el idioma era parte de mi plan de estudios de todos modos. (You meet all kinds of people when you're a doctor. And besides, language was part of my curriculum anyway.)” You shrug your shoulders, taking a sip of your coffee as your eyes meet Alejandro’s dark ones over the lid of your cup.

Alejandro chuckles, pointing at you with a smirk. “Bueno, será mejor que tengas cuidado cariño. Palabras como esa pueden meterte en problemas. (Well, you'd better be careful, sweetheart. Words like that can get you in trouble.)”

“No te preocupes por mí. Soy una niña grande Me licencié y todo. (Do not worry about me. I'm a big girl. I’ve got a degree and all.)”

“What are they saying?” Soap asks again, this time to Gaz.

“How would I know?” Gaz hisses, obviously annoyed with not knowing what the two of you were conversing about. Were the two of you planning a date? Were you plotting a scheme? Were you making fun of the rest of the team? The boys definitely didn't like being left out from a conversation, especially from you.

“I didn’t know you can speak Spanish.” Soap turns to you.

“Well it seems here that our little doctora is full of surprises.” Alejandro comments, making you roll your eyes with a shake of your head.

“Right.” Gaz squints at you in a jest, adding on to the men poking fun at you. “Now really doc, what the fuck is on your feet?”

"Oh screw y'all, they're comfy for my feet alright." You roll your eyes at the way they tease you about your choice of footwear, though in all honesty, you're not able to hide the smile that tugs at the ends of your lips, that is until a certain someone appears.

Ghost is the last one to show up, hoping to have avoided your presence. But when he sees you still there leaning against the counter, his eyes lock with yours before looking away as if you had never even existed in the first place.

You're almost sure he hates you, chewing on the inside of your cheek from the way he looked you over like a speck of dirt on his boot before completely ignoring your being. You have no clue why he is the way he is around you, wondering if he had seen the note you left on his door. He has to have seen it right? He’s got to. And then it hits you, at least you think. Maybe your little detail of adding the lollipops had offended him, and you’re almost terrified to think what he thought of them. On top of that, he still had never bothered to show up for his blood results. So he truly was avoiding you on purpose, wasn’t he. You wish you knew the reason behind his avoidant behavior. Did he find you disgusting? Was that a possible reason? Had you somehow at some point offended him? Were you going to end up on his hit list? Maybe. Were you going to die some mysterious death by his hands tonight? Sounds likely.

“Alright you lot. Let’s get moving.” Price gestures the men to follow him before turning back to you. “We won’t be long. Gaz, you know the rules.”

“Yessir.” Gaz nods his head before stepping over to you, looking down at you drinking your coffee with a soft smile on his face. “I’m sure this day will go by smoothly.”

“Oof. Don’t jinx it.”

You wish he had not said those last words.

You had spent most of the day relaxing as Price had suggested when the men left, their gear strapped to their forms and their guns locked and loaded. A strange scene I might add, if one were to walk into the area of the building and see a group of bulky hardened soldiers and then you, a young woman in a white coat and scrubs and her special decorated crocs along with her vintage Donald Duck watch. You almost looked out of place with the war-ridden atmosphere.

When you had stepped into your office the first time that day, you were surprised to see a slight change in your usual environment, the lack of an apple at your desk. This absence, though small and what one might call insignificant, had saddened you to a certain degree. Though at first you found the little act to be annoying, of finding the red fruit there every morning placed upon your desk, as time went by, you had grown accustomed to it a bit. So when you noticed the absence of the apple after expecting to see it just like the days before, it had lowered your spirits. Though you did not know the meaning or intention behind the gesture or the person directly involved behind it, it had come to bring you a sense of security, a slight token of someone’s watchful eye over you. Or at least that’s what you believed it to be. Little did you it was just a simple act involving the confusion of idioms.

But imagine your confusion when in place of the lack of an apple, you instead find your tray of lollipops looking a little less full than it was yesterday. Had someone broken into your office or were you just loosing your mind. And as you inspect the little tray, you're even more surprised to find a distinct black, powdery substance smeared against the side of it, right on the edge. Using your thumb, you wipe it off the side of the tray, raising your hand to further inspect the foreign substance to see that it looks a lot like eyeshadow.

"Huh. That's strange."

Ooooooo someone just got caught.

With the men gone, all except Gaz of course, you went about reading more chapters of your book, lounging about on the couch in the common area before your nerves got the better of you and you decided to do some cleaning around the area, to which Gaz had offered some help, with much eagerness in his end. Gaz of course had kept watch, letting you lead the conversations as the two of you made small talk every once in a while before going back to your little tasks, you with your paperwork and inventory of medical supplies and Gaz with his patrol.

During the moments where the two of you did talk, you began to unravel little details about each other, details mostly involving Gaz since you still preferred to keep your walls up. You called it being professional, but those who were close to you would call it a fear to let others in. Perhaps they were right. After your father’s death, you had rarely let anyone in, sometimes not even your own self. And Gaz, being the sweet soul that he was, never pressured you to reveal anything you did not want to. He wouldn’t ask about your personal life or your past unless you offered to.

The more the two of you talked, the more you learned little things about the soldier that you never knew, like his love of the ocean and how he had wanted to become a marine biologist when he was a little boy, as well as how his favorite sea creatures were, and still are, sea otters and sea turtles. He had even mentioned how his favorite movie was Nemo growing up, with Crush being his favorite character. In fact, the movie was what inspired him to study in that field in the first place. He was extremely almost embarrassed to release that bit of info to you, scared that you might pass it on to the team and that he’d never hear the end of it. When that little bit of information slipped from his tongue, he practically begged you not to tell the others. So imagine his relief when you stick your pinky out in an offer to make a pinky promise on it. You honestly find it kind of cute.

As time dragged on and when the day had become night, when the sun had long passed the horizon to lay to rest, you had grown quite weary waiting for the men to return, and oh was there a sight waiting for them to behold once they did. Your little act of cleaning around the house had drained a good amount of your energy, eventually causing you to crash out on the couch with your head resting against Gaz’s shoulder. Your legs were curled up on the cushion of the sofa, your book placed open on your lap after Gaz had asked if you could read to him, curious about the story within the binding. But the late hour combined with the cleaning around had pulled a yawn from your chest as you read the pages out loud, your voice low and muzzy and your words drawling out as your eyes scanned the printed letters before another yawn escaped your lips, and another, then another, before everything became blurry and you slowly drifted off to a deep sleep.

Even Gaz, who was supposed to stay watch, had fallen asleep beside you, his head thrown back on the back of the couch and his mouth slightly parted as soft little snores escaped it. He was never one to fall asleep on duty, known for his control over his mental fortitude. But the poor soldier had soon followed suit, infected by by your fatigue as he too yawned after each time you did. In that time, he smiled down softly as he watched you grow tired next to him, resting your head unconsciously on his shoulder and chuckling at the sight of the thin line of drool that slipped from the corner of your mouth.

He almost felt relieved, and comforted to see this side of you, after having seen you do nothing but shove your nose into paperwork and files on top of staying on guard to take care of them and make sure no serious injury happens on your watch. And as he watched you, making sure to stay as still as possible as to not wake you, your soft breathing and the warmth radiating off your body had finally pulled him in, until eventually, his state of alertness fell limp, his head rolling back as he too drifted off shortly after you.

You don’t know long you had been asleep, nor did you know you had your face smushed up against Gaz’s shoulder, your lips parted slightly and your drool pooling into a wet spot on the fabric of his jacket. If you did, you don’t think you’d be able to look him in the eye from how embarrassed you’d be. Not only did you most likely cause his arm to cramp up and fall asleep under your weight, but you had also marked his shoulder with your saliva. And if the others were to see this, they would have a kick out of it, with Soap taking multiple pictures at unflattering angles and teasing the two of you for the days to follow. And in a short matter of time, they would have seen it, stumbling upon the scene if they had not burst through the front door like a team of SWAT.

The sound of the door slamming open and their shouts had startled you awake, their voices echoing through the front of the building and making you sit up in your seat.

“What the-“ you mutter out groggily, squinting against the dryness of your eyes and not even paying mind to how you had completely crashed out. Where they back?

“Sounds like trouble.” Gaz had also woken up next to you, quickly getting up from the sofa and rushing towards the commotion as you followed closely behind.

You almost froze at the scene, watching the men come into the area with their faces worn out and beaded with sweat and spots of blood. You knew what they were getting into, what their job required of them, yet seeing them return from the mission first hand had in some way unsettled you. Sure, you had worked in the ER during your residency. You had seen conditions far worse than this, patients suffering from injuries ranging of a varying degree as they were wheeled around, gruesome wounds that still at times scarred your memories till this day. And yet, why did this seem to daunt you far worse than anything you had seen in the emergency department. It's almost as if you forgot these men were killers, and you didn't quite know how to feel about that.

Alejandro had been the first to step into the area, carrying an injured Soap under his arm and helping the Scot walk next to him as he muttered some words of encouragement in Spanish.

“What-what happened?”

“Nada serio querida. No te preocupes. (Nothing serious love. Don't worry.)” Alejandro answers simply, groaning under Soap's weight and from his own injuries.

“Nada serio querida.” Soap copies what Alejandro had said with a limp in each of his steps, his face pale from the loss of blood from his wound as he gives you a smile to assure you that everything was in fact fine, though we all know this isn’t the case.

“Well it sure as damn well looks serious to me Alejandro.” You remark as you hurry over to help the man set Soap down carefully on a chair, your voice slipping the hint of your father’s accent, a small habit that revealed itself whenever you got upset over something. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't try to tread carefully around me, I'm not made of glass you know."

Alejandro fell quiet as he watched you try to examine Soap, taken aback by this more....authoritative side of you, not that he had any reason to be surprised, you were a physician after all and this sort of conduct was necessary especially since people's lives were in your hands. He had not intended to alarm or offend you, the reason why he said those words in the first place, but the situation itself had managed to speak much louder than his words could ever manage. And in this moment, maybe it's best to let you be in charge.

Your eyes scattered about the area as the others soon came through, focusing on each and every one of them to try to gauge both their mental and physical state. Ghost was the next to enter right after Price, his blackened eyes from behind his mask meeting your concerned ones for a brief and fleeting moment before looking away. The skull-masked soldier was supporting another man, another masked soldier you had not seen before, one whose stature towered over everyone around him, even Simon Riley himself, whom you have thought to be tall enough already. Y'all already know who it is.

“Sir-“ you spoke up to the troubled-looking captain as he walked up to you, your eyes studying the wounded and bloodied scene behind him. You don't know what the hell happened back there, but you didn't need to hear the details to know it wasn't good. “Is everything alright? The hell happened?”

“Y/n.” Price finally stood in front of you, his hand placed on your shoulder as means of reassurance, or even a way to steady his exhausted body as he turned back to his men, running his fingers through his beard before looking you in the eye. “We were ambushed. Suffered a few injuries but we got the most of em.”

“You sure? Y’all look like you took quite the beating.” You state lightheartedly but more so from a place of worry and sympathy. “Listen Captain, if you don't mind, I need to take a look at these men."

“Right. Right.” Price nods his head, breathless from the mission. His countenance was masked behind an aura of composure as he looked over his injured soldiers, but one look at his eyes told you otherwise. He was tense, nonetheless, and you could clearly see the restlessness behind them from the way he held responsibility over the lives of his men, believing himself to be accountable if any harm should come to them.

“Do you have any wounds I need to take a look at sir? Any trauma to the head? Any lacerations or punctures?"

“No. No, I’m fine.”

"It'll be alright." You give the man a comforting smile, placing a hand on his arm to provide the only means of consolation you can give him in a moment like this.

“Thank you.” Price returns your smile, placing his hand over yours and giving it a soft squeeze. Though he felt contrite for throwing such a burden on your shoulders, he knew that you were the only person qualified enough around here given the circumstances, and he could not be more grateful for your presence. "Just....let me know if you need any help."

"Of course."

The men were badly beaten from what you observed as you examined them. A few fresh bruises marked their bodies, nothing terribly serious, but Soap, Alejandro, and the new guy were the only ones who had sustained more serious injuries. MacTavish had taken a bullet to the thigh, but luckily for him, the bullet had missed his femoral artery as well as any major nerves in the area. The poor Scotsman had felt bad for disturbing you at such a late hour such as this. But you had reassured him time and time again that this was part of your job, and that you had read over the part of the contract that said you would mostly be on-call when you signed your name at the bottom.

Soap doesn't know why he was so on edge as you operated on him. He’s nervous, extremely nervous. And what does Soap do when he’s nervous? He talks, like a lot, like a lot a lot and I don’t mean that lightly. I mean this man just talks your ear off while you’re wiping away any excess blood on his thigh and practically knuckles deep into his bullet wound. This man had been shot before so why should this be any different. Was it the local anesthetic you had injected into him? Or was it because you were a practicing physician and therefore would be able to pinpoint the finer details and eventually break some kind of devastating news to him like "I hate to break this to you Soap but I'm afraid I'm going to need to perform an amputation." Also I genuinely believe this man is afraid of needles. Don't ask me how I know. I just know.

"Y/n." Soap speaks up, gulping from the question that is about to spill from his lips as he watches you disinfect his wound.

"Hm?" You hum, focused on cleaning the area where the bullet had lodged itself.

"Am I gonna loose my leg?"

"What?" You stop, raising your head to give him a weird look. "Where'd you get that idea?"

"Don' know. Ye look pretty serious..........................ya sure I'm not gonna loose my leg?" He asks again, the panic in his voice more evident this time as an image is generated in his mind of him having a wooden pegleg like some kind of pirate.

"No. No you're not going to loose your leg Soap. You're just fine.” You go back to mending his bullet wound. “If anything, you're just going to get a few stitches. I am going to have to leave the bullet in place though, so don’t fret.”

"Yer leavin the bullet in there?" Soap's face pales after hearing your statement, eyes wide as he stares at you like you’re some kind of lunatic.

“Don’t look at me like that. I can feel you staring at me like I’m crazy. The reason I’m leaving the bullet in your leg is because it’s not in a fatal area that needs removal, and it's going to do more damage than good if I take it out. And besides, your body will build a sort of......wall of scar tissue around it so you'll be fine.” You try to explain to him in a way he can understand.

“I will?”

"I promise. Now once I’m done here I'm going to prescribe you some antibiotics and pain relievers as well as an ointment to help with the healing process and keeping away infections. Just make sure to get some rest and go easy on that leg of yours and you'll be up and running in no time."

"Oh.....okay."

Poor Soap is still nervous, despite your words of consolation. So in order to ease the tension he decides to crack a few jokes, a trait that has become familiar with his teammates, much to their annoyance, whenever he's out on the field. Whether it's for his own welfare or yours, we may never know. Perhaps it’s for both, but let's just say it’s more so for his own sanity. And the way he jumps from one joke to another only makes you question how the previous medics ever sat through it.

"Did you hear about the restaurant on the moon?"

"No."

"Great food. No atmosphere."

"Jesus."

"..............Hey y/n."

"Yes Soap?" You’re pretty sure this is the 45th joke he’s told you so far and now you’re just concerned for his mental well-being. But you also want to know where the hell he got all of these jokes in the first place.

"Why do seagulls fly over the ocean?"

Oh god. "Why?" You ask, bracing yourself for whatever was about to come next.

"Because if they flew over the bay, we'd call them bagels."

Jesus fucking christ. At this point you're positive your eyes are going to pop out from your sockets from how hard you are trying to stop yourself from rolling them. "Soap-"

"Yeah?"

"Please hold still."

Alejandro on the other hand was especially quiet while you tended to his wound, a gash on the proximal part of his arm on the lateral end, just below the acromial region, left from the bullet that grazed it. If he did speak, it would be small little words of motivation, sprinkled with terms of endearment in Spanish as he told you how good of a job you were doing, which you thought to be a risky thing to do considering you were sticking a needle in his flesh to sew his wound shut. He'd even tell you short little stories about his life before here, some of which may have elicited a soft chuckle from your frowning lips, a stern look that always unconsciously formed on your face whenever you were focused on something. He finds your little look of concentration quite cute honestly, the way you'd sometimes pout and squint your eyes. But most of all, he admired how calm and collected you were at such a task, as if you were doing something as simple as stitching the seams of fabric together.

He tried his best to soothe you, seeing the strained look on your face and imagining the stress you must be under, knowing when it would be best to offer you silence so that you may focus on the work at hand. And when you were done suturing his wound and wrapping fresh gauze around his arm, he pulls you in to give you a warm hug, which catches you off guard since you’re still wearing nitrile surgical gloves spotted with his blood and practically reek of alcohol-based solutions and the bleach-like scent of antiseptics. Regardless of how you look and smell like chemicals, the man only pulls you in tighter, wrapping his uninjured arm around the top of your back with his hand squeezing the back of your shoulder as he thanks you in his native tongue.

The two of you stand there for a moment in this sort of half-embrace, Alejandro with just a single arm around you and you with your hands held out behind him with your face pressed up against his chest. Next thing you know he presses a kiss to the side of your head, which takes you even more by surprise. This man really does not care how you look or smell. You could be covered in saline solution and antibiotic ointment and he’d still think you were the most stunning woman to walk the earth.

Also, speaking of smell, Alejandro smells really good, despite the hint of gunpowder from the mission he just returned from. But to say you are obsessed with his cologne is an understatement. This man smells AMAZING. His scent is woodsy, and spicy, like tequila mixed in with cardamom and bergamot, with sharp hints of clove and peppers balancing over velvety floral notes. He smells like something out one of those cheesy racy romance novels where the romantic interest climbs up your balcony during a hot summer night to hand you a single rose before whisking you away under the stars for a night of passionate-cough cough-you know what I mean. It's almost sinful, erotic, luring you in to perform acts that would make Satan and the Pope seek counsel with each other. This sudden emotion causes this stir in the pit of your stomach, lighting your whole body in flames and you almost feel ashamed for wanting him to stay a while longer just so you can get another and longer whiff of him.

“You know chica, it’s been a long time since I’ve had a really good machaca." Alejandro pulls away from the embrace, looking down at you with a slight smirk.

“Why don’t you go get one?”

“Only if you agree to come along.”

You’re stunned, caught off guard, and you better come quick with a witty response or else you’re just going to look like a fool standing there blinking at him. "Are you asking me out on a date Vargas?" Wow. I haven’t heard that one before.

