#yes this is that one fuckin poster that's up in every classroom
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Proper language in the Grizzco workplace
#splatoon#splat3#splatoon 3#salmon run#splatoon salmon run#salmon run next wave#splatoon shitpost#splatoon big run#big run#grizzco#yes this is that one fuckin poster that's up in every classroom#we've all seen it#suicide mention#suicide ment
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𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 (𝐩𝐭 𝟐)
chemistry first period wasn’t ideal but when was school ever? the teacher was already at the front of the class and you, at the very back where you felt you belonged. restless, you decided to stay standing at the long desk while the teacher marked up the board with today’s objectives.
a boy took a seat beside you and you recognized him as one of issei’s friends, oikawa. “is this place taken?” he asked politely.
“yes,” you responded and he quirked a brow which prompted you to smile. “by you, of course.”
“lame,” oikawa chuckled, shaking his head but he returned your smile and you directed your attention back towards the teacher. issei walked in a few minutes late and apologized profusely to the teacher, bowing down 90 degrees too for added effect. you smiled to yourself while the teacher accepted it and let issei into the classroom. he was always the teacher’s favorite.
“have you been paying attention?” issei asked you, tossing his bag to the floor and dropping down onto the seat next to oikawa -- it was your seat but you had favored standing up for the lesson.
“uh, yeah,” you said.
“good,” issei replied breathlessly, his gaze falling over the shape of your ass over your skirt. “keep paying attention, i want you as my partner for the practical.” you jolted upright completely as one of his cold hands gripped your thigh and squeezed it.
you scribbled down your notes furiously, trying to ignore the feeling of issei’s hand inching up your thigh and then your heart leaping into your throat when his knuckles brushed up against your underwear.
“issei,” you said through a clenched jaw.
“whatttt... i can’t have some fun?” he asked quietly, pulling his hand out of your skirt and reaching up to run it through your hair, fingers curling and tugging lightly. “come on, the teacher’s talking, y/n... be a good girl and listen.”
you bit your lip. “quit playing with me, then...”
“who’s playing...? certainly not me,” issei chuckled, roughly pulling at your hair in his fist and pressed his mouth against your lower back. you choked back a moan and used your free hand to shove him backwards as they teacher gazed skeptically at the two of you while talking.
“are you fucking serious, mattsun... right now?” asked oikawa with a grimace. you lowered your head into your notebook.
“what? you want some?” said issei, pushing your skirt up your legs to give his friend a view of your ass. you gasped, yanking your skirt down as issei laughed quietly, heat spreading across your face.
oikawa sighed, shaking his head as he turned back to teacher. “i fucking hate you.”
***
“hey issei, could you please help me with this calculus assignment?” you asked, holding the phone towards you.
“yeah,” came issei’s cracked voice on the speaker. “which question?” you tapped your pen nervously on the paper.
“it’s actually... kind of... the whole thing.”
issei chuckled and you could practically see him shaking his head in amusement. “alright fine, let’s do a video call. but I better get paid 30 bucks for this.” smiling gratefully, you clicked on the camera icon and issei’s face popped up on your screen, a pair of large headphones around his neck.
“oh, sorry. were you doing something?” you asked.
“no, don’t worry— i’m waiting for people to come online,” he assured you and you nodded, flipping the camera to show him your homework. “ahhhh i got stuck here too but it’s actually pretty easy, look...”
with a bit of guidance from issei, your confusion had been cleared and you were pretty confident that you’d be able to complete the rest of the assignment on your own.
“thanks so much,” you said, turning the camera back to your face once again. “i’ll pay you at school, alright?”
“aw babe, i was kidding,” issei laughed, sliding the headphones back over his ears. “i’m happy to help.” your heart fluttered as issei propped the phone up on his table and grabbed his controller before turning back to his computer screen. you decided to continue working on the assignment, scribbling down the answers you were sure of this time but every now and then your gaze would shift to issei — the way his eyes were glued to the screen, his fingers moving briskly on his controller, the way he was slouched on his gaming chair.
you breathed in deeply. “issei, i can’t focus— I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?” you said, reaching for your phone.
“no, no, y/n, don’t go,” issei responded, glancing at you every other second as he was trying not to lose. “you’re so pretty, i want to talk to you.”
“issei,” you grumbled, rolling your eyes. he always knew what to say so sweetly to bring you back to him. “it’s not like you’re even talking to me, you’re on your game the whole time.”
“okay, i’ll exit the game,” issei said quickly and then spoke into his mic. “guys, i gotta go, my bitch mom is on my ass.” you raised your brow and watched issei tug his headphones off and toss them to the side before rolling around in his chair to face you. “see, i’m all yours.”
“your ‘bitch mom’?” you said and issei laughed.
“i’m sorry, i had to give them a good excuse.”
you giggled, carrying your phone over to your bed and lying down, holding the phone above your face. “i’m not a good enough excuse?” you asked, aware of the flirtatious tone of your voice.
“mm, you’re the best excuse,” issei rambled with a grin. “i like the view.” you smiled, flattered knowing his gaze had been drawn to the low collar of your shirt almost immediately. you flipped over onto your stomach, giving him a better look into your shirt, your breasts pressed together by your elbows.
“what view?” you teased.
“wowwww, y/n... putting on a nice show for me?”
in hindsight you would’ve been disappointed in yourself for behaving this way. issei wasn’t interested in talking to you on the phone, you knew this. but there was something about him, his face, his voice, the way he acted — you couldn’t quite put your finger on it — that made you crave his validation like no one else. you wanted him to crave you like no one else.
“no, stay like that... just like that,” said issei, teeth clamped over his bottom lip.
“like this?” you asked.
“oh fuck, y/n...”
you blushed, watching his arms move under the table and you were sure he was unbuttoning his pants. he reached for his phone and it shook almost violently.
“a-are you screenshotting?”
“yeahhh... why wouldn’t i? you’re so fuckin’ hot, like” issei breathed, watching you as his arm moved slowly between his legs.
“issei...” you whispered.
“don’t be embarrassed — you’re beautiful,” he said. “i think your body’s perfect — you’d look so good under me — or on top, riding my cock while i watch your cute tits bounce.” there was a sickening flutter in the pit of your stomach and you swallowed hard, staring at issei’s facial expressions and letting the sound of his soft groans shoot right through you, making you squeeze your legs together.
“are you close?” you asked, completely entranced by his little performance.
“ah, shit... yeah...” issei mumbled, his head hanging back while his hand sped up. “y/n...”
“hm, issei?”
“l-let me see you, baby.”
you couldn’t help but obey immediately, setting your phone against the bedframe and sitting up on your knees before yanking your shirt off and slowly unclasping your bra.
“good girl... ah... fuck, i’m coming... oh my goddd...”
you gulped back a surplus of saliva, watching the high dissolve from issei’s eyes as he dropped his chin and looked at you with an expression that made you swallow a whimper.
“can i see?” you asked, dumbfounded and issei chuckled, cheeks flushed.
***
outside the gym that morning, a few freshman girls had gathered on the grassy field to sell tickets to prom for extra credit. you had joined them on the grass, gushing about how the poster looked amazing. unfortunately, you couldn’t afford a ticket. each one was 50 dollars and you had more essential things to spending that kind of money on.
“prom?” someone said behind you and you knew it was issei.
“yeah, are you going to buy a ticket?” asked one of the girls.
“well, why not... sounds fun, huh?” said issei, swinging the lanyard of his student ID in his hand as he sunk to the ground next to you.
the girl grinned. “thank you, we don’t have enough funds so we’re trying to get enough people to come as possible.” she took the money from issei and you bent forward to grab a ticket for him, almost instantly feeling his hand slip between your legs. you inhaled a sharp breath, giving him the ticket while remaining frozen in your position.
“wait, aren’t you guys freshmen?” asked issei, blinking in curiosity at the girls.
“yeah, we’re in this club to organize prom for extra credit,” the girl responded and issei nodded in thought, pressing the corner of his ID card between your folds. you held back a yelp and slapped his hand away while issei conversed with the girls so casually.
he’d replaced the card with his hand, pushing aside your underwear to dip his fingers into you and your knees aching as you tried to remain composed while simultaneously making sure no one could see what he was doing to you.
“what the fuck is wrong with you, we’re in public,” you whispered, barely moving your mouth as you stared at the blurry grass beneath you. his fingers felt way too good.
“nothing, i’m just obsessed with your pussy,” issei murmured back and the words alone caused you to come undone right there.
