#wrote some stuff for a class and liked how it turned out

[slippinmickeys]

Thank you for expanding Funfetti! I am so thirsty for M&S keep William fics, I can't even tell you. More please? I'll take anything. But can you continue with the Thanksgiving Pageant stuff? What happens next?? please and thank you

“Tell me you didn’t tell him to say that, Mulder.” 

Scully had pulled him into a stairwell the very second they could escape the auditorium without notice. 

“I didn’t tell him to say that,” Mulder answered honestly. 

“Tell me you didn’t tell him to say that and fucking mean it,” she hissed. 

Mulder reached out and grabbed her by the hand, looking her in the eye. 

“I didn’t tell him to say that. I swear. He…” 

“Did he hear us? Did he hear us talking?” 

The boy had been shut up in his room. The idea that he had overheard them was unlikely. 

The third grade class was singing something that sounded an awful lot like ‘Fah Who Doraze’ from The Grinch. In the echo chamber of the stairwell it sounded eerie and hollow.

“Mulder!” Scully hissed. 

Mulder turned his attention fully back to Scully. “I don’t see how,” he finally said. 

“He must have though,” she replied, stepping back, fidgety and distressed. “He must have.”

And then Mulder remembered something. 

“Scully,” he said, his voice low and serious. “The last bit. The smallpox bit. I never said that out loud.”

“What do you mean you never-” 

Mulder watched as the color drained from Scully’s face. 

“I thought it,” he said. “I never…I thought it.”

The implications washed over both of them. 

“Oh my God,” Scully said for the millionth time that night, swallowing thickly and lowering herself to sit on the staircase. 

Mulder, knees popping, sat down next to her. The song ended and there was an underwater sound of polite applause echoing against the painted brick walls of the stairwell.

“You’d hoped it was telekinesis,” he said. “Just telekinesis.”

The baby’s mobile spinning on its own. Stuffies dropping from the air when they walked in the nursery. Umpteen other things they wrote off because it couldn’t have been what they thought it was, because there was a plausible explanation, because it was just a figment of their imagination. 

…Maybe not ‘they.’

“I hate that word.”

“How do you feel about ‘telepathy?’”

Scully turned to glare at him. 

“I’m not trying to raise your ire. But we’ve had fights about this, Scully, and every time you find some kind of plausible deniability.”

“Isn’t that why Blevins hired me?” She was deflecting, now. 

Mulder waited a moment, then reached out and grasped her hand. She didn’t pull back. 

”We both know he’s different. I’ve known for a while. I think you have too. But I also think there’s maybe no more denying it. Don’t you?” 

At some point, even skeptic extraordinaire Dana Scully had to accept what she was finally seeing with her own eyes. 

She sighed heavily. “Do you remember when you told me that maybe he wasn’t what those supersoliders thought he was?”

Mulder nodded, wondering where he was going with this. She turned to him with a look of misery.

“What do I do when it’s me thinking the same thing?”

Mulder turned more fully toward her. “What do you mean?”

Scully paused, sniffed, wouldn’t look him in the eye. “I mean…what if our son isn’t what we thought he was?”

“You mean the fact that he’s different? Special?” he asked. 

Her shoulders wilted. 

“Yes.” Quiet acknowledgement. And then she went on. “It’s not the…supernatural things…not completely, anyway. It’s not those things that are so hard for me to accept.”

“Then what is it?”

“Acknowledging his…gifts…means mourning the loss of the child I thought I had.”

“And embracing the one you do,” Mulder said. He kept all judgement out of his voice. 

Scully finally looked at him, her eyes full of tears. 

“It doesn’t make you love him any less,” Mulder said, knowing what he said was the complete truth. 

Scully looked at the floor and a tear streaked down her nose and swayed for a moment at the end of it before dripping to the floor at their feet. 

“It makes me feel like I have to protect him more,” she sniffed. “It’s going to make his life so much harder. It’s going to make our life so much harder.”

Mulder let go of her hand and put his arm around his shoulders, pulling her in tight. They sat for a moment, the sound of the fourth graders' song pinging through the air in round, hollow drops of sound. He squeezed her into himself once. 

“Scully,” he finally said. “I can’t think of two more qualified people to handle this. Can you?”

The moment was a quantum shift in their lives. Nothing would ever be the same again. But life went on. And you had to go with it. 

She inhaled expansively, sat up straight even under the weight of his arm. “No,” she said after a moment. “That doesn’t mean I have to like it.” She gave him a watery chuckle.

“I suppose not,” he said, standing up and reaching out a hand to her. “Come on,” he went on, hauling her up. “We’ll sneak back in, watch the fifth graders chew some scenery, and be first in line for lemonade and cookies.”      

“We’re going to be fielding some questions,” she said with obvious distaste. 

Mulder swung the stairwell door wide, holding it open for her to walk through. 

“Let ‘em,” he said, following her through. “I’ve got a tight five on Thanksgiving as a tool of assimilation.”

[jansuta]

in my transgender arc

[i-havenothingelsetopost]

genuine question, do you like maths?? i have a vague feeling i saw your post of tags or something that said something about it but i cannot figure out if it was in fact you or if it was even positive ahahah

Yeah that was me! I don't go looking for math problems, but when I happen to do them, I tend to enjoy it. Wasn't always this way — elementary school math was about speed and memorization and I hated that — but I had a really good teacher in upper secondary school, and it became about creative problem solving. It feels the same as writing a poem in meter or managing to untangle a really bad knot in a ball of yarn.

[wcters]

𝗧𝗘𝗘𝗡𝗔𝗚𝗘𝗥 𝗜𝗡 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

word count: 2k+

summary: your relationship with lando through the teenage years

warnings: pda, established relationship, mostly fluff, some angst | i know lando moved to glastonbury later in his life but 🤫 i also wrote this in 2 hours instead of doing because i got excited and had an idea

     You and Lando had first met when you were teenagers. Him being a lanky teenage boy with puffy cheeks and curly hair, and you being a young girl with frizzy hair and a youthful look in your eyes. It wasn’t a surprise to anyone when you first started dating, it’s like you both were on the same wavelength.

You still remember the day you met him ━━ how could you not? You two went to the same school so you knew who each other was, and you had heard of him from people around the town talking about his karting career. Your parents were family friends with the Norris’s, and they never failed to talk about how proud they were of their children.

It was the start of school after the 2013 summer break. You had quite a small friend group in school so when you had classes with no one you were friends with, you tended to be quiet and focus on your school work. That resulted in you being forced to sit next to the rowdy kids. Why? You didn’t know. It’s not like it changed them, and it just bothered you. It was one of those times, and it was Lando who was put next to you. Him and his friend group tended to be the disruptive bunch. They weren’t bad people or bad at school, just got a little too loud at times and forgot to pay attention.

You were sat in the middle row of your math class. The seat next to you was empty at the start of class, but at the end it wasn’t. Lando and his friends got a little too loud and he was “punished” by being put next to you so he couldn’t talk with his friends. You looked at him when he made his way over, but that was it. He was cute ━━ you could admit it. And it didn’t hurt that someone cute was being put next to you, but you shook your feelings off and forced yourself to focus. At them end of class when you were grabbing your things, a hand poked your shoulder. You turned around and came face-to-face with the Norris boy. He looked a little nervous, fidgety and a small smile on his face. You tilted your head. “Hey ━━ I uh ━━ didn’t have enough time to finish some of the notes. Do you mind if I borrow some of yours?”

You were a little surprised, you didn’t think he cared that much about school. Most kids wouldn’t bother getting down a little bit you missed ━━ not even you ━━ but he did. You smiled and nodded. “Sure,” you told him as you grabbed the paper out of your binder and gave it to him, “just return it once you’re done?” He nodded. The next day in class, he walked over to you and gave the paper pack, and you figured he would go back to his friends because the seat want permanent, but he didn’t. He put his bag on the ground and sat in the seat next to you. He did that, every day, for the rest of the year.

You two got to know each other well. You learned more about his competitive karting career and his family, while you told him about your family and friends. Nothing ever happened between you two, you were just friends. You had a crush on him, but you convinced yourself it was your mind tricking you because it was your first friend that was a boy. He thought the same, but he didn’t not believe his, he just didn’t act on it.

It was summer break, a year after you met him, when you realized you did like him. You were chatting with your grandma at her house as you were helping her sting stuff around the house. She had asked about your school semesters and how it was. You rambled on and on, not realizing that you mostly takes about Lando. It wasn’t until you were putting one of the last boxes down for her that it finally hit. “You must really like that boy, no?” You looked at her weird. “All you did was talk about him. You must like him.” It was when she said that that you had a moment of realization. After you finished helping her you went home to your mom and talked to her, confused on how to deal with this newfound information. She just laughed and gave you a hug, telling you that almost every teenage girl goes through this with someone in their life. That made you feel a bit better.

Your friendship turned into something more a couple weeks after that. The Norris family had invited your family to come watch one of Lando’s races at Buckmore Park. Your parents agreed as they wanted to catch up . . . You agreed because you wanted to see Lando. He did well, coming 5th place. You could tell he wasn’t happy about, but you were. You and your family met up with him at the end of the race. He wasn’t looking too happy, but when he saw you his face lit up. When you congratulated him he blushed. Your families talked for a bit ━━ mostly about how summer break was going ━━ and you were about to leave when Lando called out your name.

Your family continued to leave, saying they would meet up with you at the car with your mom winking at you. You blushed. At first there was some awkward silence, and then he asked “would you like to go on a date?” You were a bit shocked, not expecting it, and you were nervous. What did people do on dates anyway? You know adults went out to eat and drink but you were fifteen! You completely forgot that you had to answer his question, and he started sputtering out words saying that you didn’t have to, and he was sorry before you interrupted him with a “yes.” It was his turn to look surprise.

You went on a date the next week, both of you unknowingly doing the same thing and panicking to your parents beforehand. It went fine, a bit awkward ━━ obviously ━━ but you thought it was cute. You went out for icecream and walked around Bristol. Halfway through the date he slipped his hand into yours, and you accepted it, but didn’t dare to look him in the eye.

After that, you two were inseparable. You two were always together, and practically lived at each others houses. Sometimes ━━ for weeks on end ━━ your parents never saw you a lot because you were always at Lando’s house. His parents always updated yours on how you were, and they trusted you. During an interview for Drive to Survive, your parents swore during those times they only saw you in the morning and night, the rest of the time you were with Lando. This would switch between you staying at his and him staying at yours.

Though Lando wouldn’t admit it when he was a teenager, he would do anything for you. If you asked him to jump off a bridge, he wouldn’t even ask why, he’s just do it. There are so many pictures on your phone and Polaroids of him in “embarrassing” situations ━━ like one where he had a face mask on and his nails painted. You keep that one in the back of your phone case. He would let you braid his hair, practice makeup on him, help him with his skincare, and so many other things. This would always be in the secrecy of your room and when your families weren’t there because he dreaded the day his family saw him like that.

He had no idea that you had shown his sisters and parents almost every single one. They promised to keep it quiet, and they did. You also know they won’t tell him that they have some of those pictures on their phones. It’s a secret between you and them, a need to know thing.

Whenever you had sleepovers at his house, you would stay with his sisters because you weren’t allowed to be with him ━━ for good reason ━━ and because you loved his sisters. As you got older, you bonded more with them, helping them out with boy problems and girl problems, because everyone had those girls in high school who made your life a living hell. You broke down crying when you found out they were moving to Glastonbury. How would you survive without not being able to hug your boyfriend? How would you cope without the gossip sessions with his sisters? The talks about your life over helping Cisca with dinner and talking politics with Adam? Laughing at embarrassing moments of Lando with his brother?

Before that, you had put off getting your license. You walked or took buses to most places, and it saved you money. When you found out they were moving though, you made it your life’s mission it get your license and a car. You were on moving day, helping the family with setting things up and cleaning up the place. You still remember the dinner you had that night. It wasn’t fancy, just Chinese takeout on a table in the half put together living room, but it was one of the moments where you truly felt like family. It wasn’t that you hadn’t before, but it was the private ness of the situation that really hit your heart. You begged to stay over, not caring that it was a school night, but you couldn’t. You hugged everyone goodbye with teary eyes, kissing Lando, and promising to be back soon.