"Mm, maybe. There'll be good food."

Speak no more. I am bringing the church and a marriage license. “You know, now that you've mentioned it, I suppose I have been craving some spicy food for a while."

The new guy, who’s name you found to be König, was surprisingly polite, despite his intimidating size and aura. He was a bit reserved around you at first, the blues of his eyes from behind the loose fabric of his mask studying your features to try to get a sense of your character as a person. He had heard quite a lot about you from the others, mostly the way you were gentle and kind in nature. Yet he had trouble understanding how a person could be capable of providing peace, as the others explained it, but one word from your lips and a benevolent smile in his direction was enough to convince him.

Telling from his body language, you made sure to inform him about every measure you were going to perform for the procedure, wanting to ensure he was as relaxed as possible with what you were doing, something you took seriously with every one of the patients you ever had. And the more you spoke, asking him simple questions like beginning with his name and asking where he was from and what his hometown was like and how he was currently feeling, he eventually warmed up to you, partly because he thought you were really pretty, but also because you made him feel comfortable in a place he usually did not find comfort in. I mean this man is still a killing machine despite his social anxiety. Not to mention, this was the first time he had met you. So the fact that you look out for his own wellness first really puts him at ease.

The tall Austrian had suffered a gunshot wound to his abdomen, an area that would usually require more serious care. But thanks to his bulletproof vest, the bullet was prevented from puncturing any organs or cavities or any major blood vessels or nerves, passing through his layers of skin and reaching the adipose tissue and barely imbedding into the muscle of his abdomen. You of course were able to extract the piece of metal, injecting some anesthetic for the pain and disinfecting the area beforehand before using a pair of forceps to carefully pull the bullet out.

Though the man was slightly anxious around you, he didn’t want to pry to much on your behalf and end up offending you in any manner, especially with how quiet you were, minus the little questions you’d ask him of course. Instead, he is fascinated by your steady hands and your precision, wondering how hands as small and delicate as yours were capable of performing such complex labor as he asks questions about every step that you take into the procedure and every tool that you have laid out on your table. By the end, he is completely starstruck by just how much you know. He even may have slipped a little compliment on how wise and pretty your eyes were. You’ve never heard anyone compliment your eyes as being wise, but you like it, not being able to hold back the small smile that pulls at the corner of your lips.

“Thank you for your help……..liebling.”

“It’s no problem.” You smile. You had heard that German term once before, a word once exchanged between an elderly couple that were once under your care. And the fact of knowing the meaning behind it warms your heart.

“Du hast sehr schöne kluge augen. (You have very beautiful, intelligent eyes)." The soldier mutters under his breath, nearly catching himself at the end of the sentence and praying you had not heard nor understood what he said.

“Sorry?”

“Oh um…….." König gulps, thinking of how to respond and deciding whether he should just lie or tell the truth to behind the meaning of his words. "It means you have really pretty wise eyes.”

“Oh……..why thank you. That's really sweet."

After handing König a bag containing his antibiotics, pain killers, and a tube of ointment, you also hand him a couple Dum-Dum lollipops to go with it. The Austrian doesn’t know how to react at first. Did you just give him a candy? Was this a common practice of doctors in your country? When he finally realizes this was just your way of showing kindness, he is more than delighted and thanks you for them in German, grasping both of your hands as he does so. Don’t ask me why or how but I just feel like he likes to hold both of your hands whenever he thanks you for something. Also the more eager he is, the more he shakes your hands in his.

This man’s crush on you has just went to the next level. König likes to collect whatever catches his attention, something he had done since he was a child from time mostly spent by himself. And it’s almost as if he has an eye for these things, picking out whatever has unique colors or patterns. So when you find some wildflowers or interesting looking leaves or a variety of colorful bird feathers or butterfly wings that had fallen to the dirt on your desk one day, just know he picked them out for you whenever he goes on a mission.

Believe it or not, the Austrian also has a secret talent of wood carving and is actually very skilled at it. During the days where his anxiety seems to overwhelm and suffocate him, he likes to sit outside in the grass surrounded by nature, covered in wood shavings with a knife in hand as he makes little wooden figurines of animals that he sees, whether it be birds, deer, foxes, bunnies, squirrels or skunks. It’s the only thing that he can fixate on that brings him total serenity and nirvana, sitting amongst the grass with his back up against the trunk of a tree, where there isn’t a single soul in sight except for himself and the ones that belong in the woods, where the only things that can judge him are the tall ancient trees and the creatures that walk it. But I won’t get further into this till later. Just know that he’s working on one especially for you.

Now, moving on.

By the time you were finished patching the three men up, you cleaned up the area and your tools, taking off your bloody gloves and throwing them into the biohazard container until you see Ghost stumble by in the corner of your eye. Little did you know he had been watching you from afar, not in a creepy way but in a ‘just want to make sure my teammates are alright’ kind of way. Not that he doubts your expertise of course. The lieutenant had not expected the mission to go sideways as it did, even though it was somewhat accomplished in the end. And seeing his team get wounded had unlocked this new fear in him that, to some degree, had always been there.

So when he stood there in the corner, leaning against the wall and hidden in the shadows like typical old Ghost, he found a sense of relief in watching how quickly and proficiently you moved about and just how composed you were, especially under the pace and pressure. Maybe it’s how quiet you are when you get really focused on something, maybe it’s how calm you are throughout it, or maybe it’s the amount of caution and supervision you take towards making sure the others are treated with the utmost care. Truth be told, you are like a remedy to Ghost, to the Simon Riley underneath, to the troubles and trauma that mold the broken man beneath the mask. If only the big dummy were to realize this instead of treating you like as if you were the plague itself.

When you lift your head towards the sound of slight shuffling in the corner, you catch him moving out of the shadows and sneaking away from the area. Usually you wouldn’t think anything of it, thinking he was just overseeing your work like a supervisor. But as you watch him walk off, you notice that something is off about him, something not quite right, and this intuition only builds this deep and heavy bubbling in the pit of your stomach.

“Ghost?”

Ghost stops abruptly at the sound of your voice, his head ever so slightly tilted to the side as he was not expecting you to have seen him, much less even say something.

“Is everything alright?”

Goddamn you and your manners. The masked soldier moves away with the slightest huff, not wanting to answer your question but you call out once more.

“You’re not hurt are you?”

“Negative.” He begins to walk off, not even looking in your direction to acknowledge you.

“Lieutenant, could I please see you for a minute?”

“Another time.”

“I insist.” Your voice is more firm this time and it catches him by surprise.

He had not heard this tone from you before, and yet, he can sense the shakiness behind it, the uncertainty. The more there is silence on his end, the more you are sure that you have reached the expiration date of your life, terrified that you had officially provoked the stone-cold soldier and that he is about to march over here and stab you in the neck with your own scalpel any second now. And as he stands there, debating on whether he should just leave, he hears your voice once again, a faint ‘please’. Heaving out a heavy sigh, the man shuts his eyes for a brief moment before turning back around and heading in your direction.

You’re not sure if you should freeze up like the fresh-caught fish on a bed of ice at the supermarket or run in the opposite direction as this man walks towards you, his mask not helping in making him look any less more pissed off than usual. When he finally stands in front of you, his bulky form towering over yours, you can only do the first thing that comes to mind, freeze up. At first the masked soldier glares down at you, the irises of his eyes only darkened by the grooves of his mask as he waits for you to speak, wishing you were the first to say something, anything, but instead you’re staring at him like a deer caught in front of headlights. Don’t worry babes, I would too.

“Well? Whadya want?”

“I just want to check to make sure you’re not injured-“

“I feel fine.” Ghost narrows his eyes at you, slowly becoming irked by your constant need to monitor his well-being and wishing you would just take his word and leave. But he knows better than to argue with someone that was literally tasked by the government to manage the sanity and wellness of task force 141. Was your etiquette a part of the job requirements as well?

“You don’t look fine.” You snark.

“Yeh?” Ghost sneers. “And who the hell are you to say that?”

“I’m a doctor.” You blink. “Or if you wanna be more specific, I'm technically your doctor. It’s my job. And telling from the dampness of the blood on your mask there that still has not dried since the moment you stepped trough the doors and god knows how long since before,” you point to the area near the bottom of the left side of his neck, more so near his shoulder. “I’m guessing it’s yours and not someone else’s.”

“The fuck are you on about? Listen here princess, there’s no-“ Ghost pulls his hand up to his neck only to feel the exact same dampness you had just mentioned. Fuck. He had been so caught up with everything around him that he had not even been aware that he had been injured. When he finally pressed his fingers to the area there, tensing from the pain, that was when he was finally able to register through that thick and stubborn skull of his that he had in fact been injured this whole time. This man probably takes the phrase ‘mind over matter’ quite literally.

“Now can I please take a look at you?” You quirk a brow up at him, waiting for a response and knowing better than to expect a quick answer. But if there’s one thing you know, if you just slightly annoy and pester him enough, he might just eventually cave in, that is if he doesn't add you to his hit list. “Look, if you wait any longer you might pass out and go into hemorrhagic shock. And depending on the class, you can suffer from organ damage and even death. So unless you want that to happen-“

Well when you put it like that- “Fine. Get on with it.” Ghost growls as he sits himself down on the chair. Bloody fucking hell you talk way more than he had ever expected from you. But you sure can keep your ground, he'll give you that. He’s just glad that none of the others are here to see him being bossed around by someone almost half his size and about a foot shorter than him.

"Thank you for cooperating." You give a short and quick smile. You may or may not have exaggerated about the last part to get him to comply. Well…….that is.........depending on the exact location of injury and the amount of blood loss of course.

Thank you for cooperating. Ghost scoffs at your statement.

“You know……I wish you wouldn’t avoid me like I were a crackhead outside your local 7-eleven.”

A what? Ghost gives you a weird look, wondering if he had heard you correctly as you go over to the sink, rolling the white sleeves of your lab coat up and turning on the faucet. The shit that comes out of your mouth, he swears makes him question your license. Then again, he’s not sure how to respond to what you had just said. It's no lie that he has indeed been going out of his way to avoid you at all costs. But the idea of you even noticing his absence had never even crossed his mind, much so that you would come to be offended by it. Noticing your lack of pressing further on the matter, he shifts in his seat, watching you wash your hands in a methodical series of steps until he notices a small marking on your inner right wrist, a small and delicate tattoo of a heartagram. It can't be.......can it? He had never listened to much of their music but.......were you a HIM fan? If so, this is certainly a detail he had never expected from you and he almost doesn't know what to think of it. What other tattoos do you have?

Once he sees you turn off the faucet, he quickly returns to his original position on the chair, not wanting to make it seem like he was watching you.

"Now I’m just going to take a quick look here." You head over to where he sat, pulling the nitrile gloves over your hands as you look down at him, reaching out towards the bottom of his balaclava before feeling him swat your hand away.

“Hey!” You yelp, more so from being startled than the actual impact. “The hell was that for?” No way in hell he just did that.

“…………….”

"I promise I won't sneak a peak at your face if that's what you're afraid of."

“……………………..”

“Listen lieutenant. I can’t check to see if you’re okay if you won’t let me.” You sigh, reaching out once more, but this time you feel his hand grab yours, his gloved fingers wrapping around the bare skin of your wrist as he eyes the ground at his feet. The loud beating in your chest reaches your ears, deafening you as you stare at the soldier who could practically fracture your wrist if he tightened his grip. At this point most would be petrified, bracing themselves for the number of possibilities that can take place just from under his control. Most would either try not to glance over at the scalpel that lays out on the table just beside within arms reach, not wanting to instigate anything further in fear of the soldier catching the movement of their eyes, or some would dare to do so anyways as part of their fight or flight response.

Maybe you should be scared of him, of this soldier who has more blood on his hands than you can count. And yet, somehow, as you finally regain control of your thoughts after being startled from the sudden motion, you can’t seem to find yourself to. If he wanted to kill you, you’d already have been dead, you tell yourself, because here you are, well and unharmed. Despite the calloused disposition of the man notorious for his ruthlessness and merciless on the field and just the sheer size of his hand around your wrist, you’re surprised at the gentleness he handles you with, the carefulness of his hold a stark contrast to the rough fabric of his gloves that rub against the sensitive skin there.

Ghost can feel you tremble ever so slightly under his grasp, feeling your racing pulse through his gloves from under his palm, not to mention the peculiar coldness of your limb, but he can also feel the severity behind your eyes as you stare him down, as if you were just waiting for him to meet them. For a flicker of a moment, you have him wondering just how much more there is to you than the Dr. Y/n y/l/n that you put on stage only for others to see. Just what else lies beyond the pristine white lab coat, those neatly pressed scrubs and your observant orbs.

“Ghost-“ Your voice is firm but heedful. “Please let go of my wri-“

"I'll do it."

“What-“

“I said I’ll do it. You’re not touching the mask.”

“Alrigh-”

“I mean it.” He lets go of your wrist as quickly as he grabbed it.

"Okay." You throw your hands up in defeat, taking a step back to give him some room. "Fine by me."

Ghost can't help but huff at your behavior, hesitating for a moment before finally lifting the bottom of his balaclava, peeling away the fabric that had become sticky with blood to expose his neck. Damn you.

"Let's see here." You lean in closer to inspect the area before cursing under your breath. “Jesus fucking christ.”

Ghost side-eyes you with a raised brow at the words that came out of your mouth. Did he just hear you cuss? Better yet, just what the hell did you see to make you say those words. You almost don’t even have to hear him say anything to know what he is thinking.

“See this is why it’s important you come to me.” There’s that same strictness in your voice, and yet, this one is different. Is that a slight hint of genuine concern he hears? Realizing how you might have sounded to a man who has probably dealt with far worse, you straighten up, clearing your throat as you did so and fluttering your eyes away from his forbidding gaze. Pushing away whatever emotions that managed to rile you up like that, you clear your throat once more. “So, looks like there’s a laceration, along the inferior portion of your neck here, proximal to your acromial region. But lucky for you, your brachial plexus is still intact. The bullet, or whatever the hell you've been hit by, narrowly missed your suprascapular artery and nerve. Though I will have to perform some sutures to reconstruct your trapezius muscle."

"English, for fucks sake." Ghost grumbles at your rapid speech involving words he finds incoherent. But you and I both know it’s only because he finds it to be a turn on. That's why he let you ramble on in the first place.

"What I meant was, good news is, your nerves and blood vessels are okay. Bad news is, your trapezius muscle, which is the muscle that runs along the curve of your neck here and a portion of your back has a slight gash here at the top. So you are going to need stitches. And a lot of rest afterwards of course, to make sure it's properly healed."

"Fuckin hell." Ghost mutters under his breath.

"Now if you'll let me-"

"Yeh yeh. Just make it quick."

What had been a short amount of time had instead felt like hours for the masked soldier, for Ghost, for the wounded Simon Riley beneath all those layers as he remained in his seat like a statue, ensuring that he stayed as still as possible while you worked on him. He had not uttered a single word during the whole duration, not even the slightest grunt. And if it hadn't been for his steady breathing, you would have presumed him to be dead. He had to be the quietest patient you have ever dealt with, not to mention the most stubborn, and you found yourself wishing he would say something, anything. But to expect such from a man such as him would be a fool's errand, a fruitless endeavor.

And even if he chose to speak, what the hell would he even talk about? His fucking trauma?The man wouldn't even look at you, his eyes wandering everywhere but your face. In spite of his grievances towards you, his reluctance to ever establish any form of association with you, he'd find himself slowly stealing glances in your direction from time to time when you weren't looking directly at him. He'd find himself studying your features as he once did the first time he met you. You were wearing that same perfume, that deep woodsy and floral perfume that reminded him of an old bookstore, of one of those metaphysical shops scattered with different fragrances of the smokey incense, the unmistakable scent of you that had been ingrained in his mind ever since.

"So, what kind of a name is Ghost anyways?"

".................."

"Right. I forget you don't speak."

Ghost gives you a quick and sharp glare before staring straight ahead. Damn that sharp tongue of yours.

"You seem tired." You remark, picking on him just a tad bit to make a reference to when he commented on your dark circles, but also because he actually did genuinely seem tired.

"............."

A cock-up, no thanks to you, Ghost thinks to himself, knowing damn well the only reason he could not sleep was because of you, though he senses the only reason you said that was because he had mentioned to you how you looked tired.

More minutes pass, and he has yet to even snide at you. You'd almost prefer a huff of irritation directed at you over nothing.

"You know," you utter, "I went to medical school with an incredibly ambitious guy who was obsessed with collecting skulls. He'd do anything to get a head."

You what? Ghost looks at you just the slightest with a single blink. What the bloody fuck are you talking about? Oh wait.

“What is a sleeping brain’s favorite rock band?”

“……………….”

Oh no. It looks like Soap’s habit has taken hold of you.

“REM.”

“……………….”

Okay maybe that was a bad idea. The look that Ghost just gave you makes you want to never say another joke again. He actually thinks the first one wasn't too bad.

“You know, you’re lucky the bullet grazed you where it did.” You lean in a bit closer as you suture his wound. “Any more to the left and you would’ve have been in some serious shit.”

Your little movement manages to catch Ghost’s attention, and if you weren’t shoving a needle through his flesh he would have moved away. Instead he glances just the slightest over in your direction, his breath hitching in his throat at the close proximity between you both. His eyes trace over the details of your face as if he were studying a map, going over every one of the little characteristics that make you you. If only you could see the way he looked at you, you would have been able to see the subtlest change, the tiniest, sliver of a crack in the hardened shell that surrounded Simon Riley, of that shell that is Ghost.

There is a moment when your thigh brushes against the side of his as you turn away to move on to the next step after stitching his wound, a moment that goes by unnoticed to you, but not to him. The small contact, though brief, had managed to send a jolt of warmth through the soldier’s body, a feeling that is completely foreign to him, prompting him to tense up and bury whatever it is that has him reacting this way. It isn’t until you sense him shift beside you that you turn back to him, gauze and ointment in hand just as you catch him transfer his line of focus somewhere else. The faint alter of movement had you raising your brow, knowing well what you saw but unsure of the motive behind it.

While you went over to him, studying whatever you could gather from his body language and just his eyes due to the obstruction of his face, you noticed that his eyes were quite expressive for a man known for lacking any basic human emotion. While dressing his wound, you picked out the way his blonde lashes fluttered against his deep mahogany irises as they focused on anything but you, the black color smeared around the exposed area of his balaclava accentuating the blondes of his hairs. This had to be the first time you had actually taken a good look at him.

