Bound to fall in love...

{Requests: open}

Pairing: Math girl reader x English boy Kazuha

╰┈➤ A/n: A little self indulgent. Yay first writing work thingy. Anyways, NAPLAN drained all my writing skills for today so sorry if its bad.

✎ Synopsis: When a girl who excels in math meets a boy who excels in English, they're bound to fall in love right? After all, opposites attract.

Headcanons + scenario

Genre: fluff

✎ Highschool au

TW: None

CW: Reader despises bad grades(they're an academic), reader bad at english, sumeru classes are like honour classes/i think ap classes if you're american(correct me if I'm wrong im not american), reader in sumeru classes, fluff.

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I think Kazuha gets slightly above average grades

Like Bs in everything but especially excells in english

Every english teacher's teacher pet

He doesn't even try to be on the teacher's good side, they just love him I mean he's really sweet and stuff so

Fails math though

Straight As in english but straight Ds in Math

Ok enough about him kinda

On the other hand you excel in every subject, especially math

almost every subject

You were in the sumeru classes so ofc you're book smart and stuff but

You only got one B in english your entire life, the rest were Cs

If only you could do as well in english as you did with math

Math was logical, it was simple, you always did more then the extension work that was given to you

But with english, you had to interpret the character or author's feelings

Know when to use figurative language and how to make your character appealing, interesting

While Kazuha's only sumeru class was english and he exceeded that curriculum

Struggling, with both subjects, the two of you eventually meet (Short scenario below)

"You got 10% on the math quiz again?" Venti said. "You have to pick up your grades soon Kazuha or else you'll never graduate."

"Your one to talk," Xiao scoffed, "Aren't you failing 3 subjects?" A small pout formed on Venti's face while Xiao continued eating his almond tofu.

The white haired boy laughed at his two friends. "At least I go an A on the english assignment," Kazuha said.

"If only your grades in math were as good as you grades in english," Aether chuckled.

"Aww you and (name) would make a good couple," Scara said sarcatically. "Making up for the other's flaw and all."

"Oh yeah!" Heizou said. "Why not just go and ask (Name) to tutor you," Heizou suggested.

"Ah but I don't want to trouble her," Kazuha said.

"I'm sure she won't mind and if you're still so concerned about troubling her, just tutor her for english," the blonde boy said. "Lumine said she's been struggling with the subject."

Kazuha hummed, staring down at his quiz paper.

"Urgh! Why can't I just get an A!" (Name) screamed, frustration written all over her face. She stuffed her assignment back into her bag, utterly defeated.

"Well, you got a B," Yunjin said,"that's an improvement."

"I know but it feels like I can't break this invisable wall and all my parents say is try harder," (Name) said. "Like thanks for the advice, I totally haven't been doing that this whole time!" she said, throwing her hands in the air.

"Why not get a tutor?" Lumine suggested.

"My parents don't believe in paying extra money for another person to teach me," (Name) sighed. The girl waved at her friends before entering her english classroom, placing her stuff onto her desk and taking a seat, waiting for the teacher to arrive and for another useless class to start.

"Um hey (Name) was it?" one of your classmates called out to you,"can I ask you a favour?" What was his name again? Ah! Kadehara Kazuha.

The boy pulled you outside the room full of overachievers to ask you if you could tutor him math and in return he'll help you in english

You accepted because well it was free tutoring and you didn't mind teaching him in return

"Ok but we'll have to study in a public place cause my parents don't allow strangers in the house and I'm not allowed to go to someone's house unless they've met them." - You

"Ok then." - Kazuha

And this is where the journey starts

You'd tutor each other on the weekends, during breaks and sometimes afterschool

You would teach Kazuha the basics, making sure he understood what to do in every possible mathematical situation before working his way up

You tried very hard to be patient but sometimes you just wanted to give up

Boy seemed hopeless but you wouldn't give up on him

Since he only asked you a week before the test, the results weren't great but he didn't fail

He showed you his C+ like an excited child before composing himself and asking what you got

"How did you even get 102%?!"

"I had extra time so I did a different way of working each question out for fun."

Venti overheard this conversation and his jaw dropped while Scara scoffed, murmuring something along the lines of you being a tryhard or something Scara's mad you managed to beat his perfect score like always

When he got an A next term, you felt very proud

You started giving him extension work afterwards much to his displeasure

On the other hand Kazuha taught you everything about literature

Like everything

He was so patient and gave you so many examples, you don't know how he created such sentences from thin air

You were just like how do you even think of that

He taught you what words to you and how to correctly interpret the character or author's feelings

He explained it so much better than the teacher, you were just like why doesn't our teacher explain it like this

He would edit your drafts and give you feedback

Kazuha told you to edit his draft once and you refused profusely

He wanted someone else's insight on his work but he guessed he'd just have to ask another day

He was prouder than your parents when you started getting As in english

Anyways below is after you start dating

He'd let you borrow his favourite books to read

Study dates were a thing but he made them more romatic

Like he planned out a whole picnic for a study date once

Had boba, mochi, all your favourite food and snacks

He found a really cute cat cafe to study in but you two go disctracted by the cats

You two would agree to disagree on whether math or english was better

When you two got together heizou called scara a fortune teller for foreshadowing this

Their whole friend group started annoying scara, asking him to tell their fortunes

Scara told them all to shut up

When kazuha sees you writing your essays, focussed and completely oblivious to anything else, he's thinks about how glad he is that he asked you to tutor him in math

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ˚ ·

Okay, here we go. January’s not over yet, so I can squeeze my 2023 review post in just under the wire. I know it’s not technically necessary to do stuff like this, but it’s something I’ve done at least the last several years, and I do think I get some benefit from the ritual and also perhaps some benefit from forcing myself to type it all out and post it where others can see it (although nobody needs to actually read it. It’s probably gonna get long.)

Last year was the first year of me doing this, I think, where I pulled up all my original posts for the year, and had posted no original works of artistic merit. No photoshop edits, no architectural models of sets, no whatever else I sometimes do. Normally that would make me feel pretty shitty about myself, but I sat with it all for a while, and, yeah, I didn’t post any “stuff of merit”. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t do anything. And as someone recovering from a nasty addiction to horrible self-criticism, I think it’s important to stop and take purposeful notice of accomplishments, even neutrally, although positively is the goal.

And now I know why I put off making this post all month, because I’m already starting to get emotional, just thinking about what the bulk of this post is going to be about.

In a lot of ways 2023 was a really good year for me. I did a lot of behind the scenes stuff that’s been really great. I made an awesome new friend. I started therapy again. I started morning pages journaling. I started bullet journaling. I’m in a really good place right now. Which feels like such a fucking jinx to even think, let alone type out. But at least for the moment, it’s true.

But the thing from 2023 that feels too big to me to even look at really is this:

I don’t remember making that post now, I just found it in my regular review process and it knocked me on my ass. But apparently I made that post at 9:30 pm on December 31, 2022. So, basically the first post I made of 2023. Or at least close enough.

And that little post feels like a big deal to me, because two or three years before that, I’d sworn off writing. I’d decided my relationship to it was just too complicated and fraught and difficult, so I should just give up and put my efforts elsewhere, toward interests and hobbies that weren’t so complicated or fraught or difficult. I had decided that it was time to just be realistic and accept that writing was just not something I was cut out to do and move on with my life.

But here’s the context for that decision, or at least a high level overview that is hopefully succinct and also steers mostly clear of being too trauma dumpy. And it probably reads like a cliched former-gifted-kid humble brag, but it's how my life went so, it's what I've got to work with:

I’ve always been naturally gifted at stringing together words and sentences in a way that’s coherent and organized and readable. Every teacher I’ve ever had, all the way back to elementary school has told me so. All the standardized tests told me I was in the 99th percentile in most subjects, but especially the one’s related to reading and writing. My AP English teacher senior year of high school told me I was the best writer she’d had in any of her classes in her decades long teaching career.

I flunked freshman English and had to retake it over summer in order to move onto the next grade. I got Ds in English for basically all the rest of high school. I know in my heart of hearts that my teacher junior year fudged the math to give me that D, so I didn’t fail. I graduated high school a semester late.

Because, while I may have been good at writing, I’ve never been good at writing. Any natural talent I may have had was utterly paralyzed by my executive function issues (thank you adhd and autism) that generally made it impossible for me to actually put words on the page when it mattered.

Despite all that, I apparently thought it was a good idea to go to college and get a degree in English Creative Writing. I was going write best selling novels. All my professors told me my work was great. When I managed to turn work in that is.

I’ve dropped out of college like two or three times. Last time was idk, 2019 apparently (had to go look it up). I was almost done. Just another semester left or so. But instead I got burned out, had a breakdown in the parking garage before finals because I hadn’t written any of my term papers, and then just drove away and never went back.

And it’s not like I wasn’t trying. Which is probably the most painful part, honestly. I tried meds multiple times. I read self help and how to books. I got an electric typewriter because surely that would fix everything. In my 20s, I did use it to bang out the world’s roughest rough draft for the first "book" (I use that term very loosely here) in a trilogy I concocted. I tried handwriting. I tried voice to text. And there was a beautiful period where I was working on co-writing a much too ambitious fic with a friend where I manage to write several thousand words.

But I have never in my life been able to write On Purpose, with any sort of consistency or longevity or confidence or ease. I had folders of wips and snipets of ideas that all amounted to nothing. I had what all my teachers always told me I had: tons of wasted potential. My only tried and true method that had gotten me most of my results in school was to procrastinate until the night before and use the pressure and adrenaline to puke out a paper just in the nick of time. But even that method eventually failed me (hence the dropping out). And even if it hadn’t, that’s not a sustainable system. That’s not a way to actually get shit done on a regular basis. That’s not a way to enjoy a craft.

So I quit.

I decided, this is too hard. And it makes me feel too horrible every time I fail. It’s too easy to hate myself every day that I don’t write when I think I should. I decided I just wasn’t built for this and gave the fuck up.

That was like three years ago.

So for two years, if I had an idea for a story or a fic, no I didn’t. I’d just ignore it. I did other things. But the ideas were still there. I’d still think about them. Sometimes I even wrote little snippets down. But it was just to get it down. It wasn’t real. I gave up writing. I wasn’t doing that anymore.

And honestly? Maybe that’s what I needed? I have no idea if things could have worked out differently had I made different choices. That’s life after all. But maybe the total lack of pressure from genuinely quitting was good for me? I’ll never know.

But what I do know is that me from a year ago made this post:

And then this post:

And then this post:

And then this:

Then this:

And this is what this past month has looked like for me:

It not part of my system to write on the weekends, so that’s 18 out of 23 days, I managed to show up at my desk and reliably put some effort in. I’ll fucking take it.

And what’s crazy is, it’s felt easy. It’s felt good. I like the process.

I don’t exactly love everything I’ve written. Any natural talent I may or may not have doesn’t make up for lack of practice. But If I can keep this up, I’ll have the practice too. Eventually.

It’s a learning process. I’m having to relearn a lot of skills I’d forgotten or learn new skills for the first time. For example, I’ve basically never seriously edited anything in my life, and with my new approach, I really put the rough in rough draft, so the editing is extremely necessary. But it feels good to be trying. To be gaining ground little by little.

Since I dusted off my ancient install of scrivener back in idk? June?, I’ve written over twenty-five-thousand words, which is A Lot for me. And yeah, it’s across multiple fics. And yeah, I haven’t actually finished any one fic yet and posted it. But I’ll get there. It feels crazy to know that if just keep doing what I’m doing, I’ll get there. And it feels crazy to know that I can keep doing what I’m doing. It feels like I can keep doing it indefinitely, and I’ve never felt like that before. Not in my entire life. At least not about writing.

So yeah, 2023 was a great year for me.

Bangtan Kitty Cafe Chapter 1

Hi there! This is my first story, I’m not super duper confident with it but this would be labeled chapter one! If people really like it and want more I’ll try and write more of it, constructive criticism would be very appreciated. Writing was never my best subject so sorry if i do a lot wrong 😂. To my AP English teacher, I’m sorry about this grammer fuck. Thank you for soending your time reading I greatly appreciate it!

Taglist : @imnotlauriane

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Owning your own business is harder than some people make it out to be, but owning a cat cafe is even more chaotic. It started after I began coming to Café Bangtan. The old coffee shop I went to closed, it was the little hole in the wall Café Bangtan that I found. The place was so cozy that I would visit it every single day and play with the cute cats. After a few months the owner, Sejin, offered me a job as a barista. Working with Sejin was the best job I’ve ever had, I actually enjoyed working there. Taking care of the cats was the best part of my day, except for getting to eat the left over pastries of course. Sejin was always strict, but in a caring way that pushes me forward. After working there for a year, I learned that Sejin was actually thinking of retiring. None of his family wanted to carry on the Café, so he offered it to me. After a lot of talking and lawyer visits, Sejin gave me the Café. After the first few crazy weeks I finally settled into my roll of being the owner. It was really difficult at first, so I decided to try and get another pair of hands. The first few people didn’t fit in right, so I kept looking.

Until a younger college sophomore named Jungkook came in asking for a part time job. After I hired him, Jungkook also brought two of his friends Jimin and Hoseok. Both were looking for a job, and after a interview I hired the both of them. Now we all have this nice system we have, along with our nice regulars. A music producer named Yoongi who always orders a striaght black coffee and sits in the back corner next to the book cases in the corner, who normally sits by himself, every once in a while with our sleepy chunky Koya. Then there’s the college Professor Namjoon, a nice man who always has nice book recommendations and always gets his vanilla frappe, as well as normally with fluffy RJ or sleek Chim Chim while he grades papers or studies for future lectures. Lastly is Seokjin, he’s the well known eye candy of the Café, every time he comes in at least one or two new customers swoon at him. He’s always been super nice, he’s a small time actor who comes here to read his new scripts and have his coffee and occasionally a tea, he also always sits with any of the kitties. Another person we see is a lot is our strawberry delivery boy Taehyung, he always comes on his day off from school to deliver them. He’s always very sweet and he stays to just hang with the cats and talk with everyone when we’re slow.

As chaotic as it is, I truly love my job, my friends, and of course my little kitties. I love waling up early every day and making our pastries with RJ who loves watching me bake. I love when I hear Jungkook, Jimin, and Hobi laughing while goofing off when were slow. I love having a little book club time with Namjoon when I need my break. I love helping Jin practice his scripts with him. I love when Yoongi does his little performances for our little coffee shop on Sundays. I love spending time with Taehyung and he tries to get me to give him pastries when we both know I was already going to give him some. And most importantly I love my 7 kitties.

However, more recently I’ve been struggling to get new customers to come in, a week ago a new coffee shop opened up a block away, and since they’re new everyones checking it out. I’ve been trying quiet a few things, themed days, happy hours, even lowering my prices, but its just not working. It’s getting to the point the boys are starting to notice my worries. I’m just hoping I can think of something, and something fast. There’s been talk of a block festival where we have stalls and show off our wares to try and kickstart business, which may work.

While thinking these thoughts I suddenly hear the door bell ring and I look up and see Hobi come in for his morning shift, I look outside realizing the sun is starting to rise.

“Morning Y/N-ie, sleep well” He smiles brightly as he comes behind the counter. I nods while taking the pastries out of the oven, “I did, what about you Hobi?”

“Pretty good! I woke up early so I took Mickey on a walk!” He smiles lovingly while he puts on his flower print apron. At that moment TaTa hopped up on the counter and sat right in front of Hobi, just staring at him. Hobi does a mic between a grimace and a smile.

Tata has always been a.. special cat, he hardly meows and just enjoys watching. He really loves Hobi, even though he creeps Hobi out a lot. RJ hops over and starts to rub himself all over TaTa and grooming him, and I quietly coo at them. When suddenly, the bell tolls again and we look up to see Jimin and Tae walk in with his crate of strawberries, while joking. In that moment I begin to forget about my worries and just enjoy the happy moment

Day 21: Lycanthrope

10/21: Lycanthrope

Universe // Characters: Law and Order: SVU // Detective Mike Duarte 

X349 Bronx River High School 

Tremont Ave

Captain Mike Duarte is back to square one. 

Well, less that square one now that Muncy left the Bronx Gang Unit to pitch her hat in the ring with the Special Victims Unit, and he was down a detective. But since he finds himself back at the beginning of building a case against BX9, and eventually Oscar Papa, he decides to take a different approach this time. 

Family members of BX9 were getting him nowhere. They were either loyal and kept their mouths shut or they were scared and kept their mouths shut. Jilted girlfriends and baby mamas left high and dry with no support are more than happy to spill the dirt on their on again/off again paramours, but the information tends to be one sided and blown out of proportion. He had been thinking of finding a source he could tap that would be the most unbiased when the answer landed in his lap, or rather his hand.

You had called him, the new Dean of Students at the Bronx River High School in the middle of Tremont. 

How you got his number is a question he intends to ask as he approaches the pale yellow building that houses the Bronx River High School. He passes through the metal detectors, just the first lines of defense before having to check in with a front desk security guard behind bullet proof glass, and then buzzed through three metal doors. It’s easier to get into the police station. 

You come out into the small waiting room to greet him, shaking his hand firmly and thanking him for coming on such short notice. He tries to hide his smile as he follows you down a narrow hallway to your office at the way you’re dressed: a nicely tailored gray suit with a pale pink blouse and a pair of beat up Converses. Your hair is dark and curly, only partially pulled back by a dark, glossy barrette. You’re practical and that gives him some hope that this might be a good place to start the rebuild of the case. 

“I’m sorry I don’t have much,” you motion to the mostly empty office. “This is my first year as a principal and I haven���t had a chance to set up my office yet.” 

“A desk, a couple of chairs, looks good to me.” 

You give him a tight smile and he notices the boxes stacked neatly under the window. Every single one of them is labeled in neat lettering, all in the upper right hand corner of the box. Fiction books. Nonfiction books. ELA 11. AP Lang. Decorations. 

“You were an English teacher?” He points the boxes behind you and you follow the motion. 

“Oh, yes. I was. For ten years actually.” There’s another tight smile. “I got promoted this school year. Our previous Dean of Students retired early and when the position opened up, the head principal, Dr. Caban really wanted me to take it. So,” you shrug, “I did.” 

He starts to ask why exactly you called when there’s a knock at the door. A tall, thin man in a nice suit and tie steps into the office. 

“Ah, speak of the devil,” you say. “Detective Duarte, this is Dr. Caban.” 

He shakes the principal’s hand. “I was just getting ready to ask why I was called in? Gangs don’t usually conduct business in schools. Gang members don’t typically even go to school.” 

“True, but we’ve been seeing an uptick in some tagging around the school.” Dr. Caban retreats back to the door. “This is more her thing, than mine. I personally don’t know how much help you can be, but she’s surprised me more than once. So, just let me know if you need anything, Detective.” 

Duarte watches Caban give you one last, briefly lingering look, that you fail to notice. It could simply be that you’re focused on arranging folders and papers on your desk and you just miss it or it could be a one-sided thing. The more he studies your face, pretty in a natural, earthy way, the more he hopes it’s a one-sided thing with Caban. 

“Okay, Detective, this is why I called you.” You slide a couple pictures over to him. “While most gangs don’t do business on school grounds, we are starting to see more and more graffiti pieces in the bathrooms, hallways, and classrooms. There was a big surge of BX9 tags after Sleep died and the other two members were charged with rape, but nothing happened in the school.” 

He shuffles through the pictures. There were lots of BX9 tags, along with variations of honoring Sleep’s death, the most common one being “RIP Zzzz.” But then he sees a completely unfamiliar tag. “LCTRP” with two dog ears framing the top of the letters, one of the L and the other on the P. “What is this?” 

“This is what I need your help with.” You take a seat behind your desk. You’re sporting a smile that is verging on a laugh. “This is so ridiculous that I hope you don’t think I wasted your time with this. Because of the big surge of BX9’s tags, it’s started to encourage other wannabe gangs to pop up. Most have completely fizzled out but these guys, I’m afraid they’re going to get themselves hurt or worse if they keep up with this nonsense.” 