“issei,” you croaked, fingers curling into the grass.
“you okay?” asked the girl and you gave her a watery smile.
“oh, shit, thanks for reminding me, y/n,” said issei, standing up and pulling you to your feet along with him. “i have volleyball practice. thanks for the ticket.”
before long the two of you were in the empty boys’ locker room. “let me see,” issei had said, tugging on your underwear and glancing inside before grinning proudly at his work. he said you owed him for making you come so easily earlier as he pushed you to your knees and eased himself into your mouth. you’d never seen him this bare before and you hadn’t expected him to be this big but issei guided you with instructions and praises. he held himself back until he physically couldn’t anymore and he was thrusting into your mouth until tears slid down your cheeks.
“crying already, babe?” he cooed, a hand around your neck as he helped you to your feet and wiped your mouth with his thumb. “was it too big for you, hm? you’re so pretty...” you let him kiss your mouth, stumbling weakly against the wall as issei’s hands ran down your sides. then he was pulling away and pressing a few bills against your tear-stained cheeks.
“for the blowjob,” he whispered with a smile and you stared at him in confusion. “it’s fifty dollars, come on... get yourself a ticket. i can’t wait to fuck you at prom.”
i saw all ur guys’ love for this one so i decided to make a part 2 after all. it’s kind of messy, def doesn’t hit the same lol but i listen to the people. sadly, i will not be continuing this with a third part cause i feel like it’d just ruin the vibe of it <3 hope u enjoy this though
#matsukawa issei#matsukawa#matsukawa smut#mattsun#mattsun x reader#anime#anime smut#haikyuu#haikyuu smut#haikyuu x reader
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Holographic Sand is a Kickass Band Name
pairing: peter maximoff/OC(graciella decuerpo) (high school AU/not canon)
summary: peter learns that a fuckton can change in the course of a week
warnings: none? bad language and peter is simp but thats it
notes **please read**: Heyyyyy how are you doing? good? that’s great. so ik this fic is a peter/oc fic, but honesty i only use her name a few times and a few defining features but like. thats it. so you can totally just imagine urself in her position. also this fic is 5,550 words exactly. that’s the most ive ever written and I am SUPER fucking proud. I think i might become one of those blogs where i write super huge monster fics that im proud of instead of just writing to fill requests.if u dont want that then just lmk and i will not do that. i dont know. maybe. also this fic is peter centric because uh it is. anyways enjoy <3
taglist: @creator-appreciator, @simonsbluee
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Monday
Peter sat across the room, his arms crossed neatly on top of his knees as he rested his chin on his forearm. He wasn’t paying attention to the lesson being taught in front of him, in fact, he wasn’t paying attention to anything at all. No, Peter was lost in his head again. Peter’s mind was a chaotic minefield of music and cheesy one-liners and random facts that he seems to just know. But this time, he wasn’t envisioning himself beating up a police officer or playing with Pink Floyd. This time, he was picturing a perfect world where nothing ever happened yet nothing was ever boring. Peter had built a utopia in his mind-- a kingdom created to his exact preferences. A blissful tower of joy and happiness and energy and satisfaction. A paradise where he stood on top of the world with Graciella DeCuerpo, the pretty girl from algebra class, standing right next to him.
Now, Peter was well aware that the pretty girl from algebra class had no idea who Peter was. The pair had never exchanged more than a few words, but somewhere within those few words, Peter managed to decide that she was his soulmate. He’d created an image of her in his head that would make God weep tears of envy, the perfect personality for the perfect person. Peter willfully ignored the fact that he was setting himself up for heartbreak as he imagined how nice it would feel to have her fingers intertwined with his.
All of Peter’s friends thought he was ridiculous, ‘you can’t love someone you don’t know,’ they’d say. Peter would only scoff and shake away their words. He absolutely can love someone he doesn’t know, it’s getting the other person to reciprocate those feelings that’s nearly impossible. However, that doesn’t stop him from fantasizing at night. That doesn’t stop him from imagining the various ways he’d confess his love to the pretty girl who doesn’t love him. Or maybe she does. Peter doesn’t know, he could never know; unless, of course, he worked up the courage to talk to her.
Scott constantly teased Peter about his one-sided infatuation, but Peter paid no mind to him. He was 100% content with his perpetual pining for someone who probably didn’t know his name. He was totally okay with the unending ache in his chest that would appear any time she walked by or met his gaze. Peter was alright with his ceaseless yearning and the eternal feeling of disappointment that overtook him every time he snapped out of one of his fantasies. He was a-okay with all of that.
So, there he was, spacing out during biology class as Professor Hargreeves struggles to teach the silver teen about photosynthesis. The Professor looked at Peter with desperate eyes, soon deciding that having his usually energetic student be quiet and still was the silver lining of the situation-- no pun intended. Professor Hargreeves droned on as Peter glanced at the clock, counting down the minutes until 7th period. Counting the seconds until he got to see the pretty girl in algebra class once again.
Tuesday
6th period was always the worst part of Peter’s day-- the dreaded english class. There were many contributing factors to Peter’s hatred for this class; the professor was a bore, the material itself was uninteresting, and Peter could never seem to sit still or retain any of the words he read in english class. Worst of all, english class seemed to go on forever, leaving Peter to impatiently wait for the bell to ring and release him to 7th period. At the end of the period every day, he was practically vibrating in his seat.
“Can anyone tell me what Juliet’s suicide is supposed to symbolize?” the Professor asked expectantly. Peter couldn’t care less about the symbolism of some chick’s suicide-- he’d much rather be studying the features of his algebra class infatuation.
She sat next to him yesterday. There were at least 5 other open seats and she sat next to him. Yes, Peter read too much into it and yes, Peter spent the entire class period trying to make himself seem naturally cool, but he didn’t care. Peter would act like the most desperate, pathetic, lovestruck loser in the world if it meant that she would like him. They didn’t talk, they didn’t exchange a single word, nevertheless, Peter was in a state of euphoria for the entire class period.
Sometimes Peter feels like a stalker. He watches her whenever he can-- he doesn’t follow her around or anything, but if she’s around, he’ll stare at her. He has her features memorized, the curve of her nose, the dark brown irises surrounding her pupils, the way that she always seems to have chipped black nail polish on. He sees the small things. He sees the way she bites her nails when he gets bored and he sees the way her leg never seems to stop bouncing. She hums the basslines to songs as opposed to the melody.
English class came to an abrupt end as the bell cut off the Professor’s teachings as well as Peter’s distant daydreaming. Peter was out of his seat within seconds, his notes and books quickly being swept up in his arms as he walked out of the room. The hallways are crowded and chaotic and busy, each individual student attempting to get to their locker then to their class on time. Peter watches as kids swing their lockers open, fatigue and weariness apparent on their faces as they disappear into their classrooms. Peter reaches his locker hastily, the few small posters of classic rocks bands adorning the inside of his locker door. A playful giddiness overcame his body as he made his way to algebra class, a small smile left on his face.
Graciella shows up across the hallway, her bright red hair catching his eye in a sea of brown and blonde and blue. His stomach flutters as they get closer and closer to each other, finally meeting outside of the classroom. Her eyes rise to meet Peter’s, and instead of pulling away, Peter keeps looking. She smiles at him before disappearing inside the classroom, and Peter felt his knees get weak. With a deep breath and a triumphant smile, he walked into the classroom.
Wednesday
Lunchtime; possibly one of the most enjoyable parts of Peter’s school day. Peter is free to kick back and stuff his face full of whatever junk the school board deems nutritious enough for highschoolers. Usually, he ate lunch under the bleachers with his friends, but in some sick twist of fate most of them were absent. So, Peter was left to eat alone in his usual spot.
The quiet was comfortable, refreshing. The gentle summer breeze would blow every few minutes and Peter would listen to the rustle of the leaves. There’s a certain tranquility to being alone; Peter can lay back and relax and just… think. No stress, no panicking, no--
“Hey, uh, Peter, right?” Peter’s eyes snap up so fast he’s afraid they would detach from his head and fall out. His breath faltered and his hands began to shake a bit-- why was he so freaked out? She was just a girl; sure, she was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen, and yeah, he was madly in love with her, but that’s besides the point.
“Uh-- uh, yeah, P-Peter. That’s, uh, that’s me,” He chuckled awkwardly, desperately trying to stay cool. Peter was an awkward person, but he’d rather die than fuck up his chances with Grace.