And you were. When you had that car, you spent an unbelievable amount of money on gas. You drove to his house almost every weekend. Sometimes he would come over to your house, but it was mostly you going over there out of convenience. If Lando wanted to go to yours, he’d probably have to pile all of his siblings in the car, while you didn’t have to do that. Besides driving to Glastonbury, your car was also used as a pick me up. Whenever something happened with his sisters, you’d be there in a heartbeat, telling them to get in ━━ telling Lando he can’t come with him grumbling something under his breath ━━ and you’d go and grab food. Whatever they needed, you were there ready to do it? Boy problems? Junk food and a sad playlist. School problems? Listening to them vent and giving them advice. Period problems? That depended on that they wanted. You even remember one time on March break Flo had an experience with a boy and you took her to a rage room . . . It was so fun, and you definitely did it again with Cisca.

While you were there for all the important events in Lando’s life, he was the same. He was there when your grandma died, and you swore he was one of the few things that kept you together. He was there when you graduated high school and got accepted into your dream school.

Your relationship stayed the same throughout his whole career, you to where you both were now, living in Monaco. You still acted like teenagers, jokingly fighting over little things and teasing each other. Your love baver wavered, it stayed the same for each other, maybe even became stronger. There were periods in your relationship like when he first started in Formula One and you moved to college that it was tricky, but you go through it. You always would.

As you sat on the sofa in your home and twirled the ring on your finger, you remembered the whole of your relationship and the future of it. You were broken out of your trance by a kiss on your head. You hummed, not turning to look at him. “She’s gone to bed. She’s been changed and given her bottle. You smiled and looked up at him, “thank you.” He kissed you on your lips, “of course. You ready to go to bed, Mrs. Norris?” You chuckled and got up, walking around to the couch to meet him in his arms.

“Always, Mr. Norris, always.”

[angel-sweets666]

how t some of the bakusquad boys initiate 👀

Bakugo katsuki x reader, eijiro kirishima x reader, Denki kaminari x reader

warnings: mentions of sex, more sexual stuff. No real sex tho Dw reader is mentioned to have a pussy but that’s the one gender mention

sorry I didn’t write sero I don’t have a good idea on his character

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

ALL AGED UP TO 18 AND IN 3RD YEAR

Katsuki bakugo

Bakugo either starts off subtly or straight up, no In between. He’s especially rough when he’s had a bad day

you roll over onto your side, typing to Mina about drama from class 3B (1B)When bakugo bursts open the door and slams it closed, practically making the door frame shake. “Had a bad day?” You asked him, still distracted on your phone and tapping away. Bakugo lets out a groan “I FUCKING-“ “inside voice.” You interrupted “I had a fucking ass day.” He still yelled as he threw his hero shirt and mask onto the floor, stomping over to you in bed. You peered over your shoulder and looked him up and down, noticing how dirty his boots are “bakugo take your boots off! Your filthy!!” You sat up and looked him up and down again. the blonde rolls his eyes and takes off his black and orange dirt stained boots, chucking them to the door. “There, better?” He grumbled, climbing into bed with you. “Yeah.. that’s better” you said as you rolled onto your back, bakugo sat up and pulled your legs apart and laying down on your chest. You could feel his length begin to grow harder and harder underneath you, he sat up and slowly began to rock his hips against yours. “shit- can we fuck?”

eijiro kirishima

sweet boy asks, and he’s so polite about it too! He wants to be a chivalrous hero and a great boyfriend in general to you. So of course he asks so politely:(((

you were washing some dishes in the common room, you and tsu had some noodles for lunch and you were just cleaning up the bowls from the food. Humming and dancing to yourself, kirishima watched from afar. You looked so pretty when you were happy like that, how could he not wanna fuck you? As you put away the last fork you suddenly felt a pair of very strong and solid arms wrap around you “hi baby!” You giggle and kiss his cheek, kirishima gives you a toothy grin and kisses your neck gently “hey sweetheart.. you look so pretty today” he tells you as he rubs your size “you wouldn’t possibly be in the mood would you?” He asks with his cheeks turning red “are you asking for sex?” You grinned to him and he nodded “yeah alright baby cmon”

Denki kaminari

My bro begs, like HE BEGS And not in a cute little submissive way I’m talking like really annoying “PLEASEEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE” while on his knees shuffling around to follow you

You were busy trying to clean out your dorm, preparing for graduation in the next few weeks. The task was already challenging, but it became nearly impossible with an electric blonde following you around on his knees, begging for you to let him fuck you

“PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE, ILL BE QUICK!”

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore him as you sorted through a pile of textbooks. "Denki, I really need to get this done. Graduation is right around the corner, and I can't leave my dorm looking like a disaster zone." He shuffled closer, still on his knees, and clasped his hands together dramatically. "But I need you more than your dorm does!” You turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow “oh really?” You leaned your weight to one hip, Denki rolled his eyes then stood up, mild carpet burn on his knees from following you around “BRO YES? YOUVE GOT LIKE, A 10/10 PU-” “ DONT DAY THAT SO LOUD!” You covered his mouth then sighed “you know what… I could use the break” denkis face lit up “so… I can fuck you?” He asked with his face practically glowing as you nodded

I said I’d tag u next time I wrote for Denki kaminari so here! I hope it was as accurate as last time @b0o0o

[galactic-magick]

The Handsome Assistant: Viktor x Reader

Summary: You keep running into the handsome Dean's assistant, whom you find you have a lot in common with. You develop quite the crush, and things get a little messy when your friends find out about him.

Words: 3.2k

Warnings: some implied suggestive stuff, alcohol use

Author's Notes: Set before Season 1 Act 1. Just a warning, this is probably the most heavily self-indulgent of my Viktor fics so far. I’ve had ideas bouncing around my head for a long time about who I’d be if I lived in the Arcane universe, and I eventually just ended up taking inspiration from what I do in real life. So basically Reader works in human services and is similar to a social worker. I tried my best to write it in a way that makes sense even if you’re not familiar with that field.

Also, the roommate/friend characters are based on my besties irl, one of which is also my beloved tumblr mutual @ohboi , who has been dealing with my nonstop Viktor obsession for a long ass time now so shout-out to them lol. I wrote you living your dream in this fic as a way to apologize <3

-

It’s exhausting dealing with the powers of topside. There’s no sense of urgency here, no drive for real progress. You’ve attended meeting after meeting, maintaining composure every time they tell you your mission isn’t a priority, or that it will take decades to implement.

All you want is to help the struggling children in the Undercity. It’s what you’ve dedicated your life to, studying human services and psychology at the Academy and building your own grassroots group with a few others from your graduating class. You primarily advocate for better education, as the schools down there barely get any funding. The council doesn’t want to hear it, though, as it’s much easier to forget about the citizens below their feet.

It frustrates you beyond belief, especially since the first chunk of your life was spent in the Undercity. You lived the stark contrast between the two cities yourself, being granted countless more opportunities once your family moved to Piltover. It was sickening, and you felt so guilty with your new privileges when your friends back home still had none. But without those privileges, you wouldn’t have been able to attend the Academy and give back.

You resist the strong urge to scream after another failed proposal with the council. You prepared all of your points for weeks, fact-checking everything and making sure your ideas were plausible. The budget and statistics you wrote out projected exponential progress for both cities, as focusing on the new generation of Zaunites would encourage the next great minds and likely lead to collaboration on mutual issues. But of course, the council is not ready to contemplate such a future.

There was one factor that wasn’t usually there, though, a handsome young man sitting beside Professor Heimerdinger. He was furiously taking notes the entire meeting, looking back down at his journal anytime you made eye contact with him. Out of all the councilors, Heimerdinger seemed the most open to your ideas, but without a majority agreeing to cast a vote to actually change policy, nothing would happen.

You walk back down the long hallway, noticing someone in your peripheral vision.

“I’m sorry the council remains so stuck in their ways,” he says. “Trust me, I understand how hard it is to hold back your anger towards them.”

You turn your head, seeing the young man from earlier, “Who are you?”

“Viktor. I’m assistant to the Dean of the Academy,” he replies, leaning on a cane. “I quite liked your ideas. I think they could work.”

“I know they would work.”

You sigh, quickly realizing you’re projecting your feelings onto this stranger.

“Sorry,” you correct yourself. “I just don’t understand how they can just not care about the suffering down there. I’m from the Undercity, I’ve seen what’s happening there firsthand, and it’s only getting worse.”

Viktor’s eyes widen a bit, “I’m from the Undercity, too.”

“You’re from the Undercity and you’re the personal assistant to Heimerdinger?” you question, a bit shocked at the prospect.

“It’s really not that big of a deal, but yes.”

“What do you mean, not a big deal? I’ve never even met anyone else from the Undercity who got into the Academy.”

“I suppose we are a rare breed,” he says. “I imagine I never saw you there due to our differences in studies.”

“Most likely,” you shrug. “None of my classes were in the science halls, assuming that’s where you were.”

He smirks, “What makes you assume I studied science?”

“You just have that look about you.”

He laughs, “Well, you’re right. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised someone well-versed in analyzing humanity read me so quickly.”

“Don’t worry, you’re still mostly a mystery to me. I can’t read minds or anything,” you flash him a genuine smile.

There’s a beat of silence before he speaks again.

“I need to get back to my lab, but I do hope we cross paths again. I’ll certainly discuss your proposals more with Heimerdinger as well.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

He leaves in the opposite direction, his cane tapping the floor.

What an interesting twist of fate, meeting someone like you.

-

The second time you run into Viktor is at an Academy party a couple months later, something you both likely would’ve skipped if you could. It’s somewhat a recruiting event for new students, and several alumni were asked to represent their fields of study. It’s not that you mind talking with prospective students, but you know you’ll have to hold back a lot of your true opinions when doing so. If you go off about how the curriculum doesn’t cover enough about the issues in the Undercity, you’ll surely get a reprimand from your former professors. You could lose several connections and investors in your organization as well, something you’re not willing to risk. Instead, you keep a smile on your face, engaging in conversation politely and answering questions.

You notice Viktor sitting at one of the far tables, his eyes darting around the room. He has several contraptions set up, and occasionally people come up to ask him about them. He lights up when he speaks, his face making the cutest expressions.

You notice yourself staring, quickly turning your head towards something else.

That sconce on the wall looks nice, doesn’t it?

As the event slows down and the crowd shuffles out, you pack up your things and head to the door, glancing back at Viktor’s table for a moment. He’s looking right back at you, and your heels swivel promptly to go see him.

“Hey,” you say, shooting him a smile. “Nice to see you again.”

Shit, was he this handsome the first time you met him?

“You as well,” he nods, gathering up his own things scattered in front of him. “Did you find anyone to join your program?”

“A few, yeah. You?”

“Several. More than I expected.”

He huffs, soon realizing all of his tech and science displays were not going to fit in the one cart that was left.

“I can help you carry your stuff, the science wing isn’t that far from here, right?” you offer, shifting your things under one arm and grabbing some of his things with the other.

“You don’t have to do that,” he protests, but you’re already propping open the door and gesturing him to come along with a head tilt.

“I really don’t mind. Come on.”

You help him put things away in the different classrooms and offices, careful not to break anything. You’ve never been in this side of the school before, and it’s set up quite differently than the usual classrooms you were in. There’s much more going on than a usual lecture hall, tools and chemicals you don’t dare touch lining the perimeter. Viktor thanks you for your assistance as you finish getting everything in place, and you once again prepare to go your separate ways.

“Wait—” he says before you leave, pulling out his journal and flipping through it. “I wrote down a lot more notes that might be helpful for your project, I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”

He hands over the open page for you to read, and your jaw drops. It’s so detailed, every proposal you had broken down to its smallest pieces. He even laid out the budget and resource use and everything it would take to not only build and fund better schools in the Undercity, but also work on housing and overall infrastructure. He even has some theories scribbled on how to keep the air cleaner and fix problems with the fissures.

You can’t believe he’s been thinking about you and everything you said for all this time since you last met.

“Viktor, this is amazing.”

“I know it still may not convince the entire council, but I found your ideas quite inspiring. I hope my calculations can be informative.”

“They certainly are,” your fingers hover over the written words and numbers. “Thank you, Viktor.”

“Of course,” he grins. “I look forward to seeing what you accomplish.”

-

You find yourself running into him a lot more often after that, “accidentally” walking by each other’s offices at least once a week and talking long beyond what you probably should while working. Your soul feels so in tune with his, a phenomenon that surely shouldn’t be happening with someone you haven’t known very long.

Your conversations quickly progress to topics non-work related, his curiosity blooming with every little thing you share with him. Most days after work you simply can’t stop talking to each other, causing you to get home later and later until your roommates start to get nosy.

“I really have to go, Viktor,” you laugh, glancing at the clock that reads three whole hours past the end of your shift. You’ve been chatting about embarrassing Academy stories, reminiscing on both the stark similarities and differences between your experiences.

His eyebrows raise. “Shit, is it really that late?”

“Yeah,” you grab your bag with a sigh. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Of course.”