“So it’s a new gang?” 

You do laugh at that. “You could say that. They’re a bunch of Harry Potter fans trying to pass themselves off as gang members. LCTRP, which is clue one they’re not actually gang members because really, try spray painting that on a subway wall, which stands for ‘lycanthrope.’ They’re paying homage to Remus Lupin, a character from Harry Potter who was a werewolf.” You sadly shake your head. “Moony would not be impressed with this behavior.” 

He actually has to chuckle a bit at this as well even though most of what you said in reference to Harry Potter meant nothing to him. “When book nerds go bad, huh?” 

“They can’t even really go bad. We found out about them when we caught one of them cleaning their own graffiti off the bathroom walls after school. He told me about the group but is refusing to give up the other members. That’s where you come in.” 

“You want me to find the rest of the group?” 

“Yes. Just scare them, though. I have a feeling these kids are just playing with something that they don’t actually understand. And with BX9 being so prevalent, I don’t want them to become cannon fodder.” 

“So why call me for a group of kids playing at being thugs?” 

Your good humor slips slightly. “Because I know you’ve been chasing BX9 for quite a while now. Kids talk, have disciplinary and truancy issues, the parents have a lot of interaction with the principals here, it could be a good ground zero for you. If you want to approach it that way at least.” 

It’s a good offer. Even if it doesn’t shake out, at least he has a connection in the Tremont neighborhood. “Alright. I’ll do it.” 

Your smile comes back. “Great! If you want, I can walk you down to our resource officer’s office and get you a security shirt. He can also get you set up with a radio and keys too. That’ll give you access to all areas in the school.” 

“Fantastic.” 

You both stand up and head out of the office. You stay a couple steps ahead of him, your pace brisk and confident. You nod to a couple kids along the way, tell a couple to go back to class. The kids act like they know you, have known you, for a while. They greet you, are respectful towards you, most even smile when they see you. He can see why Caban wanted you in the position of Dean, you already had established and positive relationships with the kids. You unlock the door to the security office and turn on the light. It’s the size of a cubicle, filled with monitors but no one is in there watching them. 

“Resource officer on break? With the rest of the security team?” 

You laugh shortly. “You’re funny. Our officer is shared between three other schools and our security team consists of two retired cops who are either golfing or taking a nap in the custodian’s closet.” 

That’s a disaster waiting to happen. He makes a mental note to bring in a couple of his guys to also act as security officers around the school. If he’s going to stir the pot, he needs to make sure there’s going to be enough hands on deck to handle what’s going to come to the surface. You hand him a polo shirt with the school name embroidered on it along with a jacket with the same embroidery. 

“All the radios sit on chargers over there until someone heads out of the booth. Other than that, I would suggest you conceal carry your weapon for the time being.” 

“And should I wear stylish kicks like yours?” 

“When an all team call goes out on the radio, I’m running to the location. Can’t do that in heels.”

“So wear my running shoes.” 

“Yes,” you smile widely, “Wear your running shoes. I’ll have a badge, key cards and keys ready for you tomorrow morning.” 

You turn off the lights and hold the door open for him, locking it when it closes. “School starts at 7:15 so if you want to show up around 7 that should be good. We let out at 2:30. You do what you need to do and let me know if I can help in any way. I’ve taught just about every student here except for this year’s freshmen, and I’ve probably taught their older siblings in that case.” 

“Great. It’s nice to have some insider information.” 

“If you don’t have any questions for me, I’ll let you look around the school, get the layout down. Wear the security jacket though so no one reports a stranger wandering the halls. It’s pretty straightforward though: cafeteria back there, classrooms down the hallways. There are staircases in the middle of each wing and in the main lobby that lead to the second floor. The basement houses the gym, weight room, and pool.” 

He pulls the jacket on and stuffs the polo shirt into the pocket. “I do have one question for you. How did you get my number?” 

You give him a slightly confused look. “I just called the number on the back of your business card.” 

Back of his business card? “I think I would remember you if I had handed you a business card with my personal number on the back.” 

“Personal number?” 

“Yeah, you called my private cell phone line. I’m just wondering how you got that number?” Ever since he had worked undercover and Sleep and Maetiss had found out where he lived, he always made sure to keep his information private. The Dean of Students at a high school having his personal cell number didn’t raise too much worry but if you had it, who else had it? 

You clench your jaw and cross your arms, clearly annoyed. “My friend gave it to me. She told me to call you and have you come out to the school. I’m now wondering if your number wasn’t given to me by accident.” 

“Who’s your friend?” 

“Grace Muncy. We grew up in the same neighborhood, over by Little Italy here in the Bronx.” 

Muncy, of course. He knew she wouldn’t leave the gang unit high and dry. She knew how hard he took the DA’s decision to go with the rape charges and not pursue the route that could have lead to Oscar Papa’s arrest. She didn’t want to leave him completely empty handed. 

She handed him you. He’s going to have to send her a box of cannoli’s for that. 

“Muncy doesn’t do anything by accident. Which also means, she must trust you a lot.” 

A touch of sadness comes into your eyes. “Yeah, I trust her quite a bit too. Her and her brother are good people. You know they’re moving, right?” 

“Yeah, I do.” He sighs. “But I know where she's going and the people she’s going to be working with. They’ll do right by her.” 

“They better.” 

He laughs quietly at the threatening tone in your statement. He absently wonders what an investigation would look like with you and Benson in the same room, both strong-minded women laser focused on an issue. “Well, I’m glad you called. I was running out of options of where to restart the investigation. So, thank you.” 

“Well, thank me after you deal with the wolf pack and your real investigation starts. I don’t know if it'll be worth your time, Detective.” 

“Mike.” 

“What?” 

“My name, it’s Mike.” 

You repeat his name, a habit most likely born of having to memorize so many student’s names. You tell him your name, to make it a fair exchange, before letting him have a run of the school. He watches you nod to a student, who throws up his hands in defense, but you calmly point down the hallway and the kid reluctantly goes. Duarte continues to watch you walk away and just as you turn the corner, the kid passes by him. 

“Don’t even, bro. She’s a ball buster for sure.” 

Duarte cracks half a smile. He does have a type, that’s for certain. “Yeah. What do you know about ball busters?” 

“Enough,” the kid mutters before going into the classroom two doors down. 

He’s going to have to send Muncy two boxes of cannolis.

Have you ever considered teaching elementary students? I think you're awesome for being an educator.

I forgot to reply to this! Because the answer is long.

The short answer is, no.

Elementary school was never what I wanted, or pictured for myself, because when you are working with kids that age you really do have to parent them in a lot of ways.

Frankly, I wanted this job because I wanted to engage young minds in literary discourse the way I got to when I was in my honors and AP English classes. I like public speaking, I like school, I like working with kids, and I like poetry and literature. It seemed perfect!

Then I got the job, and all my classes were general ed/blended low level courses. The students in my classes hate school in general and English in particular. I learned to adapt - I wouldn’t be having the Socratic seminars or high level creative projects I had envisioned but that was ok, I could still make my content fun and interesting for my student population.

Then Covid happened, and we thoroughly lost the battle against phones/social media. A full two years of learning and socialization has been lost. Kids sit in my class and play on their phones out in the open as if they are sitting at home on their couch. Students are violent, with each other and with staff. Everyone is sick of me talking about it, but almost 100% of my male population are fans of Andrew Tate, and spout his talking points at other (female) students and staff.

I stopped focusing on my content and started focusing almost entirely on classroom management and basic expectations for English. Things like staying in your assigned seat, and capitalizing your own name on papers. Things I had specifically hoped I could avoid by working with older kids.

Then, this year, I was given my first GATE (Honors level) English class. They are high level learners and have almost zero behavioral issues. And I, as their teacher, am failing them. My content is nowhere near their standard of rigor. Their class average since September is a 96%. They ask me questions about reading and writing that I don’t know how to answer, because I haven’t thought about them in 6 years. I finally have the opportunity to engage critically with a student population over literature, the whole reason I wanted this job, and I’m completely blowing it.

So. Maybe I’m just not in the right place anymore.

for the writer meme, all the primes (1 not included)!

hi mis you're an absolute terror (affectionate) cracks knuckles okay let's do this. I'm just gonna go ahead and put this under a read more from the get go, it's gonna be long laksjfd

link to the ask meme!

2. Do you plan each chapter ahead or write as you go?

I do a secret third thing called "hallucinate wildly about scenarios and then put them in an order that eventually becomes an outline and chapters."

3. Describe the creative process of writing a chapter/fic

see above

But really though, to use wyab as an example, once I had an idea of the direction I wanted the story to go I just broke down the scenes in a way that made sense and tried to keep a sort of overarching theme for each chapter. Which is why those chapters ended up so long. >.>

5. Do you like constructive criticism?

Only from people I trust <3

7. How do you choose which POV to write from?

I choose the one that I think would make the fic more interesting! Like, wyab would not have worked if it was primarily Goro's POV, even though his perspective on certain scenes would've been really cool. Though now that I'm thinking about it, I do tend to favor Akira...

11. Link your three favorite fics right now

Been working my way through MistressEast's After Hours at Leblanc series for the past week or so (I'm a slow reader alskjdf), it's fantastic!

Also obsessed with @honeysweetcorvidae's NG+ AU and a certain someone's rebel AU. :3c

13. What’s a common writing tip that you almost always follow?

In high school one of my AP English teachers told me the word "that" is often unnecessary in a lot of the places people use it and can drag down the flow of your writing and ever since I've been culling it from my sentences unless it's actually necessary. There were at least two places in that one sentence where I tried to use it!!

17. What do you do when writing becomes difficult? (maybe a lack of inspiration or writers block)

Cry. Do something else. Pretend my writing never existed.

Serious answer: Music helps me focus a lot! I either have a full playlist for each writing project, or a handful of songs that work for me for things like oneshots. Reading through what I've already written or my notes can also help because it reminds me why I was excited about the thing in the first place (this is a double-edged sword - sometimes it's just frustrating alksjf).

19. What is the most-used tag on your ao3?

Top 3 for funsies. You might say I'm predictable.

23. Best writing advice for other writers?

Oh I should not be giving anyone advice. Uh. I think my favorite bit of advice in general is that you should absolutely say fuck the rules when it comes to grammar, but you do have to know what the rules are first. Break them in a way that's impactful.

29. What’s your revision or editing process like?

I have trained and worked as an editor, so I can be kind of ruthless with myself sometimes. I do at least one pass where I just pick every line apart and make it sound as good as possible, but I try to limit myself to just one of those, maybe two if it's a scene I'm really into/worried about. I'm also guilty of editing as I write, but I've gotten better at quelling that over the years!

31. Do you start with the characters or the plot when writing?

I guess technically the characters because a lot of my stuff is very character-centered/driven. The plot often comes from me going "what happens if I put [character(s)] in [situation]?"

37. How do you choose where to end a chapter?

Depends! I try to make it impactful regardless, whether that's a cliffhanger or just something punchy and meaningful. For wyab, I decided that the last scene of each chapter would be from Goro's POV - like we were checking in on him hehe. I thought it was fun!

41. Do you tend to reread fics or are you a one-and-done kind of person?

Generally one-and-done! But I do reread in certain cases, like when I was writing the epilogue for wyab and wanted to make sure I was calling back to earlier parts of the fic correctly. Or when I'm thinking about sequels... >.>

43. Do you take a sadistic joy in whumping your characters, or are you more the "If you hurt them I would kill everyone and then myself" kind of person?

I am the embodiment of the "angst with a happy ending" ao3 tag so. both?

47. How many times do you usually revise your fic/chapter before posting?

Answered this earlier but I try to leave it at one pass! If I do more than that I tend to start hating my own writing and/or talk myself out of posting it alskjfa

53. How do you spend your time when it comes to fanfiction? Are you primarily a fic reader, writer, or a perfect 50/50 split of both?

idk if it's a perfect split exactly, but I'm definitely both! I think it fluctuates - when I first got into p5, I devoured a large portion of the shuake tag before writing anything at all. And then I got absorbed in my own writing and barely read anything that wasn't friend fics alskjdf

59. Does anyone in your personal life know you write fic? if not, would you tell anyone?

At this point all of my friends are also fic writers and/or in fandom lmao. But my family doesn't know, and I simply do not want to explain all that to them.

61. Why do you continue writing fics?

Because I love the characters! I want to make them dance for me :3c

67. Do you prefer prompts and challenges, or completely independent ideas?

Both! I like going full indulgence with my own ideas, but prompts are great for challenging myself.

71. When it comes to more complicated narratives, how do you keep track of outlines, characters, development, timeline, ect.?

Again using wyab as an example: The entirety of the fic is in one google doc. Makes it easy to search for things, and to make outlines. Part of the reason I added the p5-esque calendar dates was to keep myself on track, and to indicate that time was passing without having to spell it out every time. Other than that... I tend to stream of consciousness write my notes as they come to me and organize them later.

73. What do you think makes your writing stand out from other works?

oh god uhhhhh. fuck. I guess probably the fact that I try to balance flowery language with overall concise storytelling makes my writing style pretty distinct? And I'm a slut for themes and metaphors, and that definitely comes through too.

finding my inner child (trying too...)

based on the following piece...im trying to find my inner child

From this piece..

"you get good grades in science? great, be a doctor. you're good at math? you should really look at finance. you're good at both? engineering is for you"

See...the thing is i never thought i was actually good at anything. not in high school and definitely not in middle school. In fact, I'd say I was probably trying to be good at all of the things i didn't like to please people. to please my teachers, my peers, my parents. lol I was trying to be good at math when i actually hated math. but also..when i say i hate math i mean i didn't like homework. I couldn't resonate with numbers and math in general. But that doesn't mean I didn't try to be good at it and learn the material. But it was definitely not my favorite subject.

Because I was never told I was good at either of these i never felt strongly tied to anything, especially a career. My interests had always been all over the place as i grew up. As a kid, I loved legos, building blocks, arts and crafts. I loved drawing, scribbling on walls (and the carpet in the apartment my family used to live in). I also loved writing-- even if I was struggling with learning English i remember scribbling letters all over an A4 paper i found at my teachers's desk. I even remember taking art classes as a kid and painting after school.

When I think back to high school, I remember dreading most out of it. I didn't like math, I actually really liked biology, but I was awful at chemistry and physics wasn't my forte. Yeah, the sciences weren't my strong suit. I really liked art though. I loved ceramics, drawing with charcoal..but my parents didn't see a career for that so I was encouraged to go after something to be financially stable. My only class I actually liked was psychology though. I loved those classes. I really liked learning about the brain, the science of how the brain works, behavior, past psych studies, why people think the way they do, how our childhood shapes much of our later life...but i didn't know what i was supposed to do with psychology. like i loved learning about it but i didn't know if i wanted to be a psychologist...? that was the only path i could see back then. And even then, i wasn't sure since I got a fckin 2 on the psych AP test.

Somehow in college, i ended up studying communication. To be honest, I thought about pursuing journalism. I wanted to write about people, learn about their life, who they were, their careers and yeah i guess if i could get paid for it then that was nice too. Fast forward through college..I ended up studying communication but being interested in ux research because i was curious about people. I guess even today still I'm always curious about people and their behavior. Specifically about people and their identities, how their identities and personalities are shaped by the mediums and things they consume, youtuber culture and what brings people to be so vulnerable on the internet and social mediums. But I also loved education and the innovations that happen in the space. specifically how children learn, how our education systems should encourage kids to lean into their curiosities, how education and classroom tools should be more collaborative and exploratory.

So yeah, i guess my interest is education!! But the reason I want to work in it is honestly out of spite for the education system instilled in me lol. What, you expected me to say that I LOVED SCHOOL?? I LOVED CURRICULUM?? Well, to be fair, I didn't hate school. I really like it actually. I liked learning, I just hated grades and because I didn't always get good grades it made me feel like I wasn't good at much of anything. But I do love learning about things even if I'm not good at them. I work in education because I don't want kids to feel like they're not meant for a career because their grades in subjects related to those careers aren't considered "good". I work in education because I want teachers to encourage their students to be curious and always aspire to learn more about the world around them. And I want kids to learn that there are so many careers to explore beyond middle and high school. And finally, i work in education because i want teachers to be more creative in the classroom and teach students to embrace failure. Because if anything, I think i've learned the most from moments and experiences where I've felt like I've "failed".

But also..i love thinking about identity!!! how identity is so malleable and fluid, how susceptible it is to external forces and our environment and people in our life. But also how social mediums and influencers affect our identities too.

Yeah i think those are my two main interests: education and identity. except i'd say my interest in identity is a hobby-- something i like to read about, talk to people about (not work related). I don't know what to do with it because it's something i like to learn about!

Hej älskling 💜 Since you are a writer as well maybe you could answer the same questions i sent Chantel yesterday ? I'm endlessly curious about writing, I would love to know your answers.

- How long would you say you've been a writer?

- Do you still remember your first stories, what were they about?

- Did you enjoy writing/english in school ? Were you "good" (as in did you get high marks) ?

- Do you enjoy reading as well or are you more of a storyteller? Do you have any favorite books as an adult? What about when you were young ?

- Are you only writing fics at the moment or other things as well? Is it different writing fanfiction vs other things ?

- When / why did you write your first fic ? Were you nervous to post it ?

- What do you do with your writing, do you have like a file or a document or cloud or how do you "store" it ? Are they well organized or all over the place?

-Does your own writing make you cry or laugh often ? Do you think it's necessary for a writer to feel the things they are writing about ?

-Is it always pleasant to write ? Does writing ever make you feel bad (like writing about sad or dark stuff)?

- Do you feel like it's easier for you to write either from Wille's or Simon's pov, why do think that is ?

-Who is your favorite characters to write about other than W & S ?

Hope you feel better soon, you sweet sweet thing 💜🦋

-JJ

Hi! I appreciate you. I really do. I need to say that. I appreciate you very, very much. Thank you for sending this in and giving me something to think about.

Ok, now, to answer the questions. I apologize in advance if this is all over the place, because it will be:

I would say I've been a writer since I was like nine? That's how long I've been writing stories. I used to steal my mom's laptop and make documents for my silly fairytales I wanted to write. Of course I haven't been a good writer since then. I don't think I'd even consider myself a good writer now, to be completely honest. I've been writing for that long, though.

The first stories I ever wrote were fairytales, kind of. I grew up in the era of fairytale retellings for children's chapter books, so I was heavily emersed in that. The first story I can remember actually plotting was a Little Red Riding Hood retelling in which triplets get stuck in the story and have to figure it out. I called it "Little Red Riding Hoods" because I was super clever. No, but seriously, I remember that being the first book I ever plotted. I don't think I ever finished it, though. One of the triplets was gay. I remember that much.

I did enjoy writing in school. I was always ready to write something. I took all AP English classes (not quite sure what the equivalent of that would be outside of the States, but just imagine a 14-year-old taking university classes because they can). I wasn't the best student, so my marks weren't the best they could have been, but I understood the material. My teachers had a love/hate relationship with me because I knew everything and was good at everything, but then I wouldn't turn in my assignments.

I do enjoy reading. I read a lot. I definitely prefer to write, but I read way too much. Currently, my favorite book is Red White and Royal Blue (but honestly, whose isn't right now?) My all-time favorite book is Lord of the Flies. When I was little, I was really into those fairytale retellings I mentioned earlier. One of my favorites was the Whatever After series.

Right now I have a couple of original stories I've started and/or plotted, but haven't really been paying attention to. I definitely write more fic than original stories. It's very different writing fanfic to other things in my opinion. In fic you don't have to build the world or backstory of your character if you don't want to. In other things you do. It takes less time to come up with fic because of that. That doesn't mean it's easier. It's certainly not easier. And fanfic has a whole other brand of problems you run into. The characters already exist, but now you have to make sure they're acting in the way they would in the original piece of media. And sometimes you want to change how they act, so you have to change the other characters. Or sometimes the setting doesn't work, so you have to change little things without hurting the original media. So it's different to write fic, but it's certainly not easier (in my opinion).

