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hoodharlow · 3 years

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Mine

AN: bc this bitch can’t give me a minute to get my fics done, y’all are getting this instead of the workout!cal from the other day. Thank you to @cherryxwildflower for helping me with my scene, ilysm Mede 🥰🥰🥰Also pic from @calmfolklore 💕💕💕

requested? By my coochie

Warnings: jealous!Cal, smut, use of possessive language during sex, kinda rough sex???

Word Count: 2.2k words

Calum watched Claudia struggle carrying her bookbag, backpack, purse and lunch bag when she exited the middle school. It wasn’t much, but in 86℉ weather it was. He chuckled to himself as she still kept a bright smile as she passed her students. He got out and helped her with her things.

“Why am I doing this again?” She huffed when she sat in the cool car.

“For the kids.” Calum said, starting the car.

“Fuck them kids.” She grumbled.

She climbed to the backseat and rummaged through one of Calum’s duffle bags that he kept in the car for when he stayed in the studio and needed to change clothes. She grabbed his red and black striped jersey and took off the dress she wore. She also grabbed a pair of Vans she had and swapped out of her sandals. She fell off the seat as Calun did a sharp U-turn.

“Dude what the fuck!” Claudia cursed from the floor.

“Sorry, I forgot the ice cream shop you like is on the other side.” He said.

Claudia pushed herself up and got back in the front seat. She clicked her seatbelt as Calum pulled up at the front of the shop.

“I’m going to find a spot. Can you wait in line for us?”

“Yeah,” she said. Claudia leaned over and gave him a kiss.

She grabbed her wallet from her bag and hopped off the car, pulling down her biker shorts. She pulled her hair into a bun and entered the shop. She took her spot at the very back of the line. Claudia looked out the window and saw Calum’s car drive around the corner. She pulled out her phone to text him that he should stay in his car and wait for her to send him another text to come get her since there was a long line. Mid text she felt someone tap her shoulder.

“Miss. Santos, what brings you here?” It was Christian Rosas.

He was one of her co-workers at the middle school. He graduated from UCLA last year where he got his Master of Arts in Teaching for mathematics. Claudia met him on her first day when she went into the wrong wing.

“Hi Mr. Rosas.” She said. Calling each other by their last name was their inside joke because one of the other teachers claimed it was unprofessional to call each other by their first names.

They slowly fell into conversation about school and how the heat is getting to the students. Claudia’s message to Calum was long forgotten until she saw him enter the shop. He approached her.

“I was gonna text you but I ran into Christian.” Claudia said, reaching for his hand. She turned to Christian. “This is my boyfriend Calum and this is Christian. He’s one of the other teachers that works with me.”

“Nice to meet you.” Calum said politely.

He extended his hand out to shake Claudia’s co-worker, but he dropped it when the guy left him hanging. He was iced out by the guy. He took all of her attention while he trailed behind them. If someone saw them they would think that the guy and Claudia were dating and not Calum and her. She was too busy talking to the guy that he ended up ordering. He stood off to the side and read over the band’s group chat.

"Are you in grad school too?" The guy asked Calum.

"No." He said, looking up from his phone.

"So you're done with school?" He pressed.

"No, I didn't go to college." Calum said curtly.

"Oh."

Calum knew that tone and it made him feel inferior. Like his success wasn’t equivalent to someone who got an education. Even more when it was said in front of Claudia. It always made him feel less intelligent when someone pointed out that she has a college education and he doesn’t. Like he doesn't deserve someone like her.

He focused on his phone and barely heard Claudia tell the guy that he’s a successful musician. He didn’t hear what the guy said, but he could tell it wasn’t good from the face Claudia made. Luckily their order was ready.

Claudia handed Calum the box of paletas while she took her nieve flotante de limon and Calum’s diablito. She ignored Christian when he bid her goodbye.

The pair quietly entered the car and were on their way home. Fortunately there wasn’t traffic and they made it home in less than half an hour. Calum angrily entered the house, placed the paletas in the freezer and locked himself in his home studio. Claudia awkwardly stood outside of his home studio and knocked.

“I have your ice cream.” She said, offering him his diablito when he opened the door.

“Thanks.” he said, taking it. “I’m going to work for a bit. Then I’ll order some dinner.”

“Okay.” She nodded. “Listen Cal, what Christian said about—”

“I have some work to do.”

***

The next few hours were silent. Calum was still in his home studio. Claudia heard him playing his bass. It wasn’t actual music, it was more of him just taking his anger out on the bass. She knew Christian’s comment upset him thus upsetting her.

No one has the right to diminish Calum’s success to nothing. She’s seen him work hard for almost two years. He’s one of the most successful people she’s ever met. She admired him for his determination and drive. Hearing her co-worker say that being a musician isn’t going to take him far pissed her off.

She finished her grading and went upstairs to shower. She emerged from the bathroom, refreshed and with her mind somewhat at ease. She grabbed a pair of black lace panties from her drawer and pushed the sliding door of their walk-in closet open. She looked through some hangers with some of Calum’s t-shirts and tugged one off. It was black with a skeleton dunking around a circle of fire.

She sniffed into the collar, surprised that it didn’t smell like him. She went to a small shelf where he had all of his colognes and spritzed her favorite one all over the shirt.

Claudia skipped down stairs and settled in the living room. Duke crawled to her chest and curled up on her. They both decided to watch 102 Dalmatians. They were at the part when Spot flew away with a puppet in balloons when she decided to get a paleta.

Calum emerged from his home studio and stood in the kitchen in nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants.

“I’m gonna order. Do you have— Is that my shirt?” Calum said, cutting himself off.

“Duh,” she said before sucking down her paleta. “I found it in the closet.”

“Don’t you have your own clothes to wear?” He snapped, taking a few steps to her.

“You’re kidding me right?” She scoffed sarcastically. “Is this really coming from the guy who begs me to wear his clothes? Since when is me wearing your clothes such a big deal?”

“Claudia, I just bought it. I haven’t even worn it.” He argued. His hand tugged the bottom of the shirt, pulling her to him. “That’s my shirt. Mine.”

Claudia swallowed hard. It was rare for Calum to use that tone on her. She can count the times he's used it in one hand, but nonetheless it left her dripping with desire. She met his gaze and smiled sweetly at him.

“Then take it off me.”

Calum towered over her and took her paleta, tossing it in the sink. Before she could make a comment, he grabbed her face and kissed her. They moaned into each other’s mouths, tasting the sweet chile and chamoy on their tongues. Without breaking their kiss, he grabbed the back of her thighs and picked her up, sitting her on the counter.

He slowly pushed the t-shirt up her body, kissing up her body. Claudia wordlessly lifted her hands up as he continued to slowly remove the shirt. He swiftly tugged it off and took a step back to drop his sweats. He reached for Claudia’s panties and pulled them down her legs.

They resumed their kissing. Calum pressed his hips into hers. Claudia let out a soft gasp of pleasure. He pulled away and thrusted into her once again, earning louder sounds from her.

He stroked his length a few times then coated himself with Claudia’s arousal. He placed one of her legs over his shoulder and slid into her.

Claudia nails dig into Calum’s biceps as he pounded into her. He took her rough and possessively. She knew Calum was in a mood where he just needed her to know she was his and only his. And she let him. She didn't mind it. She knew he needed some quick way to distract himself with whatever was on his mind.

He snapped his hips, burying himself deep into her with every thrust. It didn’t take long for Claudia to come. She chanted his name and wrapped her legs tighter around him, wanting to feel all of him. She rested her head on his chest and closed her eyes.

“Can you take another?” Calum asked her.

“Yeah.” she nodded, breathless.

Calum pulled out of her and carried her to the couch. He laid her down and patted the couch

“Hands and knees.”

Claudia nodded and knelt in front of one of the arm chairs. She felt his hand on her back, gently pushing her over the armrest. He leaned forward and kissed up her neck.

“This is to remind you you're mine.” He whispered in her ear. “Ready?”

Claudia nodded eagerly. She looked over her shoulder and pulled him into a kiss. Without breaking their kiss, she turned her whole body so she was laying down. Before she did anything else, he grabbed her and draped over the armrest like she was seconds ago. He shoved himself in one satisfying thrust.

Calum pulled out and pushed himself in her once more. His hands gripped her waist as he slowly rocked into her. He twisted his shirt around his hand, using it so Claudia could stay up right. As the minutes passed, his thrusts got rougher, and Claudia couldn’t hold back. She begged Calum to keep fucking her at that deliciously slow and rough pace she loved. He leaned over his chest against her back.

“Fuck.” Calum moaned out.

His lips kissed all over her neck as he continued to fuck Claudia. She rocked back against him, meeting his thrusts.

“That’s it, take me so good, pretty girl.” He groaned in her ear. Calum shifted his hips as he thrusted into her. The new angle he was fucking her made her beg for him.

“Tell me I’m yours, Cal.” She moaned. “Please, fuck—”

“Shit.” He groaned.

“Cal, please tell me.” She cried

“You’re mine, Claudia. Is that what you want to hear? You’re mine.”

“Yes!” she nodded.

She pushed back rougher to meet his thrusts. He gripped her hips with one hand while the other went back down to her clit. Calum worked his fingers roughly as he pushed his hips into Claudia.

