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lexisecretaccx · 1 month

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A+ Student pt. 1

Other parts on my Masterlist!

(Fem Reader, Both Matt and Chris, they’re both ur teachers, suggestive, set in school, nothing too much yet😉 not proofread so idk if there’s mistakes sorry! everyone is 18+!)

Summary: Y/n is a great student in her college, always getting good grades. Her college professor Matt, thinks she can get even higher ones with some “extra credit.” That is until she meets her new gym teacher..

I hate this lecture, I sit almost at the front and the boys behind me always laugh at me every time I raise my hand or do anything. There’s only three girls in this whole lecture, including me. They’re all friends with eachother but I have nobody in here who likes me.

The only reason I’m not dropping the course is because my teacher, Professor Sturniolo is drop dead gorgeous. I’m not being dramatic, his bright blue eyes, slightly hidden behind the glasses he keeps rested on his nose. His sharp cheekbones, the jawline which is sometimes prickled with stubble. His hair is a dark brown colour, slightly curly sometimes, depends if it’s been raining or not.

He wear either these button up shirts, the first 3 buttons undone and a vest underneath or tight shirts, long sleeved, short sleeved. You name it. He always pairs the outfit with a silver chain dangling from around his neck. To say he is hot is an understatement.

The main reason I like him, (except his perfect features.) is the fact that he listens to what I have to say, I think I’m the only one who takes this course seriously. I understand English is a pretty boring subject to some but I enjoy it.

“She’s not listening to the lecture for once.” I hear one of the boys whisper behind me, I turn slightly and look at them through the corner of my eye. Professor Sturniolo was slightly late today so some other teacher came in to teach while we waited for him, I just can’t focus if he’s not the one teaching me.

All of a sudden the door flies open, “sorry guys I had a flat tire.” He spoke breathlessly as he walked over to the desk, the stand in teacher says his goodbyes and walking out the class. His hair is messy from the wind and it’s slightly wet due to the rain, his button up shirt fully unbuttoned, revealing the white vest underneath, and the chain in the same place as usual.

His sleeves are rolled up slightly revealing the tattoos on his arm. “Where did Professor Michaels get up to in the book?” He asks the class, everyone shrugs and he looks to me, “y/n?” He asks me and I break out of my daydream, “hm?” I say. He chuckles softly, “where did he get to in the book? What page?” He repeats himself.

I wasn’t paying attention to anything he had said, I was too deep in thought. “Oh, I wasn’t paying attention to him sorry.” I awkwardly laugh, luckily he laughed too, “that’s not like you at all,” he smiles, “but thanks for the honesty.” He nods, “you know what, there’s only 20 minutes left so just reread over notes or something. But first did you all do your homework?” Groans and sighs come from the class behind me, signalling that they didn’t.

“Come on guys it’s easy work I’m setting! Ok who has done it?” I raise my hand, his eyes flick to me quickly and I notice the corner of his mouth raise, two other boys raise their hands. He looks at them and his eyebrows raise before he smiles at the boys.

He walks up the lecture room steps slightly and picks up my homework from infront of me, he looks down at me and smiles, he briefly rests his hand on my shoulder slightly. “Good girl.” He whispers before patting my shoulder and walking up to the boys to collect theirs.

Butterfly’s erupt in my stomach from his words, he called me a good girl, that shouldn’t have caused me to subconsciously squeeze my thighs together. I stop myself and swallow harshly to try and brush off my reaction.

He walks back down to his desk and sets the small amount of homework down infront of him to mark. I pull out my notebook to check my notes and I look at him marking the homework, he’s smiling contently and his hand is gripping the pen gently, with the other hand his ring covered fingers flip over the page.

He looks up at me and nods at me before looking back down at the homework. The end of the lecture closes in as we only have 5 minutes left, he walks up to my desk and places my homework down infront of me, 99% is written at the top with a little smiley face next to it, I chuckle softly.

I flip over the page and there’s something written in the corner, speak to me after class, you aren’t in trouble. I look at it with confusion, “what the fuck I got 12%? I actually studied a bit for this stupid homework.” I hear one of the boys yell, “fuck this class man.” He adds. “If I didn’t have something to do after this lecture I’d tell you to stay behind, watch your mouth kid.” Professor Sturniolo spoke through gritted teeth.

What does he have to do? He told me to stay behind after class, but I’m not in trouble so what could it be?

The bell rings and everyone starts packing away and leaving.. except me, I neaten my notes since they’re scattered on the desk infront of me and I stay seated. After everyone left, Professor Sturniolo walked up to my desk and grabbed the chair from the desk infront and sat on it backwards, resting his arms on the bit where you usually lean your back on.

“I know I’m not in trouble but why am I staying behind?” I nervously ask him, fidgeting with my nails. “You’re a great student, probably the best in my class y/n,” he starts to say, smiling softly. “I was wondering if you would help Thomas in some of the lessons. If he doesn’t pass this semester he’ll have to be dropped from the school.”

“Thomas? The quiet kid? I didn’t know he was failing this class.” I reply, “but I’ll help him in the lectures, he can come sit by me.” I smile back at him, “thank you, that’s not the only reason I wanted you to stay behind though.” He smirks slightly.

“Oh? What’s up Profe-” he shushes me, “Call me Matt, Professor Sturniolo is too formal.” He chuckles, I nod before also laughing. “Okay, Matt.. why do you want me to stay here?” I ask, leaning my cheek on my hand.

He swallows nervously and looks at the clock on the wall, “you got flustered.” He spoke. I tilt my head in confusion until I realise what he’s talking about and my cheeks flush red. “Uh..” I stutter. “It’s ok.” He nods at me smirking, I feel his hand on my knee from the other side of the desk. My leg tenses up by the sudden touch.

“I said what I said y/n, you are a good girl. You always listen and answer questions the others fail to answer, and you always pay attention to me.” I feel a shift in the air as a tension builds around us, I nod softly. “Thank you.” I speak, not knowing what to say entirely.

He chuckles, “your overall grade for this semester is gonna be an A.. don’t tell the other students I told you yours yet.. ok?” He leans in and looks into my eyes with a stare I don’t recognise. The sexual tension grows, “why an A? I thought I was A+ grade? I was last semester.” I say confused. “You just haven’t done as well as last semester, you’ve still done so well and I’m proud but you could improve.” He smiles.

“I’m really trying my hardest I don’t think I can improve, what could I do to bump my grade up just slightly, like extra credit?” I ask in a needy tone, I need to get an A+ I promised my mom I’d get all A+ in English since she knows I’m great at it.

“What are you willing to do?” He asks, this time in a lower tone and he leans in slightly. “Anything!” I nod, “I really need an A+ I promised my mom I would.” I lean in and smile innocently. “You’d do anything?” Matts eyes flick to my mouth and back up to my eyes.

The realisation hits me and I lean back quickly, not realising how close we actually got. I look at him with an eyebrow raised slightly, “were you implying that..” I breathe in nervously. “That I..” I stutter. “Hey y/n calm down it’s ok.” He grabs my hand and nods reassuringly. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable I thought that it was something you would want.. I know it’s wrong I’m sorry.” He studies my face.

I want to kiss him and touch him in places others haven’t even seen, but it’s wrong. He’s my professor, yes it’s wrong but not illegal. I’m 18. “I do want it.” I whisper, looking down at my lap. He lifts my chin with his finger, “do you?” He smirks, standing up from his seated position.

I nod, “yes.” I smile up at him. “Good girl.” He whispers, walking around to the side of my seat, “the next lecture is starting soon, but take this.” He grabs my pen from the desk and starts to scribble on a spare piece of paper. I look down at it to see he’s writing his number. After he wrote that he added, Text me :)

He pats my shoulder and starts to walk to the front of the class, I pack away my stuff, making sure to keep the little note safe. I can’t believe that something I’d been fantasising about is actually happening? I can’t let anyone know no matter how much I want to.

I walk down to the front of the class, giving a flirty wave to Professor Sturniolo before leaving the classroom. I pull out my phone and add in the number to a contact, “Matt” I named it. My next class is gym class. They always make us do gym with a male teacher, but today we have a new one apparently. “I’m telling you him and Professor Sturniolo are identical!” A boy says to his friend as he walks out of the gym class.

Identical? I remember Matt mentioning to the class that he’s a triplet but I didn’t know one of them was a teacher too. I walk into the locker room and change into my vest and very short booty shorts. It’s the only shorts I like and I haven’t been dresscoded for them, even though my ass is practically on show.

I walk into the gym class and sit down on the bench next to my only real friend, Lizzy. “Hey you okay?” She asks me as I walk over, “yeah why!” I say happily. “You just actually seem happy for once it’s strange but it’s also good!” She smiles at me. “Do you find Professor Sturniolo attractive?” I ask her randomly, I just wanna know if I’m the only one who’s so besotted with him.

“Meh, I don’t have him as a teacher, some girls like him but I don’t, he’s not my type though.” She shrugs, “who is your type?” I ask her, she shrugs again, “I don’t know but I just don’t find him hot.” She swallows harshly. My attention gets taken from her as the new teacher walks in.

He’s identical to Matt, but there’s a difference between them, this guy doesn’t have glasses or stubble. He scans the room, most the girls aren’t in gym class today I don’t know why. “Small class huh?” He chuckles, “it’s usually bigger some people just aren’t present.” I speak up. He instantly turns his head to face me.

We make eye contact, butterflies fill my stomach, he does look like Matt that’s why. “Oh okay thanks.” He smiles at me, “gather around y’all.” He calls to the class and we all oblige. “We’re gonna be doing dodgeball today, something simple.” He nods and again his eyes lock with mine briefly.

He clears his throat before we set up the two zones, it starts, me and Lizzy are on the same side. Mr Sturniolo starts to throw the dodgeballs to us, “what’s the betting she’s gonna be an A+ student in this class aswell.” A girl on my side whispers to her friend, “I think she fucks the teachers to get those grades!” The other one replies, they both laugh but I brush it off. As I’m throwing the dodgeballs at the other team one of the girls snatches the dodgeball out of my hand.

“Fuck off.” I say to her, “so scary..” She laughs back. I pick up a dodgeball and launch it at her, it smacks right into her nose and she falls to the ground. “Oh my god you bitch!” Her friend spoke to me.

“I’m sorry I didn’t expect it to hit her face!” I reply back, “Sir!” Her friend calls over Mr Sturniolo, I step back slightly and bump into someone, he turns me around by my shoulders and looks down at me. I had just walked back into Mr Sturniolo, “sorry.” I whisper, he pats my shoulders and let’s go of them, just how Matt does.

“What’s happened?” He looks down to Rachel lying on the ground holding her nose, “Rachel was be-” I go to speak but am cut off by her friend “y/n launched the dodgeball at Rachel’s face for no reason! She’s not even on the opposing team!” Her friend Jess leans down and helps Rachel up. “Take her to the nurse or something.” He spoke to Jess before shrugging. “I’ll talk with you after class okay?” He nodded to me.

I sigh, “okay.” I continue the game, less enthusiastic this time. The bell rings and we all go into the locker room to change back into our clothes, “I’ll talk to you later yeah?” Lizzy says to me and I nod, grabbing my bag and heading back into the gym class.

He’s sat on the bench on his phone, “hey Mr Sturniolo.” I say, his head flicks up to me and he smiles, putting his phone down next to him. “Call me Chris, please.” He pats the bench next to him for me to sit.

I sit down, “I’m sorry, she was being rude to me and assuming stuff, and I got mad I shouldn’t have done that.” I say sighing. “It’s okay, I heard her. She’s a bit dramatic if you ask me.” He laughs, “she’s taking the drama course I think.” I also laugh.

“I’m glad you actually understand and are apologetic for what you did though..” He smiles at me, I smile back and nod, our attention is drawn to the doors of the gym as they open and Matt walks through them, “Chris, Nick was wondering if you wanted to-” he pauses as he notices me sat there too.

“Hey..” he smiles at me, “hi.” I look at him and back at Chris, taking in their similarities but also their differences.

Chris pats my knee before standing up and walking to Matt, “one sec.” He whispers, smiling down at me. I see them talking but can’t hear. They laugh slightly before I make eye contact with Matt, my stomach filling with butterflies once more. “See you tomorrow or something y/n!” He calls to me and as Chris turns Matt does a slight wink, causing me to squeeze my thighs together lightly before relaxing them.

“Sorry for that interruption..” Chris laughs, “brothers am I right? Unless you don’t have any I’m not sure.” He slows down his sentence, I shrug. “I don’t have brothers, I had a step brother but his mom broke up with my dad, he’s a year younger than me so he really bugged me.” I chuckled lightly. “Matt said you’re a great student.” Chris spoke after a few seconds of silence.

“Yeah I’m pretty good at some subjects, depends on who’s teaching me and if I find the subject interesting.” I smile at him, “well hopefully you get good grades in this class, if not there’s ways you can get higher grades anyway.” He smirks before standing up. “I gotta set up for the next class but feel free to stay if you want, it’s lunch now isn’t it?” He asks me, and I nod “I gotta get going to meet Lizzy but I’ll see you next lesson.” I smile and he nods back.

As I walk out the class I think to myself, what could he have meant by ‘ways for me to get higher grades anyway’? Was he implying a similar thing to what Matt was? I don’t know but I’m intrigued to find out more..

A/n: how is everyone liking the start for this series, I haven’t done a love triangle fic or series before so I hope it’s gonna be good for u!! I am sorry but idk if I’m gonna finish the Mine series rn bc I do wanna focus on this one more but my posting schedule is fucked bc I’m so busy w revision and stuff but I’ll try and post as frequently as I can!!

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#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #sturniolo #chris sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolos #smut #chris sturniolo fanfic #matt

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uhmprobablynot · 1 year

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HEAR ME OUT jock/bully!schlatt x nerd!reader 🤭

The way your brain works? Literal chefs kiss. I have a part two in the works that adds a bit but I didn’t want this to be too long. Let me know if you want the part about the game, and maybe some,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, other things :)

Part One > Part Two > Part Three

He is so mean.

You watch him laugh in the middle of the student center with other members of his baseball team. Knowing Schlatt, he was probably bragging about a girl that was fawning over him like everyone seemed to do. You pretend not to understand why girls seem to throw themselves at him but his toned legs, tanned skin, and big stature that followed being a student athlete solved the mystery rather quickly. But he is so mean.

Last semester when you were forced by your computer science professor to sit next to Schlatt, he used every chance to prove that. From constantly berating your programming work, making fun of you for minor missed calculations, to making you feel stupid for just not understanding some of the material. You were thankful that the class was finally over when December came around, hoping that you would never be subjected to that again.

Then January came and so did your American History course. When you walked through the classroom doors you almost turned right back around when you saw him already lounging at one of the tables. Legs wide and his arms back behind his head. Instead, you only cursed and sat at a table away from him. He smirked and moved to your table.

“Aw y/n, how come you didn’t sit next to me this time?” He asked. You only glared at him and pulled out your notebook and laptop. Hopeful that your silence would make him move, but he stayed right next to you. The first week of that class passed by the same way as last semesters did. Schlatt insulting you or taking your notebook when you weren't looking. When the first test came around Schlatt taunted you.

“Careful that you don’t fail this one too, we both know your testing average.” Schlatt smirked to himself as he saw you take a steadying breath.

The next class meeting the professor passed the tests back out. You beamed as you saw the 97 in red ink at the top of the paper, but you also saw the 53 at the top of Schlatt’s. You did your best not to smirk, good riddance, you thought to your self.

Weeks passed just like that, Schlatt making passes at your intelligence. Yet, each week you watched as his grades stayed around the 50-70 percent mark. The scores only dropped lower once baseball started, and so did his comments about your intelligence. Instead his comments focused on things that were harder to just ignore.

The professor was talking about Chicago’s ugly law in 1881 and Schlatt smirked and leaned over to you.

“Looks like you wouldn’t have been able to leave the house in Chicago.” You felt your stomach twist. You were used to his comments but that one just hit harder than you were expecting. Nodding you felt tears in your eyes as you just focused back on the board in front of you. “Oh come on,” He poked your side and slowly his smirk shrank as he realized you weren’t backing down this time.

As class was dismissed the professor called for both you and Schlatt to stay. You half wanted Schlatt to be chewed out because she had heard his comment to you, the other half just wanted to forget that it ever happened.

“I asked the both of you to stay because I got this email this morning.” She pulled up an email to the big screen from Schlatt’s baseball coach. You didn’t read the whole thing but one point did stick out. If he can’t pass, he can’t play. Schlatt tensed up as he also read that part of the email.

“Professor-” “Mr. Schlatt please let me.” The professor turned off the board and looked at the both of you. “I hoped that you sitting next to y/n would remedy your grade in my class, but it has not.” The professor took a breath. “I cannot offer too much extra credit as I have more then enough to grade now, but I will offer one project grade and advise to study and do my work.”

Schlatt takes a deep breath and thanks the professor. You shifted in your seat nervous and confused as to why you were here. “Y/n, I wanted you here because you are my best student, I was hoping that you would be willing to form a study group or help Mr. Schlatt.” You begin to shake your head, his previous words echoing in your head. “If you do more than five hours of it, I will exempt you from the final, if you wish.” It’s your turn to take a deep breath. You look towards Schlatt but he was already looking at you, some kind of pleading look in his eye, so you agree.

The professor thanks and dismisses the both of you. The second he can Schlatt is up and out of his chair moving towards the door.

“I have an hour before practice every day, at three. I’ll be in the library.” Then he leaves.

The rest of that day goes by in a blur, the next time your brain kicks back in you're walking into the library. You see Schlatt already sitting at a table with his laptop out.

You slide into the seat across from him and he looks up at you. You pull out your own laptop and pull up your notes for the class.

“Did the professor let you know about that project?” Schlatt nodds and turns his screen to you.

It’s a minor presentation and paper about how a topic of his choice has made a lasting impression on american culture. You nodd as you process the information.

“No -I don't have any ideas yet.”

“Okay,” you both sit in silence for a minute. The project was due before the final, so Schlatt had a good month to work on it. “We have a test on Friday, do you want to work on that some?” Schlatt only shrugs and you slowly start.