You would have complimented him on his eyes and lashes, but you thought against it, not wanting to embarrass yourself, or more importantly, the last thing you needed was to dig yourself deeper on his bad side and end up as a dusty file to be brushed under the rug. Speaking of. Now that you mention it, the stuff he wore around his eyes looked awfully similar to the stuff you found on your candy tray. Couldn’t be him could it? No, it can’t possibly be. The man avoids you way too much to even think about taking something that is even associated with you. Maybe you’re just overthinking like you always do and what you found was just from your own eyeshadow palette. After all, this wouldn’t be the first time you’ve accidentally smeared remnants of eyeshadow from your fingers to other things. If only you could ask him, but this man hates you enough as it is. You could casually bring it up one day, although now definitely isn’t the time.

When you were finally finished tending to him, getting up to gather some pain relievers, antibiotics, and some ointment for him to take with him, Ghost had noticed something that he had not spotted before, a small pitted and circular mark that sat at the left side of your neck. As he stared at it, trying to decipher just what it could be, it looked to be a scar of some sort, though a bit faded with time, it’s shade slightly darker than your skin tone. Where had he seen a mark like that before? And then it hit him.

“There you go.” You came back around to hand him his treatments in a brown paper bag, your voice causing him to quickly avert his gaze. “You’re all set.”

Taking the brown paper bag from your hands, Ghost couldn’t stop thinking about what it is that he saw marking the skin of your neck. Something in the back of his mind knew just exactly what that scar belonged to, what it meant. But Ghost, or Simon Riley, knew better than to delve into something that wasn’t his business, knowing well the cost. He could just be over-analyzing it all, mistaking it for something completely different. But why was he even bothering to do so in the first place. He had better things to do, duties that were assigned specifically to him, and trying to figure out that mark on your neck wasn’t one of them.

Ghost is quick to get up from his seat as he ushers you a quick thanks, the hardened wall once again building up to the masked soldier who had dared to even let it down just the slightest around you.

“Ghost wait.” You call out to him as he walks away, watching him stop in his tracks. “……before you go………next time you’re injured………promise you’ll at least come to me.”

“….I wouldn’t count on it.”

“Look,” you sigh, “I get it if you think I’m annoying……..or if you hate my guts, whatever, I don’t care. Just….at least let me help you.”

“Don' bother.” Ghost tightens his jaw as he tilts his head towards you, the brusque in his deep voice evident before he regains his steps, disappearing from your line of sight.

“What an asshole.” You breathe out with a shake of your head. You swear this man has you testing your Hippocratic Oath. You don’t know what it is that makes him despise you. Maybe it’s just him and that’s just the way he is, something you might have to ask the others about. Usually words like that would have you lying in bed awake thinking what you did wrong, but you are much too tired for that.

As Ghost went back to his room, shutting the door behind him, he opened up the paper bag you had given him, spilling out the pill bottles and ointment tube onto the table until he heard something roll off the edge of the table and fall onto the floor. Furrowing his brows, the soldier looked at the ground at his feet to where the mysterious item had fallen only to see a single Dum-Dum lollipop, sour apple flavor. Bloody fuckin hell.

Part 4

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[celestiaras]

ft. ren zotto x f! reader — iluna, nijisanji en

╰₊✧ sneaking around with fuckboy ren zotto & thinking about your feelings┊0.7k words

contains: smut!! dom ren & sub reader┊friends with benefits, outdoor & semi-public, making out & tongue piercings, size difference, ooc ren, a whole lot of buildup for a paragraph of smut my bad, receiving oral, mentioned unrequited feelings

➤ author's note: thanks to @roseofdepravity for the idea of ren with piercings!! i’m no longer normal about him (i haven’t written in a while due to writer’s block, i may be rusty)

“god, what’s gotten into you? we might get caught here!” your back pressed against the ridged brick wall of the building, unable to escape in any direction with ren blocking your way.

“what’s gotten into you? thinking that you could wear such a cute outfit and expecting me not to go crazy over it?” his hand trailing up your thighs and under your skirt to tug at the hem of your underwear. “and you’re so wet for me already? what were you thinking about during the lecture?”

“’for you?’ don’t get so ahead of yourself when we aren’t even together,” you scoffed. it was literally the first day of the new semester yet still believable that something like this happened already.

“maybe i’ll make it official then,” he smirked, his other hand cupping your face upwards to shut you up with a kiss. a sense of urgency laced his every action as if he actually cared about the possibility of getting walked in on despite acting like he didn’t. this was the most vulnerable both of you have been to the public eye, getting dragged into a dark empty hallway with burnt-out lights right after a class with him.

you highly doubt that he ever would make it official with the copious number of men and women lined up at his door, but it’s not like you aren’t already content with this little game of cat and mouse that’s been going on since high school. all you could do was roll your eyes and sigh at the intrusion of his tongue slipping into your mouth, feeling the tasteless titanium of his piercing as you put up a little fight for dominance before completely melting into him and letting him take control like always.

although he isn’t the tallest guy on campus, he still managed to tower over you and dominate you so effortlessly. you practically disappeared behind him and it eased any anxieties you had about being seen since you would just be another one of the many people he was seen screwing without being recognized, but you suddenly panicked when he dropped to his knees.

“don’t worry about it, everyone is at the club fair for the free snacks anyways…” he mentioned as if he read your mind (you wouldn’t be surprised at this point, you’ve learned over the years that aliens have many different abilities). you were half-tempted to kick him off to drop the moment and pick it up another time, but his devilishly charming smile managed to make you agree to it like always.

realization struck you about just how many times you’ve snuck around with ren from the moment mutual attraction was made known until now: from parties, to trips, to being rebounds, to being bored. there was hardly a single week that went by without one of you sending a text to the other. neither of you was looking for anything serious and you had already crushed the idea of it ever happening several times, but there was a little glimmer of a wish that maybe your friendship including extra benefits would evolve into something more— even though he probably doesn’t feel the same way.

your thoughts disappeared with a shiver up your spine when he started to lick long stripes along your cunt, gasping at the piercing of metal against your clit controlled by his talented tongue that knew you more than you knew yourself. he moaned at your taste, lapping up the leaking nectar until you just all over his mouth and then he’ll chuckle with slick lips about how quickly he was able to unravel you.

he doesn’t need anything in return, he’ll tell you when you started the motions to return the favor. he just wanted to eat you out because of how cute you looked today, wiping the remnants of the seconds before away on the sleeve of his hoodie before leaving to give you some privacy to recollect yourself. he hides the blush on his face and speeds away, unsure of how much longer he’ll be able to pretend that he’s still seeing other people and that he feels indifferent towards you in that way when he can barely handle keeping his hands to himself.

[azsazz]

Dioxazine

Modern!Rhys x Reader

Summary: While at the art shop looking for the necessary supplies for your first semester of art school, you get a bit distracted by the cocky cashiers intriguing eye color.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2,254

Notes: It’s 1am and now it’s Sunday so I’m posting rn so @writingsbychlo can see this when she wakes up. This one’s for you babes! I hope you love it.

P.S. Gosh I just love young, cocky Rhys so much. 😭

_________________________________________

You really should’ve grabbed a basket.

Your arms are stuffed with supplies: sketchbooks, pencils, oil paints, a roll of canvas, anything and everything you could need for the start of your classes in a few days. 

They’d given you a list of all of the tools needed for your first semester at art school and yeah, you could’ve ventured to the nearest chain store, but you thought it’d be better to support the local art supply in town.

That is, until you meet the cashier.

He looks anything but friendly, leant over the expanse of the counter, flipping through a magazine ever so lazily. The boy doesn’t even look up when you drop your supplies down, spilling across the surface with purpose.

“Hello?” you crow when you’ve been standing there for a solid minute while he reads whatever article is next to the full page perfume ad with a half naked model on it. You catch sight of his long fingers rubbing the corner of the pages, separating them from each other so that he can turn to the next.

“Hi,” he responds blankly, like you’ve just run into him and he doesn’t know why you’re speaking to him. Your brows knit together as you stare at him, wondering if he always acts so careless about his job or you’ve just caught him at a bad time.

“I, um…” you trail off, frustrated because all you want to do is purchase your supplies and you’ll be out of his inky black hair. “Can you look at me?”

A muscle twitches in his jaw in annoyance, which is fine because his rudeness is irritating you as well, so at least you have that in common.

Finally, he snaps shut the magazine and looks up at you. His glaring eyes are startling, not because he looks menacing, but you’ve never quite seen a color like that before, bright violet with flecks of a dark hue that reminds you of the stars in the night sky. 

They make you itch to test out your new paints.

Your breath hitches in your throat as he stands to his full height, and holy Gods, he towers over you by at least a whole foot. “Is there something I can help you with?”

You clear your throat, “Yes, actually. If you’re not too busy, that is.” You glance at the magazine, now facedown on the counter.

The side of his mouth quirks in a wicked smirk, “You’ve caught me at a good stopping point.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes, muttering something under your breath that only makes him smile wider.

“I’m looking for the umber oil paint but I didn’t see any on the rack.”

“Freshman then?” his teeth are bright in his grin. He rounds the corner of the counter, leading you back the way you came. There aren’t many students milling about the small shop, and as you pass the pen section you have to talk yourself into not purchasing another just for the sake of how pretty it looks.

You make a face at his insinuation. “You can tell that just from my paint selection?”

“Yes and no. No, because umber is a staple color for most painters,” he glances at you over his shoulder as he slows to a stop before the rack of organized paints. He takes his time, giving you a once over that makes you flush and hug your arms across your chest. His smile only grows and you scowl in response. “And yes, because If you weren't a freshman you would’ve asked for a specific one. There’s burnt umber and raw umber.”

He plucks both tubes of paint from the shelf and holds them out to you, “Very different colors.”

“They look the same to me,” you mumble, studying the swatches on the tubes. They’re a few shades off from each other, surely that can’t make that much of a difference.

You definitely don’t take into account how small the tubes look in his large hands, and you’re absolutely not thinking about taking one just to compare the size difference between your hands.

“Trying to decide which one to get?” His question is innocent but the look on his face is anything but.

You flush and the collar of your shirt seems to tighten out of nowhere. “Yes.”

He stares down at you for a moment, making sure that you know he’d given you an out.

“You’re going to need both.”

“I guess I’ll take your word for it, since you seem to know so much about art.”

“That’s why I work at the art store,” he replies bluntly, letting you lead the way back to the register, “Because I know my shit.”

“Well it’s definitely not because of your less than charming personality,” you retort, shocking yourself. You’re usually not so rude to people but there’s just something about this guy that’s getting under your skin. 

All you want to do is go back to your dorm.

“You think I’m charming?”

You scoff, “Absolutely not,” You catch yourself peeking at how well fitting his pants are against the round of his ass as he makes his way back to the register side of the counter. You shake your head, scolding yourself. “Now are you going to ring up my stuff?”

“No, but I will check you out.”

You groan, “That was terrible.”

“Terrible or cute?”

You give him a pointed look, face straight. “Terrible.”

“I can try another,” he says as he finally starts ringing up your art supplies.

“No thank you, just the supplies for me today, thanks,” you try, silently praying that he hurries. You can’t stand the thought of being around him for much longer if he spouts another cheesy line that you know he’s probably used on plenty of girls before. You don’t care how cute he is.

“You know what else these are good for?” He holds up the tube of Dioxazine purple paint, the one that looks like a bottled color of his eyes.

“I really didn’t ask.”

“Finger Painting.”

The retort rolls quickly off your tongue and just as swift to wipe that smile off of his gorgeous face. “Should’ve known that’s what you’re into, since you act like a three year old.”

His eyes glow, taking the card you’re holding out for the transaction. You don’t even care how much the total is, you just want to get the hell out of here.

“Feisty.”

“Just give me the damn receipt,” you’re pretty sure your cheeks look like they’ve been brushed with the cadmium red paint in your bag as you hold out your hand for your card and the thin sheet of paper.

“Yes, ma'am,” he obeys, passing both over to you, sliding your bag of supplies across the counter.

“And don’t call me that.”

“What do you want me to call you? Darling? Or your name, perhaps?”

“No.”

“Any other requests?” he asks cheekily, planting his hands on the counter so he can lean toward it, towering over you.

You take the bag, fully planning on ignoring him in favor of taking a brisk walk towards the door but he’s shuffling around under the counter and trailing after you.

“Yeah, you can stop following me,” you remark, catching sight of the bunched up sweatshirt in his hands. It’s nowhere near cold yet so you don’t understand why he has that on him. Maybe it got cold in the store while he was sitting on his ass doing nothing.

“My shift just ended, Darling.” 

You halt as you step onto the sidewalk. He takes a few steps further, swinging around to face you when he realizes you’ve stopped.

Narrowing your eyes up at him, you say, “Didn’t I just tell you not to call me that?”

“You didn’t tell me your name, so I guess I’ll just have to keep calling you pet names, Darling.”

“(Y/N),” you nearly growl, “My name is (Y/N).”

He repeats your name and you clutch your bag tighter in your hands because you’d never heard it sound quite that lovely coming out of someone's mouth. It gives you goosebumps.

“I’m Rhysand, but you can call me Rhys.”

“I’m honored,” you respond sourly, hating that he’s smiling at your annoyance. “Can I go now?”

You try to step around him but he slides into your path again, blocking your way back to campus.

“You know my friends and I are throwing a party at my place tonight,” he starts, glancing up at the street over your head before returning those piercing eyes on yours. He shrugs.  “You know, before class starts up and all that.”

“Cool.”

He barks out a laugh that licks up your spine in the best way. “That was me inviting you, if that wasn’t clear.”

“It wasn’t,” you say, even though it was.

He cocks his head, grinning crookedly at you, “Don’t be like that.”

You can’t help but to roll your eyes at this cocky boy. You blurt the next question that comes to mind instead of giving him an answer. “Why are you even working here?”

“So I can meet pretty girls like you,” he responds innocently, dark lashes fluttering against his cheeks in an exaggerated manner.

You can’t help but to laugh, shifting your bag to the other arm, “Try again.”

The corner of his mouth pulls up into a wicked curve and your heart definitely doesn’t stutter and you certainly aren’t thinking about breaking out the oil paints you’ve just bought.

“I might work at the art supply store to get a discount on my own supplies,” he starts, “Or I might work at the art supply store so that my father thinks that I can be independent and make a living off becoming an artist instead of taking over the family business.”

And well, you weren’t expecting him to be so open about it. 

Unsure of what to say, you focus on the fact that he said he was also taking classes for art. 

“You’re in art school?”

“I know, the patchwork tattoos make me seem like something much more scholarly,” he grins and you had taken notice of the array of…interesting patchwork tattoos littering the tanned skin of his arms.

“Yeah,” you huff a laugh, “The Mickey Mouse one really screams finance major.”

Rhys’ smile falls, an offended scowl taking over his perfect face. “It’s not just a tattoo of Mickey Mouse,” he protests, turning his arm so the both of you can see the silly tattoo better. “He’s…on drugs, so it’s cool, ya know? An aesthetic if you will.”

You stare at it, then at him, an eyebrow raised. 

He gives in. “Okay…so it was a dare but there’s a good story behind it, I swear! I can tell you more about it on our date.”

“Date? I thought it was a party?”

“So you’re coming?”

You purse your lips, unimpressed. “I didn’t say all that.”

The blaring sounds of a horn cuts off his response, drawing both of your attention to the street. There’s two boys in the front seats of the gorgeous vintage Bronco, painted your favorite color. Your mouth nearly drops at the pristine condition of the car, and then again once you catch sight of the handsome passengers.

The boy driving the car leans over the one in the passenger, “C’mon Rhys, hurry up and get her number or we’re going to do this thing without you!”

The boy in the passenger seat glares at the driver, your cheeks heating up under their stares.

“You heard him,” Rhys says, smiling so wide you’re afraid his cheeks might split open. “Can’t have them thinking I didn’t get your number, right?”

“You didn’t.”

“(Y/N),” he sighs, yielding only a small step when you take one forward. When you don’t say anything he continues, “At least come to the party.”

“No, thanks.”

“Please?”

You exhale an exasperated breath. He just won’t give up. “If I say yes will you get out of my way?”

“Definitely,” he nods his head eagerly.

“Then yes,” you finally relent and he beams, “I will see you there.”

“Sick,” he mutters proudly to himself. He shoves his hand into your bag and you fumble for a second, yelping and straightening the paper sack as he rifles around for something.

Rhys pulls a sharpie out and grabs your arm. You’re so caught off guard that you just watch as he writes his number on your forearm in thick black letters. Your mouth drops open in shock. You’ll have to scrub your skin raw to try and get it off.

He steps back, admiring his work. He caps the marker and tosses it back into your bag, “My number looks good on you, you should consider getting that inked. I have a friend, if you want.”

“Let me guess, he’ll be at the party.”

His grin is shit eating.

Rhys winks, pulling out a can of spray paint from beneath the bunched up fabric of his sweatshirt as he retreats towards the car, and it’s then that you realize he's only brought the jacket so he could take the paint, hiding it in the fabric so no one would see.

He shakes the can in the air for emphasis, swinging a leg up into the backseat of the convertible. The grin on his face is something you'll be thinking about for the rest of the day.

“I'll paint something pretty for ya, (Y/N). See you tonight.”

[beezlub]

Daffodils & Dragons || Draco M. x F! H! Reader

synopsis; studying for the NEWTs, time had caught you and you had completely forgotten about the yule ball. finding yourself at a gryffindor party a few days before, your short friendship with draco starts to unravel, leading you to a side of him you’ve never seen.

a/n; teehee. this is. long. it was a very self indulgent fic, as a plus size reader/writer who has a very soft spot for draco, i just wanted to write for him 🫶 also this is my first time writing smut, please be nice

story notes; SMUT (MINORS DNI), plot with porn, alcohol, p in v (wrap it before you tap it, PLEASE), mattheo is kinda an asshole and does mean things to (y/n), self-conscious thoughts abt self, romance, angst at the end BUT THERE IS A HAPPY ENDING

tw; sexual assault, potion misuse, alcohol spiking. please lmk if there’s something i’m missing!!

wc; 13.2k. i got carried away whoopsies

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The NEWTs were known to be the worst exams you could ever take at Hogwarts, hence their full name; nastily exhausting wizarding tests. For the first half of the year, it had been filled with studying, attending tutoring sessions by my professors, and more studying. Exhausting, truly. I knew I didn’t need to push myself so hard, but I was trying so hard to follow in my parents footsteps, to become a potioneer.