He buried his face in her neck, kissing her sweet spot. She quietly whimpered his name, lazily meeting his thrusts before her orgasm took over. Calum’s orgasm followed soon after. He cried her name and pushed himself deep inside Claudia, spilling every last drop in her.

“I love you so much, Claudia.” Calum mumbled against her lips.

“I love you too,” Claudia giggled, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

Calum grabbed a blanket from behind the couch and covered them. They laid in silence, exhausted. Claudia ran her fingers over his blonde curls.

“Were you upset with what Christian said?” She asked him quietly.

“No.” He said, sitting up. “If I’m being honest, I think I was just jealous of him. Not because of his looks or whatever, seeing you laugh at your inside jokes made me feel left out. Then I got over it because I’m the one who gets to hear you come undone… What did he say?”

Claudia rolled her eyes. “He thinks you’re just starting out in music and implied that you’re not going to make it. Like, hello, you’re Calum-fucking-Hood. You have four albums out and working on your fifth one. You have tons of hits and you tour around the world playing sold out shows.”

“He kinda has a point. I mean, he has a degree and I don’t. What if something happens to the band, and I can’t make more music and tour? I would be fucked because I don’t have a degree or whatever to fall back on. Then I wouldn’t have money to support us.” He shrugged.

“I mean yeah, but that doesn’t matter to me.” She said. “If shit hits the fan then we can just open a dispensary and I’ll bake edibles.”

“You’re right,” he chuckled. He got up from the couch. “I gotta do something real quick.”

Claudia gave him a confused face as he went to the kitchen and grabbed the shirt and his sweatpants. She trailed behind him and slipped on her panties. She got even more confused when he stopped out on the patio and started taking selfies. She watched him grab his bucket hat off the table and snapped a few more pictures. After he typed on his phone and took off the shirt. He went inside and handed her his shirt.

“Here you go,” he said, kissing her head. He leaned down and whispered, “tonight you’re riding me with this on.”

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conscious-love · 3 years

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The Foolproof Way to Know You Are Lovable

By Rachel Cole

When I was in graduate school one of my assigned texts was Emotional Alchemy by Tara Bennett-Goleman. In it, Bennett-Goleman, offers up a way for us to work with our maladaptive thought patterns which she calls “schemas.” Among the schemas she identifies are:

Deprivation: “the belief that one’s needs won’t be met.”

Subjugation: “the belief that in an intimate relationship one’s own needs never take priority.”

Mistrust: “people can’t be trusted.”

Unlovability: “the sense of being somehow flawed and unworthy of being loved.”

She says “The paradox is that schemas revolve around compelling needs but lead us to think and act in ways that keep those needs from being fulfilled.”

When I read about the unlovability schema it was like I was reading about me — like she was writing just for me. At that point I’d spent most of my life with a deep, yet vague, belief that I was unlovable. Despite growing up in a loving two-parent home. Despite self-identifying as a strong, self-assured, smart woman. Despite the fact that many people loved me… I felt, at my core, unlovable, not enough, and that I was too much.

Little did I know then that most other people, at least in the Western world, shared my predicament.

Is this you too?

If it is, I want you to know that it’s entirely possible to wake up from this illusion and it doesn’t have to take a lifetime. I use the term illusion because that’s what it is – a mirage that looks and feels as real as real can be, and yet it’s a trick of the eye. You can come to know beyond all truths that you need not change one thing about yourself to be worthy of love.

Here’s how I did it:

I fiercely practiced loving myself. Every day. When it was hard. When it was easy. With teachers. On my own. When I was skinny. When I wasn’t skinny. When I was single. When I was partnered. When I was employed. When I was unemployed. When I felt radiant. When I felt wretched. I committed to opening my heart to myself through it all.

“Once upon a time a girl prayed for true love. Her prayer was answered. She learned to love herself.” - Monique Duval

It wasn’t overnight. It wasn’t the result of one healer or one book.

It was cumulative the way that Michael Phelps became a gold medal swimmer not in one summer, but over countless hours in the pool over many years.

So, how does loving ourselves show us that we’re lovable by others?

Because if we can love ourselves, it goes without saying that someone else can.

If we don’t love ourselves, how can we possibly trust that another can?

It’s like a mathematical proof. If X is true then Y must also be true.

X is whether we love ourselves unconditionally.

Y is whether another can love us this way.

If X is true then Y must also be true.

Similarly, I believe it defies the laws of physics for a person to be simultaneously not enough and too much. I realized at some point that I couldn’t be both and that’s how I knew what I felt was a misconception.

On a recent episode of Oprah’s Lifeclass Martha Beck wisely shared that “the most judgmental thing you think about the thing you’re most ashamed of is the lie that is most holding you back… Find the place where you are most ashamed… Opposite of that statement is the best truth for setting you free now.”

Back then my most judgemental belief was that I wasn’t lovable. The thing I was most ashamed of was my ‘not enoughness/too muchness’.

It wasn’t true. Not then. Not ever. So I set about setting myself free.

Do not wait for another to show you that you are enough. You will die waiting. It will never, ever, ever work. When we look to another for confirmation of our own enoughness, there will always be uncertainty in the back of our minds. We can never trust another’s love if our own foundation is shaky.

I like to think that this is fantastic news!

While we don’t have control over others, we do have domain over ourselves and our lives. We can commit to this practice. We can live ourselves into the awakening and awareness of our innate lovabilty and enoughness. This is also fantastic news because experience shows us that people treat us like we treat ourselves.

A final note on how I define love:

In this world there is big love (not of the HBO polygamy variety) and there is small love. Big love is ever expansive, making room for all that arises. Big love is unconditional. Big love is that of a mother to her newborn baby. Big love receives life and us with open arms. Small love, which we see and experience all too often, lives on the surface. Small love likes it when things go it’s way and moves on when things don’t. Small love has an agenda and a host of preconceived ideas about how things (and you) should be.

When I talk about loving ourselves, I’m talking about big love.

How do I know beyond a doubt that I’m lovable? Because I love myself. Therefore it must be possible.

Want to know if you’re lovable? Set about proving it to yourself from within. Start now.

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sorryimanon · 4 years

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Character: Katsuki Bakugou

Parings: Bakugou x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, characters are in their third year.

Word Count: 5.4K

The two honor students of UA so happen to be childhood enemies. During the succession that is exams, Y/N is determined to beat Bakugou.

Exam season has commenced on the campus of U.A. Students woke up in a frenzied state, slightly nervous to the late night studying they’ll endure for the weeks to come. Not enough caffeine can energize them to be in complete motivation mode. A couple of students have taken the leisure of paying those to exchange notes, considering most of the questions will be going over every little detail in each subject. The exams don’t begin till next week, but a few of the honor students have already hit the books, not once indulging in a break or two till the sun sets. One of those students just so happen to be you, an inspiring young hero with the hunger for being on top of everything. Ever since middle school, teachers would constantly praise you on your performance during tests. It was no surprise to anyone when you aced the entrance exam to U.A, a remarkable score leading you closer to reaching your dream. Although your scores on every test was superb, someone else would occasionally steal the spotlight with by topping your score. That person in particular has been tailing behind you ever since middle school, another honor student who also attends U.A as well. Did you mention he also is in the same hero course as you?

Katsuki Bakugou is his name. A name that burns the tip of your tongue whenever you gave roll call alongside Iida. The man is a ball of pure fury. He exuded nothing but anger and hostility whenever he’s in a room. Despite his aggressive exterior, Katsuki is an avid academic student who manages to score excellent grades in each of his classes. For the past 3 years of attending U.A, you two are considered the star studded scholars, never once failing a test, midterm, pop quiz , you name it! Now with your hero course almost coming to an end, you were determined to at least score the highest result this exam season, leaving Bakugou in the dust with his inadequate score. Maybe have him crying in the corner would suffice the drawn out rivalry you two established. No one verbally said it was an all out war between you two, but everytime those test results are posted on the board, everyone steered clear for the both of you to silently react. Everyone awaits for the day when one of you finally snaps and start clawing at each other. But alas, only the mere exchange of a side eye and a curt nod. Deep down you do want to slap the smirk that always resides on his face during those moments, showing him you weren’t just going to let him win by smarts.

That’s why now you sit alone on the cushioned couch in the commons area, books sprawled around you like a protective barrier. You had your eyes glued to a textbook about the history of quirks and their physiology, a class in which you needed to spend studying the most for. It’s been a a few hours into your little study session, and you were beginning to feel the drag of how much you needed to actually work on. All this including your current homework and your mandatory internship studies at an agency. It was all too much to handle. So, maybe you do deserve a break.

Pushing the book aside, you stretched out your cramped up arms and sigh in relief. In the corner of your eye you spot a familiar head of ashy blonde walking into the commons room, books and notebooks crammed into his armpit while holding what seems to be an energy drink. Your eye twitched watching him plop down onto the couch across from you, never once paying attention to your presence. Katsuki then rests his bare feet on the wooden coffee table, opening one of his textbooks with the swipe of his thump. For some odd reason, this really riled you up. And it was clear Katsuki noticed too.

“Am I bothering you? Hm?” He smugly asked, eyes not wavering from the text before him.