“Why is, what do, why-” You struggled asking. He smirked at your struggle before remembering he was using his mean face right now. “Why do you think you are struggling so much?” You whisper. Schlatt straightens in his seat.

“I just forget what we learn in class,” He clears his throat. “I zone out a lot.”

You smile to yourself, “Baseball that mind consuming?” He stares at you and thinks about your words before chuckling lightly.

“Yeah, something like that.”

The tension between you two lightens after that. You walk him through todays lesson. And work backwards. About 45 minutes later your phone starts buzzing with a silent alarm. Schlatt chuckles.

“So eager to get rid of me you set a timer, impressive.” You smiled but shook your head.

“No, I know the field is a good five minute walk so I wanted to make sure you had enough time, I don’t know how harsh your coach is.” He seems taken aback by the fact. He smiles lightly and packs his things. You just watch him. Watching has his biceps move and how his muscles shift as his moves.

“Here,” He reaches out towards you with twenty dollar bill. You watch him confused.

“I don’t want that.”

“And I don’t care, dumbass take it.” You only shake your head and begin to pack up your things. He sighs. “Fine, I’ll see you tomorrow, idiot.”

The next few days pass like that. You meet at the library at three, the both of you study and work on his project.

“Are you ready for the test tomorrow?” You ask him as he starts packing up for practice. He nods.

“The professor is going to make my grade viewable right away so I know.” Schlatt looks nervous. “I really hope I do well, I love playing, I want to play.” You stand up with him and touch his arm.

“I believe in you man, you got this!” He stares at the hand on his arm for a second, hesitating before brushing it off him. He flashes you a smile.

“Well if I don’t, we know who to blame, yeah?” Schlatt patts your head before moving around you and leaving the library.

The test was easy to you. Studying with Schlatt keeping you extra prepared with the information. You leave as you finish the test, casting Schlatt a confident glance as you leave. A silent, you got this, that you hope he hears.

As you exist the classroom you look at the benches lining the wall outside the classroom, and you decide to wait for Schlatt.

He finally exits the classroom and you stand instantly. He spots you just as quickly.

“You didn't leave?”

“No, I wanted to check in with you when you finished.” Schlatt smirks at your confession.

“Well,” he says letting the anticipation build. “I got a 95!”

“Hell yeah,” you yell. “That means you can play right?” Schlatt nods. “At least tomorrow.” You beam at him, happy that the time has been paying off. “Speaking of," He stops for a second. "Do you want to come watch tomorrow?”

His question catches you off guard. He went from barely putting up with you to asking you to see him play within a week? Schlatt sees the hesitation on your face and retreads. “You don’t have to it’s okay-” “I’d love to,” You interrupt. “When is it?” Schlatt’s smile is blinding.

“It starts at four,” He takes his backpack off and reaches for something. “Take this and wear it. I’ll let the ticket people know your name that way you get into the,” he hesitates slightly. “The team’s section right near the dugout.” You take the shirt he hands you. “I have class but, I’ll see you tomorrow yeah?” You nod and clutch the shirt to your chest. Schlatt smiles again before leaving the building. You look down at the shirt he gave you. The schools baseball jersey. You flip it over curiously and across the back is Schlatt and a big 14, which you only assume is his number. You laugh to your self, he gave you his jersey.

#jschlatt x reader #jschlatt x y/n #jschlatt #schlatt #schlatt smut #let me know if you want the other part to this that would contain some spice to it #I really just didn't want this to be annoying-ly long #ily'all #That's all folks - I have spoken

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pseudosis · 2 months

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ᴥ 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐀 | plug!jet x reader {teaser}

ᴥwarning(s): reader calls jet “jee” , jet calls reader “kid” , drugs , mentions of death/violence , minor ocs

“I don’t like my money being fucked with kid…”

“Jee hush, I’m a little behind on bills right now. You’ll get your last sixty next week sometime.”

New york’s opening year climate had your hands all clammy, wrapping up in various layers of winter clothes somehow couldn’t stop the frigid whoops of air snaking their way to your body. Grip wavering visibly, trying to flip through your wallet of fresh cash and pull out a sum of money just short of sixty dollars to Jee. One thing about him is that he didn’t really like the whole ‘i’ll pay the rest later’ excuse, his policy is you either pay it or go home with nothing. Years of being a dealer had his paranoia constantly on a high most failed to understand.

Yet he found himself remorseful towards you, the both of you knowing each other since grade school, always making your payments on time. It wasn’t like you were the kind to grab and run from him anyway, an excuse this time would be tolerated by his rare patience. As soon as the paper made it into his expectant open palm, he balled it up, and replaced your empty hand with a solid pound of green in a plastic baggie.

“We hotboxing tonight or you going home?”

“Gotta go home, got work tomorrow.”

The discipline of a real job was a foreign idea to Jee, constantly running through streets for as long as he could remember. His longest ever consistent job was selling drugs. Never holding down a real home either, just constantly on the move. He says this business gets demanding like a normal job, seeing the bulge of a loaded pistol tucked into his waistband under his oversized hoodie.

“How Brooklyn been treating you Jee?”

Moving from Pasadena just a week ago had him new to the whole environment that made up the east coast, “Everything up here so damn expensive, but I’m coming from Pasadena, so it ain’t nothing I’m not used to. I hate the cold, but the rest of my group is up here so…”

He never looked at you, staring off into the distance in the park that was gradually collecting snow. Bare hands going a mild red from the dropped temperatures, then being shoved into his hoodie pockets. Kicking an accumulating pile of snow out of sheepishness during the silence between words, you decided to say something since you wanted to talk before heading off back home.

“I’m sorry about what happened to Chico…have you been at least doing well after his funeral?”

Jee said nothing for a long moment, face going unreadable and eyebrows hunching slightly together as he was seemingly thinking. Maybe bringing up a sensitive subject like that wasn’t the best social move you could’ve made, but that was your friend, and Chico happened to be his best friend as well. They were like brothers as close as they were, only to lose the man in a gunfight back when he was in Cali.

“…it’s been cool, you know. Things ain’t been ideal but shit happens, that’s life.”

As nonchalant about it as he wanted to be, you could sense his grief through his numb attitude. Eyebrows relaxing and his vision jolted to the ground, a moment before hearing the ding of his phone which softened the solemn energy around you two. Fishing the device out of his pocket, he checked the notification from some other buyer ready to purchase their products from him.

“Alright kid, see you around, don’t forget my damn sixty. I’ll blow your head off if you do.” Jee playfully hit your arm, a gesture native to the friendly relationship you two had for years now. Smacking the back of his head and laughing before you two parted off, returning to the very different lives the both of you lived.

#{✩*ೃ.⋆𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐬🎀}#avatar the last airbender #atla jet #sebastian amoruso #adult jet #jet x reader #jet smut #jet avatar #jet atla #avatar live action #atla live action #a:tla netflix #atla netflix #netflix avatar

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so-long-soldier-writes · 2 months

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Study Buddies

isaac lahey x reader

summary: isaac asks you for help in chemistry. you agree on one condition.

tags: high school, studying / tutoring, mutual crushes, awkward flirting, caught in a lie, shyness, embarrassment, play fighting / tickling, bad puns, confessions, first kiss, teasing, fluff, pre-wolf isaac; his dad still sucks; autistic-coded reader

word count: 4.5k

a/n: this is my first time writing for teen wolf. I feel like I'm encroaching on claimed territory. 😅 also i've had this tab up for almost a week but have been afraid to post it, so here goes

Mr. Harris slides your progress report down onto your desk before you have a chance to react, and it catches wind and falls to the ground a moment later. You sigh and roll your eyes, but he’s already halfway across the room, impatiently handing out the rest of his stack. Your own little slip of paper is nowhere by your feet, and you resist the urge to make a remark about it.

“Hey.” A voice interrupts your intruding thoughts at the same time a tap lands on your shoulder. Gentle, as if the tapper hates to disturb you, yet needs your attention.

You turn, and temporarily forget about your lost report as your eyes meet Isaac’s, the boy who sits behind you, and has the cutest smile imaginable. You drop your gaze instantly, only for it to fall on his dimpled smile, and then, finally, on the paper held between two fingers.

“I think this is yours,” he says, holding it out to you.

Your name is clearly printed on the front, followed by your most recent grades in the class. You blush, immediately remembering it had dropped in the first place.

“Oh. Thank you.”

“No problem. He seems like he’s in a mood today.”

You nod, then take your paper from his hand. By this time, Harris has made his way back to the front, and is clearing his throat in a demand for the class’ silence. Quiet mutterings amongst friends cease at once, and you turn back to face the ill-tempered chemistry teacher.

“Take a good look at your progress reports. The midterm is coming up, and some of you have more studying to do than others. Today, we will be learning new material, but next class period, we will have a review day. If you have any questions, do not hesitate to ask. You can ask at the appropriate time in class, or come see me after school, or shoot me an email. Regardless of your grade, everyone should be studying, however, some of you have to move up a whole letter or two. That is on you to be aware of, and for you to put in the effort to do. Now, pull out your notes so that we can cover this section. It isn’t the hardest thing we’ll cover, but I expect it will be a struggle for some.”

And after that condescending introduction, he begins to teach.

When the bell finally rings, your head is swarming with so much chemistry, your eyes are beginning to glaze over and put you to sleep. You’re relatively good at the subject, but that topic was more challenging than he warned it would be, making even you confused at times. You shake your head when you reach your lockers, trying to relieve yourself of the numbers swirling about in your mind. It takes a moment. A very stressful moment.

A tap on your shoulder, more urgent than the last, pulls you out of your mental headspace. The chemistry bounces out of your mind entirely, bringing you back to reality, but making you jump in place at the sudden contact.

“Sorry,” a familiar voice apologies, “didn’t mean to scare you.”

Turning, you come face-to-face with Isaac again. His normally bright blue eyes are slightly cloudy, which worries you more than you’d like to admit. “No worries. Everything okay?”

“Yeah. I have a question, actually, to ask you.”

“What’s that?”

“Okay, I wasn’t looking at your report, I didn’t mean to see your grades. I accidentally saw them when I picked up your paper, but I promise I wasn’t looking on purpose.” He stalls, continuously apologizing for something not at any fault of his own.

“It’s okay,” you interrupt as politely as you can.

He pauses, “um. I was wondering if you could help me? Like, in chemistry. Help me study, kinda like a tutor, I guess?”

You pale immediately. Just because you’re doing okay in the class doesn’t mean you have a clue how to help him understand. “Um-”

“Just… I just need a little help, if you can. I understand if you don’t want to, or can’t, or… I don’t know… are busy.” He runs his tongue along his lips nervously. You snap your eyes to the floor, avoiding eye contact.

“I don’t know… I’m not a good teacher.”

“But you’re really good in the class. Probably a better teacher than Harris has been lately.”

You chuckle, but you’re still not sure. Being that close to the boy you’ve liked for ages? On top of not being able to teach well? He’ll reduce you to a stupid, stuttering mess, just look at yourself now, unable to look him in the eye. No, don’t look at him, that was rhetorical.

“I just,” he continues, “when he was talking about people who needed to go up a whole letter, he was talking about me. I know you’re good, you sit in front of me. If you can even just explain it to me as you study, it would help a lot.”

Half of your mind races to find an excuse, looking for an out, while the other begs you to agree. Isaac shoves a hand in his pocket and waits for a response. You debate with yourself for a moment, but then the urging part of your mind wins the argument with a question of its own.

“What about this,” you start, “I’ll help you in chemistry, if you help me in French?”

“What?” He asks, taken off guard. “I’m not good at French.”

“You’re better than me. You have the answers to most of Ms. Morrell’s questions, and I can hear you when she asks us to recite words out loud.” His eyes narrow at that, to which you reply, “you sit behind me in French, too.”

“Right.” He smiles, but doesn’t meet your gaze. Instead, he rests his head against the locker beside yours.

“So?”

“How do you know I’m not just guessing?”

“What’s your grade?”

“A,” he sheepishly answers.

“See? You can tutor me.”

“What’s your grade?”

You purse your lips and avoid his eyes again. “Too embarrassed to say.”

“Really?”

“Languages aren’t my strong suit. We all have our strengths.”

“Alright, deal. Help me in chem, and I’ll help you with French.”

“Sounds good. Library, or at one of our houses?”

“I can probably go to the library sometimes. Maybe during lunch or free period. But after school, I have lacrosse, and you probably don’t want to wait around school for that to be over.”

“Okay, so then your house or mine?”

“Where do you live?”

“Like ten minutes from here. You?”

“A bit closer than that. Parents?”

“Don’t really care what I do.”

“My dad is a little controlling,” he admits.

“Would he care if I were to come over?”

“Not if you’re helping me study.”

“Okay. You want to meet a couple times a week at your house, and sometimes during lunch?”

“Sure. Practice ends around five. Is seven too late?”

“Not for me.”

“Cool. So, um, I’ll text you, and we can plan dates.” He shakes his head. “I mean, like, what days work best.”

You blush at his embarrassment. “Have to give you my number first, doofus.”

“Oh.”

You scribble it onto a sticky note and hand it to him. “Let me know.”

“I will. And thank you.”

“Thank you, too.” You hurry your way to your next class, leaving him red in the face and hands at having a girl’s number. Granted, it’s just for studying, but it’s the fact he was able to talk to you at all that has him shaken. Isaac forces himself to breathe, before entering it in his phone and tucking the sticky safely in his backpack. As the bell rings, he hurries to his next class.

~~~~

The next evening is the first time you meet up to study. You drive to the address he’s given and knock on the door as gently as possible. Isaac had mentioned his dad is controlling, so the first thing you want to do is to avoid pissing him off in any way you could. Controlling could mean a lot of things, and the boy wasn’t specific at all. For both of your sakes, you tread lightly.

Isaac opens the door a moment later, dressed in a simple t-shirt and sweats. You try really hard not to blush as he invites you inside, but then his dad’s strict voice snaps you back into reality. You can see Isaac take a visible deep breath before rounding the corner in the kitchen, you in tow. You put on your best look of professionalism while trying to anticipate how the next couple of minutes might go.

“And? Who was it?”

“Y/N, the girl I told you I was studying with… with whom I am going to study,” he corrects at the last minute.

His father’s posture tenses a bit less when his son corrects his own grammar without prompt, but it doesn’t stop his cold eyes from floating over to you. “And you’re studying what?”

“Chemistry, sir. I’m helping Isaac, and he’s helping me with French.”

“And you know French well enough to help her?”

“I believe I do,” he says, trying to sound confident.

“I think he does, too. In class, he always has the answers, and Mrs. Morrell’s often impressed, and she’s hard to impress more than once.”

“Hm.” His dad takes a sip from a glass, then carefully sets it down on the table. His eyes are locked on Isaac the whole time. The boy stares at the ground, any confidence shaken by the interaction. You study the scene, confused. “Well… Go study. Bring up those grades.”

“Yes, sir,” you reply at the same time.

Isaac nods for you to follow him to his room, which you oblige. His dad remains seated as you make your way up the stairs. You bite back a comment about the man, even in the safety of Isaac’s bedroom, and he doesn’t say anything, either. The same remark is in both your heads, yet while you want to ask it in a question, he wants to use it as a reassurance. Yes, he’s a bit more controlling than Isaac originally said. No, he won’t do anything stupid while you're there. He tries to convey this in an expression, which you half-understand, but eventually drop it. If anything happens, you’ll leave. Simple as that.

As it turns out, the first night of you studying together ends up nothing like the initial interaction you had in his house. Isaac is gentle, patient, and willing to learn and teach the best that he can. He’s admittedly worse in chemistry than you are in French, but you’re able to convince him that you only need to work on a few things; an hour of time doesn’t have to be devoted to your studies, maybe only twenty minutes. On the contrary, the other sixty are put towards chemistry. And, of course, the first five are for settling in, and the last five are for uncontrollable laughter at a mispronunciation.

Thirty minutes to nine, you realize how late it’s gotten and start to pack your things. Isaac looks exhausted, and frankly, as much as you’re enjoying his company, you’re getting tired from talking.

“Voulez-vous qu’on se rencontre vendredi?” He asks, rather quickly.

You stare for a moment, then, “what?”

“Vendredi.”

“Thursday?”

“Non.”

“Friday?”

“Oui, rencontrer?”

“Meet then?”

“Yeah, would you like to?”

“Sure.” You nod. “Say it again?”

“Voulez-vous qu’on se rencontre vendredi?” He says it slower this time. It has the same effect on you, but you can comprehend each word better.

“Cool,” you say, not at all thinking about his accent that paints the words so beautifully. “I’ll bring my H2O, since I forgot it this time.”

The boy snorts with more laughter. “Bad joke.”

“Absolutely horrible,” you agree. “See you in school tomorrow.”

“Drive safe.”

“Be safe,” you reply before you can stop yourself, referring to his dad downstairs.

Isaac only nods. He walks you to his front door, then hurries back up to his room.

~~~~

Each day you study together follows a similar routine to the first: five minutes to settle in, sixty of chemistry, twenty of French, then five of joking around with each other. Sometimes Isaac pushes for thirty of French instead, worried that you’re sacrificing your own studies for his, and never understands when you push back that you’re good with only twenty.

His chemistry improves immensely with your help. In three weeks, he manages to pull it up to a ‘C’. Not only is his father a bit more lenient to him after the next progress report, but he’s also more pleasant to you the next time you come around to study. He even cracks a smile.

Today, you go over just the same as you have been. Seven on the dot, you’re greeted by his dimpled smile and half-friendly father. The man has now graduated to welcoming you, and has once clapped you on the shoulder as you’ve passed. You’re polite to him, though you can tell Isaac’s uncomfortable with his unusual behavior, so you always try to retreat upstairs as soon as possible. This time, he’s busy with something in the kitchen and doesn’t talk for long. He makes one comment about grades; you promise him you’re both doing well, then he lets you go.

Finally away, it doesn’t take long for you to settle down anymore. You make yourself comfortable on Isaac’s bed, pulling out your notes and pens, and smiling when he joins you. You’ve come to be good friends in the last couple weeks, and although there’s something definitely in the air, too, you’re good with being friends if that’s all you can convince yourselves you are.