I wrote my first fic when I was 12, I think. That's when I discovered fanfiction. It was a Divergent fanfiction. It was most certainly a self-insert, but I didn't even know what that meant at the time. I wasn't nervous to post it until people started reading it. Then I was nervous. I never finished writing it, actually. My old Wattpad account is crying somewhere. I was really nervous to start posting again when I was 18. I took a long ass break from fanfic. I worked on a really popular Harry Potter fanfic as the artist and French Translator and that shit was toxic. (ten points to anyone who can guess which one lmao) I had to escape. I couldn't even touch fanfic for like a year and a half. Then I started reading it again, and eventually I started writing it. Fanfic had always been kind of an outlet for my creativity, and I missed it dearly. I wanted to write again, so I did. When I first posted for YR, I was terrified. I was sure that no one would read it, or worse, they would read it and then they'd hate it. I was pleasantly surprised to find that people don't hate what I write.

I keep my fics in my google docs on my backup email. I also use ProWritingAid to held edit sometimes. I title them as "title draft one" or "title draft two." For example, when I was writing the Wilmon Chapter, the docs were titled "Wilmon draft one" and "Wilmon draft 2." It isn't the most organized, but it certainly isn't the worst. At least the documents are all titled and saved.

My writing often makes me laugh. I'll be writing jokes or stupidly sappy lines and suddenly I'll just start cackling. I've had some lines make me cry. That doesn't happen as often. Only when I'm writing something I really connect to. I think it's somewhat necessary for writers to feel what they're writing about. Like, if I'm writing about something funny, but I don't think it's funny at all, or it makes me sad or something, how am I supposed to expect other people to find it funny? I don't need to be rolling on the floor laughing, but I should feel a little chuckle. Does that make sense?

It isn't always pleasant to write, no. A lot of writing is based on personal experience, whether or not we want to admit it. When I write about someone with depression or anxiety, I'm drawing from my own struggles with that. If writing doesn't make the reader feel good, it was probably worse for the author to write it. Writing is a beautiful outlet for many people, but that doesn't mean it's a happy outlet all the time. Writing can make you cry, or laugh, or angry at the world. It's a form of art. If artists feel that way about their artwork, writers feel that way about their stories.

I feel like it's easier for me to write from Wilhelm's perspective. I relate to him a lot more than I relate to Simon. For that reason alone, I think it's easier for me to write from his perspective. I understand the struggles with anxiety. I understand the family expectations to be perfect. I understand the queer crisis. I understand being outed. It's a lot easier for me to write about him because I was him.

My favorite Young Royals character to write about, other than W&S, is 10000% Henry. He's my favorite lil guy. He's so sweet. In the show, he's a little snobby at first, but then he's literally the cutest. "Did you watch the game? " Like, baby, you know he didn't, but thank you for trying. And in fanfic he's so much better. Henry is my baby. I love Henry. We need to protect Henry at all costs. I love writing about Henry.

Thank you again for asking. I hope this was a good enough answer haha. I apologize once again for this being all over the place.

(Y/n) and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week: Monday

Tuesday     Wednesday     Thursday (Part 1)     Thursday (Part 2)     Friday     Saturday     Sunday

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Pairing: SBI x sister!reader (she/her pronouns)

Warnings: swearing, toxic friends, panic spirals/attacks, injury, taking pills for pain

Summary: you have a very bad week, how will you manage? (Characters are fully human, but based on their DSMP characters. High school AU)

Word count: 4,818

(A/N): I’ve never played volleyball or watched Haikyuu before, so I’m not 100% certain how games work. Also, I probs should’ve split this into two parts, but eh.

“(Y/n) love, you look homeless in that sweater, it’s literally so fucking ugly.”

“Haha, yeah it is. I guess I just wasn’t really trying today.”

Adrian snorted, scanning your body with his cold eyes. “Today? You don’t try at all. You always look like trash.”

“More than trash, you always look like you just rolled in dog shit.” Sammy threw her head back and cackled at her own joke.

Your friends around you erupted in laughter as you four walked down the hallways of the hell that was your public high school. You awkwardly chuckled alongside them, you didn’t really find it funny, but you didn’t want to draw more attention towards yourself. 

“Seriously, (y/n), I really don’t know why we still hang out around you anymore. You really let yourself go.”

“Yeah, now that I think about it, you did gain like five pounds in the past week.”

“Really not a good look on you, love. Then again, nothing you do can make you look good anymore.”

You tried to not let their comments get to you, you really did, but sometimes their comments just rooted themselves deep into your subconscious. You didn’t try looking good anymore, you couldn’t wear anything without them criticising it. You could never win. 

“Awe,” Adrien poked your cheeks, “stop looking so sad. We’re just trying to give you advice. You really need it.”

“Yeah, (y/n). You’re so sensitive, get a grip.”

“Guys look, I think she’s gonna cry!” 

You wiped at your welling eyes with the sleeves of your sweater. “I’m not. I just got allergies.”

Annie rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh. Anyways, what are our plans for Halloween? We should totally dress up like sexy angels! I think that’d be so cool. Like, Clint’s party won��t be ready for us.”

“Oh, about that Annie…”

“God, what now (y/n)?”

“I was actually planning on spending Halloween night taking Tommy and Tubbo trick-or-treating with my brothers and dad. I won’t be able to go with you guys, I’m sorry.”

The group groaned loudly. “C’mon (y/n), you never hang out with us anymore.”

“Oh my god (y/n) you still go trick-or-treating? We’re juniors.”

“I’m sorry, I’ve just been busy with my AP classes and studying for the SAT. My team captain’s really been pushing the team hard with volleyball practice. State finals are soon and we want first this year.”

“No matter how much studying you do, you’re gonna fail. You’re stupid, so why try? Just give up and hang out with uuussss.”

“Yeah (y/n),” Adrien looked at you suspiciously, “you’ve been ignoring us lately. I thought we were friends. Do you even wanna be friends anymore?”

You felt a flare of panic flare up in your gut. “I do! I-I just have so much going on right now. It’s starting to get hard to juggle everything.”

“We’re starting to think that you don’t like us anymore, we want our (y/n) back!” Sammy whined. The others agreed with her, making you feel guilty. You were ignoring them, it was selfish in your opinion. You supposed that you could skip out on taking Tommy and Tubbo trick-or-treating, there’ll be other years you could take them. 

“I guess I can take Tommy and Tubbo another year. They’d just have to go without me this year.”

They cheered, giving you praise. You beamed at that, they seemed down lately and you loved it when they’d give you compliments. They didn’t do that much, so that made their praise more special to you. You strived to get compliments.

You four went off to your separate first classes for the day. Yours was statistics, a class you’ve been struggling in lately. You didn’t know anybody in there except for your oldest brother Techno, so you tried to stick with him. Unfortunately, the teacher’s seating chart placed you both on opposite ends of the room, probably because of your last names indicating that you’re siblings. You placed your stuff down on the table and plopped down into your seat, already drained. You had a long day ahead of you; you had a major AP world history test in your next class, you had to give a presentation in your AP english class that was worth a quarter of your final grade, and you had a semifinals volleyball match that would last until late in the night. If your team won, you would be going to state finals, so it was a lot of pressure on your shoulders. You were the main setter, so you had to really focus tonight if you were going to score your team points. 

“Alright class, pull out your homework!”

Fuck, you had homework? You looked in your folder, only to see the unfinished sheet full of equations you didn’t understand staring back at you tauntingly. Mr. Mullins walked over to your desk, took one look at your blank homework, and just walked right past you. Another big fat zero in the gradebook for you, just what you needed. At least he wasn’t in the mood to berate you today. You didn’t need any more stress piled onto your shoulders. 

The lesson felt like it dragged on forever with you frantically trying to copy down the notes on the board and trying to understand the content at the same time. Overtime, he would call students up to the board. Hopefully, he would skip over you today. “Ms. Minecraft.” Goddamn it, you spoke too soon.

Your head perked up and you looked at him. “Yes sir?”

“Come up to the board and solve this.”

Gulping, you felt panic rise up in you and stood up with shaky knees. On the board was part of the newer content he was just teaching. Something that you understood only a little bit better than the rest, and that’s not saying much. You still didn’t understand the content completely. Your writing was shaky as you wrote what you thought was right on the board. Finding the answer, you circled it and looked at Mr. Mullins. He looked disappointed. 

“That’s wrong, Ms. Minecraft. Please sit down.”

You felt like your face was on fire as you saw the entire class burning holes into you with their eyes. Though they looked dead inside, as per usual with any morning class full of tired teenagers, their effects still took hold on you. You wanted to crawl into a dark hole and die. You sat back down and stared at your note packet, you couldn’t focus on the lecture anymore. Your attention was fully on your surroundings, you were hyper aware of every little whisper and bouncing leg in your peripheral vision. You could feel yourself spiraling, usually that wouldn’t happen until after your third class. Today was going to be rough. 

The loud chime of the bell startled you out of your thoughts. You shakily put your papers back into your binder and put the binder back into your backpack. Right as you were about to walk through the door, you heard Techno catch up to you. “Hey, you good?”

“Yeah Tech, I’m just peachy.”

“Are you su-”

“Technoblade. I’m fine. Now if you excuse me, I have to get to my next class. I have an important presentation I’ve gotta prepare for.”

Without giving him any room to argue, you rushed off to your english class. You had Adrian and Annie in your class. For your presentation, you were paired up with people that you hardly knew. At least they did their part in the project, you were certain you were going to die if you got paired up with Adrian and Annie again. You loved them, but they never did any part of their portion of work. They left it to you to finish at midnight the day the project was due. To be fair, they both told you they had family emergencies, so you covered for them just that once. 

You pulled out your flashcards only to have them knocked out of your hand when someone bumped into you. You quickly crouched to pick them up so you could have them in order by time class started. “Oops, sorry love.”

It was Annie. She and Adrian towered over your crouched form smirking at you. Looking back down to rearrange your cards, you murmured “it’s ok.”

“Are you ready for this presentation, I know I am.”

You smiled a little. “Actually, I think I’m going to ace this. English is my best subject.”

“Yeah (y/n), I wasn’t asking you. I was talking to Annie. Besides, you’re probably going to fail this.” Adrian scoffed. 

“Thank you for asking, Adrian,” Annie shot a pointed look at you, “at least someone cares.”

The bell rang, signifying the start of your second block. You felt like you had a lump in your throat blocking your breathing. If Adrian, one of the smartest kids in your english class, said that you were going to fail, then you probably were going to fail. That would take a huge hit on your grade, this project was worth a quarter of your final grade after all. You were zoned out for the entirety of your classmate’s presentations putting yourself into a spiral. You jumped when Mr. Todd, your teacher, called your group up to present.

You stood stiffly in the middle of your two groupmates and clutched your flashcards with clammy hands. Luckily, your part of the presentation was not first. When it came to your part, you were stuttering and tumbling over your words. You even dropped your flashcards in front of everybody, causing half the class to snicker. Your face burned as you hurried to pick them up and your other groupmate took this as a signal to continue the presentation. You still had an important point to make that was integral for the set up to your other groupmate’s part of her presentation. You stared at your flashcards for the rest of the presentation. 

When the bell rang, you made a mad dash out of the classroom. You didn’t want to talk to anybody, especially not Adrian or Annie. It was a relief that you had your lunch period at the moment. You could hide yourself in the bathroom nobody used and let your panic attack ride itself out. 

You ducked inside a stall and sat on the toilet, bringing your knees up to bury your face in them. The tears and panic you were holding in all day let itself out with explosive effects. You started to hyperventilate as you muffled your sobs with your knee. Your chest painfully clenched so you couldn’t breathe. Your limbs felt like they weighed two tons each and they were shaking intensely. You didn’t hear the end of the lunch bell ring. By the time you calmed down slightly, you were five minutes late to AP world history. 

You packed your stuff up in a hurry, power walking through the halls. You probably looked like shit, but you didn’t care, you had a class to get to and a test that you probably wouldn’t be able to finish now. You lost ten minutes of your test time. When you tried to open the closed door, you found that it was locked. You had to knock if you wanted to get in. You raised a shaking hand to knock, but the door was opened by a less-than-impressed Ms. Osborne. She ushered you to your desk and gave you your unit test. 

You couldn’t focus. The multiple choice section was usually a breeze to you, but you couldn’t comprehend any of the questions. When you could comprehend them, you couldn’t concentrate on choosing an answer. You did your best to find the correct answers, but you were almost positive that at least half of them were wrong. Your handwriting was nearly incomprehensible and your essay topic was something you didn’t study for. When you were done with half of the body paragraphs, the bell rang and you had to turn in your unfinished test. 

You had your independent online psychology course next in the library. You usually worked alone secluded in a corner deep inside the library where nobody went. You would get some solace in being alone. Maybe you’d calm down enough so that you could ride home with your brothers and not go for a long walk so you could avoid them. 

You settled down in the comfortable chair and pulled out your laptop to get started. Psychology was your favorite class. It was easy for you to understand, it didn’t have much of a workload attached to it, and it was fun to learn about. It always calmed you down reading about the intricate workings of the brain. 

By time the day was over, you got most of your psychology work done and you were on your way to the car you shared with Technoblade and Wilbur. You took out your spare keys and slumped against the window in the backseat. You were absolutely drained after your terrible day and you still felt panic swirling deep within you, waiting for the right moment to strike. 

You stretched out your legs across the seat and leaned your back against the door. For the first time that day, you felt peaceful. You still had at least fifteen minutes to yourself until your brothers would start to make your way to the car. You felt the panic subside slightly and you fully relaxed. You closed your eyes and let yourself drift off into a light sleep. You needed your energy for tonight’s match. 

The door you were leaning on swung open and you tumbled backwards smacking the back of your head against the metal frame of the car and reverse scorpioning onto the pavement. Your entire upper back and the back of your head exploded in pain and your lower back hurt slightly from having your back bent uncomfortably. You heard laughter above you as you felt tears of pain start to slip out of your eyes. Your legs swung out from their place above your face and landed on the ground with a painful thump. 

You saw three blurry figures above you laughing at your pain. You reached up with a shaky hand to wipe at your tears and saw Adrian, Sammy, and Annie. They were cackling as you shakily stood up and sat on the comfortable seats of the car. You waited patiently for them to calm down. 

Eventually, Sammy calmed down enough to explain what happened to you through chuckles. “I’m sorry (y/n), it was just too good to resist. You should’ve seen your face.”

She and the others broke back into uncontrolled laughter as they remembered your embarrassing fall. You were used to their antics, and quite frankly it felt good to make your friends laugh, even if it were at your own expense. Just as they were calming down once again, you saw Wilbur and Techno walk out the front doors of the school laughing at something the other said. Annie and Sammy heard their laughter and quickly turned around to watch them. They had massive crushes on both of your brothers, many in the school did. 

Your brothers made their way to your shared car and stopped to look at you in slight confusion. “(Y/n), were you crying? What happened?” Wilbur asked worriedly. 

“Yea-”

“Oh Wilbur, it was terrible, (y/n) fell out of the car. I don’t think she closed the door before she leaned on it.” Annie interrupted you with a faked concerned tone, a complete contradiction to her reaction before your brothers came.

Techno hastily made his way to the driver’s side door. “Well, if she’s hurt we better get going, right Wilbur?”

“Yes! We better get going, please excuse us.” He sat in the passenger seat and closed the door without hearing Sammy and Annie’s desperate attempts to stop them so they could talk to them. Your brothers thought Sammy and Annie were annoying. They absolutely hated being around them. 

Waving apologetically at your friends, you pulled yourself into the car and closed the door. Annie and Sammy looked offended that you had let Wilbur and Techno get away from them. Avoiding their eyes, you looked down at your tightly clasped hands. They were shaking slightly. 

After pulling out of the parking lot, Techno glanced at you from the rearview mirror. “You ok (y/n)?”

“Yeah, my back just hurts and I have a headache.”

“Well, do you wanna go and get some ice cream? We still have some time left before we have to pick up Tommy and Tubbo. Dad doesn’t have to know,” Wilbur asked you.

You sighed, you wanted nothing other than to take a nap before your match. “Sorry, but I need to watch what I eat today. We have semifinals tonight and I can’t have anything sugary. I just wanna go home and take a nap.”

Your brothers were quiet for the rest of the car ride until you reached your driveway. Techno twisted his body around in his seat to look at you after he put the car in park. “Did you actually fall out of the car?”

Shit, should you tell him the truth? If you did, they would almost certainly get mad at your friends. Sammy and Annie would never forgive you if you turned your brothers against them. You decided that you would take one for the team again. “Yeah, I wasn’t paying attention.” 

Techno snorted. “Well, that was stupid,” he jokingly said. “Next time you’re gonna get run over by a parked car.”

You knew that he meant that as a joke, but it still stung. Stamping your emotions down, you laughed with him and Wilbur. It was stupid of you to do, you shouldn’t have let your guard down if you weren’t at home. 

You winced as you slung your bag on your back and walked the best you could back into your house. Your upper back was killing you. You made a beeline to the bathroom and rummaged through the medicine cabinet looking for some pain relief pills. You took some and shambled off to your room to take your well earned nap. You set your alarm’s setting to its loudest volume and passed out. 

You jolted up and gasped when you felt a wave of pain hit your upper back. You blearily looked at the time. You had a little under two hours before you had to get back to the school for your match. You groaned when you pulled yourself up, your head pounding with every turn. You pulled yourself out of bed and once again took some pain pills. You went downstairs to grab an apple or something to eat. Your dad was at the stove stirring something around in a pot. 

He turned to look at you with an excited smile. “You ready for your match tonight? You’re gonna kill it!” 

You only nodded halfheartedly and plopped yourself down at the table with your apple. Philza frowned at your lack of enthusiasm, but he figured that it was just because you just woke up from a nap. You’d bounce back eventually. 

“Wilbur told me that you fell out of the car? How’d you do that?”

You shrugged, wincing slightly as it moved your back slightly. “Dunno, must’ve not closed the door.”

Philza was at your side in a hurry, his hands hovering over your shoulders. “Did you get hurt? Show me where it hurts.”

“My back and the back of my head.”

“Can I move your shirt so I could look?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

You felt him gently pull the neck of your t-shirt away from your body to peek at your back. You heard his breath hitch as he looked. Was it that bad? “Good god (y/n),” he breathed out.

“What, is it bad?”

“Don’t you feel how bad it is? Your entire back is bruised. I think there’s some blood too.”

“Damn.”

“First, language. Second, that’s all you have to say? Aren’t you in pain?”

“Yeah, but the pain pills are gonna kick in soon. I’ll be fine.”

“Would you be able to play tonight? I really think you should sit this one out.”

“No, I’m playing tonight Dad.”

“(Y/n),” oh no, he was using his stern dad voice. “It’s not a good idea to play tonight. You’re hurt, I’m sure they’ll understand if you sit this one out.”

You felt frustration rise up in you. “We’re in the semifinals. They need me, I’m the main setter. They’d lose without me playing.”

“(Y/n), I’m serious. You’re not playing today.”

“Dad, I am playing today. Look, I’ll talk to Coach Williams to see if I could be rotated out more often. I know she’d let me.”

He stared at you for a while before sighing. He knew there was no convincing you. “...Fine. But you better talk to Coach Williams about sitting out for a bit if your back hurts too much or I swear I’ll drag you off the court myself.”

You smiled a little at the small victory. “Thank you! I promise I’ll sit out if needed.”

He quirked an eyebrow at you. “If needed?”

You sighed, “when needed.”

He walked over to the pot, stirring the contents slightly. “That’s better. Dinner’s almost ready, I made some pasta.”

“It smells good, but I think I’m skipping out on it for today. I already ate this apple and if I eat any more I’ll probably hurl on the court.”

He made a displeased noise in the back of his throat, “fine, but you’re eating something when we get home tonight.”

He walked off to go get your brothers and Tubbo for dinner. You could hear their booming steps racing down the stairs towards the kitchen. They raced into the kitchen and almost crashed into the back of your chair. You stood up and looked at the two excitable fifth graders. “Careful boys, don’t want you getting hurt.”