-

“You already work too much overtime as it is! What’s so important that you have to stay late every single day?” one of your roommates, Eli, probes, clearly unsatisfied with the half-truth answers you’ve given so far. You don’t really want to tell the full truth just yet, that you’ve been talking with the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen, and you don’t experience the passage of time whatsoever when you’re around him. That would sound ridiculous, especially since absolutely nothing will ever come of it. He’s a wonderful colleague, but you’d be foolish to ever expect anything more.

“There’s just a lot to do,” you finally say.

“You need a break, that’s what you need to do,” they emphasize. “How about we go down to The Last Drop tomorrow night? It’s been a while since we’ve seen our friends down there.”

You nod, “Alright, I’ll try not to stay late tomorrow.”

“You better not.”

They glare at you jokingly, and you let out a laugh and exhale of relief.

-

You finish up your notes for the day, whipping your head back and forth to check if the coast is clear. You know yourself and your own weakness—you certainly won’t get out of here on time if you run into Viktor for even a second.

But of course, like clockwork, his familiar tap on your leg with his cane greets you moments later, your heart fluttering to a discomposing degree. Him coming to see you is a routine now, and despite your promise to your friends you are aching to talk to him. You haven’t had a proper night out in months, why is it so hard to just leave?

If any of your racing thoughts are visible on your features, Viktor certainly picked up on them.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, just...long day,” you reply. “But my roommates are taking me out tonight, maybe that will wake me back up.”

“I won’t keep you long, then—”

He’s cut off by Eli calling your name, jaw dropped as they come towards you down the hallway.

“I knew there was something you weren’t telling me!” they chuckle in disbelief. “Working late my ass.”

“I was literally on my way home!”

“I just wanted to come check!”

Your face grows hot. It isn’t abnormal for your roommates to visit you at your job every so often, bringing you important documents you forgot at home or bringing you a treat on your birthday, but under the current circumstances you’re a bit mortified.

They reach out their hand, “I’m Eli, Y/N’s roommate. Who do you think you are?”

“Viktor.” he shakes it, surprisingly not appearing phased by their directness.

“Interesting,” they look him up and down, then turn to you. “So, he’s coming with us, right?”

“Oh, um...I didn’t ask—“

Viktor can’t help but smile at your flustered face.

“If I’m invited, I wouldn’t mind joining.”

-

“I can’t believe you.”

Mumbling under your breath, you enter The Last Drop. Viktor told you he’d meet you there in about an hour, which thankfully gives you some time for some drinks to numb your nerves.

“Look, I honestly don’t know why you didn’t just tell us about him. He seems like a good one.”

“It’s not like that,” you correct them. “He’s not into me like that. We just work on some projects together, that’s all.”

You order a drink from Vander at the bar, gulping it down a little too quickly.

“That kinda night, eh?” he laughs, pouring you another one before you have to ask.

“Yeah.”

You have a few more drinks and shots with your roommates and old Undercity friends, your mind and body entering such a daze that you almost forget Viktor is meeting you there later. You play games together and get teased about some of your adopted topside ways, and you even get back at Eli by pushing them to talk to Sevika, who they ogle at quite literally every time you come to this bar with them. It’s the kind of night where you can be free and careless, temporarily leaving your problems behind in favor of bad decisions.

You have to do a double take when you finally see Viktor arrive. He’s changed out of his Academy uniform, now dressed much more casually and much more like a Zaunite.

“It seems I’m a little late to the fun,” he observes.

“We’re just starting!” you beam, the drunk giggles taking over you.

“How many have you had?”

“I don’t know, like 7 or 8 maybe,” you shrug.

He lifts his cane against you and steers you away from the bar, shaking his head, “I think you’re done for tonight.”

“Fine,” you roll your eyes. “But not because you told me to, because I don’t want to throw up.”

He stays close to you while you stumble back to your friends’ table, chuckling at the slurred introductions you give him. They all accept him into their games and conversations instantly, and you quickly find out Viktor can handle his liquor a lot better than you. He puts all of them to shame, and they love finally having decent competition.

Your friends all whisper their approval to you throughout the night, even though you’ve repeatedly reminded them that nothing is going on. Although, you’re not really helping your case by zoning out every few minutes on his face.

“You have pretty eyes,” you say, staring until you realize what you just said out loud.

“That’s very kind,” he responds hesitantly. “But I’m sure your vision is a bit...tainted.”

“Alcohol doesn’t change color perception, dumbass.” you retort. “Besides, I’m sobering up a little.”

“Well then,” he smiles. “Thank you.”

You sigh, taking a sip of some water and glancing around the room. The bar is close to closing, and most of your friends have left.

“Have you seen Eli recently? I haven’t seen them in a while.”

He snickers, “You didn’t see them go in the back with Sevika?”

“They what?” you jump out of your seat. “Oh they’d better tell me everything.”

“I’m sure they will,” he laughs. “Do you need someone to walk you home, then?”

“Probably. Who knows how long they’ll be.”

-

The buzz has worn off quite a bit now, so thankfully you’re not tripping all over nothing and further embarrassing yourself. Viktor’s beautiful glow in the moonlight is more than enough to accomplish that, your gazes prolonging far longer than they should.

“Thank you for coming tonight, it was fun,” you say, fumbling for your apartment key in your pocket. “I’m sorry you had to see me like that, though.”

“Don’t apologize. It was very amusing.”

“Good.” you exhale. “Just ignore anything weird I said, okay?”

“I’m not sure that’s possible,” he smirks. “Now get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

-

Sleep is certainly what you get, and the next morning before work is full of a head-pounding hangover and chaotic conversation. Your roommates Eli and Chanthou can’t stop laughing about everything that happened, and naturally you’re very nosy about the Sevika situation. Eli tells you every little detail of course, giddy and in disbelief that they managed to make-out with her all night.

“So? Are you guys going to get together again?” you ask on the edge of your seat.

“I hope so.”

“Looks like you both got what you wanted last night,” Chanthou adds.

“Guys, he just walked me home. That’s all.” You’re getting a little annoyed with the constant reminders that your little crush is not, in fact, reciprocated.

“You...don’t remember?” she looks at Eli, then cocks her head at you. “About halfway through the night you were all over him. We just assumed you guys finally confessed.”

You didn’t think you drank enough to blackout, but you definitely don’t remember whatever they’re talking about. Besides, if you really were doing that, why didn’t Viktor say something once you were sobered up?

And what, now you have to see him in the office today, having no idea what you said to him?

“Oh, fuck, guys. What exactly did I do?”

“I don’t know what happened after I went back with Sevika, but before I left you were sitting on his lap on the couch and playing with his hair—”

“WHAT?”

“Wow, you really don’t remember, do you?”

You groan, wishing you didn’t have to go in today. You have a couple important meetings though, so you’ll have to power through. You take some painkillers and grab your things, praying for the first time that you can get through the day without seeing Viktor.

-

Your headache refuses to lessen its throbbing for your entire shift, making the work you usually enjoy completely miserable. You snap at one too many co-workers and find yourself staring at the clock desperately. Why did you agree to drinking on a weeknight again?

Just as you dreaded, you run into Viktor outside, too obviously waiting for you to pretend to ignore him.

“Hey…” you avoid looking into his eyes. “How come you didn’t say anything about what really happened last night?”

“I...wasn’t sure you’d remember,” he confesses. “I suspected you blacked out when you said you didn’t remember seeing Eli leave. And I wasn’t sure you meant what you said anyway.”

“Please, Viktor. Just tell me what I said. All my roommates told me was I couldn’t stop touching you, which I am so sorry about—“

“N-No, don’t be. Everything was consensual, I assure you.” his face flushes. “You just told me you have feelings for me, that’s all. I was going to tell you last night too if you hadn’t said it first.”

Your eyes widen at his words, your heart threatening to leave your chest.

“But it seems you don’t remember, so I can still count this as making the first move, hmm?”

Shivers race down your spine as Viktor leans in, his fingertips grazing your cheek. His lips meet yours softly, your eyes fluttering shut as he presses deeper. His hand remains holding your face when he pulls away, scanning your expression for your reaction.

“I guess the feeling is mutual,” you chuckle, still a bit breathless.

“Quite so, darling.”

-

More Author's Notes: I have a bad habit of getting drunk around guys I like irl bc I literally can’t handle being around hot people sober so that's the inspiration for that situation lol. Also, a part 2 to this is already in the works, it'll be set during Act 1 and probably parts between 1 and 2.

[andhumanslovedstories]

I am not closely following the election results tonight, but I am occasionally seeing flashes of them out of the corner of my eye. The most obvious sign that things aren’t going well right now is the complete lack of celebrating on my dash. I know what tumblr looks like when it’s happy. Maybe I’ll go to bed tonight and see something different in the morning. I hope to god that is the case. But I’m thinking about the way I’m thinking right now, and I want to get some stuff down before the future kicks in.

In 2016 I was in a period of my life I affectionately refer to as as my fuckup era. I wasn’t even fucking up really. More just chilling out and falling short of the vague expectations I’d had about what I was supposed to be doing after I graduated college. While my friends from college rented apartments in the city and got jobs that didn’t supply you with a uniform shirt, I lived at home and worked as a barista at a fancy movie theater. That’s a real job you can do for almost five years. I didn’t have a clue what the back half of my twenties should look like. The only long term plan I had in my life was moving out west with my best friend, and my plan for finding a job once I was out there was basically to cross my fingers and hope.

Those days weren’t bad on the whole, but it felt like I was not actually living a life so much as I was goofing off in the waiting room. Sometimes that felt embarrassing, sometimes it felt fun, and sometimes it felt like I was completely pointless to the world.

On 2016’s Election Day, I went to bed early. After watching the votes come in, I needed the night to be over. I woke in a world that felt different than it had been the night before—not just in the actuality of who would be president but down to its foundations. I realized for the first time how much hope I’d had in human nature because now I didn’t feel it anymore. It’s almost silly when I think about it—so many horrible things had already happened that year, people had done horrible things as long as there have been people, and I didn’t think I was naive to that—but something clicked into place that morning.

It felt the same way my world had changed a year earlier, in 2015 during my last semester of college. My college victory lap felt like a prolonged downward spiral. Very early in the morning on a Monday, after pulling an all-nighter and overwhelmed by self-loathing that I could not just motivate myself to work on a paper that had been my only thought all weekend, I self-harmed for the first time in a way that was impossible to pretend it was anything else. Earlier that weekend, I’d tried staving off the urges drawing or writing on my arm, something that did (and does) usually work. I’d written this quote in silver sharpie on my forearm: “Good is not a thing you are. It's a thing you do.”

I picked that quote from the Ms. Marvel comics and liked the words so much, I thought that I wouldn’t be willing to purposefully mess it up by hurting myself there. Didn’t work. They just made me feel more ashamed of myself as I did it.

That was the worst I had ever felt. Then, on the Friday of that week, a friend of mine was senselessly, brutally murdered.

It doesn’t feel now like there was ever a time before her death. My memoir class is now where I wrote about her. My favorite professor is now the one who held me as I cried. My final thesis, the culmination of my history degree, never got finished and certainly never got polished. I turned it what I had and got an A minus. Sometimes I think of rereading that paper to see if that’s the grade it actually deserved. We hadn’t been the closest friends, but my name was still on the email admin sent to professors, listing students who might be emotionally affected by this tragic event. Grace’s murder hangs over every memory I have with her and everything she ever touched. It feels like its own type of obliteration to leave her reduced to her death.

Grace wanted to be a lawyer because she believed in justice and also liked arguing. She could be rude when she wasn’t interested in what you were saying. When you caught her attention, you felt like the most fascinating person in the room. She was so proud of being Jewish. I watched her become proud of being gay. She was so universally friendly that it took me a year to realize that she actually liked specifically me. She had a somewhat silly laugh and an astonishingly luminous smile.

I thought less of the world and the people in it because of how she died. Trump’s election in 2016 felt like that.

After he won, I left stasis. From November through December, I thought harder about my future than I ever had before. Who did I want to be? What did I most value? What did I think was worth protecting? What work wouldn’t kill me to do? At one point, in presumably a fit of madness, I thought, “what if I got into politics.” Epiphany eventually hit me. By the time of Trump’s inauguration, I was already enrolled at community college, getting my pre-reqs for nursing school.

Now it’s election night again, eight years later. I live on the west coast with my best friend, in a house that we bought together. I work as a nurse in a hospital in a city where there are homeless encampments off every highway and someone begging for change on every corner. Meanwhile, there’s Palestine. Meanwhile there’s Sudan. Meanwhile refugees drown in the sea and border patrol shoots jugs of water. Even hurricanes have human cruelty now.