You scoffed.

“No. Just, don’t speak while I’m trying to study okay?”

He clicked his tongue at you.

“Doesn’t seem like you’re studying to me. Looks like you’ve given up already. What gives?”

His comment made you even angrier.

“Given up? Kacchan, you’ve barely started.”

Looking up, you can see a faint vein forming against the temple of his forehead. His fists clenched tightly, crumpling the sides of the textbook. His eyes now were averted to yours. The crimson death glare, you’d call it.

“I was training with Kirishima, dumbass. So of course I couldn’t hop onto my studies earlier,” he started. Katsuki opens his energy drink with one finger, the pop of the air leaving the can satisfying to your ears, and took a swing of it. “Also, don’t ever fucking call me that. If I hear it from your mouth again I won’t hesitate to use my quirk on you.”

An intriguing idea. Usually you’d be the one to threaten your enemy, but Katsuki like always beat you to the punch.

“No thanks, I’d rather be harassed by grape juice than be blasted from the likes of you,” the taunt in your voice triggered something within Katsuki, causing him to tense up in pure anger. “Besides, I’m planning on studying all day till my eyes fall out. So don’t expect me to leave this spot.”

His smirk was soon on full display, uncrossing his legs to lean forward so he can rest his elbow on his knee.

“Oh really? Just so you know we have an early training tomorrow in preparation for our final exam. Wouldn’t want ya to, cha know, fail?” He didn’t even sound slightly concern for yourself and your future study habits, you can tell he wishes for you to fuck up your sleeping schedule to miss the important training in the morning.

“I have an alarm set on my phone so I don’t miss my beauty rest. Wouldn’t want to pass up the opportunity of kicking your ass tomorrow,” you held your mobile device triumphantly, waving it back and forth to mock him.

With the roll of his eyes, Katsuki returned back to his studies, leaving you to sadly resume as well. Before he entered the commons area, you were about to head into your dorm room to take a nap, but now you were obligated to stay put without letting him think you’re already burnt out.

Silently, you both continued on with the unspoken competition.

Evening struck quicker than you expected, cascading the soft glow of the painted sky through the windows, illuminating both you Katsuki in a pink hue. Thankfully, Katsuki took your words into consideration and never spoke to you during the session, giving you an easy feeling of relaxation without him making it another competition.

Already you finished your notes for advance foreign language, quirk physiology, and mathematics. So far, you were ahead of everyone else, with the exception of Katsuki. Occasionally, you’d catch yourself glancing over at him working intensively in his small corner, highlighting and jotting down every minuscule detail in his notebook. This was your first time witnessing how Katsuki studies. To your disappointment, his regime was nothing out of the ordinary. Then how the fuck does he manage to score high grades? It simply baffled you.

A stampede of footsteps was to be heard coming from the hallway leading to the commons area. After what seems to be years, you cranked your head away from your notebook to see Kirishima and the rest of the gang marching towards the direction of both you and Katsuki, who was currently shooting daggers at the group of friends. The red head was the first to speak out of the four of them.

“Aye Bakubro! Wanna skip the studying for a little and eat with us at NoodleShop?” His smile gleamed brightly, showcasing his shark incisors.

“Y/N you too! Come join us. I’ll pay!” Mina chimed in.

Noodles sounded pretty appetizing right about now. You skipped out on lunch, too engrossed on the idea of getting a head start for the exams. Now you regret the decision of leaving your stomach on empty.

But you still had so much left to do. And knowing Katsuki’s competitive nature, he wasn’t going to move an inch from his spot.

“It’s okay Mina, I uh- already ate a big meal awhile ago,” you dismissed her, patting your belly to show you were indeed, full.

As if on cue, a loud growl erupted from the depths of your stomach, the noise reverberating across the soundless space. Denki and Sero both snickered.

To your amazement, Katsuki got up from the couch and trailed over to the group, slipping on his red hoodie that was draped on the arm rest. He took a quick glimpse at you and smirked over his shoulder.

“Watch my things for me will ya, extra?” And with that they all left the area as a group.

You huffed in defeat and stared back at your jumbled pile of notes, the writing transcending from neat to sloppy text. At least you don’t have an explosive blonde sharing the same air as you for now. You reached into your bag and grabbed another textbook, this one being more heftier than the others.

“Oh well, more time for studying...” you said to yourself as you skimmed through the pages of Hero First Aid: Volume 6.

The beautiful spring sky soon was replaced by the expanse of darkness, the twinkle of the bright stars catching your eyes. The moon alone helped cast a sheen of light, allowing you to work in the dimly lit up space. Bakugou didn’t return to retrieve his stuff, all of which were sat untouched in a hasty mess. You figure him and the rest of the gang would have been back on campus by now, but everyone in class 1-A have locked themselves in their dorms since lights out will commence in a few. Aizawa has yet to prohibit you from staying past the curfew. As long as you don’t go running among the halls like a lunatic and stay strictly to studying, he’s all game. And that’s exactly what you did.

A couple of students murmured as they passed by you, saying things like “Does she ever have a life” or “All she does is study...no wonder no one has asked her out yet”. As much as the comments sting, you knew they weren’t true to your heart. Last year, someone in class 2-B formally asked you to the dance. To their dismay, you rejected them on the spot. Only because you didn’t have time to date or talk romantically with anyone. It’s a distraction to both your education and future career.

Okay, so maybe they were partially correct. At least you had your first kiss before entering U.A? But the person who stole your kiss was obligated to do so, after being dared by their fellow acquaintances. Nothing more beyond that have you explored with another person.

Submerged in your own thoughts, you didn’t notice the presence of the angry blonde, hands stuffed in the pockets of his hoodie as he strolled to the couch that had all his materials. He began to gather his things when suddenly he freezes, remembering what you said about not moving an inch from your spot. He’s astonished to see you cemented on the same couch, in the same position, notes blanketing your thighs along with the pile books pooling at the edge.

You really are determined to beat him, he thought. Bakugou can’t deny he’s impressed with your ambition and drive to be the best among your peers, even if that means sacrificing basic human needs. Like food and sleep.

Although, looking at you right now in this state, with your eyes threatening to close shut, mouth slightly agape, and hair bunched up in a tight knot, it’s clear you were exhausted. He spoke without realizing it.

“Hey dumbass! The fuck you still doing here, huh? It’s almost lights out.”

His brooding voice startled you awake, causing the papers on your lap to spill on the carpeted floor. Bakugou coughed out a low chuckle, amused by how the mere sound of his voice scares you.

“Oh it’s just you,” you said, disregarding how that could easily irritate him.

“Yeah, it’s me. Anyway you should be getting rest. You’re smart enough to know that, idiot.”

Even though it was a subtle backhanded compliment, you couldn’t help but to appreciate him acknowledging your intellect.

“I can’t. I have to go over my flash cards for mathematics and then finish this week’s homework for tomorrow—.”

“Holy fucking shit shut up. Don’t you realize what you’re doing to yourself right now?” When you didn’t answer, Bakugou slapped his forehead. “You’re gonna burn yourself out dumbass! Then you won’t have any motivation left to study for when the exams are actually starting.”

Stunned, you watch as Bakugou stomps over to where you’re sitting at, crimson eyes never leaving yours. He then props his leg on the cushion next to your trembling thighs, out stretching his arm to grab ahold of something. Too focused on the proximity between you two, it didn’t register that he swiped your flash cards from your hands. What is wrong with him? Does he want to sabotage you this badly before exams?

“Bakugou! Give those back! I need them for my exam on Monday!” you ignored how whiny you sounded, not wanting to give Katsuki the satisfaction he thinks he deserves.

“You really think whining like a bitch will make me hand these over? Think again, dumb-.”

You cut him off with a surprise attack, shoving his entire body to the ground with the force of yours. Bakugou’s arms were pinned above him as you tried to pry the flash cards from his death grip on them. Stubbornly, he wiggles his body to keep you from reaching his arms, almost knocking you off his torso like a bull. Looking down, both of you were in a compromising position. Straddling his hips while he laid lifelessly underneath you, panting like a feral dog. You tried to keep the heat from spreading throughout your body as you felt his groin rub against your sex, but failed tremendously when he can obviously see the prominent blush creeping on your cheeks.

“What the fuck was that all about?! Why are you so adamant about beating me so much!” He yelled directly in your face.

A question that neither of you knew the answer to. Why were you so determined to destroy Bakugou? Shouldn’t a fellow honor student be happy that another is also making their education a main priority? Or maybe there is another underlying reason, something deeper under the dermis of your skin that you couldn’t quite reach.

You further the distance away from his face by leaning backwards, eventually hitting the front of his thighs and kneecaps.

“You don’t understand. I have to be good at everything. I need this in order to be the hero I’ve been wanting to be. Even if that means neglecting my own needs...” you paused, unsure if Bakugou was even listening anymore. “That is, until you came along and ruined everything.”

“Hah?!” His reaction was incredulous.

“Don’t “Hah” me! It’s been your plan all along since middle school to top me at everything. So why me?!”

“Well maybe it’s because I’ve always looked up to you dumbass! Have you ever considered that!”