“You’re no fun (y/n),” Tommy whined.

“Sure, sorry bout that,” Tubbo beamed at you.

You chuckled, making your way upstairs to get ready for your match. You took off your clothes with great difficulty and slipped on your jersey and your spandex shorts. They were way too short for your tastes, but you couldn’t wear longer ones, they’d just get in the way. You fondly remembered how your dad flipped out when he first saw you in them, he hated them with a burning passion. He still hates how short they are.

When you were struggling with pulling your hair back into a tight, sleek ponytail, the back of your head throbbed continuously with pain. You most likely bruised your scalp. 

You slipped on your shoes that were made specifically for playing volleyball and headed downstairs. You were met with Tommy and Tubbo jumping in excitement seeing you in your uniform. They loved going to your matches, even if they would always pass out in the car after them because matches usually ended late at night. You grabbed your dad’s keys and headed to his car. Before you could lead the boys out the door, Philza’s voice stopped you.

“(Y/n), coat.”

You huffed, grabbing your coat and putting it on before tossing him his keys. You four got into the car and set out for the high school. The short drive was filled with Tommy and Tubbo asking you questions about volleyball and encouraging you. “(Y/n), you’re gonna kick their butts!”

“Yeah!” Tubbo cheered 

Despite their voices causing a spike of pain to shoot throughout your head, you laughed at their enthusiasm. It was always nice to hear your little brother and pseudo brother in the stands cheering you on, they were your and your team’s personal cheerleaders. 

Not long after you got to the school, you were stretching with your team on the gym’s floor. Your posse found their way into the stands, sitting in the front row. The away team watched your team like a hawk, analysing every single player for any weakness. It was because of them that you tried to not show any pain when you moved your back. You talked to Coach Williams before the team stretch and she was obviously sympathetic with your situation. She agreed to switching you out with the standby setter every few rotations. 

The echo of the whistles caused pain to ring in your head every time someone scored or a foul was called. Your team captain, Haley, was constantly, yet discreetly checking on you throughout the game since she was always next to you. She was the team’s main spiker after all. 

The game droned on and on before you realized that the opposing team was targeting you when they were offensive. They probably realized that you were injured a round ago. You tried your best to block every ball that was sent your way, but a few managed to slip past you when you couldn’t move fast enough. This team was good, but your team was better. 

The score during the final round was tied and the clock was on it’s last ten seconds as the ball soared your way. You dove to hit it, landing on your shoulder on the hard floor and hitting it up high enough for Haley to spike the ball down. The crowd went wild as the ball bounced off from the opposite end of the court almost simultaneously with the screeching of the referee’s whistle, signifying the end of the game and your team’s victory.

You laid on the floor in pain, you thought you must’ve pulled your tender muscles in your back and shoulder. It hurt to move it. You felt one of your teammates grab your hand to yank you up into a giant full team group hug. You yelped slightly in pain as you felt arms press against your back and hands firmly patting your bruised shoulders. You were whisked away into the locker room to change into the pajamas you brought with you. 

“(Y/n), are you alright? That was a pretty hard fall.” Haley’s soft voice asked you. You felt your heart sing in your chest. 

“Yeah Hales, I’m fine. I just pulled a few muscles.”

Her perfectly shaped eyebrows furrowed together, “are you sure? As your team captain and your friend, I’m worried about you.”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. You felt warm knowing that she cared about you. “I’m sure, worrywart.”

She rolled her eyes playfully and breathed out a soft laugh. “Sorry for asking, grump.” Her laugh sounded like music to your ears. 

Your phone vibrated in your pajama pocket, alerting you of your family waiting for you in the car and for you to hurry up. You sighed, “sorry Hales, I gotta go. Dad’s getting impatient.” 

She gave you a small smile. “Oh, well, tell your family I said hi! Good work on the court today, I wouldn’t ask for a different setter.”

You felt your cheeks warm up and you watched with wide eyes as she left the locker room. Your phone vibrated again, your dad was really starting to get impatient. 

You walked out of the school as fast as you could to find your dad’s car waiting for you up front. Jumping in and softly closing the passenger side door, you slumped against the window. “(Y/n),” Tommy’s tired voice slurred. “That. Was. Pog…”

You glanced back to see him and Tubbo snoring away in their seats. Your match was more exciting than usual, so that must’ve really tired them out. You chuckled, turning back around to lean against the window. You took care not to put any weight on your shoulder or back. 

“(Y/n), you were amazing out there, but why did you dive for that ball? That fall looked like it hurt.”

You hummed tiredly, “thanks Dad. I just did what I thought would win us the game. We’re going to finals!” You quietly sang. 

“Did you hurt your shoulder?”

“I actually don’t know, but I think I might’ve pulled a few muscles. Nothing too bad.”

“...I scheduled a doctor’s appointment for you tomorrow morning during your first and second blocks. I want you to get your back, shoulder, and head looked at. You looked miserable the entire match.”

You sighed, too tired to argue, “mmk.”

He chuckled before the car fell into a comfortable silence. The gentle bouncing of the car and the subtle hum of the engine was lulling you to sleep. Your eyelids were drooping by the time you pulled into your driveway. 

You drug yourself out of the car and into the house, leaving Philza with the sleeping boys. You walked straight to your room and plopped down on your bed, passing out instantly for the second time that day.

Series taglist (comment if you want to be added):

♡ starting prompt: “Everything changed for me when I met her... My Beloved.”

♡ pairing: yandere! damian wayne (Robin) & fem reader

♡ lyric inspiration: “imagine me and you? I do. I think about day and night, it’s only right, to think about the girl you love and hold her tight. so happy together.” 

♡ note: not checked for grammar or spelling mistakes / in this AU everyone in the batfamily is a yandere and probably has a darling so yeah.

Gotham Academy, for the wealthy and elite one might say. you were one of the lucky ones who got accepted through their scholarship programs and busted your ass off to keep your grades up all years. 

you had very few friends considering most Academy students hardly interacted those who they deemed poor. one friend you did have though was the Wayne heir himself. Damian was one of the first to introduce himself to you when you first arrived to Gotham Academy and really remained your friend throughout the years. 

the fresh morning air blew in the wind, making you pull your jacket closer to you as you tried to find warmth in it. the jackets they provided for your uniform were extremely thin and hardly held in any kind of heat. 

“hey! I think the Wayne kid is looking for you!” you heard your friend, Reagan tell you, “he’s waiting for you at the central garden!” you gave him a smile, thanking him for letting you know before running to where Damian usually was in the morning. 

your mornings with Damian, when he would attend school, would start with him bringing you your favorite coffee and switching homework assignments. 

unlike Damian, you were usually better in courses that had to do with humanities, such as history and english courses and you lacked the smarts that Damian had with science and math courses so the two of you would swap homework first thing in the morning. 

“good morning Wayne,” you said, sitting down on the bench. he handed you his coffee, blowing it to make sure it wasn’t too hot, “good morning, beloved. how did you sleep?” he asked, making sure your eye bags weren’t too harsh. 

you shrugged, “I’m okay. just stressed because of midterms and all of that. how did you sleep?” you asked, taking a sip of coffee. “great considering we fell asleep on Facetime together,” he mentioned, “I did the ap calc homework that you can finally copy!” he added on. 

Damian handed you the calc homework as he watched you scribble down the answers. he noticed that you had painted your nails a new color and touched the polish with his finger, “baby blue? that’s new,” he murmured. you nodded happily, “I love this color on me. I even brought color with me in case it chipped throughout the day!” you exclaimed. 

you showed him the bottle and he grabbed it, “put it on me,” you were taken back by the request. you didn’t take Damian was the kind of guy to dabble in wearing polish but nevertheless complied and put the polish on it before grabbing his hand and blowing on it to make it dry quicker, “I didn’t know you wore nail polish!” you mentioned. 

Damian thought for a moment. 

“I don’t but that way people will know we’re matching,” he murmured as the warning bell rang off. 

you and Damian walked slowly to your first period class. the summer going into your Senior year, Damian made it a duty of his to make sure that the two of you shared the same classes. so without you knowing, he had Tim hack into the Gotham Academy school system and pull Damian onto the rosters where you were enrolled in. 

you found the similarities to be funny, however; some of the teachers wondered how the hell they put the two of you in every class together. some didn’t care considering you were able to keep Damian from saying smart shit to someone in class and others were just weirded out by the coincidence. 

“god, I hate this class. you know Matt who sits in front of the class? I have to swear some gross comment about how great my legs look in the uniform by him at least twice every day.” 

Damian’s eye twitched at what you had said, “does it bother you?” he asked, his fist clenched. you nodded annoyingly, “more than anything in the world. I can’t go one day without hearing the comments,” you groaned. 

the two of you got to class but as you walked in, you had saw that Matt wasn’t in class and sighed in relief. Damian had told you he was running off to the bathroom before class started and just to write down whatever he missed while he was gone. 

you sat down, immediately writing what was already on the board but as the class started, Damian still hadn’t shown up. you were beginning to think that maybe the coffee had upset his stomach but about half way through the class, Damian came and plopped down at his desk. 

“where were you? Jackson nearly had a fit because you were late!” you muttered to him. he shrugged, taking out his pen and notebook before leaning over to copy what you had on yours.

it took about another twenty minutes when another teacher ran into the class frantically, “Matthew Harrison was just found in the garden, unconscious and is barely hanging onto his life!” the teacher told your teacher, making all of you gasp in surprise, “call an ambulance!” 

you stared to Damian wide eyed, “my God, that’s insane! we were just there. I wonder who did it,” you told Damian, chewing your lip nervously, “I hope whoever did it doesn’t come for any of us.”

Damian could tell you were scared from the news and he quickly grabbed your hand, “I think you’re safe, beloved. you shouldn’t worry about it,” he assured you. you nodded, going back to writing down the notes, “hey, he finally got what he deserved for harassing you, right?” Damian mentioned. 

you laughed shaking your head, “I guess but I mean, I hope he doesn’t die or anything,” that was the last thing you said before the both of you got to working on the work the teacher assigned for the class while she was gone.

Damian could tell you were shaken by the news but at the end of the day, he did what he had to do. someone was harassing his beloved and he’d be damned if they got away with it. it took every ounce of self restriction to stop himself from actually killing the idiot but the beating he actually gave him did more than enough to satisfy him for the time being.

two broken legs, a broken nose, and making him go blind in one eye was more than enough. the great thing about Gotham Academy was that because of how old the building was, cameras weren’t installed anywhere outside and any cameras that were inside were just in the upgraded part of the school which happened to be the front of the school and the gym. 

the end of the day came as Damian had offered to take you home. you denied the request, telling him you wanted to walk to get some fresh air before you trapped yourself in your room for the rest of the night. 

Damian was hesitant on letting you but at the end of the day, you weren’t his...yet. he knew his feelings for you weren’t exactly normal. far from it, actually. 

when his feelings for you boiled over to damn near obsession, he confided in the one person he trusted the most and that was Dick. he practically confessed how he needed to be near or around you every day or else he would go insane. even if it was just seeing you from afar made his day a 100x better. 

Dick laughed at his brothers confession because he knew it was about time it happened to him. he had gone through the same feelings when he met his now wife and so did Bruce, Tim, Duke, and Jason. 

when Damian was finally confident enough to tell everyone else, they finally let him in on the family secret. these feelings were nothing to be afraid of. he should embrace them and hell, make his feelings get even ‘worse’. it was his job as your protector to feel that way and act on his instincts for you. 

Damian got home, seeing his father and brother watching the news. they were covering what happened at school and a part of him laughed seeing the coverage. 

“did you see what happened?” Dick asked his brother. Damian nodded, kicking off his shoes and laying on the other couch, “of course I did because I was the one who did it,” he said nonchalantly. 

Bruce and Dick stared at him, wide eyed and shocked, “the scum was messing with my beloved. he was making disgusting comments about her and degrading her in a way she and I didn’t like. the piece of shit deserved more than what he got,” he stated, not even bothering to look at them to see their reaction.

“so it’s best we don’t investigate this, I assume?” Bruce asked, “you would assume right,” Damian replied. 

Dick got off the couch and went on one knee to look at his brother, “Damian, you know the implications that comes with how you left him. you know that, right?” he stated. Damian stared at Dick with no fear in his eyes, “everything changed for me when I met her... my beloved. I would kill for her if I had too.” 

Bruce sat in his seat, proudly smirking at what his son said. Dick nodded, walking back to the couch as Damian stood up to go to his bedroom, “it’s only a matter of what before I make her mine so expect her to be around soon enough,” he told them.

+

a few weeks had passed since the incident with your classmate. since then, you had gotten clingier to Damian, not wanting to be at the end of the beating. Daimian had no issue in it, he was practically basking in the touches and side hugs you were giving him. 

you and Damian had decided to head back to his place after school to get some studying done. Friday nights were usually reserved to studying at your place but Damian had offered to make you dinner at his place and study before watching a few movies. 

you had never been over the Wayne manor before and frankly, you were kind of scared to run into his father. THE Bruce Wayne would most likely be in attendance and meeting the most powerful man in Gotham would probably scare anyone. 

Damian unlocked the gate, quickly taking your backpack as you snuggled into his jacket. you were immediately welcomed by his butler, Alfred who offered to put both of you bags in the hallway so no one would step over them. you thanked him profusely, making Damian mutter to you that that’s why he was here. to serve you. 

“so, what would you like to eat, beloved? I can make you anything you desire,” he boasted. you looked at the cookbook that was laid next to you and flipped through the first few pages, “this sounds nice,” you pointed to the plant based steak with veggies.

Damian quickly got to work, making the veggies first as he offered for you taste them every now and again. you would usually relay a kiss on his cheek as he finally got to cooking the steak. you couldn’t help but wonder how he got to be such a great cook, however; as he was finishing plating the food, you saw his father as well as you assumed were his brothers. 

“uh Damian?” you mentioned, pointing to the three men who walked in. Damian sighed knowing that of course his brothers were going to come and annoy him, “who’s your friend?” Dick asked, putting his chin on his hand. 

“this is ( your name ), my beloved,” he told them proudly. you were a bit taken back by the nickname he so easily used on you, “ahh, we’ve heard so much about you,” Tim continued, “she’s so pretty....she’s not like other girls,” Dick mocked. 

your face felt a burning sensation as Bruce told his sons to be quiet, “nice to meet you ( your name ),” Bruce introduced, “welcome to the family,” you barely caught what he said as Damian excused the two of you to go up to his bedroom. 

“your family is...nice,” you tried to say without sounding nervous. Damian rolled his eyes, “they’re bunch of idiots. that’s what they are,” he muttered, not bothering to look back at them. 

once you got to his room, your mouth dropped a bit. you had never seen such a luxurious bedroom before. satin sheets, the coldest pillows, his bedroom could probably house a family if he really wanted too and the fact that this was his bedroom, you were taken back. 

“wow, so this is how the rich and famous live?” you joked, sitting down on his bed. he shook his head, “all this means nothing to me...as long as you’re with me, I’d be the happiest person alive,” you stared at Damian, wondering if what he said was really true. 

the two of you ate, mostly in silence as you tried to take what Damian had said. there had been rumors floating around Gotham Academy that Damian might’ve liked you. you tried to dispel the rumors, claiming that someone like you was no where near Damian’s type but now that you were hearing the words he was telling you, you were more keen on acting on his feelings. 

after finishing dinner, he offered for you to join him on his bed to watch a movie. you had never actually gotten to hang out with Damian outside of school. since you were always so busy doing schoolwork and Damian always had things to take care of, as he put it, you two never relaxed together. 

the aura in the room was cozy as he offered you a very expensive looking blanket to cover you up from the chilly air coming from his window. the movie the two of you picked was some random rom-com, it felt kind of stupid to be watching this kind of movie with Damian but at some point, you stopped paying attention to the movie and looked up to him. 

“did you really mean what you said earlier?” you whispered to him. he gave you a confused look, “of course I did. would I ever lie to you?” he said back, kind of offended that you would even accuse him of lying. 

you sat back up on the bed and turned to fix yourself as you finally gave him a kiss. Damian’s eyes widened, not expecting you to do that to him. regardless, he immediately pulled you on top of him and deepened the kiss by pushing you up against him. 

Damian slid his hands in the back pocket of your skirt, finding it a bit confusing why the uniforms even had pockets on the skirts. he gripped your ass a bit, making you moan in surprise as Damian tried his hardest to contain himself but failing as he slipped his tongue into yours. 

the two of you remained kissing for what felt like hours. you knew your lips were bound get bruised from the amount of tugging Damian was doing but by the time you pulled away, you could see the faintest of blushes appearing on Damian’s brown skin. 

“wow, didn’t know you felt like that for me,” you muttered shyly. Damian chuckled, giving you a quick peck, “I have feelings you wouldn’t even begin to understand but one day....one day you will,” he replied. 

you didn’t pay no mind to his reply as he had brought you down for another kiss. what you didn’t catch was the smirk playing on his face. he knew that once graduation came, there would already be a ring on that left ring finger and soon enough, you’d be baring his heirs. 

the Wayne’s got what they wanted. it didn’t matter what they had to do to get it but what the Wayne’s wanted, they got. 

🗣 TEACHER!AU WITH JOHNNY

PART TWO! LET’S GET IT!

pairing. history teacher! seo johnny ✗ english teacher! fem! reader (ft. english teacher! mark lee)

genre. fluff, slight humor, high school teacher au, non idol au

warnings. some cursing and super soft hours after this huhu <3 and not proofread but we can discuss that later

author’s note. this is an continuation to this blurb! this could be read as a standalone but regardless i hope this brought a smile to your face bc it certainly did for me <3

You should’ve seen it coming. Damn it, it was right in front of you all along, so why didn’t you see it in the first place?

You and your students have been grinding nonstop for the past couple weeks to prep them for the AP English IV exam. There was a time where you requested two days off from work for emergency purposes (thankfully it was nothing too major) leaving you to ask your coworker- Mark, another teacher in your department -to help fill in your students on materials needed for the exam.

Everything was perfectly fine when you came back, your coworker going beyond your expectations in taking care of your students. However, one thing you failed to take notice of is the recent changes the college board made in their AP exams, including the course you teach. After reviewing some of the revisions they made, you felt your heart drop.

They’ve added three additional sections to the exam, meaning an additional two weeks is needed to cover the materials for your students to grasp some sort of mastery on those concepts.

You have four weeks left until the exam, and you’re already compacted those remaining weeks with other necessary materials for the exam.

“Fucking hell,” you murmured under your breath.

Running your hand through your hair, you let out a tired sigh. It’s already bad enough that you have to work overtime in making revisions to your lesson plans. However, it’s worse to see the crestfallen looks on your students’ faces when you dropped the news on them. They’re already tired enough from dealing with other classes and extracurricular activities. On top of that, you know most of them are stressing about their acceptance letters from their colleges.

You dropped the pen in your hand and rubbed both of your eyelids. Relax, y/n you told yourself. Don’t worry, you can do this. You heard the door behind you open, meaning someone walked inside the teacher’s lounge.

“Hey, y/n. What’s up- Woah, woah, WOAH! What do we have here?” the person exclaimed. You let out a chortle. You could distinctively point that voice out from anywhere, and you’re sure as hell that the state of your workspace is nothing short of hell. Taking your hands away from your face, you crossed your arms and leaned back a little in your seat to look up at the latter.

“Well, hello to you too, Mark,” you chuckled. You both gave each a fist bump before he sits down in the empty chair beside you.

“What the hell happened here?” He grabs some of the documents splayed out before you, eyes scanning through the materials that you’ve scribbled on in the past hour. “Wait, what? They added new things to the AP exam?”

You sighed and nodded dejectedly. “Yep. And somehow, I gotta squeeze all those materials into my lesson plans before they take it next month.” You rested your arms on the table and rested your head on top of them. “At this point, I just want to light myself on fire and call it a day.”