I'd grown up around them explaining and showing me the processes of potion making, and it occupied a good portion of my mind for most of my childhood. A NEWT in the subject would mean the world to me, and hence the studying was needed.

“(Y/n), dearie, you need to get your head out of that book and get some air,” a voice said from behind me, and I noticed it was hannah.

“I’m quite alright, thank you though Han,” I said, quietly resuming the notes I'd been taking. I still had a few hours left until dinner, and I was keen on studying until then.

“(Y/n), please love. Take a break. You’ve been in your notes all semester. It’s a wonder how you aren’t burnt out yet," Hannah said, sliding into the chair next to me as she grabbed my hand, pulling my attention away again. “Join me tonight; there’s a party I want to go to, and I know you aren’t keen on them, but I think it’ll do you good. You haven’t been to a party since your fourth year. You need to relax,” she begged, her eyes silently pleading for me to go.

“Hannah, you? A party? What happened to miss prefect,” I said, giggling as I shut the book in front of me.

“I know, I know. It’s just…” she trailed off, her cheeks gaining a pink hue to them, and I immediately knew what she was getting at.

“I get it. Longbottom will be there, won’t he?” I teased, enjoying the way her cheeks flared, her eyes avoiding mine as she nodded. I let out a laugh, gathering the notes and pens I had scattered around the table. “Fine, I'll be your wingwoman. But for this, you owe me a butterbeer next time we go to Hogsmeade!” I mused, putting the materials in a neat pile as I heard Hannah cheer.

“Oh, thank you (Y/n)! Thank you! C’mon, we’ve got to get you out of these robes, and I need to do my hair!” She said, happiness apparent in her voice as she pulled me from my chair and out of the library, my books in my arms as she dragged me all the way to the Hufflepuff dorms, ignoring the stares we received, and into our shared room.

Placing my books on my desk, I took off my robe and draped it over the bed, leaving me in my uniform. Undoing my hair from the loosened braid, I let it fall over my shoulders as I sat on my bed, watching Hannah dig through the trunk at the end of hers.

“I don’t even know what to wear. I didn’t think this far ahead. I'm so nervous (Y/n), what if he doesn’t even notice me!” Hannah said, picking out a few dresses she had stored and throwing them over her bed. A dark red one caught my eye, and I quirked an eyebrow.

“Han, that one,” I pointed to the red one, watching as her face darkened again.

“(Y/n/n), that one…it’s too revealing!” She squeaked, getting off her knees as she picked it up, holding it to her frame. “It’d show…everything!”

“Isn’t that what you want? Neville will definitely notice you then,” I smirked, watching as her eyes widened with realization.

“Merlin, (Y/n). Find something and change, I'll be right back,” she said, skipping into the bathroom with the red dress as I let out a giggle. “Oh, Hannah,” I said, shaking my head as I left the plush surface of my bed and dug through my own trunk. Throwing out a few options, I sighed, wondering if I even had a dress that would be good enough for a Gryffindor party, though I thought it was odd they were throwing one on a Thursday.

“Hannah, can I rummage through your trunk?” I shouted, hoping she could hear me through the door.

“Do you not have a dress, (Y/n)? I thought you had that sparkly green one?” She shouted back, and I turned my eyes back to my trunk, digging through it until I found what she was talking about. It was a dress I had bought a few years ago to attend a Slytherin party, but never ended up wearing or even attending, due to not wanting to be tormented by Draco or his goons. Standing up, I held the dress to my body, watching as the dark green fabric sparkled in the dormitory light. Shrugging, I figured this was as good as it was going to get, and stripped off my uniform and tights before unclasping my bra and pulling the dress over my head. My figure had definitely filled out since I had bought the dress; it bunched up around my hips, and the low chest line left little to imagine as it pushed my chest up slightly. The dress ended mid thigh, and the sleeves were a sheer dark green that fell off my shoulders. I'd be lying if I said I didn’t feel sexy in this dress, and I ran my hands over myself, feeling the pudginess of my tummy. Turning around, I eyed the low cut in the back, wary of how it almost showed off my ass, but other than that it was perfect. Running a hand through my hair, I enjoyed the waves in the length from the hairstyle it had been in all day.

“Han, can I borrow some of your makeup?” I asked, looking at her as she exited the bathroom. The red dress hugged her figure tight, accentuating her hips and showed off more of her thighs than I could ever think of. “Wow…Han…you look stunning,” I said, shaking myself from my best friend's beauty as she laughed.

“I could say the same about you, dearie. You look hot!” She grabbed my hand and spun me, a laugh ripping its way from my throat. “I'll do your makeup, sit on my bed!”

Listening to her, I took place on her bed, sure to not let the material around my thighs ride up as I heard her murmur a spell, her wand directly in my face as I felt a cool breeze against it. “All done!” She sang, hopping up from the bed to slip on some black kitten heels and I rolled my eyes.

“I thought you were against using magic for makeup?” I asked, making my way back over to the mirror to see what she had done.

“I am, for the most part, but tonight calls for a special occasion.”

Looking in the mirror, I brought a hand up to my face, careful to not smudge the makeup on my face. The blemishes on my face were covered, the blush on my face making me look flushed constantly. There was a shimmery eyeshadow on my lids, along with a fine flick of eyeliner and mascara. Tinted gloss was on my lips, and I felt prettier than ever. “Thank you, I look so pretty!” I beamed, turning around at Hannah who had a smile on her face.

“You always look pretty, now grab some shoes! The party has already started!”

"What?!"

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The music boomed in my ears as Hannah dragged me into the Gryffindor common room. I could already smell the booze in the air, and everybody was tightly together. My eyes wandered, and I saw a pair of hands on a girl's hips, dragging her ass into the male's crotch, and I inwardly cringed. If I had known this was how the party was going to be, I would've contemplated a bit more on coming, or wearing something different.

"I'm going to go get something to drink, Han. go find Neville," I said, removing my hand from hers as she nodded, and in an instant, her body was lost in the sea of seventh years. Shaking my head, I maneuvered to the side of the room, my eyes landing on a bottle of sherry and my heart eased its panic. Grabbing a cup, I poured the liquid in, but just as I was about to grab a mixer for it, a pair of hands slithered onto my hips.

"(Y/n), you look stunning tonight," the voice whispered in my ear, barely audible over the music, and the smell of firewhiskey invaded my senses. Turning around, I was met with Mattheo, a fellow seventh year who I had a few classes with over the last few years.

"Hi to you too, Mattheo," I said, giving him a polite smile as I tried to turn my attention back to the alcohol in my hands.

"Whadda shame," he slurred, his hand gripping my hips even tighter as he leaned in closer, "I woulda loved to take you out, now that I know what would be under that dress of yours," his hands ran up and down my sides, an unwelcome shiver running down my spine. Mattheo was far past drunk, and while I couldn't excuse his actions, the better part of me knew I needed to get him away from the alcohol.

"Matt, c'mon," I said, placing my cup down on the table behind me as I grabbed his sleeve, tugging him towards an empty loveseat in the corner. His frame towered above me as we made our way over, the music growing quieter as we moved away from the speakers. Gesturing for him to sit down, I ran a hand over the butt of my dress before sitting, cursing the way it slid up anyways.

"Y'so pretty, y'know that (Y/n/n)? I always thought you were pretty." He said after a few moments, his head lifting up from where it was resting against the back of the couch. I blushed at his words, hoping it wasn't visible in the dim lights.

"You're drunk, mattheo, you don't mean that." I said, pulling my gaze away from his face and scanning the crowd. I could see Hannah grinding against Neville, a drink in both their hands as they laughed, and my heart felt heavy again. Hannah was so pretty, her hair falling over her shoulders as she danced with neville. Her dress hugged her in all the right spots, the red complimenting her skin. If she hadn't been sorted into Hufflepuff, Gryffindor would've been my next guess, solely because of the color with her skin. The thoughts gnawed at my mind for a few more songs, constantly comparing myself with the other girls I knew, and how drastically different I looked than them.

As the next song played, a warm and calloused hand gripped the bare skin on my thigh, slowly working its way up. I didn't need to turn to know who it was; Mattheo. My skin froze, and I could hear my heart in my ears.

"Bet if I reached up a little more, I could feel how wet you are, baby," he slurred in my ear, his other hand coming to grip my face as he slammed his lips against mine. A muffled yelp escaped my lips from the contact, and I could feel his fingers against my pantyline. Panic flooded my system, and I pushed myself away from him, attempting to get up from the couch before he pulled me into his lap.

"No, no, (Y/n). I know you want me just as much as I want you, baby." Mattheo's hand clawed at my chest, groping one of my breasts as the other one kneaded my ass. It wasn't pleasurable; it was the opposite. I hated it, I wanted his hands off me, I wanted to burn this dress and my skin.

“Hey, mate. What's the big idea?” A voice said from behind me, and it was that moment that I realized I had been crying. Cedric stood behind me, his arms crossed against his chest before reaching out for me, pulling me up from Mattheo.

“Cedric,” I whimpered softly, feeling one of his hands rub my arm as he continued to glare at Mattheo, who had thrown his arms up in defense, and the smirk on his face made me want to puke.

“She wanted it, man. I could feel how wet she was under that slutty dress," Mattheo started before he was met with a punch to his face. The people around us had started to stare, and I could feel myself shrinking into Cedric's arm, trying to hide from them.

“Don’t ever say that about her, or another girl for that matter, Riddle,” Cedric spat, turning us around to make way to the other side of the room. “Are you okay, love?” He asked, his hand rubbing my arm once more as I pulled my dress down more. I couldn’t do anything but nod, trying to stop the tears falling from my eyes as we sat down with some other Hufflepuffs who had taken residence at one of the tables.

“(Y/n)? oh my god, love. what happened?” I heard Hannah behind me, and I turned around to face her, watching as she left Neville's arm and rushed over to me, cupping my face in her hands as she brushed stray tears away from my face.

“Riddle is what happened. I saw his hand up her dress when I went to get another drink, so I went to get her. Ended up decking the fucker in the face,” Cedric said, rubbing his knuckles as Hannah continued to comfort me.

“I-I think I might just go back to our dorm, Han.” I said quietly, holding one of her hands as she nodded. “I'll come and walk you back,” she got up, and I shook my head. “I don’t want to ruin your night, you stay here with Nev and the others. I'll be fine,” I said, lifting myself out of the chair.

“(Y/n), I’m not comfortable with you walking around the school after this. Somebody needs to walk with you,” she stated before a cough behind us distracted us.

“I'll walk her; I'm leaving anyway,” Draco said, his eyes shifting between the two of us. His sleeves of his black dress shirt were pushed to his elbows, his usually neat hair tousled as his eyes landed on mine. He looked like he had been in a fight too, but then I noticed his knuckles were bright red, just like Cedric's, confirming my suspicion. I wouldn’t put it past Malfoy to do something, on tonight of all nights too.

“Fine, but if I hear one thing from her, your ass is mine, got that Malfoy?” Hannah said, her hands resting on her hips as he nodded. “Noted; let’s get you back to your dorm, (Y/n),” Draco said, moving out of the way so I could leave the table. A shiver ran down my spine from him calling me by my first name; usually it was (L/n), or mudblood. First name basis was reserved for people close to him.

The walk to the Hufflepuff entrance was quiet, not many students to be seen. It was well past midnight at this point, and I cursed myself inwardly for letting time slip so fast. Thank Godric there were no prefects out at the moment though.

“Are you okay?” Draco asked, breaking the silence as he fell into step beside me. Looking up at him, I could see the concern written on his face, but he didn’t dare touch me.

“I think I'm alright. I’ll be fine, anyhow,” I started, unsure of what else to say as I wrapped my arms around myself, the late fall air cold, even inside the building.

“Here,” Draco held out a jacket, one I was unaware he was even holding, and I shook my head.

“It wouldn't fit, but thank you anyways,” I gave him a sad smile, brushing some stray strands of hair out of my face.

“Merlin, you’re stubborn,” Draco groaned before setting the jacket over my shoulders. It was warm from being in his arms, and smelled like musk and apples.

“I…thank you,” I muttered, grasping the edges of it gently as it fell quiet again. Soon enough, we reached the Hufflepuff entrance; its giant oak doors were daunting to me as I tried not to let the events of the last few hours crash down on me in front of Draco.

“Do you need me to go in with you?” He asked, noticing the worry on my face as his hands shifted a bit, almost as if he did want to help me.

“Oh-um. No, thank you,” I squeaked out, embarrassed that he saw the worry on my face, “here, thank you again,” I said, shuffling off the jacket as I placed it back into his arms, the brush of my fingers against his arms electrifying.

“Of course. i’ll see you in potions tomorrow,” he said, turning around, leaving me in the hall with a pale blush on my face, not one caused by makeup.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The blaring of my alarm woke me up with a jolt, and I couldn’t help but groan, throwing a pillow over my head as I tried to drown the noise out. Just because I was in the sweetest house of them all didn’t mean I couldn’t be a bitch without sleep.

“Godric's sake, (Y/n) turn that blasted thing off. I have a bad enough headache as it is," Hannah groaned, throwing one of her pillows at me as I reached for the alarm on my bedside table, smacking around a bit until I hit the button, silence once again obtained. Pushing myself up, I blinked a few times, trying to figure out the mess that was on the floor. Clothes were scattered everywhere, a wand on top of everything. Shoes weren’t neatly put away under the beds, and a pile of clothing I didn’t recognise was on top of Hannah's trunk. The green dress I had on last night was draped neatly around one of the posters on my bed, and it took a few moments for a few things to click. One was that Neville was sleeping soundly on the other side of Hannah, hence the pile of clothes I didn’t recognise. Two, was that Draco was oddly nice to me last night after everything that had happened, and that if my speculations were right, he also got a few punches in at Mattheo.

“Hannah, c’mon. you’ve got to get up,” I said, throwing off the warm blankets as my feet met the cold stone on the ground.

“Not going to classes…Too hungover…” she moaned from under her blankets, and I stifled a laugh as I stripped out of my sleepwear and into my uniform.

“Snape will be mad at you, you know that right?” I asked, tightening the tie around my neck before leaning over to place the school loafers on my feet.

“Don’t care,” she replied before a heavy snore echoed through the room. Oh Neville.

“I'll miss you; make sure you use a condom,” I snickered as I grabbed my bag and robe, leaving the room before another object could be thrown at my head.

Settling down at the Hufflepuff table, I grabbed the notes out of my bag before filling my plate with the breakfast goods. I could feel eyes burning into the back of my head, but I opted to ignore it as I smiled at Cedric, who had just joined the table as well.

“Morning, (Y/n). how’d you sleep?” He laughed, ruffling my hair as I scoffed, threading a few fingers through my hair to undo the mess he had just made.

“Just fine, thank you.” I mumbled, rolling my eyes with a smile as I flipped open the notebook in front of me, ignoring that Cedric had stolen a sausage link off my plate. “Any more of you got laid last night?” I asked, enjoying the uproar of laughter that echoed out.

“Cedric got close with Cho, if I recall correctly,” Abby said, nudging him in the side as Ethan tossed a crumpled up straw wrapper at him from across the table.

“I probably would’ve, if you two hadn’t interrupted the game!” He laughed, which made me look up from my notes.

“There was a game?” I asked, looking around at my friends.

“Yeah, Ron started a game of spin the bottle, the one muggle game, but Pansy added on seven minutes in heaven. It was wonderfully funny.” Ethan cackled before shoveling eggs into his mouth.

“Oh…sounds lovely.” I mused, shaking my head as I turned back towards my notes.

“Malfoy wouldn’t play after he returned though. He looked seriously shaken yet deeply in love," Abby commented, Cedric nodding in agreement as he continued to eat off my plate.

“Wait…Draco came back? He said he was going to his dorm after he walked me back.” The confusion must’ve been written clearly across my face, as everyone fell silent.

“He..he did come back. But didn’t do anything but pour a cup or five of firewhiskey for himself,” Ethan shrugged, looking around the group. “What? She asked, and I told. Pansy threw a nasty fit when her spin landed on him, and he refused to kiss her for the bare minimum.”

“It's fine, guys, I swear. I just didn’t know, that’s all,” I said, shutting my notebook and giving a fake smile before I took a sip of the orange juice in front of me. The bell rang a few moments later, and we all said our goodbyes as we headed our separate ways. I usually had Hannah alongside me while we made our way to potions, but because of her ‘hangover’, she wasn’t here, and I felt extremely anxious. Another set of feet were following close behind me, and it made my pace pick up as I clutched my bag tighter in my arms, but their pace increased too. The anxiety inside me was skyrocketing as I reached the door of the potions room, and I flung it open, rushing to my usual seat. I didn’t want to see who was behind me, I didn’t want to know if it was some poor student trying to catch up to me, or if it was Mattheo trying to make another move. Settling down, I took a few deep breaths to try and calm down as other students filled the room. Hearing the chair scrape on the floor next to me, I pulled my gaze from my lap to see Draco sitting next to me, an irritated look on his face as he slouched back, his gaze on the board at the front of the class. I guess he noticed me looking at him, and he turned to me with a scoff.

“What? Something on my face, (Y/n)?” He asked, his word choice not matching up with his tone. “You’re a bloody fast walker, by the way. Practically running down the hall, you git.”

I blushed, turning away from him as I dug my notes out of my bag, watching as Snape scribbled something on the board. “I didn’t know it was you following me. I thought it was…” I trailed off, not wanting to recall the memories from last night.

“He won't be bothering you, love,” Draco said before shutting up. Besides being one of Snape's top students, it didn’t stop the glares from the professor to get him to shut up.

“If the class would like to start, we will be going over Amortentia today. You will be expected to make a decent potion of it by the end of class and have a three page essay over its components and your results by next Monday,” Snape said, my eyes drifting over the ingredients laid out on the table in front of us. I could hear the groans emitting from the students around me; an essay over the weekend wasn’t something anyone wanted.