The words tumbled out of his throat as if he’s been holding off on the sentiment. Bakugou Katsuki, the abrasive yet studious boy, just so happens to admire you? Never it occurred to you that maybe, just maybe, you also strived to be the absolute best solely because of him. The way he strides into a battle with confidence, not an ounce of doubt that he’ll lose. His diabolical strategies that somehow works out in the end. Or the way how underneath that rough exterior, he believes he’ll be the one left climbing to the top, along with his peers. It’s his sticky pride that kept the rivalry between you two so alive. But was it really a rivalry after all this time?

Eyes widen at the confession, you stay frozen on his lap, fingers bunching up the top half of his hoodie. The silence broke Katsuki. For once, he wanted you to at least admit it, that you were also in the same boat as he is right now. So, he hesitantly reaches out and rests his palm against your flushed face, basking in at your sudden reaction to him touching you.

“Why does everything have to be a competition between us?” His soft spoken voice was uncharacteristic for him, you were so used to his gravelly tone after years of being the victim to it.

You felt the traces of his warm finger tips tickling lines on your outer cheek, as if he’s done this before.

“Isn’t that our dynamic? Competitive enemies?” The comment made him quirk an eyebrow at you.

“Enemies? You were never one in my eyes in the first place...” He trailed off, getting distracted by how close you’ve gotten to his face. To his lips.

“Then, what am I to you?” you leaned in closer, hoping to catch a glimpse of something in his eyes. You took notice that his pupils were dilated, making his eyes darker than usual. The hand rubbing lines on your cheek snaked around behind your head, taking full comfort on the base of your neck. The feeling was quite foreign to you. How long you yearned till days on end for someone to touch you tenderly like this. Especially from someone like Katsuki Bakugou.

“Does this answer your question.” Was all he said before smashing his lips to mount yours, the sudden contact making you shiver in his arms.

You felt him breathe out in surprise against your mouth when you took the initiative by swiping your tongue on his bottom lip. The kiss was exquisitely slow and intense. So intense that Bakugou forgot where he even was at the moment, too engulfed at the texture of your tongue asking for entrance. The fingers digging into the back of your neck started to hurt, but you didn’t mind the pain, the pleasure overwhelming all your senses. You can hear the harsh undertones of his breathing every time you slightly moved the lower half of your body.

“Stop moving, idiot,” he said breathlessly.

He knew he was fucked by seeing the smirk forming on your lips.

“Oh, you mean like this?” You then grind your hips in a harsh motion, relishing in the bashful look on Katsuki’s face.

He let his hands go freely, attaching themselves on both sides of your hips, grounding you to stop altogether. He sat in an upright position, encasing you between his legs and hard chest, your legs wrapping around his torso. Any other time it’d be comforting, but right now you felt like a bird trapped in a cage.

“Who knew the good girl would be so disobedient? Kind of hot not gonna lie.” He bent his head to where it was directly hovering over the sensitive spot on your collarbone. “Even when we’re just making out, you have to make everything a goddamn competition huh?”

A gasp left your throat once his tongue licked a clean strip on the surface. He chuckled, loving the feeling of you squirming in his muscular arms and continued the attack on your skin. His feather-like kisses switched to full on feverish sucking and biting. He proceeded to suck on the area, letting go with a definite ‘pop’, then returned back by making out on the bruised skin.

The combination of his tongue, the death grip on your hip, and the bulge protruding from his loose sweatpants was too much stimulation already. Before you knew it, Katsuki abruptly stood up from the floor, along with you, and placed you back on the plush couch. Your legs were wide open, giving him a good view of your white panties beneath the school skirt. You clamped your legs together after seeing the blonde lick his lips at the sight.

“D-Don’t be such a pervert,” you squeaked out.

That didn’t stop him from slipping his hand in between the crack of your legs, spreading them wider than before.

“Stop lying to yourself. You’ve imagined me between these thighs haven’t you?” The silence following his question was enough to suffice him. “Such a naughty girl.” Those crimson eyes stared straight ahead as he tugged your panties down a notch.

Here?! Right now? Why couldn’t he reside both of you in his dorm? It was literally at the end of the hallway. Plus, the thought of your teacher, Aizawa, catching you would be mortifying.

Your hand quickly latched itself around Katsuki’s forearm, halting him from proceeding his lustrous actions.

“What are you doing?! We could get caught you idiot!”

Katsuki grins and says, “You’re right. We need to find a way to shut you up.” Without preamble, he practically ripped the thin panties with sheer ferocity, causing you to yelp. You were about to scold him for ruining your favorite pair when said panties got shoved into your open mouth. “Remember, don’t want to get us caught right? Now be the good girl like you are and stay quiet for me.” Obediently you nodded at his order and prayed that whatever he’s going to do to you won’t be too much.

Katsuki hummed, obviously pleased at how well you’re going along with this. He wonders how far you’ll go till you break. With the swipe of his tongue, Katsuki dragged it up and down on the opening of your drenched sex. You mewled at the new sensation, legs already trembling as he his own salvia covered your folds. He bit and nibbled on the sweet spot, the clit, and lapped a few lazy strokes with his pointer finger in circular motions. Before you could stop him, he inserted the lubricant finger into your hole slowly, pumping it a couple of times to get you loosened up. Muffled moans perked up the ears of Katsuki. Looking up, he saw the beautiful sight of your eyes rolled behind your head along with the familiar tint of red on your cheeks. Just like the secretive slut you truly are, you swayed your hips to create more friction. Katsuki acknowledged your needy movements and dipped his head between your legs again, returning back to kissing your sex open mouthed. The lewd noises of him sucking on your wetness elicited a long drawn out moan from you, making Katsuki’s own cock twitch at the glorious sound.

“You’re so fucking cute like this. Almost coming from just my tongue and fingers. Fucking slut,” he said between suctions. “God, what were we thinking...we could’ve just resolved our issues like this every time.”

You grabbed a handful of his spiked up hair and raised his head away from your lower region. While doing so, you spit out the soaked clothed panty from your mouth, letting it drift off to the floor.

“Just s-shut up and do something about m-me,” you manage to croak out. You flicked your eyes on Katsuki and to the hand buried inside your skirt.

“Ah, want more than just my fingers? Could’ve just said so. Why are you being so quiet with your needy demands, babe?”

This newfound nickname plucked a heart sting within you. You shook off his snarky comment and stood up from the couch. If it’s a competition he wants, then it’s a competition he’ll get.

“Take off your pants and sit on the couch.”

Craning his head back, his own roar of a laughter bounced across the quiet room. Laughter dying down, his expression changed seeing how serious you actually were.

“Tch. Whatever you say dumbass. Don’t want you to explode on me now.”

He did as you said and removed the article of clothing, leaving him in nothing but his red boxer briefs. The bulge grew bigger the longer you stared at it. He laid back on the plush cushion and rested his arms behind his head.

“Alright, I’m waiting Y/N,” he taunted you.

One by one, you unbutton your school uniform and let it fall off your shoulders, along with your plaid skirt pooling at your ankles. Arms crossed on your chest you tower over Katsuki, who was surprisingly not staring at your goods, but your eyes. Beckoning you forward with his glare, you straddle him immediately, hands resting on his broad shoulders.

My, all these years of being in the same class and never once did you take advantage of appreciating how chiseled he looked in his hero costume. Sometimes you’d glance his way or pretend to be busy, but really, you wanted to see him in action. The way how his muscles would contract with each swing or punch. It was enough to make a girl swoon. Now you were swooning for sure. On his lap to be precise.

“Oi, you gonna do something nerd? My cock isn’t going to finish off itself.” His voice snapped you back to reality.

It took a few minutes, but you were finally hovering over the tip of his throbbing member, the glistening of his pre-cum coating your fingers. You teased him by rubbing just the tip against your entrance, lubricating the member even more. He tried to muffle his whines, but failed tremendously after feeling his tip graze your sex. Both of you were heavily now, anticipation radiating off of your sweaty bodies. Tenderly, you kissed him open mouth while sheathing yourself on his cock.

“Holy shit, holy fuck fuck fuck,” the vulgar words spilled from his mouth against yours as you bottomed out. You stayed in that position. Still unsure what to do and what you got yourself into. Pretty sure you’re torturing Katsuki by the minute.

“F-Fucking move," He growled in your ear.

Leaning in closer you whisper, “You have to beg for it then.” You nibbled the loose skin on the bottom of his ear and tugged it gently.

“Hell no! God-fucking-damnit don’t make this a competition right now Y/N.” The palm of his abnormally large hand pushed your face away from his. You giggled.

“C’mon Bakugou, there’s no harm in it. Just say please?”

“Fuck you shitty woman...”

“That’s not begging,” you pouted.

He pursed his lips. Bakugou admittedly is getting more turned on by the minute, and not just because you were practically inside him.

“P-Please fucking move. I w-want you to fuck me so bad you have no idea. Please Y/N...”

Smiling, you raised your hips to where the veins on the side of his member scraped the walls within you. It made your cunt twitch in pure ecstasy. Slowly, you lowered yourself back down, only this time you weren’t stagnant. You repeated the same vertical movements, clashing your hips with his. Bakugou titled his head back on the couch, degrading sentiments leaving his mouth as his hands grasped the sweaty flesh of your ass, squeezing it harshly every time you bounced on his dick. The tip of his member taking your breath away as it prodded the spongy walls.