Mark lets out a cackle besides you, prompting you to smile. You’ll never mention it to him, but his laughs and smiles are always infectious. It’s what makes him so well-known and loved in the English department in the first place, both faculties and students.

“Please don’t do that. We love you too much to let you do that to yourself,” he responded.

Sitting back up in your seat, you take a glance at the clock. Just four minutes before the section ends and you have to go back to teaching your classes again. You heard your coworker clear his throat, bringing you to face him.

“Do you need help with any of this?” he offered.

You shook your head. “No, it’s fine, Mark. I appreciate the offer but I don’t want to bother you with my workload.”

“No, really. It’s fine, y/n. I only teach honors and they’re all pretty ahead in their assignments, so I have some free time if you’d like.”

Just like that, you swear you could see a halo shining above his figure, your world much brighter and clearer than it was this morning. “Oh my god, yes please.” You shifted through your papers, searching the remnants of the piles before handing it over to him. “Can you please go through these and grade them for me? Here are the answer keys for them.” After debriefing him for that stack of papers, you gave him another one. “And for these, can you make some copies for me? I need them tonight so I can plan for tomorrow’s class.”

He listened attentively to your commands, taking a mental note and nodding each instruction given to him. “Okay, got it, y/n. I’ll get these done and hand them over by the end of the day.”

You’re gawking at him, surprised that your coworker is willing to lend you a helping hand. You could honestly cry out tears of joy right now, but timing refuses to let you do so as the bell rings, marking the end of a period. You both stood up in your seats and grabbed the papers on the table into a neat pile. You let out a content sigh as you both walked out the teacher’s lounge.

“Thank you so much, Mark. You’re the best,” you exhaled. Outside your classroom, you already see some students entering inside as you left it unlocked, free for them or your coworkers to enter as they pleased. You both stood next to its entrance before he shrugs his shoulders at you.

“Hey, I mean it’s what I do best, right? Being the best.”

You rolled your eyes and gave him a playful shove, earning a laugh from him. Saying goodbyes to one another, you walked inside your classroom. You nodded to the students present. “Afternoon, class,” you greeted.

“Good afternoon, Miss y/n!”

“Miss Y/n, there’s a bouquet of flowers on your desk,” one of your students called out. You raised an eyebrow. Flowers? Looking over to your desk, your student was certainly not lying and neither are your eyes. Perched in the middle of your desk lies a vase filled with varying colors of tulips. Petals are in full bloom and the stems are clipped uniformly. You walked over and saw a notecard attached to one of the flowers.

“Who is it from, Miss Y/n?”

“Yeah! Who got you flowers?”

You looked up and realized more of your students are present, capacity almost at its max. Class was starting soon so more and more are rushing in to see the surprise gift settled on your desk.

“Is it Mr. Kim in the science department? I saw you two walking together in the hallways last week.”

That assumption piqued your interest. “Wait, Mr. Kim? The physics teacher?” you asked. The student, Krystal, nodded, causing you to huff incredulously. “Krystal, please. We’re merely just friends.”

Another student chimes in. “Friends don’t lock arms with each other at work.”

“Jongin, please. Your last girlfriend only stayed with you for a month and she started dating an upperclassman a week later.”

“Hey—”

“Guys, calm down,” you interjected. “As much as I love you crazy bunch, I am still your teacher. Therefore, what occurs in my personal life stays private, and how much I am willing to share with you all lies in my discretion.” But unbeknownst to you, one of your students sneaks behind you to get a glance of the card, discreetly reading the contents:

‘The best deserves nothing less than the best.

Yours truly.’

The student, Luna, almost lets out a squeal. “Guys! Guys!” You jumped in shock, startled by her sudden presence and her high-pitched voice. “I think it’s Mr. Lee! The other English teacher!”

All attention is now on her, excitement filled in the air.

“Mr. Lee? The one that teaches honors?”

“The one with boba eyes?”

“The one that laughs at everything?”

Luna nods to each question, visibly thrilled with the subtle jump in her steps as she walked towards her classmates. “Yes! I heard Miss y/n calling him the best earlier and Mr. Lee joked about being the best! And in the card, it said ‘the best deserves nothing less than the best’.” The bell rang, marking the beginning of the period, but that didn’t stop your students from chattering with happiness, faces completely wiped from fatigue and stress of the upcoming exams. Some students entered your classroom late to the discussion, prompting other students to fill them in only to also be electrified by the ‘news’.

You run a hand through your hair again and sighed. Not this again, you thought to yourself. But just before you could jump in to stop all this chaos, you heard someone knock on your open door, diverting your attention and your class’ to the intruder.

“Well, good afternoon, class,” the person chuckled. “Why’s it so boisterous here? Did I miss a party or something?”

Of course, what better person to appear now of all times? It was none other than the infamous history teacher, Johnny Seo. You rolled your eyes before laughing. Coincidence, my ass.

“Mr. Seo! Someone gave Miss Y/n a bouquet of tulips! She has a secret admirer!” Luna stated.

He raised an eyebrow at her direction. “Oh, does she now?” He looks back at you with a grin. “Did Miss Y/n find out who this secret admirer is?”

“We think it’s Mr. Lee from honors English.”

“And what makes you think so?”

“Because we heard her call him the best earlier before class started, and the notecard called her the best.”

“Coincidence? I think not,” Jongin nodded.

All of the students followed along in unison, profoundly proud of their assumptions that left you shaking your head in disbelief. Surely, you had a smile on your face, but it’s surprising to know how your students are able to make such large assumptions based on groundless evidence. You sat down in your chair and turned on your computer, getting your lesson plan ready for the period as your students entertained themselves with Mr. Seo.

Johnny takes it all in, nodding to all of them before walking up behind your desk. “Well, I think it’s safe to say that you don’t pester too much to Miss y/n about it. You know how much she likes to keep her life private.” While you were browsing through your saved files and pulling up powerpoints, you felt the latter tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Right, Mrs. Seo?”

And just like that, your hands stilled. Wait, did he just—

“Hold up..”

“What?”

“Did you just—”

“Mrs. Seo?”

“Huh?”

You squeezed your eyelids shut. Oh my god, here we go again—

“YOU GUYS ARE MARRIED??”

jeongvision’s milestone event!

18+ Minors do not interact.

𝐓𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞: 𝘚𝘢𝘱𝘪𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘹𝘶𝘢𝘭. {𝘊𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘦 𝘈𝘶} 𝘗𝘢𝘳𝘵 2/2 (𝘙𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵) (12/?)

𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: [Name] was a student of Mr Levi Ackerman’s, and is now his teaching assistant, he’s training her. But she’s been helplessly in love with her English Professor for years, and as winter break rolls around, she’s determined to make her feelings known before the new year begins...

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.5k

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Mutiple Sex Positions, Mutual Pining, Sex, Mirror Sex, Student x Teacher, Soft Levi Ackerman, Age Gap (Reader is a grown adult).

Notes: My take on a student x teacher request✨

The three most influential Alumni of Paradis College, are the ‘Bookworm’, the ‘Nerd’ and the ‘Ape’. Names affectionately given to each other-of course, there's Erwin Smith, head of the Sports Department, Hange Zoe, head of the Science Department and Levi Ackerman, head of the English Department. It's incredibly rare for all three of them to finally get a night out together, as life has certainly intervened over the years, but the bond remains as strong as ever, as they sip their beers and chat idly, just like they did in back in the good ol' days.

"[Name], will be joining the gang soon enough, right Levi?" asks an excited Hange.

"I wish Moby worked in my Department." Hange's husband works in the Psychology Department, though they're still a known power couple out of all the professors on campus nonetheless.

"What's that suppose to mean?" Levi moodily mumbles back.

"You don't have to lie to us Levi." Their tone serious yet playful, but Levi only glares back.

"What! You’re cute together!"

"Come on Levi, don't be like that." chuckles Erwin as he grimaces at Levi's, ever so familiar scowl.

"It's our first night out for a while, be a good sport!"

"Is all of your vocabulary sports based, you ape."

"Hey!" Erwin laughs heartily, not taking Levi to seriously, since he's more than accustomed, to his less than sunny disposition.

"I'm going to the bathroom." he huffs, standing up abruptly, shaking the table as he roughly pushes his stool back under it.

"He's going to wash his hands isn't he?" giggles Hange, taking a hearty swig of their pint.

"Of course, did you see his face when first he touched that beer mat, bet he's been dying to this whole time!" they laugh merrily together, the old trio reunited for the night.

"Hange, I think...maybe he had a fight with [name], or something-I don't know?...I mean I think I walked in on them ear-"

"Here I thought they'd done it already." chuckles Hange. "But good, I'm glad, let's just hope Levi fixes it then."

"Will he?"

"Of course, I can see he doesn't want to lose her."

"Well good, because he deserves to find the same happiness we have, doesn't he?" their eyes warm, as they place a reassuring hand to Erwin's forearm.

"Stop, he will."

*****

"Hange gone already?" questions Levi, as he arrives back to the table.

"They told me to tell you bye! Moblit rang them all bunged up with a cold, so naturally, they rushed home to take care of him, my dads sending them his famous chicken soup recipe as we speak."

"It's cos he drinks too much. That man needs to cut back."

"And speaking of getting sober, wanna go grab a coffee? Gotta train my soldiers first thing in the morning." Erwin beams clasping his hands together in excitement.

"You mean your frat boys." Levi huffs, but pats his shoulder supportively, his face softening and his eyes smiling. "You're doing good with them though, I'm happy for you, I'm sure you'll all win this game."

They pay, gather their coats and walk towards the exit of the bar.

"Oh yeah! By the way Hange says to give [name] a kiss from them, because she's the and I quote, ‘the prettiest woman they've ever seen’.”

"Fucking four eyes." Levi sighs, rubbing the space between his eyebrows, while Erwin starts to grab the attention of a passing taxi until it stops.

"Where you going gents?"

"Halo Waffle House."

"Sure get in."

"Erwin! That's where [name] works." he hisses.

"Yes Levi, I know- sharp as always! She's probably not even working now, it's late, so just get in." he laughs, opening the door for him.

"Come on lets hit the road Jack!" he clicks goofily.

"You and your fucking dad lingo."

"Ahaa, in now, son!" he giggles tipsily.

"I'm only coming with you because you're clearly in no state to handle yourself."

"You guys getting in or what?!"

"Tch."

***********

"Mr Ackerman?" The other waitress you're working with, had pulled you napping of the staff room sofa in an absolute frenzy, hammering on about two hot men grabbing some late night coffee, little did you know she meant these two guys, specifically, you didn't know it would be Levi.

Fuck.

"Evening, sir." You smile, trying your best to not show how flustered you are, especially as you quickly realise that your hair is probably sticking up, having just woken up. Levi only curtly nods, trying to avoid your gaze, his teeth gritted.

She is working tonight then. Fucking Erwin. He probably knew somehow.

"Evening, Mr Smith." you chirp, turning your body to the flushed and slightly drunk face of the blonde Paradis Sport Coach, lightly scowling at Levi out of the corner of your eye.

"Evening [name]! How long you been working here then?" Erwin smiles invitingly, leaning his chin into his palm.

"Only this past year."

"Working on a Friday though, seems brutal!" he laughs, as he stirs sugar cubes into his tea.

"Well I'm leaving for winter break Sunday. So I thought I'd get an extra shift in so I can relax tomorrow before I have to go on Sunday morning."

"So you're going to be off from campus for two weeks right?”

"I will." Erwin's eyes plead with Levi's.

"Will you miss me sir?" you blurt out, having the feeling Erwin definitely knew now, even if he didn't earlier on Campus, the look to Levi just now, spoke a thousand words.

Erwin blushes ferociously into his mug, while Levi raises an eyebrow at you, trying to hold back a smile at your undaunted flirtation.

"You know," You sigh, "grading all those papers alone that is, lotta' work." you correct smoothly.

"I will be grading papers alone, but oh well." he shrugs, a smug look in his eyes.

"Enjoy your break though [name].”

"Thanks." you reply flatly, pursing your lips in annoyance, you guys literally had sex a few hours ago, and he's acting this cold?

"Do you want to go for a drink tomorrow night? Last chance before the new year?" He shoots you an amused glare, knowing you're doing this purposely because Erwin is here.

"I don't kno-"

"Yes he will!" grins Erwin, clapping his hands together in excitement.

"In fact! My fathers restaurant has a great atmosphere on Saturday nights, perfect for a date! Will you guys go there? He'd love to see you Levi, it's been a while." Levi covers his face with his hand, deeply sighing for a moment.

"Date." You're embarrassing me. Fuck sake.

"She's your favourite student after all, right Levi?"

"Yes...she is." he huffs, making Erwin laugh as he scowls at him, sensing his intentions, before turning back to you.

"Aren't you working a little late [name]?"

"I take later shifts so I can help you with your workload more." he sighs into his teacup but smiles up at you softly, making you melt.

"[Name], I don't want you tiring yourself out because of me." he speaks firmly.

"Oh, I'm not-it's fine, I know what I can handle." you hum, burning your gaze into Levi's, he licks his lips-taken aback, craning his head as he looks up at you, smirking with an eyebrow raised, obviously picking on up your suggestive tone.

"That you can [name]." he smiles daringly, following you with ease, as he tilts back in his chair with a smug look, you turn your attention back to Erwin for a moment. His face is as visibly flustered as yours, as he watches you two, so obviously resist each other.

"And that sounds great, thank you Mr Smith, you up for it sir?" You smirk smugly, looking back at Levi in challenge once more, again adding a cheeky double meaning to your words.

"Yes, I am."

"We'll go."

"Ahh...Great! I'll send Levi the details."

"And [name], Hange and I were wondering, will you be joining Levi's department after you complete your training?" Erwin smiles attempting to cut through the coarse sexual tension at the table, while Levi furrows his brows at him.

"I will, almost finished all my training for my teaching credential now, thanks to Mr Ackerman."

"I'm sure he looks forward to gaining you as a colleague." he grins.

"I hope so!" You catch the other waitress on shift with you glaring and sigh.

"Anyway enjoy your coffee guys! I have to get back to work!" they wave you off and you walk away clenching your fists in excitement, tomorrow night you'll be on a ‘date’ with him.

"Levi, let's cut the shit shall we? Don't let her slip away, you two are clearly right for each other." he tells him, banging his fists lightly on the table, as Levi goes to open his mouth to protest, Erwin shushes him immediately, holding his palms up in surrender to Levi's signature stare down.

"I don't want to hear it mister. Just open up, okay bud." he smiles, sending a quick text before standing up and tapping his back supportively.

"Tch."

"Miche's here, he's picking me up."

"Leaving already? You sneaky shit." Levi scowls, making Erwin chuckle.

"Wait for her to finish."

"I don't need you to tell me that, I was gonna anyway." Erwin grins, rolling his eyes at him as he adjusts his coat, he's never seen Levi like this before, it's refreshingly new.

"Night."

"Night!"

And with that he waves and exits the cosy Waffle House, winking at Levi with a firm thumbs up before slipping out the door.

"I wish things could be that easy Erwin. But thank you." he sighs, swirling the chamomile tea around in his mug, pinching his nose bridge as his brain overwhelmingly swims with thoughts, so many thoughts that he rests his head on his arms against the table.

He only trusts its clean because of the amount of times you'd ranted to him about your fellow co-workers not wiping of the tables properly, so he knows you have, the familiar lemon-y disinfectant smell present. Something you often smell of before and after shifts, he finds it relaxing him, as his eyes slowly shut, and he drops into a light sleep.

*****

"You're still here." a soft voice whispers into his ear making him jump, reaching his head up from the table groggily.

"Yeah-I was waiting for you to finish."

"Oh?" you wink.

"Yes." he sighs, shooting you a warning look.

"Well I've finished now." you soothe. Patting his back to join you in leaving.

"Come on. Let's go."

"Wait, where?" he asks disoriented, rubbing his eyes to adjust to the light of the restaurant, swigging back the rest of his now cold tea, before throwing on his coat and heading to the exit with you.

"Come home with me, it's too late for you to be venturing all the way across the city now." He freezes at the doorway.

"[Name].” he huffs, shooting you another look.

"I live 5 minutes away from here, remember. Stop being stubborn." you grin, lightly punching his shoulder as you walk out into the icy night.

"Fine. Thank you." he smiles, adjusting his scarf and fastening his coat up tighter as you both walk.

"So, how was your night?" you grin, snaking your arm through his as you walk, smiling to yourself when he doesn't reject the touch, continuing to walk with your arms locked together.

**********

"Where did you think you'd be sleeping?" you chuckle, as he stands in doorway of your bathroom, swirling mouthwash with a troubled expression.

"I thought you had a sofa in here or something." he sighs, his face softening at you, as you finish removing your makeup in the reflection of your mirror panelled wardrobe doors, stretching your arms out, before starting to remove your work uniform.

"[Name].”

"We're definitely past that now...Levi." you smirk, using his first name for the first time since the "incident" he sighs and turns around, waiting for you to become decent, you strip down naked behind him and throw over an oversized pyjama top.

"You can turn around now silly." he turns around and feels his heart leap at the sight of you, your hair tousled and removed from its bun it had been in for work, your skin makeup free, the loose top hanging off your body, he wishes it was one of his, you look so effortlessly perfect he can't look away.

"Levi, you're not getting in my bed with those clothes on. The germs, hell no."

He laughs at you, shaking his head, while beginning to strip, knowing damn well he'd say the same. You get into your bed and extend half of the blanket open for him, resting against your pillow and waiting. He removes all of his clothing down to his boxers, you don't look away as he gets changed either letting your eyes scan freely and hungrily, over his body. His heart thuds in his chest as he stares back at you, neither of you daring to look away, when he slips his shirt from his muscly body your mouth parts open in silent shock, you knew he was in good shape, but fuck. You can't help it as your cheeks burn hotly when he kicks his trousers off to, smiling as he meticulously folds them, resting them on top of his folded shirt on your dresser, leaving his impressive bulge for your eyes to feast upon, as it hangs heavily in his tight navy boxers. You can't take your eyes of his thighs either, so thick and shapely, you just want cover them in kisses and marks-

“Stop ogling." he chuckles.

"I'm not!" you giggle, jokingly burying your face in your pillow for a moment, before looking up at him and tapping the space next to you.

"Get in then." he walks over and tentatively lays down in the space beside you, almost hanging of the edge of the bed as he lies turned away from you, gingerly patting the blanket over his body. You click of your lamp and scooch over, wrapping your arms around his torso and resting your cheek against his back. He smiles to himself, and turns around.

You smile into your arm as he gently turns your body to lay against him, hooking an arm around your waist and resting the other above your head, leaning his hand down to stroke his fingers through your hair, lazily twirling the strands around his fingers, while his breath tickles your neck.

"Didn't take you for the big spoon." you whisper, it comes out shyer then you wanted it to.

"Tch." He smiles behind you.

"Goodnight [name].” he whispers, pressing a light kiss to your nape.

"Goodnight Levi."

*****

Five minutes have passed by and your heart is still thudding in your chest, especially, as you feel Levi's also, lightly thumping against your back, his hands are also still running through your hair, and his arm still locked around your waist. But you need more.

You sit up suddenly, startling Levi slightly as he props himself up on his elbows, looking at you in confusion, you tug the hem of your top up over your body and pull it off, leaving you naked as you lie back down. He lies his head back down, wordless behind you, his mouth a small o, as he sees the curves of your bare breasts in the lowlight breaking through your window, his cock starts to harden, as he looks down and sees your ass in front of him, reminding him of how it looked earlier when he was-

Fuck.

"[Name], what are you doing?" he murmurs, jaw clenched in frustration, wondering how he's going to to lie with you, naked.

"I'm not use to sleeping with another person, I'm hot." you smirk, getting comfy again in your place pushing your body out against him, smiling to yourself as you feel his breath quickening.

His arms reluctantly resume their positions, the one around your waist now not holding you as close, but his hand in your hair resumes it's soft trailing.

And in less than a minute, you feel something hard poking against your ass, and a deep gravelly breath sounds in your ear, and a quiet, "Fuck." leaves Levi's lips behind you.