“You will be partnered up with your desk mate today; given the…amount of students missing,” Snape continued, my head snapping up. Oh Godric. Hannah was usually my desk mate, the spot now taken by Draco. Not that he was a bad potions partner per se, probably the best in the class actually, give or take me. But we walked a line I didn’t know existed until a few months ago, when the term started. Always on the receiving end of his taunts, the boy’s words stopped carrying the sting they did from the first few years of school. Now, they stopped all together, and he was…friendly. In a Draco way. It was confusing, especially after yesterday’s events.

“Right, I muttered to myself, following the instructions I had written down in my notes, distracting myself from my previous thoughts as I poured my attention into the cauldron in front of me. I didn’t notice the way Draco was watching me, his gaze scanning my face, noticing the way my brows furrowed in concentration and how I stuck out my tongue as I bruised the peppermint heads with the mortar and sprinkled them into the potion, then dropped the whole leaves in. He continued to watch as I dropped in the powdered moonstone, stirring three times and seeing the way my eyes sparkled over the golden cauldron.

Scribbling down notes quickly for the essay, I turned to look at Draco, quirking a brow at his unlit cauldron.

“Aren’t you going to start?” I asked, dropping a handful of rose thorns into the pot before I covered the top with a silk cloth.

“We’re partners, if you didn’t hear Snape correctly. We were supposed to be doing this together,” his eyes glanced over the covered cloth, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Oh, shit,” I clamped a hand over my mouth, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. “I'm so sorry, Draco. I got carried away,” I moaned, hiding my face behind my hands as I rested my elbows on the table. He laughed from beside me, a delightful sound to my ears as I peeked between my fingers.

“S’alright, (Y/n). Less work for me. I guess to pay you back for doing the hard work, I'll tackle the essay for you.” A hand found its way to my shoulder, and I jumped in surprise before it retracted immediately. “Sorry,” Draco mumbled, and I removed my hands from my face, watching him stare at his own notes with a slight pink tinge to both our cheeks.

“S’okay, Dray,” I said, the nickname rolling off my tongue as I lifted the silk. “Looks like it’s done, yeah?” I asked, looking at the pearlescent color swirling around.

“It does. Let me take a whiff," Draco said, grabbing the other side of the silk as he lifted it off. I watched as his head went closer to the pot, his eyes closing as he inhaled the scent.

“What does it smell like?” I asked as he pulled away, watching as he took his sweet time to exhale the breath he was holding.

“It smells like..amber and vanilla. and a hint of cinnamon,” he finally said, and I scribbled it down. My chest felt heavy at the description, but for what, I couldn’t pin. Was I upset that draco didn’t smell me? Was I happy that he didn’t? I didn’t know.

“Your turn,” Draco said to me as he finished writing his findings, and I gave a curt nod, brushing back a strand of hair so it didn’t dip in the potion as I leaned forward. My senses were flooded with the smell of apples, sandalwood, musk, and a hint of peppermint.

“What does it smell like?” Draco asked as I removed my face from the potion, pulling my hand down to let my hair fall back down.

“It smells like apples, sandalwood, and peppermint,” I said, grabbing my quill again as the bell rang for class change. I missed the raging blush on Draco's face as I put away my things, making sure the leftover ingredients were left on the edge of the desk.

“I'll help you with cleanup, professor,” a voice said over the chatter of students. I noticed it was Mattheo, and I groaned, anxiety settling in my bones once again. I hadn’t even realized he made it to class, surprisingly, but at least this meant I didn’t have to deal with him in the halls.

“Start with the back row; dump the cauldrons into the sink and wash your hands after everyone,” Snape's voice called out, and as I made my way out of the room behind Draco, I noticed Mattheo sending me a sly smile, making my skin crawl as I exited the room.

“What's your next class?” Draco asked, his long strides growing shorter as his steps fell into sync with mine.

“I have a free period next; I'll probably spend it studying in the library. The potions NEWTs are next week, and I want to be as prepared as I can,” I replied, my voice getting lost in the sea of students as they chatted and moved out of the way for us. Seems Draco still held his reputation around school.

“Ah, well, good luck with studying. I'm sure you’re going to ace the NEWTs next week, even without studying. You’re top of our class, (Y/n).” He said as we both unconsciously made our way to the library.

“You’re too kind to me now, Draco. What happened to your comments?” I asked, leaving no room for a response as I opened and closed the library door behind me, leaving Draco in the hall.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

I had taken up residence at my usual table in the library, books and notes once again scattered around me as I pounded information into my weary brain. I'd very much had skipped my classes for the rest of the morning and much of the afternoon; it wouldn’t hurt to lose a point or two off some assignments that were going to be turned in late in lieu of studying. Dropping my quill, I stretched back, my arms above my head as I heard my back crack. A low moan left my lips from the pop, and I slouched back down, pulling my skirt back down from its shifting upward.

“Merlin, (Y/n), have you been here all day?” A voice said, and I looked over to its owner.

“Hi, ‘mione. nice to see you too,” I laughed, watching as she set a tray down in front of me.

“You missed dinner, so I brought you some. I figured you’d be in here since you weren’t in defense or herbology.” She said as I eyed the potatoes on the tray, and she pushed it closer, rolling her eyes with a laugh as I said a quick thanks and scarfed the food down. I didn’t realize how hungry I was, having been too engrossed in the books to realize my bodily needs.

“If you weren’t so kind, you definitely would be in Ravenclaw,” Hermione shook her head as I gave her a shy smile.

“Just trying to be my best, that’s all.” I said, placing the fork down on the empty plate.

“Oh, by the way, someone asked me to give you this. Not a clue what it is though, so be wary,” she said, handing me a small box with a note tied to it. “Looks like you have an admirer, (Y/n/n),” she teased, a blush coming to my cheeks as I opened the note.

“Be my date to the yule ball?” It read. No name attached either. Handing the note to Hermione, I opened the box, surprised to see little heart shaped chocolates in them.

“Oh, that’s sweet!” Hermione chirped as I popped one of the chocolates in my mouth, feeling it melt on my tongue as it left a tingly feeling throughout my body.

“I had totally forgotten about the yule ball, to be honest. But there’s no sender, so why would I go with them?” I quipped, my body growing hot as I swallowed the chocolate. I'd never had a secret admirer before, and the thought of it made me blush, but not knowing who it was was nerve wracking. “Plus, it’s tomorrow. Why would they ask so late?” I continued, popping another chocolate into my mouth, the same tingly feeling exploding throughout my body as I closed the box, munching on the melting chocolate.

“Who knows? But you are going, aren’t you? I'd love to see how pretty you are in your dress!” Hermione smiled, grasping my hands from across the table as I nodded.

“Yes, I do plan on going. I might just tag along with you lot. I was supposed to go with Hannah, but she snagged Longbottom and I don’t really want to third wheel,” I laughed as she nodded.

“I'd love to have you there, (Y/n). Now c’mon, pack up sweets. You need your beauty rest for some dancing tomorrow. Studying can resume on Sunday.” Laughing, I nodded as I cleaned up my space and slung my robes and bag on, holding the chocolates and note in my hand as I walked back to the Hufflepuff dorms.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The next morning had come and gone; most of it was spent soaking in one of the dormitory tubs. I couldn’t get myself to get out of the always-warm water and the bubbles that never popped. It was relaxing, but I knew I needed to get out soon. Hannah would be looking for me soon if she wasn’t already. She was keen on doing my hair and makeup again, saying she knew the perfect look for me to suit my dress. Letting out a groan, I unplugged the tub stopper, immediately missing the warmth as I stepped out and wrapped a towel around myself and patted myself dry as I picked up my clothes, tossing them into the laundry basket. Never in my years here did I question how they always knew what clothes belonged to who, but I was thankful for it.

Walking down the hall, I could hear the excitement emitting from the dorms and it brought a smile to my face as I entered my dorm, seeing Hannah on her bed, a mirror up to her face as she perfected her makeup.

“Oh, there you are! I was beginning to think you drowned yourself,” she laughed, setting down the eye pencil and mirror in her hand as she watched me plop down on my bed, a sigh escaping my lips as I stared up at the glow-in-the-dark stars I had pushed on the angled room at the beginning of the term.

“What's wrong love? Something got you down?” Hannah asked, moving from her bed to mine as she grasped my hand, making me look at her and give a soft smile.

“I don’t know, Han. I don’t feel as excited for this as everyone else,” I admitted, sitting up, her hand still holding mine.

“Is it because you didn’t get asked? Merlin, (Y/n), if that’s the case, that’s an awful reason to not feel excited. I thought you’d be one of the first girls to be asked out, with how kind and pretty you are. Not to mention you’re an amazing dancer," Hannah said, moving a hand to stroke the side of my face as I nuzzled her palm softly.

“No, it’s not that. I did get asked out, but I don’t know by whom.” I admitted once more, letting out a small laugh at her gasp.

“You got asked out anonymously? What a twat!” She exclaimed, her hand holding mine tighter as I let out a giggle.

“It’s fine, Han. If I had to place it on someone, it would be Riddle. I don’t know how much more he can make it obvious that he likes me, especially since he slid his hand up my dress Thursday.” I shrugged, getting up from my bed to grab some underwear to slip into.

“That git…I swear if I see him tonight, I’m going to hex him. I don’t care if it costs me my prefect title, what he did was awful and I can’t believe the professors or headmaster aren’t doing anything about it!” She mumbled, falling on my bed like I had done a few moments ago.

“It wasn’t an open party, hon. If the professors knew, we’d all be in detention right now.” I laughed, shimmying on a pair of black underwear. “Do I wear a bra? My dress doesn’t have sleeves, but I feel like I’d need the support,” I asked, turning back to Hannah as I tossed my towel on my trunk.

“Just wear a bandeau. You’ll get the support, but no straps”

“Right,” I muttered, grabbing a nude one out of the dresser and slipping it over my head, adjusting my breasts so they sat right in the bra before I sat on Hannah’s bed. “Doll me up; do your worst,” I smirked, watching her face light up as she sprang from my bed, giggling as she made her way over to me.

An hour and a half later, I couldn’t recognise myself once more, but in the best way possible. Hannah had truly worked her magic. My hair was curled, a few pieces pinned back with a white carnation pin, and tickled my bare back. My makeup was perfect. Blemishes and imperfections covered once again, a pale blush scattered across my cheeks. She had done a shimmery eyeshadow over my lids once again, and a dainty line of dark eyeshadow to mimic eyeliner, but she had buffed a dark brown under my eyes, topped off with filling my brows and a luscious layer of mascara to make my eyes pop.

“You look more beautiful than ever, (Y/n),” Hannah smiled softly at me, kissing my cheek softly as I beamed up at her. If this was the wizarding equivalent of a muggle prom, I felt like the prom queen, even without my dress on.

“Thank you Han, now go get your man,” I winked at her, shooing her away as she laughed, picking up the bottom of her once again dark red dress, the layers falling behind her as she made her way out of the dorm. Smiling, I could finally feel the excitement creeping up on me as I looked at my dress hanging on the side of my wardrobe. I reached out, feeling the tulle between my fingers before I got up, taking it off its hanger and slipping into it. It was a beautiful daffodil color, a sweetheart neckline that had flowing layers that ended at my heel, with an intricate floral lace on the bodice that trickled down onto the skirt. Spinning around, I enjoyed the way it ballooned out before falling against my legs once again. It was like a princess dress, in my eyes. Hearing the 7 o’clock bell ring out, I grabbed a pair of teardrop pearls and put them on, then a matching necklace before slipping into the nude flats I had gotten in Hogsmeade earlier in the semester before leaving.

I could hear the music being played from inside the Great Hall, and all of a sudden, I was swarmed with anxiety. I’d be entering alone, the music was so loud, what if Mattheo was there? I struggled to find my breath, placing a hand over my chest to try and even out my breathing as I sat on the stone steps outside the entrance to the hall. I could see my friends inside, watching as they danced and laughed together, while I was holding myself together with pieces of tape. Feeling beautiful moments before didn’t help me, and I struggled to not let any unwanted thoughts in my brain, but they came crashing down anyways. Was I not good enough? Was it because of how big I was? Was I just some checkbox for the boys here to flick with their quill; to try and get into my pants to say they fucked the fat girl? Was I even pretty enough? Were my friends just my friends because they pitied me and couldn’t dump me after the first year?

The thoughts swirled in my brain, and tears brimmed at my waterline as I curled into myself, clutching my head as I rocked back and forth, a pitiful attempt to try and calm myself down before I fully broke down. I didn’t notice Mattheo standing above me until it was too late.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing out here all alone?” He asked, sitting down next to me as I bit my lip, his presence making my anxiety worse.

“Go away Mattheo; I don’t want to see you,” I quivered, turning my body away from his as I rubbed my arms, the feeling of his hands on me from Thursday ghosting over my skin, even though he wasn’t touching me now.

“I wanted to apologize, (Y/n). It was wrong of me to force myself on you, and I deeply regret my actions. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me, badger,” he spoke, his words whispers on my ears. “But I did mean it when I called you pretty all those times; I truly think you’re one of the prettiest girls at this school, if not the most,” he continued, and I brought my watery gaze to his, already finding his eyes on me. “Please, if not your forgiveness, can I at least ask a dance of you? And perhaps a drink, too?” He pleaded with me, sincerity glazing over his eyes for a moment, and I nodded, not finding the words to speak as he offered me a hand, pulling me up from the steps as I sniffled, rubbing gently at my undereye to not smear the makeup. “Thank you, darling. Now, shall we?” He asked, extending his arm to me, and I slowly linked with him, guiding me through the grand oak doors and down the steps. I could see my friends turn to the late entrance, their focus on me and the man who had me wrapped around his arm. I could see Draco in the back, standing by Pansy and Theo, a faint blush on his cheeks, but a scowl on his face as he saw who I was with. If a grand entrance was what I was hoping for, this was the closest thing to it.

I could feel my dress swooshing behind me and the magic in the air as Mattheo guided me to the dance floor, spinning me gently to face him before he rested a gentle hand on my hip, his firm fingers digging into the fat of my hips before he took my other hand and started dancing. I followed his movements, swaying to the beat of the slow song as other pairs started dancing around us. Looking up, I could see the candles had stayed, floating in the air but accompanied by little stars and constellations. The whole room was magical, quite literally and aesthetically. It was like we were planted in the middle of the woods, looking at the starry sky. Flowers and vines crawled across the floor and walls, an echo of a creek played behind the classical music, and it smelled like fresh rain, along with the cologne Mattheo had put on. I hadn’t realized I was resting my head on his chest until the song ended, and I stepped away with a blush.

“Sorry,” I murmured, hearing him chuckle.

“It’s okay, (Y/n). Why don’t you go mingle with your friends, and I’ll find us something to drink. I did promise a drink, afterall,” he said, shooing me away with a soft smile, and I glanced back while making my way over to Hermione, seeing Mattheo still standing there, a wonderstruck look on his face before he turned to the assortment of drinks and goods by the stairs.

“You danced with Mattheo!” Hemione said, grasping my shoulders as she shook me, a confused look on her face as Cedric and Cho stood there, interlocked in each other’s arms, the same look of confusion on their faces.

“He asked me to dance, and he also apologized. I agreed; I didn’t want to make him feel bad, ‘Mione,” I stated, stepping back as I shrugged.

“Did you accept his apology? After what he did to you?” Cedric spoke up after a moment, his brows furrowing and I shook my head.

“No, at least not verbally. He apologized, and then said ‘if not your forgiveness, at least a dance and a drink after,’ if I recall properly,” I said, sitting at the empty table behind us, seeing Draco make his way over.

“(Y/n), Sherry, right?” Mattheo said, turning my attention back to the curly-haired male. Nodding, I accepted the glass from him with a smile.

“Thank you, Mattheo.”

“No worries. I’ll be right back; they’re refilling the firewhiskey as we speak, so I’m going to go grab a glass for myself,” he responded, sending me a wink before disappearing into the crowd once again.

“He tries to be all goody and nice, I can’t believe the audacity of that man,” Hannah said, scaring me as I whipped around.

“Han! When did you get here?” I asked, bringing the bubbly drink up to my lips, taking a sip. It burned more than normal, and an overwhelming sensation flooded my system, making my head spin as I took another sip, thinking I was just parched.

“When Riddle was giving googly eyes at you,” she rolled her eyes, resting her elbows on the table as she scanned me over. “You don’t look too good, (Y/n). Are you okay?” She asked, reaching over the table to feel my forehead. “Merlin, you’re burning up!”

“I-I’m fine, I swear. It must be the mix of alcohol and dancing. I’ll be alright, Han,” I said, my words slurring together as I felt my face flush again.

“I don’t think it’s that,” Draco’s voice called from behind me, and I turned around again, my vision blurring from the too-sudden movement.

“Dra-Draco.” I greeted, biting my lower lip as I looked up at him, my vision dancing with stars as I tried to focus on him. I heard the chair next to me scrape back, and I could hear Mattheo’s voice. It was muffled though, as if I was underwater.

“I think…I think I’m going to go get some air outside, guys. I’ll be right back,” I mumbled, swaying as I got up from the seat, gripping onto Draco’s bicep as I steadied myself for a moment before making my way outside.

“Too much alcohol for her? I mixed it with the lemon-lime soda she likes,” Mattheo commented, watching as I ascended the staircase and out of everyone’s view.

“Hm…I don’t think it’s that, Riddle. She’s handed much more alcohol than that before,” Cedric chimed in, sending a glare at Mattheo, who threw his hands up in defense.

“I didn’t do anything, I swear. You can ask Ginny; she was at the refreshments with me,” he said, his eyes widening before a loud cough echoed through the speakers.

“Excuse me, students,” McGonagall’s voice spoke through the mic. “It has come to my attention that while we do allow alcoholic beverages here during the yule ball, one of the punch bowls was tainted with. It didn’t seem like too many students took a cup of it, but if you or one of your friends had a cup of Sherry and ingested it, please report to Madame Pomfrey immediately. We do not know what was put in the bowl, but it is urgent that whoever needs it, seeks the antidote right away,” McGonagall finished, and murmurs floated throughout the crowd.

“Oh, fuck,” Mattheo whispered, running a hand through his curls as he leaned back, panic on his face.