I don’t think people are inherently good or the universe inherently kind. But I am very good at tricking myself into thinking it for a little while, and when I do, I can remember the a specific feeling from Friday of my senior year, from that morning in November— how fucking hard the disappointment hit me because I had expected people to be better than this. It makes me want to be better than that.

I believe, and hope that I always will, that we can make a better world. I don’t know what it looks like, but I think I will see it in my lifetime. Those of us who can believe such things owe a bit of that naïveté to the world—not to excuse atrocities or think them impossible but to believe that we can stop them at all. You have to have a couple people sprinkled around who are genuinely shocked when people do bad things. It’s not that the pessimists are wrong, but you need the occasional counterbalance. I want to be a reasonable cynic’s pleasant surprise.

Every shift, I interact with people at their lowest and worst. I see the direct pipeline from pain to anger to violence, and how fragile that pipeline can be. So many situations can be changed by things as small as a warm blanket or a kind word. Violence can be quite easy to avert. Crises can be quite simply to resolve. Even when I know that whatever I do that shift will not change the circumstances of a person’s life, I think that what I do that shift still matters.

I’m lying in bed, writing this post instead of looking at the news. I wonder how tonight will change me. Been thinking about what I’ll do if Trump wins. Been thinking about how whatever I think I need to do under Trump will still need to be done if Harris clutches out a victory. I guess this is a pessimist’s optimism: to a degree the election doesn’t matter. Good is not a thing you are. It is a thing you do. Our better world will always take a lot of work.

But please god please, why can’t it be just a little easier to do it?

[ramblingautisticman]

So, I haven't stopped thinking about the dyslexic Wade headcannon- like at all- so here is the second part/expansive of this post!

I really like the idea of him being really insecure about it but slowly accepting it more and being more open about it.

I also wrote from my experience, and I'm not officially diagnosed don't come at me, but I struggle alot with reading and writing so yeah!

Anyway, enjoy. Please. I hope everyone likes this as much as I do!

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

It isn't that Wade can't read- or that he doesn't want to- it's more that it's a massive fucking struggle. Most of the time anyway.

He's always had trouble reading (and spelling, but he can avoid that with emojis now! How technology grows!) ever since he was a kid.

And maybe it's because he didn't grow up in a great environment, or maybe it's because he was never really encouraged, but Wade never ever mentions it. Not to anyone.

He never told anyone when he was in school that sometimes words didn't really make sense to him, and that he was behind in work because of it, not because he would sit and talk (though he did that too). He never told anyone that he preferred art over english because it was easier to understand a picture to him than it was words. He never told anyone that he struggled to spell simple words like "bakery" and "shopping" but could spell "because" and "beautiful" because of a stupid rhyme he had heard once.

It was just something he had grown up with- something he had assumed other kids dealt with- u til he got to high school. Suddenly, he was surrounded by people writing 3000 word essays like they were nothing and people reading 200 page books during lunch, all while Wade still hadn't finished a single book he owned. While Wade still struggled to understand words that weren't in a specific font or colour- something he had realised shortly after turning 10- and everyone around him could just do it. They didn't take 10 minutes to finish a page of a book. They didn't get headaches from the concentration he had to use while staring at a page trying to figure out if the word "wandering" was spelt correctly. They didn't struggle to read the teachers writing because of the cursive writing. They could all just do it and Wade had to just sit and try.

Naturally, people noticed that he would read slowly and awkwardly when they read aloud in class, or that his work always came back covered in red pen from where he had misspelled simple words. He quickly became a target for bullying. Honestly, he probably wouldn't feel as self conscious as he does if that hadn't happened. If teachers had just stepped in and helped- noticed that something was wrong- he would've gotten some help and grown up with accommodations that would've helped him succeed. But he didn't get any of that. He got bullied for reading slowly and being dumb. He got kicked and punched because he had been spotted reading a book meant for younger kids (big mistake).

Wade tried. He did. He read books as often as he could to try and make his brain click- and it never worked. He would try and spell random words- and sometimes he got them and sometimes he didnt- and eventually he gave up. Eventually he succumbed to the voice in his head telling him he was stupid and that he was just going to have to go through life suffering.

And as he got older, he figured out stuff that helped and stuff that didn't. He managed to find a few fonts that helped, a few overlays that made it easier, and a few things to remind him how to spell certain words he usually struggled with.

He also got better at hiding it. Wade would tell people he preferred calls over text. He would open birthday cards and smile at the writing even if he couldn't quiet make out what it said. He would avoid anything that involved him reading in public.

And again, not because he couldn't read, but because it might take him alittle longer than it should, and the idea people would notice made his stomach fill with anxiety, sending him right back to being that scrawny kid I high-school who got beaten up every lunch time.

All of that only got worse after his accident. Well, the cancer and the torture and the murders, but ya know.

Now people were staring at him anyway. People would look and gasp and gawk as he walked down the street or went to the store to get groceries. Everywhere he went people stared. Everywhere.

So instead of being slightly worried people would notice him focusing too hard on reading, he was fully aware people were staring at him constantly because of his skin, and he liked to avoid giving them anymore reasons to stare.

To his suprise though, moving in with Al had helped. She was the only person he had told, and she was the only person who seemed to understand, telling him about something called dyslexia and telling him that his brain just worked alittle different than his. Then proceeded to pass out after using the last of her cocaine- but the thought was still there.

And she didn't seem to mind that he read alittle slower sometimes, because she still asked him to read her mail to her, and sometimes write letters or cards. Wade would have to ask her how to spell the words, but she never seemed to get angry about it, and she always seemed to know how to spell them. Plus, if anyone noticed it wasn't spelt right, they could blame it on her being blind (how was the recipient to know this letter hadn't been writing by Al? She could probably write stuff if she wanted. She's blind, not stupid.).

When he started to gain friends and family- somehow gaining a little group of them- he didn't feel as bad about them noticing. He still didn't say anything- didn't make it obvious- but he wanted them to know he read there cards. Make sure they knew he read the group chat messages. Make sure they knew he did care (and for some reason, probably because the writer loves this headcannon, it seemed like alot of him showing his cared had to do with reading and spelling), writing them birthday cards and Christmas cards, and responding to every single message.

He found a quick way around the messages. That was easy. Emojis, memes and gifs quickly became his best friend. They were easy to dichiper most of the time, and Wade loved them, so it was a win win! He did write things too, and auto correct usually helped if he was struggling that day, but he was getting better thanks to Al and her bossing about of writing letters to her grandkids.

Writing cards took a little longer, but he spent alot of time on each one, making sure everything look neat and was spelt well. It always made him proud giving someone a card that he knew he spent so much time on, perfecting every last word.

When Logan moved in, it was a topic Wade was trying to avoid. He knew he should tell him- they were getting closer and closer each passing day- but he always felt so stupid trying to explain it. It made him feel stupid, even if he knew he wasn't. Most of the time.

Luckily, it doesn't actually come up for awhile, not until they have moved into their own place and Wade is handing Logan a birthday card with a huge grin on his face, practically bouncing on his feet.

And Logan opens it and reads it, and smirks a little because "I don't think the word awesome is spelt like that" and suddenly Wade's smile is wiped off his face.

He really had tried- maybe he didn't read the word properly off his phone or something- because Wade is taking the card and trying his best to quickly read it but can't, and he let's out a grunt of frustration because rambling at Logan apologetically. "I really tried to fucking spell everything right- I'm the idiot for fucking trying to read the word to spell it- I mean, who does that when you can't even read properly? I can re-do it- gimme like an hour and a half to go get a new card and get Al on the phone to just ask her how to spell it and then I can give you one that isn't fucked up-"

And Logan shuts him up with a small kiss to the forehead, telling him that he "likes this one just fine, has more charm" and Wade wants that to feel reassuring but it somehow doesn't, and it just makes him more annoyed.

So after a small melt down and a good cry in the shower for fucking up Logan's birthday, he explains it to Logan. Tells him about how he sometimes struggles with reading and spelling, but he really did try with the card. He really does try to read and write properly but some days it's hard and some days he can do it easier, and that he never really told anyone until he met Al. He messily rambles about everything- including the bullying- and Wade expects to be met with some laugh or ridicule. Though, this is Logan- and somehow this man loves every other part of him- so why wouldn't he love this part too?

And Logan just apologises to Wade that he made him feel bad about misspelling the word awesome- makes a joke about how it's a hard word to spell- and that Wade shouldn't have been bullied for something he couldn't help. Tells him that it's nothing to be ashamed off, and that he shouldn't let it hold him back. Tells him that if he ever needs help with spelling something he can ask Logan, that if he ever can't figure out a word that he can ask Logan, asks if there are any accommodations he uses to help him.

And Wade tells him the things that help, the things that don't, thanks him for the offer of help, and suddenly it doesn't seem so terrifying that Logan knows. Suddenly he feels better about it. Sure, Al had helped, but hearing this from Logan made him feel less afraid to hide it. Made him feel better about telling his friends so they knew.

And Logan stays true to his words. He helps him when he is struggling with a word- never jumps in a reads stuff or spells things without being asked first- and even uses some of the accommodations. He has his phone set to a font Wade can read easier, and his next birthday card is in big bold writing (Logan's writing is normally really scribbly and hard to read) and on a colour that helps him focus on the words more.

And he tells his friends and they understand, they do the same. They help if asked, they don't rush him in reading their cards or messages- Yukio starts to use more emojis and Collosus tries his best to give Wade mission debriefs in person or voice messages- and it helps him immensely. He gets more confident about his reading and writing, and he starts to work on ut even more. And yeah, he can't get rid of his dyslexia, but he can try and find new ways that help him. He can find books in safe fonts and listen to the audio book as he reads to help (Though, he does prefer listening to Logan read to him, because his voice is so smooth and gruff somehow, and he could listen to it for hours).

Wade hated that stupid part of himself for so long, but now- even if he is 47- he doesn't really mind it anymore. He makes jokes about his spelling errors or words he missreads, and he works on finding new things to help with Logan, and everything is alittle bit easier knowing he isn't going to be ridiculed and judged.

(People who said they wanted this, I hope you enjoy! @wadewnstonwilson @logictoinsanity @zerotoqueero @superbattrash @spoopderman @klszkas @ohitsthemindstuffagain @mangoob @dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes (tagging yall who said you wanted to read it!))

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Hehehehe okay so what if you like wrote a fic about remus lupin x reader. The reader is a teacher (preferably like astronomy) and they're sneaking around together. students are making bets and stuff to see if they'll end up together, some girls just ship them really hard.

They're trying so hard to keep it a secret but they are so bad at it.

Me @ every guy who isn't a fictional wizard from the 70s ^^

An: This fluff attempt goes out to you, rip

Rumors

Remus Lupin x Fem!Reader

cw: A lot of kisses and cursing, stapler mishandling

Masterlist

WC:4181

The halls of Hogwarts were filled with hushed whispers and mindless patter of gossip. The newest topic of the year? 

Professor {L/N}, the newest astronomy hire. An Alchemist who perfected her work through star charting. Lupin had recommended you for the post to assist Sinistra. Mostly, however, you were hired on to assist with the newest project under Dumbledore. With your studies in the North Pole, you were tasked with on and off communications with the centaur herd within the Forbidden Forest. Specifically, their astronomy masters. It was easy, given your track record with magical creatures. Creating a bridge of mutual understanding between the professors and the herd. Dumbledore also saw you valuable to both potions and alchemy class; meaning you met a lot of students very fast.

So almost everyone knew you, you ran a tight ship in class, playful and respectful to the students paired with a charming personality, no one could bring themselves to even hate you.

That's probably how the rumors began, truthfully. Who doesn't want their two favorite teachers to end up together?

Much like Lupin, the students adored you. Hermione especially, after learning of your academic achievements of the past, while being a muggleborn witch. 

Your first reaction to seeing him probably don't help. First few steps into your new place of employment and you hurry over to the only face you cared to recognize, and give him a hug and a thank you for the recommendation. 

It wasn't anything big and it wasn't anything of a spectacle, but Merlin, was Hogwarts boring. The thrill of gossip seemed to have every student in a choke hold. Some said you were both childhood friends turned lovers, some said you were married and it was a scandalous affair, most of the rumors were just students talking about how perfect you both fit together. 

Your caring, funny, and nurturing behavior, to his stern more rugged form of bonding, you were affectionately dubbed ‘mum and dad.’ 