"Ignore it."

"Well that's a little hard to do, no pun intended." you giggle.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be...just do something about it." you hum, feeling his breath catch behind you.

"We've already done- it."  he teases.

"Well we didn't finish though, did we?"

You turn your body to him, his eyes become half-lidded at the sight, his jaw dropping at the full-frontal view of your body, your collarbones, your breasts, your thighs, your hips...your pussy. You reach a hand up to his cheek, lightly smoothing your thumb over his brow bone.

"[Name], I won't able to hold back this time." he sighs deeply.

"Then don't." you whisper, and he reaches his hand out and places it on your cheek.

"I'm so happy I'll be able to see your face this time." you smirk, stroking your fingers over his heaving chest. He leans his face down to yours, the tips of your noses touching as he stares deeply into your eyes, both of your breathing stops for a split second. Both of you frozen. Your hearts racing.

Your lips start to hover over the others, touching ever so slightly, he turns his head and bites your bottom lip, before pulling it away with a grin as he stares intently at you.

"I want you." he whispers, as he lightly grabs your jaw and pulls your lips to his, the kiss is soft, his tongue exploring your mouth, your mouths slightly open as your lips suck slowly and your tongues swirl. Light gasps and moans, leave your mouths as the kiss grows rougher, the grip on your face tightening as he pulls it impossibly closer, while your hands slip through his silky black strands, pulling him further into you, wanting to remove any space left between you two. Your noses drag clumsily, teeth clicking, as he kisses you harder, slowly building you up, savouring every second, taking his time to feel every part of your lips. You open your mouth wider, allowing him to slide his tongue completely into your mouth, you suck it as he slides it over yours for a moment, speeding the pace of kiss as your heads wind together eagerly, before he pulls his tongue away in retreat, teasing you for yours. You slide yours over his and he groans as you nibble at his lips while you do it flicking it over his, you then hook your leg over his hip pulling him into your body with it, making him groan, even more.

When he pulls away, his face is completely flushed, his eyelids relaxed and dropped, his lips wet and swollen, you hold his gaze, as he looks at your dazed expression with a sultry look, grabbing onto your thigh that's hitched around his waist and pulling it closer. You feel your wetness dripping down onto the cloth of his boxers, and he looks down and back up at you with a hungry gaze, before stroking a line up glistening cunt with two fingers and bringing them up to his lips, sucking your sweetness from his fingers with a satisfied hum. Before turning you both, pinning you down on your back and straddling you.

Within seconds he begins showering your breasts in kisses, licking and nibbling at your nipples as he lowers himself down your body, using his fingers to play with your nipples as he licks and kisses at your abdomen, your hands snake through his hair as he works over your body.

He then clutches the undersides of your thighs and pulls them to rest on his shoulders, as he places his large hands on your hips, and kisses up your inner thighs until he reaches your pussy. He then kisses around your cunt, making your back arch as he purposely misses where you want him to put his mouth the most, creating a trail of marks leading to your pussy, and making you whimper as he nips at the sensitive skin between your thighs, ever so often kissing all around your pussy, still missing your clit.

"Levi, please." you whine.

"What? Can't take a little teasing [name]? You can give but you can't take, that it?" he smirks, reaching his hands down and parting your lips, before stretching his tongue out and flicking it upwards, sucking softly and letting your wetness coat his lips and slide onto his tongue. He hums to grab your attention, showing you the wetness dripping from his tongue, as he pulls his tongue away, his eyes bore up into yours, as he grins, licking your slick off his lips.

"Levi!" you blush madly, turning your face away and covering it with your forearm, he slaps your thigh gently with a soft chuckle.

"Look at me." He releases a hand from your hip and tugs your forearm away gently, pulling your hand down to his face and sucking on two of your fingers, swirling his tongue around them, as his grey eyes look up at you in earnest. You almost cum then and there, as he pulls his mouth of your fingers, and brings it back down in front of your pussy.

"Now tell me, which do you prefer [name]?" he hums.

"Huh?"

"This?" He starts to suck on your clit, slurping on it in a way that makes your brain turn to mush, and your toes curl.

"Or this?" He smiles as he flits his tongue up and down your clit at an relentless speed, making you shriek out his name and your thighs writhe around his neck.

"Fuck Levi." you moan as your hands grip his hair, shaking in pleasure, as you watch his head bob up and down on your cunt.

"Sensitive?" he teases, the vibrations of his warm breath make your pussy tingle even more, as he flicks his tongue over your clit, you moan in response, unable to speak, making him grin even more.

"Then I'll suppose we'll go with the latter." He roughly grabs onto both of your hips, his strength keeping them planted and locked down onto the mattress, restricting your movement.

"Stay still." He starts his pace slow, testing pressures until he finds the perfect one that makes your hips thrust into his lips, and your breathing spiral out of control. He looks up and smiles at the sight of your head thrown back, one hand loosely clutching his hair, and the other gripping the sheet below you as your body lurches and your hips stutter.

"Faster." you pant, he obliges immediately, increasing the pace of his wet muscle, groaning at your taste, he uses his fingers to spread your lips wider, as he laps his tongue up and down your swollen nub faster. His soft hair tickling your abdomen, adding to the sensations, you look down at him and he takes this moment to send you over the edge, spitting down onto your pussy before licking and slurping at your clit even faster, slipping one of his fingers into your opening, it's long and thick and reaches just right, as he hooks it up against your bumpy spot, scissoring his finger back and forth against it, while his tongue works faster-and faster. He then adds another finger, now two of them massaging out your orgasm, the dual stimulation making you endlessly grunt out his name, your breathing uneven as you struggle to choke them out.

"Levi, you're gonna make me cum." you moan dazedly.

"Give it to me. Cum." he groans.

“Cum for me.”

"Yes yes yes! There!" you cry out, as your thighs tighten around his neck and your cum spills down onto his lips, the translucent glistening liquid slipping down his chin, as your lower body shakes, your pussy fills with sensation and tears flow from your eyes from the overload of pleasure.

Levi's carefully slow build up bringing you to a gratifying end.

He rests his face onto your thigh, pressing soft kisses to the skin as your breathing relaxes, panting as you come down from the high, when your breathing stabilises more, he turns his face and laps up all of the liquids pooling out of your opening, luxuriating in your taste. Before pulling away and travelling up your body to kiss at your neck, creating marks all over, your arms hook around his waist, as you shift your hands down and start to pull his boxers down. You carefully shift your body down his with kisses, until he stops you, pulling you back up.

"I just want to be inside you again, we can do that next time, then it will be new to." he speaks lowly, clutching your ass with his big hands, before bringing his face to yours and kissing you deeply, your tongues rolling together as you cup his cheeks. You reach down into his boxers and pull out his cock, raising your hips above him before he stops you, grabbing your hips and breaking away from the kiss.

"No not here-" He nods over to the end of your bed, "There. I want to watch us do it." he whispers breathily, making you quiver at the thought, he reaches his thumb out and strokes it against your lip.

"Then we'll never forget it."

You grin at him and crawl to the end of the bed, resting on all fours as you smirk at him in the mirror as he approaches behind you, pulling his boxers down and off, before grabbing on to your hips. He leans down and kisses at your neck, before whispering into your ear.

"I have an better idea." he hums, making you shiver as he reclines back behind you and hoists you onto his lap.

"Spread your legs for me." he whispers, staring at your face in the mirror, you stare back at him, admiring how beautiful he looks in the light, his silvery eyes sending chills down your spine, dark and penetrating, and so full of lust. You spread them, planting the soles of your feet onto the mattress before he hooks his arms under your knees, and pulls your thighs upwards, your lower body rising. He groans into your ear, drinking in the sight of you.

"Fuck, look at you." he praises, making you shiver, his eyes locked fiercely with yours in the mirror.

"You wanna watch us [name]? Mm? You want to see me inside you?" he coos, pressing his lips into your neck, you move it aside for him to have full reign, and he instantly takes full advantage running his tongue up the side of it, making you whimper from the sensation.

"Make sure you don't look away, okay."

You groan as he reaches his hand across from under your thigh, and starts to rub your clit, nibbling at your shoulder, soft moans spill from your lips as he looks into your eyes, with his smouldering gaze.

"Now, you do the rest." he smirks, repeating your words from your first encounter, as he thrusts his hips up slightly to signal for you to put him in. You reach your hand down to his cock, palming him slightly first, stroking your fingers over the pulsing veins, to make him twitch against you. You swipe your thumb over his leaking tip, drawing his pre-cum down his shaft, his gravelly breaths choppy in your ear.

You guide his tip to your entrance, his hooked arms pull you up further as he slowly slides himself up into your sopping cunt, your hand guiding him, the soft wet noises, unholy- as he glides his length up into you, your walls eagerly accept him, drawing him in tight.

"Fuck Levi-so- deep!" you splutter.

"You feel amazing." he groans, as he begins to thrust his hips upward.

"S-so do you." you choke out, as he continues to rub firm circles against your clit, doubling your stimulation once more.

"Fuck look at us." he groans, admiring your body, grinning as your head starts to droop back onto his shoulder, your breasts slamming up and down with every stroke of his hips.

"N-no look at yourself. Now." he pants, pounding harder to grab your attention, forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror, as he delights in your face contorting with pleasure, silent moans now spilling out of it as he fucks away your voice. This is the most intimate thing you've ever done with another person, it feels so good, every part of it, his eyes on you, his hands on your body, his words, how deep he feels in this position, his voice.

"I like that face [name]." he groans, humming your name slowly against your skin, before biting down on your neck gently as he watches your brows raise and your lips catch between your teeth. He increases the speed on your clit, light squelching noises filling the room.

"I love the way you look right now [name]." He puts his lips over your ear, dragging them against it, "Fucking perfect."

"Fuck Levi!"

"We're gonna see how pretty you look when you cum." he strains.

"Take me—behind." you moan, without a further second he gently pulls himself out of you, holding your waist as he shuffles further up the bed and pushes you down on all fours in front of him, before holding on to your lower back and slowly re-entering you.

"Don't forget." he growls, as you fit tightly around him once more, lightly slapping at your ass and clutching it after he lands his hand back down, "Look!"

You look at Levi, as he begins to pound into you from behind, his head thrown back as his god like physique shines in the moonlight, groaning as every slam of his hips rams his cock in against your sweet spot.

"You feeling good?" he grunts, thrusting faster as he feels you begin to tighten around him, your fists clutching the sheet desperately as he bucks into you.

"Mm! Are you?" you moan shakily, as your body snaps back and forth as he pounds into your cunt.

"Yes-you're fucking perfect." he splutters.

The rhythm of his thrusts begin to grow wilder, his thrusts growing sloppier with every drive into your throbbing pussy. The wetness sloshes out of you now, raining down below your bodies as he continues to drive himself into you, your names choke out from each other's lips as your bodies begin to spasm.

"So much." you whimper, as you feel your pussy beginning to tense up as the pleasure takes root in your hips, warming inward from his cock. You look up in the mirror and see him watching your face scrunch as you let go, a satisfied smirk across his lips, as he shakes his hair out of his eyes, not wanting to miss a single second.

"So good!" you slur, before your body shakes and your breathing completely stops for a moment, your mouth wide open as an loud moan escapes your lips, and your body jolts.

"Fuck Levi!"

"[Name]!" he pants, as he releases himself into you, panting wildly, he continues to still thrust into you slowly, sweat dripping down his body, both of you whimpering from the extra stimulation. Your walls clench hard and sporadically around his tip, milking the last of his cum out in to you. His husky grunts fill the room one last time, before he finally pulls out and falls against you.

You feel both of your cum dribbling out of your opening and sliding down your thighs, as you take deep breaths and compose yourself. Within seconds, he wraps his big arms around your body and pulls you back to rest against his chest as he looks up at the ceiling with a huge smile on his face. You smile against his chest as your warm naked bodies rest together for a moment, his fingers tracing circles over your back and stroking through your hair, while you press lazy kisses to his chest.

"Wanna order some food?" you ask, he chuckles above you, kissing your forehead.

"Sure, what you feeling?"

"Hmm I'm not sure, happy as long as you're dessert though." You laugh winking, craning your head up to kiss his throat, as you reach your hands up and push his hair back to look at his face. He laughs deeply at you, lightly slapping your ass at your cheesy joke, while reaching down and pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, your nose, and then both your cheeks.

"What am I going to do with you?"

Previous Chapter:

11: 𝘚𝘢𝘱𝘪𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘹𝘶𝘢𝘭. {𝘊𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘦 𝘈𝘶} 𝘗𝘢𝘳𝘵 1 (𝘙𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵)

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13: 𝘑𝘶𝘭𝘺. (𝘙𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥)

MrsAckermanX 2021 ©

Hello Everyone! I've been conspiring with @sammy-jo1977 to create a new series of sorts. We want to explore all those characters that started us on our journey into Fandoms, large and small.

This series will be a place for those ladies and gents who haven't had a lot of attention recently, are old favorites or the ones you can't seem to shake. If you would like to contribute a chapter to this guide, please send me a message! We want to have a full and accurate guide, so we are hoping you'll hop in with your character of expertise!

As an example, I'm posting our first story... I'd love to get your thoughts! With Love - Your WordyNerdyGurl

In The Stacks - A Rupert Giles Story

Author’s Note:  This story is due, in large part, to my beta-bestie @sammy-jo1977 and it is part of the afore mentioned series.  This character might be off television, but his fiery spirit lives on!! As always, reblogs/ shares are encouraged as are comments and love!

Pairing:  Female Reader x Giles (Buffy The Vampire Slayer Series) Summary:  You get up to mischief with the librarian, in the stacks. Warnings:  SMUT ahead.  General Buffy knowledge might help, but is not required.  There’s a moment with a bit of blood, but hopefully nothing too triggering for anyone! I hope you enjoy!

“Mr. Giles?” “Just a moment!”  You heard the clipped British voice answer before being drowned out by the heavy thumping of falling books and the rustling sound of shifting papers hitting the floor. As you stepped further into the Sunnydale High library, you weren’t surprised to see the familiar faces of Buffy, Willow, Xander and Cordelia huddled around a small table.  The friends were practically inseparable and clearly close.  You found their kinship adorable and couldn’t help smiling at the group as you drew closer. “Hello to some of my best students!  And of course, to you Mr. Harris.  How is everyone today?”

