#or at least had students who could listen to what i say for just five minutes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ickadori · 6 months

Note

OMG I love you mean reader au, I have a question!!

¿Does the reader ever makes Yuuji jealous on purpose? Maybe with someone they don't see as often because everyone close knows Yuujis girl backs and also bites , so I can see her doing it with maybe someone from Kyoto.

I feel Yuuji is the kind to let it pass or act oblivious cuz he knows I would piss her off but when they are on private he let's her know that playing stupid games lead you to win stupid prices.

Anyways as you can see I'm super super invested in you au, you are an amazing writer❤️

[cws] fem reader. i named the kyoto student ryo. sukuna takes over at the end. anal at the end. overstimulation. half a sprinkle of impact play -> like 2 spanks.

You’re always so dismissive to everyone, especially to those who aren’t in your inner circle. If you don’t interact with them on a daily basis, you couldn’t care less to hear what they have to say, and it’s not an unusual sight to see you rudely walk away mid conversation.

The same could be said for the Kyoto students.

You weren’t friendly with any of them, and had even ended up on bad terms with a few due to your nature. Yuji had been sure he was going to have to intervene in at least five times with the same person in order to keep the peace during their impromptu visit, but to his surprise, to everyone’s surprise, you had been on your best behavior.

You had greeted everyone, albeit with an annoyed ‘hey’ followed by a roll of your eyes, but that was leagues better than what you had done last year! When Todo had intruded on you and Yuji’s conversation, you hadn’t tried to smash Maki’s cursed tool against his head like you usually do, but had rather pursed your lips and excused yourself from the conversation, leaving him to listen to tales about Takada and other nonsensical things.

All in all, the day was going alright. You hadn’t gotten into a heated argument with anyone, nor had he sensed any spikes in cursed energy for the last hour or so that you had been out of his sight. Deciding that he’d just about enough of Todo droning on and on about the feeling of Takada’s hand in his own, Yuji begins to plot his escape.”

“It was a riveting—”

“You heard that?” Yuji cuts Todo off, eyebrows furrowed as he cups his hand to his ear. “I think that’s my girlfriend screaming in agonizing pain—gotta go.” He jogs away, ignoring the call of his name, and snickers to himself as he rounds the corner, one hand slipping into his pocket to retrieve his phone.

Just where are you, he thinks to himself as he scrolls to your contact, a smile breaking out onto his face at the sight of your contact picture. It showcased you giving him an annoyed look, face scrunched up cutely as you had your hand raised, a failed attempt to block your face from the camera. He shoots you a quick text asking where you are, followed by a barrage of heart emojis and kiss emojis, and he stops in front of the vending machine as he waits for your reply, deciding to buy himself and you a drink.

He’s halfway through his soda when you suddenly come rounding the corner, and he smiles as he pockets his phone, only for his smile to falter a bit when he notices that you’re smiling too, at someone that isn’t him—which isn’t a problem in and of itself! Yuji isn’t some crazy jealous guy, but it’s weird to see you look so… jolly. Who are you talking to?

A second person comes around the corner, and his face sours as he recognizes it as Kyoto’s newest 3rd year, Ryo. Yuji tries to be friendly with everyone, but he written the man off from the moment he saw him, not liking the way his eyes had raked you up and down while you had standing right beside Yuji—what was he, blind? It had been so obvious the two of you were together, what with the way Yuji had been trying to fuse your mouths together.

“Yuji,” you call, eyes crinkling as you grab ahold of Ryo’s wrist and pulls him over. Yuji takes another sip of his soda, cursing to himself when he feels Sukuna start to stir inside him. “You remember Ryo, right?”

It’s a tease—he knows it is. He had spent the better half of an hour that day complaining to you about him, while Sukuna had laughed and suggested he ‘pluck his fucking eyes out next time, brat, problem solved’, which he would never do, obviously, but the idea was a bit enticing…especially now, as Yuji is forced to watch the way Ryo takes in your ass when you stretch up to place a kiss on his cheek while you take your drink from his hand.

“He says he’s been thinking about transferring here, right?” You direct your attention to Ryo as you spin around, his eyes darting up to your face, and Yuji can’t keep his clear annoyance off his face.

“Right. I’m really liking the vibe here for some reason.” He grins, and Yuji nearly drags you away in response.

“Hm. Wonder why that is?” You giggle, fucking giggle, and an anger that’s part his own and part his curse’s begins to fester in his gut. Yuji sees the two of you stiffen, no doubt due to Sukuna’s sudden spike in energy, and he gathers the back of your shirt in his hand, the veins along the back of his hand protruding as he tugs you back into him. “Y… Yuji?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” His chin hovers over your shoulder as he stares Ryo down, and something must show in his eyes then, because Ryo is flinching back and stuttering over his words as he takes slow steps back. “Did you want Sukuna?”

“No.” You hastily reply, and the bottle in your hand crinkles as your grip on it tightens.

“‘S that because you think I’m gonna go easy on you?”

“…”

“Because I’m not.”

The unmistakable ‘plap plap’ of Yuji’s hips snapping into your own is loud in the confined space, and you lift a shaky hand, intending on using it to push at his stomach. It’s snatched and pushed down against your chest before you can even fully raise it, and your mouth opens on a silent cry when he slams his cock into you.

“Yu—!”

He grunts, the hand that had been holding him above you moving to cover your mouth, leaving him no choice but to crush you with his weight. “Don’t -shit- call my name.” He rasps, beads of sweat rolling down the slope of his nose just as he rolls his hips into your, pelvis grinding down against your clit with every movement.

You’re sensitive, sore, and every touch, every stroke, sends a pleasurable pain zapping through your body. You don’t know how many times you’ve come, or how long it’s been since Yuji practically dragged you into a supply closet and got you down on your back, with Sukuna goading him on the entire time.

‘You gonna finally put her in her place, brat?’

‘Y’know she’s gonna do it again unless you punish her.’

‘Look how she was smiling. She did it on purpose. You’re too soft on her - let me deal with it.’

‘What’re you doing, idiot? Get your mouth off her cunt. Is this a fucking reward or a punishment?’

‘Slap her around—shut up, girl. Do it. She likes it, see? Look at the mess she’s making on our cock.’

A particularly hard thrust has your eyes rolling and your toes curling in your loafers, and your mouth falls open when he brushes against that spot, eyebrows pulling together as a fresh bout of tears spring to your eyes.

“You crying now?” Sukuna snarks, and Yuji falters, his eyes popping open from where they had been squeezed shut to look at your face. “Don’t fucking stop, she’s fine, she’s—”

“Yuji.”

“Sweet girl,” he answers, hands moving to cup the sides of your face. “Don’t cry - are you sensitive?” You weakly nod, cunt fluttering as he runs his nose along your cheek. “Do you want me to be softer? Just tell…” Yuji goes slack against you, and your eyes widen, hands moving to push at his shoulders, only for them to tense under your grip as a low laugh leaves him.

“Sukuna,” it comes out in a pitiful whine, and you wince at the slow drag of his cock along your walls as he pulls out, thick shaft sliding up between your folds as he bumps the head against your clit.

“It’s been a while,” his head pulls back, allowing you to see the grin stretched across his face, and you drop your gaze as you keep your mouth, earning another laugh. “What? Don’t tell me you’re scared.” His touch is rough as he grips at your sides, nails biting into your skin, and you gasp when he’s suddenly flipping you over, one hand leaving your waist to smack at your ass. “Do it how I like it.”

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you shuffle so you’re up on your knees, butt lifted into the air while your chest is flush to the floor. Sukuna smacks you again, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass, and you can’t help the moan that slips out when he spreads you open, his hips jutting forward so he can rut his cock against your cunt, a jolt racing up your spine when he goes over your clit.

“Ah, poor pussy is sensitive, yeah?” His tone is mocking, but you nod nonetheless. “Hm.” He pops the tip into your hole, fucking it in just a bit before pulling it back out to continue what he was doing. “Guess we’ve gotta pick another hole then, don’t we?”

“Suku—ah!” His hand reaches underneath you to deliver a swift slap to your cunt, fingers catching your clit, and you let out a pitiful little whimper.

“Quiet.” He spreads you open further, and a shaky breath leaves you when a glob of split lands on your puckered hole, his thumb spreading the wetness around before slowly pushing it in. “Only the good little girls get to speak.”

His cockhead replaces his thumb, and your breath comes out in pants as he eases himself in, stretching you impossibly wide as he forces himself to fit.

“I hope you’re watching, brat — no worries if you aren’t, I don’t mind repeating the lesson later.”

#yuji x reader #sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #++ yuji/brat

2K notes · View notes

vanteguccir · 4 months

Text

starve and die | c. sturniolo

Chris Sturniolo x reader | Matt and Nick Sturniolo x reader (platonic)

Summary: When Nick and Matt test positive for covid and Chris has to go into lockdown to prevent catching the virus, who will look after them?

Warning: Covid-19, sickness.

Author's note: I've just watched the triplets new video and had this idea!!

PS.: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Y/N sighed as she turned off her car, preparing herself for the long days ahead, not that it was a burden for her to take care of her boyfriend and best friends, almost brothers.

Matt and Nick tested positive for Covid-19 two days ago, and the first thing Chris did upon receiving their test results was send a quick text to Y/N saying that they both had the virus and that he and his brothers would have to be in lockdown for at least five days.

He sent many texts asking her to not worry, as his brothers' symptoms weren't much more than the flu, and that he was fine and would stay in his room so he wouldn't run the risk of catching the virus too, but who said she listened?

Y/N knew that Chris wouldn't have the patience to make healthy food at least three times a day for him and his brothers, and she knew how afraid he was of getting sick too. Y/N didn't have that worry, being a medical student and a resident at LA's main private hospital, she knew very well how to deal with all of this and wouldn't spare any energy when taking care of her family.

The girl was grateful that her boss had empathy and gave her a few days off work.

With that, Y/N prepared herself the day before, going to the nearest pharmacy to buy some boxes of covid tests and a new box of disposable masks, since the one she had at home was running low, and then went to Target, buying several healthy snacks, fruits, vegetables and chicken to make several soups and light food dishes, not intending to make anything heavy or fatty with fear of making the boys' situation worse.

Today, before leaving the house, Y/N prepared a backpack with a few extra changes of clothes, without overfilling it due to having more than enough of it at the triplets' house. Furthermore, she took a purse and put everything she would need: masks, tests, food and some medicines that are allowed during covid to alleviate some symptoms.

Before getting out of the driver's seat, Y/N grabbed the mask she had ready next to her, putting it on her face and finally getting out of the car. Y/N closed the door and opened the back seat, grabbing her backpack and purse, quickly locking the car and walking to the front door. The girl searched the pocket of her Fresh Love sweatpants, soon finding the spare key to her boyfriend's house.

After unlocking the door, she opened it carefully, not wanting to make too much noise, already knowing that one of the boys had a headache, if not all of them.

The girl walked to the kitchen and placed her things on the counter, before going back to the door to close and lock it.

Before Y/N started her first task, she walked to Chris's room, seeing the door closed. She knocked twice lightly, opening it slowly and seeing Chris under the covers staring at the ceiling, in the dark, with only the light from his TV illuminating the space, the girl held back a laugh knowing that her boyfriend was probably losing his mind for staying locked in his room alone for days.

Chris quickly raised his head with the sound, taking a few seconds to realize that Y/N was there, his eyes widening in surprise.

"Babe, what are you doing here?" He asked, getting up quickly and walking towards her, asking with his eyes if he could get closer and the girl rolled her eyes, nodding.

"I came to take care of you three idiots." She mumbled against the mask, closing her eyes momentarily as she felt Chris's arms around her, never wanting to let go.

"I told you not to worry, I had everything under control." Chris murmured, pulling away to look her in the eyes.

"Of course, so much so that you were lying there staring at the ceiling like it was the most interesting thing in the world." She let out a laugh when she heard Chris snort. "I'm sure you must be starving, when was the last time you ate some real food?" Y/N questioned, seeing Chris shrug.

"You talk as if I didn't show up at the hospital almost everyday with lunch for you." Chris snapped like a child, crossing his arms.

"Lunch that Nick made." She argued, laughing loudly when Chris huffed, frowning. "I'm kidding, baby, I love it when you show up at the hospital with lunch for me." Y/N said, approaching and planting a kiss on Chris's shoulder behind the mask.

"By the way, weren't you on duty today?" Chris asked, furrowing his eyebrows as he took his phone out of his hoodie pocket and double-clicked the screen, checking the date.

"I did, but I asked my boss for a few days off so I could take care of you and she gave it to me." Y/N said smiling big, and Chris couldn't help but smile back as he saw his girlfriend's eyes shrink from her happy expression, without being able to see her smile directly.

"Well, since you're already here, I think I'm a little hungry." Chris joked, running his hand over his belly and giving her a mischievous smile.

"Alright little kid, I'm going to cook you something and you're going to stay here in your room and look pretty." The girl said, pushing Chris lightly, blowing a kiss and closing the door behind her.

Y/N walked to the kitchen again, not containing her goofy smile.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Y/N lifted the lid of the pan, taking the wooden spoon and quickly tasting the chicken soup (here in Brazil we call it canja, and it works miracles when you're sick, and it's delicious), letting out a sound of pleasure for the flavor. She turned off the heat, taking three plates from the cupboard and the spoon, distributing the soup on each of the plates, sprinkling some leek on top before taking three spoons and placing them inside the plates.

The girl took three glasses and added fresh orange juice, which she made minutes before, and took two pills of the only headache medicine allowed during the virus.

Y/N opened one of the cabinets and took three trays, placing them side by side on the counter and arranging on top of each one the plate of soup, the glass of juice and the medicine pill.

She quickly grabbed the first tray and walked carefully to Matt's bedroom door, bending down and placing the tray on the floor before knocking on the door three times.

"Matt?"

"Y/N? What are you doing here?" Y/N heard Matt's voice, feeling in his voice the pain the boy was feeling.

"I came to take care of you three, I made some soup and juice, they're in here." She replied, hearing the boy move around inside the room before walking away and returning to the kitchen, hearing the sound of the door opening and closing a few minutes later.

Y/N took the second tray and walked to Nick's room, hearing his voice behind the door, assuming he was on a call with someone or recording a video. The girl bent down and placed the tray on the floor again, knocking firmly on the door to make sure Nick heard.

"What are you doing outside your room, Chris?" Nick shouted from inside the room, making the girl laugh. "Y/N?!" He asked in surprise before quickly opening the door and Y/N applauded herself for wearing the mask. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be working?" Nick asked, holding the camera in one of his hands, looking at her with a raised eyebrow.

"I took a few days off to take care of you three. And I made real food!" Y/N repeated the same sentence for the thousandth time, pointing to the tray, smiling when she saw the taller's eyes light up.

The boy bent down, picking up the tray with one of his hands and straightening up, raising the camera again and smiling wide at the lens.

"Guys, Y/N brought food for us, the hungry ones. Everyone say "thank you Y/N"." Nick spoke into the lens, smiling widely at the girl before closing the door after seeing her turn to go back to the kitchen.

Finally, the girl took the last tray and walked to the last room, her boyfriend's, where she would stay for the rest of the days, knowing that the boy was free of the virus.

"Honey? Open here for me, please." Y/N asked from behind the door, entering the room after Chris quickly opened it with a smile on his face, staring at the soup on the tray.

The girl let out a laugh, placing the tray on the boy's computer desk and sitting on his bed, pointing at the food.

"Bon appétit, my love."

"What would I do without you?" Chris asked, approaching the computer desk and sitting in the chair.

"Starve and die." She replied, laughing loudly behind her mask as she saw Chris shove a spoonful of soup into his mouth as he nodded quickly, without actually hearing her.

#sturniolo x reader #x reader #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #love #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fic #imagine #chris x reader #doctor #youtuber

799 notes · View notes

jeongharine · 7 days

Text

syntax ERROR: the right formula

⚝ wonwoo x reader

⚝ comedy, smut

⚝ notes: you and wonwoo decide to take the thing between you on level two. but no one has to know about it. you would rather die than to have someone figure out about your sexual escapades with the local nerdy fuckboy. it is an ego thing. (part i)

(thanks to everyone who read and liked part one, i’ve never received such an amount of likes for something that i posted <3 i hope you will like this part as well, it is a bit longer but i had a little fun in writing some teasing ooof enjoy it, have a good early summer period and stay safe x)

“can you actually believe that, y/n? he ghosted me for i don’t know three weeks, and then he had the nerve to ask for a tit pic,” nabi sighs, taking a sip from her blue-ish drink.

“you know what? i’m so done with men. all of them. we really ar- are you even listening to me?”

you are caught off guard by the clicking of her fingers in front of your eyes. truth is, you are only half present, the other half of you is scanning the whole floor, trying to see if there’s a certain someone amongst the agglomeration of bodies.

“yeah, sure, sorry,” you apologize, leaning your side against the wall. “i was somewhere else for a second. you were saying that he ghosted you?”

“i’m never talking to him again. or any man.” “hm,” you hum, crossing your arms. you actaully don’t know who she is trying to convince at this point, because that must’ve been the fifth time you heard your friend giving you that speech (during that semester alone).

“really, i don’t know why those guys haven’t been thrown out of the campus yet. they’re a hazard, including your brother from what i’ve heard. sorry. but yeah, they’re a threat to public health,”

you shrug, because honestly you don’t care that much about their business. and that is important to keep it low.

“could be worse, though, i could be one of the poor girls getting fucked by one of them in their spare time,”

oh.

you giggle, a little nervous. “yeah, yeah,” you agree, looking back at the mass of students. “yeah, that’d be totally awful.”

“i couldn’t even count on my fingers the amount of girls that had one night stands with one of them, and somehow proceeded in becoming completely whipped and infatuated, only to be told that they don’t ‘fuck the same person twice’. like… what the fuck is that? who do they think they are? sorry that your brother is involved in this discourse, but he’s kind of a prick,”

you laugh, noticing the tinge of red that covers her cheeks. “you sound really drunk,”

“i’m not bullshitting you. they’re pricks and that’s on period,”

she raises her cup in a silent cheer, and took another sip. “i know you’re not involved in the fuckboy thing that plagues this campus and, honestly, you’re better off that way. but trust me when i say that they aren’t worth the headache,”

with an inattentive nod, you take another peek at the strangers filling the space near you. “i believe you, don’t worry. i know my thing or two,”

the worst part? you do.

and the even worse bit? there are two things wrong with what she has just told you.

number one: yes, they could be kind of jerks sometimes. but they aren’t completely soulless, at least some of them. they are fun to be around, actually, when picked alone and not in group, or when they are not trying to impress someone into sleeping with them.

number two: they fuck the same person twice, if feeling like it. at least wonwoo. and you know that because you’ve been fucking him on and off for the past five months or so.

when you first met him, you weren’t exactly after a “secret friends with benefits” relationship. you just needed a math tutor. but long story short, you didn’t expect to fall victim to his charms, melting under his tender kisses, moaning his name as he rolled his hips against you, edging your orgasm for longer than you can hold it. and you surely didn’t expect to like it as much as you do.

truth is: jeon wonwoo is everything, but he isn’t dumb. he knows that he is attractive and smart as hell - he knows that with his voice so silky and deep just saying the right words is enough to have you in bed with him, and he knows how to use the two things very well.

apart from also corrupting you in games hours.

also, you are human, alright? and there is something extremely tempting about sleeping with your brother best friend, especially when he keeps coming back to you. it’s only nature to want to feel special every once in a while.

again: it is an ego thing.

plus no one ever caught you. not nabi or any of your other friends. as far as you are aware, wonwoo’s group doesn’t know a thing either, which makes you appreciate him even more because you don’t know how hoshi could take this.

so yeah, he isn’t a total douchebag. he has the most basic sense of loyalty.

with a sigh, you push your body away from the wall, fumbling with your purse. you are praying that- oh there he fucking is.

the moment that you see wonwoo, sitting on the couch across from you, you forget how to breathe for a moment.

he looks better than you had anticipated: dressed in all black, with his thighs spread across the seat, ready to be fucked right then and there. his dark long hair is parted in the middle, with a few stubborn strands falling over his angelic features, as his gaze navigates around the room, staring at nothing in particular.

next to him, there is another one of his friends, seokmin, talking about something animatedly but wonwoo is paying no attention.

his expression is one of irritation, you notice, with his thick eyebrows furrowed, jaw clenching. but when his gaze falls on you, however, wonwoo’s perceived annoyance instantly dissipates.

you watch as his eyes meet your own, then he trails down your body with desire, stopping around the level of your thighs for a bit longer than you have predicted.

you know that stare awfully well: it is the same one that he gives you when he sees you around campus, or in the pc-bang when you’re winning or when you actually understand the concepts that he’s teaching you. the silent provocation that tells you, and only you, that he really wants to have some alone time right now.

a tricky smirk sprouts at the corner of his lips, and he leans back against the couch. you follow his movements as he reaches towards his pocket and extracts his phone, staring at you as he does so. he unlocks it, taking a final glance at your expectant features before he starts to type something.

[00:23] wonu: so glad to see that you came

[00:23] wonu: will you do me a favour and meet me in the bathroom upstairs? second door to the right ;)

and what can you do when he’s asking it like this? you take the stairs and you wonder, as you open your way through the crowd of sweaty bodies and spilling drinks, if you aren’t trying too hard to rationalize and catastrophize something that is actually very simple.

a story with a beginning, a middle part, and a satisfying ending: you two want to fuck each other, you do, then you move right forward. no hidden feelings, no strings attached. that’s it. couldn’t get any better than that.

but maybe, it isn’t everything about that, and you know it. it is also about overhearing the other girls talking as you make your way upstairs, complaining about how ridiculously hot and pretty he is. it is about having that steamy, trembling secret between the two of you. it is about knowing that yeah, wonwoo is crazy hot and smart and funny and you can have that whenever you want.

just like the calm before the storm, there is a moment of quietness and stillness between the instant of when you lock the door, and the one when you see him.

as you turn around, dwelling in his proximity, you think about a million things at the same time: about teasing him for his location choice, or maybe about how he must’ve been going through a drought, if he has to count on his covert booty call to get laid at a party.

before you can say anything, wonwoo’s lips are on yours, attacking your mouth in a fervorous kiss. you whimper in surprise as he pushes you against the closed bathroom door, his hands circling your waist as he squeezes your body against his. your purse falls on the ground with a muffled sound, but you barely even notice it.

it is something else, really. tonight, he’s kissing you as if he physically can’t contain himself long enough to do anything else - as if all that he can think of doing is to feel the heavenly contact of your mouth against his, while your fingers pull strands of his hair.

as he invites his tongue inside your mouth, wonwoo groanes and lowers his hands, squeezing your ass like he is about to lose every last ounce of sanity he has left in him. you sigh as he moves his focus onto your neck, placing open-mouthed kisses.

“someone’s excited,” you comment, slightly breathless. the only response you get is another groan, and the rolling of his hips against your inner thigh where you can feel his dick, already semi-hard, pressing.

“couldn’t even bother to take me somewhere else,”

“i just needed to have you now. have you seen how hot you are?” his voice comes out muffled against your skin, the reverberations of his timbre propagating directly towards your core.

“i see you’re starting to get more adventurous with this,” you bite down on your lower lip and he sucks your flesh, groping your ass once again. “parties and nights out used to be so off limits to you.”

wonwoo chuckles against your neck, moving back towards your mouth. he starts making out with you again, his breath hot and heavy against your face, and you start to think how you could very well pass out seen the level of craving building inside of you.

“i changed my mind.” he speaks as he leans back.

you smirk at his attitude. “we’ll end up getting caught,”

“aw, baby,” he pouts, looking at you with artificial pity. “are you afraid your brother is going to find out?”

okay, he can be kind of a prick sometimes.

“so i can leave, then?” you raise one eyebrow, fingers playing with the hair at the back of his neck.

“you can, the door is right behind you. you know i’m not one to insist,” wonwoo tells you, quickly losing interest in this part of the conversation. “but something tells me you won’t.”

you don’t even try to respond, because there is nothing to be said: both of you know what you are doing there, and the idea of walking out is just too ridiculous to consider.

with a suspire, you watch as wonwoo moves his lips down your chest, stopping at the fabric of your blouse.

“what if someone hears us?” you suddenly remember, heartbeat quickening at the thought.

“what is it?” he asks as his fingers work on your buttons, exposing more of your chest. the slow pace of his is going to kill you one of these days.

“you’re worried that people are going to find out about this? about us? when you’re always begging to be fucked in the room next to your brother’s one or when there’s someone at my dorm?”

you open your mouth to respond but his chuckle, so deep and melodious, catches you off guard.