You start, per usual, with chemistry, reading over notes and figuring out problems. He moves closer and closer to you each day you teach, simultaneously making you nervous and excited. Either way, your water bottle remains beside you to calm your ever-growing heart rate. When it comes time to switch subjects, you excuse yourself a minute to recover and prepare for the next half hour. In the beginning, it was easier to hide your blush, promising you’re still getting the hang of the co-teaching thing. Now, your excuse dwindles. The shy smile you wear as he recites words of the love language has never faded. You have to compose yourself entirely, elsewhere, to be able to control your reaction and face him.

“Can I use your bathroom real quick?”

“Yeah, just over there.”

“Thanks.”

As soon as the door shuts, Isaac jumps off the bed to check his hair in the mirror. In the process, your French binder falls to the ground and loses its page. The boy sighs, mutters an ‘oh shit,’ then pulls it back up to find the page again. He opens the flap and immediately finds a stash of old progress reports. You seem to keep all of your old ones in the front flap of your binder; he’s noticed you have all your chemistry reports, too. Curious, Isaac steals a peek. Despite confessing about his ‘D’ in chemistry, you’ve always cheekily refused to share your French grade. He doubts it’s that bad, but he’s never gotten you to admit it.

He glances at the bathroom door, then checks the date on the report before scanning the grades. Guilt eats at him the longer he looks, but nosiness, then confusion keeps his eyes glued. Is he really reading that right? There’s no way you have a-

“Sorry about that,” you say, closing the door.

Startled, he drops your binder and looks up at you. “It’s no worry.”

“What’s wrong?” You notice his change in behavior, like a young boy being caught doing something he shouldn’t be doing.

“Nothing. Your binder fell off the bed, I was picking it up.”

“Oh. Thanks.” He smiles when you join him back on the bed. You’re not sure if you still have a right to be suspicious, or if he’s just embarrassed because he’s so shy. “So, um-”

Isaac, on the other hand, is brimming with questions. As anxious as he is that you caught him peeking, he can’t help but wonder about what he saw. You start to speak, maybe to change the subject, but he cuts you off, guilt and curiosity both winning. “You have an ‘A’ in French?”

“What?”

“You’ve had an ‘A’ since the start of the year. Why do you need me to tutor you if you already know it?”

You shut your open mouth immediately, face paling at the realization you’ve been caught. “I-... I don’t know. Your grades are better than mine.”

“By one point.”

“Two points. You have a 94. I have a 92.”

“Doesn’t explain the need for a tutor,” he argues.

You study him, choosing to base your reaction off his own. He’s smiling; seemingly happy, curious, and not at all upset. His tone implies no accusation, just confusion, and his body posture is straight, shoulders relaxed. A twinkle shines in his baby blue eyes; his level of eye contact is neither constant nor avoidant. He’s safe.

“I, um,” you decide to tell him the truth. Or, rather, stutter out the truth. “I don’t need a French tutor.”

“So I’ve gathered.” Decisive tone, yet still friendly. Still safe.

“I figured, since I would help you with chemistry, even though I’m not that good of a teacher, if you had to teach me something too, it would put less pressure on me to be a good teacher.”

His eyes narrow. “Okay… but why French?” He’s still a little confused on that reasoning, but doesn’t question it. He knows you’re shy. If that’s what you had to do to make it work that you could help him, he doesn’t mind.

“I, er, well, the French provided a win-win scenario.”

“Which is?”

You shrug, body warming quickly as you near your deeply guarded secret. “I- I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Mhm, really?”

“You’re best in French,” you offer instead, on a whim.

“True,” he agrees, “though I feel that’s not the real reason, judging by your lack of eye contact.”

“I’m always bad at eye contact.”

“You’ve been getting better with me these last few weeks.”

“Yes, but…”

“I’m not going to judge, Y/N. Whatever you say, it’s safe with me. You trust me, right?”

“Of course.”

“Then how is me teaching you French a, as you call it, win-win scenario?”

Finally, you fess, “because I get to hear you speak it every time you teach me.”

Isaac’s quiet for a moment. Then, you realize it seems to have gone over his head as he says, “you hear me speak all the time in class.”

“Yeah, but… with twenty other voices mixed in, too. I like hearing just your voice. The way you know just how to sound it out perfectly, and the way your accent flourishes each sentence. Most people in class sound like they’re gurgling saltwater, but you make it sound hot, like the way French is supposed to sound.” Your mouth utters words before your brain can catch up and prevent you from embarrassment. As soon as you realize what you’ve said, a dizziness swarms your head and it feels like the temperature’s gone up ten degrees.

Isaac is speechless in front of you. He’s first stuck on the fact that you like his voice, then on his pronunciation being described as perfect, but then he short-circuits as the word ‘hot’ falls from your lips. He doesn’t even realize when you plant your face into your binder, shocked by your own confession.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize. It’s muffled, but he hears it enough to pull him from his trance.

“You like my voice?” He asks, cursing himself for the stupidity of the question. It’s all he can think of to say, though, still trying to cool his own rising body temperature.

“I shouldn’t have said all that, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I wasn’t thinking.”

“I’m not uncomfortable,” he blurts out quickly. “I’m actually quite charmed by that.”

You resist the urge to look up at him, desperate to see if he’s smiling or not. Isaac seems to have a similar thought, and tries to hook a finger under your chin to lift your head. He succeeds, but then you instantly embarrass again, and dive for the pillows, burying your face amongst them.

“Oh no, get back here,” he jokes. You feel him before you look out to see him. His hands shake your shoulder, but when you don’t respond, he playfully starts to tickle your neck. You scrunch and try to scramble away, but he only continues. “C’mon.”

“I can’t!” The words have finally sunken into his head; the weight of them falls on your chest.

“Oh, yes you can!” He teases more, moving pillows away from you, just for you to grab another and bury back under it. When Isaac realizes there’s no use in trying to win the pillow war, he swings a leg over yours and begins to tickle your stomach. Your shirt has begun to ride up from your movement, and temporarily, he forgets you’re classmates, not longtime best friends. “C’mon, give it up!”

“I-I can’t!” You’re running out of breath, and pillows. He pulls another away from you, then puts his hands back on your sides. Your eyes are squeezed shut, but only do you open them because of the unfamiliar feeling of him touching you. A beat skips in your heart at the sudden, unexpected realization that he’s not only touching your skin, but he’s also straddling your waist. You swallow hard. He pinches your side lightly, shocking you back into reality, and making you grab another pillow to hide your face again. Before you can grasp it, Isaac grabs your hands and pins them above your head. You pant, heart racing a mile a minute. His too, as you can hear in the moment you both grow quiet.

“You think it’s hot when I speak French?”

“No, I think you’re hot when you speak French. There’s a difference.”

“Is there now?”

“The temperature of the room doesn’t get hot, it’s you that gets hot.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Not that you’re not always hot… I mean, sometimes, you’re more like a cute little puppy than a hot, French-speaking…” your words fade as your brain catches up, faster this time, yet still not fast enough.

“Am I now?”

What’s done is done, you figure. Can’t take it back now, can only admit it. “Yeah.”

“Huh. So all this time, you’ve been teaching me chemistry, and I’ve been talking pointlessly while you listen and learn nothing?”

“When you word it like that, it sounds bad.” A pout graces your lips as guilt floods you. “But I have learned some things. I was struggling with direct objects, and now I’m not.”

“Ah. So I’m not totally useless?”

“Never. You wouldn’t be useless even if I knew perfect French.” Before he can reply, you continue. “I’m sorry I wasted your time. I shouldn’t have. Can you forgive me?”

“Forgive you for what? You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“I wasted your time when we could’ve been doing more chemistry.”

“Darling, too much chemistry and my brain woulda exploded. The French lessons are a nice intermission. Besides, I wouldn’t consider any time with you as time wasted.”

“Really?”

He drops your hands and they fall back down to your waist. He seems, then, to realize he’s still on top of you, and begins to climb off. “Sorry, I-”

“Don’t.”

“What?”

“Can I confess something else?”

He pauses. “Sure, anything.”

“I would’ve been okay with just tutoring you chemistry, but I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to look you in the eye long enough to do it well.”

“You’ve been doing great with the eye contact thing. I know it’s not your strong suit, but you’ve made a lot of progress these last couple weeks.”

“Thank you,” you smile. “It’s not only that.” A heartbeat passes. “I like you.”

“You like me?” His eyes narrow before he assumes only, “you like my voice.”

“No, I like you. I mean, yes, I like your voice, but I like it because I like you.”

“Like me, as in…”

“Like I have a crush on you.”

He tilts his head like a confused dog. “On me?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Why do you seem so surprised?”

“I’ve never had anyone have a crush on me before,” he admits.

Now you’re confused. “What?! How?!”

“I don’t know!”

“That’s stupid. Never had anyone admit it, maybe.”

“I’d never know.”

“Well I’ve had a crush on you since the seventh grade.”

“You moved to Beacon Hills in the seventh grade.”

“Exactly.”

“And you’ve had a crush on me this whole time?”

“Very secretly.”

“Huh. Well I’ve liked you since the first day of school,” he confesses.

“I’ve liked you since orientation, so I win.”

He smiles, then shakes his head playfully. “So I sit behind you in classes for years and only finally get the courage to talk to you when I’m borderline failing chemistry, and you only get the courage to talk to me for more than one minute if you can convince me to talk half of the time that we’d be studying together.”

“Sounds about right.”

“And my portion of the talking is in French, because you think my accent is hot?”

“Your accent is always hot; your French is hot on its own.”

“Ah, I’m following now.” He chuckles, letting his fingertips grace your hips.

“So,” you ask, “as two people with several year long mutual crushes on each other, what do we do next?”

“Well you’re the one that’s been tutoring me chemistry, love, I’m hoping you have the answer.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes playfully. “Wrong kind of chemistry, dork.” You reach your hands up to the sides of his face anyway, and pull him down for a kiss. Isaac complies immediately, setting one hand down beside you, while the other caresses your chin. Your legs hook around his waist, keeping him close until he starts to pull away, needing air. You let go, then hide your face as his own turns a rosy pink.

“That was worth the wait,” he says, smiling, and touching a finger to his recently-kissed lips. “Êtes-vous d'accord?”

“Shut up,” you tease, pushing him slightly. “Chemistry time.”

“We just had chemistry time. It’s French time now.”

“No, we can skip a round,” you insist, unsure you can hear anymore French fall from his lips without folding and kissing them again.

“On the contrary, I think you need to sharpen your vocabulary.”

“I think I’ll need a water break first.”

“That we can do,” he agrees. “I’ll make sure to get yours with extra ice.”

“Shush!”

#i feel like i'm cheating on kai #but i promise kai isn't going anywhere!!#nor are the mikaelsons - those for which i'm trying to write more #i have simply ✨ added ✨ another man to my collection #y'all i spelt his name wrong so many times writing this #have i ever mentioned i had a crush on a boy named isaac in my junior year of hs?#he was a twin #anyway #isaac lahey x reader #isaac lahey x y/n #teen wolf fanfiction

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eternal-silvertongued-prince · 9 months

Text

Celebrating your birthday with Severus

Pairing: Severus Snape x Reader

Genre: Fluff with a hint of spice

Rating: Explicit under the banner

Warnings: None

Word Count: 832

A/N: I got a quick birthday request for some headcanons, and I couldn’t help but jot some ideas down. One day I’ll do a full reader’s birthday fic, so I did not go into a lot of detail, but until then, enjoy!

Masterlist

If there was one thing you could always count on, it was Severus.

General help, support, information, etc. You name it, and he’ll be there for you to the best of his ability.

So, it’s no surprise that not only does Severus remember your birthday, he’s been planning how to celebrate your day for the past month.

This, however, is contingent on if you guys are already dating. If you weren’t, then it’s a whole other story.

So, let me split this into two sections to make it easier for me LOL

If you were not dating:

If you weren’t dating, Severus would still 100% be consciously aware of the day once he finds it out.

Have you thinking “Is he suspiciously less snappy and nicer to you today?”

You have every right to be suspicious because, yes, he is totally trying to not subject you to his usual nastiness.

Unless you are friends, don’t expect a gift from him

But maybe Severus was making himself a cup of tea and decided he might as well pour you one since there’s enough water in the kettle for two

“Oh, thank you, Severus! That’s very kind of you.”

Dismisses you from saying anything more on the subject with a wave of his hand

If you were another professor, you might find that the stack of essays you had left to grade during your lunch hour was done and covered in red ink from a familiar scrawl

You receive a gift from the staff that Minerva says was from everyone, but you know that Severus had no part in it

But you don’t mind, because the small gestures that he refuses to acknowledge, were more than you could ever expect from the cold man

If you were dating:

GET READY FOR ALL THE BIRTHDAY LOVE

He hates surprises, so he would never subject you to a surprise party

But he would keep to himself what he has for you as a gift or how the two of you were celebrating. He would definitely tell you if you truly wanted to know though

To reiterate, absolutely NO surprise parties. Why would he want people shouting at you unexpectedly?

He would want to celebrate more intimately with you

“Today is your day, and thank you for letting me celebrate it with you.”

Everything he does has rhyme or reason, so you best believe he spent days, if not weeks, making sure every meticulous detail was perfect

You best believe it’s a whole-day celebration. If your birthday fell on a week/workday, he would clear a day on the weekend to ensure you get the amount of love you deserve

Puts just the same effort into your gift because he needs to ensure that his perfect person receives the perfect gift

You feel loved and cared for every day, but on this day, he has an excuse to shower you with the affection you deserve without excuse or reason other than he can because it’s your birthday.

He may be the one giving you gifts, but you’ve given him the greatest gift he could ever imagine (and that is the gift of you!)

If both of you are sexually active, get ready for it to be a very pleasurable night

The night is all about you. Whatever you want, it's yours

His tongue? “You taste sweeter than any fruit could ever”

His lips? “I want to make sure no part of you is unloved.”

His hands? “How can anything ever compare to the softness that is your skin?”

His cock? “Look at you, darling. Look at how good you look with my cock going in and out of you.”

His words? “You are absolutely breathtaking when you fall apart for me.”

His cum? “No one can give me as much pleasure as you can. Take all of me. Every inch, every drop, it’s all yours.”

He won’t stop until you are thoroughly satisfied

Really, it’s him worshipping you as he should

When it’s all done, and you’ve had your fill, he makes sure to draw a bath for you and makes sure the two of you are cleaned before bed

You’re not allowed to lift a finger, and he takes his time to clean your body, kissing it along the way to make sure he’s replacing all the kisses he’s washing away

Once the two of you are cleaned and dried, he brings you to bed and wraps his arms around you

Slip into a peaceful night’s sleep with you knowing you had such an incredible man in your life, and he knew he could love you with every fibre of his being and that love was returned.

I've been away so long, so idk if any usernames have changed or whatnot, but I tagged those I can still find. If you want to be tagged, let me know! Users in italics are the ones I can't find. Since this fic has some NSFW, I only tagged those who I know wanted to be tagged in those works. If you wish to be removed, please lmk!

All Fics Taglist:

@monster-energies @multifandomgeeks @a-queen-and-her-throne @darbylee-23

Severus Snape Taglist:

@deepperplexity @yyourlara @insomniacaesthetic @yan-senna @smilingformoney @diamondbitch116 @iobsessoverfictionalmen @loosenyourcorsetsweatheart @solacesolarium

Want to be added to my taglist?

#snape #severus snape #severussnape #pro snape #snape fandom #headcanon #hp headcanon #snape x y/n #snape x reader #snape x you #severus snape x reader

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misshoneyimhome · 5 months

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/misshoneyimhome/737356008159084544/httpswwwtumblrcommisshoneyimhome736812845987

Prof!Willy anon and omg what you wrote was so good!! You don’t have to turn this into a series (but if you do I wouldn’t be opposed). Another thot/element to make it spicier is there being a little bit of an age gap like Willy is 30 ish and reader is like early to mid 20s. During one hookup, Willy has made you come so many times and he says something like “guys your age don’t know how to fuck a girl like this do they huh? can’t make you come over and over like I do?”. Also may I propose that he gets so turned on by being called professor in bed.

Oh, bb, I almost feel like I should head to church or something 🙈

These thoughts are stirring up all sorts of naughty ideas, and I just can't not go my instincts, you know 🙃😏

I hope you enjoy this next part 🙏🏼

Warnings; 18+ smut; oral sex (f receiving); fingering; unprocted sex (p in v); mild anal play (trying something new here🫢);

[Prof!Willy x reader]

“Guys your age don’t know how to fuck a girl like this do they huh?" I William Nylander (AU) 🖋️⚡️

"Alright, everyone, that’s it for today's session," the lecturer announced to the auditorium, signifying the end of the class and prompting the students to start leaving their seats. Most of them began making their way towards the exit, except for a couple of girls.

"Hey, Professor Nylander?" Angie spoke in a sweet, flirtatious tone as she approached the blonde man at his desk. "I was wondering if there's any chance I could earn some extra credits," she said, fluttering her eyelashes.

"This isn't high school, Miss Turner. Here, you're an adult expected to earn what you deserve through your efforts," Professor Nylander replied, brushing off her not-so-subtle attempts to flirt with him.

"Well, my grades haven't exactly been the greatest. So, I was thinking, if maybe there was anything I could do to have them go up a little? Maybe you could tutor me?" Angie persisted, briefly turning around and offered her friends a wink.

Nylander sighed deeply. Angie had positioned herself half-sitting on his desk, her eyes suggesting a desire for the slightly older man, while her two friends in the background smiled in anticipation of her success.

"Why are you even taking this class, Miss Turner? It seems it's not for the curriculum," Nylander raised an eyebrow.

"I'm a professional ice dancer, duh. My coach thought it might be good for me..." Angie rolled her eyes, clearly not invested in the subject. However, this attitude didn't sit well with the professor.

"Miss, I don’t exactly have the time for tutoring, nor would it be appropriate… you’re on your own," he tried to tell her off with a stern expression, defusing the flirtation she was trying to create.

Because it had no work on him. He had no interest in spending more time than necessary with the student.