“Yes- oh fuck yes. Ngh, keep doing that. Yeah like that. Hah-fuck, don’t stop,” he said between the constant panting.

Due to your rapid bouncing, your boobs were flailing in the air, occasionally hitting Bakugou in the face. Katsuki took matters into his own hands and latched his mouth around one of your perked nipples. You squealed at the sudden sensation.

“B-Bakugou...don’t do that...it’ll make me come faster,” you moaned as he grazed his teeth on your taut nipple.

For revenge, he tugged back the areola till it reached a few centimeters from your chest. Painful yes, but you couldn’t deny it felt amazing. He quickly let go and returned to sucking on the tit, lathering it up with his own spit. All the while you were riding him till the muscles and tendons in your legs gave out. Steadying your hands on his shoulders, you grounded on your knees to give yourself a better leverage. Feeling touch starved, Bakugou shoved your hands from his shoulders and laced his fingers between them. Like a missing puzzle piece, you fit in perfectly with him. Everything about you was perfection. You defined it. Sitting here watching as you take him well, physically or not, he was completely enamored by the mere sight of you. He craned his head to brush just the tip of your nose. A nose he unmistakably mentally captured because he loved the feature so much.

Although, he couldn’t think straight after that once you bottomed out again and rolled your hips in tune to his panting. You made a mess out of the aggressive blonde. Each time you swayed your body to the side he’d grunt out a low moan, trying to contain his usual loud profanities from waking up your classmates. Bakugou reached down and teasingly rubbed the sensitive bud, getting revenge for all the times you’ve pissed him off. Under your breath, you moaned out his last name.

“Say my name,” he grunted, hands continuing to expertly work on you from below.

Confused, you obeyed and moaned, “Bakugou!”

Suddenly, a painful sting sparked throughout your lower back. Eyes glued shut due to the searing pain, you whimper feeling a calloused hand smooth over the spot on your ass.

Katsuki spanked you. And you liked it.

“My actual name, dumbass. I wanna hear it coming from your mouth.”

With a thrust, you continue moving up and down on his cock, never once missing a beat.

“K-...Katsuki. Katsuki-Katsuki...” his name sounded ethereal, as if he was a higher being.

Katsuki returned the favor and fisted your hair in a tight knot, your scalp screaming at how harsh he was pulling.

“That’s a good girl.”

With a playful slap to your behind, Katsuki roughly shoves you to mount his lips again. Lips parted, both of your tongues twisted against each other, sharing a decent amount of saliva. He slipped out and pecked your lips a few times before biting down on your bottom lip. It didn’t hurt like all the times he inflicted pain on you previously. But this time you swore you felt the trickle of blood trailing down to your chin. The coppery taste infiltrating your taste buds only increased your arousal. What a masochist.

Bakugou noticed the pacing of your movements decreasing, indicating you are already feeling worn out, and steadied his hands onto your hips.

“Just let me do the work here, dumbass,” he said as he thrusted sharply into your womb, causing you to whimper into his neck. “I’ll take good care of you. You deserve a break from studying after all.”

You woke up feeling dizzy and fatigued, body aching from your toes to your head. From what you can remember, you were in the middle of studying when...

Katsuki happened.

Then you realized you weren’t in the commons area anymore. Somehow, you were laying in a medium sized bed, covers strewn over your naked body, along with a muscular arm draped across your torso. To your side you can see a passed out Katsuki snoring quietly into his pillow. Even when he’s asleep, he still looks angry.

Jolting upright, you carefully pry his arm from your body. No prevail. He’s got a strong hold on you.

He shuffled in his sleep and tightened his grip around you.

“Mmm...not leaving...stay a little longer,” he mumbled.

You rolled your eyes. “We both can’t walk out of your dorm in the morning. People will get suspicious of us. Not to mention Aizawa,” you retorted back.

“Oh? Don’t like the idea of ‘us’ huh? That’s not what you said last night.”

You didn’t need to look to know he was wearing his infamous shit eating smirk.

“Shut up.”

For the first time you heard Katsuki genuinely laugh without forcing it. You looked over and saw his eyes wide open now, staring at nothing but you.

“Whatever, you love me Y/N.”

“I DO NOT!”

Grabbing your face with his rough hands, he pressed a tender kiss to your lips.

“Go to fucking sleep nerd, we have a pre-exam in a few hours.”

(You can obviously tell I got lazy at the end LMFAO. This has been in my drafts for a LONG time. Also, this isn’t edited so please excuse the horrendous text that is this post. Xoxo)

#bakugou smut #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou headcanons #bakugou imagine #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x you #bakugou x y/n #bnha bakugou

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writings-of-a-hufflepuff · 3 years

Text

School House Blues

Fandom: The Mandalorian

Collection/Series: Western AU- Putting Down Roots

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Identifying Reader

Writer: @writings-of-a-hufflepuff aka @hufflepuffing-all-day-long

Warnings: N/A

Request from Anon: Hey so I saw your post that said requests for certain characters were open and I was wondering if I could ask for a din djarin x plus size reader with this prompt please? : (19th c) I’m the town’s school teacher and you’re the gruff wanderer/traveller/cowboy/outlaw/etc. That’s come to town. You help me fix the school house and wrangle the little demons I teach. I was thinking the kid could be one of her students! Thank you so much in advance ♥️♥️

Summary: When the bounty hunter strolls into your little mining town you don’t think much of it, but with a little boy in his wake and your school house in disrepair, he becomes more than just a passing visit, but a welcome constant.

Notes: You know me too well, Western AU/historic AU Din is so good as a concept and ughhhhhh this was so wonderful to have requested and I hope desperately that it’s good!

Reader isn’t really specified as plus size just because it didn’t really come up in the story? Although she is described as being quite soft and sweet in appearance.

Archiveofourown

He comes into town with one hand clenched around his horse’s reins, guiding the bay and white creature with a bounty hogtied swearing and cursing over its rump, and the other hand holding a little boy of no older than six at his hip. It’s quite the sight, one that momentarily distracts you from your grief at the fact you’re teaching your children out of a saloon now since your schoolhouse was burnt to the ground.

He’s imposing or he would be if the little boy wasn’t smiling up at him with big brown eyes. It’s hard to be imposing when you’re clearly the world of a small child and it makes you smile from the porch of the saloon. You’d been organising the boxes of donations the townsfolk had put together, since all your books, slates, chalk, paper, pencils, and the like had burnt in the fire, when he strolls past. He glances over at you and tips his head, hat dipping over his chestnut eyes and it flusters you for a second when you finally see his face.

He’s handsome, incredibly so, too handsome to be in your small mining town you think. Deep brown eyes, a prominent nose and plump lips set in a perpetual pout. His jaw is sharp and his beard and moustache are trimmed neatly, despite the bruising on his face and the layer of dirt from the road he’s truly beautiful, a thought that flusters you further. The small boy sat comfortably at his hip and playing with the fabric of his suspenders is adorable, soft round cheeks and large brown eyes, but he doesn’t look much like the man and you’re curious what the story is there.

The boy is old enough to be in school with you, to sit and learn his letters and to read while the older kids move on to learning about science, history, mathematics and poetry. There are a couple of children his age in your class, Timmy and Mary-Beth, both just getting the hang of gripping a pencil correctly. You wonder if he won’t be joining your class soon or if he and his guardian will be out of town before you can even consider preparing for a new student.

You watch the man hitch the horse outside the Sheriff’s office, the one that’s not got a sheriff at the moment. You hope he’s not looking for quick pay, the lawman that resided in the Sheriff’s office at the moment was just there until they could find a new sheriff. He’d have to telegram out to get the bounty money. Your last sheriff had up and left after being shot at by a couple of drunk miners, he’d decided that was enough and quite the same day. The town had been a little more unruly since and it was beginning to make you and some of the other townsfolk uneasy without someone to keep the peace. The temporary lawman had been lazy and uninvolved thus far. It was after the sheriff quit that your schoolhouse burnt down and you weren’t sure it was coincidence.

You watch the man place the boy on his feet and say something quietly to him before brushing his hair fondly. He grabs the bounty off of the horse, and slings the man over his shoulder. It’s impressive that he doesn’t struggle up the steps to the office even with a fully grown man thrown over his shoulder, the little boy follows after him as he goes inside.

You return to your organisation. There aren’t that many books, not like you used to have. But, while you wait for some of your teaching associates across the country to send you items, they will do. There’s enough paper and some slates for all your students to practice their writing and get their work written down which is a relief and even a globe that the general store owner, Mr Hewitt, had found in a back cupboard for you to have.

You’re trying to lift one of the boxes of books when he comes back out again, the little boy still trailing behind him, but this time something shiny is pinned to the man’s blue shirt. You don’t think too much about it as you struggle to lift the box, your heavy skirts not helping you move much, hindering your progress and causing you to trip each step forward you take.

You hear his boots on the wooden stairs before you see him, he towers over you, as he takes his hat off, more polite than most men in town. You get a better look at the shiny thing pinned to his shirt and realise it’s a sheriff’s badge. The same one the old sheriff used to wear, you look from it to him and then down when you hear a little giggle. The little boy is still following after him, a sweet smile turned on you this time as he leans around the man’s legs to watch you.