Willow, stalwart student and overachiever, smiled broadly, “Pretty good.  I did ace my math quiz and got an A on my English paper… but, well, I only pulled a B on my Bio test and I just know that I could have done better.” Offering her friend a consoling pat to the shoulder, Buffy sighed, “It’s ok, Will.  You’ll get those cells next time!” “Tune in next week as Willow passes her AP Biology test with flying colors, on ‘As Sunnydale Turns’!” Before anyone could counter, Giles came around the corner carrying a sturdy stack of texts which he dropped onto the table as gently as the large load allowed, “As always, you four are the best assistants a librarian could ask for.” “Come on Giles!  You know I only hang out here for the beautiful ladies!” Pinching the bridge of his strong nose, Rupert Giles sighed, “I am well aware of where your interests lie, Xander.” “Please, he can hardly handle being with one beautiful girl.”  That was from Cordelia who pouted prettily, her hand mirror open as she fixed her hair. “My girlfriend, ladies and gentlemen!  Thanks for that, Cordy.” Snapping the case shut, staring down her beau, she smiled, “You’re welcome.” “Uh, Mr. Giles, if I may?”  You hated to interrupt but you had come in with a purpose and you meant to see it through. “Yes, of course, how can I help?” Shuffling your feet, a bit nervous now with the asking, you smiled shyly, “I asked at the local library but they were absolutely no help.  You see, I’m looking for a specific point of reference and I was led to believe that you could help me.” “Oh!  Is it something for our Inner Vision collage boards?  I love working on mine, only… It’s not my fault that I only see dark clouds and blood when I close my eyes.” “Well, Miss Summers, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.  And the best art challenges us to see that beauty.” “I hate to tell you what I see when I close my eyes.”  Xander retorted. “Ah, Mr. Harris, your collage certainly showcases your, ahem, cultured world view.” “Hey!  The Simpsons are fine art, ok?  Just because they don’t live in a museum doesn’t mean they aren’t culture.” Giles, unable to stand by any longer griped, “Xander, I am almost positive that cartoons do not count as culture.” You started to answer but Buffy cut you short, adding, “Don’t mind Giles.  If it doesn’t come out of some dirty, dusty old book it can’t be culture.” “It’s pop culture!  The entertainment of my generation!” It was your turn to cut in, turning to the tweed clad gentleman, “Actually, Mr. Giles, Xander has a point.  Cartoons and animation in general are all increasingly seen as valid forms of art.  No matter what your tomes might tell you.” Smirking a little, he appraised your answer before replying, “Be that as it may, Mr. Harris, the amount of television you consume is corrosive.” Raising his hands in defense, Xander’s head swiveled between the two of you as Willow chimed in, “Give it up, Xander.  You know you’ll never win and besides, I’m pretty sure that animation and art are different.  Wait.  They are, aren’t they?” “When I was in Rome last summer, the very attractive, very Italian tour guide told us that they’ve found painted graffiti on the Coliseum.  It only goes to prove that times change but people don’t.” “Cordy’s right!  About the art, not the dishy Italian.  And they didn’t paint it, they carved it.”  Bouncing her blonde hair decisively, Buffy made her declaration.   “Wouldn’t paint be easier?  I mean, who wants to carry a chisel in order to deface a wall?” “Oh!  Oh!  I know this!  The kind of paint needed to last for centuries hadn’t been invented yet!”  Willow, lifting out of her seat in the excitement of academic excellence, was giddy. “Yes, Willow, that is correct.  In fact, a lot of the graffiti is simple and very crude.  Mostly of the phallus, if memory serves.  I’m sure I can find a documented case in Agrippa if you’ll all just-” And you watched as everyone rolled their eyes as Giles trailed off, lost now in the hunt for a specific volume which could be sited, should further proof be needed. “Ew.  Pass.” “I’m with Buffy here, Giles.  Keep your Grecian graffiti out of my brain.” “I’ll stick with the Simpsons, thank you very much.” “Yes, well.  It’s not Grecian at all, is it?  It’s Roman-” Smiling broadly, Buffy hopped off the table, “Giles is right.  The Greeks were more into orgies!” “Buffy!”  Willow’s shocked response made you cover a laugh with a fake cough. “-Of course, cites are rare.  Very difficult to find documentation.”  Giles, typically, hadn’t given up the search. Cutting through the chatter, louder than it ever needed to be, the period bell sounded. "Ugh.  Gym class for me.  Why is this even a thing?" "I don't know Buffy, I thought you liked showing off in your little shorts and beating the boys at basketball." "Cordy, that's enough.  And while us boys do love looking at you, Buff... we don't love the beatings you regularly deliver." "Well, I have a free period Giles!  Do you want me to stay and -" Snapping shut the leather book he was gripping, Giles caught your eye and turned to the peppy student, "Uh, no Willow, I don't think so.  I believe I need to see what our Art Department is in need of at the moment." With a shrug, Willow began packing up her belongings as Xander slung his back back over his shoulder, "Will, you can come with me.  I'm going to find a nice little corner, under a tree, and sleep away my study hall." “But, I… I could help find the Agrippa?  Or… some other old Roman book?” Xander wrapped an arm around Willow and took Cordelia’s open hand, “But why do that when nothing calls?” "Another fine example of your scholastic aptitude, Mr. Harris", was your parting shot at the foursome as they walked out the door. "Well. Mr. Giles, now that we’re alone… Could I talk you into helping me out?" “Of course, of course.”  Pushing his glasses further up his nose, fixing his light eyes on yours, “What are we looking for?” Sighing deeply, knowing the chances were slim, “I was hoping we would find some examples of Pre-Columbian deity carvings.” Pausing, his look serious, Giles peered at you, “Interesting.  Anything in particular?” “Yes, actually.”  Again you flushed, more than a little flustered at what you were really looking for, “I’m researching fertility icons.” Raising his eyebrows, Giles started, more than a little outside of his comfort zone, but you had to give him credit.  He recovered from the shock rather quickly, “Oh… I… I see.  Well yes, I’m sure we can find… something.  If you’ll follow me, please.” “I’m right behind you.”  Biting into your bottom lip, you smiled to yourself.  Right behind Mr. Giles?  What a place to be.  Giles led the young art teacher through the deepest stacks of the library, pausing once or twice to confirm that she was keeping up with him.  He was ashamed to admit that he had lost travelers a time or two as he stalked through his overstuffed shelves, knowing instinctively where to find the book he needed most. For her, watching the tweed covered bottom of Mr. Giles was no hardship.  True, he was older and tad bit reserved in the best British way, yet she had the sneaking suspicion that underneath all the wool and starched cotton was the heart of a wild man poet. "Uh... just a bit further, I'm afraid.  Books like this, well, I keep them at a greater remove." "It makes sense.  Don't want the kiddos getting a hold of anything too tantalizing." "Of course not.  As you well know, they don't need much help in the libidinous response department." You chuckled softly, nodding as the air around you grew stuffier, "Too true!  You should see what some of them turn in and call art.  It would make a blind man blush." And at the mention of blushing, you were shocked to see a rosy hue grow on Mr. Giles' cheeks.  You liked it.  It reminded you of the high color in a Vermeer painting.  You couldn’t help the flutter in your belly at the thought, "Mr. Giles, have you ever seen a South American fertility statue?" "I can't say that I have... have... have you?"  Something about the idea of you examining an ancient artifact directly connected to sexual congress made his body stir.  "Hmm... Oh, yes.  I was able to study in Mexico for a semester.  Some of the art work is just incredible and the carvings, they're truly magnificent.  Carefully made.  Usually stone or..." swallowing hard, your throat suddenly dry, "hard wood." Breaking fast at the implication in your words, Giles froze in place which caused you to press directly against his broad, vest covered back.  You had a second to register the soft scent of his aftershave; something spicy and masculine, which made your mouth water.  Moaning quietly, you offered a weak apology, “Oh, I am so sorry, Mr. Giles.” Offering you his profile, the bookcases too cramped for him to turn around fully, you saw his sweet smile, “That’s… that’s quite alright.  In fact, we’re here.” Stepping out of the way, you pushed back against the opposite wall, the shelves digging into your spine in the confined space.  Giles bent over, giving you a great view of his backside, as he extracted a slim book from the bottommost ledge.  When he stood up, directly in front of you, the narrow, book covered alcove caused him to stumble. Giles’ chest collided with your own, forcing the air out of your lungs.  Instinctively, you lifted a leg, curling it over the swell of one trousered hip and lifting the hem of your knee length plaid kilt.  Nose to nose in a compromising position, you exhaled a shaky breath as Mr. Giles inhaled, “Close quarters around here.” Shifting under his deceptively hard figure, it was difficult to ignore all the places that were firm to the touch, especially when you could feel so much through the thin barrier of your cotton panties.  Bracing one arm on the obliging shelf biting into your shoulder, Giles pushed back a bit, lifting his weight off of you without making any other attempts to move away.  He was so close now.  Close enough to feel your fuzzy sweater and all the soft skin that trembled beneath it.  Close enough to see the pound of your pulse in your throat.  Close enough that when you licked over your bottom lip Giles could almost taste it too.  And why shouldn’t he?  “Giles?”  Your voice was whisper soft, fanning hotly over the face of your colleague. “Uh… yes?” “I’m stuck.” Blinking behind his thick lenses, it took the normally quick witted Brit a second to process your words, “You’re stuck?” Nodding slowly, your hair curling over your cheek, “My… My skirt.  It’s… uh, caught.  Caught on something behind me.” “Good heavens!  I’m so sorry, let me help you.”  Slowly, Giles lowered your bare leg to the floor, his hand lingering for a second longer than absolutely necessary.  He was still in your space.  Still incredibly close to you. You arched away from the bookcase in an attempt to free yourself with a groan that sounded heady in the stuffy stacks.  All you managed to do was force your sweater covered décolletage into Giles’ chest.  Stammering, a wave of sweat breaking over his brow, “Allow me?” The way your skirt was caught pulled the bright plaid lower on your waist than you would normally consider decent.  It meant that you had a fleshy strip of skin exposed along your tummy and Giles raised his eyebrows by means of asking permission to touch you.  “Yea, yes.  Please!” Tentatively, gently, you felt the strong fingers of Rupert Giles circle your waist and shivered at the unfamiliar familiarity of his touch.  Your chin rested on his shoulder as he worked and you couldn’t help sighing when he opened his hands and pulled you closer.  Under other circumstances you might have misunderstood the embrace but you were both professionals.  Not that you hadn’t considered the handsome book guardian a time or two before. “I… I think we’re almost there.  If you’ll just, maybe to the right?” “Um, sure.”  Following his directions you twisted in his arms, trying hard not to tear your outfit or rub against Giles.  All the close contact and talk of fertility gods had you feeling a little aroused and it wouldn’t do for your colleague to learn that fact. With a triumphant grunt, Giles set you free, only for gravity to kick back in.  The momentum created by your falling took the gentleman and the entire Grollier’s Gothic Almanac collection with you.  A cascade of papers, scrolls and dust rained down on you both. Coughing, aware that you were laying on something softer than the floor, you struggled into a sitting position, swatting away clouds of disintegrated pages, “Rupert?  Are you alright?” From beneath you a rumbling grumble that sounded like, “Yes quite… you?” was heard.  It was then that you realized exactly where you were.  Straddling your friendly neighborhood librarian, surrounded by debris, but safe, all the same. “Oh my!  I’m so-” “No, No.  Please, don’t apologize.  I’ve been meaning to reorganize this section and well, now it seems I’ve got no choice.” “You’ve got a bump.  Right here…”  Just over his right eye a small bruised egg, the color of lilacs, was starting to rise and you gingerly touched the swelling spot. “Then it will match the one on the back of my head perfectly.” “Poor Giles!  All of this injury in the name of research!” “No one ever tells you the dangers one might encounter in the library.” His dry British wit sent you both into giggles and suddenly nothing could be funnier than the moment you were in with Mr. Giles.  Looking up at you, his fingertip traced over your cheek, suddenly serious, “I’m not the only one with a war wound, it appears.” “Oh?”  Your hand covered his as you realized that you had a small cut, bleeding just a little, over the apple of your jaw.  Smoothing his thumb over your injury, Giles soothed you, saying, “Hush now, I think you’ll live.”  And you watched as Giles sucked the drop of scarlet from the pad there, his green eyes on yours, daring you.  Something about it was so… sinful.  So dark.  So alluring. Then his lips were on yours, suddenly and savagely.  Hands, firm and capable, slid under the fluff of your sweater along your spine as you tangled your own in his dark hair.  Giles, drawing you near, was satisfied only when you were splayed over him, writhing between the piles of text and stacks of piled paperbacks, as his tongue plundered your mouth. Trapped by his bent knees at your bottom, Giles helped center you over the firmness of his excitement, teasing you as you moaned, “Oh, oh Rupert!” “Call me Ripper.”  Before the word had left your throat, Giles was sloppily kissing over your neck, sucking lightly on the skin revealed by the v-neck of your top.  Sitting up quickly, you lifted the soft sweater over your head, tossing it away from you without concern.  Like one of the teenagers you might chastise, you then hugged your lover tight, gasping when you felt the nip of teeth over your bra.  “Giles… Uh, Ripper!  Please, go easy?”  With a hard grip on your upper thigh and one hand on the back of your neck, Giles held you still, smirking, “If you wanted easy you shouldn’t have come looking for fertility icons, my dear little art teacher.  And if this particular article of clothing-” He paused long enough to pinch at your hardening nipple before continuing, “-is dear to you, take it off.” Clenching your abdominals at his crass language, more turned on that you could remember, you reached behind you.  Unhooking the pretty scrap of lace and satin, you shyly covered yourself, biting into your bottom lip, “Fine… Ripper.  Should I be worried for my virtue?” “Absolutely.”  Without waiting for permission, Giles pulled your arms away, exposing your bare body to his blazing gaze, “You have nothing to hide, you know?  You are-” “Just shut up and kiss me, Ripper.”  And he did. Grinding your hips into his, it was impossible to ignore his hardening manhood, even through the fabric of his pressed trousers.  Giles cupped your bottom, under your skirt but over your panties, bouncing you in place as if he was already inside of you.  For your part, you tried to unbutton his pin striped shirt, but the force of his kisses was proving too distracting. “Oh, dear!  Poor thing been kissed senseless?”  He was teasing and cruel, but in the sexiest possible way. Red cheeked and huffing, you nodded, “Yes… let me touch you!” “Tsk… you didn’t say ‘please’.” “Please!  Please, Ripper!  Oh god, please let me!” Unseating you slightly, Giles leaned up on his elbows, cocking his head to one side as he took in the mess he had made of you, “Go ahead then.  Unzip my pants.” “What?” Removing his glasses, eyeing you darkly, “You heard me, I think.” Swallowing hard, your hands shaking with excitement, you reached for Giles’ belt.  Watching him, and only him, you slowly slide the leather from it’s buckle.  When you popped the button of his pants and let your hand drag over his hardened length, Rupert groaned and tossed his head back, “Yes.  Keep going.” Slowly, agonizingly so, you lowered the zipper as you were ordered to do, “What now, Ripper?” “Take me out.  I want you to feel what you do to me.” “I can do that.”  You played it cool, but the saucy words being said in that clipped British baritone did things to you.  They made your thighs tighten, your belly flutter and your breath catch.   Trailing a hand over Giles' barely exposed hip, you moved closer to the prize, your prize, as it pulsed with need.  Wrapping your hand around the meaty girth of Rupert's member, you couldn't help stroking the silky hot skin, so vital in your palm.  That it caused the man beneath you to moan your name only added fuel to the fire of your desire. Slick and sorely wanting, you licked your lips, ready to savor the flavor of your book stacking beau but he stopped you, saying, "Last chance to run back to the studio." "No way… Ripper."  And you felt a rough jerk as your panties were removed by force, the air cool on your overheated core.  Another kiss, full of needful things, distracted you as Giles parted your lower lips with his nimble fingers. Pumping into you, once, twice, just to ensure that you were ready, Rupert swiftly stretched your center.  With your small hand guiding his shaft, you lowered yourself onto the engorged tower of his power, crying out a ragged, "Oh God!" You thought you were capable of handling any man, but the delicious spread Giles' fine form forced you to endure was more than you expected.  Clutching at his bunched up sweater vest, your back arched tautly as Rupert dragged your hips down onto his unrelenting hardness over and over.   In your head, a rhythmic, tribal tattoo that made you think of ancient fires and curved statues took hold and you rose and fell against Giles on the beats vibrating through your brain.  He sensed it too, alternating his stroke, slowing down and speeding up in time with the thrumming pulse only the pair of you could hear.  "I want you to cum for me.  Do you understand?  Tell me you understand." "Yes!  Yes!  I'm so close, Ripper!  So close!" "Good.  That's very good."  Tingling now, your muscles tensed, ready for the release Rupert would provide.  You flung yourself onto his swollen sex without thought or reason, merely searching for the pleasure he had promised.  His thumb, so thick, so clever, pressed against your sensitive clit and your world imploded. Rupert felt it.  The moment your body and his melded together was forceful.  It tore his pleasure from his loins in grunting gasps as he experienced your ecstacy at his hands. Limp and listless, you draped your half nude body over his, dazed and drained.  Who knew screwing the librarian would feel this good?  In your post coital haze you started to laugh.  Giles, his hands roaming over the sweat soaked skin of your back, heard your chuckles and joined in.  It was another release, of sorts, and you found it almost as intimate as the act you had just committed. Folding your hands under your chin, flashing Rupert a wide smile, "Ripper, huh?" Sliding his glasses back into place and carding a hand through his hair, Giles grinned, "Oh, uh… yes.  Ripper.  My nickname in London." Toying with the collar of his shirt, "I'd love to hear about London sometime… Ripper." At the sound of that name in your voice, Rupert flexed inside of you, "Call me that again and you'll miss last period." Gasping against him, nodding weakly, "Hmm… promise?" That made him smile broadly as he handed you back your sweater, "We can't have a repeat of last week, can we?" "It wasn’t my fault you didn't hear the bell ring, Mr. Giles!" Sitting up, you fastened your bra and shrugged into your sweater before asking, "Did you have to destroy my undies?" "I'm afraid I did.  Although I told you to remove anything dear, didn't I?" "What am I gonna do for the next hour, Giles?" Pushing his glasses up, "I would advise you not to bend over." Swatting at him playfully, you used one of the sturdier shelves to stand, adjusting your skirt and fluffing your hair.  Looking around at the absolute mess created by falling books, embarrassed, you asked, "Can I help clean this up?" "No, I don't think that'll be necessary.  After all, Willow will be in-" "Along with Buffy and Xander and Cordelia.  Got it." Standing himself, Giles chuckled as he fastened his trousers and set himself to rights, "Precisely.  Now-" he bent over to retrieve a slim volume, "- The book you asked about.  Fertility iconography in Meso-American subcultures." "Thanks.  Ya know, I always enjoy coming to the library.  I'm surprised more people don't." Walking with you, his hand on your lower back, nuzzling into your neck, "I enjoy you cumming in the library." It was on the tip of your tongue to say something fresh when the overly loud bell clanged.  Lifting up on tiptoes you pressed a kiss to the goose egg over Giles' eye, saying, "I hope that makes it feel better!" Snagging you into a tight hug, Giles stared into your eyes before kissing you deeply, "That.  That makes it feel better." And then the library door swung wide on the four students who called the library a second home, "Um… are my eyes deceiving me or is Giles sporting a black eye?  I was only gone for an hour, big guy, what happened?" "If you must know, Xander, a shelf collapsed in the back.  We were fortunate enough not to be badly hurt but, there were some bumps and bruises." "A shelf!  Oh no… which one?!" Giles turned to Willow solemnly, "I'm afraid all the Grollier’s… and most of Crentist." "On it.  Come on Xander.  You can help me sort!" "Aw, gee.  That sounds like fun." As the pair trotted off, you turned to Giles, whispering low, "Dinner?  My place?  You can tell me about London, your childhood and why you love tweed." Eyeing Buffy, who was distracted and a distraught, Giles answered, "Tonight?  Um…" "He'd love to!  Say 9 o'clock?  And, he'll bring the wine."

Spinning on your heel, surprised that Buffy was your champion, you grinned, "Great!  Awesome!  I will see you then."

As you left you heard the bubbly blonde doling out instructions, "No Giles.  You can't wear that outfit to dinner!  You need to look nice.  Nicer than you do now.  Also, why is there so much dust in your hair?" If Giles answered you didn’t hear it over your big yawn.  You had a lot to do between now and 9 o’clock.  Rupert Giles was coming over for dinner and you could hardly wait.

------ Fin ------- I’m tagging my minxes, even though this is specifically NOT a Loki story.  I do want you guys to send me stories that might fall under the “Hot Characters” banner though!   Minxes:   @scrumptious-finicky-illusion​ @iamverity​ @mizfit2​ @sammy-jo1977​ @wolfsmom1​ @jessiejunebug​ @iluvsumbucky​ @unadulteratedwizardlove @procrastinatinglikeabitch @shxdowofdarkness​ @nonsensicalobsessions​ @ahintofkiwistrawberry​ @alexakeyloveloki​ @rorybutnotgilmore​ @crystalizedcaramel​ @lokislittlecorner​ @capcapcapsicle @jamielea81​ @caffiend-queen​​ @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore​​ @jenjen8675309​​ @that-one-person​​ @roguewraith​​ @toomanystoriessolittletime​ @vodka-and-some-sass​ @just-random-obsessions​ @brokenthelovely​ @lots-of-loki​ @thefallenbibliophilequote​

come back to me || marco peña x reader

a/n: now that we have an official announcement for kissing booth 3, i figured i’d finish this little fic that has been sitting in my drafts. i combined two requests because they were kind of similar and i had an idea that would work the both of them in. hope you guys like it!

request: @dystopianchic13 requested: “Going on a date and finding someone better after Elle!” and @mansaaay requested: “marco befriended a girl before the elle thirsting over marco incident, and the kissing booth, marco and the girl sorta start talking again?”

summary: when marco starts at your school, the two of you quickly become friends. but when elle gets involved, your relationship takes a turn for the worse...

word count: 4.4k

marco valentin peña.

newest school heartthrob, with good reason, and very quickly set to possibly be the most popular guy in school. and yet, here he was sitting and eating lunch with you and your friends.

it’s not that you weren’t well liked or anything, but you and your friend group were nowhere near the status of the omgs. and considering the way everyone talked about him from the moment he stepped into the building, you had assumed that would be the direction he would flock.

but alas, on his first day at this school, he ended up standing at your table, tray of food in hand. your friend nudged you until you looked up from your lunch and saw him standing there. up until this point you had only heard of marco. you hadn’t shared any classes with him earlier in the day but throughout all of them you could hear bits and pieces of conversation about how attractive this guy was. and now that he was standing in front of you, those comments didn’t do him enough justice.

he was wearing the same uniform everyone else was, but he had rolled his sleeves up so they just passed his elbows, drawing your attention almost immediately to his forearms. trailing your eyes up his body, your eyes followed along his broad shoulders and up the length of his neck, glancing at his strong jawline.

you made eye contact with him, your breath quite literally leaving your body. his brown eyes were kind and inviting, friendly even, as if you hadn’t just been shamelessly checking him out.

“um, hi.” you say.

he smiles at you, nods to the empty seat across from you. “hey, i was wondering if that seat was taken.”

oh god, his voice.

you try and ignore the pinch that quinn delivers to your thigh underneath the table and shake your head. “no. um, it’s all yours.”

he gives you a full smile now, his perfect teeth on full display and you can’t help but smile back. he takes a seat, setting his bag down beside him.

your friend grant sits at his right side and places a hand on his shoulder. “you’re marco, right?”

marco nods.

grant squints his eyes at him and shakes his head, looking across the table at you and quinn. “unbelievable.”

he turns back to marco. “do me a favor and stay away from my girlfriend.”

“grant!” the girlfriend in question, jen, exclaims and gives him a look before turning to marco. “excuse him, he’s an idiot.”

grant releases marco with a laugh and takes a bite of his sandwich. “i was kidding! mostly.” he mumbles the last word through a full mouth.

marco laughs, waving it off. “it’s okay. trust me, i’m not here to steal anyone’s girlfriend.”

you take a drink from your water bottle, laughing at your friends. “yeah, this may have not been the prime table for you to choose to sit at.”

marco shrugs, giving you a half smile. “i like it. you guys seem very...”

“loud?” quinn finishes as one of the boys down the table shrieks as someone else pours water down his shirt. “disruptive? unfiltered?” she aims that last word at grant, who’s too infatuated with his sandwich to notice.

marco laughs again and you smile. he seems very open, you note. willing to go with anything.

“i was gonna say entertaining.” he shrugs. “but those work too.”

you and your friends quickly introduce yourselves and the rest of the lunch period resumes like it always would have.

marco quickly slips into the natural system of you and your friends, not even a little bit fazed when the entire cafeteria turned to see the commotion that you had caused when someone flipped their entire lunch tray off the table. he simply laughed along with you guys, giving himself into the moment. too soon, lunch is over and you and your friends are cleaning up your table and throwing out the trash. faintly, you hear quinn arguing with the boys, telling them you were the ones to make the mess so of course you have to clean it up! as you came back to your table from returning your tray.

marco looks at you when you return and stands. “hey, could you tell me where mr. peterson’s room is? i would have asked one of them but...” the both of you turn your heads to where quinn is supervising the boys picking up after themselves and the girls sneak off as best as they can before quinn gets to them as well. “...they seem a bit busy.”

you laugh, picking up your backpack. “just another day with this bunch, trust me. but lucky for you, i also have ap physics next.”

the bell rings and you turn to quinn, but she hasn’t let up on the boys so you just let her be. being late on the first day isn’t that big of a deal anyway.

you lead marco to the physics room, all eyes on the two of you as soon as you step into the room. you almost forgot that you had spent the entirety of lunch with the school’s newest crush up until this very moment. you could feel the glares directed at you radiating throughout the room and watched as heads of those who hadn’t seen him yet perk up as he entered.