Never to your face however, and mostly by the first and seventh years. Something about growing shame and losing it in your final days of Hogwarts, remarkable.

~~~

“I'm telling you! He looks at her like she is the very stars she teaches us about!” A seventh year sighed dreamily with her friends. She had her chin in her palms and was staring up at the front of class while a few of their classmates took the practical exam. “I wish someone would look at me like that.”

“Really! I haven't seen so much tension between two faculty before! I wouldn't be surprised to find them snogging in the halls!” One of them joked and the other girls laughed.

“Truly, but I saw Professor {L/N} wearing a wedding ring. She took it off and put it in her pocket before class started. I wonder if they are, you know~ Never have I seen Professor Lupin wear one.” She wiggled her eyebrows and the original girl spoke up with a gasp.

“Oh don't you say that! Professor Lupin and Professor {L/N} would never!” She tutted and another voice chimed in, a boy from a seat behind them, making the three turn.

“I heard that they spent Christmas at school together.” Cedric cheeked and the three girls gasped and began to murmur among themselves about it, before Lupin clapped his hands.

He found it a bit amusing, he had let them continue that far. This is what his classes have become, listening to the students muttering about him and you, seeing how close they could possibly get to the truth. Remus, at a fault, was a gossip. He learned to love the thrill of rumors from Sirius and James, but what was better than rumors about you and a colleague? Rumors about you and a colleague that were so close to the truth.

“Right now! Who's next?”

The rest of the class went smoothly, everyone finished their exams and the classroom began to file out. As Lupin got comfortable in his seat, his door peaked open.

“If you are here for tutoring, please note my hours are posted on the door, this first hour has been reserved already.” Lupin called out from his chair, head leaned back. 

“Tutoring, hm?” A song-like voice rang out from the door. He slowly smirked and leaned forward, eyes locking onto yours. You were holding a box of Merlin knows what, walking straight up to his desk with that beautiful smile. 

“Is that so unbelievable?” He teased, voice lower as he stood up and walked around his desk. Looking over your shoulder to peek into the box, seeing several random objects, including a stapler, a retractable ruler, a metal pointing stick, and other random muggle things.

“Oh, totally. I think I remember you almost lost it when Peter asked for your notes.” You teased him and he chuckled, his breath brushing against your neck. He admired the way you seemed to not flinch, but melt into his proximity. 

“Peter was a terrible student.” He mumbled and you laughed, his hand slipping around your waist and leaning down to kiss the side of your neck. You laughed harder and squirmed away. 

“Hands to yourself. Now, show me where I can hide this contraband.” You lifted the box and shook it a bit. “The things they allow in muggle schools! Hmph!” You mused and he laughed, walking you up to his office and to the far back near a storage closet. He opened the door for you and you set the box down, looking around curiously.

The room was small, but big enough for four people to stand in it comfortably. The walls were covered in shelves filled with items from all over the school years, you ran your finger along one of the shelves and let the dust collect.

“What's on your mind, hm?” Lupin mused and you turned to smirk at him.

“Just wondering where they are hiding the really bad stuff. Still in Filtch’s closet?” You hummed as he stepped into the small room with you. His eyes looked you over and you gave him a look.

“Why's that, darling?”

“Just curious, out of all the things in that closet,” You hummed as Remus wrapped his arms around your middle and pulled you against him. Your fingers dancing along his shirt collar. “Wonder how many of them were from you and that little gang of yours.” You hummed and he laughed.

Leaning down, he pressed his lips to yours. It was chaste and sweet. He loved moments like this, away from everyone, where he could love you properly. He gave a hum as you got on your toes and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him down as he pulled you closer.

~~~

“I truly don't  think they have something going on. It's maddening really! The whole school seems to see it but me!” Ron groaned as he walked down the hall with Harry and Hermione, seemingly offended at the idea that the new Astronomy teacher was dating or even had interest in Lupin.

"I wouldn't put too much stock in rumors about someone's love life, Ronald," Hermione retorted, rolling her eyes.

“Yeah, sorry Ron, but you're kind of…” Harry rolled his wrists and Ron narrowed his eyes.

“Kind of what?” 

“Kind of..” Harry trailed off.

“Kind of a complete idiot when it comes to love.” Hermione finally snapped, hugging her books to her chest. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to meet Professor Lupin.” She huffed and stomped off.

Ron was left standing there like an idiot, looking over at Harry. 

“What did I do?”

Harry tried to hide his smile and patted Ron's shoulder to urge him along and out of the halls.

~~~

The kiss had grown a bit heated, Remus pushed you deeper into the closet as he muttered about how badly he needed to have you in his arms. How much he loved you, how he wanted you closer, so impossibly close.

You, of course, returned the sentiment. He was made for your hands it seemed, every moment he wasn't between them made you yearn for just another hour of listless cuddles or moments like this. Sneaking away from responsibilities to show your love and devotion to one another. 

If only it could last longer-

“Professor Lupin?” Hermione's voice called out into his office. Remus cursed and you quickly stumbled back. He cleared his throat, shuffling through the confiscated objects, to find anything he could snag. 

“I'll be out in a moment!” He called back as you fixed his tie and ruffled shirt, he grabbed the first thing he spotted and stole another quick kiss from you before leaving the room.

You leaned against a shelf and watched from the crack of the door in amusement as Lupin hurried to his desk.

“Ms. Granger, I am terribly sorry, is it possible for us to reschedule?” Remus pressed and looked at what he had in his hand.

A stapler.

Why on earth did he grab a stapler?

Quickly he sat at his desk and pulled out a few assignments. Grabbing some he had already graded and began to staple them together. 

Hermione was no fool and he knew that, she stared at him in bewilderment, slowly putting her hands on her books tighter. “Uhm, Professor? Isn't that the stapler Professor {L/N} confiscated from Creevey?” 

Lupin began to staple things a bit quicker, waving her off. 

“Yes, Ms. Granger, I think it would be, but I did borrow it from the confiscated,” He weaned on, collected and poised, a bit too good at putting up a face. Everytime you two have almost been caught, he's shown this side. 

“Why would you possibly need a stapler?” He asked in disbelief.

“To.. staple?” He lifted his eyebrow at her. “I do appreciate your curiosity, but I assure you this is none of your concern.” He spoke idley, having opened the stapler and pressed the top down against the pages and his table. Hermione seemed appalled at the misuse. 

“Now, if you'll please allow me to pick another time-” Before he could finish his statement, he attempted to raise his hand, only for his wrist to be locked in place. He looked down, just to see he had stapled his own sleeve to the desk under a few pages of paper. 

You had to cover your mouth and so did Hermione.

“Uhm, on second thought, sir, I think I'll spend my study hour in the library.” She slowly smirked, turning to briskly walk away.

Remus slowly sunk his face into his hands, the second his classroom door was closed he waved his hand to shut his office door. Only for the room to be filled with your laughter.

You walked out of the room, holding your sides as Lupin lost his front and stared at you with flushed cheeks.

“Not a word-”

“No! No please!” You wheezed out. “Several! Several words must be had!” You doubled over his desk, struggling to get the staple from his sleeves, when you finally managed, you were throwing your head back absolutely lost in boisterous laughter.

Remus wasn't even mad. How could he be? You looked so damn happy. So giddy with joy at the embarrassing show he put on. Quickly, he stood, walking around his desk with a purpose and grabbed your cheeks. You were still struggling to catch your breath as he playfully scoffed at you.

“Not very polite, Professor {L/N}.” He taunted and you grabbed his biceps and clung to him to try and clam down. It didn't help when he leaned down and began to pepper kisses all over your hot face. 

“Mercy!” You wheezed and he shook his head.

“What happened to all those words, Professor?” He teased and you shook your head, giggling as he absolutely mawled you with his lips.

~~~

The Grandhall was lively with the buzz of Sirius Black’s attacks. Managing to get into the Gryffindors’ common room was a feat that bewildered everyone.

However, what everyone was truly talking about was how he broke into the astronomy tower and Professor {L/N}’s office. It had managed to get out that Sirius Black himself left you a note that Dumbledore promptly confiscated. More accurately, the conversation was about how unbothered you were about the news.

That, and how a certain professor reacted to that news. 

He had gone down to the commons with McGonagall to check on Harry and the other students. Only when Flitwick came up in a rush and announced the break in and how you were nowhere to be found, the students watched in horror and shock as Lupin pulled his wand and ran from the towers at a speed they couldn't determine was truly human.

He found you soon after, running down the hall towards the Gryffindor tower, also looking for Harry. He stopped and pulled you into a tight hold no one could see. You were confused at first, but you eventually melted into him. You two were spied on by none other than Colin Creevey, who snapped a photo and was showing it around the lunch table. 

“See! I knew it! What a romantic! Ran straight to her in the face of danger?” One of the seventh years swooned and Ron scoffed.

“I don't get it, it's just two people hugging.” He mumbled and began to poke at his food, the twins giving each other a look before they rushed to tease Ron.

“Two people hugging,” Fred started.

“Hands below the waist!” George chimed in, holding up the photo as if to emphasize his point, gesturing to where Lupin's hands were holding you so tight your heels were slightly off the ground.

“Oh, how scandalous.” Fred concurred and Ron rolled his eyes.

“I hug Hermione, does that make us secretly married?” Ron pushed and Hermione quickly looked down at her book in a slight flush. 

“You wish.” George snickered and Fred clapped his hand on Ron's back, making him cough on his potatoes.

“Really, Ronald dearest, you wouldn't know the difference. You hardly know how to hold a girl now.” He teased and George nodded along.

“You'll get there one day, brother. For now you'll have to trust us.”

“This,” They both pointed this time.

“Is not a normal hug.” Both of them spoke at the same time.

Angelica finally spoke up. “Given the context, that man is whipped. Even if nothing is happening now, he is so in love it's humbling.” She got up and gathered her Quidditch gear.

“Come on boys.”

“Right behind you.” Fred purred and earned himself a look from her over her shoulder, George laughed as the three of them hurried off. Leaving the photo for Ginny to pick up.

“Oh yeah, there is absolutely no platonic explanation for this.” She hummed and tossed it to the center of the table, Neville shrugged, no wanting to contribute. 

“I think that whatever is happening between those two, it's clear they care about each other.” Hermione hummed and Harry finally agreed. Suddenly, he looked at his friends with a look of absolute mischief.

“Do you know how we can find out?” He mused and Hermione gave a groan and Ron shot up in his seat.

“How?”

Harry smirked and pulled out the map the twins had gifted him, showing it off to his friends with a cocky smirk. You had caught him with it days ago, and simply zipped your lips and walked away.