No, there was only one of his students he’d spend time with outside of school: you.

And naturally, you’d observed the whole scene from your usual seat.

Glancing up at the professor behind the girls, you briefly caught his look and curved a light smirk on your lips, as you couldn’t help but feel a little good about how desperate the girls were to flirt with him. A man they didn’t seem to have a chance with. And a man you were sleeping with in secret.

So, the girls let the matter drop and walked away from Professor Nylander, past you on the stairs and made their way out of the room.

You couldn’t help but chuckle as you packed up your stuff and approached the man by his desk, just like Miss Turner had just done, standing in front of him.

"Oh, professor, can I earn a bit of extra credits?" you mocked her voice in a silly manner, exaggerating batting your eyelashes as she had done, prompting a chuckle from your professor.

"Oh, are you sure you’d be willing to do that, miss y/l/n?" he flashed you a mischievous grin.

“I thought it’d be highly inappropriate, Professor Nylander," you teased further, raising your eyebrows up and down.

"For everyone else, sure, but in your case..." he said in a low, suggestive tone, leaning against his table while keeping a composed distance. "I can't wait to see how you'd attempt to earn those extra credits."

Despite whispering with a seductive tone, he made an effort to maintain his composure, aware that someone might enter at any moment and discover your clandestine relationship.

"Well, I suppose I'll have to demonstrate later – at your place, perhaps?" you suggested playfully, accompanied by a teasing wink.

"Can't wait..."

And with those words, you then departed the lecture room, purposefully strutting confidence as you walked away, making sure he’d look at your ass.

And of course he did.

"You know, she's actually quite pretty," you remarked softly while enjoying the sushi take-out on the sofa. "Angie Turner, I’d get why you might be tempted."

William Nylander, your professor, regarded you with a curious expression as he joined you, settling in with his own take-out box and chopsticks.

"Why would you say that?" he inquired, prompting you to respond with a gentle smile and a slight shrug.

"Just in case you might want to be sleeping with other students... besides me," you mentioned, shifting your gaze to your sushi.

"What makes you think I’d want to sleep with anyone else?" William chuckled lightly.

“I don’t know… I mean, I don’t know who you sleep with besides me – it’s not exactly something we’ve talked about,” you elaborated with a soft smile.

"Do we need to talk about it? Are there others for you?" he queried, the two of you sitting on his sofa, locking eyes with one another amid the background noise of the TV.

"No," you replied gently, offering a faint smile. "In fact, there's no one else."

"Not even Josh Adams, whom you've been flirting with?" William's gaze momentarily fell to his food as he asked, then returned with a more serious expression.

"What… I haven't been flirting with Josh... and how do you even know about that?"

"I do see you outside the auditorium," he chuckled softly. "Just thought maybe there was something going on between you two, you know, someone closer to your age," he playfully winked while taking a bite of nigiri.

And you couldn't help but raise an eyebrow.

"Closer to my age?" you grinned at him. "Well, I suppose he is but... hang on, are you feeling jealous, Willy?"

"What? I'm not jealous..." William chuckled, before taking another bite of sushi.

"Oh, you're totally jealous!" You couldn't help but laugh, finding it amusing that the guy you were sleeping with might be jealous of one of your classmates.

However, William didn't really have any reason to be jealous because you weren't flirting with Josh. Not in the slightest.

Josh was simply keen on getting your notes for Nylander's class because everyone knew you excelled in your grades. So, he'd put in a lot of effort, trying to charm you into sharing your notes, but it hadn’t really work on you. You believed others should make their own effort instead of taking advantage just because you were rewarded for your hard work.

And it wasn't just because you were sleeping with you professor. No, you were actually interested in the subject.

"I'm not jealous, y/n," William chuckled. "Why would I be? I bet I fuck you better than he ever could..." he said somewhat darkly, finishing his last piece of sushi with a confident smirk.

"Oh, darling, I know you fuck me better than he can," you teased with a mischievous smile, knowing that such a comment would stir something within the man next to you.

"You've slept with him?" he asked, his eyes almost piercing into yours as his smirk slowly faded.

"Only twice, Willy... second semester, and then never again," you tried to offer him a reassuring smile, but it seemed your teasing joke stirred deeper emotions within him, and now he couldn't quite contain what seemed like a bit of jealousy.

"Was he any good?"

His question intrigued you, sensing a slight challenge in his demeanor now that there was a point of comparison. And you knew exactly how to reassure him that there was no real competition between the two, yet you also felt the temptation to play with the little spark you unintentionally ignited in William.

So, setting aside the empty take-out boxes on the coffee table, you smoothly leaned in and seductively whispered in his ear, "He was nothing compared to you... professor."

And that seemed to work wonders on William.

Quickly, he pulled you onto his lap, rising from his seat, lifting you effortlessly as his lips met yours in an eager kiss.

Your fingers instinctively tangled in his blonde hair as he carried you towards the bed, while tongues fiercely entwined, stealing every breath.

William then placed you on your back, lips still connected with yours, while he hovered at the edge of the bed with your legs wrapped around him. It was passionate and intense, saliva mixing as your bodies intertwined.

But then he abruptly pulled away, breaking the kiss by biting down your lower lip, standing upright, and his gaze serious as he looked down at you.

William knew that the 10-year age gap didn't matter much in the context of their purely sexual relationship. However, he was also aware that his additional years of experience could work to his advantage, and he knew precisely how to showcase it.

Firstly, he unbuttoned his shirt swiftly, tossing it aside to reveal his toned chest. Then, he expertly unbuckled his belt, slid down his trousers, and kicked them off to the side as well.

Your gaze followed him intensely, both of you exchanging hungry looks, and you could definitely feel your cunt pounding in anticipation, even though he hadn't even begun yet.

Next, he undid your jeans, skillfully removing them along with your underwear. And with a deft move, he pulled your jumper over your head and unhooked your bra with a simple snap.

And soon, you found yourself completely naked before your professor. As he knelt down, your legs being tossed over his shoulders, and his mouth eagerly delved into your heated area.

"Fuck, Willy, yes," you moaned loudly as he worked his magic mouth, licking up your folds, sucking your clit, and exploring you entrance with his tongue.

William’s mouth wasn't just adept at speaking in class; no, he also had a talent for bringing you to your first orgasm simply by eating you out. And as he held your thighs firmly, the waves of pleasure washed over you, causing you to arch your back and grip his shoulders with your heels.

And your second orgasm was then brought to you by a combination of his skilled mouth and fingers working in tandem. His rough, long fingers curled inside you perfectly, making sure he hit you most sensitive sport every time, as he then pushed you to the edge once more causing you to loudly moan his name, and your mind consumed by a hazy pleasure.

William knew your body so well that he didn't have to think much about making you feel good. He just knew what to do.

"William..." you gasped as he stood and released his hold on you, his large, proud length strained against his boxers, leaving a damp patch of pre-cum.

“You’re doing so well, baby girl,” he praised with a lustful intense glare, almost incapable of restraining himself from fucking you senseless. But he needed to show you just what he could do to you. That no other young boy could.

And as you tried to slowly crawl up the bed to find the pillows to rest on, William forcefully pulled you by your calves and dragged your ass back down to the edge of the bed, your arms coming to extend above your head as your hair was spread messily out on the bed, positioning you with your legs on either side of him.

"Oh, so you think I'm done with you?" he chuckled with a dark tone, and you couldn't help but smirk in return, intrigued as you were.

Because, obviously, he wasn't finished with you.

And this time, he wanted to feel himself inside of you. After pulling down his boxers and freeing himself, he held your legs around his waist and pushed forcefully, easily entering you deeply.

"Yes! Willy," you cried out as he completely filled you up, starting to rock his hips hard and deeply, while gripping your thighs tightly.

"Yeah, baby girl, you like it like this?" he breathed out deeply with every thrust. "You're such a good girl for me…"

His praise was like sweet music to your ears, and you couldn't help but release loud sounds with every pound from William, stimulating you entirely as he hit deep inside.

Because under him, you were a total mess, surrendering completely to his touch with every movement, and again feeling another orgasm building up.

"Willy, I can't...!" you almost whined, sensing the climax approaching.

"You can't what, baby? Take me? Oh, I know you can take me!"

In one quick move, William pulled out, flipped you around onto your hands and knees, then with his strong hold, pushed you back and resumed thrusting forcefully.

And just when you believed he couldn't become more intense and rougher, he proved otherwise.

William fucked you, and he fucked you hard. His skin audibly smacking against yours, as both of you were breathing heavily, the room filled with warmth, sweat, and passionate cries.

It was all incredibly intense and very much overstimulating.

You could hardly articulate a verbal warning. So instead, you simply gave in and reached climax once more, covering his shaft with your juices, as your head fell onto the mattress, feeling your essence trickle down your inner thigh.

William felt immensely satisfied with your response to his work, and he just couldn't resist complimenting himself for his efforts.

“Yeah, baby girl, guys your age don’t know how to fuck a girl like this do they huh? Can’t make you come over and over like I do?”

And no, they truly could not.

Your knees were growing weaker by the second, and there was no way you could endure another intense orgasm brought on by the man behind you. Yet, summoning a bit of strength, you forced yourself onto your elbows once again, earning only a smirk from William at how he had rendered you weak-kneed.

And then his gaze shifted to your bouncing ass as he continued pounding, he felt unable to restrain himself. So, he allowed a few drops of saliva to slip out of his mouth and trickle between your cheeks, where he then positioned his right thumb just above your tight hole, playfully applying a little pressure, which evoked a new, loud moan from your lips.

"Oh god," you murmured, dropping your head in defeat to the overwhelming pleasure once more, as you felt his thumb very gently press your tense muscles.

And you weren't alone in nearing climax. William too was on the verge of losing himself entirely.

"Baby girl, just give me one more," he demanded with a husky voice. And he did not have to tell you twice.

With his member deeply inside you and his finger teasing your other opening, you unraveled for the fourth time that night, your mind going completely blank and your body trembling beneath you.

"Yes, professor," you gasped out.

And those words, coupled with your tightening around William's cock, led him to follow suit, as he experienced one of the most intense orgasms of his life. Releasing a deep grunt, as he expeled all the air from his lungs, and covered your walls entirely with his cum.

The air hung heavy with your labored breaths and the scent of sweat for nearly a minute before either of you could muster the energy to move and disentangle, slowly easing down from your intense high.

It had been a whirlwind of passionate and overwhelming pleasure. Only when William drew you close for a tender and calming embrace did the comfortable silence between you break.

"So, you really don’t sleep with anyone else?" he teased, glancing down at you while you rested your head on his chest and looked up at him.

"How could I ever sleep with anyone else when you fuck me like this?" you responded rhetorically, with a light chuckle.

"I suppose you can't, huh?" you both laughed softly. His question, however, prompted you to shift from your relaxed position. And as you stretched your arm, you now peered down at him.

"What about you? You never mentioned if you were sleeping with anyone else?"

Your tone was gentle, yet William sensed the undertones of seriousness, and he couldn't help but return a soft expression and a slight shake of his head.

"No, baby, you're the only one," he smiled back at you before pulling you into a passionate yet soft kiss.

#thirst week #18+#william nylander imagine #nhl smut #wn88 imagine #william nylander smut #nhl hockey imagine #toronto maple leafs imagine #prof!willy

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honeygrahambitch · 5 months

Text

Back to my "Hannibal and Bedelia were colleagues in med school in Paris" headcanons.

If we follow the Hannibal Rising narrative line, there's a period where Hannibal injects himself with sodium thiopental to recall what has happened to his sister and basically to bring back some suppressed memories.

I think that wasn't a glorious academic time for him. And I really don't think he had friends other than Bedelia who was his "frienemy" because of the constant competition and casual ust and mind you, their egos were enormous even as students.

So basically she is the only one who notices the change. He looks tired. He looks consumed. He seems faraway during most of the lectures. And this change annoys her cause the only person who qualified as her "competition" was suddenly lacking.

It's not that his grades dropped. At least not enough for anyone to notice. Other than her.

So one night she storms into the library. She knows he is the only one who would be there past midnight on a Saturday. He ia hunched over a book and doesn't even lift his head when he hears her.

She slams a sheet of paper right on the pages of his book interrupting his focus.

"Your calculations were wrong." It's all she says.

Hannibal blinks a few times, taking in the sight of her. He realizes that it's probably raining since her blonde hair and coat are wet. But that's not the reason why she seems to be fuming.

"Is that so?" He asks, a bit bored.

"Yes."

"I will do them again by tomorrow." He says and moves away the paper so he can continue his reading.

She rolls her eyes annoyed, not moving an inch. "You will do them now."

"Excuse me?" He asks, lifting his glance.

"You heard me."

He wouldn't mind it usually, banter was something very common for the two of them but tonight it feels like something else.

"It looks like you are not here because of the calculations."

"I obviously am." She says and crosses her arms over her chest. She doesn't like that he is starting to read into it.

"Are you telling me that you walked through rain all the way to the university, at midnight only to tell me to fix the numbers?"

"It was midnight a long time ago, Hannibal."

"Even more so. Why are you here? I am trying to read."

"What are you reading?" She asks and before he can move his glance back to his book, she takes it away from him. "Tell me, what have you been reading?" She knows that he had probably been dissociating the whole time until she stormed in. He looked clueless but hid it well enough with his usual poker face.

"Something which was more worthy of my attention than this conversation we are having right now. Will you give me the book?"

"Not until you tell me what is actually going on with you." She says firmly.

"Pardon? You are the one who started harassing me."

"I am harassing you because something's wrong with you."

"If you ever become a psychiatrist, Bedelia, please don't apply the same tactics on your patients."

"Don't change the subject. You are not my patient, you are my fr-" she stops and corrects herself quickly "colleague."

He tries his best not to smile.

"And you are the only one here who has enough brains to almost surpass me. And I need the competition. And you need it too, that's our unspoken deal."

Hannibal doesn't bother to correct her about the use of the word "almost" and instead nods, so she can keep going.

"However lately, you haven't been yourself. You are not present. You are not even trying. You don't even know what you have been reading. And your grades are brilliant to everyone but it's those tiny decimals that make the difference. And it's too many decimals between my grades and yours."

Hannibal is slightly amused by this whole discourse. Bedelia was a nerd just as much as he was.

"Have you been obsessing over my grades? More than the usual, I mean."

"Hush, don't change the subject. What is happening with you?"

Hannibal sighs and debates on what to answer. He obviously cannot disclose what he has been doing but at the same time she is the only person in the world who has noticed a change, so maybe, hiding was pointless.

"I remembered something."

"What?"

"I remembered something from a long time ago. Something that I have suppressed up until now." He says. "I won't get into it but it might have hit me harder than expected."

She wants to keep scolding him. She wants to keep interrogating him. But she can't. For the first time tbat night she notices his dark bags in the dim light of the lamp. He looks exhausted. He is still charming, but the usual mischief in his eyes is faded.

She knows vague details about his life in Lithuania but she knows enough to tell that it might be related to that.

Neither of them says anything for a few minutes. She puts his book back on the table.

"The fact that you didn't even bother to lie about it tells me enough."

He nods.

"I wanted to bully you more tonight. But you ruined the mood."

Their shy laughter echoes into the empty library.

"I will leave you to your reading." She says as she is ready to turn and leave.

"I could use some company. You know, I need the competition."

She stays.

#hannibal #hannibal lecter #bedelia du maurier #hannibal rising #hannibal nbc #hannibal series

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leossmoonn · 2 years

Text

In The Night

masterlist

pairing - tristan dugray x reader

type - smut, fluff. 16+

note / request - “UGH your gilmore girls writing is so perfect i love the way you write everyone!! could you maybe write a fic where reader is tutoring tristan and flirting w her the whole time but she has to go home. she leaves but he sneaks out to go to her and he like gets there to find her touching herself to him” this was a spicy one. Enjoy!!

summary - wanting to spend more time with you, tristan finds that you share his feelings

warnings / includes - language, smut: masturbation, mirror sex for like 5 seconds, fingering and oral ( f receiving), handjob, protected sex. not edited btw

————

*gif isn’t mine*

“You’re really getting this, Tris. I’m really proud of you,” you beam.

“Well, I do have the smartest and prettiest teacher out there,” Tristan smirks.

You look down shyly, a small smile on your face. “Let’s continue, shall we?”

“Or we could do something more fun,” he suggests. You peer at him through your lashes, giggling as he wiggled his eyebrows. “And what do you suggest that is?”

He lean forward and puts his arm around the back of your chair. “Why don’t we go to your place and I’ll show you?”

The offer is tempting, you’ll admit, but this is typical of Tristan. While he did do the homework and take your tutoring sessions seriously, he also flirted with you like his life depended on it. Complimenting you, teasing you, practically begging for you to come home with him so he could show you a good time. And while you would love to say yes, it wasn’t why you spent time with him.

His grades were slipping prior to you tutoring him and he only had two choices: get his act together or get shipped to boarding school. So he found you and soon his grades and work ethic started to improve. While tutoring him, you two developed feelings for each other. Yours was kept locked inside your mind and heart while Tristan let it all out in the open.

You don’t mind at all, but you don’t want to compromise his learning because you want to kiss him. So you let him flirt with you, playing the shy girl card and not giving into his advances. But little does he know, you want to be with him so badly.

You slowly pull away from him, fighting every instinct in your body to lean forward. “How was your Calc test?” You change the subject.

Tristan’s shoulders sag and he turns away. “Horrible.”

“Do you say that because you hate Calculus or because you actually think you did bad?” You question. “Both,” he answers.

“Do you know your test score?” You ask. “Nope,” he shakes his head.

“Well, let’s see.” You log onto your computer and into the school’s website. You log into Tristan’s account, finding the newest Calculus test date. Your eyes widen and your jaw drops. “You got a B+, Tris!”

Tristan’s jaw drops to the floor. He looks at the screen, not believing what he sees. “Are you sure this is my test?”

“Yes!” You grin. You turn to him, hugging him tightly in excitement. “I knew you could do it! See, you’re really smart, you just need to put in the work!”

Tristan wraps his arms around you lightly, placing his palms flat on your back and holding you close to him. “I do have a awesome teacher.”