“Where’s Draco? Did he have some of the Sherry too?” Hannah asked, glancing over the group. She didn’t know that once Sherry was mentioned by McGonagall, he took off, looking for your whereabouts.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

I don’t know how, but I had found myself in the dungeons, taking solace in its chilly temperature as my body burned. The Sherry tonight was much more potent than usual, and I wanted more after I cooled off. Running my hands along the cool stone walls, my mind flooded with thoughts of Draco. How nice he had been to me, walking me back to my dorm the other night, how lovely his hair always looked. I imagined his lips on mine; how they would feel as his fingers wove into my hair as he peppered my neck with kisses. A small whimper escaped my throat from the thought, and I used the wall to hold myself up, my knees growing weak from the flooding of indecent thoughts about the boy I had known since I was twelve.

“Fuck..” I muttered, sliding against the wall onto the floor, my breath coming out in small pants. Placing my hand over my heart, I could feel it beating a million miles an hour, and my brain was so foggy. The thoughts flooded my mind, and a burning sensation lit in my abdomen, only fueling my thoughts about Draco. What would he be like in bed? Would he treat me good? Does he know what he’s doing, unlike me? Godric, I was horny for this man. I could feel it in my panties, the way they were sticking to me was a sign, but I couldn’t do anything about it, not with this dress on at least.

“Fuck, (Y/n), you feel so good,” his voice echoed in my brain as I tried to steady myself against the wall, a rush of slick pooling in my panties as I let out a choked sob. I could feel the fabric of my bra and bodice brush against my breasts, the friction burning in the most pleasurable way possible. If I didn’t get out of here soon, someone would see me in this pathetic, alcohol-induced state of horniness.

“Be a good girl for me, yeah darling? That’s it,” the voice continued in my head as I staggered along the wall, my shoes scuffing along the floor as I slowly made my way down the hall, my chest heaving with every breath as sweat started to bead on my hairline.

“(Y/n)? Merlin, there you are,” I heard Draco hall from me, and I cursed silently under my breath as I heard him start to run up to me.

“N-No..Draco, don’t come any closer,” I whispered, trying not to let a choked moan escape my throat, the heat between my thighs burning with every step I took. I held out a wavering hand in front of me, a fruitless effort to get him to stop, to leave me alone so there wasn’t another reason to be embarrassed. Feeling his hands on my shoulders, a loud moan ripped from my throat as I collapsed against him, my brain too foggy to care anymore as his hands sent electricity down my spine.

“We..We need to get you to Madame Pomfrey, right now,” Draco said, ignoring the blush on his cheeks and the way his pants tightened from the moan I had let out. He wrapped an arm around my shoulder, helping me steady myself, the blush on my cheeks darker than ever as I gripped the sleeve of his suit, cursing how I wished how I knew he looked under it.

“N..No…I can’t let anyone see me like this!” I exclaimed with all my strength, looking up at him with watery eyes, hoping he could see my plea behind them. After a moment, he sighed and shook his head.

“Fine. I’ll bring you to my dorm, then I’ll get Madame Pomfrey to come see you,” Draco guided you to the Slytherin door, whispering “Pure-Blood.” I watched as the serpent decoration moved, revealing the door to the common room. I let Draco guide me to his room, goosebumps littering my skin as his grip on me tightened. We soon entered his room, and he guided me to his bed. I let out a soft whimper as his hands left my bare skin, letting me sit down on the bed. I relaxed into the soft bedding, only to feel Draco gently brush up the material of my gown, his hands grasping one of my ankles softly.

“Draco..” I whimpered, feeling his slender fingers slide down, slipping my shoe off and placing it by the foot of his bed, repeating the process for the other one.

“It’s gonna be okay, (Y/n),” he whispered, getting up from his crouched position to brush a stray curl behind my ears before he traced a finger along my jawline, sending another jolt of electricity down my spine. “I’m going to go get Madame Pomfrey; stay here, please,” he said, locking his eyes with mine as I nodded, my lips parting slightly. I saw his gaze graze over them, licking his own before he turned and walked out of the room, shutting the door gently. I could hear the echoes of his shoes running down the hall, clicking until he was too far. I let myself fall back on the bed, resting my hand over my eye. I was so confused, the alcohol wasn’t helping my confusion, and I was so fucking horny. Everything stacked on top of each other wasn’t making sense, with Draco, the ball. The only thing I could do was sigh, making the dress shift on me once more, another soft moan leaving my lips.

After a bit, Draco returned, but without Madame Pomfrey. I noticed the shirt in his hands, and a pink blush on his pale cheeks.

“Ma-Madame Pomfrey? Where is she?” I asked, adjusting myself so I could sit on the bed, clenching my thighs as I felt another rush of slick come out of me. I swear my brain was being fried, with how hot I was at this point.

“She’s…she’s occupied, with other students right now,” he coughed, turning his head away as he tossed me the shirt in his hands. “I went to your room too, by the way. Figured you’d want something better to change into while we figure out what to do.”

“Oh, thank you,” I murmured, feeling the soft fabric beneath my fingers. It was an old shirt I had stolen from my dad years ago, I forgot I even owned it. Where Draco found it is beyond me. “You said she’s occupied with other students? Did something happen at the ball?” I asked, reaching around to fiddle with the dress’s zipper, feeling it slide beneath my fingers as I grunted from the loss. “Can you help me?”

“Er, yes,” Draco whispered. His actions were concerning me, to the point where they were fighting against the horniness my brain was screaming release from. “Somebody spiked the Sherry at the ball…she’s trying to help the few other students recover from it,” He mumbled, dragging his fingers along my shoulders, and I couldn’t help but shudder from his ministrations. Hearing the zipper fall, I couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief, the dress constricting more than what I thought, and it felt like I had just taken the first actual breath of air in hours.

“Thank you,” I got up off the bed, shimmying out of the dress as it pooled around my feet. The cool air of his room hit the wetness in my panties, and I let out a small whimper, pulling the oversized shirt over my head. I missed the way Draco’s eyes glazed over me, his eyes stopping at my underwear and his eyes locking in on how dark they had become, and the slick that had dripped onto my thighs, glimmering in the low light. “What…what do we do about…” I asked, shyly gesturing a hand to me as I met his eyes. There was no way I could leave his room, looking like this, but Madame Pomfrey was busy, and it could be hours before she could come here.

“I…er…” Draco coughed, his head turning away from me with a dark blush, sending another bolt of electricity down my spine. I bit my lip to stifle the moan threatening to spill from my lips as I waited for him to continue. “She…she said we could wait, or…” He trailed off again, and I noticed he was fidgeting with his hands. I could only watch as he gathered the strength to say what he was trying to say. “Or we could. Um. They figured out what the potion was. It was a lust potion, and well, the obvious answer is to fuck it out of the person, or wait for it to run its course, which could be hours or even days, depending on how potent it was. Professor Snape and McGonagall are working on an antidote right now,” he rushed out, his hands moving to the front of his trousers, trying to hide the obvious erection he had at the moment. It took a moment for the words to sink into my skin, and another bright blush coated my face, burning so hard I could feel it on my ears.

“O-Oh.” Was all I could squeak out, my hands trembling at my sides as I sat back down on the bed, trying my hardest to ignore the friction the sheets provided against my mostly bare ass.

“I…I could help you,” Draco said, and my head shot up, his light grey eyes locking with my eyes. “I don’t want to see you in pain, (Y/n),” he spoke again, taking a few strides to stand in front of me, and his hand was on the side of my face. If possible, my blush grew hotter as I watched him, feeling his thumb stroke the side of my face gently and I let out a small pant. I felt like a dog in heat, and as much as I wanted to get rid of this potion in my bloodstream, how could I let Draco do this? We’d barely been friends for the term, and now he was offering to help me with this problem?

“Draco- I…I don’t know. We’ve barely been friends for the term; I don’t understand at all,” I started to confess, and the words just kept tumbling out. “You were so mean to me up until this year, and now you’re standing up for me against Riddle, your best friend. You’re walking me to classes and being nice to me, bloody hell, you aren’t sneering at me in potions for doing all the work, even offering to do the paper we have due,” and then it hit me. I had smelt Draco in the Amortentia potion. How could I have not noticed until now? His fragrance hit me again, apples, sandalwood, and peppermint filling my senses once more as he leaned down between my parted thighs, and tears pricked at my waterline again. “Fuck, I’m so stupid,” I mumbled, wiping away at the tears that threatened to spill as his large hands moved to my thighs, continuing to rub them in small, gentle circles.

“You aren’t stupid, (Y/n). If anyone is stupid, I am. I was mean to you because I didn’t know how to process the feelings I had for you when I was younger. Fuck, I still don’t know how. I didn’t want to hurt you anymore this year; I made that decision over the summer while studying potions. I had recreated the Amortentia potion to practice for the NEWTs as well, and I had smelled you; the smell of honeysuckle in your conditioner, the ever-staying smell of vanilla from the Hufflepuff dorms, even the scent of marshmallows,” Draco said, his eyes locking with mine as a hand moved back to my face, gripping it gently. “I realized I was in love with you, (Y/n). I love you a lot more than my pitiful heart can process, and I never want to hurt you again. I regret my actions from the past, more than I can convey, and I want to make it up to you from here on out. I don’t want to take advantage of you, so if you don’t want to, just say the word. I just want to help you,” his words turned quiet as he finished, and there was a twinge in my heart, hearing him say he was in love with me. A few moments passed, letting the quiet around us settle back in before I nodded, grasping his hand that was on my thigh.

“I want you to help me, please,” I said, my heart beating faster with every word I said. I didn’t even realize it sounded like I was begging until after, but I pushed the thought away as he stood up in front of me, a soft smile on his face as he stripped his suit jacket, tossing it across the chair by his desk.

“I’ll help you as best I can, (Y/n). Just lay back for me now,” he whispered, and I obeyed, leaning back on the soft sheets as he settled between my thighs, pushing them a bit farther open as he leaned in over my face. “Is it okay if I kiss you?” He asked, a hand resting against my cheek as I nodded, and that’s all it took for his lips to be on mine. It felt like a million fireworks had gone off in my body as he moved his lips gently against mine, unspoken words behind every movement. Reaching up, I wrapped my arms around his neck, bringing him closer as I kissed him with more fevor. Feeling him shift, I could feel his hips grind against my clothed pussy, eliciting a loud moan from my throat as I pulled away, resting my forehead against his as he let out a soft chuckle.

“You’re so pretty, (Y/n),” he whispered against my lips before kissing me once there, then moving down to my jaw, then neck, leaving wet, opened mouth kisses along the tender skin. Whimpering, I released my arms from around his neck, letting him continue his ministrations, until he was met with the collar of my shirt. “Can I take this off, love?” He asked gently, watching as I nodded, trying to catch my breath. I could feel his cool fingers sliding under my shirt, another whimper leaving me as his hands bunched up the fabric before bringing it off my arms and over my head. “Godric, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, kissing along my collarbone, nipping at a few spots, making me mewl.

“Draco, please,” I moaned, feeling one of his hands come up to cup my breast, kneading it softly through the thin material of my bra. His thumb grazed over my perked nipple, obvious through the fabric before he dipped down, licking over it, a strangled moan escaping me. “Merlin, that feels good,” I managed to get out before he stood back, wiping a hand over his wet mouth.

“Take off your bra,” he demanded, no harshness behind his voice as he started to unbutton his dress shirt, and I complied, digging my fingers under the band as I lifted it over my head, feeling my breasts jiggle as they came back down. Draco’s eyes never left my chest as he finished with his shirt, throwing it off into the room somewhere as he kicked off his shoes before he sat down on the bed. “Come here,” he said, grabbing my hips as he lifted me onto his lap, a soft squeal coming from me as I sat down, feeling his dick poke into my wet panties.

“O-Oh,” I moaned out before his lips crashed back down on mine, his hands sliding down my hips to grab my ass, making me moan before he started grinding me down on him. His fingers dug into the fat of my ass, dragging me across his clothed cock as a moan escaped both of us, my head falling onto his shoulder as he continued the action, low groans flowing into my ear.

“I want you so bad, (Y/n), please,” he begged into my ear, and I nodded into the crevice of his neck, nipping at it gently as I felt his hand slip under me, his slender fingers dragging along my soaked panties. “Fuck, you’re so wet,” he commented, digging his finger between my folds, enjoying the wetness that collected on his fingers before he drew small circles around my clit, a high pitched moan leaving my lips as my hips buckled into his hand, desprate for more friction.

“Draco, please,” I moaned into his ear, grasping his wrist, bringing it closer to my core. Understanding what I wanted, he moved my underwear to the side, dragging a finger along my wet folds before slowly inserting it into me, another moan rippling through me as he pumped it in and out of me, the wet squelching noises lost between my moans. “F-Fuck, it feels-” I shuddered out, tossing my head back before his lips attached to the sensitive spot beneath my ear, nipping at it as he slid another finger in with ease, curling them up into the spot inside me that had me seeing stars. “Draco!” I gasped out, feeling him abuse the gummy spot as I rutted my hips against his hand, his palm catching on my clit. His other hand continued to knead my ass, spurring me closer and closer to the edge. “I-I’m close,” I whimpered out, threading my fingers into his hair and giving a sharp tug right as his fingers pushed me over the edge, my vision spotting as I came on his fingers with a broken moan of his name. Stilling his motions, he left his fingers inside me, using his other hand to grab my chin, smashing his lips on mine. Kissing me, he slipped his fingers out of me, making me whimper at the loss before he flipped us over so he was on top, his lips never leaving mine as he pulled his pants down, taking his underwear with it. I could feel the tip of his cock hit my stomach, and I reached down, grasping it in my hand before I gave him a small pump, a shaky moan leaving his lips.

“Don’t,” Draco murmured against my lips, bringing one of his hands down to stop my hand, and I looked at him with teary eyes.

“I wanna-I wanna make you feel good too, Dray,” I whispered, watching him shake his head in protest.

“No, you come first,” he said against my lips, pulling my hand back up before he tapped my hips. Lifting them, I felt his fingers slide under the band of my panties before slowly taking them off, shuffling a bit so he could take them off my legs. They got thrown over his shoulder somewhere, landing on the floor before his lips landed back on mine. Running his tongue over my lip, I parted them, allowing his tongue to enter, entangling with mine as he gripped my hips, dragging me to the edge of the bed. “Fuck, I know I’m supposed to be helping you, but I want you so bad (Y/n). I can’t wait to feel you,” Draco whispered against my lips, grasping his cock with one hand, dipping it in the slick on my pussy. The action sent a shudder through my body, followed by a moan as he gently pushed in, the fat tip of his cock stretching me farther than I thought it would. Pushing a hand against his chest, I let out some soft pants, feeling the pain melt into pleasure.

“Dray, I’m..I’ve never done this before,” I admitted, watching as he nodded.

“I’ll take care of you, don’t worry,” was all he said before he slowly pushed into me, a guttural moan leaving my lips. Everything burned with desire; Draco was making shallow thrusts, his hands gripping my hips tightly, as though he’d lose me in this act. Shifting my hips a bit, his shallow thrusts hit the same spot that made me see stars with his fingers, and I moaned, biting my lip as I kept moving them in sync with his thrusts.

“More, I need more,” I begged, gripping onto his biceps. I’m sure I left little crescent marks in them from my nails, but that was the least of my worried as Draco started going faster; his shallow thrusts started turning into longer ones, his cock almost leaving my pussy entirely before it would slam back it, making me moan over and over. All of a sudden, it felt like a too tight coil was placed inside me, threatening to snap with each of his thrusts, and my whimpers came out broken, shifting my legs further apart so he could be closer to me. “Dr-Draco!” I let out a loud moan, the coil inside me snapping as my vision saw stars again, and I could make out the grunts coming from him above me, his dick shuddering inside me as my walls clamped around him.

“Fuck, (Y/n), you feel so good,” Draco leaned down, capturing my lips in another kiss as I felt him shudder above, his hips stilling for a moment until it felt hot inside me. He came inside me, and he seemed to realize that as he pulled out slowly, a whimper left me from the sensitivity. “Shit, I didn’t mean to-” He stammered, a hand on his creamy cock as I sat up, my brain feeling less fuzzy than before.

“S’okay, Dray,” I murmured, looking up at him through my lashes. “I’m on the pill; I’ll be okay,” I said with a soft smile, a hand running over his abs, enjoying how they felt under my fingertips.

“Fuck, every word that comes out of your mouth just gets hotter, princess,” he chuckled, making my clench my thighs from the pet name. It didn’t go unnoticed by Draco though, who just let out another chuckle. “You like that, don’t you princess?” He purred, grasping my chin to make me look at him. I could only nod, seeing a smirk come across his face. “Good, because I’m far from done with you. Need to make sure every drop of that potion is fucked out of that little brain of yours, darling,” he said before grasping my thighs and flipping me over, my ass in the air for him to see. His hand met the squishy fat, and a sharp slap echoed through the room, making me moan from the contact. “You’re such a dirty girl, (Y/n). Even though you just got fucked for the first time, I can see you want more,” Draco murmured, and I could feel his hot breath against my pussy, making me shudder.

“Draco, not there, it’s…it’s gross,” I said, a blush coming across my cheeks as I turned around, only seeing his bare shoulders and his platinum hair behind my ass.

“Oh, love, I want to though,” was all he said before licking a stripe up my lips, a strangled moan coming out of me as his tongue dipped into my pussy, sucking and licking everywhere until my legs were shaking and I had come again from his tongue. I was so sensitive, and I could feel myself clenching around nothing, and a soft laugh sent vibrations through me, goosebumps littering my skin as Draco removed his face from my pussy, all evidence of his cum and mine gone, only leaving his saliva and new waves of slick on me.

“It’s going to be a long night, princess, I hope you’re ready,” Draco said, shifting behind me as he gripped my hips before filling me up with one long and hard thrust, sending me forwards onto his bed.

Oh Merlin.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

I woke up to sunlight streaming on the bed, warming my thighs, and for a moment, I couldn’t remember where I was. All I cared about was cuddling back into Draco’s chest, ignoring the world around us.

Wait.

Draco.

I was in his bed, in a t-shirt and no underwear.

Sitting up, I ran a hand through my hair, untangling the knots that had formed, and my back ached. Looking around, I saw Draco asleep, right next to where I just was. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and from the looks of it, only boxers, which made my cheeks light up as I hid my face in my hands. Memories of last night came flooding into my brain; the Sherry being spiked with a lust potion, Draco finding me by the Slytherin commons, him offering to help me because he didn’t want to see me in pain, and mostly, him fucking me brainless on almost every surface in his room. His bed, his desk, against his dresser. I don’t remember if there was a spot where his dick wasn’t inside me. Feeling him shift next to me, I looked down to see his grey eyes looking at me, messy hair covering his forehead, and I felt my heart flutter a bit.