“how scandalous, right? you are not the pure little thing you make yourself to be,” wonwoo continues, finally opening your blouse and fully exposing your bra to him. he hums with delight. “red lace? you really want to tease me,”

you swallow dry as he takes the blouse off your shoulders and gently places it beside the sink, above a towel. he can be so thoughtful and gentle.

“wonu, i-“ “you’re such a little brat sometimes, you know that?” he interrupts, eyes following his own movements as his hands circle your body, moving to unclasp your bra. and of course he gets it right on the first try.

“you came all the way up here just to get fucked, and now you’re worried that people are going to know about it,” you stare him down, a smirk already creeping up in the corner of your lips.

“how does that make me a brat?”

he smiles. “don’t try to to play the naive card on me,” another agile movement of his fingers and your bra joins your blouse besides the sink.

wonwoo sighs deeply at your exposed breasts, trying to imprint that sight into the back of his mind. “pretending as if you don’t know exactly what you’re doing. you can drop the act now, y/n,” “i don’t-“ his mouth attacking you is all that you needed to shut up and let him do what he wants really.

overwhelmed by the sensation, you let out a gasp as his hand squeezes you, playing with you as he moans against your skin.

“i love it so much,” he hums, moaning at the marvelous sensation of your warm skin against his tongue. you were almost forgetting how much wonwoo aches to play with your tits - not that you are complaining.

“and i love that it’s all for me,” he breathes out before placing kisses again.

you whimper at the contact, arching your back in a failed attempt to get closer to him. as much as you know he is most likely to just say whatever he thinks would turn you on, wonwoo’s words expand inside your chest, building a heat that seems to suffocate you. even if you know it is bullshit, maybe not all of it, you like to be called his. ego strokes and all of that.

“wonu…” there is only a thin wooden door separating you two from the outside world, and at the moment you can’t care less if they hear you calling out his name. the guy really does wonders to your anxiety.

but he also likes to tease you.

he moves away from your breasts and you almost, almost, cry out in frustration. but wonwoo starts to trace kisses back to your neck, then to your jawline. and you feel like you’re going crazy with all that back and forth.

“i’m not gonna lie, i understand where you’re coming from,” he says. “i like to keep this as a secret too. it’s so hot.”

you almost forget how to inhale when he aligns his face with yours, placing a peck on your swollen lips. “yeah?” you ask, sounding as if you are in a daydream.

“yeah,” he agrees, breathless.

even if wonwoo tries his best to look as if he’s under total control, you know that he can’t keep that front for too long. he is clearly turned on, and the hardness pressing against your thigh is all of the proof that you need. he

“it’s so great to know that i have one of the sexiest nerdy girls on campus just for myself…” his hand trails up your thighs, adventuring in the lands beneath your skirt. “and no one knows.”

you bite your lower lip, anticipating the contact of his hand against your core. “what’s so tempting about it?” you ask.

he smiles. “ah… many things,”

your stare doesn’t vacillate. “i’d like an example,”

instead of answering you straight away, wonwoo decides to take his sweet time. he leans his head to the side and kisses you feverishly, growing satisfied with the the small whimpers and breaths that echoes in between your mouths. his hands are all over you: on your ass, your waist, down your thighs and up your hips, where his eyes can not see. you only have your skirt and your panties on, and it is so frustrating to still feel him fully dressed against you.

at last, he pulls away, placing his forehead against yours. as he speaks, you feel the tingle of his hands as they move towards the hem of your panties.

“i like seeing you walk around campus, knowing that you’re sore from the night before,” he speaks slowly, his voice in a low vibration against your mouth. “and i know you don’t tell any of your friends about it. about how i fucked you so good that you almost cried,”

you hum, closing your eyes. “what else?”

much to your dismay, his hands leave your underwear again, coming out to pull you closer. “when you send me those audios late at night,” he’s breathing out hard then, drowning in those lewd memories. “crying out my name… ” he stops and takes a big breath. “how am i supposed to say no to that? so there i go, out the door, telling your brother that i’m going to the library to study, instead of saying that i’m going to see his crazy hot sister and that i’m going to fuck her…” he hesitates. “and i just get this… adrenaline rush because he and my other friends don’t know it’s you.”

“and how do you know that i like any of it?” you tease.

wonwoo snickers at your question. both of you know that it is plastered all over your face, but he can keep up with that little teasing if you want to.

“two reasons,” he says. “first: you do the same to me, or don’t you?”

“i don’t recall,” you respond, forging innocence. okay, maybe you do like to play the naive part.

“oh no? what a terrible memory you have, i see why you do badly in exams when you don’t study with me. now, let me remind you,” he places a strand of your hair behind your ear, his words hitting your skin in heated, libidinous waves. wonwoo is so close that you can count his eyelashes if you want to, his torso squeezed so tight against yours that you wonder how you even manage to breathe in this position.

“it was just last week, babe. you called me to your flat after your roommate had left,” one of his hands goes back to play with the hem of your underwear, fingertips feeling like sparks against your skin.

“you got so horny with just the thought of having me, isn’t that right?” much to your surprise, your voice comes out a lot more steady than you have expected. “don’t flatter yourself, you don’t know that.”

wonwoo laughs, placing his warm, swollen lips against the skin of your neck. “i don’t,” he agrees, digits pressing against your clothed area.

you know he feels how wet your panties have become, so there’s no reason to keep that up. regardless, you kind of like it.

“but i do remember how much you wanted me that night. how many times did i fuck you that night? and you just had to keep quiet, because your neighbours could have been catching something. that was so cute,”

you sigh, your insides in knots over the tension you are sustaining. you hate him sometimes. hate how good he is. “i wasn’t counting.”

“i know,” he swiftly pulls the fabric of your underwear to the side.

“and this right here, this is the second reason. look at this,” his digits move, teasing you and you have to suppress a moan. “you’re always ready. i love that. you’re so good to me.”

god, you are so close to lose it.

“so quiet all of a sudden,” his nose delicately trails up your neck, his mouth meeting the angle of your jaw in open kisses. in an attempt to ground yourself, your hands fly to his shoulders, nails digging through his t-shirt. you can still feel wonwoo’s fingers playing. you hate him. or not. you don’t know.

“i know i leave you speechless, sometimes, but i wan to hear you too,”

strong and steady, his other hand meets the curvature of your waist, pressing your body against his.

“nothing? y/n, you’re especially irresistible tonight,” his eyes are somewhat dazed, unfocused and hooded. he appears as if he’s two seconds away from fucking you raw against the wall, and you seriously wouldn’t mind at this point.

“you know why i called you here?” “because you want to fuck me,” you respond without missing a beat.

“i do, of course,” he places his forehead against yours, and you whimper.

“and the best part is that no one will even know it,” he continues. against your best judgement, your knees are getting weaker by the minute, the knot in your abdomen about to untie.

“just you and i. just the two of us will know how much you begged.”

“wonu,” you call out, hands tangling themselves in the roots of his silky hair. you whisper out his name again, your voice coming out in such a promiscuous tone.

god, wonwoo loves hearing the effect he has on you.

maybe jeon wonwoo does also have a golden dick.

above you, he smirks at the sensation of your mouth around his thumb, his other hand coming to place small caresses on your hair. after he removes his thumb from your mouth, you get back to your feet. it swiftly crosses your mind that your legs might give out eventually but, thankfully, they seem a bit more firm than what you have anticipated.

“better?” you ask.

“perfect.” wonwoo kisses you, sighing against your mouth. he pulls away gradually, his body still moving a bit slow.

“you always are.”

“aw, how nice of you,” you smile at his compliment, walking towards your pile of clothes. “always with the compliments.”

he hums in agreement, watching your naked body - your fingers holding that red bra he adores so much. “do we have any lesson programmed this week?”

an incredulous laugh ruptures your lips as you clasp your bra behind your back.

“we just had sex, and you’re already thinking about studying time?”

he shruggs. “i like to have a schedule,”

“i don’t actually remember, but we can game at mine wednesday,” your skirt moves up your legs, all the way up to your waistline. from the corner of your eyes, you can see wonwoo fumbling with his own jeans, which he now curses for being inside out.

“can you pass me some toilet paper?” you ask him, eager to clean the mess between your legs. there’s no way you are going to put your panties back on, even if the thought of going commando isn’t exactly the most welcoming either.

wonwoo is sitting on the toilet lid, putting his jeans back, and simply nods in agreement before doing so. “i’d like to know, though,” he insists.

you smile, taking a cheeky glance at him. “oh, so you are needy. since when you’re so needy?”

he groans. “i’m not needy, shut up.” the sound of his zipper closing echoes inside the cubicle.

“well, you can have this as a memory, if you’d like.”

you throw your red panties at him, watching as his face grows interested at the piece of cloth in his hands. wonwoo sighs, tugging his t-shirt back inside his pants.

“you’re killing me,” he complains. “good.” you smile, turning back at him. “how do i look? presentable?”

he examins you for an instant, taking in the details of your form. “it doesn’t look like you just got fucked, if that’s what you’re asking,”

“great!” you swirl around, “have a nice night, wonu. and don’t get too excited with the panties,”

wonwoo gets up and walks closer to you, your underwear safely guarded in his hands. you are positive he’s going to have fun with it later. “you’re going home already?” he asks.

“yeah, you did a good job at making me tired,” the clicking of the lock is a pleasant reminder that no one tried to open the door during your alone time.

wonwoo chuckles, leaning closer to you and he places a kiss on your forehead.

“good night, then. thanks for the panties,” you laugh. “you’re welcome.”

the building is glowing in the most diverse colours from the outside, and the sound of the music is like a distant pulse.

you watch, heart clenching inside of your chest, as wonwoo steps out of the front door with hoshi and seokmin - his head hanging low and a smile at the corner of his lips.

there is a volume in his front pocket, where you are sure he has tugged in your panties.

“i think that we should go home and sleep. but let’s keep this conversation on hold,” wonwoo cuts off the conversation. seokim, however, isn’t satisfied.

“you know that i’ll find out eventually,” he says, trying not to trip while walking.

“i always do. and hoshi knows it well.”

hoshi laughs, meeting wonwoo’s eyes. on the other side of the street, you and nabi take the opposite direction, having wonwoo to turn his head quickly at you.

“wonu-yah, i think you should give those lacy panties hanging off your pocket back to my sister tomorrow,”

“what-” “oh fuck!” a tomato red face wonwoo grabs them, while seokim trips and nearly cries out loud in the middle of the street.

#wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo x reader #seventeen x reader #wonwoo smut #seventeen fic #wonwoo fic #svt fic #wonwoo x y/n #seventeen smut #wonwoo scenarios #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines

401 notes · View notes

buckys-wintersoldier · 4 months

Text

Treated like a queen | Bucky Barnes

Pairing -> CollegeStudent!(Ex-)Boyfriend!Steve Rogers x CollegeStudent!(Ex-)Girlfriend!Reader ; College Student!BestFriend!Bucky Barnes x CollegeStudent!BestFriend!Female!Reader

Summary -> Steve cheated on you, and even when he tries to apologise, you can’t look at him the same way after knowing he just fucked someone else. Luckily your best friend is always there and knows how to treat his doll right.

Wordcount -> 3k.

Warnings -> (T) cheating, break down, crying, angst, but also a lot of fluff, college au

A/N -> The oneshot is dedicated to @imtryingbuck because you’re the most wonderful best friend I can wish for. You’re for me like Bucky is such the perfect best friend for reader. And I know you know that I appreciate you and all but I wanna let you know that you’re my bestest best friend. And I love you so much, thank you for the title hehe.😂❤️ Divider made by @firefly-graphics.

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

There he is, your boyfriend of five years. He stands in front of you, trying to explain himself, but there are no ways to do so. The two of you moved together a while ago; it’s just a room in the residential school, but being so close to each other was something you two really wanted, and there you are now. Steve and you are standing in the room, and he plays with his fingers in front of him.

“I’m sorry. It was a mistake,” he whispers, his eyes closed while he runs his fingers nervously through his hair.

“A mistake that happens how many times? Three or four times?” you ask and raise your eyebrow.

Steve opens his eyes; he wants to take a step closer, but you lift your hands and walk away from him. He looks down, swallowing hard, before he clears his throat and looks at you.

“We- We had sex seven times,” he mumbles quietly.

You gasp when those words leave his lips. You thought he cheated once, but knowing that he did it seven times needs a moment for you to realize that it really wasn’t a mistake he made. You turn your head away from him; you want to scream, but you feel like you can’t. It would stick in your throat, and you wouldn’t be able to let go of your feelings, and you don’t want to, not in front of him. Then there is the feeling of just turning around and running away, or at least to cry, but everything feels so surreal, and at the same time, you feel reality hitting you. Your boyfriend cheated on you, and it wasn’t a mistake; it was his own decision to have sex with someone. And there is no excuse why he could have cheated on you.

“What did I do wrong that you cheated?”

“N-Nothing. Baby, listen-“

You interrupt him before he can say another word, and you lift your hand, showing him to stop talking. And he does; he always takes care that he doesn’t overstep your boundaries.

You don’t want him to call you baby, babe, or whatever pet name he gave you. How often did he call her babe or baby? Every time they were together and kissed, or only when they fucked? Maybe he never called her that, but he does. Steve is someone who praises his partner a lot and calls them by their nicknames or the pet names he gives them. Was he just there to fuck him, or does he love her?

“Steve, please stop calling me that. I’m not yours anymore.”

Your voice is so cold that you shiver slightly at your own harshness. You’re more the soft one, the emotional person. Steve is still looking at you; he wants to touch you, pull you close to him, and tell you that he loves you, but he knows you’re done with him. He messed up because he didn’t get his dick under control.

“Y/N- listen. I��m sorry. I’m- It’s not your fault. I- We-,” he sighs. A single tear makes its way down his cheek; his eyes are red, and the next tears are just a moment before they roll down his cheeks as well. “We- It was during the party, and then we used it to get rid of every frustration or too much stress because of the exam.”

Steve sighs when you laugh darkly. Then you shake your head and face him. Your expression is cold in a way you never thought you would look at him. There is no love, but also no anger; your expression doesn’t show any kind of emotion. You as well as Steve didn’t know that you would ever be that cold to the love of your life, the boy with whom you have been together for five years, and he threw it away by cheating on you.

“Would you have done it one time, maybe I would have accepted it one day. Maybe we could have fixed our relationship, but- Steve. I can’t look at you the same way I did. Your eyes were the things I always thought to see the truth in; your embrace was my home, but how can I ever see in those eyes of yours when all those promises were just lies? When all those words had no meaning?” you ask.

“They were no lies, and I meant what I said. I love you, y/n,” he mumbles.

Those words, they were meant all for you. ‘I love you'; they made you his; they made you feel special around him, and now he says it. And you’re standing there, trying not to give in, and just kissing him or hugging him to feel his warm body pressing against yours.

“You love me, and you will talk to me. Those were things you said, but you didn’t talk to me when you were frustrated or stressed. You cheated on me when you loved me; why did you cheat on me? I’m your number one. You would never cheat on me, but you did. I felt special around you, but not anymore; you did the things we did with her,” you tell him with a sad smile. You sigh softly. "Steve, those things- I’m sorry, but I will leave now. I hope you will be happier with her. I hope she is worth it that you destroyed what we had. But I’m not going to be with someone who doesn’t want me and has cheated on me.”

You turn around to leave the room, your shared room, and your home. But since you can’t look at him without knowing he cheated on you, it doesn’t feel like home anymore. And Steve stays quiet when you open the door. When you step out of the room and close the door behind you, you’re not leaving your room behind you; you also leave the boy you love behind you, and even when it breaks you, you know that he doesn’t want you; otherwise, he wouldn’t have cheated on you. You look for your phone to call Bucky. He is your best friend and is always there when you need him. So it doesn’t take long for him to pick it up.

“Hey, babydoll. Thought you’re with Steve,” he says. You can hear his happiness when you call him.

“I was. But- I. Bucky, can I come to you?” you ask.

Your voice is shaking, and the gasp that leaves Bucky’s lips tells you that his mood immediately changes when he hears your broken voice.

“Of course. Do you need anything? Chocolate or your favorite food? Some drinks?”

“Just you and a hug.”

“Of course, do you want me to pick you up?” Bucky sounds worried, but his voice is so soft that you calm down when you just talk to him.

“No, I’m almost there,” you mumble and hang up.

You suddenly feel so weak; everything you had with Steve isn’t there anymore. Tears form in your eyes, and you think about everything you had with Steve, the love you shared, the memories, and now there is nothing left of that love, only the memories, which are currently just him cheating on you.

After a moment, you reach Bucky’s room, knocking at his door, and he immediately opens it. The usual smile that appears across his face whenever he sees you isn’t as big as usual. His steel blue eyes aren’t as bright as you’re used to seeing them; he looks worried when he sees your red eyes and the tears streaming down your cheeks. Bucky wants to say something but stops himself when you just open your arms and wait for him to pull you close against him. And he does; he walks a step closer and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you as close as possible. Your head is resting against his chest while he places his head on top of yours.

“I’ve got you, my pretty girl,” he mumbles, pulling you with him into his room before he closes the door with his feet.

When the door is shut, you break down in Bucky’s arms. Every feeling you tried to push away or didn’t want to cheat in front of Steve appears, and you're crying even more. Bucky holds you close, his hands moving up and down your back. You sob loudly, the tears streaming down your cheeks, and you feel like you can't breathe anymore. Your vision is blurry because of your tears, and you grip Bucky’s shirt to hold yourself. You’re a weck, which is just standing because of the tight grip of Bucky’s arms around your body. Everything you had with the love of your life, everything he promised, everything he said, it’s almost visible to you, and you can’t bring yourself to calm down. Your feelings are overwhelming, and you just want to be loved by someone who means what he said, someone who holds you like Bucky does right now.

“Bucky- he- Steve he cheated on me. Am I not enough for him? Why did he cheat on me?” you ask, still crying and pressing yourself more against Bucky.

“It’s not your fault, doll. He just doesn’t know what he lost when he let you go. You deserve someone who takes care of you and treats you the way you deserve to be treated, like a queen. Someone who knows that you’re worth so much more,” Bucky says, kissing your forehead, and he thinks about him when he says that he knows how to treat you right.

The two of you stand there for a while until your sobbing is quieter and you slowly calm down in Bucky’s embrace. He lifts you up, and you wrap your legs around his waist, letting him carry you to the couch, where he has already placed your favorite food and drinks. You sometimes wonder why he always has everything you like there, but he also loves that kind of food, and he always has everything there for his doll. When you see the food, you smile, and Bucky places you between them on the couch.

“That’s what I want to see, that wonderful smile, doll,” he smirks.

You blush, and Bucky captures your cheeks to make you look at him. He wipes the tears with his thumbs away, then he leans closer to kiss your nose.

“I love you so much, my pretty doll,” he mumbles before he lets go of you and lets himself fall down next to you on the couch.

“Bucky!!!! I love you too, but don’t sit on the food!” you say, raising your eyebrow.

Bucky laughs, wraps his arm around your waist, and pulls you against him. You place your head on his chest, then you look for some food you want to eat first. Meanwhile, Bucky looks for something next to him, giving it to you, and your smile grows when you see his hoodie. You take it on and giggle. He loves seeing you happy and that smile when your eyes brighten or when you giggle. Bucky, luckily, knows exactly how to make you happy and feel comfortable.

It’s been a few weeks since you broke up with Steve, and it wasn’t easy for you to move on without him being around you every day. And especially when you had classes with him, it was even harder. But you get used to it, and Bucky makes sure he is always by your side to comfort you, and he just loves to spend his time with you.

“Bucky, you can meet your friends if you want to. I-I’m fine,” you say, sitting on his couch and looking at him.

“I prefer to spend time with my precious doll.”

You blush and hide yourself behind a pillow. The two of you are closer than ever, and since you’re living with Bucky in his room, you’re really happy after the situation where Steve cheated on you. Even when you sometimes miss him, Bucky makes sure you laugh just a moment later because he does something funny or just tells you a joke, even when it is not funny. But you laugh because he tells you bad jokes and acts like it was the most hilarious thing.

Bucky gets on his knees in front of you, his arms resting on your thighs, and he smiles. His blue eyes are shining in a way you haven’t seen them before. You could look into them all the time; the light blue, which matches the slight gray, looks like the most beautiful ocean. And whenever he looks at you and you get lost in the beauty of his eyes, you can’t get yourself to look away. They are mysterious and beautiful, and it's kind of scary when you realize that you forget everything around you when you just look at them.

“Doll, you’re staring,” he says, squeezing your thighs a bit.

“Sorry- I just- Have you ever seen in your eyes?” you blush when you ask him that question.

Of course, he sees his eyes every time he looks into the mirror, but he probably doesn’t get lost in them like you do.

“Do you want to move in here completely?”

The way his voice sounds makes it clear he really means what he asks. And you thought about moving into his room already, and you talked about it, but now it’s on you to decide if you’re ready to say yes or if you want to have most of your things still in your old room, the one where Steve is still living.

When you went to Bucky the day you broke up with Steve, Bucky told Steve to put a few things into a bag and place them in front of the door so he could pick them up later. And Steve did as he was told; he put things that really meant something to you and some clothes into a bag and placed them in front of the door. And Bucky picked it up later that day and made sure he didn't have to see Steve; otherwise, he would have punched him in the face for being such a dick.

“Do you really don’t mind? I mean, I should talk to Steve first.”

You capture Bucky’s cheeks with your hands. He sticks his tongue out and inches close to try to lick your nose, but you push him softly away so he can’t lick at you.

“Buckyyyyy,” you giggle.

“What’s up, doll?”

You roll your eyes; he can act like he didn’t try to lick your nose and just pretends you’re asking for him to answer, so you’re going to tell him something then. Bucky chuckles before he clears his throat to speak in a deeper voice.

“I don’t mind you moving in with me. I’m a robot,” he says, and you burst out laughing.

“Oke I’m gonna make myself ready, and then I will go to Steve and talk to him.”

Bucky nods, letting himself fall to sit in front of you so you can stand up and go to make yourself ready. He looks at you and sees the way his hoodie fits perfectly as a dress for you, but you just prefer his clothes. Before you walk into the bathroom, you turn around and wink at him. He laughs, and while he listens to the shower and the way you dry yourself before you make your hair, his mind goes crazy with thoughts about you and Steve.

What if you want to go back to him? Maybe you prefer Steve, and even when you broke up with him, maybe your love is stronger and you will leave him alone. His mood changes from the happy little puppy into the introverted, sad boy he is whenever you’re not around him.

“Bu- Hey, Bucky. You’re oke?” you ask worriedly when you walk back to the couch where he is sitting.

Bucky's eyes are slightly red, and he sniffles, but he nods his head. Of course, he is fine, right? You’re not his, and when you decide to be back with Steve, who is going to make you happy. You need to be happy, and maybe you’re happier with Steve, even when Bucky hopes you will choose him.

“I will be back in a few minutes,” you tell him, running your fingers through his soft brown hair.

“But maybe you want to stay with Steve,” he mumbles quietly.

You don’t say anything; you just kneel down in front of him and capture his cheeks. You turn his head, so he has to look at you before you lean closer and kiss him softly. Bucky places his hand around your waist and pulls you closer while he moves his lips against yours. When you two pull away and catch your breath, he still looks into your eyes, his cheeks slightly red, and the smile on his lips reaches from one side of his face to the other.

“Call me when you need help with Steve.”

You grab your phone and tap on it before Bucky’s phone rings, and he picks it up, chuckling softly.

“Yes, doll?”

“You said 'call me' when you need help with Steve. And I call you. I would love it when you would come there with me so I don’t have to talk to him about things I don’t want to talk about,” you say and smile when he hangs up and leans closer to kiss you again.

“Of course, my pretty doll,” he says, and he stands up before he picks you up and twirls you around. “Before you need to throw up on me, tell me, please,” he says, and you both need to laugh.

And there he is, your best friend. But he is way more than that. Bucky is your soulmate; he knows things about you that no one knows about you. And when you thought Steve was the love of your life, it was just because you weren't with Bucky together. With your best friend, you feel like you’re complete, you’re loved, and he treats you like a queen, like his queen. And Bucky can finally show you that you deserve so many good things and that he loves you like you’re everything to him.

Taglist: @nicoline1998enilocin @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @sergeantbarnessdoll @lives-in-midgard @rogersbarber @kandis-mom @km-ffluv @bucky-barnes-lover @felicitylemon @identity2212 @cjand10 @harleycao @lunaalovesyouu @casa-boiardi @futurequeen2018-blog @blackhawkfanatic @flstrawberry

501 notes · View notes

cowgurrrl · 6 months

Text

Something in the Orange

Pairing: Joel Miller x art teacher!reader

Author's note: this might become a mini series idk idk

Summary: A parent-teacher conference leads to trouble [4.0k]

Warnings: no outbreak! au, teacher things, Ellie being a little loner, Joel the Menace making a return, Joel gets both his daughters in this one because it's what he deserves, flirty flirt, i think that's it???