“If they are meeting anywhere, it's likely the astronomy tower.”

~~~

Now.. the plan didn't go exactly as planned.

“And I simply can not comprehend how all three of you continue to be the only Gryffindors I've had to reprimand this year!” Lupin’s voice filled the otherwise silent and empty Defense Against The Dark Arts classroom. Unfortunately for the trio, who were out far past curfew, Lupin just so happened to be on his way to the Astronomy tower when he spotted them seemingly just on time for his arrival.

“What about my brothers?” Ron muttered before Hermione shot him a look, elbow jabbing his side.

“Ronald.” She hissed.

The entirety of Hogwarts Valley had been buzzing with the news of Sirius Black’s newest escapade into the castle and Lupin could not comprehend why the three thought it was a good idea to do everything but what they were told. 

“Safety comes first and for me to find you lot outside of your dorms with a murder on the loose? With this bloody-” Lupin began to lift the map before his eyes snapped up at the sound of his door opening. He quickly shut his mouth when he saw you peak into the dark space.

“Remus?” You called out, before you paused and stared at the four infront of you. Your mind firing off a million excuses in quick succession. “Oh, I was unaware you had company.”

Lupin sighed and rubbed his face, seeming to untangle himself from the thralls of his anger. It wasn't uncommon for you two to find eachother late at night like this, but was certainly not the greatest idea of his yet- reprimanding the trio when he knew you'd be coming. As you always did when he didn't meet you at the Astronomy tower as promised. His favorite part of the end of a stressful day was a night full of whispers, stories and playful remarks. Reminiscing on your school years while recreating some memories long forgotten after the war. This time, not in his dorm, but his office or your room. “It's quite alright. I can still review your lesson plans.”

He was a terrifyingly good liar. That should not be attractive.

“Right. I will be in your office, Lupin.” You remarked and began to walk past the group of three who looked at you like you might save them. Sorry kiddos- he was grumpy enough as it was. 

You gave them a grimace, glancing at the map before quickly looking away with wide eyes and hurrying over to the office. Lupin caught the look and held up his hand. “Stop.”

You squeezed your eyes shut and slowly turned to face him. Giving him your adorable nervous look that you knew didn't work on him- well, you tried.

He made a come hither motion and you walked over, ready to be lectured like the kids beside you. He held up the map and you gave a nervous smile. 

“What? However, did you find this, Harry? This is supposed to be in Flinch’s office!” You gave the worst and most unbelievable fake disappointed tone, hands on your hips and frowning down at the three. You struggled not to smile as Harry gave a small one, before laughing a bit. Hermione covered her face in a mix of fluster and secondhand embarrassment. Ron was grinning ear to ear. 

“{L/N}...” Lupin warned and you huffed.

“You got me in trouble with the big boss here, Harry.” You teased and he finally cracked his lips into a brighter smile. You looked back at Remus and slowly interlocked your fingers in front of your lips, as if it did anything to hide your face. “In my defense-”

“You three are dismissed.” He mused quickly and slammed the paper on the table beside him. You tried your best to hide your smile. It was hard to take him seriously when you have seen him panic and staple his sleeve to a desk. The trio hurried to shuffle out, Harry sent you a greatful look and you simply winked at him. Something Remus rolled his eyes at.

“Did you see Harry with the map?” He asked in a stern tone when the kids left. You looked away and tried to look a little regretful. 

“It's very possible.” 

“And you didn't think to take it?” He asked in an incredulous tone.

“I mean, it certainly crossed my mind.” You slowly stopped hiding your smile and looked back to the taller man who was taking a few steps into your space.

“And you didn't?” He pushed.

“Well, in all fairness, Rem. It is technically his.” You snarked back finally and Remus gave a bitter laugh. 

“Professor {L/N}, did you think that maybe if this map fell into the wrong hands it could cause a serious danger to Harry?” He pushed and you clicked your tongue. You knew who he was talking about. A conversation you've had a million times, well, more an argument. It got worse when he heard of the note.

He was so willing to believe Sirius Black to be a killer, while you believed Sirius could bring himself to the point of ending someone's life, James Potter was more than a human to him. Even with his plea of guilty, you couldn't believe it. James, Lily, and Harry? You would stake your life on it. He was innocent.

It was what you were looking for, an explanation, hopefully that was what the note was for. But unlike your communications with the magical creatures of the forest, Dumbledore was not so willing to give up information when he had it. The old prick-

“I hate when we talk about this.” You huffed in honesty and leaned back on one of the desks of the room. He sighed through his nose and pinched the bridge that connected it to his forehead. “Honey-”

“Ah ah ah! Honey is for marriage.” You mused and he did his best to fight the smile growing on his face. Easily letting you steer the conversation from his own negative thoughts, he hated being upset around you. “That so?”

“It's very so. More so than most so’s.” You hummed and he blinked a few times at you before he couldn't help but smirk. 

“Give me my mother's ring back then.” He mused and held out his hand. You have a faux gasp. 

“Excuse you, sir. I seem to remember your mother telling you this belonged to me.” 

“When we were 18!” He challenged, letting himself fall victim to your antics. Like school children. “And last I checked, your reaction was less then pleasant.”

“We had been dating for a year and I was going to the North Pole in my defense, tart boy.” You scoffed and cringed at the memory. How you practically fall out of your chair when Hope made a comment about her ring. 

“Tart boy?”

“Tart boy.”

“I'll show you a tart boy.” He scoffed and took your cheeks. You giggled like a goofball, grabbing his lapels and trying to pull him closer. He smirked at you and kept his distance.

“Remus-” You huffed and glared at him a bit. His smirk only grew as he reached into your pocket, pulling out the modest gem. You rolled your eyes fondly and held out your hand for him, he slipped the ring back in its rightful place.

“Sorry, call me old fashioned. But I'd like to kiss my fiancé, not my coworker.” He teased and you couldn't help but laugh. 

“You absolute sap.”

“Hard not to be.” He mumbled and leaned in, finally kissing you. Both your eyelids lowered but he held eye contact. So much affection bumbling in your chests, it was too much to look away. Eventually, you gave into your shyness, closing your eyes. He slowly pushed your knees apart and slipped between them, making your face grow hot.

He pulled away at this and you huffed, he smirked at you when you looked back up at him. “Hey, sir, your lips on mine again. It's a marital duty and all that jazz.”

“Thought we had to be married for marital privileges, honey?” 

“Oh don't use anything I say around you against me, I can hardly think.”

He bellowed out a laugh at your mischievous look up at him. Slowly biting your lip as you struggled to keep your confident act up.

“Whatever will I do with you, {L/N}?”

“Well, I have a few ideas.” You hummed and began to fiddle with his tie. He curled an eyebrow and you looked forward, looking up at his hazel eyes with a playful pout. “Kiss me again. I promise, you keep my lips occupied, no more bad behavior.”

“Because you won't be able to talk?” 

“Precisely.”

“What in the world!?” You suddenly heard from the far corner of the room. Your face filled with shock and snapped over to see an empty corner, you could of sworn you heard Ronald just a moment ago.

 Remus quickly moved from between your legs and waved his wand, yanking off the invisibility cloak to reveal an appalled Ron, a delighted Harry, and a flustered Hermione.

“Bloody hell!” Remus boomed and you covered your mouth and looked away. Doing your best not to laugh.

“Yes, mum and dad do kiss when the kids are away.” You cheeked and Remus looked at you like you had just made some grand offense to his ears.

Hermione giggled and Harry’s smile grew ten fold.

Ron, however, seemed very displeased.

“I owe the twins so much money.”

[elssero]

having thoughts about stoner sero x secret stoner reader

h.sero

♰ slightly suggestive, lots of talk about weed. i wrote this while stoned :3 i love weed and seros my favourite so that means he loves weed too!!

your smoking a blunt on your dorm balcony the first time your caught. you hear movements to your right and your head snaps towards the noise- it’s sero, out on his balcony sniffing around like a fucking idiot. he turns around and his eyes lock directly with yous, blunt in your mouth as you take a long draw. his mouth forms a small circle as he watches you inhale and exhale- perfectly, making it incredibly clear to sero that this is definitely not your first time smoking. not even close.

he watches you closely for a second- brows furrowing as if trying to crack some kind of code. you’ve never spoken to sero before, at least not properly, it’s not that you don’t get along with the boy- not at all. he just always seems to be surrounded by a crowd in which you opt out of being around.

you don’t have an actual problem with his friends- you can tell their great people, you just prefer the company of your own- quieter friends.

despite only being around half way through the smoke you decide your done, not quite ready to let him watch u finish the blunt, you let it go and float it quickly over to sero, he’s only a single dorm to your right so it’s a pretty easy job, just incase- you float your lighter over with it and you were right to do so, the blunts no longer lit when it reaches him, he grabs the smoke quickly, as well as your light that follows and presses on the gas, you watch as the glow from the light shines on his face- highlighting his features. he holds the lighter up to you and you take this as a sign of him being done with it, pulling it back over to you.

you don’t stay out on your balcony for long after that, instead opting to make your way back inside- leaving a very confused and red faced sero outside.

you don’t talk about that night- at least not for awhile. instead he begins smiling at you in class, giving you a little wave as he walks into the class and walks straight towards his friends. you keep silent- liking it better that way in the mornings as you don’t quite have the energy to converse with people so early.

you should probably be stressing that sero knows about your little habit but your not. if anything he was probably the best person in the class to know- seeing as he’s very open about his own interest in substances.

you know he won’t judge you- you doubt anyone in the class really would, that doesn’t stop you from wanting to keep it your little secret though- you just hope sero wont open his mouth.

the cycle continues- every few nights you head outside, smoke half a blunt before floating it over too sero for him to finish- it’s stupid. you two haven’t really ever had a full conversation in your years at UA but still, you find yourself looking toward to your late nights.

your in bed tonight. completely out of weed for the week before you can find time to pick some up at the weekend, your new relationship with sero causing a serious dent how long your stuff would normally last you.

struggling to sleep you take out your phone, you make a plan to open up instagram before a message catches your attention.

sero: come outside.

it’s the first time he’s ever messaged you. he must’ve gotten your number from the class chat you’d been added too last year by uraraka. you don’t hesitate getting up, not even bothering to change out of your arguably showy nightwear. you feel it when the cold hair hits your exposed thighs and you immediately wish you had at least such a proper pair of pants on.

he’s already outside when you step out, stood lazily leaning against the barristers of his balcony- he looks at you, eyes trailing your body and you watch as they widen slightly when he reaches your lower half.

he brings his eyes back up to meet yours and he beckons you over. your confused for a second. you don’t have a blunt to give him? until he mouths back no you. he’s pointing at you before again gesturing behind him. get over here.

you don’t argue- too sleepy to fully argue the pros and cons as your now floating over to his dorm balcony- at night- alone.

your face to face with him when you get a look at what he’s holding in his other hand- a blunt. he doesn’t say anything as he gives it to you, placing it between your lips and he holds lighter up to light it- you inhale.

you ignore the fact that the situation you’ve found yourself in is extremely inappropriate- you can’t even begin to imagine the trouble you would be in if your caught- blunt in your mouth and with a boy alone at night.

he begins to speak to you- the first real conversation you’ve ever had with the black haired boy.

“can’t believe i didn’t know you smoked” he’s smiling- you can’t quite tell if the tone of his voice is that of surprise or teasing.

“you never asked.” it’s a short reply, much like the ones you usually give your classmates. it’s not like you don’t enjoy their company, you just enjoy the quiet more.

“you never really gave me the chance.” you decide not to respond. instead opting to take another long draw of his weed before taking it from your mouth and handing it back to him.

you thank him politely, placing a hand on the banister as you prepare to levitate yourself back to your dorm.

“you should smoke with us sometime!” it’s rushed- you can tell by the increased volume of his voice when he speaks now. you don’t really understand why? you’ve never really been close before but the offer of free weed is one you might need to take him up on.

“i’ll think about it.” you give him a small smile as you depart from his balcony. only turning back to look at him for a second before you open your own dorm door. he hasn’t moved an inch from where you left him and you decide you think he’s kinda cute like that. all frozen up and a little flustered.

you close your dorm room behind you meaning you don’t see the little cheer he does when he’s sure your finally gone. bumping his fist in victory as he finishes his smoke.

he’s finally found a way to wriggle into your life and he couldn’t be more excited.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for turning someone in for academic dishonesty?

I’m an American IB diploma candidate, and this ask does center around that, so sorry if we all just sound unbearably seventeen-years-old.

If you don’t know what the IB diploma is, think of it as if you had to write a bunch of essays and take a bunch of classes and do a bunch of service hours and then take AP tests on all those classes and add the AP scores together, and if they add up to a certain number, you get a special diploma that looks good to colleges.

Only eight people in the entire grade (we’re seniors and our exams are happening so we’re at the very end) are left in the IB diploma program right now because we made it this far and are all hoping our exam scores and essays. The program isn’t super popular at our school so we tend to have to mostly prepare ourselves for exams and such, so we’re all very proud of ourselves for getting this far and hoping that when our scores come out we get the diploma.