“G’morning, love,” he said, his voice husky with sleep as he sat up next to me, a soft smile coming to both our faces. “Did you sleep alright?”

“Ah, yes, I did. Um…thank you, Draco,” I said, peeling my eyes away from his as I looked at my lap, clutching my hands together. It was probably a one night stand; he probably pitied how pathetic I was last night, and wanted to get some points with Crabbe and Goyle. The thought brought tears to my eyes, and I sniffled a bit, remembering how I smelled him in the Amortentia. There was no doubt that I liked him, but he probably didn’t like me back, so what was the point in staying around? Shifting, I let my legs dangle over the edge of the bed before I pushed myself up, my knees buckling underneath me and in one swift motion, Draco was by the edge of the bed, holding me up by my hips.

“Where are you going?” He asked, his voice soft.

I gulped, unsure of if I should tell him the truth. “I…I’m leaving. You can tell Crabbe and Goyle you bedded me, and get the bet money. I can be another checkmark on your list of boxes, I just can’t be here anymore,” I whispered out, my voice cracking as I tried to ignore the way his hands gripped my hips tighter as I spoke.

“Bet money? (Y/n), what are you talking about, love?”

“I-I know you were just trying to help me, but I know I’m just another game to you. Fuck the fat girl, get the money. I know how it goes, Draco,” I spoke, my voice quivering as I fought back the tears that threatened to fall as I looked at him. He looked...heartbroken, and confused, which only fueled my confusion as his mouth opened to talk.

“(Y/n), darling. There was no bet, for Merlin’s sake. I helped you because I wanted to, not because you were a box for me to check off. I love you, have I not made that clear enough?” He asked, guiding me back onto the bed and onto his lap, wrapping his arms around my waist.

“I..I thought you didn’t mean it last night. Godric’s sake, look at me Draco. I’m nothing like Pansy, or Hermione, or Cho, or any of the other girls here. You could have so much better than…than me,” I said quietly, the tears finally falling. I knew my worth, and in comparison to the other girls here, I was close to the bottom of the list, if not at the very bottom.

“(Y/n), look at me, please,” Draco asked, placing a hand on my jaw, his thumb rubbing small circles on my cheek as he guided me to look at him. I could see the hurt in his eyes, and the frown that was on his face. “Yes, those other girls are pretty, but they hold no light next to you. You are the brightest light in my life, the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on. You’re so smart, witty, hardworking, I could go on and on for hours about the things I love about you. You are all I’ve ever wanted, and more. If anything, I don’t deserve you,” he spoke, and I could hear the sincerity lacing every one of his words as he wiped the tears from my face. “I meant it when I said I loved you. I love you more than words could ever describe, and I’m so glad it was you I smelled in the Amortentia over the summer, and even in class. It hurt my heart to say it wasn’t you I smelled, but I didn’t know what else to do. I don’t know how much more I can say or even do to make you believe I love you, but I will keep trying and saying and doing things until you believe me, love.”

Nodding, a soft smile came back onto my face. “Maybe another kiss will make me believe you,” I whispered, causing Draco to laugh.

“If that’s what it’ll take, then I’ll kiss you til the day I die,” he said before pressing his lips against mine, weaving his hand that was on my jaw into my hair as our lips moved in sync for a few moments. Pulling away, I let out a small giggle, pressing my forehead against his before another thought came into my mind.

“Dray?” I asked, pulling away a bit to see his face.

“Yes, love?”

“Does this mean..we’re like..together?”

“Is it not obvious?”

“Well, you never asked me, so…”

“Merlin, (Y/n). You’re going to be the death of me,” he laughed, grasping my hand as his other one untangled itself from my hair, going back to its place on my jaw. “Will you be my girlfriend, (Y/n) (L/n), the most beautiful Hufflepuff and woman to ever walk the face of this earth,” he asked, making me laugh.

“I thought you’d never ask,” I said, smiling as I leaned in for another kiss before pulling away again, making Draco groan. “You still have to do the essay today, love,” I reminded him, a cheeky smile coming to my face as I saw him roll his eyes before he leaned back down, taking me with him with a squeal.

“Let me have this moment with my girlfriend, (Y/n). Then we can talk academics.”

[jq37]

The Report Card – Fantasy High Junior Year Ep 10

Maximum Loser

Welcome back to Fantasy High where the Abernant sisters are having sandwiches in front of the burnt ruins of their old mansion. You know, normal sibling activities! As we learned last week, Aelwyn is working for Kipperlilly (Adaine calls her Cottoncandy Bitchfuck which is one of my faves just for the levels of obvious disdain and degrees of separation from the original name) and Adaine wants all the info ASAP. Here is a rundown of what Aelwyn tells her (along with speculation on my part):

KP seems to be loaded in a way that isn’t connected to her parents' jobs (Dad is a realtor and mom is a clerk for the treasurer’s office). [Could she possibly be getting the money from her party member with a rich dragon ancestor? And could she be using her mom’s government job to get inside info somehow?]

KP has been employing Aelwyn as her “arcane errand girl”. She’s basically been getting her magical contraband which Aelwyn figures are spell components. Adaine asks why their party wizard Oisin can’t just do it and Aelwyn says that KP was very adamant about him being “protected”. [Does that mean protected as in not in trouble so he doesn’t get expelled and mess up their party comp or protected as in “I don’t want him to know what I’m doing because he wouldn’t approve”?]

KP never had Aelwyn steal a cloud rider engine for her but she did have Aelwyn download schematics for one which she thinks was so that it would be on her browser history not KP’s. [Aelwyn, do NOT get framed for this girl’s crimes I’m BEGGING you.]

Similarly, KP never texts Aelwyn any info. They always talk in person so she keeps clean at least on paper. 

There are two specific things that Aelwyn had to procure that were kind of hard to find because they’re more divine than arcane: Devil’s Nectar and Ambrosia. [We don’t learn what the properties of those are exactly but they seem pretty clearly to be the divine and infernal versions of the same thing. Maybe they can make a god or a devil? Sounds like it’s part of the resurrection plan–or maybe they want to raise a new god?]

Anyway, Aelwyn promises to shoot Adaine a text the next time KP reaches out to her so she can spy via scrying (I'm reminded of Spy, Tongue, Curse again). She also shows Adaine her tiny apartment full of senior cats and microwave dinner trays that’s sorely in need of a deep clean. Adaine invites her to swing by Mordred to get her laundry done and maybe hang out and Aelwyn seems tentatively receptive, even though the aggressive positivity of the house and its residents (who she does ultimately care about) majorly grates on her. 

[Also! Not plot relevant but their relationship progress is in full swing with open “I love yous”, only slightly undercut “I believe in yous”, and kisses blown as they say goodbye. I’m trying to be super streamlined with this recap so I can get it finished on time but I had to at least quickly mention how delighted I was by this scene which I have watched so many times. They’re doing it! Sisters!]

We next cut over to Riz who is in the car with his mom and he’s so so so over this whole semester. He keeps talking about everything that’s going on with the bored, anxious, almost whiny, but mostly resigned tone that makes her pull over and force him into a nap. Here are the mystery relevant bits of their conversation pre and post nap:

Sklonda’s case was defending a married firbolg couple–Alonso and Hespia Loam. Frosty Faire was supposed to be held at their farm but then they were accused of embezzling and the event pulled. [Firblog are giant-kin if that matters.]

They maintained their innocence and Sklonda believed them. The case was actually going to be a slam dunk because they found forgeries and docs submitted on their behalf. But then they got murdered so the case was over. [Forgeries and docs submitted on their behalf reminds me of Lucy’s god change form.]

Sklonda thought this case was strange because there’s no financial incentive to frame the loams. [Sounds like the motive could have been just moving the festival to a different location to me.]

The reason they were under suspicion was that amounts of money matching what was embezzled from Frosty Faire were deposited into the Loams' account but Sklonda was able to show that that was all bogus and that the Loams didn’t even use online banking and that a Bastion City VPN was involved. But again, before they could track that down beyond “somewhere in Solace” it got shut down due to the murders (which the cops are now investigating btw but this is a Brennan story so how useful will they really be? [This is also giving me KP vibes but in fairness, that girl is just suspicious.]

Lola Embers is the one who recommended the move from Loam Farms to the Thistlespring Tree. [A possible Ruben request since he’s her client?]

Riz also tells Sklonda all about what’s going on with the demon stuff and the Lucy stuff and the campaign stuff. Sklonda is concerned about the demon stuff but she’s honestly more concerned about Riz breaking his back and losing sleep over Kristen’s campaign. She’s very fired up and a bit incredulous that he’d work so hard for his friends who, from her POV, are always slightly bullying him (“Your name isn’t The Ball. It’s Riz!”). And, while she’s on it, he would be a great candidate himself! Riz assures her that their dynamic is fine and then worries her again right away by saying he’s absolutely gonna check out the crime scene. She sighs deeply and says they can check it out together because she knows she’s not talking her son out of it. (She also says she’ll try and get some info from her old co-workers but again, cops in a Brennan world so we’ll see how useful they are.)

Post Grix exploding, Jace hosts an impromptu assembly: Things are bad y’all! With Aguefort gone and Grix blown up (not to mention Yolanda dead), they’re getting to the point where it’s not clear that the school will be able to continue functioning. 

The whole cleric track is going pass/fail which none of the Rat Grinders seem to have strong reactions to (Ruben smirks and Buddy looks confused, but the rest look bored or unfazed). This news especially sucks for Freshmen and Sophomores who won’t be able to take the Last Stand exam Porter mentioned in an earlier episode. Some upperclassmen who maybe weren’t doing so hot (like Max and his party) look kinda stoked. Fig does insight on Jace and her roll is low (5) but he seems like he’s sincerely stressed about this unforeseen situation. 

Post assembly, Hilariel calls Fig (after 18 missed calls to Fabin’s phone which is on Do Not Disturb) to invite everyone over to spend The Lunar Yulenear (fantasy Christmas) with them (and also inform her that Gilear’s string of good luck is still going strong. He cracked his back while limboing and grained 2 inches in height!). Fig turns that into invites for everyone at Mordred (including Aelwyn who is a wanted criminal in Falinel and Sandra-Lynn who is Gilear’s unfaithful ex–wild crew). Fabian wants the chance to talk to his mom but by the time Fig hands over the phone, she’s already hung up. 

Riz fills everyone in on the Loam Farms situation and Gorgug worries that the soil at his house is corrupted now. Adaine reminds everyone that Fig is still super cursed and they should probably start looking into that soon. Kristen and Fig get naked for no reason so we’re gonna move on from that to Fabian getting a text from Mazey. Apparently she's just gotten some big news and she doesn’t know exactly who to talk to. He rushes away from his naked friends as quickly as he can (so valid) and goes to meet up with her. (While he’s en route, Riz wonders if the RG’s killed rats were being killed sacrificially and Fig wonders if Lucky FROSTblade had anything to do with the FROSTyfolk festival). 

Fabian meets up with Mazey who congratulates him for killing Grix since he mega-sucked and was shooting nets at kids. Then, she says that she knows that Fabian and his party have kinda always had the school’s back over the past few years and she trusts him which is why she’s telling him what she’s about to say. Remember how anything Aguefort says, even as a bit, is canon? Well, apparently he said once in an email that if there’s no principal then the school becomes a democracy and the student body president becomes principal. Fabian is baffled: surely the vice principal would become principal, right? But no. The system is set up so that there’s always one all powerful principal and one VP who is supposed to be Kalvaxus (remember, he was supposed to be imprisoned there forever). So she’d have to take classes (has to be a student enrolled in good faith) AND be principal and she doesn’t feel like she can do it. Fabian is awkward but encouraging and says he’ll do his best to help her and ask his friends for advice. When he does, Riz right away is like, "They’re gonna kill her, dude,” so Fabian rushes back and invites (practically begs) Mazey over after school so he can keep an eye on her. 

Once school is out, Fig does her bodyguard thing and secretly trails Mazey so she gets to Seacaster Manor safely. Once she’s there, she and Fabian have a bit of an awkward beat and then Mazey, who has clearly misread the situation, tries to make out with him. Fabian pulls back which makes Mazey confused and embarrassed. Fabian really quickly tries to reassure her that it’s not that he didn’t wanna kiss her. He’s just not in that mode right now and she’s in danger and they’re trying to kill her. She has NO idea what he’s talking about so he Facetimes Riz and the Mordred crew to explain. Mazey says that killing her wouldn’t make the killer the new Principal–it’s not Pokemon Champion rules. But Riz says that every person who’s had the top spot has been sidelined or killed so it’s safer to be careful. Maybe killing her would prompt an early election and whoever wins will be promoted early. She asks if this suspicion is just because they hate the Rat Grinders and Riz says that they have good reasons to be suspicious. They are all outraged though when Mazey says that the Ratgrinders famously hate them and have since Freshman year. [Hilarious that they were apparently publicly seething and haven’t been on the BK’s radar at all.]

Anyway, Mazey says she appreciates the concern but rushes to leave, embarrassed. Fabian tries to salvage the awkward encounter and tell Mazey that his reaction was about how stressed and worried he is, not about how he feels about her and Mazey seems genuinely concerned about him. Like, as a person. Is he eating? Is he sleeping? Is he being cared for in this big empty house? Fabian musters some bravado about how he’s a legend and the legend continues but it’s mixed in with some super obvious red flags about making his house a place people want to come to so he won’t be alone. Mazey says she’d still want to hang with him even if he wasn’t a Maximum Legend and then leaves to his cavernous, home, solo. 

Back to Adaine! Her next big roll is Mystery and she wants to learn about the giants and their gods. She uses a portent to get a 27 (which she needs because clues cost more right now) and here’s what she learns:

So first off, Ruvina is a Seasonal god (Winter) vs Sol, Helio, Cass, and Galicaea who are Celestial gods (Sun, Moon).

A bridal gift would only be given to the spouse of a sibling so that means that the missing dead god is Ruvina’s sibling. Brennan specifically mentions how hard/weird/complicated it would be to be prevented by Oblivati Mori from speaking of a spouse or sibling. 

There’s no mention of the missing god but there are mentions of the OTHER seasonal gods so Adaine can determine by process of elimination that the missing god is the summer one. 

She wonders if Sol or Helio stole the summer domain since they’re sun gods but Brennan said if they did, it wasn’t in one violent act. There’s no obvious crusade or anything like that. 

There is a certain point where “Sun” starts being capitalized like a name (like how in the Bible God is He not he). 

The bridal gift is only mentioned in early texts, not recent ones. Recent texts have a lot of mentions of fire. 

She doesn’t find any text concerning the gods followers. She does however find text that says “Beware the blades of the red fire”. These seem to be connected to the shatter star rage crystals but there's no clear timeline of them showing up once the god died. It seems like they existed at the same time. 

So, a lot of info but no big Aha! moment yet. 

She rolls Work for her third track and fails so she takes a stress token (up to three now). She only rolls well enough to not get fired (which, girl, just get fired! Make money another way! Ask your newly caring sister for some funds and don’t ask where she got them!). 

Lastly she rolls to relax but fails (been there girl) and has a deeply unsatisfying massage given to her by Lydia. 

Kristen is up next and her first roll is Popularity (makes sense) on the middle schoolers (you lost me). In fairness to Ally, there is method to their madness. They said in the Adventuring Party that the idea was that the school is across the street from where the bodies were found so maybe they could do some recon. Still, on the face of it, bonkers plan and Riz is low key wondering if his mom was right about them picking the wrong candidate. Anyway, she passes and now has advantage on charming any new middle schooler she meets lol. Brennan also makes her roll Perception and on a 14 gives her nothing. Ominous! 

The second thing she’s interested in is Relationships and she wants to talk to Lydia and also Buddy. With Lydia, she wants to know if there’s a way for them to talk to Bakur. Lydia says that Bakur is conscious and aware but she can’t talk to him because it would compromise the security of his gem prison. However, if they come up with a safe way to talk to him she’s game to participate, especially since she’ll def be a target if stuff with Bakur’s god is going down. Lydia also mentions that it seems like Cass might have been especially vulnerable in the Astral Food Court which makes Kristen even more suspicious of Kalina than she already was since she was the one who suggested that plan in the first place. 

Riz does Detect Evil on Lydia with his necktie so he can recognize Bakur’s magical aura on anyone else in the future and Brennan says that will also give him the ability to recognize anyone connected to Bakur’s god in the future. (Riz also says he wants to do the same on a Helioic cleric and the moon, presumably for the same reason but he doesn’t explicitly get to it this session). 

They then check on Fig to try to figure out what the heck her deal is and they find a lot lol. There are four main things happening with her aura. The strongest is the anarchy sigil on her forehead that marks her as the Archdevil of Rebellion. The second is her burgeoning paladin rage aura which matches Lydia's but seems more fiery and is also unaligned. The third is her warlock mojo which is unaligned as well. And the fourth is the lemony yellow aura of her curse. Her being a tiefling doesn’t even crack the top five of what’s going on with her apparently! 

Anyway, on to her second relationship thing–Buddy. Kristen finds him putting a Rat Grinders sticker on her locker which she peels off, clearly annoyed. There are three main important parts of that conversation which are as follows:

Kristen asks if there’s any rage talk happening at the Helioic church right now and Buddy says that Sol is angry–lots of people left the church during the months of night situation which makes sense. Worshiping the sun god during eternal night feels like a losing proposition. 

Buddy thinks it would be a great idea for his grandpa–Helioic evangelist Bobby Dawn–to become the new Cleric teacher to save everyone from going Pass/Fail. Kristen thinks that sounds like a nightmare and I have to agree. Buddy says that it’s fine because the cleric teacher has to worship *some* god, right? Might as well be Helio. But we know that’s untrue because Yolanda gave up her active connection with a specific divinity in order to minister effectively to her whole class. And I can’t imagine whoever raised Buddy would make a fair teacher who’s welcoming to all faiths. 