You feel like you've been running a million miles a minute since you got in this morning. The second you could unlock the door, at least three students spilled into your room and chaotically ran to the kiln to collect their most recent pottery projects. One of them ended up shattering (the exact one you warned Colin about, but he didn't listen), and, as per high school custom, they were all screaming about it. You consoled the students just in time for your principal to walk by and ask about lesson plans which made you scramble through your backpack for your notebook even though you knew damn well there wasn't a single lesson plan in there. "Do you always have those lights on?" Principal Martinez asked, gesturing to the room's fairy lights and orange lamps. Leave it to administration to want to avoid art classrooms so much that they don't even know about the Big Light Philosophy.

Since then, it's been class after class. You only have one more period before your planning period and then, finally, the end of the day. There are a hundred things to do, but you can't focus on any of them. You got so caught up in managing your classroom and helping students with the hardest parts of their portfolio work that you almost forgot you had a parent meeting scheduled during your planning period.

Calling in parents for meetings about their children may be your least favorite part of your job. It makes you feel like a bad teacher, and parents usually don't feel great about getting called in on a workday to talk about their kid. Luckily, Ellie's dad, Joel, seemed more than happy to take time to talk about her. You rack your mind for his occupation as you add some detail to a canvas you've been hiding in your office and working on when you can. Was he a blue-collar worker? Or was he another stuck-up Austin transplant parent who's gonna accuse you of lying? He'd make the fifth parent who's made you cry this semester.

A knock on your locked door pulls you from your thoughts, and you quickly put away your painting before answering the door. "I told you she was in here!" One of your students, Dina, announces as she and a posse of three other kids you don't recognize push their way into the room. "Miss, you've gotta take that thing off your door; otherwise, people are gonna think you went home!"

"You mean the sign that says, 'planning period. Do not enter?'" You ask, and she snaps her fingers.

"That's the one." She says as she and her friends start putting their backpacks down at one of your high tables. You sigh and kick the door stopper into the threshold.

"You guys can't stay here. I have a meeting in five minutes."

"With who?"

"None of your business."

"Miss!" Dina acts wounded, and you cross your arms over your chest, your keys jingling around your neck in the process.

"I am an adult with a college degree and the debt to show for it. You are a teenager with a still-developing brain. You have to listen to me," you say. "Wait, whose class are you supposed to be in right now?"

"Mr. Flynn's."

"Guys!" You groan before walking over to your desk and quickly writing up a hall pass for them. "I know you don't like math-"

"No, we don't like Mr. Flynn." Dina cuts you off.

"Or math!" One of her friends adds, and you shoot them a (loving) disapproving look.

"Whatever you don't like, you can't keep hiding out here. Mr. Flynn is two seconds away from trying to get me fired for how often I let his kids in here during class, and I actually like this job, so," you rip the hall pass off the pad and hand it to Dina. As they pack their stuff up, a tall, bearded man steps into your classroom and makes eye contact with you. "Out, out, out! I love you. You're gonna change the world one day, but please get out." You blow them kisses as you usher them out of the room.

"Are you Ellie's art teacher?" He asks, a confused look on his face, and you nod.

"Yes, I am. Sorry about that. They're still figuring out that I have work to get done even when I don't have a class," you explain, a little breathless from running all over the place and getting caught off-guard. You really do try to act a little more professional with parents, but the kids threw you off. The kettle whistling behind your desk doesn't make it any better. "Is there anything I can get you? Coffee? Tea?" You pick up a random mug off your desk but find it full of murky water. "Paint water?"

"Are you allowed to have an electric kettle in here?" He asks, and you laugh nervously as you find a clean mug and your tea box.

"I won't tell if you won't." You say. He stands there awkwardly as you pour yourself some tea, and you realize you didn't pull a chair up for him. "Um, we can sit..." you glance around your messy classroom until you find a clear table and gesture toward it. "Here." He follows your lead, and you take a deep breath as you sit down.

"You gonna be okay?" He asks, the hint of a smirk on his lips. His curly hair looks golden brown in the low light, and his round eyes have a little knowing twinkle. You take another breath to compose yourself and nod.

"Yes. Sorry. It's been a long day."

"Don't worry bout it. I'm sure they run you ragged."

"Is it that obvious?"

"Well, you do have paint in your hair." He says, and panic seizes in your chest. You're never more aware of how crazy your job can be until you meet Real Adults. Even if you can't remember what he does for a living, you still have to admit that you look a little silly next to each other: you, with your paint-stained sunflower dress and markered hands, and him, with his black shirt and jeans. He doesn't have any apparent stains or splatters on his clothes, but he's broad with thick biceps. He must work with his hands or something within that capacity. You clear your throat and try to get back on track with the meeting.

"Uh, so Mr. Miller, the reason I called you here today was to talk to you about Ellie," you start. "First, I just wanna say that she is an amazing student. She always does her work and engages thoughtfully with the material. I really do enjoy having her in class."

"Well, that's certainly good to hear. She talks a whole lot bout this class and you, so... it's nice to place a face to the name," he says, adjusting his position on the stool. "But I have a feelin' you didn't call me down here just to tell me how great my kid is."

"She is great. She's extremely talented, smart, and funny, but she spends more time in my classroom during lunch than anything else. I'm worried about her making friends and finding a community here at school. I've tried convincing her to join the art club, but she's hesitant. During class, she just sits with her headphones in and draws. She really doesn't like talking to anybody but me." You wait for blame to be assigned to you or get lectured, but it never comes. He just sighs, and he deflates a little in his chair.

"She's been through a lot this year. Well, her whole life, really, but 'specially recently," he says dejectedly. "What can I do for her?"

"There's an art show this Friday night here at the school. It'll all be student work from across the district. I thought if maybe you or... whatever adults she has at home came with her to this, she might feel more comfortable talking to her peers or even want to submit some of her own stuff."

"We can do that. I'll get off work early and ask her uncle if he wants to come," he's quick with his solution, and you're a little shocked. You rarely get parents, let alone fathers, who act this swiftly when something is going on with their kids. "Is there anythin' else goin' on that I should know bout?"

"Uh, no. Like I said, she's a great kid. You should be really proud." You say, and the concerned wrinkle between his eyebrows disappears with a proud smile.

"Thank you," he mumbles, suddenly shy. "And thanks for carin' so much bout her. It's nice to know she's got someone lookin' out for her here." You don't know what to say, so you just nod and stare at him. You know, like an idiot. It takes a chuckle from him to snap you out of your thoughts, and blood rushes to your cheeks.

"Yes, of course. She's a good kid." You say.

"You said that already."

"I bet you'd be a little scatterbrained if you were at the mercy of two hundred teenagers all day."

"You're absolutely right. I would be," he says, smirking devastatingly. "Someone ought to get you a coffee or somethin' if you're dealing with all that."

"People like you should go argue with the school board. I'm sure you'd be popular with all the teachers."

"That'd be a first. I think I might've been the least favorite parent for all of my girls' teachers."

"Well, I find that hard to believe."

"Yeah?" He asks, leaning forward just a little, and you nod, smiling. Your brain struggles to come up with something to say, and you're a little embarrassed at your silence, but luckily, your projector saves the day by buzzing loudly and making the picture on the board cut in and out. You mumble a quick apology before getting up and climbing up on a desk to jiggle a piece back into place. You hear Joel curse behind you, and when you turn to see what the problem is, you see him holding his arms out behind you. "Do you stand on desks often?"

"Only every day. I haven't fallen yet this year." You laugh at his exasperated expression and turn back to the projector. It's still making a weird noise, so you move it around a little more, moving the desk under your feet, and Joel stabilizes it with a sigh.

"How long has it been doin' that?"

"Couple months. I keep putting in maintenance requests, but nobody ever comes to fix it."

"I can fix it for ya," he says simply, and you look down at him. "I've got tools in my truck. It wouldn't take long at all."

"Really?" You ask, and he nods.

"It'd make me feel better knowin' you're not almost breakin' your neck every day."

"You mean, standing on a decades-old desk to mess with an ancient piece of equipment isn't OSHA compliant?"

"Please," he says, grabbing your ankle when the desk wobbles under you, and you laugh at his worry. "Let me fix it for you before you give me a heart attack." You think about declining and just putting in another work order, but the likelihood that anyone would actually come and fix it is slim to none. Plus, you really shouldn't be climbing on top of desks every day. You pretend to think it over for a few more seconds just to watch the worry play across his features as his grip on your ankle gets tighter.

"Only if you really mean it."

"I really mean it," he says, offering you his other hand. "Now, would you please get down?"

"Fine." You say and take his hand. You bend to safely get yourself down, but Joel moves his other hand from your ankle to your waist and basically hoists you to the ground. Once your feet touch the floor, he doesn't let you go immediately like he's trying to figure out if you somehow got hurt when he wasn't looking. There's a part of your brain that's aware of how inappropriate this would look to any passersby, but you're also highly aware of how warm his big hand is on your hip.

"Ya alright?" He asks softly, and you nod, taking a conscious step back from his arms.

"Yes, thank you."

"Good," he says, also taking a step back. "Let me go get my tools, and I'll get that fixed for you."

"Perfect. I'll be here." You stand there, staring at each other awkwardly, for another moment before he turns on his heels and walks out of the classroom. The second he's out of your line of sight, you bury your head in your hands and start silently freaking out.

What the fuck are you doing? How did a parent-teacher meeting turn into him hauling you off a desk and offering to fix your projector? Technically, nothing incriminating has happened, and it needs to stay that way. It doesn't matter if you think he's attractive or like how he worries about everything. He's Ellie's dad. Teachers have gotten fired for much less than this, and you're not willing to risk your career because of one guy.

When he gets back with his toolbox, you're sitting at your desk and sorting through assignments like a reasonable adult. He doesn't say anything as he climbs up on the same desk you were standing on and begins messing with the mechanics of the equipment. You each work in silence for a few minutes before a screw clatters to the ground, and he grumbles something under his breath. "Do you mind..." he starts, pointing toward the lost piece.

"Not at all." You cover your anxiety with your chipper teacher voice and search for the screw with your phone flashlight. You find it tucked between canvases, carefully pick it up, and walk over to where he's standing, waiting for him to be ready for it.

"It looks like it's just an old piece in here. I'm sure you can order a new one, and I can come back and install it if ya want," he explains, looking down at you. You probably look stupid just standing there with a tiny screw in your hand, but he doesn't laugh. "D'you mind handing me that tool to your right?" He asks, and you blindly reach for the tool you think he's talking about. "Your other right." He corrects, and you flush in embarrassment.

"Sorry. I never was a very good woodshop student." You say, and he laughs once he has the tool in hand.

"My girls are the same way. Just askin' ‘em to hold a flashlight while I work on their car is like pullin' teeth," he says fondly. "Speaking of which, is there a reason the lights aren't on in here?"

"The lamp light is less harsh, and it helps students focus. Plus, nobody likes coming into a bright classroom first thing in the morning." You explain, and he hums.

"If I'd had a teacher like you growing up, I would've been at school much more than I was."

"You didn't like school?"

"Hated it," he says, opening his hand for the screw. Once you drop the tiny thing into his large palm, he straightens up, and you can barely hear it going back into its rightful place. "'S a miracle I graduated."

"That was me in college."

"Now, I don't believe that for a second."

"Really?" You laugh, and he nods.

"Someone like you, with your pretty dresses and all that empathy, was meant to be a teacher."

"I wasn't always like this," you evade the compliment despite the butterflies in your stomach. "Being a teacher was never on my radar until I graduated. A lot of my life was never on my radar until then." He puts the hood of the projector back on and climbs down from the desk until he's standing in front of you again, wiping his hands on a red handkerchief from his toolbox.

"Well, with the way you carry yourself, I never woulda guessed." He says. He opens his mouth to say something more, but the sharp tone of the bell ringing cuts him off. You jump at the sound and look at the clock as if it were wrong.

"I'm so sorry. Time must've gotten away from me. Thank you so much again, Mr. Miller, for coming in to talk with me and looking at the projector. I hope to see you and Ellie on Friday." You say quickly as the sound of rowdy kids fills the hallway, and you hold your hand out to him. He takes it and squeezes it firmly.

"You can call me Joel. Mr. Miller makes me feel old." He says, and you smile. He doesn't look old, unlike the other dads you've encountered. Sure, he's got some gray at his temples and in his beard, but it suits him.

"Joel, it is then." You resolve. His hand lingers in yours for a little too long before finally pulling away. "Well, Joel, unless you want to elbow through teenagers, I'd suggest you hide out here for a few more minutes." He does happily, even helping you carry supplies to your car once the hallways have cleared out enough. He's a proper gentleman, slinging your backpack over his shoulder and opening doors for you. You part only once everything is in your trunk, and he bids you goodnight with a charming smile that fills your thoughts on your drive home.

Ellie surprises you the next day as you're setting up the classroom. Normally, she isn't in until right before the bell rings, so seeing her this early is a little bit of a shock. The ink staining her hands is not. "Hey, dude. What's going on?" You ask. "Did you get breakfast from the cafeteria today? I heard Mrs. Hodges has those French toast sticks that everyone loves. You can probably get two servings if you run."

"No, I already ate. My dad and uncle had to leave early this morning, so we got breakfast. Speaking of which," she says as she takes off her backpack and pulls a cup of iced coffee out of her water bottle pocket. "This is for you. We didn't know what you liked, so we got a vanilla latte or something."

"Oh, El! You didn't have to do that. Thank you, honey." You say, and she sets it on your desk for you to enjoy once you don't have paintbrushes in hand. "If this is your way of getting a good grade on your piece, I already told you that you have nothing to worry about."

"It wasn't my idea. It was my dad's." She says nonchalantly before moving to the back of the classroom to get her sketch book. You, however, are confused and secretly pleased that Joel thought of you when he didn't have to. You find a message scribbled on the side when you reach for the cup to take a sip.

Thanks again. See you Friday. -J

You turn to hide your smile from Ellie, but she's so deep in her work that you doubt she would've noticed anyway. You put some music on, and you and Ellie work silently on your projects until the bell rings and the day starts.

The rest of the week goes by without a hitch, meaning that nobody accidentally ingested paint, and you only had to have one Come to Jesus talk with your Art 1 class. When Friday night rolls around, you're excited to see all the students work and treat yourself by wearing a new shirt with black scribbles all over it and black dress pants. You figure you should look as art teachery as possible for an art teacher event.

By the time you get to the school, the hallways are buzzing with students dragging their parents from one piece to another and administrators praising their art programs even though you know not one of them has seen the inside of an art classroom in months. You make small talk with some of your students and their parents before finding a way out of the conversation and letting yourself wander through the makeshift gallery. You love your kids, but you really don't want them breathing down your neck as you look at all the art. You're almost at the end when you hear a familiar voice calling your name, and you turn to find Ellie walking toward you with Joel and, who you assume to be her uncle, next to her.

"Hey, kid! I'm so happy to see you here!" You say sincerely, and she smiles shyly. You turn to her uncle and hold your hand out to introduce yourself.

"Tommy. We sure have heard a whole lot bout you at home." He says with a smirk, and you laugh.

"All good things, I hope."

"Of course. Ellie just bout worships the ground you walk on," he says. "Joel was singin' your praises, too."

"Alright, I think that's enough. Why don't y'all go walk around, and I'll catch up with ya?" He suggests, and Tommy chuckles. Another teacher calls Ellie's name from down the hallway, and she's quick to drag Tommy off to meet him, leaving you and Joel alone. He's replaced his black shirt with a light blue dress shirt, and it looks like he's recently trimmed his beard. He looks nice.

"Singing praises, huh?" You raise your eyebrows at him, and he smiles sheepishly. "Thank you for the coffee the other morning, by the way. It was a really nice surprise."

"Figured it was the least I could do to thank you for takin' such good care of my girl."

"Well, thank you. I owe you."

"You don't owe me a thing," he says. "Although, Tommy was a little upset that I didn't bill you for lookin' at the projector."

"Was he?" You ask, and he nods.

"Oh, yeah," he laughs. "Said next time I should, at least, ask you on a date."

"Mr. Miller-"

"I thought you agreed to call me Joel." He raises his eyebrows in a silent challenge, and you shake your head, fighting a smile.

"Joel, while I'm flattered by the offer from someone so handsome-"

"You think I'm handsome?"

"I can't date my students' parents." You say, ignoring his question, but even then, the playful look on his face doesn't fade. "Well, I can leave you to it. I know Ellie will probably want to show you around."

"Right. Of course," he says. "It's really nice to see you."

"You, too. I'm just glad I didn't have paint in my hair this time."

"I don't know. I thought it was kinda cute." You feel yourself blush at his words, but you have to shut it down before it can become anything more than flattery. You take a deep breath and try not to let that stupid smirk weaken your knees as he watches you.

"Goodnight, Joel."

"Goodnight, ma'am." He says, tipping his head politely before sauntering down the hallway like he owns the place. Trouble, you think to yourself. But you can handle trouble. It's in your job description, for Christ's sake.

So, you brush off the flirting and try to ignore how his kindness and sweet words made you feel. You absolutely cannot flirt with the parent of one of your students. Dating is completely off the table. You can handle this like an adult. You have to.

After a cold shower and a leftover dinner, you check your email once more before going to bed that night. Sitting in your inbox with alarming clarity is an email from Ellie with the subject line: Art Club. Her email is somehow just as short as her subject line.

Simply, "When can I start -E."

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha

563 notes · View notes

goldenlikedayl1ght · 2 months

Text

wildest dreams - m. murdock

a/n: i have literally not been inspired for two weeks then i was STRUCK with the urge to write this. guys. i am so proud of this one i am not even going to lie. this one is dedicated to @bunmurdock because i am literally always thinking about professor murdock.... i really hope you guys enjoy this one, because i enjoyed writing it :) warnings: SMUT! inappropriate dynamic, P in V smut, so much cursing, lots of inappropriate thoughts and pining, power dynamics, dirty talk, reader does an edible and is high for a small part of this fic, reader isn't stupid in this one! she is just horny! she is also deaf, and there is yapping of readers daddy issues word count: 6.3k likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated! <3 summary: you have a huge crush on your professor and spend many days desperate for him. pairing: professor!matt murdock x hoh!reader now playing: wildest dreams - taylor swift (taylor's version) "i said, "no one has to know what we do"/his hands are in my hair, his clothes are in my room"

You could treat him better than any of these other horny grad students.

Seriously, that is your only conscious thought watching this man move around the front of this lecture center. You’re not dumb, you know everyone sitting here wants him—Those who are attracted to men want to fuck him and those who aren’t seek his approval. But you are built different, you’re also lacking a major sense, besides, your brain runs ramped with disgusting thoughts about the man.

Today’s focus is on the man’s outfit. It’s his last class of the day, and it shows. His clothes are a bit more wrinkled, and his hair is messier than it had been when he started the day. But most importantly, his jacket is thrown on the back of his chair, meaning you have a phenomenal view of his torso.

He wears a white button down, with the cuffs of the arms rolled up to just below his elbows, the bottom of the shirt tucked into the waistline of his pants. The shirt is tight, maybe a little too tight, especially around the arms. Maybe it’s because he works out. Or at least, you assume he works out.

That brings us to his tie. Oh, his tie. It’s nothing special—a pure black tie, just hanging from his neck. Your mind wanders. It starts at the dissection of a key court case in the subject of minimum wage, but from there, it starts drifting to his tie.

You think about the tie moving back and forth above you as he thrusts into you, brushing against your face, pulling on it to bring him closer. You think about that soft half chuckle he does, before he says something dirty like—

“Did you have something to add?” His voice right in front of you snaps you out of your trance. Fuck. You were not paying attention.

“Uh, No, Professor..” Your face is a deep red, embarrassed. You wish you could take off your hearing aids to stop listening to all the giggling from around you, from peers who are thrilled that Professor Murdock’s little (not-so) secret admirer got called out for her staring.

“Hm,” he taps the table in front of you, “Then I want you paying attention.” He says, before going back to his lecture. You could die right there. Everyone is laughing at you. He embarrassed you.

Okay, so you have no proof that he’s ever wanted you in the way that you’ve been so god damn desperate for him, but it’s still crushing that he’d single you out in that way. That maybe while you were increasingly needy for him, he found you fucking annoying, in such a way that he felt the need to embarrass you in front of your peers.

You want to melt—Melt into a puddle with just your boots and your hearing aids left behind so you never have to face him ever again. That’s why you’re so relieved when he dismisses class right on time (Well, right on time for him. He always ends class five minutes early to leave room for questions) and you quickly gather your things.

Because of the sheer level of embarrassment he has caused you, the other students in the class who want him try to flock to him, sensing that you no longer have the confidence to engage with him—But your desire is still there, as you messily shove your things into your backpack. You turn when you’re finished, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

Your face is still flushed, part because you’re embarrassed, part because you are out of breath from rushing. But you are faced with the view of your professor, all alone. Your breath hitches when his hand moves up to the top of his tie, as he smooths it out, running his fingers down the fabric.

“I read your essay on the expectations of the courts and law versus the realities of it. I loved it. The argument using Gideon versus Wainwright to justify the existence of the right to counsel as a civil right and not a liberty was fascinating, especially considering your other arguments about how race, class and gender play into those realities. Well done. I thought it was some of your best work.”

Your face is flushed for a new reason now. Wasn’t this the same man who was mad at you for not paying attention?

“I thought so too.” You confess, and he just smiles. He loves that you’re confident in your work. You’ll make a great lawyer one day.

“Oh, and,” He digs through his leather satchel to pull out some notes, running his finger over the folder tab to make sure he has the right folder, “Here are the printed copy of our notes from the last few lectures.” It’s part of your accommodations that professors give you a copy.

“Thanks, Professor.” You smile gently, reaching out to take the papers. Your hands meet and as you grip the notes, the tips of your fingers just barely brush against his. Neither of you say anything. Neither of you let go.

“I’m sorry if I embarrassed you today.” He starts, “But you’re bright—Smarter than most of your professors, I bet. And I don’t want you to fall behind.” He says softly, and without saying it, you know he’s worried because of your hearing. He was disabled in law school once upon a time, and he recognizes your potential.

“It’s okay.” You say softly, softer than your voice usually is. “I get it, really. It won’t happen again.”

“Good.” He says gently, letting go of the papers now. As you clutch them close to your chest, his hand goes back up to mess with his tie again. Does he know what he’s doing? Does he know how wild it drives you? He must. “I’ll see you on Thursday.”

“See you on Thursday.” You agree, and that’s when you leave the classroom.

As the door closes behind you, he listens intently. He hears your nervous heartbeat, could practically feel the heat radiating off you. But he knows your routine by now. You’re about to start playing music, and he likes knowing what sort of mood you’re in as you leave his class.

A smile spreads across his face when he hears the opening notes of that new Hozier song, ‘Too Sweet’.

• • •

You are a straight A student. You study days in advance for exams, you write elaborate study guides and most of all, you do not miss class, unless you are dying (no, seriously, the last time you missed class you were rushed to the hospital, sick with pneumonia after a big exam, which you aced). So, when you’re not in Matt’s class on Thursday, he tries not to panic.

You’re a grown woman, he tells himself, and he doesn’t have an attendance policy, having told the class on syllabus day that he trusted them to know when to come to class and when they should go lay in the sun or stay home with a bad cold.

But you once came to class doped up on cold medicine with a mask on, just because you didn’t want to miss any important information. He heard it before you got to class, so he faked a family emergency to cancel class early that day. He could hear your rattled sigh of relief as the other students flooded out.

And he knows for a fact you didn’t show up today because of how fucking loud you are; You don’t mean to be, but he can hear the light buzzing of your hearing aids, and you wear these big work boots that stomp even when you’re trying to step lightly. And he heard neither buzzing nor stomps today.

Oh, your boots. He’s spent years with everything being too loud, but he just can’t help but think about the boots—What color were they? What were their texture? He has this fantasy that lives at the very back of his mind of putting you in heels, heels too big for anyone let alone a girl who only wears clunky work boots, that way he would have to help you, take care of you, and it is a fantasy that will probably live at the back of his mind until he dies.

Sure, he’d probably get married, settle down with someone his age and never worry if she might be dissatisfied with an older man, and she’ll be quiet. No hearing aids, no big boots. They’ll have kids, they’ll be happy together. He’ll still go to you when he can’t sleep, and no one will ever know.

Wait, what was he doing? Oh, right. You weren’t in class today.