“Ah, Tristan. It’s ‘an’,” you pull away. “Just because you’re doing better in math doesn’t mean you can slack off at English.”

He chuckles, “I’m just kidding.” “Mmhm, you better be,” you snicker, a small smile on your face. “I’m happy to say that I think your parents will not send you to boarding school.”

“All thanks to you,” Tristan says. “You deserve some credit, too.” You shut off the computer, packing up your textbooks and papers. “You’re really smart, Tristan. You just needed a little help, which isn’t something to be ashamed of.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” he remarks. “You’re the smartest person I know.”

“Believe it or not, I failed junior high math,” you say. You hold your finger up to your lips with a smile. “But don’t tell anyone. It’s a secret.”

“How come you’re so good at math, though?” He asks. “I got help like you did,” you say simply. You stand up, slinging your bag over your shoulder. You adjust your skirt, pulling the back down as you walk away.

“Are we done already?” Tristan pouts. “Yep. I’m sorry, Tris. My parents are expecting me,” you give him a small smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Make sure to have your essay done for me to revise!”

Tristan sighs as he watches your retreating figure. “I promise,” he mutters. He looks back at the desk, seeing one of the notebooks you had left. He grabs it and

————

“Goodnight, Mom!” You shout as you close your bedroom door. You flip on your light and change out of your Chilton uniform. You slip on a tank top and cotton shorts, heading to your bathroom to brush your teeth.

Your phone chimes as you walk back to your room. You curl up in your bed, opening your phone and smiling as you see a text message from Tristan.

Thinking of you ;) is attached to a picture of him posing next to his essay. You can’t help but laugh at his antics. You text him back, sending a picture of yourself to go along.

You take a picture of you holding the book that his essay happens to be about, captioning it Looks like you could use some company. You send a book emoticon with it, making sure he knows where your head is at.

And while Tristan knows you aren’t flirting with him at the same extent he is, he knows for a fact that you aren’t not playing the same game he is. He texts you back saying Does the girl come with the book? He waits a few minutes, a little disappointed that you didn’t next him back yet. He figures your asleep already. It is pretty late and you are a goody-two-shoes and all.

Tristan decides to get ready for bed as well, but when he puts his papers away, he sees your notebook. He knows he should leave it and return it tomorrow, but it was only 10 PM, and the off chance that you are actually awake pushes him to go to your house. If you are awake, then he could make an excuse for you to revise his essay now, which he knows will take a while since he’s halfway finished and he bull-shifted his way through it. It’s a chance to spend time with you, and in the end, that’s all he desires.

Tristan sneaks out of his house, taking his bike and riding your to house. He’s thankful that you’re house is only a mile away, otherwise it wouldn’t be as easy to sneak out.

He parks his bike in your lawn, rushing to the side of the house where your room resides. He tries to throw rocks at your window, but it doesn’t catch your attention. It’s weird, he thinks, as your bedroom light is still on.

Inside your four walls, you’re still awake. Your laying on your back in your bed, your phone resting on your nightstand beside you. Your shirt is riding up your stomach, your hand massaging your left breast while your other hand is in your panties, rubbing your clit.

“Mmm, Tristan,” you hum, your eyes closed as you imagine him fingering you instead of yourself.

You picture his perfect body over you with his big hands groping your body. His tongue licking your nipples and mouth sucking on your tits while he teases you between your thighs. You imagine him to make you beg for it until your practically crying for him to fuck you.

You spread your legs wider, getting deeper into your fantasy. “Fuck, Tris,” you pant as you slip a finger inside of you. His fingers would stretch you out more, getting you ready for the real deal. His tongue would lick down your body, nibbling softly as he goes further and further south. You’re aching by now, needing more than just your fingers.

Your eyes flutter behind your lids as you try to imagine how his tongue would feel on your clit. His lips sucking the aching bud, the tip of his tongue flicking it and making you squirm. You can’t help but whimper out loud as the thought. You need him so bad.

As if the universe was listening in on your wishes, you find Tristan outside of your window. At first, you think it’s a dream. Your vision is fuzzy from your eyes being closed for so long, and your body is tired from doing the work yourself. But as you get up and walk towards your window, you discover that it’s very much real life.

“Fuck,” you mutter to yourself. Heat crawls up your neck and embarrassment takes over your features. You cannot that you just got caught masturbating, especially by the the person whom you were thinking about.

Tristan taps on your window, gesturing for you to open it up. You sigh and decide to face your fears. You slid up the window, immediately crossing your arms as he climbs in.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You ask, your voice low so your family doesn’t hear you.

Tristan opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He can’t get the imagine if you masturbating out of his mind. Your hips bucking up to your hand, the sight of your tits as your tank top was half covering them, the way your face was scrunched up in pleasure. The more he thought about it, the tighter his pants became.

“Well, come out with it! You’re not supposed to be here,” you gripe.

“I-I came here to return this.” He holds out your notebook.

Your eyes widen as you look down. “Oh. Thank you.” You toss your notebook on your desk. You look back at Tristan, raising your brows. “Is there anything else you want.”

“N-No,” he shakes his head. His eyes rake up and down your body, burning holes in your skin. You clasp your hands in front of your thighs, looking away shyly. As Tristan looks at your face, he regains his usual cocky attitude, smirking a little. “But it looks like you could use some help.”

You roll your eyes. “You saw nothing, okay? Go back home and go to sleep. I’m sure you still have to write that essay tomorrow morning, right?”

“I actually brought it here,” he gestures to his backpack that’s on his shoulder.

“Well, tutoring center is closed. Sorry.” You spin on your heel, taking a step to your bed. Tristan sets his bag down and reaches out, grabbing your forearm and spinning you around.

“C’mon, angel. We both know you need me,” he whispers.

Your heart hammers against your ribcage. “H-How do you know it’s you I need? It could be Dean, you know?”

Tristan chuckles, “you’ve never looked at Dean a day in your life. And plus, I can read lips, angel. You were most definitely saying my name.”

You take in a shaky breath, your head spinning. You’ve spent months fantasizing about him. Never in your wildest dreams did you think they would become a reality - not on purpose, at least.

“I’m sure you know this by now, but I share your feelings,” he hums. He skims his fingers up your bare arm, reaching his hand up to your face and cupping your cheek. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you.”

Your stomach flips. “I bet I’ve wanted you for longer.”

He grins in reply. He places his hand on your waist, spinning you around to face your mirror. He pulls you flush against his chest. You can feel his boner against your ass.

“Tell me, what do you want from me? What were you imagining earlier?” He hangs his head down and softly kissing your jaw. Your eyes are glued to the mirror as you watch his hands ghost over your body. “Unless you don’t want me to touch you, you have to speak, princess.”

Your throat becomes dry as you think of the words. You can’t think about anything but his lips on your skin. They burn as they trail down your neck. His kisses become more sloppy and more needy as he continues. He nibbles at the nape of your neck, causing your knees to buckle. You never knew something simple as being kissed on the neck could feel this good.

You bring a hand up to the back of his head and clutch the hair at the nape of his neck. His arm holds you up for support, his teeth sinking further into your skin.

“I guess I’ll go,” he sighs. As soon as he pulls away, you yelp. “No! Stay. I-I need you.” You hate how desperate you sound, but you can’t help it. Your panties are soaked and he’s the only one who can fix it.

“What do you need me to do?” He asks.

You breath in deeply as you set your eyes on your reflection. “I… I need you to touch me here.” You gently grab his hand, slowly placing it into your right boob.

“Mhmm, and what else?” He slowly massages the soft tissue, feeling your nipple harden against his palm.

“And here,” you place his other hand on your hip, guiding his fingers down to your drenched core. “Oh, yeah? Is this what you were thinking about earlier?” He whispers.

“Yes,” you nod. “I was thinking about how good it would feel to have you pressed up against me. The way you would stretch me out. I was thinking about how good your cock would feel inside of me.”

Tristan shudders behind you, not being able to control himself anymore. He takes ahold of your hips and pushes you onto the bed. “Mind if I make your dreams a reality?” He asks.

“Please, be my guest,” you nod eagerly.

He dives down and captures your lips in a heated kiss. You moan in his mouth as your tongues skim alongside each other. Kissing him turns you on even more. It’s just what you need to get yourself out of your daze.

You buck your hips up to his, his erection brushing up against your clothed clit. Tristan lets out a soft moan in your mouth. He kisses you faster, gasping for shallow breathes in between. His hands roam your body, tracing your curves a million times as if you commit it to memory. You decide to take your lead in touching him, grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head.

He pulls away for a split second to help you take off his shirt. You throw it onto your ground, mouth watering at the sight. Your hands skim his toned stomach, your fingertips trailing across his very prominent v-line.

“Who knew Tristan Dugray looked like this?” You breath out.

Tristan shrugs nonchalantly. “It’s all natural.”

You giggle in reply, grabbing his neck and bringing my him back down to kiss you. You take the initiative and take off your tank top, leaving you practically naked under him.

Tristan sits back on his heels, taking in your almost naked body. “You are beautiful.”

You smile, “thank you.”

He fingers the hem of your panties, looking to you for confirmation. You nod at once and he slides them down your legs, tossing them to the side. He’s mesmerized by you. You’re perfect.

“Are you going to keep staring or do something, Tris?” You tease.

His cheeks glow pink and he grins. “Just admiring the prettiest girl in the world.”

You sit up on your elbows, placing your lips next to his ear. “How about you make the prettiest girl in the world cum then?”

Tristan’s heart drops to his feet. He nods feverishly, placing his hands on your inner thighs. You sigh contently as he wraps his mouth around your tits, flicking your nipple with his tongue and sucking on the swollen tissue. His hands run up and down your skin, his fingers tip-toeing to your pussy. He’s so close you can almost feel him. You buck up your hips to his wrist, whining in desperation.

“Patience, angel. Good girls are patient, you know,” he mumbles against your skin.

“I’ve waited long enough,” you whine.

“Desperate little princess,” he taunts. “You need my fingers, hm?”

“Yes,” you nod. “Tell me how bad you want it, baby.” He nips at the skin around your nipple, peering at you through his lashes. Your eyes find his as you speak. “I need you so bad, Tris. It hurts, that’s how and I need you.”

He grins like a devil. “Let me sooth your pain then.” He easily slips a finger into you, groaning at the wetness. You’re like a slip-n-slide. He takes the liberty in slipping two fingers in, your back arching in response.

“Oh, Tristan,” you moan, your pussy squeezing his fingers. He curls them inside of you and brings them to fuck up against your g-spot. He brings his thumb up to your mouth. “Suck for me, angel.”

You do as he says, eyes wide as you wet his finger. He takes it out of your mouth, placing it onto your clit. Your toes curl as he rubs tight little circles over the throbbing bud.

“Ah, Tristan. Mmm, fuck.” His fingers fuck you deeper, picking up the pace just slightly. He rubs your clit faster, his thumb moving from side to side to stimulate each and every nerve.

“Tristan,” you whine. Your walls tighten around him as your stomach coils. “M’gonna cum,” you warn.

“How about you cum on my tongue then,” he suggests, diving down and replacing his thumb with his tongue. You body jerks up, his nose brushing against your vulva as he envelops your clit into his mouth. The sensation is heavenly. His tongue flicks up your clit, his lips sucking loudly. He puts more focus on your clit as his fingers continue to pound inside of you, driving you to your orgasm.

You slap your hand on your mouth as you cum, trying to muffle your moans as to not wake your parents. Tristan draws out your orgasm, licking a stripe up your pussy as he takes his fingers out. You let out a relieved sigh, looking at Tristan through hooded eyes.

“Was that okay?” he asks. You nod, “it was perfect. Man, I should have done this a long time ago.”

“Why didn’t you?” he asks. “I was worried it would get in the way of us tutoring,” you explain.

“Maybe we should use this to our advantage,” he grins.

You laugh, “oh, yeah? And how do you suggest that?” You slowly sit on your heels, placing your hand on his thigh. You slide your hand up to the tent in his pants, touching him lightly.

“M-Maybe,” he mutters, his eyes fluttering close. “You can kiss me every time I do something right.”

You sit up on your knees, pressing your bare chest to his as you palm him. “I could get behind that.”

He looks down at you, getting impossibly more turned on. “Y-Yeah?”

You nod with a mischievous grin. “Of course.” You bring your other hand up to his face, running your fingers through his hair. “You know, I didn’t realize how easy you were. My hand isn’t even fully touching you, and you’re already a stuttering mess.”

“And I didn’t realize you could be so dominate,” he states. “You didn’t know from tutoring?” You him. “You should really pay attention more.” You kiss his neck, finding his sweet spot and sucking on it.

He takes in a shaky breath, sitting down on the bed as to not lose his balance. You slip your hands into his pants, looking into his eyes.

“Is this okay?” You ask, slowing your movements. “Way more than okay,” he confirms.

You pump him a few times, collecting his pre cum on your thumb and using it as lubricant. Tristan’s hands find your waist and pulls you closer, your body rubbing up against his.

“Can I fuck you?” He asks, his breathing ragged.

You smile, “please do.”

You lay down on your bed after giving him a condom. You watch as he undresses, butterflies fluttering in his stomach as you see his length. He’s a little above average, definitely, and has a good amount of girth to him. You cannot wait to know how he feels.

“Lay back for me, princess,” he says. You do as he says, spreading your legs for him and wait patiently. He smiles as he looks at you. “So gorgeous.” He puts his hands on your waist, bringing you close to him.

“Are you ready?” He asks. “Yes,” you answer.

“Let me know if anything hurts or you just want me to stop,” he says.

You smile, “I will.”

He watches as he slips inside of you, your walls clenching around every inch of his length. You whimper as he stretches you out.

“This feels okay?” He mumbles. “Yes,” you say.

He pulls out of you, then sheathing himself inside of you.

“Ah, Tris —” Tristan crashes his lips into yours to muffle your moans.

“We have to be quiet, baby. Can’t wake up your parents, now can we?” He mumbles against your lips.

You whimper in reply. “Feels good good to be quiet.”

“I know, princess. But be a good girl for me, yeah? You can do that, right?” He hums.

You nod, “m’kay.”

He thrusts inside of you, hitting your sweet spot deliciously. Your back arches, pressing your chest up against his. Your hips buck up, the new angle allowing him to dig deeper. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, dragging down his skin.

“Mm, Tristan. Fuck. Feels so good,” you groan, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“Feels fucking amazing,” Tristan agrees, holding himself up on his elbows. He fucks you faster, causing your bed to freak, but you two don’t care. All the matters now is each other and how amazing it feels to finally get some release.

Your pussy pulsates around him and he can feel the heartbeat up against your walls. His dick twitches inside of you as he gets close to his orgasm.

“Shit, Y/n,” he breathes out. He fucks you harder, keeping the same pace as before. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling his hips closer to yours. Your room fills with the sound of skin slapping against skin and your muffled moans.

“Tristan,” you pant, as you feel yourself getting closer. His movements become sloppier and you know he’s about to cum.

“Tristan, I-I —” your hand grabs at his, bringing it between you two.

“I got you, baby.” He begins to rub your clit, causing you to squirm under him.

“Fuck, Tristan. M’gonna cum,” you mumble.

“Do it for me, baby. Cum all over my cock,” Tristan pants.

You bury your face into Tristan neck as you cum, your body lifting up as you reach your climax. You feel his condom grow heavy inside of you, signaling that he’s cum, too.

His sweaty body rolls off of you and onto your mattress. He takes off his condom, finding a trash can and throwing it away.

You two lay beside each other, cooling off.

“What if your parents find us?” Tristan worries. “It’s a little too late for that,” you chuckle.

Tristan laughs with you. “True.” He throws his arm around you, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You feel okay?”

“I feel amazing,” you hum. You hug his side, burying your face into his chest.

You two stay in silence for a few minutes, enjoying each other’s company before Tristan speaks.

“Can we do a round two?” He whispers.

You sit up and smack his chest. “Tristan!”

————

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soft-for-them · 2 years

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Dead dial - Leon Kennedy x plus size reader

Summary: You're a nursing student who lives in Raccoon City who frequently talks to an old friend, Leon Kennedy, over the phone. Just as he's about to move to the same city as you the living dead start to roam the streets. (There is some descriptions of zombie related gore.)

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated and help more people read my works.

A/N: Replaying Resident Evil games. Might not be 100% canon, I'm not really into the RE law. Also this will get a part two if people like it enough. Not proof read because I'm tired.

“You know this probably is a bad idea, Leon.”

Balancing the phone receiver between your ear and shoulder you try not to pull in the old spiral cord too much, the old in phone wall in your outdated flat is probably as old as you.

Standing in your small kitchen, the kitchen island digging into your soft flesh as your lean into it so the phone cord does not snap, you look out the old creaky wooden window past the fire escape to the dim yellow bulb street lights and rain soaked grey buildings.

Sirens loud and ear piercing can be heard, followed by the flashing of the obnoxious red and blue lights of multiple cop cars. You’ve never really trusted the police in this city, funny considering the man on the end of the phone is about to become one.

“(Y/n).” Leon says with an exhausted sigh. You can imagine his rubbing his hand through his hair whilst saying it.

“There’s something going on here-“ you step closer to the widow the phone line going straight as you look outside like an nosey old person would, “-the hospitals have been so hectic lately.”

You should know, you’re a second year nursing student, it’s the whole reason you moved to Raccoon city in the first place. (It certainly wasn’t the damp filled flats and lovely raining weather that brought you here.)

For school you work partly in the city’s hospital and for weeks now the ER has been flooded with people, you don’t know why, but many either have been sent home or have suddenly died. There’s even a rumour that patients have been taken as test subjects by Doctor Bard, though you’ve been too busy dealing with the rise of ‘cannibals’ to even care. All the nursing students have been worried, hell everyone working at the hospital has been worried, but the city’s government and press have been keeping the rising casualties hush hush.

“I know…” Leon begins his words long and worried, “Was it bad today?”

He knows your answer regardless, for the last month you conversations on the phone have been less about happy things such as seeing a fluffy dog on a walk or eating a tasty pastry and more on just about how you feel like you’re an overworked underpaid nurse already with how much you’ve been helping at the hospital whilst also studying and working a part time job.