“You dropped this on your way out of class yesterday, I, uhm, didn’t get to return it to you until now,” She holds out a small key chain with three small keys hanging off of it-- Peter’s house keys, along with the key to his mother’s car. He quickly takes the key chain from the red-haired girl in front of him.
“Holy shit, uh, thanks! I couldn’t get into my house yesterday so I guess you saved me from another broken window,” Peter held up his hand and showcased the scattered pattern of small cuts on his palm. Grace laughed lightly before gently running her fingers over the cuts on Peter’s palm.
“Oh fuck, dude, these look pretty bad. Maybe keep a spare key hidden under your welcome mat or something,” Peter doesn’t fully process Grace’s words; he’s too preoccupied with trying not to collapse at the feeling of her fingertips on his palm.
“Hey, you okay? You look… pale,” Grace pressed the back of her hand on Peter’s forehead in an attempt to check for illness, but that just made Peter’s skin erupt in goosebumps.
“I, um, I’m fine. I’m just st-stressed about the algebra t-test on Friday, I th-think,” To be fair, Peter was stressed about the algebra test. Peter may or may not have spent the entire class staring at Grace instead of, you know, learning the material.
“Oh! Well, if you want, I can help you study. I’m also kinda worried about it, and I study better with other people,” Peter silently thanked god for what was happening to him.
“That would be fuckin’ fantastic,” Grace smiled a smile that made Peter shiver.
“Cool! Uh, I’ll give you my phone number and we’ll meet up tomorrow. One day isn’t much time to study, but it’s better than nothing.” She pulls a pen out of her backpack and rips a small piece of paper out of one of her notebooks. Peter watches as she scribbles down her phone number and hands the paper to him.
“Thanks. For everything, the keys, the studying-- everything.” Grace smiled.
“It’s no problem, Peter, really. I’ll call you later,” And just like that, she walked away. Peter was left alone under the bleachers, a wide smile plastered on his face as he read the piece of paper in his hands over and over and over again.
Thursday
30 minutes. 30 minutes until Grace Reaper DeCuerpo, the prettiest, nicest, funniest girl Peter had ever met would show up on his doorstep. She would be inside his house for god knows how long. She would sit next to Peter-- either on the coffee table in the basement or on the floor of his bedroom. Needless to say, Peter was freaking the fuck out.
The plan was simple: Grace shows up, they study, they get comfortable, and she goes home. Yet, in those four simple steps, so much could go wrong. Wanda could interrupt, his mother could lose her temper, Lorena could start crying-- worst of all, Peter could embarrass himself and drive her away.
Peter was in the middle of reorganizing his record collection for a third time when he heard a knock at the door. His blood went cold and an electric excitement ran through his veins. Peter checked his hair in the mirror one last time before running to the door. He stood silently, staring at the chrome handle hesitantly. This was his one chance. His only chance to make his perfect kingdom real-- Peter really, really, really didn't want to fuck it up. With a deep breath, he slowly opened the door.
"Hey, Peter!" Her voice was smooth and melodic and it made Peter's heart light up. He’s about to respond with something smooth and witty when a squeaky voice chirps behind him.
“Hi!! Are you the pretty girl Peter talks about?” Peter can physically feel his face turn bright red as he turns to see his six-year-old sister, Lorena, standing behind him. She’s wearing a purple princess dress that has a syrup stain on the sleeve. Grace laughs before stepping through the doorway.
“Lorena!” Peter groans in annoyance, a pleading look on his face. The young girl just giggles before scurrying away, her dress flowing behind her.
“‘The pretty girl Peter talks about’, huh?” Grace grins at Peter cheekily. Peter runs his hand through his hair before motioning to the staircase.
“God, Lorna is quite the kid. Well, uh, we can work in my room,” He sighs. “And Grace? Uh, m-maybe don’t let Lorena change your opinion of me,” She just smirks before walking past Peter.
“Too late,” She called before disappearing down the stairs. Peter could hear the faintest trace of a smile in her voice. His heart skipped a beat as he quickly followed after her.
She was wearing a Pink Floyd t-shirt and holding a backpack with various pins on it-- her left ear was pierced in three places and her right in five. The earrings she was wearing were black, or maybe grey; her bright red hair blocked Peter’s view of them. She was wearing rings, some odd words engraved in the metal. Peter couldn’t read them from where he was standing. She was wearing a skirt with fishnets, her hand buried in the pockets that seem to have been sewn in herself. She has callouses on both her hands, but Peter knew that already. Her appearance would put Aphrodite to shame-- suddenly, Peter was much less confident in himself than he was before. He ran his hand through his hair again before reaching the basement.
He held his breath as Grace looked around his room, her gaze lingering on the plethora of stolen signs and band posters covering the walls. She placed her backpack on the floor and walked over to Peter’s record collection, her fingers carefully flitting through the different albums. She seemed… impressed. It was then that Peter realized it had been silent for much too long.
“Y’know I can, uh, p-play some music if you want me to. You can just pick a record and, uh, I’ll... play it,” Peter winced at his words, cursing himself for being so awkward in front of the girl he’d been pining after since the beginning of the year. He felt like everything had spiraled out of control, and he watched idly as it happened. Then, Grace shot him a smile and pulled out a record.
“You have a good taste in music, Silver,” No one had ever called Peter ‘silver’ before. He liked it a bit more than he should. “Although, that’s not really a surprise. I had a feeling you were cool.”
“You think I’m cool?” Peter asked, shocked. He wasn’t sure he heard her correctly.
“Oh, totally. I see you in the hallways sometimes and you always seem so… carefree. Genuine. I don’t know, I guess it’s just… you, ya know? You’re naturally cool.” Every syllable that rolled off her tongue shot euphoria through Peter’s veins. Grace DeCuerpo, the girl Peter Maximoff had dreamed of for almost a full year, was telling him that she thought he was cool. Naturally cool.
“I know a lot of people who would disagree with you on that one,” Peter joked. There was truth behind his humor, but of course, he didn’t want to get into his insecurities now. “They think I’m a total loser, which isn’t totally wrong I guess.”
“Well those people are stupid,” She stated matter-of-factly with a smile. “Speaking of stupid, we should probably get to work.” Peter nodded before sitting beside her on the floor.
For three hours they poured over their algebra books. They quizzed each other and checked each other’s work; Peter’s proficiency in simplifying radicals aiding them both. Every now and then their hands would brush against each other, or the conversation would stray away from school and into their personal lives. Peter learned that Grace had two brothers, one of which passed away when she was younger. Peter talked about Lorena and Wanda and his miraculous abilities in the same way that she talked about her hometown and her own abilities. The conversation was smooth and natural-- Peter didn’t feel like he was being too annoying or too chatty and there was seldom an awkward pause. The pair were content in their time together, not a single moment went by where one wished the other would leave.
Eventually, Grace had to go home. Peter wished that she could stay forever, but of course, that would be considered kidnapping. He walked her to the door, although Peter didn’t feel like he was walking. He felt like he was floating.
“Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, Silver,” Grace said softly as she turned to face Peter. She looked him in the eye and he could feel his stomach flutter.
“Yeah, I guess so,” She opened the door, but before she left, she froze. She turned to look at Peter once again.
“Peter?” she said. “You’re not a loser.”
Friday
Peter could tell the second he walked through the front door of his high school that something had changed. The energy that radiated in the halls shifted from a dull buzz of boredom to a rush of anticipation. The students in the hallway looked the same as always; tired and anxious and wishing for the day to go by quickly. However, Peter wasn’t wishing for the end of the day, and he certainly wasn’t tired. He was determined and energized and absolutely terrified, because that morning Peter Maximoff made the most important decision a seventeen-year-old could. He decided that he was going to ask Grace out on a date.
Peter made the choice to keep this from his friends-- it’s not that he didn’t trust them, it’s just that Peter knew he would be teased for his infatuation. It’s happened before and it will happen again. He walked down the hallways with a brave face on, his eyes forward and his heart racing. Truthfully, the silver teenager was terrified of… well, everything. The looming image of a harsh rejection forced itself into his mind; the idea that she would laugh in his face made his heart break a tiny bit, even though it wasn’t real. Peter simply shook those images away and walked on.
The day flew by much faster than Peter was comfortable with, and for the first time ever, he was dreading algebra class. He was terrified that he would walk through the door and have everything be exactly the same-- he feared that Grace would go back to not knowing who he was, just like before. Peter was alright with never being her boyfriend, but he didn’t want to be a stranger. He didn’t think he could take being a stranger anymore.