His fingers move over the keyboard to look you up in the system. He clicks on the audio assistant to read him your information. It reads out your first and last name, middle initial, then your grade in his class (A+), your accommodations (Notes, time and a half, things like that), your birthday, and—

Wait, he takes a moment, and his fingers go over to his braille calendar, realizing that you’re taking a day off because it’s your birthday. A laugh escapes his lips, because how silly was he being?

His fingers move again to find your email address. He debates for a moment before adding the subject line, “Absence Today.” Then, he erases it and changes it to, “Class Today”, hoping you wouldn’t freak out before reading the email.

And just for a moment, he lets himself dream. He writes the following email to you,

“Hey, sweetheart—

Happy Birthday. I’m so happy you’re taking a break, you deserve it, more than anyone else I know. Are you doing something fun for it? Going out and getting wasted? Hooking up with some college guy who couldn’t fuck you properly?

If I could, my birthday gift to you would be a day spent with my face buried between your pretty thighs, although that might be a birthday gift to me and not to you. I’ve always been a selfish man, and you seem to be something I am entirely selfish about. I want your hands tangled in my hair, tugging on it as I taste you. I want you all to myself. I didn’t hear the buzzing of your hearing aids or the clunking of your boots, and I felt this striking yearning.

I can’t stand being around you without having you. It’s torture.

Happy Birthday,

Matthew.’

He thinks about it for a minute, before completely erasing the email, and sending you this one instead:

‘Missed you in class today! We went over the reading for Chapter Seven. Happy Birthday! Professor M’

He sends it, and then rubs his face, a long sigh leaving his lips. He is completely enamored by you, and it is so unfair. You’d be in class on Monday, he told himself. He’d see you then, and it would be like getting his fix of you.

Then, he turns to the distraction of trying to grade papers. It won’t work. He’ll still have you on his mind all day, and there will be no relief in sleeping. Hopefully he’ll dream of that long day between your thighs.

• • •

Truth be told, you were not drinking and fucking some random guy when Matt emails you. You were cuddled up in bed, giggling and eating snacks, so many snacks, because, well, you took an edible with a bunch of your friends and now are high out of your mind.

Some animated shows are on in the background, and when your phone buzzes, you pick it up and almost melt when you see the email from your favorite professor. You start giggling like a kid, your fingers clutching your phone as you read the email over and over again.

One friend looks up to you from her place on your floor and asks, “Are you alright?”

You don’t answer at first, but then you nod, and pull your blanket close, imagining Matt’s arms around you. Your brain paints you a picture of him holding you against his chest and gently playing with your hair.

It’s a nice fantasy.

• • •

For being a law student, you really fucking hate it sometimes. Okay, that’s not true. You love being a law student and are so excited to go out into the world and make that difference. But you’d be lying if you don’t sort of contemplate dropping out and getting a sugar daddy over certain assignments.

Maybe Matt is in the market. Then you shake your head to get the thought out of there, before opening your laptop to check your professor’s office hours. The one that assigned this assignment is an old bat who does not have office hours except for during your other classes on Fridays.

Then, you look at Matt’s office hours. He has office hours right now. You click the pen in your hand a few times, thinking. Contemplating. Would he want to see you at this point? Would you be able to control yourself?

You give the question you’re working on one more time before you lean down and grab your boots, starting to lace them up. Then, you pack up your bag, heart beating nervously over what—Asking him for help with an assignment?

You make it all the way across campus, the whole time worried about if you’ll walk in on your professor with some other girl. You almost laugh at that thought, because you think you’re silly for how dramatic you are about the man.

You stand down the hallway from his office for a few minutes, just contemplating. You could just turn around and not at all open the possibility of being around him, and everything stays the same. Nothing changes, and your relationship with your professor maintains it’s strictly professional relationship.

You walk towards the door, knocking on it before holding your breath.

“Come on in,” He calls from behind the door. Now or never. You open the door, and smile in his direction.

“Hey, professor,” You greet, a soft smile on your face. His tie is loose around his neck. You blink away whatever daydream your brain wants to dive headfirst into.

“Hey,” He greets, “I don’t think you have any assignments due, so what’s up?” He asks, tilting his head in your direction. As you think about it, you realize that you do not need help with an assignment.

“This is going to sound like a lie. But I had trouble with this assignment earlier, and suddenly I walked in here and realized I knew exactly what I was doing. I’m sorry for bothering you.” You explain, but you make no attempt to turn around and leave.

“Let me guess,” He starts, gauging by what year and academic proficiency you’re at, “Professor Reid’s estate planning class? That assignment about the will and testament of an old lady with a marriage less than 90 days and estranged kids?”

You groan and take a seat in one of the chairs in his office. He laughs in response, shaking his head.

“That old bat.” You roll your eyes. He just smiles and shakes his head.

“You’ll be fine. Just remember to cheat on your final.” He tells you, and you give him a perplexed look.

“What?”

“Well, for the final, there’ll be a question about a super niche argument on inheritance. Just cheat on it.”

“You’re a professor, telling me to cheat?”

“I cheated on it,” He shrugs. You suddenly remember that he used to go to school here and has taken all the classes you’re struggling with right now.

“You’re being unprofessional.” You tell him, and he smiles again. Your heart skips a beat, and somehow, his smile grows. As if he knows exactly what sort of effect he has on you. As if this is all a game he likes to play with you, his eager and willing participant.

“Okay, forget that I told you to cheat on Reid’s exam. We have to talk about something, it would be awkward to just sit here in silence. Uh, what did you major in in undergrad?”

“English. I minored in Disability studies.”

“So why Law?” He asks curiously, leaning forward and clasping his hands together, before resting them on his desk. Jesus Christ.

“I’m tired of being poor.” The answer slips out before you can really stop yourself. He laughs again, and something in you stirs. As if making him laugh is the newest way you feel good about yourself. How twisted is that? “I’m being serious!” You laugh too, unable to contain it.

“I’m sure,” he promises, “I grew up poor too, I was sick of it too. But if you’re going to be a lawyer—”

“You need to have respect for the law and the people taken advantage by it,” You finish, “I get that, really, I do. And I want to help people. I want to go into divorce law and help all the poor and battered women like—” You’re forgetting yourself. You’re forgetting that this isn’t a date and that this man is your professor.

“Like..?” He prods you to finish, curious. He is on the edge of his seat about you. This is more than he has gotten of you in the past few weeks you’ve been taking his class.

“Like my mom.” You finish suddenly looking for something to do with your hands. Anything, really. “But the check that comes with it isn’t exactly deterring me, you know?”

“I get that,” he says earnestly, “I was an orphan, one of those dirty scrappy ones you feel bad for,” he does that half chuckle that makes you want to go over there and kiss him. “Never knew my mom, and my dad died when I was young. So, I get it. Being poor and wanting to do better for yourself. For your parent who sacrificed for you.”

But it clicks for him, the hidden meaning behind your ambitions. You have daddy issues, and he can tell that’s part of your crush on him. Though, he’ll never say it to you. He’ll let it be something unspoken between the two of you.

“Yeah, I guess you do get it.” You smile softly. But this is dangerous. So so dangerous. The two of you are dancing this dangerous line—Well, more like you’re damn well dancing clear over the line and ignoring it. But you don’t know how to stop it. Maybe you don’t want to stop it.

“Well, uh, maybe you could finish that assignment while we’re here.” He clears his throat, straightening his tie and you try to connect the wires in your brain to focus on the assignment. You pull it out of your bag and place it on his desk, smoothing it out a bit. Matt gets up and starts to wander around the office, and you look at him curiously. “I think better when I can move around.”

You should’ve known that much, you have stared at him doing lectures, wandering from end to end of the rows and rows in the classroom.

“Yeah, totally,” You nod, focusing on the assignment. It’s on paper, the old bat refuses to use online assignments. You’re practically flying through the assignment, and it’s at the point where you are forgetting your company. In fact, you really don’t notice him.. Until you lean back and stretch, jumping when you realize that Matt has taken a spot right behind you, his hands on the arms of your chair, leaning forward. You’re practically leant up against him.

“See? Was that so hard?” Your face flushes, his voice right next to your ear. He has to know; he has to know how you’re affecting him. You tilt your head a bit, and your eyes are level with his chin. His stubble moves as he sets his jaw. He doesn’t smell much like anything… except the faintest hint of clean sheets and this slight scent of mahogany. It would go perfect with a whiff of whiskey.

“No,” you say quietly, and he almost shudders at the feeling of your warm breath against his cheek. “Not at all, Prof—”

“Call me Matt.” It’s almost begging. You’re kind of into it, but that’s not surprising given how incredibly attractive you find him.

“Okay.” You say quietly. He has reduced you to one-word answers. The two of you stay quiet for a while. You’re unsure what to say. Matt is contemplating his options. Anyone could walk in on the two of you like this. The door isn’t locked, and you want to bring this up, but the words die out in your throat. His head tilts a bit towards you, and you get a glimpse at those perfect lips of his.

“You know—” He starts, but before he can get any farther, you lean in and kiss him. You kiss him intensely, your hand on his cheek, and for once, you are not filled with regret at a bad decision. He doesn’t react at first, and for just a second, you’re nervous.

Then, He kisses you back, letting out this deep hum as he deepens the kiss. He tilts his head to get deeper into your mouth, and his hands make their way down to your hips. He focuses for a second, before wrapping his arms around you to pick you up and sitting you on his desk.

His hands trail down as the pair of you kiss, landing on your thighs. His fingers rub back and forth, and you gasp when he squeezes your thighs. He grins and takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. Your clunky boots hit against his desk and he practically growls at the sound. He pulls away, his teeth biting your bottom lip as he does.

You’re completely out of breath, and so is he. He stumbles back a bit, his lips swollen and bright pink from kissing you. He wipes his mouth as he pants, and inhales deeply. You run your fingers through your hair, brushing the hair that has fallen onto your face.

“We..” he mumbled gently, running his hand over his chin. “Holy shit, kid—”

“Don’t call me kid—”

“Listen,” he goes over to you and brushes the hair from your face, “That was.. it was phenomenal, but someone could’ve walked in on that, and.. Fuck, if we do that again, I won’t be able to keep my hands off you.” he confesses, his hands on your cheeks.

“When I was staring off into space last week, I was thinking about your tie.” You tell him, your hands are finding the base of it now. He tilts his head, curiously.

“What were you thinking about?”

“Was daydreaming about it brushing against my face as you fuck me.” You could swear his face is red. You grin.

“Yeah?” He laughs, taking the tie from you and bringing the tie up to brush against your cheeks, “Like that?” he teases, and you laugh back. Dick.

“Mhm,” You giggle, and your hands find his, wrangling the tie out of his hands, and tugging on it, before bringing him in for another kiss. He inhales deeply as he kisses you, taking the taste of you in for a moment before pulling away.

“I’m serious, sweetheart, this is dangerous.”

“Sweetheart?” You grin. He takes your chin and grips it between his thumb and pointer finger.

“Hey. Pay attention.” He says, and you want to argue that saying things in that low gravely tone will not help you pay attention, but you can tell he’s serious. That he wants your attention focused on him, this is important. “Listen. I like you. I like you a lot, but we have to be careful if we want any of this to go further. We have to be subtle and watch our steps.” He says softly.

“Okay.” You promise, “Okay, we should be careful.” He smiles gently and leans in to kiss your forehead.

“Good pup.” He hums, and your face flushes.

“I like ‘pup’.” You like sweetheart too, but your stomach flips when he calls you pup.

“Yeah, I know you do.” He grins. “Wanna get out of here?”

“I thought you said we have to be careful.”

“Okay, then I’ll give you my address and you can come over.” He shrugs. “I know how badly I need you, I can only imagine how you feel.” He hums, and you grin.

“Okay, Here, give me your phone.” Matt fishes his phone out of his pocket and hands it to you. You put your number in with your name, sending yourself a quick text before handing the phone back to him. “There. Send it to me.” He steps back so you can hop off the desk, before putting your homework back in your bag.

As you sling your bag over your shoulder, he grabs your wrist in his hand and pulls you close, just to kiss you again.

• • •

Your hands are shaking as you drive over to Matt’s apartment. You’re so full of desire for him, and you take a second after parking the car to adjust your hair and makeup. Luckily you had no plans with your friends so it’s not like you’re hiding anything from anyone.

Are you about to sleep with the professor you’ve had a crush on since the beginning of the semester? Hopefully. You take a quick glance down to the apartment number he sent you before climbing out of the car, locking it behind you.

Then, you manage your way through the building, finding yourself in front of his door for the second time tonight. You hesitate. Though, you’re not sure why. Well, maybe you do. Maybe you’re terrified that this is going to be bad. Or maybe that you’re scared you’ll be bad, and he’ll hate you.

Maybe you just need to get over yourself. Although, you can’t really do much more convincing because Matt swings open the door and grins at you. You almost die at the sight of him. His tie is gone, and his shirt is unbuttoned by three buttons.

“You’re so hot,” You blurt out as you hand him a cheap bottle of wine you picked up on the way here.

“You’re cute,” he hums, grabbing your arm and pulling you into the apartment, leaving you giggling as he closes the door behind you. You look around his apartment, your eyes catching on the giant billboard. You’re standing in front of the window when he comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. His lips gently kiss your neck, up and down, biting your shoulder gently. “Enamored by the billboard, sweetheart?”

“Your windows are so big, probably a lot of light in here during the day.” You say softly, and he smiles against your neck.

“Mhm, one day, I’ll fuck you against those windows—”

“Matt,” You groan, but he just shushes you and kisses your neck again.

“I know, pup,” He hums, “But don’t worry, I’ll show you a very nice time, hear all those pretty noises you can make for me.” You blush, turning to say something to him but he wraps his arms around your waist again, before throwing you over his shoulder and carrying you to his room. You’re laughing all the way there, before throwing you onto the bed.

“Mean.” You accuse, but he shrugs.

“You’ll get over it, sweetheart, I promise.” He hums, and you sit up on his bed. He stands between your legs, leaning down to kiss you gently, his hands finding your cheeks again. He kisses you like this for a few minutes, before slowly kneeling in front of you, never breaking the increasingly sloppy kiss. You pull away from the kiss to study him. He tilts his head, his hands finding your thighs to rub them again as he did in the office. “What?” he asks gently.

“I spent all those lectures only being able to study you from a far.. Just let me really look at you for a while..” You request. He grins gently as your fingers run over his stubble again. Your hands move up to his glasses. “Can I take these off?” You request, tilting your head.

Matt hesitates, just for a second. He’s not really used to it, to someone truly wanting to see him, every part of him. But he trusts you, wants you to see him. So he nods, letting out a soft ‘yeah’ as you pull off those circular red glasses, gently folding them and setting them down somewhere safe.

Then, you take a good, long look at his eyes. They’re this deep brown, almost black, irises that are drop dead gorgeous. The skin around his eyes is scarred, but the scars are old, yet, you rub your thumb gently against that scarred skin. You lean in and press a kiss to the corner of his eyes, first the left one, then the right one.

He leans up and kisses you after that, his hands slowly making their way down your legs. Your hands find his buttons of his shirt starting to undo them. He pulls away from the kiss, before slipping off his button up, throwing it away somewhere in the room. Your eyes drift down to these scars on his collarbones, and your fingers run over them. Then, you notice other scars on his skin, and your hands find those too.

“Your boots are so loud,” he hums, and you’re taken back by it.

“What?”

“Your boots.” He hums, “I hear you stomping around with these things on, they’re.. Like a bell, you know? I like knowing you’re around.” His fingers go down to the laces of your left boot, slowly untying them. Then, he does the same with the right boot.

He pulls off your boots, before running his fingers over your socks.

“They’re multicolored. Bright and patterned.” You confess, and he grins, before pulling them off. Then, he stops, realizing you have another pair of socks on. He blinks, before starting to laugh.

“You have two pairs of socks on?” he chuckles, your face flushing.

“My boots are just a little too big!” You tell him, and he laughs, resting his head against your thigh. He finishes taking your socks off, before working on the buttons of your jeans. When he finally gets those undone, he pulls off your pants, throwing them somewhere close to his now abandoned shirt. His hand comes up to rub you through your panties, and he lets out a scoff as he does.

“So wet for me, pup..” He mumbles, coming up to gently kiss your cheeks and then your jaw, as you whine. “I know, baby, I know,” he says softly, rubbing your clit gently. You whine gently at the feeling, gripping his wrist. He chuckles softly, kissing you to shut you up a bit.

He pulls his hand away from your throbbing cunt to pull off your tee shirt, throwing it wherever. He starts to kiss you as you fiddle with the buttons of his pants and pull them off, letting him step out of the before he casts them away.

You grin into the kiss, before he pulls away.

“What? What’s got you so giddy, pup?” he asks, a grin on his face too.

“Briefs,” You hum, fiddling with the waistband of his briefs, and he laughs, shaking his head.

“Thinking about your professor’s underwear?” He teases, leaning in to bite your neck. “Dirty, dirty girl.” He grins, and you swat at his shoulder, which causes him to laugh. He likes having fun with you, even if it’s not inherently sexual.

His hands come up to run gently over your skin, trailing from your hands up to your shoulders, and then all the way to your ears, where his fingers gently run over your hearing aids. It’s a nice gesture, really, but as soon as his fingers brush over your hearing aids, you immediately retract, the feedback shooting through your skull, uncomfortably.

“Ow—” You cringe, leaning your head back to try and get away from his fingers. He cringes, hearing the feedback, not as badly as you do but knowing it’s there and that you’re in pain pains him.

“I’m sorry,” he coos softly, his fingers moving down to cup your jaw. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart, I hadn’t realized—”

“Hey, it’s okay,” You hum, tilting your head to kiss his palm gently. “It happens, It’s why you should never touch them while I have them on.” You shrug. He leans down and kisses your stomach a bit, before going back to kiss you again, deepening the kiss a bit before roughly shoving you back on the bed. You giggle as he climbs on top of you, caging you in between his legs, as he slips his tongue into your mouth again. He kisses you with passion and need, and it drives you entirely too wild. As he pulls away, one hand comes up to grip your chin, before he leans down with his head against yours.

“Want me to fuck you, pretty thing?” He asks gently, his voice sweet as honey as he talks so obscenely to you. You whine, finally getting what you want after weeks and months of waiting. He just smiles and shakes his head, “No, no, puppy, you gotta say it to me.” He requests.

“Yes, I want you..” You groan, bucking your hips a bit at the thought of him finally fucking you.

“Want me to do what?” he asks, innocently.

“Want you to fuck me, please..” You request, and this finally seems to satisfy him. His hand comes down to unhook your bra, throwing it behind him with the rest of your clothes, before his lips begin to travel downwards, kissing down your jaw and neck, before he’s kissing the valley of your breasts, his hand going down to rub your clit again.

He groans against your skin at the feeling of your wetness soaking through your underwear and listening to your moans. His hands begin to work to take off your panties, and as soon as those are gone, your hands come up to his briefs, wanting them gone.

“Off, off, off—” You huff, and he laughs as he slips them off. Then, he reaches over and grabs a condom from the bedside table, but you grab his hand, shaking your head, “No, no—I’m on the pill, promise.”

“You sure?” He asks gently, and you nod, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips.

“Sure.” You nod, and then you’re kissing him again, your hand going down to stroke his cock, and he gasps into the kiss, before chuckling. He pulls away to mutter out to you--

“Needy girl,” he purrs, before moving to kiss you again. As you’re kissing, he slips his cock into you, and you moan into the kiss, tensing at the feeling, “Relax for me, pup.. So fucking tight for me.” He groans, his hand coming down to swat your thigh. “Relax.” He tells you, his voice sterner this time.

You nod, trying to form a more conscious thought than the pure bliss you feel, your hands wrapping around his neck, scratching down his back a bit. He groans softly, as he starts to slowly thrust into you. He is using every ounce of self-control he has, resisting the urge to absolutely violate you.

But he’s trying to be gentle, be nice.

“Faster,” You gasp out, your fingers pulling on the hair at the nape of his neck. He does that half chuckle, and it makes you whine as he begins to speed up.

“Beautiful little pup..” he says lowly, “Been staring at me.. Wanting your professor so badly these past few weeks, dirty little thing,” he hums, “Fuck, so.. fuck..” Your legs are beginning to shake the longer and harder he thrusts into you. “So fucking good for me..” You whine into his lips as they crash into yours, one hand going down to rub your clit gently, the stimulation too much for someone who hasn’t had sex this good, ever, but especially because you haven’t had sex at all in the past.. well, six or more months.

“Matty, ‘m..” You can barely get the words out as he fucks you harder,

“I know baby, come on, cum for me, pup,” he coos, his thrusts nor rubbing slowing down, maintaining his pace. Within a minute, you’re coming with loud moans into his ears, and he’s following suit shortly after, coming deep inside you.

But for the few minutes after the two of you finish, he continues his thrusting, relishing in the pretty moans and the sound of his deep thrusts into you. Eventually, he slows down, remaining deep inside of you. He pulls you close, kissing you deeply before flipping the pair of you over, and holding your legs close to stay buried deep inside of you.

For a few minutes, there are no words spoken, just deep, frantic pants and sweaty skin against each other.

“You know, that was as good as I’ve been fantasizing about for weeks.” You pant, “Better, even..” He laughs and nods.

“Me too..” he kisses you softly. “Let me take you out somewhere.”

“I thought we had to be careful..”

“We’ll go away somewhere then. Just the two of us for the weekend. I need to be with you, I can’t get enough of you now that I’ve had a taste.. Besides, I haven’t even eaten you out. Now that, that is going to be fun.” He grins, and you swat his arm.

“Evil, mean man!” You gasp, and he just laughs, kissing your forehead.

“I’m sorry, pup, let me make it up to you,” he hums.

“How?”

“Calling you pup a few times, ordering Thai food and teaching you how to suck me off?”

“I know how to suck you off,” You scoff.

“Oh yeah?” He tilts his head, leaning in to kiss him. Then, lips still against yours, he whispers, “Prove it, pretty puppy.”

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x y/n #daredevil #daredevil fic #matt murdock fic #daredevil fanfiction #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x hoh!reader #professor!matt murdock #daredevil smut #matthew murdock #smut

311 notes · View notes

d0llylove · 2 years

Text

♡ indifferent [1]

♡ pairing: saiki kusuo x f!reader

♡ synopsis: kusuo found himself noticing one of the most boring student in class, [name], finally realising she was the culprit behind his crisis of getting disturbed at random timings.

♡ t/w: slowburn, this will be a series, sfw, little angst? kusuo is lowkey stalking reader but its more like observing, similar to how he likes to watch satou 💀

♡link to pt2: friends? , pt3: furry feline

'what's the reasoning behind humans needing to pee more when it's cold...', it was the mysterious voice again sounding in his head, with another ridiculous topic.

'not again, it's the 10th time this week.'

the pages of the manga created a crinkling sound as kusuo gripped onto it, a vein popping out on his forehead. it was the mysterious voice again. always popping up almost everyday for the past week. the worst thing was that it would be so out of the blue, at random timings.

not only was the voice annoying, it was loud as well. kusuo wanted to use clairvoyance to find out who it was who kept interrupting his time for relaxation. however, the voice sounded rather feminine. and considering the type of things she says, kusuo was able to deduce that it was likely something called "shower thoughts" that humans regularly have.

even though he found the voice rather irritating, he still found the topics discussed amusing. although after listening for awhile, he'd put his germanium ring on.

it was against his personal pride to try to peek on a woman like that so he never tried to watch you. afraid he would end up doing something toritsuka would do, he would rather die than to be lumped in the same category as his purple headed friend acquaintant.

back to the clues kusuo was gathering, he knew she had to live near him. otherwise her voice wouldn't be so loud, and considering that it has only appeared this week, there's a high chance that she just moved in about five days ago.

'maybe it's because our bladders contract, ah yes! in the cold, it contracts so it holds less of our fluids!' it was her voice again, so enthusiastic.

'not an impossible theory, actually plausible. good job stranger.'

there was a moment of silence.

'what is the most reactive metal in the-', her voice was cut off as kusuo put on his beloved germanium ring.

'that's new, solving a chemistry question while in the shower.'

♡

the loud chattering of students surrounded him, kusuo had already gotten used to the noises in his head.

relief washed over his body when the teacher finally stepped into the classroom. it took awhile for everyone to settle down, but as soon as they did the teacher started speaking.

"today we will be discussing about the cleaning duties." she started, eyes narrowing as she glared at certain students before continuing, "I received several complains about a few of you skipping your duty, I'm sure you all know who you are."

'ah yes, the classic "if no one admits it, I'll punish everyone until someone does" how fair.'

"no, I will not be punishing all of you, instead, I'd like to pick someone to ensure that everyone does their duties." the teacher really contradicted saiki's statement, but it was hard to listen to her thoughts when everyone around him was panicking in their heads.

"I'd like to volunteer!" a fiery aura came from a certain someone. and to no one's surprise, it was hairo, everyone's favourite passionate class representative.