“They say us going to the hospital is for educational purposes, at first it was but now we just go to be extra hands. They need it. I saw a doctor collapse today she was so over worked… and well at least all this overtime is going towards my grade.”

“(Y/n).” Leon echoes your name so quietly to stop you from rambling, he has known you long enough to know when your anxious rambling begin.

“Haha-“ you nervously chuckle as more sirens blare on, this time from ambulances rushing down the narrow roads lined with parked cars and thin pavements, “-I’m going to get an A with all the work I’m doing.”

“(Y/n).” his voice is louder and filled with concern.

“I hand to hold man down today whilst he screamed… he was screaming Leon-“ tears start to bubble up in your tired eyes, them threatening to drip down your face like the rain drop on your windowsill, “-I- I-“

“(Y/n)… listen to me, ok.”

“I’m listening.” You sniff as you lean back on the kitchen counter.

“You’re ok, Sundays almost here and then you can have day off, I can call if you like.”

Leon hopes you will for his relationship isn’t going well and ever since you moved away he hasn’t had a proper friend to talk to about such mundane and normal things. He likes hearing your voice even if lately you’ve been sounding worn out and a bit sad.

“I- I have work Saturday and I’ll sleep through Sunday, I- well- I don’t want to miss a call, but it’s hardly a day off Leon.”

“Ring in sick, go to that café you want to go to- what is it call- Lauren’s?”

“Lorenzo’s coffee and cake.”

“Yeah, that. You said they have a cream cake and imported coffee beans.” He remembers you talking about it on a past phone call, “Or you said that you wanted to go to that pop up art exhibit-“

“- The classics one –“

“-Yes, you said there is a Van Gogh there.”

He recalls you staying that a private collector was exciting their art collection which just so happened to have a Van Gogh sketch in it. You were so excited when you told he almost asked you to go with him to it, totally forgetting you now live in to different places and not in the same apartment complex like you did before.

“I ends Friday.” You glumly say.

“Then call in sick Friday and Saturday.”

Surly your boss would believe you more if you’d come down with say a cold on the Friday rather than suddenly getting on the Saturday, that’s what Leon thinks as he says the idea to you.

“I guess it does make it more believable to but-“

“-but?”

“…I don’t want to let anyone down Leon. This city is going to shit and I don’t want to be the asshole who fucks everything up because I don’t turn up to work or class…”

“You work in a supermarket.” His voice is filled with a fun confusion, like he’s amused and shocked at your words, as he ponders how not turning up at your cashier job will affect the city.

“So? Three shops have already closed down this month, the customers have doubled because people have to eat and- and-“

“(Y/N), you’re overthinking again. They can handle a day without you.”

“They can?”

“I can’t handle a missed phone call from you, think about it. A day off and a long phone call with me or no day off and a missed phone call because you’re too exhausted to wake up?”

“You know I’d take the phone call regardless.”

“Take the days off and call me tomorrow, it’s getting late and we both need some rest.”

It’s your cue to say goodbye, which is already drawn out and filled with cheesy jokes from Leon that make you laugh. You always did say that going to bed on a happy note makes the next day a better experience and Leon remembers it, so he always tries to cheer you up before either one of you hangs up.

“Night Leon.”

“Goodnight (Y/n).”

“Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

You didn’t take the days off but you did stay up late long enough to speak to Leon. He was having girlfriend troubles and you talked to the sun came up.

You were on your way to a lecture but a mass email was sent out telling everyone to stay home, or arrive at the hospital to help out, you chose the former opting rather to go home and go back to sleep.

Maybe you’ll go to the hospital to help out later on.

Apparently half of the students were already at the university when the email was sent out and apparently a lot of teachers were too. Many people have been sending messages through the many university group chats and message boards to stay away from the school. On person said that the city was going t be evacuated.

The sirens have been going off for days now, public transport has been limited that morning for some odd reason, you had waited at you bus stop for a half hour before getting a text from a friend telling you about the email and walking back home.

Even now you hurry as if someone is following you.

It feels like for the last week the city has become smaller and smaller, like a video game with a map yet to unlock. More and more people have become ill and it seems the Umbrella Corporation is being shoved in your face, their advertisements playing every commercial break along with warnings to stay inside unless you need to go out to work, school, the shops or hospital.

You have no clue what’s going on but you’re glad Leon is starting work here, even if he’s a cop.

You hope that Leon will get to the city quickly. You see, it all started with a call from him last night of him crying and saying his girlfriend dumped him and ever since that call it has seemed to get worse for you both. No longer was he going to have that nice shared flat with her in Raccoon city and from what you heard he was drunk, whilst you were up all night the sound of sirens and screams keeping you up.

Last night you stayed up with him until he fell asleep and even then you couldn’t sleep. Even this morning, you were worried sick about him driving down to Raccoon hungover, so you left him a voice message.

“Hey, Leon. I’m just about to head out to class, but um just know I’m here for you if you need me, oh and drink some water and take some paracetamol... Yeah, anyway I was thinking that well if you want to you could crash here if that apartment situation is still – you know- fuck, it’s too early to think and talk coherently… Um, yeah, the offer’s there if you want, you know where the spare key is hidden, speak to you soon. Take care Leon. Bye.”

And even now as you rush home avoiding everyone out on the streets, which is odd because there hardy seems to be anyone at all, well apart from some people asleep on benches like they were drunk and apartment buildings filled with shouts of people angry and annoyed (which you don’t realise is the sounds of zombies roaming around.)

You hurry up your pace to avoid a crowded looking street that looks to have a car crash and an onslaught of on lookers on it. You don’t take one look at the reanimated corpse who stumbles out the car and bites an onlooker, you just carry on rushing back to your flat, a bad feeling taking over you.

Passing burning buildings not yet entirely engulfed in flames but getting there and all the cars normally parked on the sides of the road gone from their owners trying to escape the city you finally get your apartment complex, the big double doors barricaded shut, a cabinet pushed against the fragile glass.

You wonder up to the door to see if someone is near the metal letterboxes or if the janitor’s closet is open with the janitor taking a break. Leaning your head on the glass you look around but no one is there to help you get inside.

“Hel-“ you begin to speak, your hands clutching the straps to your backpack but you stop yourself, the odd feeling of dread making your stomach do back flips.

Stepping backwards you hear a blood curdling scream.

You whip around to see a woman coved in blood crying and crawling out of the spinning doors of the fancier apartment complex just a bit down the street, her voice screaming a croaky ‘help’ to no one in particular.

“Don’t be a coward (y/n), you’re a nursing student, go help her!” the voice in your mind urges you.

Freezing still in front of the barricaded glass doors you look on to the speck that is the screaming woman, your hands clutching at you backpack straps so much that that the plastic fabric irritates your skin.

White doctor daps step backwards and not forwards, the tarmac scuffing your shoes.

You’re too scared to help the woman.

A loud moan like growl reverberates the ground, you look to your left at the glass doors to see a person, no, a dead man walking. He tries to walk to the door the furniture blocking the door making him slump over, only his hands touch the brittle glass.

The noise of gargling blood, the sight of his glassy dead eyes, the absence of a left arm, it makes you panic. You desperately look around for anything, anyone, any opening to escape all the while the dead get closer and closer.

Finally you spot the side alley, well it’s technically a whole road that leads to another street but with all the rubbish and filth only police cars and rubbish trucks drive down it. Apparently your block of flats used to look over a nice patch of grass that was a park but a couple years before you moved in they had built more buildings grey and dull blocking out the sun light.

Passed the rubbish bins you see the fire escape, the same fire escape that leads up to your window.

You look one more look at the dead man banging his head on the cracking glass, then one more look at the now quiet woman slumped on the ground, back to one look at the dark alleyway, you know what you have to do.

You bolt.

Dodging black bags of gooey trash and a hoard of skittering rats you clamber up the frail rusted frame of the fire escape. You take two steps at a time up the stairs each step rattling and swaying the old structure. You do not look back as trampled footsteps echo out in the street nor do you dare look into the passing windows, some covered in bloodied handprints.

Soon enough you get to your window, your flat on the fifth floor a welcomed sight to see.

The old wooden windows are slowly rotting away and the locks are permanently broken. You’re thankful that you hadn’t bothered locking the make do lock you drilled and secured in the window, the blocky hinged lock looking locked deterring any burglars from coming in.

Leon had said that he’d happily fix the window for you when he was settled in the city but considering what is happening you don’t care all that much for the lock, only that your friend is ok.

With a couple of rattles and a whole load of upper arm strength you slide the window up. There is just about enough space to fit in, though you’re going to have to suck in your tummy to do so and you’re going to have to shove your backpack in first.

You do just that, the backpack falling off the counter onto the floor with a thud, then you squeeze yourself through, your hips hurting as you force yourself in, your ass landing on the draining board next to the sink.

“Fuck.” You mutter as you bang your body on the hard surface, your feet hitting the ground as you push off the counter.

As soon as you are stable you lock the window the fastest you’ve ever done, closing the blinds along with it, doing that partly so no one can see you inside but also partly so you don’t have to see the outside world.

You’re finally home but you’re scared as hell.

Automatically you go to your rotary phone hanging on the wall.

You pick up the receiver, your fingers automatically dialling Leon’s home phone.

There is no ringing or waiting sound.

The phone line is dead.

A/N: If you want a part two please send in an ask rather than commenting for another part, this is just because asks are an easier way for me to track requests. Comments are still welcomed and requests are open!

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil #resident evil x reader #resident evil 2 #resident evil 2 remake #plus size reader #x plus size reader #chubby reader #x chubby reader

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 2 months

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Throwback Thursday: National Pi Day Meet Cute

Note: This story was first posted on March 14, 2018. Given that it is once again National Pi Day, I was persuaded to repost.

Title: National Pi Day Meet Cute

Fandom: Captain Swan

Rating: G

Words: 1678

Summary:

When Mary Margaret Blanchard finds out her grandson has a very single, very handsome math teacher, she devises a way to create a sweet little meet cute between her daughter, Emma, and said math teacher.

Tagging a few people who may be interested (Let me know if you want to be added or taken off the list): @sailormew4 @annaamell @flslp87 @emmateo26 @bethacaciakay @ultraluckycatnd @effulgent-mind @ilovemesomekillianjones @kat2609 @brooke-to-broch @missgymgirl @galadriel26 @the-lady-of-misthaven @charmingturkeysandwich @jennjenn615 @laschatzi @kimmy46 @snowbellewells @iamanneenigma @daxx04 @nickillian @gillie @britishguyslover @ginnyjinxedandhanshotritafirst @kmomof4 @linda8084 @golfgirld @captain-swan-coffee @searchingwardrobes @hollyethecurious @laughswaytoomuch @allyourdarlingswans @winterbaby89 @facesiousbutton82 @therooksshiningknight @lfh1226-linda @tiganasummertree @jrob64 @anmylica @booksteaandtoomuchtv @i-will-sing-no-requiem @bluewildcatfanatic @laianely

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Bye mom!” Henry yelled, as he hopped out of Emma’s yellow bug, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and started sprinting toward his friends. “See you after school!”

Emma waved him off, smiling as she saw her son catch up with a few of his friends, talking animatedly. It had been nearly a month since the two of them had moved to the sleepy little town of Storybrooke, Maine. Emma had worried that moving Henry halfway through his sixth grade year would be difficult, but her precocious little eleven-year-old had taken to small town living like a duck to water. He’d made more friends than he knew what to do with, and he absolutely loved school.

The smile slid from Emma’s face as she looked at the fresh-out-of-the-oven apple pie sitting on the passenger seat before her.

The problem with having a preteen who loved school is that he talked about it. A lot. And one of the people he talked about more than any other was his absolute favorite teacher, Mr. Jones, who was, as Henry put it, “the best teacher in the whole world”.

When Emma and Henry had left New York for Storybrooke, the two of them had moved in with her mom and dad, David and Mary Margaret Blanchard, at least until they got settled. When Henry started talking about Mr. Jones, Mary Margaret had perked up. When he told her that Mr. Jones was single and “old like mom”, Emma had groaned.

Emma knew she’d never get another moment’s peace.

“Emma,” Mary Margaret had said one morning, a conniving look in her eyes. “It’s really important you be involved in Henry’s education. Don’t you think you should meet his teachers? Maybe we should have one of them over for dinner one night. How about, oh, I don’t know…Mr. Jones?”

Emma pinched the bridge of her nose. “Look mom,” she said, “I get what you’re doing, but I’m not looking for a relationship. I did the whole ‘fall in love’ thing about twelve years ago, and Neal Cassidy cured me from any desire to ever do it again.”

“But not every guy is like Neal,” Mary Margaret said earnestly. “Not every guy is going to leave you. And love is so worth it when you find the right guy.”

Emma muttered something about needing to get some work done before she went into the office, hoping her mom would drop the subject.

No such luck.

Last night, Mary Margaret had come up with her most brilliantly evil plan yet, and what’s worse, she’d gotten Henry involved.

“Hey mom,” Emma said as she returned to the loft after her day at the sheriff’s station. “Something smells good.”

Mary Margaret shot her the kind of smile that Emma knew was trouble. “So Henry came home from school today and told me that tomorrow is National Pi Day. I was thinking I ought to do something to celebrate. I thought I would make a pie for his math teacher, Mr. Jones—you know his very single, very handsome and very eligible teacher? You know because….pie for Pi Day?”

Emma groaned.

“And…” Mary Margaret said in a way that made Emma sure she didn’t want to hear what came next, “I was thinking maybe you could take the pie to Mr. Jones.”

“Mom…”

“Yeah!” Henry said, coming in and swiping an apple slice from the bowl where his grandma was tossing them with cinnamon and sugar. “Mom, Mr. Jones would love it, and I can’t carry the pie in myself! I’d look like a loser!”

“Since when does pie make you look like a loser?” Emma asked.

“Mom!” Henry said, drawing out the single syllable and following it with an eyeroll. “I can’t take a pie to a teacher. I’ll look like a teacher’s pet!”

“He’s right, Emma,” Mary Margaret said solemnly. “Middle school is a brutal place. You don’t want your son to be ostracized, do you?”

Emma sighed, shaking her head at the two. She knew when she was beat, and with the two of them ganging up on her, she was most definitely beat. “Fine. I’ll take the pie to Mr. Jones.”

And so here she was, bright and early on National Pi Day, weaving her way through a sea of rowdy pre-teens, looking for room 108, where Mr. Perfect himself would be waiting.

Mr. Perfect she scoffed to herself. The man was a math teacher, a math teacher who was passionate about his topic. Just about screamed nerd didn’t it? There was probably a very good reason he was very single.

She stopped just outside the door and took a deep breath. She’d get this over with, and then be able to go home and tell her matchmaking mother that her meddlesome schemes had failed miserably.

“Mr. Jones?” she said, knocking on the doorframe, and looking in at the man whose back was turned to her as he worked on his computer.

Mr. Jones turned around, and for a moment Emma forgot to breath, though she’s pretty sure she gasped so loudly her mom could hear it all the way from the loft. Mr. Jones was quite possibly the most beautiful man she had ever seen in her life.

He gave her an appreciative grin, getting to his feet and coming to meet her with an outstretched hand. “Mr. Killian Jones at your service. And who might you be, love?”

Great! Not only was he hotter than any many had a right to be, but he had a smooth, British accent as well. Butterflies started doing the polka in her stomach.

“Love?” He said again, and it was only then that Emma realized she’d been staring, mouth hanging open, at the man in front of her for a solid two minutes.

She shook her head. Emma! Get a grip!

“Sorry,” she said, hating the slightly husky sound of her voice. “I’m Emma Swan. My son Henry is in one of your sixth grade math classes.”

“Henry!” Mr. Jones said. “I must admit he’s one of my favorites. What can I do for you Mrs. Swan?”

“Miss,” Emma said, lamely, surprised and annoyed by how hard she was finding it to string two words together in a coherent fashion.

“Beg pardon?”

“It’s Miss Swan,” Emma said. Henry’s dad and I…well, let’s just say we haven’t been together since before he was born and leave it at that.”

He grinned at her from beneath heavily hooded eyes, and the look made her heart skip a beat. The amount of gorgeous this man was displaying should be illegal. It really should. “I must say, I’m rather glad to hear it. So what brings you to my classroom, love, though I’m hardly complaining about a lovely and single woman coming to visit me?”

Emma felt the blush covering her face. She averted her eyes, desperately looking for a way to get ahold of herself. Her eyes landed on the item she was holding. “Uh, I came to give you this. Henry thought you might like a pie for National Pi Day, because, you know, pie, Pi?”

He laughed, and Emma looked up, admiring the dimples in his scruff-covered cheeks, the tiny lines around his shockingly blue eyes. “I’ll accept this happily on one condition.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“You simply must stay and have a slice with me,” he said gesturing toward his desk.

“Don’t you have, you know classes to teach and stuff?” Emma asked.

“Aye,” Killian said, “but as it happens, first period is my prep period, so I’m all yours for the next hour.”

“I don’t know…”

“I insist,” Killian said. “You, no doubt have heard about me from your son, but I know next to nothing about his mother. Just who are you, Swan?”

Emma grinned, giving him a flirtatious look. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Perhaps I would,” he answered with a wink that did not turn her insides to mush. (It absolutely turned her insides to mush.)

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

An hour and a half later, Emma pulled up in front of her parents’ apartment building, dropped her head onto her hands on the steering wheel and groaned.

She and Killian had fallen into easy conversation over their pie, and just before she left, he’d asked her out to dinner that night, insisting he must return the favor.

She’d said yes almost before the sentence was complete. She had a date with her son’s (hot) math teacher.

There would be no living with her mother after this.