So, there he stood, staring at the door to his algebra classroom from across the hall. He felt confident and prepared himself for the task at hand. In four long strides, he entered the classroom. Grace was sitting next to an empty desk, her eyes stuck on the small notebook full of doodles on her desk. Peter watched as her eyes raised to meet his, a wide smile forming on her face as she motioned him over.
“Hey, silver! I saved a seat for ya,” she called, and Peter felt his knees get weak. He then decided that he would wait until after class to ask her out.
“You did?”
“Of course,” She grinned. “I like you, dude, you’re my friend,” Peter’s heart fluttered as he sat down beside her. Grace shot an odd look his way before reaching out and placing a hand on his arm. “Hey, you look stressed. Don’t sweat it, silver, you’ll do fine. We studied for, like, 3 hours yesterday. You’re gonna ace it,”
To be frank, Peter had forgotten all about the test. The real reason he looked so stressed was because he happened to be sitting next to the love of his life, and the love of his life happened to be touching his arm.
“O-oh! Uh, yeah, thanks. I was just nervous because of… the test,” The bell rang and class began, the professor strictly laying down the rules that were to be followed while the test was in session. Peter could feel the lingering touch of her hand on his skin. It made his head feel fuzzy.
Peter soon came to learn that sitting next to Grace during a test was a huge mistake. He couldn’t focus on anything other than her-- it didn’t help that she kept shooting him glances from where she sat. The numbers and letters on the paper in front of him seemed to rearrange before his eyes, instead spelling out various taunts. He feels a little pathetic for how easily Grace can unravel him, but hey, he’s a teenager.
The silver-haired boy’s eyes were struggling to decipher the words on his page when a small folded square landed on his desk. It came from Grace’s direction, and a small smirk had formed on her lips as she solved equations. Hesitantly, he unfolded the paper and read the neatly written message.
Hey silver :)
Peter smiled softly. He quickly pulled a pad of post-it notes out of his backpack and scribbled down a quick reply.
I have no idea what I’m doing. I think Professor Stedman decided to write our tests in hieroglyphics this time.
He flicked the note onto her desk and quickly turned his face downward. Class would be over soon, and Peter knew he couldn’t turn in a blank test. He uses his enhanced speed to do his assessment in seconds. Sure, he was almost certain he’d barely reach a passing grade, but hey, he had bigger matters to focus on. By the time he finished, another note landed on his desk.
That bad, huh? Looks like we better study longer next time.
Peter’s heart swelled a bit. He really thought the study sessions were a one-time thing. He’s overjoyed to know he’ll get to see Grace semi-regularly, even if he never manages to ask her out.
I think I’d rather hang out with you without the looming threat of schoolwork.
That’s the closest Peter could get to asking her out. He put deep thought into every word, he examined the phrasing and checked the spelling of every word. His english teacher would be proud.
That can be arranged ;)
Peter had no idea that four words could make him feel so much. He had no idea that 17 letters could make him want to scream in the middle of a silent testing period. His hand was shaking and his careful planning was abandoned as he scribbled back a reply.
Oh yeah? What did you have in mind?
Patiently, he waited. He waited for Grace to finish writing her response and he waited for her to toss the note back over. He didn’t wait for more than a few minutes, but it felt like hours. He was panicking, and he was sure she could tell. She was probably joking, right? She was probably writing an awkward clarification-- she was probably explaining that she would actually rather die than be around him for non-academic reasons. He braced himself as the yellow post-it landed on the center of his desk.
My aunt owns a drive-in a few miles from here and she gave me keys to the projector room and the gate. She managed to snag a copy of The Exorcist-- I thought you’d like to join me during my midnight escapade tomorrow night.
Peter’s heart stopped. For a moment, he thought his eyes were fooling him. Maybe this was all some sick joke. Maybe he was being set up. Maybe he’ll get in her car tomorrow and she’ll drive him into the woods and murder him. To be completely honest, Peter wouldn’t mind if she murdered him. Peter wrote his reply.
Really? You want me there? I might be a drag. You could probably find at least 20 other people who would probably be more interesting than me.
Grace frowned at his response, and suddenly Peter decided he never wanted to see her frown again. She wrote confidently, her words solid and sure.
You? A drag? Impossible. I don’t want to be alone, and I don’t want to be with anyone other than you, Maximoff.
This note was his undoing. He couldn’t help himself, he read it over and over and over again-- he almost forgot to respond. He wanted to hold onto it forever, he wanted it to be framed and hung on his wall. Hell, he wanted it tattooed on his arm. Peter had never been so happy while taking a test, that’s for sure. He wasn’t sure exactly what to say; he went from heartfelt responses to witty retorts. Finally, he decided to be totally and completely honest.
I wouldn’t miss it for the world.
Saturday
There was seldom a time in his life where Peter Maximoff felt wholly content. Even in the most peaceful moments, there was always something bothering him, there was always something to pull him back to reality. However, sitting in the back of Grace’s dad’s convertible with the seats down and the roof pulled back, his head resting on her shoulder as they watched a cheesy horror movie, Peter was as close to nirvana as he’d ever been.
Life had always been so hard for Peter. He’s always had to fight for his seat at the table, to claw his way into a state of mind that wasn’t a hellhole. It seemed as if the world was plotted against him; he was ostracized from society and taught that he, along with his closest family and friends, were monsters. He never met his father and his mother spent so long fighting her own battles that she forgot to love her kids. Peter had to steal to stay fed, and he had to do his best to raise his little sisters to be good people. But right there, right then? That wasn’t hard. Peter didn’t have to be anyone or do anything-- he just had to exist next to someone who wanted him. That was the easiest thing Peter had ever done.
Peter wasn’t exactly sure how he got there. Of course, he knew that they had driven to the drive-in, but he wasn’t sure how he was the person next to Grace. They had spoken for one day, maybe two, and somehow he landed himself in the most perfect spot in the entire universe. Less than a week ago, she didn’t even know his name. Or, maybe she did. Maybe she was just like Peter-- maybe she had spent the past year pining for him, and finally she worked up the nerve to just talk to him. Maybe. Peter isn’t complaining either way.
“Can I ask you a kind of cheesy question?” Peter is startled by the sound of his own voice. Grace sits up and glances at him.
“Shoot,”
“Do you-- well, uh, don’t read too much into this, but, do you believe in love at first sight?” God, he sounded awkward.
“Nope,” She said bluntly. Peter wasn’t expecting that answer, but he wasn’t exactly disappointed by it. “I mean, it’s kind of a stupid idea, ya know? Like, isn’t there a million poems and sonnets and books written about how love is this weird complicated monster of a feeling? I don’t think you can really love someone just by looking at them. You can love the idea of a person, sure, or maybe the look of a person, but you can’t love that person. Because a person is so much more than ‘first sight’,” she sighs. “I don’t know, maybe I’m being a killjoy. It just seems dumb to me-- dumb and, I don’t know, exclusive,”
Peter stops to think for a moment. He steps out of his lovesick chaotic hellbrain and looks at his feelings from an outside perspective. He thinks back to the kingdom he created in his brain-- a kingdom built on a foundation of sand. Or, less than sand. Holographic sand, because the sand he built his kingdom on wasn’t real. He made a mental note that ‘Holographic Sand’ is a kickass band name, then resumed his impromptu soul-searching. She was right-- he could see that now. Scott was right, too. You really can’t love someone you don’t know, because if you don’t know them, you fill in the gaps. You fill in the gaps with what you think fits, and then the other person stops being them and starts being parts of you. Peter suddenly felt weird.
“I’m sorry if I said something wrong,” Grace interjects after a while. Peter hadn’t realized he’d been silent for so long.
“You didn’t say anything wrong. On the contrary, you, uh, you made things a little bit more… right, in my brain. You somehow managed to take a little chunk of chaos and tame it, which is scarily impressive,” he joked. “Remind me to ask you your opinion on the meaning of life and the root of true happiness,” They’re joined in a chorus of laughter and Peter realizes that his little brain kingdom didn’t hold a candle to the red convertible he was sitting in. She slings an arm around his shoulders.
“Y’know, I might not know the meaning of life, but I am pretty close to true happiness right now,” She says, softer than before. “Maybe the root of true happiness is you, Maximoff,” She chuckles. Peter smiles. He doesn’t want the ruin the moment-- god, he is desperately trying to keep himself from fucking it up, but he feels obligated to tell her about his year of pining.
“Hey, uh, can I tell you something kinda pathetic?” He cringes at the way his voice trembled on the last word.