"no, I would prefer someone who has no other duties so that they can focus solely on this." hairo seemed quite disappointed but accepted it.

"what about [name]?" she suggested.

'who? are they even in our class?'

"miss, I don't think we have a [name] in our class," yumehara, a girl with short hazelnut hair spoke up.

kusuo could hear everyone's thoughts. it could be confirmed that majority of the class had no idea who this [name] is. or at least the loudest thoughts he could hear were people going "who the hell is that?" or, "I knew our teacher was delusional all along."

"I'm [name]," a feminine voice sounded across the classroom. everyone stopped talking, turning their heads towards the back of the classroom.

"w-what?! when were you there?!"

"I've never seen you in my life!"

"are you sure you're in the right class?"

'good grief, making a big deal out of nothing. I just think that no one knows her.'

saiki's eyes widened, he recognised... her voice, that voice. hold on, maybe he's just hearing things. he has never heard her thoughts before. she's so near him too, there's no way he would miss her thoughts. or rather, that was not the case.

'I thought I called the wrong person for a moment, i didn't even know she was in my class until i checked the name list last night...' the teacher thought to herself in embarrassment.

'you forgot your own student?'

"I was here since year 1," you grumbled, knowing that no one would remember you after this incident anyways.

'it's definitely her. how come I've never noticed her until today..'

kusuo stared at you. his eyes lightening with glee as he realized how normal you were. the type of person he always admires.

'she's so normal. she's just like satou-kun, if not better! she's so boring that she blends in so well, no one noticed but she's always been in over 10 frames.'

flashbacks played in his head as there were in fact several instances where you were seen near by the group. even back to the very beginning, in the first episode where saiki was seen explaining his powers, you were walking right behind him. another instance was when teruhashi first met and noticed saiki, you were right there! looking at displays at a nearby shop for a spilt second before the camera pans to the psychic.

heck, you were even at the same temple during new years with everyone, at one point even standing right beside saiki. it's a miracle that he had never noticed you.

♡

recess came by, everyone was excited to finally have a break from classes.

"hey pal! let's go have ra-"

"saiki! we need to find out the HQ of the dark reunion!"

"hey saiki, do you mind doing 100 sit ups with me?"

'lunch break is always annoying.'

kusuo ignored the three boys surrounding his table.

'because they always come to me.'

saiki got up, pushing his chair back and walking towards the door.

"I'm going to the bathroom," he told the 3 boys telepathically.

upon taking a seat on the toilet (yes the lid is down), saiki immediately used clairvoyance. he was excited to observe you, to learn from you.

there you were! sitting with one, no two people!

'that's good, she actually has friends. right now, her popularity is 49.'

at 49, you aren't popular enough to be noticed but not to the point where you would get bullied.

there was only talking here and there, you were mainly focused on your food, adding onto the conversation every now and then.

'no one knew who I was..' you stared at your food, poking it around with your chopsticks.

your lips were pursed into a thin line, trying to hide the fact that you were quite upset over the incident earlier.

'maybe I should dye my hair to stand out more, then people would forget me less..' you thought as you started contemplating about what colour you'd like.

'no [name], keep your hair colour,' kusuo's eyebrows furrowed. he liked how normal you were, similar to satou. however he didn't like how upset you were.

'good grief, i guess I could help you out.' kusuo let out a soft sigh before leaving the bathroom.

♡

14.00

finally, school has ended.

kusuo was back in the bathroom, observing you as you walked towards your locker.

opening it, you let out a soft audible gasp as an envelope fell out of it. you stared at the paper the laid on the floor, mind barely processing what was before you.

'did someone leave this in the wrong locker?' you thought to yourself in disbelief.

picking it up from the floor, noticing that your name was written on the bottom right corner, indicating that it was infact for you.

you tried not to overthink it, although a small part of you was hopeful that this was a genuine message for you, from someone who actually wants to befriend you perhaps?

you turned your head around, checking if there was anyone around before opening it. pulling out a piece of neatly folded paper. as you unfolded it.

'is this a joke.' you deadpanned. staring at the paper that you held in your hand.

a picture of a dog?

'damn it! I thought once in my life I got a love letter. turns out its just someone trolling me.'

you let out a sigh.

kusuo on the other hand as starting to regret not choosing something else. he knew he was horrible with words, so he thought an image of a cute dog would cheer you up. he didn't mean to add fuel to the fire.

your lips curled into smile, 'still.. it's pretty cute, maybe rika-san left this for me, she's always pretty thoughtful of people around her.' you placed the photograph back into the envelope before putting it safely into your file. you were going to protect this with your life.

#saiki no psi nan #saiki k #kusuo saiki #saiki x reader #saiki kusuo x reader #kusuo x reader

970 notes · View notes

am-i-the-asshole-official · 6 months

Note

AITA for yelling at my mom before she went away on an emotionally taxing trip to another country to take care of my hospitalized grandmother?

The town I'm in went through a mass shooting a couple weeks ago, you might have seen it on the news. I'm a college student and was staying on campus at the time, and everyone went through lockdown for a couple of days. I remember not being alerted there was a shooting going on until I had already been walking around outside for at least a hour while it was happening five blocks down, and then staying in my room while on a call with my friends until 7 am who were trapped in other buildings and had to sleep on the floor while listening to the police scanners and news stations for more info. The lockdown ended after a couple of days, but I still felt not Great, especially with all the lack of management from campus and the news reporters taking photos and videos of us during the lockdown. I had several panic attacks for days afterwards, and I'm still having them now.

I texted my parents a couple hours after it started confirming I was okay, and my dad basically texted back "I saw, you'll be fine, just stay away from the windows." This made me very upset because I thought he already knew about my situation and didn't even bother texting or calling first. But in a phone call later with my mom where I basically exploded at her for saying the same thing, I discovered he just looked up news articles 2 minutes after I sent the text and then texted that, and didn't know how close the incident was. She said that she'd be mad if what I thought was true, but in another phone call confirmed they had a talk and then told me my dad just has issues communicating sometimes and "you have a nervous personality" and so I should learn to accomodate him more. I also blew up at this and told her that he's not the one in a mass shooting right now so why do I have to accomodate for him (triggered by a pattern of this in the past) ((He still hasn't called or texted me since other than sending a quick apology for the misunderstanding).) We ended up having a very emotionally charged talk and my mom also stated her mom got hospitalized, it's all very stressful right now, and that's also why they didn't say anything about it in the family groupchat because they didn't want to stress out everyone with even more bad news and to please not tell anyone yet about it. She started ranting again about how bad her childhood was with her mom for like a half hour and I had to cut her off and redirect her. But in the end she said she now understood how serious my situation was and that I could talk to her anytime about it.

Well, I thought that was it. But after they found the shooter 72 hours later and lockdown ended, my mom called me and basically assumed that everything was fine now and I was feeling "normal" again. I was admittedly pretty cagey and told her I wasn't for several reasons and she seemed confused but didn't push it. Then a day afterward she texted me and said one of her friend's daughters had a college essay they had to submit tomorrow and asked me if I could help them and they'd buy me lunch later when I got back. I was annoyed but I ended up telling them to send it to me in a Google Doc and I made some comments, but then she called me again and asked me if I could get on a Zoom call with the daughter and fix the essay together with her. I told her no several times and asked her why I had to do this if she didn't even bother preparing this essay beforehand until the last minute, but my mom said "It's a nice thing to do", and "She really needs help", and wouldn't take my no as an answer after 10 minutes. Then I basically blew up at her one final time and told her that I just went through a mass shooting and I've been comforting my friend who saw some of the dead bodies and I'm having panic attacks and why can't she ever take no for an answer and that I hate her and then I hung up on her.

She basically texted me later and said she realized how inconsiderate her request was when I said that one of my friends saw the dead bodies. She said she's leaving to go to visit my grandma soon but I can call her any time if I want. It's been a couple weeks and there's been no communication from either of us.

I feel bad for blowing up at her since she didn't seem to know how bad it was and also her mom is hospitalized and it's very stressful. So, AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #mass shooting cw

64 notes · View notes

eustasskiddsprosthetic · 23 days

Text

I was replying to someone on my Sabolaw fic on AO3 and I casually mentioned the idea of professor!Sabo. More specifically, English Professor!Sabo. I'm debating about their ages but feel free to imagine whatever you want! Just note they're all of legal age! Sabo teaches 'Introduction to English Literature' in a huge lecture theatre. He does not care who's an officially registered student and who's just here to hang out. He welcomes anyone willing to listen! He speaks casually, because he realises that's the most efficient way of communicating to students—both literature and otherwise. That made him a very beloved professor.

He does this for several years part time, alongside his regular work as a journalist and book writer. He loves talking to students in one-on-one consultations. He thrives on active participation, both from students and his TAs. Yapping is just as important as breathing! On a rainy day, the most sleep-deprived, pinnacle of idgaf-ism, sloppily-dressed guy Sabo had ever seen, walked into his lecture theatre forty-five minutes early with a cup of coffee.

"Hello!" Sabo says brightly. He turned to Sabo and blushed slightly. "How can I help you?"

This individual, Trafalgar Law, is pursuing a masters in medical humanities and is a TA. As always, Sabo's friendly and promises to help Law in whatever way he can. That said, he felt that Law's kind of a prick. Law's sullen and seems to have no opinion on anything other than the weather. Still, Sabo pushed on.

On the first lecture of the semester, Sabo makes every TA introduce themselves with their specialties. Everyone generously shared about their research and why they're doing what they're doing.

When it's Law's turn, Sabo was genuinely surprised to hear that Law had nothing to say other than his name and the fact that he's interested in the 'multi-disciplinary nature of medical humanities'.

"Can you elaborate?"

"I studied medicine in my undergraduate years with a minor in literature," Law said. This was clearly not in Law's script. "I wanted to be a surgeon, but I got disillusioned for lack of a better word."

"How so?"

Law blushed. "When I was a child, doctors refused me treatment for a fatal illness because they've been misled to believe that it is contagious, despite multiple papers proving otherwise. I want to change that. I don't like how hospitals discriminate against patients."

Law was soft spoken but Sabo knew everyone could hear him even without a microphone. Sabo appreciated his efficiency. They were slightly behind, actually. That was alright, Sabo thought, Law could speak up throughout the semester!

Law did not speak up. On his own free will, anyway.

Sabo knew Law was one of the few people who paid attention to every word he said. He wanted to hear Law talk for longer than a single sentence. That made Sabo try something relatively new. He usually respected students' wishes to keep to themselves.

"In The Sound and the Fury, William Faulkner features four eccentric narrators to tell us about the Compson family's fall from grace. Can anyone explain why he would do that?" Sabo waited. He knew that not many people would have read the novel in full.

"Law?" Sabo laughed when Law glared at him.

"I'm not sure, I never thought of that."

"Thirty seconds to think about it!"

Law spoke after thirty five seconds, "Having everyone be at least a little 'eccentric', as you put it, reminds us that mental illness manifests differently in different people."

Sabo nodded. The little shit clearly thought about it before.

"Well, doctor," Sabo loved how easily flustered Law got. "If they're unwell, how would you cure them?"

"They can't be cured," Law said decisively. "They're incurable to remind us that we are what we believe in. If you keep holding onto unhealthy principles, you'll end up traumatised and inarticulate. I think that's what Faulkner's trying to say."

Sabo found it cute that Law was still very clearly passionate about medicine despite being 'disillusioned'. He thanked Law for his answer and moved on. Despite Law glaring at him every time, Sabo still picked on him at least once every seminar.

On one hand, Sabo liked hearing Law speak and on the other hand, he thought Law's grumpy face was so dang cute.

The following year, on a similarly rainy day, Sabo found a pastry next to his briefcase and Law bowing slightly to greet him. To Sabo's surprise, Law was his TA again.

Law claimed it was because he needed the money, but Sabo knew Law liked him, if his nervous, somewhat embarrassed smile was anything to go by. At least, that was what Sabo thought since he was producing a similarly awkward smile. He thought a bespectacled Law was cute.

Things were better this time. Law stopped glaring whenever Sabo called on him and even indulged Sabo by speaking up first. He still spoke in less than five sentences, but Sabo realised Law was being efficient, rather than rude or shy. Again, Sabo thought Law was cute.

On the last day of the school term, Sabo ended the lecture early to let everyone go home to rush essays and study for exams. Just as he was packing up after answering a couple of last minute questions, he noticed Law walking up to him. That was new.

"Hi, Law! How may I help you?"

Law smiled. Sabo realised he had not seen Law smile at him before. "I'm finishing my masters paper soon and I'll graduate this summer."

"Congratulations!" Sabo was genuinely happy to hear that.

"Thank you for everything, Sabo," Law said. Law never addressed him by name before. He usually called Sabo, 'prof' or 'sir'. It was a nice touch, especially when he said it so warmly. Law gave him a piece of paper that was folded in half.

"What's this?"

"I wrote a question inside. You're not obliged to answer it, if you don't want to. It's quite personal and I understand if you're uncomfortable." Law stopped Sabo from opening it. "Not now. Maybe later today."

Sabo laughed. Students gave him anonymous questions before. "Sure! I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Thank you for your help, Law! I enjoyed having you in class."

Sabo thought Law's bashful expression was particularly adorable. Law waved good bye and left. There was a good feeling left in the air.

Sabo was alone inside the lecture theatre. Not many people turned up today. It was warm and slightly humid outside. Sabo thought this would be a good time to have an impromptu picnic with his brothers. In that calm atmosphere, Sabo lightly peeled open Law's note, feeling oddly curious.

Sabo laughed out loud when he successfully deciphered Law's doctor handwriting.

"Would you go out with me?"

#this silly idea exploded into a full on drabble #but that's the brief of my idea yeah #sabo #revolutionary sabo #sabolaw #trafalgar law #bro i know im a lulaw truther or smth but sabolaw uhhhh;;;#there's something about this ship that i cant put my finger on #is it the fact that I hc as being the relatively smarter folk in Luffy's circle?

27 notes · View notes

southparktegreity · 1 year

Text

✩ study buddies

[ kenny mccormick x reader ]

synopsis : you'd never really met kenny mccormick, not until you two both got partnered with each other for a project. you seemed to catch his eye after that.

gender : neutral cws : none word count : 2,424 requested : yess !! off tumblr a friend requested it :))

NOTICE : all characters are aged 19/20's! this takes place in college !

You were never the type to go out of your way to talk to people. Some people dubbed you the most introverted introvert they'd met, though that's only if they got to meet you. Generally speaking, you had avoided nearly everyone at your school - and previous schools before this one.

However, here you were, sitting next to Kenny McCormick. Somehow you managed to get partnered with one of four people you had wanted to avoid. You were never too fond of 'Stan's team' as most people called them. They were loud and brash, and drew all kinds of attention. There was Stanley Marsh himself, the drunken wallflower. Kyle Broflovski, one of the few straight A students with quite the temperament. Eric Cartman, who had fucked you over more times than you could count, and then finally - Kenny McCormick. You didn't really know much about Kenny, aside from the few rumors about his perverted nature. Though, rumors were just rumors, and you couldn't be bothered to believe them.

Kenny was looking at you, you could feel that. His gaze snapped you out of your thoughts. You just weren't sure what to say or do, staring down at the assignment paper - examining it as if it was the most important thing in the world. Kenny slowly looked over your shoulder, as he sat next to you. He was looking down at your intense gaze - as if you were avoiding looking at him.

"I don't bite, you know." Kenny spoke with a charming smile, one that would woo anyone with a beating heart. Including you. You could feel your face subtly heat up under embarrassment, realizing you should've said something sooner. All you could muster up was an apologetic look on your face, before leaning back in your chair and setting your homework down.

Kenny clearly took note of this, though feeling unsure as to why you weren’t too keen on talking. He didn’t know you very well. In fact, he’d bargain to say he’d never even really heard of you. At least not from his main friends. He knew you talked to his good friend, Butters occasionally and sometimes Heidi but other than that, who were you? Kenny felt himself slipping away into his thoughts, as you continued to work on whatever the assignment was.

Your mind wandered to Kenny as you looked down at your paper, beginning to read the instructions aloud. You couldn't help but peek over your paper to see if he was even listening, to which you found his eyes wandering around the classroom.

"Are you okay?" You mustered up the courage to say, after long consideration. "We can work on this another time, if you're busy - or just aren't feeling it."

"Uh -" Kenny looked back at you as you snapped him out of whatever he was thinking about. "Yeah, yeah actually. We should go to a park or something." He spoke gently towards you.

"No need. Let's just go over to my house. I can order pizza or something. My parents should be out for the rest of the night anyways." You softly smiled as you got up, starting to move away as you picked up your stuff. "Just be over there around five, okay?"

"Sweet! That's perfect, I'll see you then!" Kenny smiled at you, his grin evident in his eyes. When you turn away, he mumbles a silent prayer - thank god he didn't have to bring you over to his house. What a nightmare that would've been.

Meanwhile throughout the school day, Kenny decided to ask around about you. He decided to skip out on asking his friends, knowing exactly how that would turn out (especially with Cartman there). So that left him with Cartman's ex, or his own best friend. One of which would probably give him the most straightforward answer.

Kenny found himself looking around for Butters, only to find you talking to him right in front of his locker. His heart nearly stopped as he hid behind the nearest wall, listening in to your conversation with him. Kenny knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, but he couldn't help himself! He had known nothing about you, wouldn't you do the same?

"Heya, y/n! Whatcha doin' later? Wanna come over?" Kenny heard Butters say. He had no idea you two were close enough to hang out. That got his mind wandering, and he felt a pinch in his heart.

"Oh... I wish we could hang out but I invited Kenny over to work on some school work."

"What? Really? I didn't know you guys were friends! Oh hamburgers, I woulda gotten you both to hang out sooner!" Butters spoke with a giggle and a smile - as he always did.

"I don't know if I'd call us friends..." You shrugged, placing a hand behind your neck. "...He's just coming over to finish up our project - not that we even really started."

"Oh I getcha." Butters looked down, then back at you. "I'll see ya around y/n, I gotta get to class!" You waved your goodbyes to each other. You turned the corner only to find a certain blonde, bumping into him and dropping your stuff.

"Oh - shit! I'm so sorry.." You immediately bend down and start grabbing your stuff, quickly before picking up a book with someone else's hand touching yours. You looked over at Kenny, his face flushing a little as you both stood there holding the book and each others hands. Your stomach started feeling funny, doing backflips on itself. You quickly put your book back in your pile, out of pure embarrassment, then standing up to look down at Kenny.

"Sorry." Is all you could muster up before walking away. Little did you know, you forgot three little papers on the ground, leaving Kenny to pick them up for you. He smiled down, looking at them. He couldn't help but admire the little doodles you put on the page, little swirls or silly characters. He sighed bashfully, holding onto the papers on his chest and walked off gleefully. Completely forgetting to talk to Butters entirely.

Kenny found himself paying more attention to you, he could never quite catch up with who you were with or spending time with each hour. It was a new group each period, but you never seemed to stay with them for very long. He wondered what it would be like to have so many friends. He's only really hung around his little group of four, and Butters of course.

He couldn't help but watch as you spoke to Wendy about who knows what. He couldn't help but watch your eyes light up as you spoke about something with her. He couldn't help as his mind wandered, were you talking about a boy? Someone other than him? A friend of yours? A friend of his?? Butters?? He felt that same tinge he felt earlier, that same jealous feeling sneaking around him like a snake.

His mood was now sullied, as he looked down at his desk - putting his head down on it. Wondering to himself how he'd never given you the time of day sooner.

Meanwhile, you were talking to Wendy about a certain orange parka wearing boy. You were asking her questions about Kenny, trying to figure out if he was sweet and interested or if he was similar to a certain chubby trouble maker in his group.

"So... Wendy. I wanted to ask you a bit about Kenny.. Is he um -" Your face flushed a little before speaking up. "You know is he like the people he hangs out with?" You fidgeted with your hands.

"Why are you asking me this? I thought you two didn't really talk?" Wendy looked at you a little confused, putting a hand on her hip.

"Oh! Um... we got paired together for a project, and I just - you know... want to make sure he's a good dude and all." You fumbled over your words, giving Wendy a hint as to what you were really getting at.

"Well, I've only hung out with Stan's friends a couple times... usually without Cartman there." Wendy looked up, putting her hand on her chin and thought for a moment. "Kenny's pretty quiet, he's got a similar sense of humor to Cartman but I don't think he's even nearly as bad as him. Though, he does have a reputation with women. I think it's all fake though, probably one of the girls spreading rumors about him." She shrugged.

"Reputation?" You looked at Wendy with curious eyes. You thought back to what you told him earlier, 'nobodies home' and hoped to yourself he didn't take it the wrong way.

"You know, a lot of people say he sleeps around. Like I said though, I think that's probably just rumors people made up - wouldn't be surprised if it was Cartman or one of the girls." She sighed. "I'm sure he's nice though." Wendy smiled at you, a genuine one. "You two would make a cute couple." She said gently nudging your shoulder as you both looked over at Kenny with his head on his desk.

"You really think? Wait -" You looked back at Wendy, asking her somewhat confused as to how she knew where you were going with all of this.

"Mhm." She nodded her head, looking back at you while putting a hand on your shoulder. "Nothing gets by me!" You both laughed together, chatting a little more. Your eyes couldn't help themselves and kept glancing over at a certain boy.

You had just finished up cleaning your room, preparing some space around your desk area for the both of you to work. Soon after you had heard the doorbell ring, which prompted you to run down the stairs, but not before taking one last look in the mirror to make sure you looked good.

You swiftly opened the door, looking at Kenny up and down before opening the door a little more to let him in.

“Hey.” He looked at you, awkwardly stumbling into the door.

"Hey, Kenny." You smiled at him, a little nervous. "We can go up to my room? You know to study." You spoke, pointing to the direction of your room.

"That's what I'm here for right?" Awkwardness hung through the air, you both looking back at each other unsure as to why the tension was building.

You nodded, leading him off to your room. You made sure to leave some space around for him to sit at your desk.

"We should get to reading the textbook right? Since it's part of the assignment?"

Kenny nodded as he sat down, flipping through random pages in his backpack, lord knows he'd never organize any of it. While Kenny was searching for his stuff, you decided to get right into reading, hoping the tension in the room would cease and you both could relax a little.

Kenny hung onto every word you spoke, for once in his life he felt like he was understanding the passages in the textbook. He couldn’t help but think to himself how beautiful you were, even while speaking about something mundane and uninteresting. Somehow you were able to grab hid attention, with the topic and otherwise. Maybe it was the glimmer in your eyes when you spoke, or the way you’d fumble over your words whenever you looked up at him. Kenny watched you work as if it was the last time he’d see you. That was, until you broke his trance.

You had stood up, and started to stretch. Your joints making that sweet classic noise as you started to stretch. Your arms in the air, bending over each other. Kenny watched, for a moment and thinking about how flexible you must be. He shook his head ridding himself of the thought, thinking it’s probably better he doesn’t make a joke about that (just yet). His mind wandered back to what it had earlier, the tinge in his heart when he thought of you with someone else. He needed to act now and fast.

“I’ve something for you.” Kenny opened up his bag, taking out the notes you had left when you dropped your stuff. “You left this.. when you bumped into me.” Kenny smiled, feeling a little awkward.

“Thank you Kenny.” You met his gaze, just for a split second before turning away and setting them on the table.

“Um.. I figure, while I’m here… I might as well ask…” He took a deep breath in, looking down at the papers you both had been working on earlier. “Do you like Butters?” His eyes met yours, desperate for you to say no, not that you’d ever know that.

“Pff - what kind of question is that?” You couldn’t help but let out a giggle. “We’re in college now! Remember? This isn’t elementary school!” You nudged his arm, your touch lingering a little bit longer than usual.

“So.. I take it that’s a no?” He perked up, his confidence rising a little more than it had been before.

“Yes, I don’t like Butters.” You giggled, leaning closer to Kenny. “But… there is someone I’ve had my eye on all morning.” You nervously put a hand back on the table, sitting back down to regain and steady yourself.

“Mm, and who might that be?” Kenny questioned, raising an eyebrow at you - almost teasingly.

“I dunno, why? Are you getting jealous?” You teased right back to him, the air playful and your hearts beating faster.

“So what if I am? You gonna do something about it?” Kenny looked back at you, glancing at your lips before looking back at your eyes.

“Mm.. maybe, maybe not. We’ll see where the night takes us.”

“Oohh.. you’re such a tease.” Kenny flushed, looking over and away from you. His face looking off to the side.

This prompted you to place a hand on his cheek turning him to look at you. He looked back at you, then your lips, then at you, signaling for you to make a move. Then you quickly placing a gentle kiss on kiss lips, reaching your other hand up and on his other cheek. Meanwhile, his hands found themselves placed against your waist, holding you gently as to not ruin the moment. Unfortunately, you both were soon running out of air - leading you to let go of him, looking back at his blue eyes.