In short, we’ve done TONS of work. TONS OF WORK. And we haven’t received the amount of support that some IB schools are able to give. And suddenly, one of the IB diploma candidates admits in the group chat, “yeah, chatgpt wrote all of my IB essays.” If you know stuff about IB, she explicitly admitted to cheating on her Extended Essay, TOK Essay, TOK exhibition, Chemistry HL IA, History HL IA, Literature HL Essay, and Art HL Comparative Study.

That’s hours and hours and hours and hours of work that the rest of the diplomats candidates did that she’s just flippantly admitting she let an AI do for her.

but…….it also wasn’t really any of my business. So I wasn’t sure whether I should tell or not—especially since I’m the known goody-two-shoes of the group and I didn’t want to be viewed as a tattletale.

I asked two of the diploma candidates I’m friends with what they thought. One of them said “don’t be a snitch,” and the other said she wasn’t sure and kinda felt like I should talk. So… split response.

I was leaning towards “don’t be a snitch,” but eventually I just felt really indignant that this girl and I might receive the same end result for doing wildly different amounts of work. And I had evidence that she cheated—she admitted it herself. So I went to the school’s IB coordinator and I talked. I showed the screenshot. I essentially betrayed one of the candidates in a very tight knit group of students who are all breaking our backs to get this diploma with little to no IB-specific support from our teachers (our classes are all co-seated with non-IB-test-takers, who take up most of the class, which is an entirely different issue), but now it turns out one of us wasn’t even doing the work the whole time…

So I did it and it went to the administration and they’re “deciding how to proceed.”

Reason I’m worried I’m TA: she trusted us with that information and I told on her

Reason I think I might not be TA: it feels unfair that we should have the same shot at getting the IB diploma when the nights I stayed up crafting the perfect extended essay were the same nights she asked chatgpt to write her an essay and then moved on with her life and somehow did it well enough to not get caught.

AITA?

[bellarkeselection]

Hiii!! I saw that you wrote for Georgie Cooper from you Sheldon and I was wondering if you would write for him again 😊 Can I get Georgie with a latina gf that loves to cook, whenever she goes over to his house she's always bringing food from her culture (I'm Mexican so Mexican food ofc) .

Culture Cooking

I am not Latina so I hope I wrote this correctly 🤗 and a very short request in my opinion but I hope you still enjoy

Coming out of Missy’s room that used to be Georgie’s old bedroom, I had decided to get up early and make the family breakfast. I had stayed the night after my date with her older brother, and we didn’t get back till really late, so she said I could sleep over in her room. Walking down the small hallway and into the kitchen, I got lost in thought, thinking of the ingredients that I needed. I have been bringing over some spices and stuff when I would come over here. I loved cooking for Georgie, and he always seemed to enjoy my family's food. “Hey…uh what are you doing up this early?”

Whipping my head around away from the stove I saw Georgie stumbling his way into the kitchen. “Oh hey. I thought I’d make the family my kind of breakfast.”

“Sweet.” He smiled sitting down at the table watching me go back to cooking. My family had moved to Texas after my father got a new job here being the assistant principal.

One day after I was leaving from English class I had been walking down the hallway and accidentally bumped into Georgie. All of our notebooks went flying and that’s how we met basically. Turning the oven off I put the whole meal together on a plate and slid it across the table to him. “I present to you one of my families favorite things to eat for breakfast.”

“Woah this smells really good.” Georgie gave me praise picking up his fork and dove right in. He took a big bite making the same noise he does whenever his Meemaw makes brisket for dinner that he loves.

Georgie stared at me with a mouth full of food. “So what’s in this?”

“Let’s see it’s a fried tortilla topped with salsa. And there’s eggs, pulled chicken, cream cheese and bean included inside it too.” I chuckled sitting down and taking some bites out of the one I had made for myself with him.

Georgie took a few minutes to finish his food wiping some sauce that was left on his plate. I bite my lip trying not to laugh at seeing some cream in his hair where I moved one hand up wiping it away. “Awe dang it! I guess you are a really good cook if I get it in my hair.” He chuckled back at me.

“Yeah suppose so.” I responded moving our plates off the table hearing someone else entering the kitchen seeing it was Missy.

She squealed hugging me by the waist. “Hi Y/n. What did you make for breakfast?”

“She made a fried tortilla.” Her older brother said forking some more from the pan onto his plate.

Missy gave me a confused look. “A fried tortilla?”

“Yes but it’s actually called Chilaquiles.” I told her before she sat down and I made her a plate of her own.

Georgie finished his second plate putting his plate up in the sink then came over to me. He wrapped his arms around my waist bringing me closer to his chest with that same cheeky grin. “Even if I can’t pronounce your food half the time. You’re still a really good cook. Everybody in the family enjoys it. So thank you for this and all the other meals.”

“You’re welcome, Georgie. I always love cooking for y’all.” Draping my arms over his shoulders I grinned up at him kissing him slowly where he tightened his hands around me deepening the kiss.

He moved one hand into my hair and the other on my waist. We we’re getting caught up in the kiss that we almost wound have gone further if it wasn’t for his sister being in the kitchen with us. “Eww. If I knew you two were going to kiss after you ate I would have eaten my breakfast in front of the tv.” Missy made a look of discomfort.

“Awe I’m sorry Missy. I can’t help if he’s a good kisser and likes my food at the same time.” I shrugged my shoulders with him draping an arm over my shoulder so I laid my head on his shoulder since he was slightly taller than I was.

Georgie looped our hands together sending me a smirk. “Best of both words, my darling. You’re pretty awesome Y/n.”

“Stop being cute or I’m gonna barf my food.” She whined at us with her tounge sticking out.

I gasped remembering that their parents were already at work for the day so that left Sheldon in our care. Snapping my fingers at Missy I questioned his twin sister worried he needed to eat. “Missy, go tell your brother that I made breakfast.”

“Sheldon, Y/n made breakfast!” She spun around in her seat hollering towards their bedroom causing me and her older brother to start cracking up in laughter. Squeezing Georgie’s hand in mine I always enjoyed anytime I got to cook for this family.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[elfwreck]

I have a friend who isn't anti-porn but it makes her sad that fanfic has a reputation for being porny and usually not very good. I'm fine with both those things and my views mostly align with that of AO3. I disagree with the idea that porn and badness are treated as equivalent, but for most people that's just how they think. But I was wondering if youve ever written something about this?

There is a lot of smut at AO3.

There is a lot of bad writing at AO3.

There's a lot of badly written smut at AO3.

...None of those are problems except for the people who think there is something wrong with those existing, or that there needs to be some external value that "balances" those that make those acceptable to exist as unwanted side-effects of "the good stuff."

The badly-written smut is also "the good stuff."

It's part of the reason AO3 exists. It's not intended to be an archive for "the high-quality fanfic that could be published if it weren't about characters that someone else wrote first"; it's an archive for "what fanfic writers want to write." That makes the terrible writing and the tacky porn and the badly-written tacky porn part of the reason the archive exists.

Tangent 1 (I'll connect these points later): Theodore Sturgeon said "90% of everything is crud." He was more-or-less referring to the science fiction field in the 50s, but it definitely extended to politics, business, and writing outside of science fiction.

...He was talking about published books in the 50s. Turns out, a lot more than 90% of writing is crud when there aren't any gatekeepers between it and the readers. But also:

Tangent 2, from the book "Art and Fear":

[A] ceramics teacher announced on opening day that he was dividing the class into two groups. All those on the left side of the studio, he said, would be graded solely on the quantity of work they produced, all those on the right solely on its quality. His procedure was simple: on the final day of class he would bring in his bathroom scales and weigh the work of the “quantity” group: fifty pound of pots rated an “A”, forty pounds a “B”, and so on. Those being graded on “quality”, however, needed to produce only one pot — albeit a perfect one — to get an “A”. Well, came grading time and a curious fact emerged: the works of highest quality were all produced by the group being graded for quantity. It seems that while the “quantity” group was busily churning out piles of work – and learning from their mistakes — the “quality” group had sat theorizing about perfection, and in the end had little more to show for their efforts than grandiose theories and a pile of dead clay.

You don't get to "quality writing" without going through a lot of crappy writing.

That doesn't mean the crappy writing is garbage to be thrown out. If you make 50 pots or bowls or vases, and only one of them is The Good One... most of the rest are okay. Maybe not sale-quality good, but your-kitchen-table quality good. Maybe some aren't that good and are kids-toy-in-the-sandbox level good.

Bad writing has a purpose for the writer: they can use it as practice to get better. It has a purpose for the reader: It can serve as inspiration ("I can do better than that") or grammatical instruction ("that...does not work; why doesn't that work?") or just as entertainment ("eh, so it's missing a few commas; I can still understand it").

Smut and porn writing works the same way. It's of some value to the writer, and some to the readers.

It's not of value to everyone. That's what tags and filters are for, and why there's a summary and list of stats (like word counts)--so you can figure out if you're one of the readers for whom this piece of writing is useful or interesting.

But AO3, like any library, is not there to take the top 5% of Excellent Writing and provide it a showcase. It is absolutely for all 50 lbs of pots.

If your friend wants to read the good stuff, there are rec lists and collections to help her find it.

If she already manages that, and is just annoyed at how much of the not-good stuff (however she defines that) exists... she's picked the wrong battle. She's arguing with the ocean that it has too many kinds of fish and some are poisonous a lot of them are ugly.

[dumbslvtforethan]

✁ THE DINER. ethan landry

inspired by "THE DINER" by billie eilish.

warnings: stalking, obssesion, posessive, no smut just plot343 words

navigation

𐙚 mdni!! ↓↓ 𐙚༘⋆ೀೀ

"DONT BE AFRAID OF ME, IM WHAT YOU NEED." That was the note slipped under your dorm door. You assumed it was from your so-called stalker, as your friends would tell you whenever they saw the notes he left. At first, they were things like, "I know we're meant to be" or "You're starring in my dreams." You leaned down to pick up the note when your roommate, Mindy, stopped you."No, Y/N, enough. Seriously, this stalker stuff is getting creepy.""Oh, don't call whoever this is a stalker. Look, it's nothing."Mindy picked up the note and read it. "Don't be afraid of me?? Is that what you call nothing? For me, this is sounding a bit Ghostface-like." She looked at you with judging eyes. "Come on, we're going to be late for class."You grabbed her arm, leaving your dorm. In front of Mindy, you pretended to brush it off. You knew she'd freak out, but in reality, you were also scared, terrified.

"So, how's stalker boy?" Tara asked while you two were walking to the lunch table."Tara, I'm starting to get scared," you said, stopping in your tracks."Trust me, it's nothing. Plus, think about it, someone is obsessed with you.""Yeah, you're probably right." You both sat down with the rest of the group."Hey guys," Chad said, smiling."Hey, where is Mindy?" you asked. She was the only one missing."Oh, she forgot her pen or something. She'll be back in a bit," Anika said. That was technically true, but Mindy was actually looking for more notes or letters from your stalker. An envelope was attached to the fridge, marked "From: Stalker Boy." Mindy yanked it from the fridge and tore it open.In the meantime, you were sitting next to Ethan. You two were never really close; you'd only talk because of Econ."Are you okay?" he asked, putting his hand on your shaking leg."Yeah, I'm fine, don't worry." You smiled sweetly, turning to face him, and he smiled back."Hey, I'm back," Mindy said, eyeing you. You stood up from the table and went to talk to her."Stalker boy wrote you a letter.""Wait, a real handwritten letter?"Mindy nodded. "Well, that's... weird.""Finally, you came to your senses. Anyways, I destroyed it.""Mindy! That could've been evidence.""Yeah, no, I don't think 'you could be my wife' is evidence." You both chuckled.Ethan was watching from the table, reading your lips. Knowing you knew about his letter just made him more aroused.

Later, you got ready to go to a random Halloween frat party someone was hosting. Maybe you should've worn an outfit that showed less skin because the number of guys hitting on you was obscene. Some were gentle, talking about your future together, while others were more aggressive, kissing you without permission. You needed to catch some air.You stepped outside, sitting on one of the steps of the doorway. "Hey, can I sit here?" Steve asked. He was from Econ, and you always thought he was cute."Yeah, sure.""So, are you enjoying the party?""Not really, actually. Guys keep hitting on me. I want someone who wants me for me, not just for my body," you blurted out."I guess I feel the same way." You both stared at each other. You leaned in and kissed him without much thinking."Oh my God, I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking." You put your hand over your mouth and got up."Wait," he ran over. "I liked it." He smiled and kissed you again. "Do you need a ride home?" You nodded, smiling. You couldn't believe you just kissed the boy you liked and now he was taking you home. You both walked over to his car, and he opened the door for you.What you couldn't see was Ethan watching. He tilted his head slowly, observing. He pulled his phone from his pocket and took a picture of you two, gripping his beer bottle, chugging one more time before throwing it on the ground when you both took off. He put on his helmet and rode his motorcycle to the diner.

He sat down at his usual place and wrote you another letter, more aggressive and explicit than the last one. He didn't even care if you'd be scared. You were his, and he was yours, at least that's what he thought.