“Miss, I can take that.” He gestures to the box in your hand, it’s not a question, and it’s straight and to the point. But, you’re grateful for the offer and hand it off to him without complaint. He’s stronger than you, that’s clear to see, his arms thick from years of hard work.

“Thank you…” You wait for him to tell you his name, trailing off as you lead him into the saloon that has been set out for the school day. There is a black board at the front, tables and chairs littered around the room, the liquor shelves have been emptied for books to replace them.

The fact that Mr Karga had offered the saloon for the school was a miracle and while many in town grumbled about their favourite place of vice no longer admitting them during the day time, most were supportive of the decision to help the kids continue their school. Nevarro wasn’t a large town and mining was its main source of income, but the children deserved a chance to do more than just become miners and the school helped them do that. You helped them get into colleges on scholarships, to find jobs as clerks and apprentices in other parts of the country.

“Din Djarin.” It’s a nice name, rolls of his tongue like honey. He doesn’t smile, not really, not properly, but there’s a little crinkle at the corners of his eyes that soften his face and make him seem warmer somehow.

“And this little one?” You smile at the little boy as he begins to bravely step out from behind his guardian to greet you with a smile. He is a quiet boy, not the usual talkative sort you find with a six year old, but who knows what he’s been through even at this young age.

“Grogu, he’s my…” He furrows his brow, clearly thinking hard on the right word. That alone tells you he is not his son by blood, a small fact that makes him even more interesting. Not many bounty hunters would take in a small child. “Son.” he finally says. Deciding it is the best term. Grogu isn’t his by blood, Din knows this, but the little boy he’d found all alone surrounded by death, was slowly becoming like a son to him. Aliit ori'shya tal'din. Family is more than blood.

“Will he be joining my class? I run the school, currently we’re based here...in the saloon. Not my ideal place to teach but needs must.” You gesture around you to the makeshift classroom. You don’t like that the place still stinks of liquor or that at night it goes back to being a saloon where people drink, gamble, and fight. But, you don’t have a better place right now and the children need somewhere to learn. You can teach in any building, even if you dislike this one.

You fit the image of a school teacher he thinks. You look like a respectable young woman, dressed appropriately, all neat and proper. Your hair pulled up and pinned away like it’s supposed to be. Everything about you is proper. Part of him wants to see you become ruffled, stop being so demure. It’s a thought that makes him frown at himself, the thoughts inappropriate especially towards a lady like yourself.

“Yes. We’ll be staying for awhile. What happened to the school house, Miss…?” He took on the job as sheriff the moment the lawman offered it, the pay was good, gave him his own accommodation and it meant he could settle down for a bit, give the kid an actual childhood. Bounty hunting was something he was good at but it wasn’t exactly safe to do with a six year old in tow. At least this job used his skills catching lawbreakers and put them to use in a place the kid could grow up. It helps that the teacher of the town is pretty too, he thinks.

You give him your name before answering his question, “Well, after the last sheriff quit, the schoolhouse burnt down and along with all the things we had in it. Luckily it was at night and none of us were in the building. Burnt right down to the ground, nothing left…” You say it with a heavy sigh, thinking of that sweet little schoolhouse. The white painted wood, the familiar rows of desks with names carved in them, your favourite collection of university level texts at the back for the older and more advanced kids to explore. You had been teaching in that schoolhouse for the last five years and in a way it had become a second home for you, if you weren’t at your own little home, then you were in the schoolhouse marking work or planning lessons for the coming days.

“Anyone know what caused it?”

“No. We didn’t exactly have the mind to investigate and if it wasn’t an accident it was probably just some drunk who didn’t know any better. But, we make do and Grogu,” You crouch down next to the small child, moving your skirts to do so comfortably, “will fit right in, I think, don’t you?” The little boy smiles at you and giggles, before hiding behind his father’s leg again.

“Have any plans been made to rebuild the schoolhouse?” Sheriff Djarin it seems is very straight and to the point, his tone isn’t unkind or aggressive, but his words are clipped, short, brusque as if he’s not quite used to being more flowery or saying much. You supposed a bounty hunter didn’t typically need to say much, but you hope he’ll become more comfortable with talking, at least to you, as time goes on.

“No...i’ve been trying to put some pressure on the mayor to get it done but...he just doesn’t seem to care all that much now there’s a temporary solution.” You say as you begin unpacking the box that he brought inside, exercise books are brought out and sorted into piles, ready for the children to write their names on the covers and start afresh.

He frowns, brow furrowing deep, lips turned down at the thought of the schoolhouse just never being rebuilt. It’s clear to him that saloon isn’t the place for a school and it’s even clearer that you are distressed with your new working arrangement, that you miss having a building that is entirely your own and entirely dedicated to teaching young minds.

“I’ll sort something out. Is class starting soon?”

“Yes, not...not long now.” You double check the clock realising the kids will begin arriving in less than an hour and you feel wholly unprepared for the first day of school since the schoolhouse burnt down.

You watch him crouch in front of Grogu, hand ruffling his hair fondly, “You’re going to stay here today, get some learnin’ in ya. I’ve got things to do, but I'll be back later, promise.” You’re surprised and warmed when he puts out his pinky finger for the kid to grab, a little promise that seems to you like something more. You wonder if the boy was scared of being left again, if this was Din’s way of reassuring his new son that he wasn’t going to leave him. The little boy wraps his whole hand around Din’s pinkie not quite understanding how the promises work yet.

“Have a good day of teaching, Miss Y/N.” He nods his head at you, grabbing his hat as he walks out the saloon with a purpose. The hat is placed on his head the moment he’s out of the doors and it’s that little element of politeness that surprises you. He carries himself like a gentleman but looks like any other rough and tumble man wandering the west. But it’s his treatment of Grogu that confirms the sort of man that he is.

I’ll sort something out. You smiled to yourself realising that perhaps the new sheriff would be the best thing to happen to this town in a while. Someone who actually got things done for once.

“Do you want to find your seat? Maybe do some drawing before class starts, Grogu?” You ask the little boy smiling at him as he nervously shifts from foot to foot, looking back out the doors as if hoping his father would walk back in. It’s clear he hasn’t had to do this before, be separated from him and left with a stranger, but you put on your softest smile and gentlest voice and wait patiently for him to nod his head before offering him your hand.

He takes your hand and you help him get settled into his seat, you decide to put him near the front so you can help him easily and get him settled near you. He only knows you after all, and you think being around all the kids and far away from familiarity might be too much. You give him some paper, scrap bits that you don’t need anymore and a pencil leaving him to draw while you get ready for class.

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

The school day goes...well, it’s hectic and your hair is frizzy and falling out of the updo you styled it in that morning by the end. The children are unsettled in this new environment, the older kids, those nearing adulthood frustrated by the younger kids who can’t seem to focus or be quiet. Your brain feels too large for your skull and you sigh out a goodbye to your students as they leave out the saloon doors, one or two shoving through the swinging shutters much faster than needed.

Grogu is the quietest of your students, sweet and attentive, he doesn’t speak a word, but follows your instructions well. He is behind on his writing letters and reading, that much you know from working with him, but he’s a quick learner and applies himself with a determination you rarely see. He doesn’t always play well with others. At lunch time you’d noticed him stealing food from the other children. It continued despite giving him your own lunch knowing his father hadn’t had time to prepare him something after coming straight into town and getting to work. He doesn’t share well either, but seemed to understand when you sat him down and talked to him about it. You suppose that being away from other children and only travelling with your father figure who would share his food with you without a thought, it must be confusing. The manners that he now has to observe, the rules of society that he’s never had to worry about until now. He looks suitably admonished despite the gentle way you chose to talk about it with him, that alone makes you think he’ll likely stop stealing the children’s cookies and be more willing to share.

“David, careful!” You call out when one of your older students nearly gets trampled underneath the sheriff’s horses’ hooves as he runs across the thoroughfare without looking.

“Sorry, miss!” David calls back over his shoulder, still storming ahead your warning lost on him.

You sigh heavily and rub at your temples, stress enveloping you. A tug, swift and sharp on your skirt has you looking down. Grogu has a hand fisted in the fabric, pulling to get your attention. Once he has it, his arms open, hands up towards you, opening and closing, a universal gesture to be lifted.

It surprises you, he is...quiet and reserved. You expected time to be needed before he was comfortable with you in any respect, especially after having to tell the boy off. Instead, he lets you lift him to your hip, hands reaching for strands of your hair and twisting them, surprisingly gently between his chubby little fingers.

You watch your students run in different directions through town, their books and lunch pails in tow. Some stop on the open green, playing games together before their parents demand them back home for dinner. The warm little body in your arms is a soothing presence and the boy almost looks like he wants to say something, but just makes a soft cooing sound instead.

“Not much of a talker are you, little one?” He almost shrugs his little shoulders before looking up at the sound of heavy footsteps and clinking spurs. The sheriff leads his horse up to you, eyes following David with a shake of his head. Clearly, just as bemused as you at his lack of common sense.