“How’s that for being a tease?”

#south park x y/n #south park #south park x reader #kenny mccormick x reader #south park kenny #south park kenny x reader #kenny x reader #kenny mccormick

261 notes · View notes

chicgeekgirl89 · 18 days

Text

Chapter 8 is live on AO3!

“I’m telling you, I saw its eyes turn red before it charged at me!” Mateo cries.

“Probie,” Paul rolls his eyes. “It’s a pig. Not some sort of hell spawn from one of your superhero movies. Its eyes can’t turn red.”

“Not a pig,” Judd grunts from behind his magazine.

Mateo gives them all a superior look. “I know what I saw.”

“What I saw was you running faster than I’ve ever seen anybody run in their whole life. I don’t think your feet were even touching the ground,” Judd says, making them all laugh.

The javelina call is definitely going down as one for the books. T.K. and Paul had rescued the students from the closet while Marjan, Judd, and Mateo had put out a small fire the javelinas had started in the dorm kitchen. How they managed it with nothing but hooves and tusks is a mystery, but it was licking at the ceiling by the time they got to it. Apparently somewhere along the way Mateo had had a run in with one of the animals and every time he tells the story it gets dramatically more intense.

“At least it wasn’t a gator,” Marjan says, setting her book on her lap.

“You think a gator is worse than a demon pig?” T.K. asks, feigning disinterest by playing Candy Crush on his phone, but secretly eager to rile his teammates up as much as possible.

“Not a pig!” Judd says again, his tone full of long suffering.

“Um yeah,” Marjan says. “Gators can weigh up to a thousand pounds, they’re incredibly fast, and they have between seventy-five and eight teeth. And if a gator gets you, it’s not letting go. Pigs are just…pigs.”

“With tusks as long as my arm!” Mateo protests.

“Okay do not make me say this again!” Judd says. “Javelinas ain’t pigs! They’re an entirely separate family of animals!”

“Why are you guys yelling about pigs?” Tim asks as he and Nancy walk into the room.

“Yo, you’re not going to believe this call we went on!” Mateo says, taking a deep breath to start telling his harrowing tale for the tenth time.

“Give it a rest Mateo,” Paul tells him, and he deflates, sending her a glare.

“Where’d you all get to?” Judd asks as Tim and Nancy sit down on the sofa.

“Mugging gone wrong downtown,” Nancy says. “Victim probably would have died if not for an off duty cop who took the mugger down. Guy had a knife though, it was messy.”

T.K. is only half listening as he works his way through a particularly difficult level of candy themed fun. But the mention of a cop perks his ears up a little bit.

“You guys were gone awhile,” Paul says, checking his watch.

“The cop was bleeding pretty badly. It took us a long time to get it stopped,” Tim says.

“Anybody we know?” Marjan asks.

Nancy shakes her head. “Some guy named Reyes? I’ve never met him before.”

The world tilts. Air rushes out of his lungs. “What did you say?” T.K. asks, every eye in the room turning to him at his sudden question.

“Cop named Reyes got stabbed during a mugging,” Tim says, then he turns to look at Mateo. “I’d actually like to hear the pig story.”

Judd slaps his paper down onto his lap. “Javelinas!!”

The room devolves into good natured squabbling, but T.K. isn’t listening anymore.

Reyes could be anybody.

But somehow he knows it’s not.

He gets up abruptly and takes himself through the first door that offers privacy, which happens to be the shower room. He sinks down onto the bench that runs through the middle of the space and uses shaky fingers to find Carlos’ most recent text.

Officer Hottie- Carlos

[9:26pm] I’ll pick you up so you don’t have to.

T.K.

[9:27pm] My hero.

T.K.

[10:52pm] This is going to sound crazy, but are you okay?

He waits and waits, the minutes agonizingly long. There’s no response. Not even a read receipt. But it’s late. Maybe Carlos is sleeping. Or with his family. There are a thousand reasons he might not be responding to T.K.’s text.

And yet he can’t shake the feeling of dread that poured over him the second Nancy said Carlos’ last name.

The locker room door opens and Paul wanders in. “There you are,” he says. “Can you believe Mateo is still going on about those javelina things? It’s like he’s never seen a wild animal before. He’s lived in Texas his whole life but I’m more of a country boy than he is.”

“Mm,” T.K. says, still staring at his phone, willing Carlos to text back.

“You okay?” Paul asks as he reaches for his shaving kit. “You look worried.”

T.K. sets his phone down and tries to get his heart to stop beating so fast. “The officer that Tim and Nancy just worked on? Reyes is Carlos’ last name.”

“Carlos like, six-pack abs, police officer that you’re obsessed with, Carlos?” Paul asks.

“Yeah. We were supposed to go out yesterday, but he had a work thing come up. And now he’s not responding to my text.”

“Well it is late,” Paul says.

“Yeah.” T.K. stares morosely at his darkened screen.

“You haven’t even been on a date yet, right?” Paul asks.

“Not for lack of trying,” T.K. says with a sigh.

“You’re pretty worried about someone you’ve met in real life for all of ten minutes,” Paul says. “I’m not judging,” he adds quickly when T.K. scowls. “Just trying to figure out where your head’s at.”

T.K. shrugs. “I…really like him. He’s nice. He never makes me feel like I’m bothering him.” He looks up. “You know he sent me and my dad coffee after my dad’s accident? Who does that? Sends coffee to a guy he only knows through a phone screen?”

“A guy whose mama raised him right,” Paul says. “And who clearly likes you a lot.”

“But how is that possible?” T.K. asks, feeling slightly desperate. “It’s just texting. And like, two phone calls. It’s weird that I feel like I know him from that, right?”

“It’s not weird. It’s romantic,” Paul says. “You know, people used to send love letters back and forth all the time. Entire relationships were written out on pieces of paper. They didn’t hear each other’s voices or see pictures, they just wrote down everything they felt and hoped it made it through the mail. This is the twenty-first century version of that.”

T.K. hadn’t thought about it that way. “Well, that makes it seem nicer,” he says, his voice slightly grumbly over the fact that Paul is making sense instead of joining him in the anxiety spiral.

He checks his phone again. Still nothing.

“If you’re that worried, ask Tim or Nancy if they got the guys’ first name,” Paul says. “I really think you’re stressing for nothing though. This is Texas. There have to be at least a few other guys in the APD with that last name.”

“Yeah, maybe,” T.K. says.

But he only knows one who would go after a mugger while off duty.

The rest of the team wanders in to get ready for bed, but T.K. heads back out to toward the rigs. Tim and Nancy are restocking their inventory. “I just think if they’re going to call it America’s Got Talent they should have some talented people on,” Tim is saying.

“You wouldn’t know talent if it bit you on the ass,” Nancy scoffs. “Did you see that choir from South Africa? They were amazing.”

“Isn’t it all fake though? Aren’t they lip syncing?”

Nancy makes an outraged noise and T.K. decides to cut in before things get even more heated. “Hey guys,” he says.

“Oh, hey T.K.,” Tim replies.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt I—“ He hesitates, uncharacteristically nervous. He realizes how stupid this is going to sound. And Tim and Nancy are part of the firehouse, but he doesn’t know them super well. Paramedic schedules are different than fire and it means their team feels a little separated from the rest of the group.

“Everything okay?” Nancy asks. It’s clear from her face she thinks he might be sick or hurt in some way.

He’s already here, he might as well go for it. “The cop you worked on during your last call. You said his name was Reyes?”

Tim nods. “Yeah that’s what he said.”

“Did you happen to get his first name?”

“Um, yeah, I think we put it in our notes.” Nancy reaches for a clipboard and runs her finger down the page.

T.K.’s heart is so loud he can hear it in his ears, feel it throbbing in every part of his body. This is so dumb. The chances are so small, and even if it is Carlos they barely know each other. There’s no reason for him to be panicking like thi—

“Carlos,” Nancy says.

His heart plummets into his shoes and he swallows hard. It’s his Carlos. Of course it is.

“T.K.?” Tim’s voice sounds a little distant and a lot concerned. He takes a step toward him. “Are you all right?”

“I—“ He doesn’t know what he is. ‘All right’ is definitely not it though.

“Dude you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Nancy says. “Do you want to sit down?”

He sucks in a breath, clenching his fists until his nails bite into his palms, using the pain to ground himself. “Was he—how bad was it?”

“I mean, there was a lot of blood,” Nancy says, looking at him curiously, like she’s trying to figure out what exactly is happening here. “The mugger got him pretty good. But he was stable when we dropped him off.”

Stable. Stable is good. But stable doesn’t always stay that way. Especially not when you’ve been stabbed. “Okay, thanks,” he says. His voice sounds wooden even in his own ears.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Tim asks.

“I’ll be fine,” T.K. tells them, then he turns and walks away without another word. He pulls out his phone. There’s still no reply so he texts again.

T.K.

[11:07pm] Please let me know that you’re okay when you can.

There have to be other Carlos Reyeses around. T.K. repeats this to himself over and over as he brushes his teeth, then continues the mantra as he lays on his bunk in the dark. It doesn’t help. He doesn’t sleep. They don’t even get a call to help him take his mind off of it. It’s the quietest night they’ve had in months, something he’d usually be grateful for, but tonight his brain won’t quit. The hours tick by without a response and the longer it goes on the more certain T.K. becomes that Carlos is in trouble.

By the time their shift ends in the morning he feels a little manic. Reckless. More like New York T.K. than Austin T.K.. There’s an itching under his skin, a buzz, the desperate need to do something.

“Yo, you wanna grab breakfast?” Mateo asks, slinging his backpack over his should as they head for the parking lot. “This new place has bomb chorizo breakfast burritos. Life changing bro.”

“I can’t,” T.K. says quickly. He’s not sure why he says it. His schedule is clear. The only thing waiting for him at home is his dad who has probably repainted the master bedroom and built a new doghouse for Buttercup by now. His therapist would likely tell him it’s better to be around people when he feels like this than to go stew by himself. He should say yes. But he can’t.

“Cool, catch you next time!” Mateo gives him a little wave while T.K. throws his bag into the back of his dad’s car.

He’s driving before he’s fully formulated a plan and that’s probably why he ends up in Carlos’ neighborhood. He’d mentioned it a few weeks ago, the first time they’d tried to go on a date, in relation to a couple good coffee shops.

T.K. is aware in the back of his mind that this is stalker behavior. But he’s not planning to do anything. He’s just driving. He doesn’t know Carlos’ house number anyway.

At least, not until he passes a condo with a blue Camaro in the driveway. That has to be his, right? How many people with flawlessly washed and polished blue Camaros can there possibly be on this street?

He puts his car in park, chewing on the inside of his lip as he considers his options. This is a bad idea, but T.K. has never met a bad idea he didn’t at least seriously consider. And he can already tell that today he’s going to let his impulsivity win.

It’s better than drugs, right?

He’s always been an expert at ignoring the voice of reason, so it’s easy to tune it out as he walks across the street and rings the doorbell of a random house on a random street to possibly see a random man he’s barely even met.

The person who answers the door is not Carlos. “Hi?” the woman says, her dark eyes looking him up and down curiously. “Can I help you?”

“I’m looking for Carlos Reyes?” T.K. says. “Is this—does he live here?”

“Yeah, he does,” she says, those eyes narrowing, clearly trying to figure out what’s going on. “Who are you?”

“I’m T.K.,” he says.

Her eyes go wide and she immediately slams the door shut in his face. He blinks in surprise as she starts speaking in loud, obviously dramatic Spanish on the other side. He’s just about to slowly back away and pretend like this never happened, when the door is wrenched open again and a different woman with the same dark eyes stares out at him.

“You’re T.K.?” she asks.

“Yes?” What the hell is going on? Carlos never mentioned living with roommates or…T.K.’s stomach lurches. Oh god. What if one of these women is his girlfriend?

What if they’re both his girlfriends?

“Oh my god, it’s so nice to meet you,” she says. “I’m Luisa. Carlos’ sister.”

His knees nearly give out in relief. Of course Carlos doesn’t have secret girlfriends. He’s gay. “Oh, hi,” T.K. says, trying to recover from his momentary panic and the absolutely insane line of thinking it caused.

“Luisa! Invite him and close that door! You’re letting all the air conditioning out!” a third voice calls from inside.

She gives him a wry look. “Come in.”

He steps through the doorway and his eyes fall on a small, dark living room with a kitchen extending behind it. The first woman (that she’s also Carlos’ sister is so obvious now) is standing next to the couch, and the woman who belongs to the third voice is in the kitchen, a large pile of vegetables on the island counter in front of her.

“T.K. this is my sister Ana,” Luisa says. “She’s going to apologize for slamming the door in your face.”

“Yes, sorry about that,” Ana says, offering no explanation as to why it happened and studying him in a way that makes him feel like he’s being inspected by a military officer.

“And that’s our mom, Andrea,” Luisa nods toward the kitchen.

“Hola!” she calls back, waving a very large chef’s knife at him before returning to chopping. “You’re Carlos’ friend?”

“Um, yes,” T.K. says, unsure of how much Carlos’ family knows about his dating life and unwilling to reveal anything further to them.

Ana’s eyes gleam and she says something in Spanish that has Luisa sending her a cutting glare and sharp response, also in Spanish. Andrea’s eyebrows rise but she keeps chopping away.

When Luisa looks back at him her eyes soften again. “It was really nice of you to come by. I’m so sorry, but Carlos is sleeping right now and after last night he needs his rest.”

“You can stay though,” Ana says. “We’d love to get to know one of Carlos’ friends.”

“Yes, T.K. would you like something to drink?” Andrea is already setting down the knife and turning for the refrigerator. “There’s iced tea, I can make you coffee, or it looks like Carlitos has some sparkling waters in here.”

There’s such an air of family in the room that it’s a little overwhelming. He feels like he’s intruding on a private moment. “No, thank you,” he says. “Is Carlos okay? I’ve been trying to get ahold of him since last night and he hasn’t been responding.”

The mood in the room changes immediately. “You don’t know?” Ana asks. “I thought that’s why you came over here?”

Now he feels completely lost and more confused than every. “I—“

“No, he doesn’t know.”

A voice, scratchy with sleep floats down the stairs and seconds later Carlos appears. He’s moving slowly, one hand gripping the banister for support. His brow is furrowed in pain and he looks a couple shades paler than T.K. remembers. There’s a dark, purpling bruise along his jaw, shadows under his eyes, and his hair is mussed like he’s been sleeping.

Color spirals out into the room as T.K.’s eyes drink him in, his heart lifting in relief even though it’s clear that Carlos isn’t one hundred percent well.

“Hi,” T.K. says.

Carlos’ eyes, the ones he shares with his mother and sisters, lock onto T.K.’s and the pained furrow in his brow smooths out. “Hi,” he says quietly.

“Ay, Carlitos!” Andrea moves toward him, meeting him at the bottom of the stairs and gently taking his arm. “You go back up to bed this minute!”

“I’ve been in bed all morning,” Carlos tells her. “I’m fine.”

“You almost bled out last night. Get back upstairs,” Ana says in agreement with her mother.

He rolls his eyes. “I did not almost bleed out.”

Andrea clucks her tongue. “Thirty-seven stitches is close enough,” she says. “Bed.”

“A couch and a bed are basically the same thing,” Carlos argues.

“Ha!” Ana scoffs. “This leather monstrosity is barely even a couch. It’s so uncomfortable it’s a wonder you don’t have back problems from sitting on it.”

They continue to argue and T.K. once again feels like he should slip out the door. He doesn’t belong here. This is family business.

He clears his throat. “I should probably go—“

“No!” Carlos lurches toward him and then lets out an involuntary swear of pain that has all three women lunging in his direction.

He ends up ushered onto the couch where Andrea begins shoving pillows everywhere she can fit them, cushioning his head, his back, and his legs. Meanwhile Luisa sprints into the kitchen for a glass of water and a prescription bottle, and Ana grabs her phone claiming she’s going to call Carlos’ doctor immediately.

“Oh my god, get off of me!” Carlos grouses, using a tone that only a boy who is being pestered by his female family members can summon. T.K. has used it on his mom a time or two, so he’s familiar. “I just moved too fast!”

“Did you tear your stitches?” Andrea asks, reaching for the zipper on his hoodie as if she’s going to check.

“No!” he says, pushing her hand away. “Honestly the three of you are acting like I’m a child!”

“You called us in the middle of the night from the hospital,” Ana tells him. “This is what you get.”

“Okay,” Luisa says, obviously the peace keeper of the group. “I think we should give Carlos a little space. Maybe he and T.K. would like to visit for a bit? Why don’t we go upstairs and change Carlos’ sheets?”

“It takes three of us to change the sheets?” Ana asks.

“Ana callate.” Luisa grips her arm and pulls her toward the stairs.

“Ow!” Ana says sharply

“I’m barely touching you!”

“Your fingers are like bird talons!”

Andrea heads back into the kitchen and fills a second glass with water, setting it down by T.K. with a smile and then pressing a kiss to Carlos’ forehead. “Call if you need anything,” she tells him.

“Thanks Mom,” Carlos says as she heads for the stairs.

He sighs and then his eyes meet T.K.’s and the annoyance melts off of him. “Hi,” he says again, a little sheepish this time.

“Hi,” T.K. echoes.

“Ana thinks you’re too hot for me,” Carlos tells him, a wry smile twisting on his face.

“Is that what she said when she slammed the door in my face?”

“Yes. You’re too hot for me and I’m stupid for not doing something about it faster.” He shakes his head. “I’m so sorry about them.”

“No, I’m sorry,” T.K. replies. “I didn’t meant to interrupt anything I just…our paramedics came back from a run last night and said they’d had a patient named Carlos Reyes. I texted you, but you didn’t answer.”

Carlos sighs. “Yeah my phone got smashed during the altercation,” he says. “And honestly, I wasn’t in great shape to text anyway.” He looks at T.K. curiously. “How did you find my condo?”

Embarrassment colors his cheeks. “You’d mentioned the neighborhood at one point so I…drove around until I saw your car in the driveway.”

Carlos’ face breaks out into an incredulous smile. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. Sorry. Creeper status,” he says. “I was worried. What happened?”

Carlos fills him in, delivering the story in a way that indicates he’s spent many years writing detailed incident reports. T.K. winces a couple times, his own mind triaging the injuries Carlos lists and mentally field treating them with his dual EMT certification.

“They stitched me up at the hospital,” Carlos finishes. “I called my mom and she called my sisters. I didn’t expect all three of them to descend on me like this, but here they are. I think my dad would be here too except he’s taking it upon himself to breathe down APD’s neck and get this guy interrogated and brought up on charges.”

“Fun,” T.K. says. “I didn’t know your dad was APD.”

“Texas Ranger actually,” Carlos says. “I went into the family business. Sort of.” He shifts a little and then freezes, pain all over his face.

“What’s wrong?” T.K. asks, immediately sitting forward in his chair, his work mode activated.

Carlos lets out a shaky breath. “I told my mom I didn’t tear my stitches but…it kind of feels like I might have,” he says.

“I’m a dual certified EMT,” T.K. says, concern blasting through his veins. “I can take a look if you want.”

“Oh, no you don’t have to…” Carlos looks awkward now in addition to the pain still creasing the lines of his face.

He did not come all the way over here just to watch this man bleed out on his own couch. “I don’t mind,” T.K. says. “It could save you a trip to the ER.” He glances toward the stairs. “And the wrath of your mom and sisters.”

Carlos considers this for a second and then nods, clumsily unzipping the hoodie he’s wearing, pulling it to the side to reveal a large white bandage covering the left side of his ribcage. “It’s just the ones on my chest. The ones in my arm feel okay.”

“I’m going to be honest,” T.K. says as he sits down on the end of the couch so he can get a better look, “this is not how I thought seeing your abs in person for the first time was going to go.”

Carlos lets out a sharp laugh and then groans. “Oh god, don’t make me laugh,” he says, still smiling despite the pain in his eyes. “Also, fair warning, even though they’re upstairs, my mom and sisters are definitely listening to every word we say. So speak carefully.”

T.K. grins. “So I shouldn’t anything about how I think you’re incredibly sexy?”

Carlos blushes. “Probably not.”

T.K. winks. “Got it. I’ll keep that to myself then.”

He sits forward, using gentle fingers to examine Carlos’ bandage. “I don’t see any sign of significant bleeding. Do you want me to take it off and double check?”

Carlos hesitates. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

T.K. shakes his head. “Where’s your first aid kit?”

“In the powder room, under the sink.”

T.K. retrieves it and pulls on a pair of gloves before removing the bandage. He grimaces at the neat row of black stitches that follow a jagged line of torn flesh along Carlos’ ribcage and down his abdomen. “I am going to personally strangle the person that messed with these abs,” he mutters in annoyance.

Carlos snorts. “That’s the second time you’ve threatened to murder someone in like three weeks. I feel like I have a duty to report you.”

“Sorry officer,” T.K. says with a smile. “This looks good. Nothing seems loose and there’s some bleeding, but nothing excessive, which is normal. You probably just pulled them a little bit.”

Carlos winces. “So gross.”

“You get used to it.”

T.K. tapes on a new bandage then disposes of the old one and the gloves while Carlos zips himself back up.

“I don’t know if you’re into herbs and supplements,” T.K. says when he returns. “But my dad had me on a pretty strict regimen after I got shot and they definitely didn’t hurt.”

“That would be great,” Carlos says.

“I can—oh. Well I was going to say I’ll text them to you, but I guess not if your phone is broken. I’ll send them by carrier pigeon?”

“Pony express might be better in Texas,” Carlos says with a grin.

“Forget it. I’ll just bring some by tomorrow. If that’s okay?” T.K. says.

“Yes,” Carlos says immediately. “Please. I’m stuck here for at least a week and then it’s desk duty until these things come out.”

“Desk duty sucks,” T.K. commiserates.

“We need to reschedule our date too. I don’t think my mom is going to let me out of the house for a few days,” Carlos tells him. “Maybe next week sometime?”

“I’m actually out of town,” T.K. says. “Heading back to New York to see my mom.”

“Oh, nice,” Carlos says.

They compare calendars and are disappointed to discover that between T.K.’s trip and work they don’t have a free day another three weeks. “Well I guess javelinas can’t keep us apart, but the people in charge of the APD and AFD master schedules can,” T.K. says in disappointment.

“Yeah,” Carlos says, looking equally morose.

“Hey!”

A voice hisses at them from the staircase and Luisa peeks down. “Are you two almost done? I can’t hold them up here for much longer. T.K. if you don’t want a full interrogation I suggest you get out of here soon.”

T.K. chuckles and stands up. “I’ll take that as my cue.”

“Thanks for coming,” Carlos says softly, his eyes shining in a way that makes T.K.’s heart do summersaults.

“Do you have a piece of paper somewhere?” T.K. asks.

Carlos directs him to a drawer in the kitchen where he grabs a pad of sticky notes and a pen, writing for a minute before handing the top sticky note over to Carlos. “That’s my number for when you get a new phone. Try not to text somebody else this time, okay?”

“Haha,” Carlos says drily. “I’ll do my best.”

“I’ll stop by tomorrow with the supplements,” T.K. promises. “Don’t let them drive you too crazy before then.”

“No promises,” Carlos sighs. “I love them. But they are so much.”

Voices float down the staircase and his eyes widen. “Run. Save yourself.”

T.K. chuckles and turns to head out, but just before he reaches the door he turns around and goes back. Leaning down he gives Carlos a peck on the lips. “I think we should skip coffee and go straight to dinner.”

“Yeah,” Carlos says, looking a little dazed. “Yeah dinner is great.”

T.K. grins. “Good.”

This time he actually does go and as he shuts the door he can hear Ana’s voice trailing out behind him. “Did T.K. leave? I wanted to talk to him!”

He smiles. Carlos is in good hands.

#911 Lone Star #Tarlos #Tarlos Fic #911lsfic #Thirst Trap Thursday

23 notes · View notes

railingsofsorrow · 1 month

Text

chapter I | catharsis

summary: “Is there— is there something you need?” He's kind. He's so kind and his voice is better than she had ever imagined.

All of all the things she could have said, what came out is something else entirely.

“Your hair is shorter.”

w.c: 3.4K

warnings/content: mentions of mass food poisoning; implied unhealthy relationships (it will be explored later); germaphobia; fluff.

A/N: WE'RE FINISHED WITH THE LETTERS! I was too excited to start writing the longer chapters with a detailed narrative. I know it took too long but.... here it is, I hope you enjoy! annnd, they finally meet!

navi

masterpost

series masterlist

whoever wants to be tagged for this fic, fill this out or dm me.