“Go ahead, Peter,” She used his name this time. Peter thinks she knows he’s about to say something mildly serious.
“I’ve liked you since, like, the beginning of the year. You seemed so… cool. So nice. I saw you in the hallways and my stomach would get all twisted up and my head would hurt a little bit. It was like I was allergic to you, but I enjoyed it. That sounds weird. I’m sorry,” He stopped for a moment, attempting to take the buzzing mass of words in his brain and string them into a sentence. “I was too afraid to talk to you, so I, uh, asked around. I got other people’s opinions of you and then built a little version of you in my brain. I realize now that, uhm, the little brain version of you is like, way way worse than actual you,”
When you talked to me the first time, you threw me off. I wasn’t really nervous about the test-- I mean, yeah I was nervous but that’s not why I looked so pale. I just wasn’t expecting for you to talk to me, like, willingly. So I lied because I was embarrassed. And I lied again in class yesterday. Because I was embarrassed,” He stopped talking. Peter felt like he was digging himself into a hole-- he felt like he killed the sweet sugary mood.
“Why are you telling me this?” Grace asked. She didn’t sound angry. She sounded a little confused, and she sounded like she was trying to help Peter decipher his brain.
“I don’t know, I guess I just feel bad. I feel bad for, uh, for not being honest I guess. I feel bad for being a coward,” Yep, definitely killed the mood.
“Peter, you shouldn’t feel bad for being afraid, you know,” She assures. “I would’ve done the exact same thing in your position. Hell, I did do the exact same thing in your position,” That caught Peter’s attention.
“What?”
“You didn’t drop your keys in algebra. You dropped them somewhere in bio and my friend found them. She was gonna take them to the office, but I wanted an excuse to talk to you, so I said I’d return them,” Peter couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He was being pranked, he had to be. “Being awkward and weird is like a requirement in high school. Don’t sweat it, Maximoff, really. We’re all the same in that way, I think,”
Peter felt a wave of relief wash over him. He was feeling too much at that moment, he was letting the bad drown out the good. He didn’t want to remember the day in a sad light.
“I like you. A lot. Even if you are awkward and weird,” He smiles softly. Slowly, ever so slowly, he intertwined his fingers with those of the girl beside him. It was a simple display of affection, but it made Peter feel like he was floating.
“I like you too, dork,” Peter smiled widely before placing his head back on Grace’s shoulder. Peter wasn’t paying attention to the movie, in fact, he wasn’t paying attention to anything at all. No, Peter was lost in his head again-- but this time, he wasn’t standing on a false kingdom with a false version of the girl he liked. No, this time, he was thinking about the very real girl beside him. He was thinking about the perfect world they had created in the small car they were in; a perfect world where he felt so much emotion and so, so safe. They had built a utopia in the back seat- a blissful tower of awkwardness and comfort and clumsy confessions. A paradise where he sat in the back seat of a Ford Galaxie with Graciella DeCuerpo, the pretty girl from algebra class, sitting right next to him.
#Evan Peters#peter maximoff#peter maximoff x oc#peter maximoff x reader#sorta a little bit#graciella reaper decuerpo#xmen#xmen fanfiction#xmen imagine#high school AU
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candy canes | yeosang
— TYPE: fluff, one shot
— WORD COUNT: 2.1k
— SYNOPSIS: whenever winter time comes around, you always get three candy canes from the same person whose name probably starts with a ‘y’.
— AUTHOR’S MESSAGE: i’m trying to make as much one shots as i can ; ^ ; so hopefully you guys enjoy this little yeosang one shot!!
i am: distracted by this gif
three candy canes taped on the locker door and a baby blue memo with a handwritten note on it were the things you became used to seeing every time december comes around. it started in sophomore year, and it started with one candy cane and a pink memo sheet. the notes were written in clean handwriting, satisfying to look at. it always ended with the initial y. this y person could honestly be anyone from school, and the last person you expect to leave these were kang yeosang- as if he’d bat an eyelash at you, anyway. he is nothing to you but a seatmate in your classroom.
who is kang yeosang?
kang yeosang is popular in school because of his out-of-this-world looks. he almost looked unreal, like an animated doll; better yet, an actual doll. he was shy, and mostly quiet as most students say. when he talks, everyone shuts up to hear the words that he says. yeosang has a deep voice and a slight lisp, which adds more to his charms. he was everyone’s dream boy, even their mothers!
the first snow came a little later in november, but it was a magnificent sight to see. you finally had an excuse to wear your black padded jacket and wear sweatpants under your skirt. snow came constantly now that december had started.
you went to your locker to grab your math and english books and put back your science book, and upon walking over you found the familiar candy canes mounted on the gray, metal door. all you could do was smile, but worry that your mom would get annoyed because of the abundance of candy canes at home.
your hands peeled off the candy canes, fingertips meeting the cold metal. opening up your locker, you were bestowed with a note written on a square baby blue memo sheet. it contained the familiar penmanship that you were so used to seeing, a smile crept up on your face as your fingers picked up the paper in a delicate manner.
your eyes still hold the same galaxies and stars, even after three years of giving you candy canes and memo notes. and you’re still as beautiful in my eyes.
- y ♡
your face began to heat up, still unable to process the fact that someone is still sending you these things. a smile played on your lips, slipping the note into your notebook and shutting the door. as your turned around, kang yeosang himself was walking to the classroom you both shared, his eyes were on your for a second before nodding his head in acknowledgement. you nodded yours, heart racing and swallowing hard.
yeosang had been in your class twice; once in sophomore year and in senior year. the only thing that’s different is that he sits next to you this time. sitting next to him felt undeserving; he was like a prince, and he looks like one too. you often couldn’t look at him in the eye, but when you do it was like the electricity down your spine was gone, like he had unplugged the cord in your spine. his gaze was almost immobilizing.
you set down your bag in your chair, pushing it into the desk as yeosang did the same. he looked at you, and to your mistake you did too. he had an icy stare, it matched with the snowy environment outside. however, the light from the window made it seem like he was an angel, outlining his figure. shaking off his stare, you smiled before bowing and fleeing the classroom to find your friends.
yeosang must have seen you geeking over the note in your locker, and the candy canes you were stuffing in it. it could have been anyone else, but yeosang was the one who saw you. god, how embarrassing... maybe he didn’t see you blushing over it? let’s go with he didn’t.
“y/n! about time you got here,” eunha called, leaning on her left as she crossed her arm over her chest. “i’m guessing...?”
“more candy canes?” yunhyeong asked, a rather amused face plastered on his face. your friends knew and are up to date with the secret admirer thing (or at least that’s what they call it). they took up the opportunity of finding out who y was, but gave up knowing there were a lot of people whose names starts with a y, like yunhyeong. “look, it really isn’t me- i hate candy canes.”
“we stopped saying it was you,” insook said, patting yunhyeong on the cheek before rolling her eyes to the side playfully. “actually, we just stopped trying to find out.”
“there’s only one letter- how much help would that be anyway?” you added, chuckling and internally admitting that you’ll never meet your secret admirer. after three years of keeping up with this, they still have not shown or grew the balls to introduce themselves to you. why hope, right? “oh, whatever. it’ll be over once we graduate.”
“true, but still,” sukwoon butted in. “we might still want to find out whoever the fuck y is.”
sukwoon always had a... delightful vocabulary. but so were the rest of you, from time to time.
english class was just as boring as you wished it wouldn’t be. unnecessary partner stuff - well, you found it unnecessary because yeosang wouldn’t talk to you after all the english talk between the both of you, which made everything even more awkward than most days. not that he ever talked to you, but he talks to his friend, wooyoung.
your eyes began to linger along the classroom wall filled with posters and charts. there was a bulletin board right above the bookshelf on the left side of the room from you and it was filled with pinned grade sheets that you never checked, and right next to it were to unneeded but nice-to-have motivations for schoolwork. you smiled a little, eyes rolling all over the place. retrieving your eyes back, they landed on yeosang’s papers. you simply admired his crisp and neat handwriting, it was almost envious.
but they looked awfully familiar... where else have i seen this handwriting?
you were staring at his paper for so long that you hadn’t realized yeosang was speaking to you, “did i spell something wrong?”
“oh! n-no,” you stammered, clearing your voice and turning away to cough away whatever was stuck in your throat. turning back your attention to the pretty boy next to you, he was staring right at you. and it was different now; it was like you were being hypnotized by his eyes alone. “i-i just thought y-your handwriting was- uh, fuck- what was it?- oh! it looked familiar. i’ve seen it somewhere, i just- don’t know what it was or where it was.”
he nodded, turning his head away from you. his eyes darted around, anywhere but you. after he turned his attention away from you, you let out a relieved sigh. “so, i didn’t spell anything wrong?”