Grogu smiles and giggles happily at the sight of his father, arms reaching out for him. You pass him over to Din, trying to ignore how close you get to the man to do it. He radiates warmth and smells woodsy mixed with some sort of soap he must use. This close you can see little birthmarks dotted across his neck.

You step back once the boy is settled in his arms and smile, soft but tired. “Sheriff, how was your first day on the job?”

He gives you a humoured smirk, one you’re not expecting, it takes you aback slightly. He looks...charming, approachable. Little dimples at his cheeks that soften his features in a way that makes you want to step closer. With a huff, not quite a laugh, he says, “Eventful.”

“That makes two of us, sheriff.” He notices the tired creases beneath your eyes, the once unrumpled appearance now dishevelled, hair coming out of its updo and blouse and skirt wrinkled and creased. You look like you’d had a rough day and he hopes Grogu wasn’t part of the cause. He still hadn’t figured out how to discipline the kid, he always turned those big brown eyes on him and he just couldn’t tell him no.

“Din. Call me Din.”

“Then you should call me Y/N.” There’s a moment of silence. You stare at him, at the way his hat casts shadows over his face, at the gentle hold he has on Grogu, the open top buttons of his work shirt and the dig of suspenders into his shoulders. He stares back at you. The gentle softness of your cheek, the marks that make your skin your skin and not someone else's.

“We’re going to start building the schoolhouse as soon as the wood shipment gets here, I sent a telegram off today to get some good lumber in.” It surprises you in the most delightful way. When you said the mayor had been dragging his heels you meant it, but you hadn’t expected this new face to come in and make a start on what the mayor had been reluctant to do.

“We’re?”

“I’ve convinced some of the men around town to pitch in and I know a thing or two about building.” In truth he’d intimidated more than persuaded. Most of the men were lazy, and had more concern for their own vices than for helping out. But, a mixture of convincing them they’d get their saloon back and reminding them that he was now the town’s sheriff seemed to get a few of the stronger and more skilled townsfolk to agree to help.

“You’re the sheriff. You shouldn’t be building the schoolhouse, Din. You’ve got more important things to do.” You feel bad that he’s doing this, being quite so involved, when he’s starting a new job, one that takes up most of his time. Being a sheriff is a full time job, almost 24 hours a day 7 days a week. He has people to keep in line, criminals to catch, laws to enforce, and building a schoolhouse wasn’t on his list of priorities. It’s sweet and makes your heart ache oddly, but you feel guilty for adding another thing to his plate.

“This is important, Miss...Y/N. The kid can’t learn in a saloon forever and you can’t work here forever neither.” He can see how desperately you want your schoolhouse back and something in him wants to provide that for you, to care for you. He tells himself it’s also for the kid, that his son deserves a proper schoolhouse to learn in. That all foundlings, all little children deserved a place to learn, like he had growing up in the covert.

“At least...at least let me and the children bring food and water down once you get started. I...you’ve not even been here a whole day and you’re already doing more than anyone else ever has...Thank you, Din.”

“It’s my pleasure, meg ba'jurir” You do not understand what he calls you, but you recognise that cadence, the rhythm of the language. Can almost see the symbolic nature of the alphabet. It surprises you that he knows what you’re sure is Mando’a, having only heard one other person in your life ever speak it. Mandalorian family groups were uncommon, but where they were they seemed to keep people in order, to value community. It made sense that he would take on the job of sheriff, adopt a child not of his own blood, if that were the case.

You bite your tongue and don’t ask, you don’t know him and it is too personal to ask about his upbringing, culture or heritage. Perhaps, after you know him better you can ask, but you can almost hear your headmistress at school reminding you about manners and decorum even in a little mining town.

“He didn’t...he didn’t cause any trouble today did he? He’s not used to being around others or...we’ve been on the road for a long time now.” He looks down at the little boy sitting at his hip, who’s playing with the metal star on his shirt. He knew that Grogu could be difficult, sweet, adorable, hard to say no to, but undisciplined and not used to the rules that people usually abided by.

“I...I did have to have a word with him today…” You can already tell Din’s disappointed. He clearly loves the boy, but part of loving a child is wanting better for them and getting in trouble isn’t part of that.

Din sighs heavily before catching the boy’s eye, “Ad’ika…”The boy clearly knows what’s going on and hides his face in his father’s shirt, suitably embarrassed about his behaviour. You think that’s enough to probably deter him from stealing from other kids in the future. You also think you might bake him some treats and use them as an incentive to work hard. You suspect bribery would work well with Grogu.

“He paid attention beautifully and he’s already doing so well with learning his letters, but he’s...he’s quite…” You try to think of the best way to say that the boy just can’t resist taking other children’s food.

“You don’t have to spare my feelings, Y/N. You can tell me.” You look Din in the eyes, deep brown meeting your own and sigh out before speaking.

“He likes to steal the other children’s food. I gave him my lunch and he still tried to steal Charlie’s cookies and Mary Beth’s macarons. I know he’s probably used to food being a thing he can just have since you’ve been travelling as a family unit…”

“Osik... I forgot to give him lunch. I am a terrible father…” Din looks at his feet, free hand rubbing over the scruff on his jaw. You feel the instant need to reassure him.

“You’re not a terrible father. You just came into town this morning, immediately took on a job, and instantly went to work. You’re not a terrible father.” You hesitate, but reach forward anyway, a hand on his arm giving a quick reassuring squeeze.

“Vor entye, Y/N. Thank you. Have you eaten?”

“Oh…” You hadn’t really thought about it, that you’d given your food to Grogu to stop him going hungry and that you’d spent all day teaching with little more than the porridge you’d made yourself that morning to keep you going.

“Don’t even think about lying to the sheriff.” You did in fact consider lying to him, but the look he gave you reminded you of an overbearing mother hen who wouldn’t let you get away with it. Combined with the fact he was indeed the new sheriff, you felt it best to stick to the truth for now.

“No...I haven’t.” You admit, feeling suitably admonished by him and a little guilty for even considering lying about.

Din adjusts Grogu on his hip and nods his head behind him towards the street, “Come, I’ll buy you dinner at the café.”

“You don’t have to, Din. I can make dinner at home.” You think back to the soup you were going to make that night, and even though you haven’t the energy in truth to make dinner, you can’t ask him to buy you it. It is too much and unnecessary. Any good teacher would have made sure their students were fed.

“You kept my ad fed in place of yourself. I’m buying you dinner.” His voice left no room for argument and so you found yourself following after him across the street towards Reeva’s Café.

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

Din’s presence in town becomes apparent very quickly. He does not allow the men to wander drunk through the streets, start fights, or harass women. He does not suffer law breakers or those who cause the peace to break. He is swift, effective, and there isn’t a member of town who doesn’t respect his authority even if some don’t particularly like having to listen to him.

For you it is a refreshing change. You don’t worry about the children wandering around town in the evenings or about walking out of your home at night. You don’t worry about your meager belongings being stolen or a fight breaking out in the saloon on an evening and ruining the few bits you have for the school.

He is quiet and polite, not much of a talker, but everything he does shows a man of honour and good morals. He is sweet with the children as well.

It had become common place for him, while waiting for the lumber to begin the schoolhouse, to come into the saloon while you were teaching. He said it was because the day time left little for him to do as sheriff, but you think he just enjoys helping with the children. They make him smile. A real smile.

Sometimes he just sits with his son on his lap and helps him with his letters, other times he wanders between tables helping those who need it or using his presence to quiet the children after an exciting lunch break. Reminding them to respect you, their teacher, and listen.

Your favourite, and the childrens’ favourite times were when he’d sit down and tell them stories of his travels. For a man who didn’t speak much, Din Djarin was a natural born storyteller.

That’s how you found yourself taking a step back, sitting on one of the saloon bar stools off to the side as Din took your place at the front of the class. He had an ability with the little ones that amazed you, none were ever scared of him despite his height, posturing or the guns holstered at his side and slung over his back. He always managed to make them smile and laugh, always got their curiosity going and inspired them equally. He made it a point whenever he talked to your class to share stories of both men and women he’d met who’d done amazing things, you could tell he was trying to get the girls in your class to see they could be more than housewives or washerwomen and you appreciated it.

“So there I am standing toe to toe with the biggest grizzly you’ve ever seen…” He gestures with his hands, standing at the front, arms out front to show just how large this grizzly bear was. His voice took on a different, more dramatic quality then normal. Grogu clapped his hands from his seat on your lap, the little boy having grown increasingly comfortable around you.

“Now this grizzly has to be 8ft standin’, and he’s the angriest bear you’ve ever seen and i’m sure that’s the end of me. I’m about to become a grizzly bear’s dinner, Sheriff Djarin stew!” You laugh along with the kids at the prospect of Din becoming stew for a grizzly bear, you’re never sure how much is fiction or truth in his stories, although part of you wouldn’t be surprised if they were all completely true. He was...he always seemed larger than life despite being so quiet. Like some sort of figure out of a western story.

“When out of nowhere, charging between me and this mean grizzly, comes the largest bull moose I've ever seen…”

“What’d you do?” Mary Beth pipes up, big blue eyes open wide.