~The End~

Notes:

--Happy National Pi Day! When I heard on the radio this morning that we were celebrating that particular holiday, it brought back to mind something that happened to me several years ago. My sister had a single math teacher who was around my age. My mom decided that he would be absolutely perfect for me. (Why? I don’t know; she hadn’t even met the guy. All she knew was that he was my age and single, lol.). So she came up with this brilliant, devious plan to create a little meet cute. She made a pie for the guy for National Pi Day, called me at my apartment, and asked if I would take my baby sister into school that morning and take the pie to her eligible bachelor of a teacher. I rolled my eyes and agreed to do it. Sadly, my story has an anti-climactic ending. When I got to the classroom, Mr. Perfect was not there, so I ended up just setting the pie on his desk and leaving. I never did meet the math teacher, which is fine with me. We must not affirm our mothers in their crazy matchmaking schemes, lol.

--But, as that story came to mind, I realized it, like so many other things, would make a very interesting CS au. So happy pi day, everyone! I wish you all drop dead gorgeous, blue eyed, black haired, ginger-bearded math teachers to make your Pi Day complete!

#throw back thursday #captain swan fanfiction #cs au #my fanfiction

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kstewdeux · 1 year

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@inukag-week 2023 | June 2 | Prompt “Heat”

Summary: Inuyasha has a collection.

Read here or on Ao3

Drifting lazily to the scuffed tile, the pressed wildflower seemed out of place amidst the chaos of the halls. It belonged in a long forgotten meadow. In another time and place.

‘Sango must’ve put it in here and forgotten it,’ Kagome thought absently as she knelt down - the chemistry textbook hanging limply by her side. Despite lacking any evidence, the instant conclusion comes as easily as breathing - in and out without any real thought on the matter. In the commotion of the students trying to make it to their next class, she almost missed the three others that gracefully cascaded from their hiding place. What Kagome found strangest of all was that she hadn’t brought this particular textbook to the feudal era in weeks. The fact that the flowers had been undisturbed too was also rather damning. A reminder of how very screwed she was academically. One of her hardest subjects and she hadn’t given it a second thought until this morning.

‘Well guess I’m failing chemistry then,’ Kagome thought bitterly as she carefully gathered the delicate flowers up and lightly tucked them back between the pages. She’d be the last to admit it but the idea of just dropping out had crossed her mind more than once. At this rate, with how far behind she was in literally all of her classes, she’d probably have to repeat the grade anyway.

But dousing her life in the modern era with gasoline, lighting a match and walking away wasn’t an option. There was always a chance the Well would stop working and who knew which side she’d get trapped in. With the jewel almost complete, time was running out and giving up now was a luxury she couldn’t afford. One way or another, a coin flip was going to determine the trajectory of her life and she knew, she just knew it was going to hurt either way.

Yeah, okay, so….

Sango wasn’t the one pressing flowers in her textbook. The first thing the slayer had done was gasp about how pretty they were and the second was ask Kagome where she got them.

This reaction raised so many questions because now the suspects were (a) a lecherous monk, (b) a child who managed to get a new girlfriend in every village they visited and (c) Inuyasha. Option C was immediately dismissed which left Miroku and Shippo.

God, she hoped it was Shippo. If Miroku was meticulously preparing and then handing out flowers to pretty girls, Sango was going to lose her mind. With the kit, at least there was the possibility he was just a kid doing an art project.

Setting down her textbook with the flowers tucked safely inside, Kagome casually walked over to the little boy who was busy ‘hunting’ a beetle in the grass.

“Hey Shippo?” she asked and large green eyes looked up at her, “I found some pretty flowers. Do you want to see them?”

He’d smiled then said ‘no thanks’ and crouched down with his tiny booty wiggling in the air. The fact that he wasn’t interested wasn’t exactly surprising nor did it prove anything but somehow she managed to reach a conclusion anyway. For one, Shippo would’ve mentioned something by now if he had hidden flowers away in her textbook. Two, Shippo preferred drawing to crafts. And , of course, three was that Shippo had never been interested in flowers.

Sighing softly, Kagome gracefully got to her feet and began looking around for Miroku. A movement to her right caught her eye. Inuyasha. Reaching casually for her textbook without stopping, quickly flipping to the exact place where she’d hidden the flowers and then carefully putting the book back down. The whole action hadn’t taken more than ten seconds and he’d barely paused in his stride.

Chewing the inside of her cheek, Kagome continued to watch. A handkerchief was discreetly pulled out from inside his robe, opened and the flowers were delicately put in. The movement was fast, smooth and easy to miss if you weren’t looking directly at him.

Okay. So…Inuyasha was pressing flowers for some reason. The question now became why. Was it a hobby? Did it have to do with scent like some type of makeshift cologne? Was it something he’d always done? How long-

Hey, wait a minute, that was her handkerchief!

No one said she was a rational human being all the time. Nobody said she didn’t have impulse control or that she didn’t have a temper. No one said she thought this through.

“You took my handkerchief!” Kagome gasped angrily as she began storming over to an Inuyasha who froze like a deer in the headlights.

“What are you talking about? No I didn’t!” he hissed back even though his hand flew up to his chest like he was protecting something, “You’re seeing things woman.”

“Okay. Then what are you hiding in there?” Kagome challenged and a flash of panic zoomed behind his eyes.

“Hiding where?!”

“In your shirt stupid!”

“Where would I even be keeping it?!” Inuyasha scoffed defensively, “What? You think I sewed a pocket in there or something?”

That was exactly what he’d done but there was no way in hell he was telling her that. So what if he’d decided to start collecting things, huh? That was a thing people did. No one got mad at Sango for her weird collection of knives or at Miroku for stockpiling so many sutras that his robes were weighed down. And what about Shippo? Kagome had a whole folder in her room filled with all the drawings the kid made. What was so bad about wanting to collect something of his own? He liked scents, okay? It only made sense that he’d collect flowers and…other things that smelled good. It didn’t hurt nobody and it was nobody’s business.

Kagome narrowed her eyes and Inuyasha winced. Maybe he shouldn’t’ve thrown the idea of pockets out there. Also maybe he shouldn’t be pressing his hand against said pocket but a part of him was terrified about the possibility of losing the first things he’d ever owned. His little flower collection was the only thing he hadn’t inherited. The first thing he made with his own hands. What made the collection more special was that they had no real value. They weren’t worth anything. Not really. They were pretty and they smelled good. Ergo, the pressed flowers were a luxury.

He was at a place in his life where he could afford luxuries.

“Why did you steal it?” Kagome sighed - reigning in her anger and folding her arms across her chest.

“I didn’t steal shit,” Inuyasha countered as he stiffly lowered his hand and copied her posture. Technically speaking what he said was true and now the flowers suddenly became secondary to the most precious piece of his collection. She would need to tear that handkerchief out of his cold dead hands and he’d rather die than admit why he wanted it so bad. Besides, it wasn’t hers anymore and he’d put way too much effort into making sure it smelled right all of the time and he needed it. Actually needed it and she’d probably lose it like she lost it the first time.

“So you’re lying to me now?”

Despite his resolve, Inuyasha winced again and his stomach churned.

“Does this have anything to do with the flowers in my textbook?” she challenged before immediately regretting bringing it up at all. Inuyasha turned a little green and fear flickered across his face. Silence fell over the camp. A quick glance confirmed that each and every one of their friends - including Kilala - were now watching the showdown.

“W-what flowers?” he managed but his voice cracked and his ears flattened against his skull. Kagome’s anger faded away as quickly as it’d arrived and she slowly straightened up.

“Are you…are you collecting them?” she asked curiously - her voice horrifically soft. Inuyasha’s chest began heaving in mild panic.

“N-no. Why would I d-do that?”

Kagome chewed her lip for a second - her eyes searching his pale face before a warm smile played with her lips.

“You know what? Never mind,” she hummed - her voice gentle and calm - before moving over to her textbook and backpack, “Hey Sango? Can I borrow Kilala? I forgot something at-“

“You’re leaving over this?!” Inuyasha squeaked out as he quickly moved to her side with half a mind to grab her, “Seriously?!”

“I just forgot something. That’s all. I’ll be back before dark,” Kagome promised and the affectionate look in her eye confused him endlessly. It was almost like she understood something he really didn’t want her to understand quite yet. Shit, he hadn’t even fully come to terms with it and he did not feel ready.

In his panic, Inuyasha was powerless to stop her - even without the sit spell. Sango was pissed because, obviously, Kagome had left because of their fight. Shippo wouldn’t stop badgering him and demanding to see his collection no matter how vehemently denied its existence. Miroku just seemed amused.

It was after dark, for the record, when Kagome finally came back and, of course, the first thing she did was come find him presumably to start fighting all over again. A part of Inuyasha wanted to cry but he refused to make matters worse by shedding tears. He just wanted something nice. Why couldn’t he have nice-

Kneeling down in front of him, Kagome shrugged off her backpack and began digging through it. A few things were pulled out.

“Okay. So I got this little plastic sleeve. Waterproof, you know?” she began as she glanced up and gave him a soft smile, “To protect the non-existent flower collection.”

Before he could stop himself, Inuyasha’s defensive posture relaxed and he crouched down.

“W-wha-“

“And this,” she continued as she pulled out a square book and flipped through the glossy pages, “Is for if you decide you want to show them off. We call it a scrap book in my time. I took the liberty of getting some paper already but you’ll need to use these-“

She reached down and grabbed a sheet of odd clear dots, “To hold the flower in place. So they don’t fall out.”

Inuyasha blinked a few times like his mind was having trouble comprehending what was happening.

“I know it’s a little bulky and if you don’t like the paper we can go buy something different. And it won’t fit in your non-existent pocket,” she continued, “But I could put it in my backpack. Or we could keep it with Kaede or even in my room if you want.”

Inuyasha finally reached for the book with trembling fingers and sat down on the grass.

“It’s scents. Nice scents,” he whispered sheepishly as he lovingly ran his fingers over the matte floral cover, "T-that's all."

With a soft laugh, Kagome smiled. She almost looked like she’d just won some sort of victory but he didn’t care beyond knowing he was the real winner here. Still, he should probably say something like a ‘thank you’. Give a peace offering. A shuddering breath followed as he thumbed through the pages and glanced at the pretty paper staring up at him through plastic, “M’sorry. For lying. I never had anything of my own before and I-I just-“

“Well, now you also have a book,” Kagome offered - tucking a few stray hairs behind her ear before continuing, “You don’t even have to put the flowers in there if you don’t want to. You can put whatever you-“

Inuyasha dipped forward and pressed a brief chaste kiss against her lips before turning his attention back to the book and delicately pulling her handkerchief out of his secret pocket. It took the miko a good minute to regain brain function.

“S-so I’m gunna assume that was you saying thank you?” she managed - her voice coming out slightly panicked and high pitched. Inuyasha nodded absently as he gingerly unfurled the white napkin and laid out the dozen or so flowers on top of it.

“Can you show me how to do it right? I don't want to break them,” he asked breathlessly as he glanced up at her - eyes bright and excitement showing plain in his face. It was the most precious thing Kagome had ever seen.

She smiled.

“Yeah. Yeah I can do that."

A pause.

"So, does this mean I can have my handkerchief back?"

Not even bothering to look up from his delicate task, Inuyasha snorted and shook his head.

"Nope, part of the collection.”

#inukag week 2023 #inukag week #inukag #inuyasha x kagome #inuyasha fanfiction #inukag fluff #scrapbooking #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3

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jimblejamblewritings · 2 years

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romeo and...cullen? | part 4.

Summary: Y/N Cullen, youngest in both actual age and last to be turned in the Cullen clan. Her world is turned upside down when Bella Swan enters her family’s life, because Bella doesn’t bring just herself but drags some of her friends into the Cullen’s life as well.

Warnings for the Series: light violence, light angst, light smut

Pairing: Jacob Black x reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Previous Part | (Series Masterlist)

You shook the empty cup of your milkshake, frowning a little. You removed your head from Jacob’s shoulder.

“Did I mention how I came to the Cullens?” you asked, looking at him from the corner of your eye.

“No, I don’t think you did.”

“My parents died in a car crash… my whole family actually. There were five of us. Two brothers, one older one younger.”

“Oh my God, (Y/N). I’m so sorry.”

“It’s, it’s fine. We were visiting family in Maine and some drunk trucker was on my dad’s tail and wouldn’t ease up, next thing I know our whole car’s flipped upside and then I’m suddenly in the care of Dr. Carlisle Cullen. Um, Edward was saving me and Bella from some douches and his driving was just a little too fast… I still get trauma from time to time. It’s nothing really, it’s stupid.”

“No, I don’t think that. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“How are you?” Your family asked when you walked in the house.

Jacob had dropped you off at the edge of the woods and you kept all thoughts of him dropping you off away so Edward couldn’t hear you and alert the family. You weren’t one to go hunting, preferring the blood bags Carlisle made but catching a couple squirrels before entering the house helped push thoughts of Jake and his family out of your head and brought in nothing but hunting instincts.

“Exhausted and I wish I could sleep.”

“Sorry sis, perks of being a vamp.”

Emmett patted the empty spot in between him and Edward. You sat down before completely flopping, resting your head in Edward’s lap and your feet in Emmett’s. Rosalie sat on the floor in front of you and you played with her hair with your free hand.

“What are we watching tonight?”

“Bollywood movie marathon. My choice,” Rosalie said.

Coven nights like this were the only fun ones to you as a vampire. You didn’t like to be alone. What you really wished was that you could drift off to sleep and dream instead. But at least you had some sort of family around.

You jumped back quickly as Bella’s truck suddenly backed up in her driveway. You were catching a ride with her at her insistence. Your friend stuck her head out the window at breakneck speed.

“Woah, woah, Bells. Is this revenge for not pushing you out of the way from Tyler’s van.”

“Sorry! I thought I had the brake on.”

“No harm, no damage done,” You joked as you walked around to the passenger’s side.

“Aren’t you cold?” Bella looked down at your choice of dress, just a sweater and some shorts.

“Eh, not really. Forks’ usually worse than this. Ugh, school is going to be so boring today.” You said as you looked in her sideview mirror to apply your mascara.

“All my sophomore classes today, some grade training stuff I’m required to attend. Started to forget I wasn’t in your grade.”

“Think of it as a rest day, they only need you to take the subject tests to boost the sophomore classes average. Everyone knows your grade is the dumbest.”

“Unh-unh, girl, don’t associate me with the rest of them.”

The two of you laughed.

“At least the school’s making you guys pizza for lunch as compensation for your struggles, even if it kinda tastes like cardboard. Grab me a slice, will you.”

“No can do, Bells.”

“Hmm?”

“Jacob’s picking me up for lunch. We’re getting real pizza.”

“You two have been hanging out a lot recently.”

“Have we?”

“Yeah, you have. Is something going on between the two of you?”

“Between Jacob and I? I don’t know, we’re just friends. I don’t know, I just like hanging out with Jacob, kinda chill to have someone not from school you know… what?”

Bella had a smug smile on her face. “The fact that you’ve said his name multiple times definitely means something’s going on. Whether you see it or not.”

“Whatever, Bells. Anyway, lunch off campus so no pizza for you.”

“Hey um… are your siblings going to be at lunch today. Jess said when it’s nice out your dad…”

“Only if it’s really sunny.” You cut her off. “Weather’s alright today, so they should be there. Why?”

Bella’s thumbs drummed against the steering wheel and you watched her gulp as she pulled into the parking lot. Bella put the car in park and slumped back in her seat.

“I, I…I know something’s going on with your family. And don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. Edward doesn’t say anything either. What’s going on?”

“Oh no, this is between you and my brother, Bella. Let me know how it goes. I’ve got some subject exams to take.”

You swung your backpack over your shoulder and hopped out the truck. The subject exams bored you out of your mind. You finished along with the other smart kids in your grade, the small group of you guys headed out of homeroom way earlier than how long you knew the other kids would be staying. Your phone vibrated in your back pocket, you didn’t look as you answered with a bored “hello” while making your way to the front office to sign out.

“You sound a little worn out, Loca. Seems like you need some energy. And your pizza delivery boy is waiting right outside one Forks High School.”

“I swear you are honestly a life saver right now,” you cheerily greeted the boy holding a large to-go box of pizza.

“Freshly made by Max with an extra fluffy crust I heard you liked.”

“This is exactly what I needed, Jacob.”

“You can just call me Jake you know… Is that your brother and Bella?” Jake looked past you.

You followed his gaze to see Bella following Edward up a hill into the forest. “Yeah, there’s something going on I guess. I don’t get Edward sometimes.”

Jacob nodded absentmindedly. “Well let’s eat before the pizza gets cold.”

Jacob pulled his car off to the side of the main road that led into Forks. He parked far enough that half the car was on the edge of the forest line so any random cars could pass with no problem. The two of you got out of the car and sat on the front hood, the pizza box in between you.

Jacob took off his jean jacket and placed it over your bare legs like a blanket, assuming you were cold which if you were human would probably be correct. You watched as he took your spare scrunchie from around his wrist and pulled his hair back before digging in, the action making you smile to yourself a bit.

“Wait wait so it’s you, Jared, Quil, Embry, and baby Seth.”

“Yeah, those are the boys,” Jacob said taking a bite of pizza.

“And you idiots really dared Quil to enter into the Little Miss Washington Pageant?”

“What? His cousin was sick, couldn’t let all that hard work on her dress go to waste. Quil loved it, the costumes not the performing for other people. Never forgave us for forcing him on stage.” Jacob couldn’t stop laughing.

“I wouldn’t either, you guys are mean!” you tried to scold but were also laughing.

“How were we supposed to know about the stage fright?”

“You’re friends sound crazy.”

“I’ll have to introduce you to the rest at some point. And Seth’s been nagging my ear off to hang out again when you aren’t so sad.”

You two heard the quick whoop of a siren and then a car stopped in front of you.

“Hi Chief Swan,” you greeted the officer as he stepped out the cruiser.

“(Y/N). Jake. Don’t you two kids have class?”

You waved a pink slip from your back pocket. “Sophomores had subject tests today. Finished early. I’m off-duty, Chief.”

“Right, you take a lot of advanced classes don’t you. Alright, Miss Cullen you’re off the hook. What about you, son?”

“Res lunch runs long, Charlie. Just taking the lady out for a bite.”

“Hope she’s not being a bad influence.” You rolled your eyes at Charlie’s joke.

“Not at all sir,” Jacob joked.