You came back home exhausted. Mindy wasn't home; she texted you saying she was sleeping at Anika's. You entered your bedroom, set your purse on your bed.Sitting in the bathtub, you let the warm water envelop you, trying to wash away the anxiety that clung to you. The steam rose around you, and for a moment, you could almost forget about the notes and the unease they brought. After a while, you drained the tub and slipped into your softest pajamas, feeling a bit more at ease.As you walked back into your room, you noticed the clock on your nightstand blinking 11:45 PM. You sat on the edge of your bed, brushing your still-damp hair. Your phone buzzed with a text from Mindy."Are you okay? Did you get home safe?""Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired," you replied, setting your phone down.You tried to distract yourself by scrolling through social media, but your thoughts kept drifting back to the stalker and the unnerving notes. You considered telling the campus security, but part of you felt it would be dismissed as a prank or overreaction. Besides, you didn't have any solid evidence, thanks to Mindy's well-meaning destruction of the latest letter.After a while, your eyelids grew heavy. You turned off your phone and snuggled under your blankets, hoping sleep would come quickly. But as you lay there in the dark, every creak of the dorm, every rustle of the wind outside, seemed magnified. You couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching you.

Meanwhile, at the diner, Ethan was finishing his letter. He wrote with a fervor, his handwriting becoming more erratic as he poured his obsessive thoughts onto the paper. The letter was filled with declarations of love, veiled threats, and vivid descriptions of his fantasies about you. He folded it carefully, placing it in an envelope with your name on it. As the night stretched on, you finally drifted off into a restless sleep, unaware of the shadowy figure lurking outside your window, watching. Ethan stood there for a moment, his breath fogging up the glass as he stared at you. He slipped the new letter under your door before disappearing into the night.You woke up in the middle of the night with a headache, feeling slightly more rested but still uneasy.

The memory of the kiss with Steve brought a small smile to your face, but it was quickly overshadowed by the sight of another envelope lying on the floor inside your door. Your heart sank as you saw another paper "310-807-3956" it was your phone number. you picked it up, the familiar handwriting sending chills down your spine.You tore it open, dreading what you'd find. The words were more intense, more disturbing than before. "i could change your life, you could be my wife" it read. "please dont call the cops, they'll make me stop, and i just wanna talk". "No one else can have you. I'll make sure of it." The explicit nature of the letter made your skin crawl. Suddenly, your phone rang. The caller ID displayed "Unknown Number." You hesitated for a moment before answering, your heart pounding in your chest. "Hello?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly. "Hey gorgeous, did you get my letter?" The voice on the other end was eerily calm, almost familiar. "Stop calling me, please," you pleaded, trying to keep your voice steady. "I memorized your number, now I call you when I please," he continued, ignoring your plea. "I tried to end it all, but now I'm back up on my feet. I saw you in the car with someone else and couldn't sleep. If something happens to him, you can bet that it was me." The call ended abruptly, leaving you in stunned silence. The phone slipped from your hand, clattering to the floor.

what the fuck.

part two?

@jchampionsgf on tumblr

a/n: heard the diner and decided to make history

[melancholic-guts]

student council president and the student council media officer!

pairings : Kim Minji x gn! reader

genre : fluff!

a/n : this is my first fic, hope you like it!

parts: part 1

warnings : none (?)

Being the member of the student council was atrocious, - especially as a loner who had little to no friends, probably 4-5 friends who were all - well the same as you, unlike you tho, you had a 90-98 score average, making you the smartest of the group.

You also had a crush on the student council president, Kim Minji. She always eyed you as you did your projects, making advertisements for the school, and others. Keeping a steadfast glare on you, your hands, shaked as they edited the poster you were gonna submit, clicking the mouse as you added decorations.

Next Day

As you walked through the hallways of the school, you reached to open your locker, but, a tap on your shoulder emerged, making you jump, as you moved your head to your back, you found her. Kim Minji, smiling at you with utmost sincerity, her soft eyes boring into yours, a warm feeling engulfed your body, your stomach having butterflies flutter inside them,

ahem.

“y/n? hello?” Minji spoke softly, she probably called your name 3-4 times, before you realized and answered, “yeah? w-whats wrong?” you stuttered out, heat rising to your cheeks as she was almost too close to you, “well, i just wanted to ask if you finished the poster yet.. its almost 4 days before the deadline.” your eyes widened, forgetting to press submit last night as you were pulling an all-nighter, god..

you responded with, “y-yeah, yeah, i just need to finish some stuff- and i’ll be done..! yeah..” You regretted stuttering, how could you stutter infront of a pretty and polite girl like her? god, you’re messing up your chances, you thought.

“Oh.. alright then.. good luck!” She responded with, enthuasism in her voice, she smiled cheekily as she returned to her group of friends, well - popular, group of friends.

As she walked away, you couldn’t help but think you had a crush on her, tho, the warm feeling engulfing you had turned cold by now, - the butterflies that once fluttered, flied out of your stomach.

how could a loser like you have a chance with her?

3rd Period

The bell ringed, waking your half lidded eyes as you gathered your materials, shoving them into your backpack as you walked out of the class. Walking towards your locker, you opened it, as a note fell down to the floor, picking it up, you opened it carefully, it wrote,

“hey, y/n, if you’re free, would you like to meet up at the park afterschool, i’ll be at the swings, waiting.

sincerely,

xxx xxxxx.”

weird.. the name was blacked out with black ink.. you shoved the note into your coats pockets, leaving it as a reminder if you forgot, which, you would never.

as school had already ended, you stormed through the halls to the exit door, as it was raining, you had to ask your friend for an umbrella, since, they always brought an extra one just incase.

“hey, could i borrow an umbrella?”

you softly spoke, a smile painted on your face.

“sure, make sure to return tomorrow, yeah?”

they responded, handing you the umbrella

“thanks, i promise i’ll return it safe.”

you said, taking the umbrella and opening it.

“have a good day, then.”

they replied, as they walked to their car, exiting school grounds

as you walked with umbrella in-hand, you went onto your bike, placing the umbrella in a modified-in pocket on your bike, perfect for rainy days and sunny days -

you now rode your bike to the park, tho it was hard to see due to harsh weather conditions - you managed to make it out alive without crashing.

you waited at the park’s benches for awhile, waiting for the rain to stop - and it did.

you now walked to the swings, finding her.

your body instantly froze in fear, your words turning into a stuttering mess.

“hey, what did you want to meet up for?”

she spoke, raising one of her eyebrows with a confused look.

“i was about to ask the same thing, didn’t you give me a letter?”

you responded, pulling out the crumpled piece of paper from your pocket.

“ah.. i guess we got played..”

she said, clearing her throat after the sentence.

“yeah.. um..”

you responded akwardly, eyes meeting the floor.

“well, while we’re still here, why don’t we continue? consider it as a friend date..”

she said, smile creeping up her face, her cheeks, visibly red.

“sure.. i mean, yeah, we can do that..”

you idly said, stuttering mid sentences.

“y/n.”

minji spoke, her tone monotone.

“huh?”

you said with a confused look, eyes meeting hers.

“i like you.”

ᯓ★ signing off, exulansis. all rights reserved. please don’t plagiarize and translate.

[mahboimahboi]

TEACHER'S PET x M!Reader (featuring Actor Mackenyu)

Smut (⚠️)

"Yo, our P.E Teacher is so fucking capital H-O-T. Do you think he's married?" You nudged your seatmate, eyes lingering towards the instructor who was standing at the front while he wrote some very important notes on the whiteboard. 'Damn, even the marker look so small in his hand', you thought to yourself, too lost in your thought. It was never your intention to especially fall in love with a teacher, let alone someone who's really strict, but it was the way how he looks so above average than the rest of the teachers in the school. He's so out of this world and looked as though he came straight out of a comic book. Oh, and let's not forget the biceps and the strong arms. He's just so ethereal.

"That's what I've heard," You got snapped out of your trance and looked at your classmate confused. She sighs and stops from listening to the lesson for a minute and turns to you, knowing you were once again daydreaming about the instructor who's literally a whole lotta years older than you. "I mean, I've heard that he's a married man and has a child. So, if i were you, I'd stop sending heart eyes to him, unless you want to get fucking obliterated by his wife." She deadpanned.

"Oh, well—"

"Mr. L/N. Yes, I'd really be glad if you'd come visit me in my office after our class." Your instrutor said, fixing the glasses he had on, before he looks towards you and eyes you. "Don't think I haven't caught you not paying any attention to my class. All you did is disturb your classmate. I can't tolerate that." He let out with a deep, authoritative voice. It sent shivers down your spine and you swore you felt yourself go pale at the sight of his tiger eyes eyeing you down with anger.

"Y-Yes, sir Maeda." You stammered, not even daring to look at his eyes. With all the times he taught the class, this is the only time he called your attention out for not listening to the class. You are finally at the last strike. Only for this specific teacher, you wanted to be seen as a good student. One who studies and does well in class to impress your instructor, but all you ever did so far was to irritate the male. So much for a good impression. Embarrassed, you buried your head in your arms, wanting to just vanish.

Later, after your class session with Mr. Maeda ended, the instructor gestures with his eyes for you to follow him to his office. You did as you are told, hanging your head low, ashamed of yourself. Usually, Mr. Maeda would talk to you about important stuff, but now it is rather silent and... awkward. The rest of the walk was quiet, too much that it was deafening.

Once you both arrive at his office, he lets you in first, looking up at him only to see him raise a brow at you. You squeaked in fear and entered the room quickly, scared with what he had in plan for you. "Mr. L/N. Your attitude in class is getting out of hand." Mr. Maeda starts, his voice low as he puts his books on his table before sitting down his swivel chair. "It's quite disrespectful staring at your teacher with so much going on inside your head." Hearing those words, you hesitantly look up to see the adult male with a smirk on his handsome face. He tilts his head to the side, then stands up from his seat and slowly starts striding his way towards you. "Tell me, what goes on in your head during my class... Y/N?" His voice came out like a slither, a spell from a book that entranced you.

You swallowed the huge lump that formed in your throat, looking away from the male. The male scoffs, leaning on the edge of his table, now stood in front of you, crossing his arms. "Look at me when I'm talking to you, Y/N. Haven't I taught you proper respect enough?" You stayed silent, but you could already feel yourself start to get hard. You subtly moved your hands to cover your erection that made an obvious tent on your pants. "Well, look who got excited." He mocked. "Y/N. While I'm asking nicely, answer me."

"I-It's... too absurd." You answered him, but the other male was unfazed.

"Well, I don't care how absurd it is." But then, a bright idea flickers in his head and a soft chuckle moves past his lips. "Alright, if you're afraid to tell me," He trailed off, moving towards you. He sat down beside you, enticingly spreading his legs open and whispering to your ear. "Why don't you show me?" His smirk grows wider, when he notices the red color on your face.

You covered your ears and moved away as far as you can from him. "S-Sir. I mustn't. You have a child and a wife. I can't simply—"

"Who told you that?" He asks you, his voice stern and sounded frustrated. You didn't say a word. "Y/N, I'm starting to get fucking bored." You started to think about it, whether or not you'd take the opportunity, but the fact that he never confirmed whether or not what you heard is true, scares you and it isn't just right.

In the end, it only took one forceful and lust-filled kiss that was initiated by Mackenyu who had one hand behind your neck. At first, shock was the only thing you felt, before the male started to feel you up and down your waist. This wasn't right. It didn't feel right at all, but why did it feel so good at the same time? You, soon melt into the kiss and start kissing him back lavishly, following the same rhythm.

Much to the male's surprise, he didn't know you were that easy of a prey and he was a predator, ready to eat the result of his hunt. Too high in the clouds and your head filled with lust, you made your way to ride on his thighs, being careful not to break the kiss. Mackenyu notices how you still looked a little hesitant. Wanting to help, he pulls away and puts his hands on both sides of your hips. "Listen, Y/N. Don't believe everything you've heard about me. You're getting too stiff for me to handle." You blushed at his words, then nodded your head in reply. "That's a good boy." He commented, before pushing his lips back to yours.

Your bottom felt a slight poke, catching your attention. You pulled away from the other male, watching you start to stroke him. "Whatever you want, doll." He smirks.

You got down to your knees, feeling the warmth he gave off. Hurriedly, you unzip the zipper to his pants only to realize that he wore no under garments underneath, turning you on even more. Due to his tight pants and the girth of his cock, the button pops off, almost hitting you on the forehead. "Oh my, sir. I've always imagined just how big you are." You stated, smirking proudly to yourself now that you've finally made a dream come true.

The male groans and puts his hand on top of your head as you desperately wrap your lips around his cock. Mackenyu lets out a breathy moan, pushing his head back as he lets you do your own thing. It felt good to know a person is very skilled with their mouth. "Fuck, doll. You're making me feel so good." He hums in pure bliss, standing up as he takes a hold of your head and starts fucking your mouth out with his dick, surprising you. Fortunately, you have trained yourself enough to get through a rough mouth-fucking, but the taller male's size is a lot larger than what you've thought. You took it good, though and it was enough for Mackenyu who looked like he was having the time of his life. "Holy shit. Fuck." He grunts, biting on his lip.

This went on for a few minutes, before his thrusts started to get sloppy, indicating that he was near his climax. He doesn't say a word or heads up, only shocking you when he buries his thick cock in your throat and finishes. "FUCK!" He moans out with his mouth left hanging open, convulsing in place.

He gives your mouth a few more thrusts to ride out his high, before pulling out and taking out spare pants from his drawer. "Haven't felt that good for so long, no rather, at all." He told you, yet you are still in a daze with what just happened, smiling to yourself. "I don't think you'd want this to be the first and last, right, Y/N?" He asks you in a sultry voice.

"No, sir." You let out making the teacher smirk in success. You pass out in his office room and the male lifts you into his arms and puts you down on a bench near his desk where you can rest comfortably.

"Good pet." He laughs softly, before he goes out of his office and moves to his next class.