LETTERS — [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9]

CHAPTERS — [1] [2] [3] . . .

❝Catharsis❞

[n.] THE EXPERIENCE OF EXPRESSING STRONG EMOTIONS THAT PREVIOUSLY WERE BLOCKED.

━━━━━━━━━ ✉ ━━━━━━━━

“Don't even start, Reid.”

Spencer pursed his lips, shifting on the passenger seat. “I didn't say anything.”

Derek scoffed, “I can hear you thinking.”

“Thought broadcasting is a common phenomenon that happens when one thinks others can hear your thoughts. That is not physically possible. It actually might be a sign of paranoia—”

Derek groaned loudly, begging for the gods above that the traffic went easy on him for five minutes. He needed five minutes to get to the other Interstate. Five. Minutes.

Spencer let out a snicker beside him, having too much fun in being correct as always. He had told Derek beforehand that the safest option would be to take the alternative route, even if that meant it was slightly longer than directly taking the I-95. They still would get to Norfolk University's Student Center faster.

Derek didn't listen to him and here they were, stuck in traffic just as Spencer predicted.

In some way, this was good.

Spencer hated being late to anything, which was why he always double-checks the time so he can get to any place earlier, just to be sure. Just in case. That's him. A pragmatic guy.

But when he heard where the next case was going to be, he backtracked a little.

Spencer has been corresponding with Iris Valencia through letters for the entire month of October. It felt like more, maybe years. He knows that this feeling is quite common for people who had found some sort of connection. They have affinity. A bond, if you will. It explains the reason for your comfort after you've just met someone. You used to be strangers, but you realise they like blueberry muffins too and then you have a coffee date scheduled in the afternoon. It is that simple, sometimes.

Spencer could never relate to that. Well, at least, not before Iris. Although he has never invited her over for coffee and they haven't spoken in person yet.

Yet.

But it felt like it. It felt like he has known her for a long time.

The case was in Norfolk University, 165,7 miles from Quantico. The place Iris worked as a microbiology professor and which she described that her whole department fell sick because of a supposed food poisoning.

That hasn't been the first time a university has had that kind of situation. As she mentioned in one of her letters, the Old Dominion University — another university located in Norfolk — was also on the news about food poisoning. The difference was that it had been only a small group of students that suffered the outcome. NSU had it worst, a large group of people had to be sent to the E.R.

The BAU was called in because of recent deaths in the area. When they eventually connected it to the food poisoning cases happening in the universities, Hotch divided the team into pairs to cover more ground. The suspect list was narrowed down to three students from Norfolk State University.

“What did you say?”

“You and Morgan are off to the M.E's office.” Hotch repeated as they left the precinct.

“You're going to Norfolk State University?” Spencer asked a little dumbfounded. Derek gave him a confused look.

Hotch halted beside the car door, the crease between his brows deepening. “That's where our first victim lived... Reid, are you alright?”

That finally seemed to be the minute Spencer snapped out of it. “Yes,” he said, clearing his throat. “Yes, sorry. I was just making sure. We'll— we'll go now.”

He felt like a thirteen-year-old boy with his first crush. The accelerated heartbeat, the shaky limbs, the sweaty palms. The not knowing what to do and mostly, what Emily always teased him about and what he only recently noticed: his IQ is, in deed, slashed to half when he's attracted to someone.

Spencer had not met Iris yet. But he felt all of those things. Through letters. For the first time in his life he couldn't find a scientific explanation for what he was currently feeling. He hadn’t met her, he hadn't seen her, let alone heard her voice. He's only seen her delicate handwriting with her t's curved at the base and her barely noticeable s's and he was quickly roped to her personality. What Iris shared with him so far, that is.

Spencer studied people for a living. That's a quick way of putting his occupation. He investigated behavior and he entered minds that were just as twisted as the crimes they committed. Some cases stay glued on his brain more than others — it's not like he was able to forget anything, although sometimes he wished he could.

Iris had interested him more than any quantum physics book ever could.

Spencer knows she likes birds. That's one of the first things she shared with him, actually. He also knows that her favorite author is Haruki Murakami and Spencer has read all of her recommendations, he even bought more books besides the ones she mentioned. He knows Iris hates loud noises, clowns and that she takes her coffee black and plain. He knows how much she cares about her students and that she probably loves what she does because of the way she writes about it. He knows that she doesn't believe in magic, but he's determined to change her mind.

To Spencer, Iris was like a book. He had no idea what the cover was like and he had not read the synopsis, but from the first page and on, he decided he wanted to know everything there is to know about the story. He wanted to see if there were small notes at the edges of every page or if there were underlined quotes. He wanted to figure out the mystery before the next chapter arrived, even if the ending might be completely different.

He had come to terms with the fact that he wants to meet her in person for a while now. But Spencer didn't plan when that would happen or if it would happen. He doesn't even know if she would want to meet him.

Now, he was walking into the University she worked at with her letter tucked into his satchel bag as he forced his brain to focus on what was supposed to be focusing on: the case.

"Finally." Emily raised a brow as they walked into the room. According to JJ's message an hour ago, they were talking to the Head of the Biology Department because of a lead on one of the suspects. Hotch and Rossi were speaking with Penelope through the speakerphone in a corner of the room. "Took you long enough."

Spencer shrugged at her jab, pointing at Derek. "I told him, he didn't listen." He was softly shoved in response.

"Shut up, Reid."

"We're waiting for Mark Dawson to come back with a professor who supposedly has some information on Meredith Fitz." JJ clarified before Spencer could question her why they were all reunited in a professor's office. "They're all in class, we don't want to raise too much attention."

"Sorry to keep you all waiting."

A blond man walked into the room with a brunette woman on his trail. He was dressed in a color-coordinated attire, a russet dress shirt with slightly darker khaki pants. A complete contrast with the woman beside him, she wore light blue jeans along with a maroon V-neck sweater vest and a white t-shirt below. Her hair was in a loose bun but some thick curls were falling off. She was tucking them behind her ear constantly.

Spencer noticed she seemed annoyed.

"This is Doctor Valencia, she's our microbiology professor. Meredith is one of her students."

Valencia? As in—

"I can speak for myself." Dr. Valencia said through gritted teeth, shaking hands with every agent. Spencer was too busy sweating like crazy in nervousness to take notice of Emily's and JJ's pointed gaze exchange after the professor's harsh statement towards Professor Dawson. "It's good to meet you, Agents, but I spoke to the police last night, I already gave my formal statement regarding the occurrences of the last week."

The last person to be introduced was him.

He heard something that sounded distinctly like a choked-up sound. He didn't pay much attention until Hotch started conducting questions regarding the case. Because that was what he was focusing on, the case. His hands tingling as she drew hers back, barely giving him a look.

"The FBI?" Iris blinked in surprise. Only now did she seem to really acknowledge everyone in the room. Her shoulders tensed up. "So that wasn't just accidental food poisoning."

"We're investigating that," Hotch said, being vague on purpose. "It came to our knowledge that Meredith Fitz is one of your mentees?"

Iris nodded, running a hand through her face. "Yes, yes, she is. Meredith is, um, completing her master's degree in post-mortem microbiology."

"Does she have access to your lab?"

"All of my students have," Iris said. "We have practical classes." She visibly stiffened. "Is she a suspect?"

“We're looking into it,” Hotch responded.

Iris stepped out of her frozen state, interrupting another question being thrown her away.

“This isn't— This isn't right.” She begun. “Meredith is one of my top students. She's a nice girl, she wouldn't do this.”

Emily nodded sympathetic, “as he said, we are still investigating that information. But we do need to speak with her so that can be clarified.” Before Iris could speak, Mark beat her to it.

“She didn't come to class today, so that won't be possible, will it?” Mark sent a look towards Iris that anyone in the room could read it as a pretty clear insinuation. Iris wasn't paying attention to him, she was lost in her thoughts, gaze focused on a corner of the room.

Spencer was itching to say something, but he stood quiet.

“Neither did Fabian Helley. Another top student of Dr. Valencia here.” He added, leaning back on his desk. “You know, maybe you should investigate this particular pattern.”

Derek let out a sigh. He was done with Dawson's little game. It was clear that the guy was trying to antagonize Iris.

“Sir—”

“Please stop.”

Every eye in the room snapped towards her voice. Iris clutched the back of her arm as if she was trying to give herself some form of grounding. Spencer could see how much she cared for each one of her students. He's read about it, it's all in her letters, but even his coworkers who didn't have that bonus glimpse into her character could tell that.

They could also tell she was greatly bothered by Mark Dawson. And Spencer himself was starting to get bothered by him as well.

“I'll answer your questions and anything else in my office. Is that okay with you?”

Nobody protested against that and Mark stood by his desk, arms crossed much like a petulant child. They followed Iris towards her office while exchanging curious glances. She did answer all of their questions, hesitating slightly whenever the questions were directed towards Meredith Fitz and Fabian Helley, mostly because she did not believe they could have done such a monstrosity as mass poisoning.

“What happened to being a germaphobe, pretty Ricky?” Derek nudged his shoulder, earning a confused look from Spencer. “You shook the professor's hand. Not a single complaint as always.”

“I was being polite.” His cheeks were burning. Did he shake her hand? Thankfully she wasn’t close enough to listen to their conversation.

Derek disguised a chuckle by soft coughing and Spencer glared at him.

"I'd like to apologize about Professor Dawson. He's been on edge ever since all this started." Iris informed as Rossi and Hotch left the room to call Garcia.

"We can see that," Emily smiled reassuringly at her. "If you don't mind me asking, is there a particular reason why he seemed displeased about Fabian Helley?" Iris shifted on her feet and everyone else in the room pretended they were not listening in on the conversation since Emily had approached her in a rather private manner.

Still, Iris did not relent.

"Mark is always displeased by something or someone." It was the last thing she decided to share after pondering to herself.

It wasn't until Hotch came back into the room to send each of them to interview a few other witnesses — except for Spencer, who he requested to start the geographical profile since they had enough cases as of now – that Iris seemed to glance in Spencer's direction.

Dr. Reid, who she shook hands with and didn't even properly notice until now. Iris was generally a perceptive person, she caught things quickly. Though she's having trouble focusing ever since this morning, perks of a bad night's sleep. She blamed that for not realising him sooner, that was the only possible explanation, really. His honey-brown eyes switched to his colleagues as soon as she caught him looking.

Iris’ breath caught in her throat. The Behaviour Analysis Unit is here. Spencer mentioned in one of his letters that he works for the FBI... She truly was slow today, wasn't she?

“Dr. Valencia?”

She snaps out of her daze to stare at a pretty blonde woman in a dark blazer, she wore a blue t-shirt below. Agent Jareau. That's her name.

“Sorry,” Iris cleared her throat, feeling her cheeks heat up at being caught staring at him. She must look like such a creep. “I zoned out. Were you speaking to me?”

She offers her a sympathetic smile before saying, “we don't want to take much of your time. We know you have lectures to teach. Thank you for your patience.”

“No need to thank me, Agent. It's all good.” Just as each of them gave her their farewells, she was stuck in an inner argument about whether or not she should talk to him. It's not appropriate. He didn't even recognize you, wake up.

Not appropriate. Not appropriate. NOT APPROPRIATE.

“Uh, Dr. Reid?” It was barely above a whisper as if she had been scared of saying it too loud. His body turning around fast was the indication she needed that he had heard her. Thankfully, his team was a little further down the hall to notice the small exchange. “Sorry, I don't mean to get in your way—”

She's completely awkward all of a sudden. Iris couldn't grasp her mind that she's been talking to this man for over a month, flirting, trauma bonding and now she couldn’t utter a word without sounding like she didn’t know a word in the English language.

“Is there— is there something you need?” He's kind. He's so kind and his voice is better than she had ever imagined.

All of all the things she could have said, what came out is something else entirely.

“Your hair is shorter.”

Well, fuck, Iris. Congratulations, you have officially made a fool out of yourself!

“I did not intend to say that out loud, I am so so sorry, Spenc— Dr. Reid. I just, I saw a picture of yours because of an article that I read and—”

“Iris.”

“And I—” she froze, watching a smile grow on his lips, which immediately brought warmth to her chest. Somehow, it didn't feel as if he was laughing at her. If he was then it's a beautiful sight to uphold regardless. “Yes?”

“I thought you didn't recognize me.” Spencer bit the inside of his cheek, shifting on his feet. She observed the worn-out sneakers causing her lips to twitch in amusement. One of Iris's assumptions was that Spencer was the kind of guy to wear fancy shoes — it only made sense because of the way he dressed — but that surprised her. At least she’s not the profiler. “You know, we've only been corresponding through letters so I figured you wouldn't...”

Her lips parted in astonishment. “You recognized me?”

His brows furrowed slightly, “yes. Your name is literally on the case file.”

“Oh.”

His eyes softened at her widened eyes as she processed the information. And then his brain pinched him with the fact that that's not how we're supposed to meet. Not because of a case. I'm supposed to invite her for coffee just so I can certify if she actually takes her coffee plain black with barely any sugar on it. Or a library, so we can ramble together about our favourite authors and books.

Not.in.the.middle.of.a.case.

“You probably have a whole file about me, huh?” Her tone was playful and Spencer remembered how he grinned whenever he read her sarcasm through paragraphs of her handwriting. He learned to find Iris's humor through her words. Seeing it displayed right in front of him, full of vivid colors and a voice he tried to imagine for so long what it was like... He's speechless and already addicted to it.

“Our technical analyst probably has.” Spencer croaked out, forcing himself to avert his gaze to his feet instead.

Iris’s eyes acquired a spark of excitement.

“Is that the one with the clingy hugs?”

Spencer let his mouth quirk up on the edges, “yes. That's Penelope.”

“So you know all of my dark secrets before we even share them to each other.” He could hear her playful tone that carried a bit of uncertainty in the end.

“I have no reason to read your file,” Spencer said. Because he didn't. Not unless she was an official suspect. “So no, I don't know about any of your dark secrets.”

“That's good. You won't run for the hills yet.”

“What makes you think I would ever run?”

Their gazes remain on each other for a brief moment until one of them eventually caved and looks away, necks reddening, heartbeat increasing.

“Call me Spencer.” He said, squeezing the strap of his work bag until his fingers turned white. His phone vibrating in his pocket alerted him he'd taken too much time talking and less time working. He didn't want to go. “I-uh, I've read your letter. Just in case you think I've been ignoring you... I haven't. I just haven't had the time to write you back properly.”

Iris tilted her head as she leaned against the wall. “Maybe you don't need to write me back.” What am I doing? She thinks.

He cast her a look of puzzlement before his disappointment could take over, Iris was quick to clarify what she meant.

“Maybe we could talk instead of write.” She added carefully. Confidence wearing thin. “Over coffee? Not today, of course, you're working and I'm working and we wouldn't have time but... It's—It's a stupid idea, isn't it? I'm sorry. Pretend I didn't suggest—”

“I would love to talk instead of write.” Now that I can finally hear your voice, I can stop trying to image what you sounded like through your letters. I don't want to ever stop listening to you.

Iris gave him a look of surprise as if she had been expecting rejection because that just might have been the most out-of-place idea she had. Asking Spencer Reid out on a date while he's in the middle of a case where she works?

“You need to go.” She mused, giving a pointed look at the vibrating cell in his hands.

“As soon as the investigation is over.” He told her after they'd exchanged numbers through their phones. Iris nodded, smiling wildly as he took a few steps back to leave her office but still didn't quite leave.

“As soon as the investigation is over, Dr. Reid.”

Spencer halts, holding onto the doorway as if stopping himself from leaving — or staying. She didn't know which.

“Call me Spencer.” He repeated, grabbing his phone to pick up the call. Slowly, a smile etched its way into her face and his mouth followed the same action.

“Okay, Spencer.”

Spencer nodded, holding in a smile. “I have to go.” I don’t want to.

“Please do. I don't want the FBI locking me up because I held you against your will in my office.” A joke. He liked hearing her jokes instead of reading them. “Be careful.” She requested in a slightly more serious tone, just like she always wrote in her letters addressed to him.

“You too,” he said, taking his time to look at her one last time before he had to sprint off to where Derek required him.

It was very nice seeing you, Iris.

━━━━━━━━━ ✉ ━━━━━━━━━

A/N: hey everyone, welcome to the next phase of SBPP. I'm excited. next chapter you'll have a deeper glimpse into iris' character and some things will come to light. i'd love to read what you guys are thinking of this fic!

taglist: @lilyviolets ; @chayceschultz ; @cultish-corner ; @lover-of-books-and-tea ; @theonecalledrue

#sun-bleached paper petals #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x original character #spencer reid x iris valencia #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #sun-bleached paper petals fic

20 notes · View notes

drinkmoarwater · 1 year

Text

I’m finally done with school so I can participate in Dannymay for the first time :)

Day 17: Temper (ik I’m late but shhhhhh)

Jazz had three options, none of which she liked. She could leave, consider this conversation over, and pummel the punching bag at the gym until she passed out or the employees kicked her out again. She could stay and talk until she came to peaceful resolution with Principal Ishiyama, maybe talk her into a corner to admit that requiring Danny and her to pass a ectoplasm screening before being allowed back in school was a mistake. Principal Ishiyama liked her, it wouldn’t be hard to manipulate her rapport for the benefit of her baby brother. It would take a while, but Jazz could do it.

Or.

Jazz could smile, agree, and then burn the building to the ground on her way out. She had a lipstick blaster in her purse. The classrooms had plenty of flammable material. Books, paper, wooden desks, posters. It wouldn’t take much more than a few seconds of a focused blast and whoosh, a fire. Tucker would erase the camera footage before the police got access to it, if the tapes survived the blaze that is. Jazz wouldn’t even need to call in a favor for it, he’d probably laugh and say he owed her for getting him out of ap world history.

As Ishiyama explained the PTA’s petition to document all student’s ectoplasm exposure to her in slow syllables, Jazz noted that Ishiyama’s desk looked really breakable. One solid kick and Jazz would snap it half. The paper weights might hurt her ankle if they collided, but the desk was made of plastic made to look like wood. She could throw the thing over her head if she wanted, right out the window. Maybe that would be more satisfying, to be forced to use both her hands and hearing the crash. It would at least avoid breaking a heel.

Maybe Jazz should play this smart. Ask for the signatures on that petition. Write down their addresses. Take her time the next time a ghost attack wanders down their street. Shoot their mailboxes and say she has terrible aim. Steal their dogs and raise them as her own. Maybe that one’s a step too far.

Instead, Jazz bites the inside of her cheek. Option two was worth a try. “And why isn’t every student required to take a physical examination?”

Ishiyama sighed. “Not every student has been so thoroughly exposed to ectoplasm as those that have passed through your house. It’s a safety issue, one that I’m sure you understand, Jazz.”

“I don’t understand. Explain it to me again.”

“It’s a simple screening. It’s noninvasive, just a swab and a stroll through the ectoplasm detectors your parents invented. You’ll be fine. Your brother will be fine. What is it you don’t understand?”

Jazz pushed her toes into the soles of her shoes hard enough for it to be uncomfortable but unnoticeable. “An ectoplasm screening is not standard school policy. We live in the most haunted city in the country, don’t you think every student has some ectoplasm exposure?”

“If they do, it’s not enough to become a problem.” Ishiyama pulled out a file and flipped through its pages. “Thirty-six broken beakers, forty-two detentions, nine unexcused absences, and a letter of concern from one of your brother’s teachers. His grades aren’t pretty and he’s said to fall asleep in class more often than not.” Ishiyama took breaks from her reading out the files to make hard eye contact. “You have five unexcused absences, a significant jump from someone who had perfect attendance for three years straight, and three of your teachers have reached out to me about your jumpiness and sudden lack of participation.”

“Your point? These are behavioral issues, not physiological ones.”

“My point is that the petition mentioned the two of you by name, and your files give me good reason to listen.”

Taking a deep breath, Jazz let the silence hang for a moment. She put on her best I’m-thinking-very-hard face, an exaggerated pout with scrunched eyebrows. She bounced her leg, a false tell. She didn’t mention that it was wrong, manipulative even to have this conversation without her brother or parents in the room. She didn’t ask what would be done with their information if they submitted to the screening, or what they were expected to do if they didn’t pass, or which staff members signed. She didn’t take Ishiyama’s school district issued pen and blind her with it. Jazz didn’t do a lot of things that she could have, or maybe should have.

She half listened to Ishiyama’s justifications, comparing the screening to vaccinations and flu shots. She stayed quiet, nodding when expected and making unflinching eye contact. Ishiyama had one tell, to her credit. She hesitated over the flowery language of the petition, like she wanted to say “ghost” instead of “ectoplasmic entities and substances.” Jazz daydreamed about keying Ishiyama’s bright blue volkswagen in her assigned parking spot, carving a cartoonish ghost into the paint.

Jazz left the meeting with her shoulders back and her chin tilted downward. She was making a plan. She had many more options than what she first thought.

#dannymay2023 #day 17: temper #jazz fenton #liminal jazz #not plot relevant but know that jazz is real tall #projecting onto jazz rn as a trans person in a hostile state #double projection with the intrusive thoughts that she's lowkey taking srsly lol

86 notes · View notes

helloabominacion · 1 year

Text

𝙄𝙣 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙈𝙞𝙙𝙙𝙡𝙚 𝙊𝙛 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙉𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 ....

pairing: Human!namor x (f!mexican)reader

word count: 5718

warnings: eighteen+ content, a few non-con themes ( but no rape ), nicotine, alcohol, mention of a slur

note: ok, so this man has me on a choke hold, so i wanted to add my little piece of cake to all the wonderful namor x reader fics. this is more like a plot with three chapters, but there will be spicy moments in the next chapter.... also it's been a while i've post a fic so, critics? im up for it. ASLO, all the translation except the spanish ones are inacurate, if you see a mistake, let me know! and in this fic, nobody has powers, no avengers nothing like that, just kinda dosmetic, i guess?

hope you enjoy it!

— 🌙🌙🌙 —

Your promises to your mother about not going overboard with your delight on this field trip that your prestigious college had paid for went down the drain just like the contents your stomach expels into the club's pristine porcelain bathroom. This vacation was the ideal justification for the students to blow off steam and unwind after a semester of extended essays and unbearable exams. But, of course, they deserved this beautiful opportunity! But you didn't earn the embarrassment of vomiting in front of the toilet.

“Que pinche suerte tengo, at least these bathrooms are clean...” The misty feeling of nausea still lingered in your mind, and you kept inhaling long breaths to appease your poor stomach. The rumble of cumbia and bachata mix tunes runs through your entire body, muffled by the bathroom walls.

After several minutes of listening to your body and being entirely sure that nothing else will come out of your throat, you left the cubicle with careful steps, the alcohol still circulating your blood. Your hands rested on the sink to support you and began to inspect your reflection in the illuminated mirror, making sure your beautiful hair looked decent. Still, a frown fell on your brows as you noticed you needed a retouch your makeup quickly.

There's no way in hell you'll let half of your classmates see you in this mess. What would Riri think? After all that time, they wasted watching tutorials on how to do your makeup instead of finishing the due essays. ( and by the way, you did finish that essay, you only need three red bulls.) You blinked owlishly as your drunk mind realized something; you forgot to notify your bestie! It must have slipped your mind while rushing to the bathroom. Then, quickly pulling out your smartphone from your purse, a surprised grimace pulls your red lips at the five lost calls and 12 messages.

You were already cursing in your native language while reading Riri's angry messages, and you knew the black girl would chew your ass out instantly for leaving her all alone. Well, technically, she's not all by herself; it was a miracle how Riri's plan was a success sneaking the princess into their flight directly a Mexico, Yucatan.

But you knew it was the worst idea your intelligent roommate agreed on, and you can't practically say no to Shuri.

And you dote on Shuri like she was your older sister who just wanted to have fun and create unforgettable memories with her loved ones, but the thought of Auntie Ramonda finding out about this tormented you sometimes. You only visit the Udaku residence occasionally because you are always busy studying. The other excuse was Ramonda's regal and elegant presence overwhelmed you; it was how she could look at you for the first time with those sharp eyes and discover your most embarrassing secrets. You jerked your head as the shiver ran down your shoulders; that's not going to happen! You'd faith in the plan, but only because they got some assistance from Shuri's older brother.

"T'challa eres un angel caido! Thank you so much for this!" Your hands made a prayerful gesture, showing how grateful you were for this great opportunity; then, you huffed sharply. Now it's time to continue putting on your makeup war because you know damn well there will be attractive and captivating individuals, and perhaps you might steal someone for yourself tonight. Who knows what could happen, and you're excited to find out. While you were fixing your makeup, you looked sideways at your smartphone and then paused at the last message you received from Riri, your eyes narrowed at the change of image on your screen. Riri was calling you, and you answered right away.