“is it just me, or is everyone looking at us?” marco had bent down and was whispering in your ear.

you decide not to inflate his ego anymore and shake your head. “it’s just you.”

you take a seat at one of the lab tables, marco sitting beside you. you zone out as the teacher speaks, it was the first day so it was mainly rules and the expectations for the year.

so you don’t pay much attention until one sentence catches your ear:

“the person you’re sitting with will be your lab partner for the rest of the year.”

you and marco turn to look at each other and he grins.

“hi, partner.” he says, quietly since mr. peterson is still speaking.

“you should know, i have been yelled at in every lab class i’ve ever taken because i always forget the directions.” you warn him.

“well this should be fun. so have i.” he winks and you both laugh quietly.

the period passes slowly as most do on the first day. the bell rings but everyone stays in their seats since lab was next anyway.

you go over lab rules and discuss the first lab you will be doing next time and you raise your brows as he hands out the instruction sheet.

“yikes, this looks like a lot of steps.” you say to marco and he shakes his head.

“mm, yeah. next lab class should be fun, don’t you think?” he gives you a knowing look.

you can’t help but laugh at the thought of you in a lab class together, but the laughter is also for the fact that you found marco.

never in your life had you met someone who was so ready to quickly adapt and go with the flow. you had had no doubt that your lunch table would be enough to scare him off but he had already decided he would be coming back tomorrow. and so, that became the beginning of your friendship and many screwed up labs. marco inserted himself nicely into your friend group and the two of you especially started becoming really close. that was, until one fateful day.

“...hot.” is the only thing you hear over the loudspeaker in the middle of your english class and everyone around you looks up in confusion. “he’s just a guy...woah!”

you quickly recognize the voice as elle evans and also realize that she probably doesn’t know she’s being broadcast to the entire school right now.

“the omgs were right, this guy is a snack!” you hear her say and everyone in your classroom laughs, the teacher’s eyebrows raised.

you wince on her behalf. you’re not friends, but still. that’s embarrassing for anyone. everyone gathers pretty quickly that’s she’s talking about marco and you internally roll your eyes. obviously you know marco’s hot, you have eyes. but to have another girl describe just how hot he is over the loudspeaker during class makes you bubble over with annoyance.

and besides, doesn’t she have a boyfriend?

eventually, her tirade stops and your teacher tries to calm the class down so you can get back to work. but even as you leave your class, everyone is still taking about it and elle has been given the new nickname get it girl.

“ah, there he is, our very own full course meal. or was he the dessert?” grant asks as marco sits at the table.

“no, grant. he’s a snack, remember?” quinn joins in.

“how about all of the above?” you say and the table erupts into laughter.

marco shakes his head. “alright, alright. enough jokes.”

you get a deadpanned look on your face. “oh, no. we’re dead serious marco. you’re just that hot.”

grant wraps an arm over his shoulders and starts making kissy faces at marco which he laughs at and shrugs off.

“seriously, though. where does elle get off saying that kind of shit? doesn’t she have a boyfriend?” jen asks.

“she does, indeed.” you point a fry in her direction before popping it into your mouth.

“huh,” marco says as he takes a sip of his water.

“what’s that’s supposed to mean?” you ask him.

“nothing.” he sets down his bottle. “i just didn’t know she had a boyfriend is all.”

you give him a wary look but decide to drop it for now, hoping that elle evans was behind you. and she was, until...

“you what?”

marco sighs, sinking his pool shot before standing up straight.

the two of you were at the arcade, making the most of your last day of the weekend. the arcade was mainly empty except for a mother and her two kids who turned to look at you when you shouted. you gave her an apologetic look before turning your attention back to marco.

“i felt bad. lee can’t do the competition and she really wants to enter. what was i supposed to say, no?” marco says in response.

apparently elle and lee were supposed to enter a dance dance mania competition together, but since lee sprained his ankle, elle needed a replacement partner.

you don’t say anything, simply watching as he misses his next shot.

he looks up at you when he realizes you aren’t going to respond. “why do you even care if i help her?”

you feel your face get warm but you ignore it as best as you could, setting up for your own shot. it was your first shot of the game considering you hadn’t realized he was apparently a pro at pool.

“i don’t! its just that we have a take home lab due in two weeks and i don’t want to be stuck doing it myself cause you’re off dancing with get it girl.”

you call her by her nickname solely to spite him. why did you care so much? who knows, but you enjoyed seeing marco roll his eyes at the mention of the name.

“you won’t. and hey, relax.” he says.

you shoot him a glare. “don’t tell me to relax when you’re abandoning me.”

he chuckles. “no, relax.” he nods to the pool cue in your hand which you have in a death grip.

“oh.” you didn’t realize you had been taking out your anger on the poor stick. you take a deep breath, relaxing your grip and line up your shot.

“here.” marco walks over to you, disappearing from your vision as he stands behind you.

you quietly take a sharp intake of breath as you feel his body behind yours, his hands coming around you to lightly rest on the cue, shifting it slightly.

“what are you doing?” you ask, quietly but make no move to exit his embrace.

“considering i’m three shots away from winning and you haven’t made a single one yet, i figured i could help you out a little.” he says and you can hear the smile in his voice.

“oh, shut up.” you mumble, but you don’t put any power behind your words.

marco adjusts your grip on the pool cue, lightly setting his hands over yours. his chest presses against your back and you can feel the heat radiating from his body to yours. your stomach clenches as his hand grazes yours ever so gently as he settles in. he leans forward a bit as he helps you line up your shot and you try your hardest to focus on the task at hand. but his lips are right by your ear so you feel his breath as he whispers:

“and shoot.”

you tap the ball with your pool cue, watching as your striped 10 ball rolls into the left corner pocket.

marco lifts his arms in victory and you found yourself saddened by the sudden loss of his body against yours.

“there it is!” he exclaims. “alright, next shot is all you.”

you groan playfully, trying to ignore the butterflies that have arisen in your stomach. you spend the rest of your day in the arcade before calling it quits and heading home to finish homework.

when you get home, you mull over what marco dancing with elle in the ddm competition means. you try to remind yourself that marco said things weren’t going to change now that he was helping out elle, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t going to turn out like he hoped.

and you were right.

ever since they started rehearsals, you have seen less and less of marco. he even eats lunch with her, leaving his spot across from you vacant. you saw him during ap physics but that was the only time you talked.

and as for your lab, guess who had spent the past two weeks working on it herself? everytime you called him to get him to work with you, it was always “sorry, elle and i have a practice” or “elle needs me right now.” it was as if your friendship meant nothing to him.

“alright guys, labs are due friday. i want them on my desk by the beginning of the lab period.” mr. peterson says at the end of lab on tuesday.

“oh shit, i totally forgot about that.” marco says, turning to you. “how’s—”

“it’s fine. i’m almost finished.” you cut him off, packing away your stuff without making eye contact.

“okay...” he says this with a twinge of confusion in his voice and you can feel the anger inside of you. “there’s nothing i can do?”

“i don’t know marco, why don’t you ask my dozens of phone calls and text messages i’ve sent you regarding the lab?” you lock eyes with him, angry now. “does i won’t let you do this lab alone ring a bell? or have you forgotten about that too?”

he sighs. “y/n, you know i’ve been busy. and i’m sorry. i really didn’t mean for you to do all of the work.”

your teacher clears his throat. “mr. peña, ms. y/l/n. don’t you have a class to get to?”

you look up with a smile. “yes, mr. peterson, sorry. have a good day.”

you leave the classroom without another look at marco.

and so the continuing weeks followed as such, marco spending all of his time with elle and the two of you only speaking when you had class together. there were times you tried to reach out, to be a peacemaker, but he always responded to your requests to hang out with sorry, i’m busy. next time?

to no one’s surprise, there was never a next time.

and as much as you were mad at marco for essentially ignoring your presence ever since he started dancing with elle, you couldn’t help but tune in to the competition since it was being streamed live.

“give me a second!” you call to your mom as you sit in front of your laptop and watch as elle and marco are called to the stage.

you sit through the performance, unable to help the proud feeling spreading through your body. you and marco may not have been as good of friends anymore, but you were still happy to see him thrive. even if it was a result of ignoring you for so long. your proud smile quickly drops from your face though, as you watch elle kiss marco. your eyebrows raise and you inhale a sharp intake of breath when she wraps and arm around him and pulls him closer.

you shut your laptop quickly, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. you press your hands against your eyes, refusing to let the tears fall. what would they be falling for? some guy that hadn’t shown interest in you and then abandoned you when you needed help? you were better than that.

so you left it alone. you didn’t know what was going on with elle and marco and it wasn’t any of your business. you had put it past you. you and marco were still friendly, but after the kiss with elle, he seemed even more distant than usual. and you couldn’t figure out why until the night of the fundraiser.

you were walking through the carnival, looking at different booths with jen when elle ran past us, accidentally bumping into you. she turned when she noticed it was you who she had run into and you notice her red rimmed eyes.

“oh my gosh, are you okay?” you may not have been her biggest fan, but you also weren’t a bitch. it was obvious she had been crying.

“i’m really sorry. just talk to him, okay? please.” was all she said before leaving the carnival.

“what was that about?” jen asks me.

“i’m not sure...” you say, looking after her retreating figure.

but it didn’t take long to figure out because as we walked further into the booths, we saw marco walking away from the kissing booth. with his head slightly bowed and his hands in his pockets, it was obvious he was upset about something.

you and liz exchanged a look and she raised her eyebrow at you, nodding over in his direction.

“well? go talk to him!” she shoved you forward a little bit.

you sighed, knowing that you should. you assumed that’s what elle had been talking about. so you approached him slowly, just as he reached the outside of the kissing booth crow.

“hey.”

he looked up when he heard your voice, an almost grateful look on his face, and gave you a small smile. “hey.”

“can we talk?” you asked him and he broke into a relieved smile.

“yeah, i’d like that.”

you followed him to the outskirts of the carnival where the two of you sat on a bench right outside the exit. you sat first, crossing your legs as you faced the opposite side of the bench and patted the space beside you.

marco chucked and sat down, turning to face you as well. he drummed his fingers on the back of the bench, and you noticed his knee was bouncing. he was nervous. because of this you thought you would have to guide him into conversation, but to your surprise he began with no hesitation.

“i know i owe you an apology. ditching you like that because of my stupid crush on elle was not cool, especially after promising i wouldn’t let you do all the work yourself.” you winced at that, hoping it wasn’t too visible. you had known that marco liked elle, obviously, but to hear him say it aloud still hurt. “i’m so sorry. and not only about the lab but about our friendship. you were the first people that was actually real to me when i came here and you were my best friend. i let elle get in the way of that and i feel terrible.”

he fidgeted a bit in his seat. “i know i haven’t acted like it but...i miss you. a lot. i miss our terrible labs and arcade days and having lunch with you. i miss all of it. and i know it’s my fault that none of that has been happening. i really just...want to be friends again.” he looked up at you with sad eyes and you could tell he meant it.

and as much as you appreciated his apology and his honesty, you couldn’t just let him off the hook. “you really hurt me, marco. i get it, okay? crushes can make you do crazy things, but i told you that she had a boyfriend. you knew that and you still decided that she was worth risking our friendship over. while you were off dancing with elle, i was losing my best friend.”

“i know. and i’m so sorry. you’re right, i should’ve backed off the minute you told me that. but i really thought...” his voice trailed off and he shook his head. “but it’s not. and that’s done okay? she’s made it pretty clear i’m not the one she wants. and i hate that it took this for us to finally talk again, but i really just want to get back to the way we were.”

you smiled. “i want that too. and of course i’m upset but i can’t say i wouldn’t have jumped at an opportunity to hang out with someone i liked as well.”

“so?” he looked hopeful.

you laughed and stood. “so...marco valentin peña, you are officially forgiven.”

he smiled and stood up as well, pulling you into a hug. wrapping your arms around his waist, you squeezed him tightly as he did the same to you. you stayed like that for a moment before heading back into the fair. and just like that, the two of you were good again.

over the next few weeks, you and marco started hanging out again, he returned to your lunch table, and of course the two of you screwed up more labs than you could count. and over those few weeks, marco was getting over elle and he couldn’t help but think about you. the way you said his name, how you grabbed onto him whenever you were excited about something, your kind heart, and he especially couldn’t stop thinking about when you hugged him.

due to his height, his whole body ended to engulf you hen the two of you hugged, but you loved it. and you were an affectionate hugger. he wished he was the only one who received your hugs became they always made him feel so comfortable and at home. and when you let go, there have been more than a few times when he would pull you back in saying just a little longer. and you would laugh and snuggle yourself further into his chest. and there was nothing better than that feeling.

he really liked you. and he couldn’t believe he had wasted all that time on someone already in a relationship when you were right in front of him. so one day when you were at his house studying for your upcoming physics test, he decided to short his shot. sitting beside you at the dining table, he put his notebook down and turned his attention to you.

“hey, so y/n.” he said, his voice shaking a bit.

“mm?” you said, not looking up from the flash cards you were making.

“i, uh–” he cleared his throat. “i had a question.”

“shoot.” you said, highlighting the important information in your notes that you would copy onto your flash cards.

“um, do you–i mean, would want to go out with me? like, on a date?”

you paused your highlighting and slowly turned to face him. “i thought your question was going to be about physics...”

marco let out a short laugh. “yeah, well.” he just shrugged. when you didn’t say anything else, he got nervous. “is that a no? did i just make this weird? i definitely did, didn’t i?”

now it was your turn to laugh. “no, no, it’s fine. um, i would like to go on a date with you, really.” his face lights up but then dims again at your next words. “i just–i just don’t want to be your rebound from elle.”

“i can promise you right now, that is far from what you are. elle is in the past, i promise. i really like you, and i’ve just been too much of an idiot to see it. but you are not a rebound, y/n.”

“really?” he nodded. “because i really like you, marco. like, a lot.” you laugh and so does he.

he reached across the table and took your hand in his. “well that’s good to know.”

you watched as your hands intertwined, his hand squeezing yours lightly and you smiled. you looked back up at him.

“so yes, i would love to go out with you.” you said with a grin.

“perfect.” he whispered, leaning in.

you smiled and turned your head at the last moment, so that his lips touched your cheek. you felt his lips curve into a smile against your skin and he kissed your cheek again.

“physics first.” you said when he pulled away. “we do still have a test you know.”

you slid your finished flash cards over to him and he bit his lip, shaking his head. he took them, glancing over at you again.

“since when are you all about the work?” he asked.

“since we’ve almost failed every single one of our labs and need a good grade on this test.” you said teasingly.

“touché.” marco said, tuning back to his work.

but as soon as that last definition was memorized, marco took you by the hand, leading you to the doorway from the kitchen to the living room where a mistletoe hung. the peñas had decorated the house for christmas together but you could guarantee that this one had been marco’s idea.

you could only smile as he cupped your face in his hands, leaning down to meet your lips. you stop on your tiptoes to meet him in the middle and when your lips touched you felt the butterflies burst in your stomach. this boy you’ve had a crush on liked you back and now you were kissing him under the mistletoe. the thought made you smile and marco noticed.

“what’s got you so smiley?” he murmurs against your lips.

“marco peña is kissing me.” you said in response and pressed another kiss to his lips. “what’s not to smile about?”

a/n: idk about y’all but the best friendships for me came out of science labs, they are so funny for some reason.

taglist: @devilishdior @write-from-the-heart @minnyvees @lover1307 @sonnyalice @caro1115 @psg-for-life @mansaaay @thebookwormlife

This week goes down as my most stressful of the semester and I have no one to blame but myself and society

the batkids as things I did in school

Dick:

take dance class and be friends with everyone even though there was some weird infighting going on between everyone. forget to do the assignment to make up a dance ourselves, just improv'd it and got a good grade, somehow. had the most fun slipping down the hallways in socks.

halfway through the year asked to have a free period instead of ASL 3, bc the teacher wasn't teaching us anything or even keeping it interesting so I spent the whole afternoon in Physics class instead.

went all out for 80s day during Spirit Week but turns out no one else did. got a lot of weird looks and concerned questions that day. one kid said I looked like a jumpscare. thanks dude.

missed more than half of my statistics classes but was still getting a better grade than the seniors I sat near. 😭

Barbara:

got really angry when the Pre-AP Bio teacher disnt know whether Carbon was 6 or 8 on the Periodic Table. 14yr old me thought that it was extremely important to know as a science teacher. failed the first 6wks, got moved to a regular bio class, was late everyday but the teacher still loved me. found and identified a tumor in the stomach of the pig we dissected in class. Can still sing the entire DNA song(to the tune of I Want it That Way) word for word over 10yrs later. Still gets stuck in my head sometimes.

kept getting told off in sewing class bc we weren't supposed to hold the pins in our mouth while sewing bc it's dangerous if we accidentally swallow them but that's what I was used to doing at home.

Jason:

stunned the much older kids in my class playing Hangman by looking up and immediately guessing "Labyrinth" from the few letters that everyone else had guessed (one of them looked up what the hardest word was for the game and that was it. it would have been if I wasn't so obsessed with Phantom of the Opera and the David Bowie Labyrinth movie at that point in time)

read all of the short stories in that years English textbook within the first month of school every year

Cass:

smile at people (esp teachers) so wide that id have to close my eyes, and then immediately dropping the smile. (it gave me a break from eye contact and trying to figure out what expression I "should" have in that moment)

Everytime I joyfully played in the rain during lunch and then froze my butt off during afternoon classes in the AC.

also the times I was late for afternoon class bc I was overjoyed at seeing snow.

Tim:

was too overwhelmed to actually do the required amount of weekly reading so I just picked classic books I had already read and picked a random place to put the bookmark and easily answered the teachers questions on what I was "reading"

be a "gifted" student so I was put in the fast track math class but was too anxious to deal with that teacher's incessant yelling at the students so I begged them to put me in a different class. they put me in a regular paced class and told me to just go ahead and do the fast track by myself at my own pace. got distracted and never did the work. switched schools the next year and got put in the next math up and totally regretted it but was in too deep to back out.

dropped out of public school in 11th grade to have a mental breakdown ✌️ eventually finished HS later through online classes and stuff.

Steph:

get hooked on Kpop bc the one friend I had made moved away and now I was stuck with her friends at lunch without much of anything in common so we had to make something.

fell asleep in class bc I was awake all night watching kdramas.

had to do a report on a European country and then got overly attached to the country of Moldova...

Duke:

only got detention twice in all of the years of school. once for being late all the time and once for not turning in my homework on time(the teach didn't want to give me detention but she threatened everyone with it and it was only fair)

Always skipped Pep Rallys and hung out in the Orchestra room instead. also ate lunch in one of the empty practice rooms behind the band hall with friends bc we could :)

got overly excited about black hole radiation and decided to ask my then science teacher about it and was SUPER disappointed when she didn't know anything about it (despite it being a fairly new concept at the time and she only taught middle school non-specific science)

Damian:

got put in theatre class to fill an empty spot on my schedule, enjoyed it IMMENSELY, got assigned "weirdo kid" role by the teacher for the end of year play. really went all out to play up the weirdo role. probably could have just been myself and it would've been enough.

managed to get into a Ceramics class without taking an applicable basic art credit first. the teacher thought it was weird but she didn't kick me out!

all three times I was asked out I turned them down brutally because I didn't really understand social convention. whoops. sorry dudes.

accidentally offended someone when I said that Art 1 was easy :/ (I think they thought I was saying art in general was easy, which. no. I was taking Art 1 as an online class and it was all the basic stuff about art I had learned from my older sis over the years)