“n-no, your spelling is perfect,” you replied with a smile, hoping that the conversation would end. and it actually did, the tension building up in your chest faded away. class went on without the both of you talking to each other again, and onto the lunch period. oh, you so wanted to tell your friends about how familiar yeosang’s handwriting was. if it was so familiar to me, why can’t i remember where i’ve seen it?
before going to the cafeteria to meet your friends, you went to your locker to get the lunchbox you prepared at home. upon unlocking the lock, you decided to look at the note once more just to cheer yourself up. grabbing the notebook you had stuffed the note in, your eyes grazed on the neat handwriting you familiarized yourself with, and that’s when it dawned you.
this was yeosang’s handwriting.
“you’re being ridiculous,” insook said, slurping up her noodles before humming in satisfaction of the flavor. you had just told them that yeosang may or may not be the secret admirer they have been telling you about, but they all dismissed it and told you you were being delusional. somewhat true, but who else has handwriting like yeosang? that’s right- no one else! “we’ve never even seen him talk to any girls or ask them out on dates or whatever.”
“why would be updated on that type of stuff?” you asked, getting a little frustrated that your own friends won’t take your word for the mystery secret admirer. “i’m not kidding! i sit next to him and i looked at his- fuckin’- paper! it deadass looks the fuckin’ same!”
“easy, potty mouth,” sukwoon said, your head snapping right at him.
“you’re one to talk.”
“why don’t you ask yeosang himself?” yunhyeong suggested, looking up at you as he opened his milk carton.
“he’s right,” eunha added. “if you think he’s doing it, then ask him.”
“that’s embarrassing,” you said, sitting back down with a huff. it’s true, it would be embarrassing for both you and yeosang. if you were to speak to him and bring up the candy canes and the notes, he’d be embarrassed in front of his friends... maybe. you didn’t want to falsely “accuse” him of anything. “it’s probably a coincidence.”
“yep, might be it,” sukwoon said.
math class was a pain to be in. the math teacher was absent for the day, so a substitute was ordered to give out worksheets based on the lesson you were learning about and work either individually or with desk partner. you didn’t opt for working with yeosang, he was good at concentrating and gets good grades during tests and such. he didn’t need your help, right?
you felt light taps on your left shoulder, turning your head right at yeosang who had a blank face. he was leaning towards you, his paper in hand. was he asking for help? his paper looks like it’s done.. “yes..?”
“do you need help?” his deep voice asked, big eyes blinking right into yours. looking down at yours, you simply nodded followed by a chuckle. you certainly didn’t want to feel dumb around him, but you needed some help. “okay.. which one?”
“this one,” you pointed at the one you were stuck on. you wouldn’t even hesitate to admit that yeosang explained the question and the steps a lot better than the teacher. the more he talked, the more you felt comfortable with his intimidating presence. he explained it to you precisely and asked if he could watch you do the problem so he could confirm it. and you let him. “did i do it right?”
“yes, you did,” he replied, a small - very small - smile playing on his thin yet gorgeous pink lips. you wondered how could someone look so good and extraordinary like him, who birthed him? “um..”
god, he’s so awkward. it’s adorable.
“you said my handwriting was familiar a while ago,” he added when you didn’t say anything. he was still staring at you, but once you did he looked away and straight at the board with an unnaturally straight posture. you smiled at this. “may.. i know why?”
“i-i don’t know if i should tell you- it’s weird and embarrassing,” you replied with an embarrassed smile. but he grinned.
“i hear weird things all day, i think i can handle this one.”
after much consideration, maybe telling kang yeosang about the secret admirer, candy canes and notes situation. at the end of the day, he wouldn’t care about your possible love life- he might even have a love life of his own that he tends to.
“i’ve been getting notes and candy canes for three years straight,” you said in a summarized version of the situation. “and i don’t know who it is, but they always sign it with a y.”
you could’ve sworn he gulped and his eyes darted to the side. yeosang nodded his head before shifting in his seat. you chuckled at this, “are you alright? i told you it-“
“it was me,” yeosang suddenly said. it certainly caught you off-guard. that was when your heart began to thump, and it was as if your head doesn’t know what was happening but your heart does. you gulped, lips pursing and looking to avoid his eyes. “i’m sorry, i didn’t have the courage to tell you.. so i gave candy canes and notes.”
“sophomore y-year?”
“oh- yeah, when we shared a classroom together,” he said. he was oddly calm. “but.. um, now that you know.. do you- do you want to go on a date.. or something?”
you can’t deny him, you were like under his spell already. “i-i’d like that.”
he smiled softly, “meet me in front of the school, um- saturday, 10 am.”
#ateez#ateez yeosang#ateez kang yeosang#yeosang#kang yeosang#christmas#candy canes#fluff#cute#adorable#boyfriend#kpop imagines#kpop oneshot#ateez kpop#kpop scenarios#winter#school#high school
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Hot for Teacher (Part 1)
Here is my entry for Ash’s 2k Writing Challenge! I had so much fun with this, and it really kind of got away from me. I mean ... I had to break this up into three parts because it’s 9017 words altogether. I apologize for nothing. I LOVE stories about college students and their professors, and that was initially my idea for this, but it didn’t work out like that. I hope y’all enjoy this. ;)
PROMPT: Teacher Negan
CHARACTERS: Female reader, Beth Greene, Negan, (these following characters are just mentioned) Glenn, Morgan, Sasha, Spencer, Rick, Olivia, Abraham, Rosita, Aaron, Darryl
WORD COUNT: 3996
WARNINGS: Language (Since it’s a Negan story, what do you expect?), explicit sexual content, semi-public sex (kind of?)
TAGS: @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash, @crzcorgi, @negans-network, @strangersangel9, @mrs-squirrel-chester, @waywardsoulpainter, @negansxlucille, @kittenofdoomage, @wolfslullaby, @happynothlit, @gobemywonderwall, @hellointerestedineverythingfan, @toxic-ink, @perseusandmedusa, @mamapeterson, @mypapawinchester, @constellationsolo, @smuttwd, @neganappreciation, @mypapawinchester
You sat down at your desk, smoothing your hands over the top of it. You took in a breath and let it out slowly, taking your time in looking around the room. There were twenty desks set up in rows, four desks to a row, five rows in the room. There was a podium at the front of the classroom that was all but begging for a new paint job, a large cabinet behind your desk, two whiteboards on one wall, a chalkboard on another, and absolutely nothing but stark white paint on the walls on the other two walls.
You took a pen from your purse and a yellow legal pad from your patterned messenger bag your mom had bought you as a graduation present. You started to make a list, and at the top, number one was Paint podium. Number two, almost if not equally as important was Rearrange room. You couldn’t stand the typical classroom set-up that your room currently held. You wanted something that would excite the kids, something that would make them want to come to your class and learn from you.
Well … that was kind of a long shot. You were teaching junior high English. The kids in your classes would be out of the childlike innocence of liking school. These kids would be hating school, constantly pushing boundaries while trying to figure out who they were, all the while dealing with raging hormones.
Why did you take this job again?
You shook your head and snorted, pushing your hands through your hair before twisting it up into a ponytail.
“Something funny?”
You glanced over to see your only friend in this town leaning against the door. Her blonde hair was down, brushing her shoulders, and the light purple maxi skirt she wore was billowing around her legs as she walked. You smiled.
“Hi, Beth. Tell me you’ve come to help.”
She let out a laugh.
“Like I don’t have a classroom of my own to get ready?”
Beth walked to the desk in front of yours, sitting down and resting her forearms on the top. She glanced around the room, then made a face. You sighed, sitting back in your chair.
“I know. It’s so plain.”
Beth nodded, sitting back and crossing her arms.
“It sucks we can’t paint the walls. Do you have posters?”
“I have an old Justin Timberlake one that I may or may not have kissed every night of my adolescence.”
Beth doubled over with laughter, and you smiled as you slowly moved your chair from side-to-side. When she had regained composure, Beth looked up at you and smiled.
“We’ve got two weeks before the minions get here. We can make you some posters.”
“Educational ones? Like a list of prepositions. Different definitions for the parts of speech.”
“Motivational sayings.”
You nodded, jotting those items down on your notepad, but in a different list. You tapped your pen against the yellow paper and Beth leaned back in her seat.
“So have you met anyone else?”