"Oye, ¿que paso?"

The shout of your name made you wince, but you kept the phone close to your ear. "CONCHA! Where the fuck are you!?"

"Wh-what do you mean where I'm? In the bathroom bitch, didn't I send you a text!?"

"Bruh! I thought you meant in the hotel's room bathroom!"

You rolled your eyes while snorting. Riri was a bit under the influence of so many Mezcal shots. "Pendeja, as if I'm going to walk like twenty blocks to go over there!"

"Fuck, okay, okay, don't worry! Let me get my key card, and I'm going to get -- wait, Shuri, stop!"

You waited for Riri to finish talking to her girlfriend. Then, finally finishing your makeup, you started packing your belongings into your purse.

“Conchita, you still there?”

“Si mensa, it’s Shuri fine thought? I can hear her laughing and shrieking.” You mused, chuckling t the frustrated groan from Riri. “Is that the reason you left me, Riri? Wanted to spend some sweet time with your princess?”

“Shut up you! Nothing like that! I had to bring her back cuz she wanted to beat someone!”

“Why?”

“These two Dwayne Johnson-looking ass bumped into me, spilling my amazing drink. They didn’t wanna apologize, so Shuri was about to throw hands with them.”

A thunderous laugh burst from your mouth, your melodious laughter filling the bathroom. You already imagined Riri's annoyed face as you cackled like a crazy bird. You place a hand on your stomach, and tiny tears prickle the corner of your eyes for laughing too much. You panted and coughed a little in an attempt to catch your breath.

“Oh my god, that’s so her, I would’ve paid to see that,”

Riri sucked her teeth but you knew there was an amusing hint behind her tone. “But Conchita, girl, I can’t leave you all by yourself! It’s dangerous, man, what if you get lost?”

“Ay, don’t worry about me, chula! Some other students are here, asi que me voy colar con ellos.” You snicker to yourself; the tequila is getting to your brain currently. “Besides, you will have the suite all to yourself,”

BEEP!

Pulling the phone away from your ear to see that Riri hung up on you.

"Que mamona, ni siquiera me dijo adios."

A creak from the door distracted you from your angry text, and a group of girls with drinks in their manicured hands entered. The second their eyes fell on you, their drunken mouths began to shower you with compliments on your hair and dress and how they loved how your heels accentuated your ass. The comments made butterflies flutter inside your stomach, and a hot wave crept on your face. You weren't used to people throwing compliments at you. A year ago, you would've shied away and possibly left the restroom with a hot shame face, but thanks to Riri's incredible support and friendship. You began to lose yourself.

Life's too short to be quiet.

With a flamboyant twirl of your body, the girls squealed happily and quickly swarmed you with questions about drinking more mezcal shots with them and exchanging phone numbers and socials. Oh yeah, this was going to be a special night.

FOUR HOURS LATER

Your heart began to fall in love with this magical city, Cancun. Its streets are still busy with locals visiting the stalls and tourists who come from all over the world to taste the exquisite meals, learn about the Yucatecan culture and enjoy the heat that touches your skin. Shot after shot and dancing uncontrollably to the music, you, unfortunately, had to separate from the new friends you made, promising to call them and make sure you'll get safely to your hotel. You took another bite of your vegetable on a stick, wiping the cream off with your tongue because you forgot to ask for a napkin. The warm air from the night brushed your shoulders and naked legs, and the waves crashing over and over against the sand sounded so captivating to you that the idea of sitting in front of the ocean to contemplate your life was so tempting.

“Hey!”

A loud shout made you stumble mid-step but quickly recovered, whipping your head behind you to see what it was and a cold sensation — dread — washed over you. Your stomach dropped right at your feet at the sight of three grown men approaching you, it seemed like there was a ten-meter stretch between you and them, but that didn't alleviate the fact that you were alone in a not-so-traveled area, and you just noticed that. Mierda, mierda, mierda! You conjure up a tight smile, your chest tightens when you breathe slightly, and a knot forms in the back of your throat. This is not happening now, not tonight please, but what you expected from reality?

“Hey, mami, where are you going?”

An eyebrow twitch while holding a frown, of course they are from the states,

“I’m ‒ I’m just taking a stroll …”

“A stroll, huh? All by yourself?” One of them questioned, no good intentions behind that smirk. Before you could open your mouth, your mothers’ words flashed through your mind. Never tell a stranger that you are alone, make them think that someone is waiting for you.

“No, no at all!” ah shit that was too fast. “I’m just going to back to someone,”

“Oh, you have friends? Maybe we can some fun together.”

“Sounds good to me, the more the merrier.”

Their cruel cackles disgusted your stomach but kept the tight smile on. Your conscious was yelling to run, to run far away and quick, but you knew you could be outrun easily.

" I'm s-sorry but my family is waiting for me. I - I have to go..."

They began to approach you with steady steps.

"Aw come on, sweetheart, have a little fun with us,"

“Yeah, loose a little with us, we can show you a good time.”

Oh, you can't do this, you were trembling with uneasiness, and your eyes burned with the urge to cry. You once again shook your head, refusing their unwanted invitation, and spun around, walking away from the trio. But your polite nature didn't stop them and they chose to follow you, taunting you and catcalling. You completely forgot the corn in a stick, and you increased the pace of your step, your heart ached from thumping so much that you believed you were going to have a panic episode.

Please, I want to wake up from this nightmare, por favor mama, ayudanme por favor.

Your bare feet led you to where it was busy, where you might have a chance to hide and be secure. Of course, you didn't know the streets and didn't have the remotest idea of where you were going, but your feet kept moving; instinct pushed the idea to run until you were secure. You didn't dare to look over your shoulder to check if they followed you; you weren't sure. So, you turned left, entering the streets of Cancun where the neighborhood was, you slipped through the streets, getting lost in the crowd, you stumbled a few times because of the poorly made road, with its potholes and high steps, but your bare feet roared in discomfort from walking on the asphalt, you need to take a breather because you were about to throw up your lungs.

You ended up in an alley between a cheap motel and an old bar, leaning against the painted wall of the motel. Inhaling deeply through your nose to catch your breath and maybe find out where the hell you were. You pulled your smartphone out of your purse and whined in frustration, a small red bar to the left glowing annoyingly. Remind you only have a little time. You had to call an Uber and take you back to Riri and Shuri; you had enough scares in your life.

“Hi, mamacita!”

A shriek escaped you, but the rest was cut off by a hand that covered your mouth, an arm crossed over your shoulders, catching you in an iron grip. Fear strikes your stomach, accelerating your heart. You thought your eardrums were going to burst!

“What? You thought you could run away, Chiquita?”

“We’re gonna have some fun, right sweetheart?”

Your cell phone slapped from your grasp, and your right arm was crossed behind your back, wincing at the pain blooming on your right shoulder. But your muffled whining wasn't going to get listened to as you thrashed around as soon a pair of hands pulled the hem of your dress and, little by little, got dangerously close to your crotch.

No matter the shameful and desperate tears streaming down your cheeks, it didn't convince the assailants cackling, mocking you. Whispering disgusting things about what they are going to do with you. You still thrashed and pulled away from their degenerate touches.

If no one will rescue you, that doesn't mean you're going to give in, and you are not giving up without a fight.

BAM!

All attention was drawn to the emergency exit door opening fully, letting out an individual. Confusion invaded you, dumbfounded by the person's attention deficiency, focused on his pack of cigarettes. With an enraged thrash and whining loud enough to get the awareness of the man in front of you, and you could almost laugh right there, it did get his attention.

“Oh, good evening.” So casually, he spoke, making you scowl, stunned. He must joking este cabron! Is he for real!?

The leader of three-step forward trying to be intimidating, but you knew something was off about this guy.

"You got a staring problem, amigo? Just walk away, bud'"

He has yet to move from his position, not even to face them and you, fiddling with his box of cigarettes. An amused smirk pulled his lips, showing a white smile, and he began to saunter towards the leader.

“I could do that, but I’ve seen each one of your faces.” He spoke, enfacing his word as he pointed at your three assailants and returned his attention to the leader. “I could walk away and easily go to the authorities and deport you out of my country….”

The way the strange man threatened them with such confidence and casualness seemed to affect them. The guy who had your dress released it, taking a step back from you, and the other one holding you from the shoulders loosened his grasp. It looked like they were going to either run or prepare to fight. You had no idea!

"Or I can fuck up each and one of you,” The smirk fell to an intense smoldering. “Teach you a lesson for being a scum. How about that option for you, gringo de mierda?”

“Listen here, you fucking wetback loser—!”

You blinked, and the stranger swung a punch at the aggressor. The other two let you go to back up his buddy, the one holding you shoved you against the floor, harming your wrists for cushioning your fall. The quarrel started, but you were focused on putting yourself together while they were beating each other asses. Stumbling and fumbling, you got up your feet, scrambling away from them and hiding quickly behind a full dumpster, observing the fight from afar and letting out a shaky exhale, thankful that your savior appeared on time, but you were now you not sure if he was a ' good ' savior.

His punches were brutal, wasting no second to unleash another strike on your assailant’s face. His powerful kicks looked like they were going to leave a mark of his shoe on their bodies, and despite his complex, he was swift. Effortlessly dodging the pathetic attempts of the others, even though there were three of them, it seemed like your savior surpassed them in all dynamics.

“U sojol, ma' le wíiniko'ob jaaj…” He spits on them with a sneer as he walks away from the fainted men, making sure he steps on each body and wander towards you. Now you could appreciate it in more detail when he approached you as you stepped away from the dumpster, shortening the space between you and him. His skin color was so beautiful that you'd bet if the rays of sunset illuminated him, he would look so handsome that it'll make you faint.

Short and unraveling raven hair due to the altercation, but what captivated you was his steely gaze that seemed to inspect every detail of your features. His facial hair covered his sharp chin, accompanied by a mustache above his lip. Then your eyes drop and widen, at what point did his shirt come open? Leaving his torso exposed, and even though his body didn't look like an Adonis, you bet if you caressed his chest, it would be solid rock.

“Do you have a lighter?”

His question shook from your gawking, “¿Que?”

Your intelligent answer seemed to irritate your savior, raising an eyebrow he questions again. “Do you have a lighter?”

“I – I do, but I think it’s my …” you didn’t smoke, but it was for Riri. “In m - my purse.”

Your savior deadpanned at you, and an uncomfortable silence fell between you, giving you an unsettling feeling until he nodded behind him. As if he was saying, " then go get it, girl"

You caught the small order and headed towards your forgotten purse, a little close to the fallen bodies, you glimpsed at them asking yourself if they were alive, but you scowl, they deserved it and snatched your purse. Returning to your savior with a lighter in your open palm.

"Here you go,"

" Can you light it up? My hands are shaking a bit bruised,"

You gulp, and you weren't even subtle about it. His accent was heavy and extremely hot. Get it together girl, he just saved you but damn stranger danger! A cigarette was already on his lips, ready to consume, and you slightly nodded. Great, this is just fantastic. You accommodated the lighter in your hand and got closer to him since you realized he was a little taller than you. Only a few inches, but you bet you could get there in your heels.

Your hands are trembling, and the igniter doesn't seem to work when you try to start it the third time.

“Wait, stay still, you are shaking too much,”

Your cheeks burned up, and every hair on your arms stood up when a shiver went through you, but there wasn't a cold draft, not with this hot weather as his rough hands engulfed yours, steading your right hand as you once again ignited the lighter and voilà, a small flame appear. The tip of the nicotine stick ignited with just a few puffs of his mouth. He exhaled a gust of smoke, invading your space as it floated away. You maintained the man's gaze for a few beats but then blushed awkwardly, you snatched your hand out of his grasp. You didn't know what you would do if he kept looking that way. His hooded gaze was causing your lower belly to get warmer, as well as something else.

He straightened up, removing the stick from his lips. " So, what did you do to piss them off?"

"I didn't do anything." A slight frown pulls your brows.

“Okay,” Your savior looked at you up and down, your scowl frowning even more.

“You don’t believe me?”

“I didn’t say anything, where’s your hotel?”

“What?”

He raises his eyebrow and smirk amused. ´” What is not an answer, where’s your hotel? I’m going to walk you there.”

As if you’re going to reveal your temporary location - “It’s the Hyatt Zilara Cancun, that’s my hotel.” Ah shit.

Your savior remains silent for a few seconds as if he was remembering something, and then he nodded. He started strolling to the opposite street of the alley. “Okay, vamonos, your hotel is a bit far, but we will make it in twenty minutes.”

“Wha-? Wait, wait so you’re just going to take me there, just like that?” He glanced over his shoulder and nodded, looking at you as if wasn’t that obvious. He wasn’t giving explanations as to why he was helping you. Something fishy is up. “But – but I don’t even know your name!”

He pauses and turns towards you, the wheels in his mind were grinding on how to answer your answer, and he gave a confident smile. “My family calls me K’uk’ulkan, but a different kind of people call me Namor.”

You hid the fact that you could finally give your handsome, shady savior a name, but you still continue with your interrogation. “And what can kind of people are those?”

“My enemies.”

“Oh,”

Namor chuckled at the pale shade on your face, “I understand you are suspicious towards me, but if I wanted you to get hurt, I would’ve turned away.” Your jaw clenches at Namor's words, a heavy insecurity you sense in your throat, and then fades away at his changed response with a mischievous smirk on his attractive face. “But that would never happen since I'm not a man like them.”

“Que chistosito cabron…” You muttered under your breath as you went to collect your heels and return to him. Waiting for him to start leading, but he seemed too busy watching your gestures. “What? Is there cream on my face??”

Namor tilted his head at you. "What's your name?"

You chewed your tongue before you blurt out your real name, savior or not. You still couldn't trust him 101%. Not until you were sure he wasn't a serial killer or worst.

“Conchita.”

Namor repeated the name, unsure if he was listening correctly.

“Sipi, Conchita, that’s my name. Don’t pronounce too much it loses its charm.”

The smile that revealed his white teeth turned your stomach into butterflies, chuckling slightly at your humor. Namor steps to your side and puts out his arm for you to grab. " After you, my lady."

“You’re the one who’s showing me, Menso.” You snorted but linked your arms anyway.

Namor chuckled and shook his head, “U ch'úupalo' ya'abtal jela'an.”

And he started to move, letting him take you through the streets of Cancun. But remember, you are only using Namor’s knowledge to bring you safely to your hotel, nothing more and nothing less.

↼ TEN MINUTES LATER ⇁

All your questions were ignored or answered with another question. When you began to have confidence in asking personal stuff, Namor would avoid it, always turning everything about you. You even thought that he was getting bored with all your personal life that you were oversharing.

But nothing like that; Namor would interrupt you for a second, only to cross a busy street, then he would ask you to continue with your childhood memories from Mexico when you visited with your mother. But you wanted so badly to know about Namor. Where did he work at? What was his favorite scent? Did he have a wife/girlfriend? Did he live alone? So many questions! He lived with two close cousins and was born and raised in Yucatan. At least, that is not bad to know about him.

You let out a loud yawn while Namor was telling a story about how he and his cousins were diving in cenotes, you didn't mean to be rude, but your exhausted body was at its limits. With sore feet and a wholly drained mind, it sounded tempting to fall asleep on the sand.

“Is my story that boring, In ch'ujuk lool? “

You offered him a giggly smile, but you were slowing down, your brain demanding rest, but you kept ambling while resting your head on Namor's shoulder. " No, nothing like that. I'm just exhausted."

" Ah, in that case, you no longer have to worry, see that? "

Your eyes went up and then watered a little. The sight of your hotel illuminated in all its glory seemed like a miracle straight from heaven. You ignored the pleas of your feet. You pushed a bit more until you finally faced the stairs leading to the hotel's lobby. Desolate was the hotel from the outside, but you knew there were still staff members inside. Namor's warmth was lulling you away while you were holding onto his big bicep as if they were a pillow.

Namor untangled his arm from yours and then took your hand in his grasp, “Well, here ends our little adventure.”

“What?”

“We finally made it.”

“Oh, yeah right.” Ay no, you didn’t want this to end, it’s too soon to say goodbye! “So, this is goodbye.”

“Indeed, it is, In lool.” Namor brough your hand to his mouth, brushing his lips to your knuckle and you were about melt right there if it wasn’t for his deep rich voice. “It was nice meeting you, despite the events of tonight.”

“It was nice meeting you too, Namor, and I know you already hate hearing me say but thank you so much for saving me. I mean, you didn’t have to do that….” Your voice cracks a bit. Oh boy, you really need to rest and be in the arm of your dearest girlfriends. You feel you were about a break in front of Namor.

Namor goes for your other hand and holds them to his chest, pulling you towards him as he stares you down with deep brown eyes. “No, no, I had to in ki'ichpam nikte'. No one deserves that type of violation on their person and less someone like you.”

The caress with his knuckles on your cheek was your breaking point. Leaning just a bit closer to his space, your nostrils were filled with Namor's cologne, salt sea water, and nicotine. And Namor was drinking every detail of your features, every mole, and the tiny scar he could find on your plump cheeks that he could kiss, observing how your stunning ( c / e ) eyes shone with the light of the tall lamp posts. They were practically glowing for him.

His nose was grazing yours closely, hot breaths mixing, and Namor could end this intense hunger to kiss you until he stole your breath, but he noticed how you shivered and that glazed look in your eyes. You're still shaken from the event in the alley.

And when you were about to cut the space between your lips and his, but logic slapped you to come to your senses, and backed away.

“Namor, can I borrow your phone?”

He blinked confused for a second but responded. “What for?”

“Well, before you came one of the guys slapped my phone away. Oh, I didn’t event grabbed it." You winced at your forgetfulness and shrugged anyway. “Meh, I’m due to upgrade and all my photos are in the cloud.” That didn’t answer Namor’s question. “I mean, I need to text my friend so she can come out…”

Namor blinked twice and huffed amusedly, he nodded and fish out his smartphone from his pocket. “Here you go.”

“Thank you,”

Reluctantly you released his hands to punch Riri's number on the phone. No calls. You didn't have the energy to speak everything through the device, so you sent two messages straight to the point. Hoping Riri wouldn't call this phone, you turned towards Namor, offering his phone back with a quiet thank you. Namor reached for his phone, but he didn't miss the opportunity for his fingers to caress yours as he grabbed the device.

You sent him a look when he put his phone away. You were not mad at Namor but at how the fuck this man affected you emotionally and physically.

“So, do you wish to go inside the lobby, and we can wait for your friend?”

You glared at Namor for a second then you glanced at the ten long stairs leading to the hotel lobby, and then back to the handsome shady savior. It’s not worth it, it ain’t worth moving your sore feet from your spot.

“I mean, we could stay outside here. I don’t mind sitting on the hard stairs while waiting in the suffocating heat for my friend….” Oh god, it was the warm weather, too warm for your tastes, you felt the sweat growing in the back of your dress. Namor licked his lips as he smiled at you, shaking his head amusedly by your rant, but he had an easy plan to fix that.

“Hey, yan my ch'ujuk concha, I think there’s a peacock behind you,” A malice glint flashed through his brown eyes.

Your mistake was twisting your neck, you pouted at the lack of the pretty feather birds, and before you could confront Namor, a squeal left your mouth as a pair of solid arms sneaked under your knees and waist. Your arms encircled Namor's broad shoulders to support, and shame began to heat your head. He didn't seem to shake as he went up the stairs with you in his arms, and being this close to his personal space was a bonus point, but you weren't going to let him know that.

“Eres un pinche cabron, pero si no fueras tan chulo te hubiera pegado…” You mumble under your breath, not making eye contact with him as he tries to search for you with a smug smirk.

“If you don’t tell me what that means, I will drop you.”

“It’s nothing, nada!” You replied quickly, earning a loud chuckled as you tighten your grip around his shoulders. You cling to him like a cat not wanting to get in the water tub.

“You should’ve told me your feet were hurting, In chan lool .” Namor chided near your ear. “And I told you so for not wearing your high heels.”

“So, my blisters can have blisters? HA! No thank you sir.”

The hotel doors were opened with the help of one of the workers when they glimpsed you from the counter. Namor nodded gratefully for the aid and went to the waiting area. He gently dropped you onto the expensive sofa and sat beside you. A heavy yawn broke out from you, covering your mouth with the palm of your hand. Then you glance at Namor with a hooded gaze, not hiding the fact you are about to fall asleep on this expensive couch with him, and beam tiredly at him, who was observing you with endearment or boredom. You couldn't tell.

“Are you tired, Ba'ax táan a cansada, in jela'an lool?”

“You know it’s not veery nice of you to say those things in your awesome language with your hot accent and voice…” You leaned into him; his arm dropped on your shoulders. Namor was smiling at your slurred words and your accent slipping sometimes.

“And why it’s not nice?”

“Because! I can’t understand shit and it juuust driving crazy what are you saying.”

“I’ll tell you what those words meant if you give me your real name….” Namor leaned down, brushing the bridge of your nose with his, making you aware of the position. That hot sensation returned with more fervor in your stomach and your intimate parts. Your hand ended up in Namor's abdomen, feeling his warmth and his muscles flex a little. You could finish all this. You can satisfy your hunger and end your desire with just one kiss.

“My real name…?”

“Yes, In yakunaj, only your name.”

You frowned annoyed again by the words, no ideas whatsoever. You brush the tip of your nose against his, almost like an eskimo kiss. Your heart was pumping blood through your eardrums, your body buzzing with heat as you nestled against his. You bet he could hear your poor heart hammering loudly.

“I don’t understand any of that, how do you even pronounce it,”

Namor smirked, eyes focused on your half-open lips. “Do you want me to show you?”

YES, PLEASE, DO IT!

Your mind screamed, but you nodded weakly. You desired those lips to burn and mark you, and you wanted them on top of you in any way possible.

Namor smiled smugly, showing few of his teeth while connecting his forehead with yours. “I need you to hear your words in jela'an floor.”

“CONCHA, WHERE ARE YOU MY GIRL?”

Shuri's thunderous shout echoed through the empty lobby, you and Namor wince, backing away from each other as your attention landed on Shuri stepping out of the elevator with stumbling steps. You stood up from your seat, ignoring the sharp pain in your feet, and headed to Shuri with open arms.

“Conchita, where’ve you been?” Shuri’s tone scolded. “Twenty-five calls, fifty text messages, and nothing! What happened to you?”

You didn't reply away, mind already clouding with exhaustion, relief surrounded you when Shuri engulfed you with her long arms.

“It’s – it’s a long story, Namor brought me here because I had no idea where I was-”

“Who?”

“The guy right behind me, isn’t he cute?”

Shuri glanced behind you then look you up and down, “ Conchita, what kind of ecstacy have you taken?”

“Uhm no?”

“Then what man are you talking about?”

You whipped your head behind you and indeed, the lobby was vacant. The couch where you left Namor was empty, and a wrenching feeling twisted your gust, disappointed in yourself for not going for the kiss. And the urges of crying took you over.

“I – I didn’t even get to kiss him,.”

Shuri cooed as she hugged you when your shoulders were shaking. “oh sisi wam omncinci othandekayo,, come on, let us go back to Riri and you can explain us...”

You let out a frail yeah while Shuri led you to the elevator and ignored the staff member approaching you with your heels and purse. So yeah, although the nightmare was over, your precious dream ended terribly. But who knows? You might see him again; you wonder to yourself. Just a little feeling that you would see Namor again, and this time, your tired mind promised to steal a kiss from him.

transations:

Que pinche suerte tengo ⇀ how fucking lucky I'm

eres un angel caido ⇀ you're a fallen angel

Oye, ¿que paso? ⇀ hey, what happened?

pendeja ⇀ bitch

chula, asi que me voy a colar con ellas ⇀ sweetie , i'm going to be with them

Que mamona, ni siquiera me dijo adios.⇀ What a bitch , he didn't even say goodbye to me.

U sojol, ma' le wíiniko'ob jaaj ⇀ you're a piece of scum, you are not men.

U ch'úupalo' ya'abtal jela'an. ⇀ what a curious girl you are.

In ch'ujuk lool? ⇀ My sweet flower

In lool ⇀ my flower.

in ki'ichpam nikte' ⇀ my beautiful flower

yan my ch'ujuk concha ⇀ oh my sweet concha

Eres un pinche cabron, pero si no fueras tan chulo te hubiera pegado… ⇀ You're a fucking bastard, but if you weren't so handsome would have hit you.

In chan lool ⇀ my little flower

Ba'ax táan a cansada, in jela'an lool? ⇀ Are you tired, my rare flower?

In yakunaj ⇀ my flower

oh sisi wam omncinci othandekayo, ⇀ oh my dear little sister,

#Namor #Tenoch Huerta #namor x reader #reader #namor x you #namor fanfiction #namor imagine #black panther wakanda forever

343 notes · View notes