Buddy wants to “take Kristen into counsel” about her brother who he thinks is going down a dangerous path as he’s being exposed to various worldly elements at Aguefort. I have no idea what Buddy considers a dangerous path–for all we know Bucky is actually fully fine and coming into his own. Buddy offers to take Bucky under his wing and Kristen casually but very firmly says, “I’ll never let you do that.” [She really should check on him though, just in general.]

They close the conversation off with some faux cheerful/polite sniping about how Kristen’s god died again (point Buddy) that ends with Kristen saying that Cass will come back again as opposed to Helio who only came back once (point Kristen!). [She also tells Buddy, as she’s wont to do, that she met Helio and thought he was a total frat boy loser–just mentioning it in case it comes up again. He seems pretty sure that Kristen will come around though. Tres prodigal son.] 

Fig’s turn! She aces her Paladin, Bard, and Warlock classes–A+ across the board. [She gets to roll her Bard class at a DC 5 even though it’s her second track for reasons Brennan doesn’t tell us. We also learn that Lucilla Lullaby is now on sabbatical after her conversation with Fig. Girl, go to therapy.]

Anyway, Fig is working with Porter and Zara and they want to talk to her. She’ll have to pick her pact soon and though she’s doing really well, they’re not quite buying that her powers are coming from her deviation to Cass or doubt. Porter recognizes that protective, German Shepherd energy in her and when Fig floats rage (protective rage) as what’s motivating her, he has a positive reaction. Him jumping on the rage thing would already be a little suspicious but the next thing he says is, "If there was some other power like that that you knew could support Cassandra, [and] was connected to your friend Kristen, maybe that's a worthwhile thing to explore.” And I very much want to know if that’s a Porter nudge or a Brennan nudge because that really sounds like he’s hinting towards Cass’s sibling. Incidentally, Porter is an Oath of Ancestors paladin and an earth gensai since we’re keeping track of affiliations. 

For her next track, Fig wants to roll Mustery and ooh boy, Nat 20!

Here’s her bonkers/genius plan: She disguises herself as Wanda and boards a bus she knows Ruben will be on from all her recon. Adaine casts Nystul's Magic Aura on her to make sure that any detection spells will ping as whatever they want them to and not Fig. When Ruben boards the bus, she says that when she made a hasty exit after the festival she was breaking up with her boyfriend and when he asks what music she’s listening to, she shows him a fake episode of the Complicated Women Podcast about Lucy Frostblade. Ruben is instantly rattled and starts looking for the podcast but “Wanda” says it was an early release episode she got because she knows the producers. She lies and says they’re talking bout how they found Lucy’s body and Ruben says he used to be in a party with her. When Fig asks what she was like, Ruben speaks positively of her. She says she was noble and stuck to her guns. He’s really itching to get more info about the podcast and Fig says that she’ll send him the MP3 if he gives her an email. Ruben gives her Lola’s email (They have SOL instead of AOL in Solace) and his cell and then Fig Dimension Doors away, mysterious as ever. 

For her final action, she tries to roll Relationships for Riz but she doesn’t roll high enough to catch him with how busy he is. She still leaves him a nice note and signs it from Gorgug. In response to that, Riz sends back a very long, gushy text that’s so grateful for the check in. Gorgug has no idea what he’s talking about but returns the gesture by making him an Artificer Infusion: A Medal of Wit which gives advantage on Int checks and throws for an hour (one time use). Cute all around!

Let’s close out the episode with Fabian. Popularity: 29. He’s maxed out the track. Any stranger he meets at Aguefort is charmed by him for a minute. He gets a neck tattoo that says Maximum Legend. For Mystery, he wants to check in with his dad to ask about Hell/Curse stuff (but he clearly mostly just wants to hear from his dad). He fails and takes a stress to succeed with the help of the AV Club. Skrank and Shellford help him set up a little broadcasting booth that can reach the Nine Hells assuming Bill has the correct equipment. He tries to broadcast and the equipment is working correctly but Brennan rolls a 3 in front of the board so he gets no response. He speaks into the void about how he’s a Maximum Legend while in his house, utterly alone. 

He rolls for Fighter: B. He rolls for Owlbears. Fail. He rolls for Bard–the DC is 25 and he gets a 24. He’s at four stress so the next token will be a rage token. The table persuades him to take Fig’s cursed Bardic instead. He gets a single point which gets him to the 25 which is a D. Then Brennan gives him a Con save. He fails. Brennan says that, with that fail, he loses control of an important bodily function. He gets to choose which one it is and in front of who like a nasty game of Clue and…look. I’m gonna try and say this as delicately as possible but Lou is not making this easy for me. Lou’s decision is that he will lose control of his bowels in the middle of bard class. That’s as far into it as I’m gonna go–if you want the gritty details you’ll have to get them from the man himself. 

Terpsicore, his teacher, is very supportive and kind about it, but one of his classmates, Quincy, takes his lute and breaks it, calls Fabian a Maximum Loser, and quits Aguefort on the spot. He headbutts the door, making his head bleed, and says, “I fucking hate this school!” 

Which, on the one hand, valid sentiment to the latest bout of (almost literal in this instance) Aguefort bullshit. But headbutting the door to the point that he’s bleeding? Sounds a little bit like rage star effects to me. Is it connected? Or was this just the last shitty straw for Quincy? We’ll have to tune in next time to find out!

Honor Roll

Fig for Her Clutch Investigation Skills

Fig has honestly been killing it just in general lately. A pluses across the board? What a GPA jump! But I have to particularly commend her for skillfully keeping Ruben on the hook the way she has. This is maybe her most perfect ratio of bit to plan so far. It’s so funny but also going so well. And that Nat 20? Chef’s Kiss. 

Detention 

Lou (the player) for Describing [REDACTED]in Graphic Detail

I don’t care if Quincy was affected by the rage star or not. He was right. That *was* nasty. 

[thoughtsforsoob]

txt - how their help their academically burnt out s/o

a/n: welcome back! this one is extremely self indulgent bc yeah. also, this is for whoever is struggling in school rn or whoever has struggled in school in the past. I wish I could confidently tell you it gets better (I’m sure it will) but I don’t feel that way at the moment. So, without further ado, enjoy this writing! Requests are also open!

warnings: discussion of depression, burnout, etc… other than that, comfort all around. Lmk if I missed something :)

yeonjun

takes such good care of you during these times. he physically had to pry you off of your desk chair for you to even listen to him. "babe! listen to me and get up off that chair! you need a break this instant!" he immediately prepares a warm bath for the both of you to enjoy, you in the tub and him on the side, helping you wash your hair and keeping you company. After, he takes your towel out of the dryer and brings it so you can dry off and he helps you do skin care and anything else you have in your routine. the best way he knows how to help is with acts of service and not as many words.

soobin

he only finds out you’re burnt out during a midnight conversation. He’s asking about school and you casually mention how you feel burnt out and like you just wanna call it quits. he was stunned by how casual you spoke of wanting to leave school behind because he always listened attentively when you spoke about how much school meant to you and how much you wanted your degree. he immediately sits up and the tone switches to something more serious. “are you sure? let’s talk about this. i just want to make sure your making the decision that’s going to make you happy.”

beomgyu

he knows that this is not the time to act silly. his usually unserious personality does a 180 when he realizes the state you’re in. at your desk, sobbing into your hands, papers and notebooks scattered about the desk and your laptop open to your current assignment. he keeps calm and walks up to you, place a gentle hand on your back. “My dear? What’s the matter?” If you allow him to, he’ll hold you throughout your whole crying session. He just wants to comfort you and help you figure out where to go from your current position. he hates to see his s/o suffer this way.

taehyun

so understanding. I feel like he is the type that if he sees you with your hands all tangled up in your hair pulling at your roots, he would gently hold your wrists before you can pull anymore and kiss your hands. "come on, my love. let's take a break? talk this out? ill make you some milk tea (or whatever your favorite drink is :)." he understands the stress of having so much pressure on your shoulder so he just does what he would want you to do for him (which you always do!) he helps you figure out the best course of action to go about dealing with burn out. if you need a break from school next semester, he won't fight you because he knows you need it. Supports you no matter what.

heuning kai

the pout on this boy's face when he finds out is unreal. he always assures you you can go up to him at any time to ask for a hug and that's exactly what you did. your face was red and puffy from crying about your last assignment and how burnt out you felt. he shows his little pout and holds you as close as possible to his chest. "my love. wanna go cuddle for a while?" please agree because this is the best way he knows how to help you. he knows he'll probably ever understand what you're going through, so he tries his best to be as sympathetic as possible.

[bigredsartt]

sneek peek of my hsmtmts season 5 (madlyn edition) fic 😈

~

Lively Christmas music sounded from the living room as the Wildcats gathered around the tree at the Caswell house. Maddox was lazily sprawled on the couch with her head in Ashlyn’s lap as Jet showed off a new drone that he had just unwrapped, smiling excitedly.

“Okay Maddie, it’s your turn,” Ashlyn said, gently nudging her shoulder. Maddox sat up with a yawn and reached for her last gift left under the tree, wrapped in EJ’s signature sparkly red wrapping paper. She tore it open to reveal a retro digital camera, decorated with funky stickers and had ‘Gadget’ written across it with paint pen.

“Whoa, this is awesome!” She held it up, examining it closer.

EJ beamed. “Thought you might like it. Especially since you’re the head PA of Romeo and Juliet.” He nudged Maddox playfully, who swatted him away with a laugh. “It’s not a big deal.”

EJ rolled his eyes, but left it at that.

Maddox smiled tiredly. It had been a long few months working as the head Production Assistant of such a big movie, which was so close to wrapping. Between twelve hour shifts, logistical nightmares, and keeping all the various departments running smoothly, Maddox was definitely feeling burnt out. Not that she’d ever admit that to the ever-worrying Ashlyn.

Maddox watched fondly as her girlfriend modeled the hat and scarf that Gina had knitted her, heart warming at the girl’s obvious joy. At the same time, though, a thread of fear nagged at the back of her mind. Would she have enough energy to support Ashlyn during the spring musical as a stage manager? Ashlyn said that she had previous luck with spring musicals at East High, and Maddox didn’t want to let her down.

But there was no way she was admitting any weakness, not when Ashlyn always got that anxious crease between her brows when Maddox so much as yawned too loudly these days. It was better to pretend that Maddox was still her usual energetic, spunky self.

As the gift exchange wound down and conversations shifted to dinner plans, Maddox curled into Ashlyn’s side with a content sigh. Her girlfriend’s arm wrapped around her waist, comforting as always.

“How are you feeling?” Maddox heard Ashlyn’s soft voice pull her away from the distinct conversations that she was eavesdropping on from all over the living room. Maddox sighed. Of course Ashlyn saw straight through her attempted nonchalance.

“I’m okay Ash, I promise,” Maddox reassured, her voice stern but soft. “Just ready for a nice, quiet break is all. But then it’ll be time for the musical!” Her voice was laced with forced enthusiasm.

She watched Ashlyn study her face carefully, clearly not convinced. “You know, if you need the semester off from extracurriculars, no one would blame you.”

“No way, I need to be with you guys for the musical. It will be fun, I swear!” Maddox insisted, sitting up straighter to prove her energy. 

Ashlyn still frowned, her eyes full of concern. “I don’t want you to burn out, that’s all. You work so hard and deserve a break.”

Maddox opened her mouth to protest, but was cut off by Kourtney’s excited squeal.

“Guys, look! A Christmas Story is on! We have to watch, it’s tradition,” she said, grabbing the remote.

A reprieve from a difficult conversation– Maddox shot Ashlyn a reassuring look and snuggled back into her side to watch the movie. Her girlfriend still seemed wary, but dutifully wrapped both arms around Maddox and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

The movie played out as they all chatted and snacked, buoyed by the nostalgic Christmas spirit. But too soon, it was over, and they began packing up to head to Denny’s. Maddox stretched with a groan and got up slowly, drawing a worried glance from Ashlyn.

“If you want to stay here and rest, we can. You clearly haven’t had a full night’s sleep in weeks and I don’t want you to keep pushing just for us.”

Maddox flashed Ashlyn a quick smile, standing up quickly. “I’m fine, I promise. Let’s go get some pancakes!”

The Wildcats soon piled into cars, Kourtney riding shotgun with EJ as Maddox followed behind with Ashlyn and Jet. The diner was packed with other last-minute Christmas patrons, but their usual booth was still thankfully open. They squished in together; Maddox happily sandwiched between Ashlyn and EJ, with Kourtney and Jet across from them. Ricky and Gina arrived soon after; Gina taking her place beside Kourtney while Ricky pulled up a chair at the end of the table.

After placing a multitude of food orders, easy conversation flowed as everyone recalled highlights from the gift exchange, and discussed the possibilities of the spring musical.

Maddox chimed in when prompted, but found herself drifting in and out of focus, exhaustion catching up to her at last. She leaned heavily into Ashlyn’s side, barely noticing when their plates arrived, filled with pancakes, eggs, and hashbrowns.

A concerned call of her name brought Maddox’s head up with a start. Ashlyn was peering at her worriedly, gently pushing her plate closer. “Your food’s here.”

Maddox rubbed her eyes with a sigh. “Thanks, sorry. I think you might be right about the ‘no sleep’ thing catching up to me,” she joked halfheartedly.

Ashlyn only nodded slowly and put a hand on the girl’s knee. “We can go home after you eat, okay? EJ won’t mind if we take his car.”

Maddox nodded gratefully, too tired to protest further. The idea of curling up in Ashlyn’s arms for the night was all the motivation Maddox needed to tolerate the Wildcats any further. She dug into her pancakes quickly, listening into her friends’ conversations once again.

By the time they finished eating, Maddox was drooping where she sat. It was quite funny to the group, who made jokes about both Maddox and Gina practically falling asleep in their food the entire dinner. Maddox didn’t even notice that Gina was as exhausted as her.

Ashlyn took charge immediately, hugging her friends goodbye and hustling Maddox into the car. The girl looked back to see Ricky doing the same, giggling to herself at the idea of the rest of her friends being stranded at Denny’s. She heard Ashlyn call something back to EJ, telling him that she’d be back soon.

Soon enough, Maddox was being driven back to her girlfriend’s house. The street lights were almost hypnotic out the window as Ashlyn drove them through the quiet Christmas streets. Maddox drifted in and out, lulled by the smooth rumble of the engine and the rhythmic sounds of the wipers against the light snow.

Her blinks became slower, until finally, they stopped. Her breathing evened out as sleep claimed her in the passenger seat of EJ’s car.

~

erm yeah there will be multiple chapters, and this is just the prologue, AND i have it all planned out already, so expect that soon!!!

[rocklover719]

Mini rant

The academic burnout is hitting HARD. Senior year of my undergrad geology degree and BOY I’m tired. I’ve had 8 exams this semester and only one was a “final”. I’m barely starting on my term paper for geochem due Friday. I’ve got my structural geology final tomorrow and my hydrogeology final on Thursday.

I’ve moved apartments completely in the middle of midterms, I’m on the verge of quitting my job. And you know what? That FUCKER that copies off everyone’s work is going to be allowed to pass this class! Yeah, the one my lovely friend @thezoraprince wrote a thing for me about? That dipshit has been absent half the semester, leaves early for every test and lab, takes photos of other people’s work, and the T.A and professor will probably let him pass anyways.

It sucks to be so burnt out and tired, working my ass off and crying from the stress while this absolute FUCKNUT gets to pass because it would be detrimental if he didn’t!?

FUCKK YOUUUU

anyways, I need to study.

[sketchy-rosewitch]

For my own mental sack, can I have Bo telling his burnt out, stressed, drained college gf that she’s doing a great job at the book she’s been writing for college? Maybe forcing her to cuddle in bed while there’s one hell of a storm outside? I’m in need 🥹🥹🥹

Thank you 💜

Comfort: Bo Sinclair x f!reader

A/N: my bad on taking so long on this totally did not mean to do that. Also my bad on it being short too 🫡 also also we get a hug because hugs are comforting

Your eyes droop at you stare at the computer screen.

One more paragraph and you’re done for the night. Your brain felt absolutely fried and you I wanted so badly to give up and shut your computer down but that meant even more writing tomorrow.

The front door opens and shut as thunder rumbles throughout the sky. Bo’s home. You promised him you’d be done by the time he got back. You groan and sigh loudly. Getting frustrated with yourself and how bad you are at procrastinating.

Your boyfriend walks up to you and kisses your forehead.

“Go-“

“I just have one more paragraph Bo, just let me finish.” You whine. Bo tsks.

“No, go get some water and a snack and let me look over your paper. Then we’re going relax together, we gotta make sure that brain is refreshed for tomorrow.” Bo explains. You frown and nod, going into the kitchen and pulling out some fruit snacks and cookies and grabbing a water bottle from the fridge.

It takes Bo about 5 minutes to skim through your work, you hear the laptop shut as the rain patters against the window. The noise calms you and you sigh, finishing up your fruit snacks and throwing the packet in the trash.

Bo hugs you tightly and rubs your shoulders getting the tension out. You smile and kiss him.

Lighting strikes, and thunder comes a few minutes after. He takes your hand and pulls you up the stairs to your shared bedroom. You set your water down and turn on the soft fairy lights and your favorite music to help you settle down. Bo shuts the door and changes into something more comfortable.

You two lay in the bed, you set your head on in his chest. He kisses your forehead and rubs your shoulders.

“I’m so proud of you baby cakes. You’re doin’ so well on your paper. Can’t wait for you to turn it in, then you’ll get such an amazin’ grade on it and you’ll be done for the semester!”

You smile up at Bo. Your heart fluttering. “Thank you Bo. It means a lot.”

You close your eyes and focus on being in bed with Bo and the music and rain that plays in the background. Bo kisses your head again.

“It’s no problem. You’re amazin’ and deserve to know it.”

[noemilivv]

Let’s Talk :)

Woah! It’s been awhile, has it not? I doubt half of you even recognize this name, but hey, it’s the high school girl who wrote Hazbin/Helluva fics from January 2024-April 2024 but then left because of burnout haha

This has been on my mind for awhile, I’ve made the decision to come back to writing fics, I’ve missed you all a lot, and not writing for awhile broke me, but the break was sooo needed.

My return won’t be until the end of my last semester, so I’ll be coming back officially in about mid-June, because until then I’ll be setting up haha.

A lot of my rules and things will change, just so I don’t get burnt out again, but I’m so happy to be back <3

Until then,

Mio <3