“There are people besides you here?”
Beth rolled her eyes.
“Yes, but hardly anyone comes up here this early. And by ‘early,’ I mean two weeks before classes start.”
You nodded. Beth looked towards the door and spoke again.
“My sister’s husband is the history teacher. You’ll like him; he’s very nice. His classroom is the one right inside the door at this end of the hall. Glenn is his name.”
You nodded again, and she went on.
“I teach math across the hall, but you know that already. The computer lab is right next door, on the other side of that wall.”
She pointed to the wall behind your desk and you glanced back before looking at her again.
“Morgan’s over there. He doesn’t say much, but he’s an excellent teacher. The principal’s office is on the other side of Morgan’s room. Across the hall is the biology class, which Sasha teaches. The science lab is on the other side of her room, and just trust me when I say keep your distance. It will be almost unbearable in the spring when the kids have to dissect something.”
She shrugged her shoulders.
“Who else … Oh, Spencer does a civics/speech class down on the other end of the hall, and again, trust me when I say keep your distance. He’s a cocky SOB and I swear he’s trying to get Rick’s job.”
“He wants to be the principal?”
“I don’t know if he wants it himself or he just wants Rick out. We all can’t stand him, and he knows we’re on Rick’s side, so he keeps to himself. He’s a good teacher, even if he is whiny as hell.”
You laughed, and Beth went on.
“Olivia teaches art, which is in a different building. Same building, Abraham and Rosita teach shop. Do not say anything to her about being a female shop teacher, because she’ll probably kick your ass on principle.”
You pursed your lips together and nodded, and Beth tapped her foot on the floor.
“Oh, Aaron’s the track coach, Darryl is the archery instructor, Rick coaches football, and Negan does P.E. and baseball.”
You sighed, rubbing a hand over your eyes.
“I’m never going to remember all that.”
Beth laughed.
“Oh, sure you will. Don’t worry.”
She stood up, brushing her hands on her skirt.
“In the meantime, let’s get out of here. We can do lunch and find some paint for this awful podium.”
You let out a laugh.
“You read my mind.”
You and Beth became pretty good friends over the two weeks before school started. You discovered her crush on Darryl Dixon, the archery instructor/math tutor, and she discovered how good you were with paint and crafts. Your podium was almost unrecognizable when you finished it, and Beth had already enlisted your services for her own podium over Christmas break.
Now though, was the Saturday before school started on Monday. You were putting the finishing touches on your classroom, and you were pretty proud of how your plain ol’ classroom was … not anymore. Beth had helped you find motivational sayings that the two of you painted onto canvases, and you’d hung them throughout the room. You’d also painted a few sets of basic English rules for grammar and sentence structure and hung them up, as well.
There was a clock above your door that you didn’t like, and you’d decided to switch the placement of the clock with one of your canvases. Only thing was, you were too short to reach above the door, so you’d dragged a chair over and that’s what you were standing on. You were still a little short there, so you were up on your tiptoes, barely brushing the clock with the tips of your fingers.
You knew the second it happened, when your ankle gave out and the chair slid back a bit. You tried to brace yourself, but instead of the cold, hard floor, you fell into something warm and sturdy.
“Easy, doll. You alright?”
Your cheeks flushed as mortification settled in your gut. You let out a groan, covering your face with your hands. A deep chuckle sounded close to your ear, and you looked up, peeking through your fingers, to see the face of the man who was holding you.
Whoa.
He was hot.
He set you on your feet, holding onto your waist to make sure you had your balance. You blinked as you studied him, the dark hair that was combed back on his head, the salt-and-pepper beard that dusted his cheeks and chin. You would swear you could see dimples in his cheeks as he smiled, and he stepped away from you, leaning back and licking his lips as he took his fill of looking at you.
“You’re the new one, ain’t ya?”
You blinked, then nodded.
“Y/N. English teacher.”
He nodded, laying a hand to his chest.
“Negan.”
Your eyebrows quirked up. He was one of the people Beth had mentioned, one of the coaches. He lifted a hand to rub at his chin, and you noticed the leather jacket he wore. Even though it was September, it was still too warm for jackets. But this man …
“See something you like?”
You looked up, eyes widening when you realized you’d been caught. Your cheeks went hot and you glanced away, crossing your arms over your chest. Negan laughed.
“It’s okay, doll. I don’t mind. I’ll admit that I was staring a bit myself, before you fell off that chair.”
“I didn’t fall. My ankle gave out.”
Negan nodded, and that’s when you realized exactly what he’d said. You met his eyes and he smiled.
“Is there something I can help with?”
You pointed to the clock and he nodded. He was taller than you, and he walked over to the door, reaching up and taking the clock off the wall. You huffed out a breath and rolled your eyes, and Negan chuckled as he carried the clock to you. You took it, nodding to him.
“Thank you.”
“You were trying to break your neck for a clock?”
You rolled your eyes again, and when you glanced up, you saw the smile on his face.
“I don’t like the clock. I was going to replace it with one of these signs, but I couldn’t reach.”
Negan pursed his lips as he nodded, taking hold of one of the signs and carrying it to the door, going on his tiptoes to catch the nail in the wall with the sign’s hanger.
“There. Fuckin’ perfect.”
You blinked, and he walked back over to you, bypassing you and sitting in your desk chair. You shook your head, shuffling through some papers on your desk.
“Please, make yourself at home.”
“As you wish.”
You couldn’t help the smile as you carried the papers to the freshly-painted podium.
“So why English? I like to read myself, but I could never teach it to a couple dozen brats every day.”
You glanced back at him.
“I hated math. History would get boring and monotonous, teaching the same thing year after year. I can’t do science-y stuff. I was always good at English, and there are new books just about every month. I don’t have to teach the same ones every year. But even if I did, the way the books are interpreted is never the same.”
“Give me an example.”
You lifted one eyebrow, then leaned over the podium as you spoke.
“Have you ever read Lord of the Flies?”
“Yeah, in junior high, I think. That book was fuckin’ awesome.”
“Why?”
Negan leaned back in your chair, lacing his fingers together over his abdomen, long legs sprawling out in front of him.
“Those little bastards were vicious. They did the best they could, but they still ended up fuckin’ killing each other.”
“Which goes to show what?”
“That humans will resort to animalistic tendencies if given the chance.”
You nodded, and Negan grinned.
“Did I pass? Ace your little test?”
“You did all right.”
Negan laughed.
“What about you? What did you think of the book?”
“I hated it.”
His eyes widened.
“What? How could you hate it?”
You smiled.
“I was the chubby, glasses-wearing, nerd of a kid. I empathized with Piggy, and when he died, so did my enjoyment of the book.”
“Damn.”
You nodded, still smiling as you stapled a few of the papers together. You got a little distracted by the process of stapling the papers, and when you glanced up to see Negan in front of you, you gasped. He smiled, reaching out to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear.
“I definitely don’t see a nerd now.”
“You must not be looking close enough.”
Negan laughed.
“Welcome to Alexandria Junior High, Miss Y/N. I look forward to more conversations like this.”
You could only nod as he turned and walked away, whistling a tune as he did. When he was gone, you laid a hand over your heart, breathing out a shaky breath.
“So wait, Negan came to your classroom and you literally fell into his arms?”
You smiled as you held the phone between your ear and your shoulder as you took a sip from the water bottle you’d gotten out of your refrigerator.
“Yep.”
“And then the two of you had a conversation about Lord of the Flies?”
“Yep.”
“What the hell?”
You laughed, groaning as you sat on your couch. You’d just finished your nightly gym routine, and you were sweaty and exhausted. However, you were not too exhausted to call Beth and let her know the excitement of your day.
“What did you think of him?”
“Negan?”
“No, the man in the moon. Yes, Y/N, Negan.”
You giggled, crossing your legs as you moved to lay on your back.
“He’s handsome.”
“Right? I know he’s older than we are, but come on.”
“And here I was thinking you had the hots for the archery teacher.”
“Darryl?!”
You laughed, and Beth’s sweet voice came through the speaker.
“I’ve had a crush on him for years, but I swear he’ll always see me as just Maggie’s little sister.”
“Never as Beth, the sexy blonde bombshell?”
She snorted, which sent both of you into giggles.
“Yeah, that will never happen, I’m pretty sure. You and Negan, though. That could totally happen.”
“I doubt it.”
“Why not?”
You shrugged as you picked at a piece of lint on your shirt.
“I don’t know, it … I don’t know.”
“Hey.”