“Okay, kids. Have a good lunch. And Jacob? Get back to school after lunch. I’ll hold you accountable (Y/N) if he doesn’t.”

You gave Charlie a mini salute as the police chief got back in his car and drove off. Jake jogged over to the back of his car and brought back a small bag that you hadn’t noticed before.

“Seth’s mom, Sue, made cake for Harry’s birthday yesterday. Saved you a slice after you texted about lunch.”

Jacob stood with his back to the car and untied the bag to reveal a small Tupperware container of strawberry cake with a fork. You dug into the cake practically moaning as you tasted it.

“This is so good.”

You had eaten a significant portion of the slice. Jacob moved from where he was leaning against his car to being right in front of you, placing his hands on either side of you on the car hood. Placing most of his weight one one hand, Jacob used the other to grab the fork from you and take a bite of the cake. He told you more stories about his childhood in La Push while you finished the cake.

“I take it you liked the cake.” Jacob watched you gently place the Tupperware container next to you.

“Tell Seth’s mom, I pay so many compliments to the chef. Man, I’m so much about the Res.”

“Maybe I could see about them making an exception for you. I think my dad’s slowly opening up.”

“My family, Jake… maybe,” you trailed off.

You didn’t want to shoot Jacob down because you wanted to go into La Push yourself but you also didn’t want to give him any false hope. You honestly could never see the elders giving a Cullen any exception, even one that had never touched a drop of human blood in your entire time of being undead.

“Well we won’t know until I try right. Hey, (Y/N)…” Jacob pulled back slightly before shifting his weight completely back to his hands.

“Yeah, Jake?”

“I wanna try something.” Jacob leaned in until his lips were almost brushed against yours. “Stop me if you’re uncomfortable.”

Jacob waited a beat. When you didn’t make a move to stop him, he pressed his lips gently against yours before pulling away.

(Part 5)...

#jacob black x reader #twilight fic

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musicalchaos07 · 8 months

Text

Any day can be WIP Wednesday if you're brave enough

“Sooo Claire” Nancy elongates, trying to sound as casual about his potential romance as possible even if there’s a pain in her chest where her heart’s supposed to be. “Oh uh you heard about that” Jonathan laughs nervously. “Yea I'm pretty sure the school whole knows” she informs, hoping it doesn’t sound as harsh. “Great” he snarks wiping away some eraser shavings. “So” she presses “So what?” he ignores “You know what” she counters, he’s being mum on the subject because of course he is but if she just pushes him a little further she’ll get what he wants. “No I really don't” Jonathan maintains, not breaking eye contact with his work. She bites her lip and focuses on her own textbook again, maybe she's gone too far. Then she thinks maybe she's finally lost it because if she didn't know better she would swear that Jonathan's beat up converse just nudged her shoe. “Are you going to go with her?” Nancy asks suddenly panicked, like Homecoming is even half as dire as monster hunting. Though if you ask Steve it is. “I mean I don't see a reason why I shouldn't” he mumbles. She imagines the soft tap again as she tries to think of vile things to say about Claire to change his mind. He clears his throat, catching her attention. “There's no reason why I shouldn't, right?” He asks loudly, well loud for him. She hesitates. Because no one else understands her like he does. Because she'd run away with him and ruin her life if he asks. Because the curves of his shy smile have been burned into her mind since the seventh grade. Because they're supposed to be together, she just fucked it up. Because she loves him doesn't he know that she loves him? “No” she lies with a sniffle, bumping her foot against his under the table. Jonathan drops his pencil and turns his attention to her. She looks into his eyes and the rest of the library falls away leaving just the two of them. Suddenly she's back on his mom's beat up sofa waiting for him to make a move. Except this time he's waiting for her. It would be almost too easy, to reach out and get what she really wants, he's so close already. She wonders if she guides him back to the encyclopedias and slams her lips onto his pretty mouth, if Steve would even notice their rumpled sweaters. “Nancy” Jonathan whispers, breaking her fantasy. She knows it's his way of scolding her for thinking about such things. The same way she knows he's thinking about it too. A lump forms in her throat and she thinks if there is a hell she must be in it. But really it's what she deserves, good girls don't lead their best friends to their death and bad girls don't get to kiss Jonathan Byers. She breaks their staring contest refocusing on her reading and Jonathan clears his throat going back to his math homework. As much as she knows that this is her divine punishment, she really can't stomach the idea of Claire Fucking Donahue getting to kiss Jonathan before her. “She said Mike looks like a frog once” she lies all at once overwhelmed with jealously Out of the corner of her eye she sees the faintest hint of a smile grow across Jonathan's perfectly kissable lips.

#“Dearie is this another pining Jancy fic set between s1 & s2?” YES OK THAT'S WHAT I WANNA WRITE RN #they're in my head being angsty and pining and I can't do anything about it #anyways Nancy wheeler in 1984 singing what's love got to do with it at the top of her lungs and Mike wondering if she's lost it #stranger things #jancy #nancy wheeler #jonathan byers #jancy fic #wip wednesday

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bumblesimagines · 2 years

Text

Before I go

Request: Yes or No

Based off this

~~~

Fate had an interesting sense of humor. It listened to the whispers in the wind, watched the dreams that were created by children, saw the youth prepare for the future. And despite the happiness that flourished in the hearts of many, fate chose to destroy it. Many saw it as challenges or lessons for the future. A minor hiccup like a breakup or a bad grade. Things that could people could overcome with time.

How desperately you wished you were simply going through a breakup, dealing with a shitty grade in class, or even being in the aftermath of an accident. Instead, you sat at your desk, letters dedicated to loved ones scattered around. Fate hadn’t broken a relationship or given you a hard earned lesson. It had put death in your future, and if there were a lesson to be learned then you were the subject.

Fate had always been cruel to you, even when you smiled through the pain or spent birthdays alone. It had always looked down at you; the sickly child with hopes for the future. You could only watch as your life was set in stone, powerless against fate and its destructive tendencies. No amount of prayers, pleas, or cries could change its mind.

Four months. The doctors had estimated it. Four months, and if you were lucky? A possibility at five or six that you’d spend confined to a hospital bed wishing you had left at the four month mark. Twenty-five years would be gone in four months. Twenty-five meaningless years. Twenty-five painful years yearning for good health and happiness. Twenty-five years of a whole lot of nothing.

Reaching forward, you collected the papers and set them in a neat stack, hearing the front door open and the familiar grumbling of the man who lived next door. With a sigh, you left the bedroom and smiled, greeting him with a soft good morning.

“Have you eaten yet?”

“No.”

“(Y/N), you have to eat breakfast. You need the energy for the day or else you’ll feel tired. You’ll only feel worse on an empty stomach.” You could only smile at his light scolding, following him into the kitchen and sitting as he rummaged through your fridge.

“I’ll go grocery shopping later.”

“No, I can do it.” You assured him with a smile. “It’ll give me a chance to stretch my legs and get some sunshine.”

Felipe pursed his lips and nodded. “I guess.” He took out the carton of eggs and some bacon, setting the last two eggs on the counter, dropping the carton into the trashcan.

Listening to the sizzling sound and inhaling the mouth watering scent of bacon, you felt your body relax. Moments like these with Felipe made everything tolerable. A moment of peace with no pain or worries.

“Coffee?”

“Orange juice.” You took the plate from him, sprinkling the salt and pepper onto the sunny side up egg. Using the fork to cut the yolk, you dipped a piece of bacon inside and popped it into your mouth, the crunching sound echoing in your ears.

“How are the boys?”

“Ez got patched in.” Felipe didn’t seem pleased and you couldn’t blame him. His wife died, his eldest joined a motorcycle gang, and the golden boy with a bright future followed in his brothers footsteps. You’d be disappointed too.

“Ez doesn’t know you still live here.” Felipe poured the orange juice into a glass, setting it down on the table and sitting across from you.

“Does he know about...” You trailed off, motioning to your head with a finger. Felipe pursed his lips and shook his head, intertwining his fingers across his stomach and leaning back.

“He should hear it from you.”

“I’m sure he’s got enough on his plate.”

“He’ll find out eventually, (Y/N). It’ll hurt more to see you in a hospital bed.” You exhaled through your nose and continued to eat. Felipe had a point; letting Ez find out you were sick so late would be cruel. Especially when he stuck by your side when you were younger.

“I’ll tell him.” You muttered, shoving the rest of the egg into your mouth and watching Felipe grimace. Chuckling softly, you stood up with the plate in hand and set the plate in the sink, grabbing the small notebook that sat atop of your fridge. You flipped through the pages until you got to a clean new page.

“You sure you want to do the shopping?”

“I am more than capable, Felipe.” You smiled at the man and opened the fridge, jotting down the things you were missing before checking the pantry.

“Remember-”

“Not to push myself too much and if I feel sick I need to call you.” You looked over your shoulder at him and smiled as the old man stood up. Felipe took his keys out of his pocket and left the kitchen, leaving the house as silently as he had arrived.

“Alright, (Y/N).” You quietly whispered to yourself, inhaling as you ripped the paper from the notebook. “How hard can it be? Just a quick trip to the store.”

Exhaling, you entered your room and changed, collecting your keys and folding the paper into a small square before sliding it into your pocket. You stepped out of the house, cringing at the brightness. You locked the front door and approached your car, getting inside and turning it on.

“Just a quick trip. Nothing will happen.” You reassured yourself, pulling out of the driveway and driving down the street. Turning out of the neighborhood, you felt yourself begin to relax as you listened to the radio.

The town had remained the same over the years; the rich thrived while the poor scrambled to keep themselves afloat. Violence lingered around every corner, especially with the cartel and Mayans keeping a tight grip on Santo Padre. Despite the violence, the town had a calming atmosphere to it. The people were kind and most would be happy to help a person in need.

Arriving at the store, you took a deep breath and shut the car off, getting out of the car and heading inside. Taking a basket, you walked down the aisles in search of what you needed. The sensation of a headache beginning to set in filled your body with more anxiety but you chose to ignore it in favor of getting more groceries. However, the headache continued growing and you quickly headed to check-out.

Other symptoms began settling in as you arrived home. Resting your head against the steering wheel, you took in a few deep breaths and opened the car door. Stepping out of your car and opening the trunk, you grabbed a few of the grocery bags and stepped back, heading towards your porch. However, your vision suddenly wavered and you stumbled slightly, shutting your eyes and hoping the random spout of dizziness would ease up long enough for you to head inside.

Suddenly, the weight of the grocery bags disappeared. Opening your eyes, you noticed a man heading up the porch and gingerly placing the bags down. The Mayans MC kutte caught your eye.

“You okay, mijo?” You turned your head to look at Felipe and gave him a tired smile.

“Always.” You responded softly, feeling his arms wrap around you and gently lead you to your house. You fished the keys out of your pocket, glancing over at the man as he went back to your car for the rest of the groceries.

“Is that Ez?” You asked quietly, unlocking the door and stepping inside. A grim look passed over Felipes features and he nodded, a deep sigh slipping past his lips. He led you to the couch and patted your arm as you sat down.

“I’ll get some coffee brewing.”

“I should be the one taking care of you, old man.” You called, hearing him grunt and head into the kitchen. The front door shut and you peeked over your shoulder, watching Ez’s tall figure walk towards the kitchen, grocery bags in hand.

Leaning back into the soft cushions, you took the folded blanket from the armrest and draped it over your body, shutting your eyes as a wave of nausea hit. You almost didn’t notice the soft brush of fingers against your shoulder until the cushion beneath you shifted slightly. Opening your eyes and turning your head, you smiled upon seeing the youngest Reyes.

“Hey, Mr. Popular.” You cooed and turned to face him. Despite the obvious physical changes, he still had that boyish look to him. He was still little Ezekiel. Your next door neighbor who always wanted to play and show you his trophies. The boy who would visit you in the hospital and help you with homework. The boy who eventually stopped visiting.

“If I had known you still lived here-”

“It’d be stupid to get mad at you for living your life, Ez. Your dad already goes out of his way, I don’t need you to put a stop on your life to do the same. You did that enough as a kid.” You assured him softly, reaching out to place your hand over his. His skin was warm to the touch and you found yourself tracing the veins on his hand.

“I should’ve sent a letter or visited when you got locked up.” You muttered, tugging the blanket further over your shoulder and bringing your knees up to your chest. Ez moved his hand to grab yours, running his thumb over the back of your hand.

“How bad is it?” He asked quietly, almost as if he were afraid to ask.

“Like.. four months to live bad.” You answered with a chuckle. Ez grimaced at your response and frowned, giving your hand a squeeze. Pressing his lips together, he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around you, chin resting on your head.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what, Ez? You didn’t give me this.”

“I know.. I.. Back in high school and when I went away for college. I- I should’ve tried to reach out more.” Pulling back, you scoffed softly and shook your head.

“You were living your life, Ez. You had friends, Emily, and school. I didn’t expect you to drop everything to make time for me. I would’ve felt a burden if you had.” You told him, offering him a reassuring smile.

“You shouldn’t spend the last few months sitting inside doing nothing.”

“If you’re gonna try to convince me to go skydiving with you, it won’t work.” The Mayan laughed at your words and shook his head.

“I meant check out some cities, go to the fair, take up a class.” Ez raised his hand and cupped your cheek, a soft smile appearing on his face.

“I want to help you experience new things.”

#x reader #x you #x y/n #x male reader #mayans mc x male reader #mayans mc x you #mayans mc x reader #mayans mc #ez reyes x male reader #ezekiel reyes x reader #ez reyes x you #ez reyes x reader #ez reyes #ezekiel reyes #felipe reyes #tw illness #tw terminal illness

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khai-luvs-to-write · 1 year

Text

Compromises

[A/N] this was made based off of a comment I made on a different fanfic (good luck trying to find it >:) also spoiler alert this takes place after the students move into dorms

It's been about...a year since you first enrolled into U.A. and about eight months since you were transferred into Class 1A, and three or four months since you moved into the dorms, you think...you can't remember.

The past few months have been eventful, to say the least, with everything that went on with your class alone. Sometimes you sit and wonder why the LOV is targeting your class specifically, and not the entire school. But at the same time, if you hadn't enrolled and got yourself into this mess of a class(no offense), you wouldn't have had the chance to meet all these amazing people along the way. You've made so many friends in not only your class, but at U.A. in general.

Not to mention, you met the boy you believe to be the love of your life.

You and the representative of your class, your loving boyfriend, Tenya Iida have been dating for a while. If you had to be technical, you'd say about, four or five months, you guys have been together, with no breaks. And boy, these have been the best four or five months of your life. He always makes sure you feel cared for, and important, and always respects you and your boundaries.

Although in certain spots, you guys are total opposites. You prefer, no, enjoy PDA, while he prefers and enjoys to be affectionate in private. He prefers to be ahead of schedule and study later lessons, while you prefer to watch the same shows for who knows how many times in a row just for "the fun of it". He prefers to eat healthy snacks, while you prefer to see how many bags of buttered popcorn you can eat before your lips go numb, and your tongue starts to tingle.

(this does not mean he is immune to the junk food you bring in. you can buy two whole bags of hot cheetos and he'd scold you for it and you'd catch him snacking on it at one or two in the morning because he couldn't sleep.)

No matter how different your personalities are from each other, you guys aren't afraid to talk it out, and make it work. For example, sometimes you two can be a ways from home, and can't just leave, but you're feeling really tired and everything's just draining you more than it usually would. In previous conversations, you expressed how important affection is to you, in some situations, as it helps ground you in scenarios where you may begin to shut down, or break down, depending on the circumstances. With that being said, when you're in that kind of predicament, and he notices you begin to shut down, he'll grab your hand and lightly brush the back of it with his thumb, just to let you know he's still here, and bring you back "Down to Earth", if you will.

Another example of a compromise you two agreed on is about your grades, and your skills.

You were aware that your grades weren't too great, but you still tried your hardest...you can't say that you got the results you were looking for. Iida found this out when you began showing up to class late, sleeping in class, etc. Everyone in class noticed that you were off, and your demeanor changed. He was worried for your physical and mental wellbeing, so after class he pulled you aside and asked if you were doing alright, and you can tell him if you need anything. After the entire class and some of your friends outside 1A and/or the Hero Course, you finally cave and tell him what was wrong. Because your grades have drastically dropped, you've been staying up really late studying, and still got the same results. Now knowing this, he agreed to help you almost immediately. Understanding that the both of you prefer to have a consistent schedule (somewhat, sometimes you'd forget, or have no motivation altogether), you two would take time to study 3 subjects (one assignment per subject) one day, and work out, and train the occasional other.

And with training, comes finding a way to settle down after raising your adrenaline, and heart rate. Your favorite way to do so is to do one of those cheesy self care dates you see all over the internet. You understand that taking care of yourself is important, but sometimes you forget so you thought that if you turn it into a date, you'd be motivated to do it more often. Because of this, your new usual nightly routine with Iida consists of showering (not together you guys are in high school EW), getting in your pajamas, you both bought each other a set to match yours, so you guys usually go to bed matching, regardless of the fact that you guys don't sleep in the same room, skincare, "bubble fights" (you guys usually end up throwing suds at each other because either you or him put a fat blob of soap on the one's nose, and then the other makes a desperate attempt to get back at them for it, causing suds and water to go everywhere surrounding the two of you), brushing your teeth, doing your hair(regardless of length, or texture [says someone with 4c hair ;-;] if you so desire, or if you have any) walking you to your dorm because he refuses to let you walk him to his dorm, for some reason you forgot. One more embrace for the night, kisses on the forehead, exchanges of "Goodnights" and "I love yous", before going your separate ways, until you inevitably see each other in the morning.

I don't know if this counted as a drabble, I just put my thoughts into a document lol would this be considered a drabble, or just a list of headcannons with extended bullet points?

Let me know what you guys prefer! Put in some requests!

1,018 words, including both author's notes.

#tenya iida x reader #my hero academia #iida x reader #tenya x reader #iida fluff #bnha fluff #bnha x gender neutral reader #mha drabbles #the love i have for this man oh my gosh #khai.writes #is this considered a drabble?#i should also tell you guys that I did post this on Wattpad #under my own account..this wasn't stolen lol

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