You lifted your eyes, even though Beth couldn’t see you.
“Does it have something to do with why you moved here all by yourself?”
You smiled.
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
“Oh, not cool.”
You gave a quiet laugh.
“I’ll tell you one day.”
“I’ll hold you to it. Better get some sleep. First day tomorrow! You excited?”
“I actually kind of am. I’m ready for a fresh start.”
“I know what you mean. I’m always like this before the first day. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Sweet dreams, Beth.”
“You too, Y/N. Dreams of a tall, dark, and sexy baseball coach.”
“Beth!”
Her cackling was all you heard before the call ended. You rolled your eyes and shook your head, standing up from the couch and stretching from side to side. You walked to your kitchen, opening your fridge and debating on what to eat for dinner. After some leftover Chinese, you stripped and threw on an oversized t-shirt, crawling into bed and trying to ignore the nerves that were already building in your stomach.
You didn’t lift your head from the desk as a knock sounded at your door. You heard it open, but you knew all the kids had left for the day, so you weren’t too worried about who it might be. You had your suspicions, but to be completely honest, you really didn’t care if Principal Grimes himself walked in and saw you.
“Oh, no. That bad?”
You lifted your head, seeing Beth leaning back against the closed door. You sighed, putting your arms on the desk and resting your head on them.
“Fifteen kids didn’t turn in their homework. Just didn’t do it. Seven kids got up and just walked out of my last class. We’ve only been in session for three weeks, Beth. They don’t listen to me or do what they’re supposed to, and I don’t … I don’t know what to do.”
You closed your eyes, putting your forehead back on the desk behind your arms.
“I have an idea.”
You moved just enough to look at her over your arms. Beth smiled, walking to a desk and sitting on the top of the chair, her feet in the seat.
“So this may be just a rumor, or it could be true. A few years before I did my student teaching, there was an unbelievably bad class. I mean, they were borderline delinquents. Wouldn’t listen to the teachers, wouldn’t do their work. None of them cared and no one could do anything about it. One day, they’re all sitting in class and they hear this noise.”
You moved your head to rest your chin on your hands, and Beth went on.
“Negan’s got this baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire. He’d never actually use it; I guess it’s just for intimidation purposes. Anyway, he bangs the bat on the door before walking in, and he goes right to the classroom where the top instigators are. He’s got the bat on his shoulder, and the entire school is silent. He pulls the two kids out into the hall, where everyone else is peeking out of their classrooms to see what’s up, you know?”
You nodded, and Beth smiled.
“He makes the kids get on their knees and points at them with the bat, asking which one is the leader, who’s idea was it to do all the shit they’ve been doing, etc. The kids are scared out of their minds, not saying a word. So Negan takes the bat and plays “eeny, meeny, miney, moe” to try and get them to talk. I heard one of the kids pissed himself and the other one just started crying and told him everything.”
“Oh my god, that’s awful!”
Beth laughed.
“You have never seen a more well-behaved school after that. Every kid here made honor roll. They were way too scared to get on Negan’s bad side.”
She shrugged her shoulders.
“Whether Negan was the reason for the change of heart, well. Who knows? All I’m saying is, it might do some good to talk to him.”
Beth looked at her watch, then sighed.
“Shoot. I’ve got to go to the bank before it closes. I’m supposed to take up tickets at the football game. Are you working tonight?”
“Concession stand.”
She smiled.
“Good. I’ll see you there. Save me some nachos.”
You smiled as she walked out, then let out a sigh. You leaned back in your chair, absently shifting your toes from side to side, closing your eyes as you tried to relax. Another knock at the door caused you to sigh, and you lowered your head, opening your eyes.
“Am I interrupting your meditation or something?”
Your cheeks went hot when you heard Negan’s voice, and he chuckled as he walked into your room. You sighed, shaking your head.
“No, I don’t meditate. Do you?”
Negan snorted, and you smiled.
“What’s the matter, doll?”
You sighed, looking up at him as he sauntered into the room. You propped your elbow on your desk, resting your chin on your hand.
“I’m just … I don’t know if it’s because I’m new or what, but these kids are testing me. Half of them didn’t do their work, and then kids just got up and left right in the middle of me teaching.”
You shook your head, then pushed your hands through your hair. Negan smiled and walked around your desk, until he was standing behind your chair. His hands came to rest on your shoulders, and as he gave a gentle squeeze, you sat up straighter. A dark chuckle came from behind you, and you shivered when his deep, raspy voice was in your ear.
“Relax, sweetheart. Let me help you.”
You closed your eyes, letting out quiet noises as he began to knead the tension from your shoulders. You felt your body begin to relax, barely moving as Negan kept up a steady rhythm. You shivered again when his voice was at your ear.
“You know … I can think of a much better way we can get you to relax.”
“Oh, really?”
“Mm-hmm. You trust me?”
You let out a laugh that trailed into a groan.
“I don’t even know you.”
“Ain’t that part of the fun?”
You laughed again, and Negan’s voice went even lower in your ear.
“Just tell me to stop and I will.”
You felt yourself tense up again, and Negan chuckled.
“Don’t let all my hard work go to waste, doll. Relax.”
You nodded, never thinking to open your eyes. You felt the breath catch in your throat as Negan’s hands slowly slid down your arms, gasping and letting out a breathy laugh when his beard tickled your neck as his lips pressed to your skin.
“There we go.”
You couldn’t help the smile, biting your bottom lip when Negan’s hands landed at your lap, slowly tugging your dress up. When the hem was almost to the middle of your thighs, your hands shot out, grabbing hold of his wrists. He leaned over to look into your eyes, and you swallowed, speaking in a whisper.
“What if someone comes in?”
“What if I locked the door?”
You flicked your eyes that way, then back to him.
“Did you?”
A wicked grin came over his face.
“Guess you’ll have to trust me, won’t you?”
You blinked, caught in a trance, leaning back against the chair. Negan grinned again, moving closer to you.
“Atta girl.”
You turned your head slightly, seeing his face nearly on your shoulder, eyes locked onto yours. He leaned in closer, gingerly pressing his lips to yours as his hand came to rest between your thighs. You could feel the warmth of his hand seeping through the crotch of your panties, and you gasped when one of his fingers slid beneath the band.
“Negan—“
“I got you, doll.”
Your head fell back against the chair, eyes drifting closed as Negan’s finger slid up and down your increasingly damp slit. That finger brushed against your clit, then slowly—god, so slowly—pressed into you.
“God, you’re so fucking wet. Squeezing my finger so fucking tight. Bet you’d feel like heaven around my dick.”
All you could do was whimper when he began a torturously slow rhythm of pushing his long finger into you, then slowly dragging it back out. He pushed in, moving his finger around in a slow circle, brushing against one certain spot that made you jolt forward and grab hold of his wrist.
“There we go.”
You sank into him as he moved closer, pushing two fingers into you before scissoring them, constantly barely brushing against the spot.
“Come on, sweetheart. Come for me. I want you to feel you fucking come all over my fucking fingers.”
You didn’t know if it was his deep voice urging you or the motion of his fingers, but the orgasm slammed into you without warning. You reached over and grabbed his arm, digging your fingers into the thick muscle of his bicep. He let out a throaty groan, nodding his head as you rode out your orgasm on his fingers.
You slumped back against the seat, aftershocks tingling through your veins as Negan gingerly removed his fingers from you. He turned your chair until you were facing him, and you felt your face flame as he stuck his fingers into his mouth. He grinned, and you shivered at the sound of his voice.
“Sweet as candy.”
You turned your head, and Negan crouched down in front of the chair. He put his hands on your knees and you faced him, the two of you just looking at each other until he spoke, his rough voice quiet.
“Monday morning, I’ll take care of your classes.”
“You don’t have—“
“I know. But they gotta know who’s boss. They gotta abide by the rules.”
You nodded, and he reached up, tracing your jaw with a finger.
“Don’t let this get you down. Any time you need help unwinding, you just come find me, okay?”
You nodded, even as the blush colored your cheeks again. That seemed to be your natural state around Negan. He stood up, sauntering towards the door. When he reached for the doorknob, you spoke.
“Negan?”
He glanced over his shoulder, and you looked around, then met his eyes.
“Thank you.”
He laughed, flipping the lock and opening the door.
“You are fucking welcome, doll.”
#ash's 2k writing challenge#negan's thirst squad#the walking dead#negan#the walking dead negan#twd#reader insert#negan x reader#fanfiction#rachel writes in 2017#part 1#twd negan#twd reader insert
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