“Well, I got the he-” He stops himself looking at you, you raise an eyebrow reminding him that cussing around the children would not do well for him, “-out of there as quickly as I could! One thing you should never do is stay around to fight a grizzly, never ends well to go toe to toe with one. That moose was being kind and giving me a chance to get away.” It amuses you that he always manages to twist a moral into the story. This time about kindness and helping those weaker than yourself, along with a healthy dose of not getting into situations with angry grizzly bears of course.

“Well, I think it’s time I let Miss Y/N, get on with her mathematics lesson.” Groans and grumbling rises up from your students as you place Grogu in his seat and begin making your way to the front. You watch Din frown at them, hands on his belt, leaning into one hip more than the other. He is the perfect picture of a disappointed father. Lips twisting downwards, pulling on his moustache.

“Hey, now! Miss Y/N always makes your lessons fun so don’t you start giving her trouble or else i’ll have to stop coming in for story time.” It’s a threat that promptly has them settling quietly in their chairs and getting their books and pencils out.

You rest a gentle hand on his arm when you reach him, quietly telling him thank you. It’s heavy with meaning. Thank you for being there for the children. Thank you for providing them with stories. Thank you for always settling them and reminding them to respect me. Thank you for thinking about the schoolhouse. Thank you for settling the town and keeping the peace.

He just nods at you with the smallest hint of a smile, enough to make you feel the tiniest bit flustered as you watch him walk to the chair where he’d left his hat, holsters, and lasso.

“Say goodbye to the sheriff, children.” You tell them as all of you watch him make his way to the doors. He stops before them and tips his hat at you all with a smile, but the moment he’s out the doors it drops and in his place is the hard sheriff who won’t stand for trouble.

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

Once the lumber comes in and the plans have been drawn up and approved by yourself, at Din’s insistence, the work begins. The schoolhouse design had been run past you because Din didn’t want to miss anything that was needed or that would help you teach. He had told you not to worry about size, scale or cost, that the community was pitching in and that the mayor had found a fund tucked away somewhere for the school. The fund miraculously appeared after Din had a long meaningful chat with him.

He wouldn’t tell you that he’d made threats against the mayor about digging up some of his dirty laundry, but he had. The mayor had a lot of skeletons in his closet and also a nice stack of credits he was sitting on in his own personal mayoral vault. The fact that the mayor had been so reluctant to rebuild the schoolhouse when he easily could have almost made Din see red, but he didn’t think it would look good if he beat the man to the curb as sheriff. He was supposed to be upstanding and law abiding, if he wasn’t why would any of the townsfolk be?

A few days into the project you decided it was time you made good on your promise to come to the site during lunch time with the children to bring water and some food. You and the children collect pails of water and the baked goods you’d made the night before, trudging through the streets. You held Grogu on one hip, the small child the slowest of his classmates, and carried a heavy pail of water in the other, so heavy your shoulder slumped down on that side to accommodate the weight.

The children were happy to help, after all, many of their fathers and older brothers were working on the school site and it was a chance in the school day to see people they cared about. You were also sure they wanted to ask the sheriff a multitude of questions and beg for a story, but you’d reminded them that they weren’t there to get in the way or interrupt the work, just to offer food and water.

You’d reluctantly admitted to Reeva that you found the sheriff attractive, after the older woman badgered you day in and day out about the time you spent with him. You could admit he was handsome. His eyes were deep brown and spoke more words then he often did. He had both a look that could intimidate and also soften into something warm and safe. The beard and moustache he sported made him look ruggedly handsome and his shoulders were broad and wide. He looked like he’d stepped out of a story book or from an illustrated newspaper short story. Rugged but clean, dangerous but kind.

You had to admit though that this was your favourite look on him. As you came upon the building site he was busy sawing a plank of pine in two. His shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbow exposing his strong forearms and thick wrists. His suspenders had been flung off his shoulders, resting at sides no longer covering the strong back that was tensed as he worked. The top few buttons of his shirt had come undone, almost indecently so to show a pronounced collar bone, strong neck, and dark chest hair and the brown hair on his head had begun to curl from the sweat he was working up. It shouldn’t have been attractive. He should have looked like any other man working up a sweat, you shouldn’t have wanted to wipe his brow and brush your fingers through the curls of his hair. But you did.

Taking a deep breath to compose yourself you look down at the little boy at your hip, “Should we go say hello to your father?”

“Papa!” He clapped his hands at you in confirmation. You’d slowly learnt that papa was one of the only words he said, you weren’t sure if he chose not to speak or simply couldn’t. But, given his increasing aptitude with writing his letters, you thought it likely that he simply chose not to speak.

The call instantly has Din’s head popping up from his work like a startled deer and you watch as his eyes roam across the children until he catches sight of his son at your hip. The smile that lights his face is so bright that it’s almost blinding, there is a longing you feel whenever you see his happiness to see Grogu. Some deep part of you that desires that sort of family bond. He loves his son so deeply, it doesn’t matter to him that their blood isn’t the same and part of you wants desperately to be part of that love and happiness.

“Children, hand out the food and water, will you? But be careful!” You remind them as they run towards familiar faces, it is still a building site after all, and the last thing you need is a child getting hurt in any way.

Din finishes sawing the plank before striding over to you, hand pulling a rag from his back pocket to wipe the sweat from his brow. You look...radiant. The summer sun shining over you, causing your skin to glow, your hair to shine. Your smile is as soft as your eyes and you're gentle in the way you hold his son to your hip, like he belonged there. Like the two of you belonged together. Din can admit that he enjoys your company more than he probably should, he can even admit that a part of him deeply desires you, wants you to join his family unit, become part of his aliit. You’re tender and kind to all the children you teach, your children as you often call them, and you’re incredibly kind to Grogu who you treat with more understanding than most school teachers ever would. You keep order in your classroom through kindness and mutual respect, not through fear or punishment. The maternal shine to you draws him to you in a way that, had he not been Mandalorian, he might be ashamed of. But, family is everything to him, Grogu is everything to him and if he is to put down roots here, he can’t help but consider putting down roots with you.

It’s a silly thought though, you’ve not known each other long and he isn’t well to do or gentlemanly. You’re far better educated than him, kinder than him, and it is a pipe dream that he doubts will ever come to fruition. It doesn’t help that he struggles at times to even talk to you, let alone make his feelings known.

“Miss me, Ad’ika?” He calls to the little boy, carefully pulling him from your arms when you offer him. If you allow yourself to, you can almost imagine he’s taking your own child from you, that the two of you have formed some sort of family. But, you are just his son’s teacher and he is just the sheriff of your small town.

The boy babbles at him, not real words, nonsense, or attempts at words that don’t translate, but you can see that improving. Can almost imagine what settling down here can do for the boy, give him a chance to learn, grow, make friends, and find some stability and safety.

“He’s been itching to come over all day, they all have. I was struggling to get them to focus on their history lesson.” You had 15 children all desperate to get out of the saloon and visit their fathers for lunch. It had been a...very difficult lesson to say the least and you still felt a little frazzled.

“History?” The boy tugs at his father’s hair and you watch him wince as he speaks, pulling little chubby hands from brown curls.

“The fall of the empire and the rise of the republic. Not the most riveting subject for them I'm sure, they much prefer when I tell them about different societies rather than politics.” You want to say like Mandalore and the Mandalorians because you want to draw him in, desperate to have more of his time even when he’s already doing so much for you. You enjoy the odd hour here and there when he takes over your class and becomes the teacher, where you can just sit and listen, learn yourself.

“Mandalorians believe that our history is our future. We learn it as soon as we can walk.”

“So it is Mando’a you’ve been speaking?” It warms you to see him open up to you like this. He is a private man, quiet, and insular. While he can yell with the best, and demand attention, can intimidate and even persuade, it’s all part of his job. The face he puts on as sheriff. He is quiet about himself, sharing little and not so often. You revel in the trust placed in you wherever he tells you a little something more about himself.

“You noticed?” Most people don’t even know Mando’a exists, let alone recognise that the words he slips into his speech are such. He finds they slip out more around you, than with others. He’s comfortable with, he is happy to share himself, his culture with you and it...it is a startling discovery about himself. He has been insular and closed off for longer than he would like to admit.

“I can’t speak it and I..I don’t know it well, but, I recognise the cadence. I grew up in Naboo and there was a Mandalorian there, she used to speak it when I would sit and practice my letters with her.” Atin’a Caivass was a kind woman to you even if she could be hard. She had been one of your teachers, always pushing you harder, to do better. Yet, it had never felt frustrating or like a chore, the Mandalorian had always made it a desire to impress her, but also to prove to yourself that you could. She had always been kind to you and the other children, gentle but firm, like you were one of her own. You saw similarities with how Din treated the children. He was kind and gentle, but never overlooked an opportunity to firmly correct their behaviour or mistakes. A perfect balance. Not too soft and not too harsh.

“You never learnt?”

“She was very protective of it and I...I was always too afraid to ask.” You confess. You had always been fascinated with it, like any young child when faced with a new language, but you had always believed it something sacred, and had worried that you would offend her if you asked to learn. “Ad’ika? What does it mean?”

He can’t help but laugh at your pronunciation and sounds it out for you, “Ah-Dee-Kah, it means little one.”

“Ah-dee-kuh?” You are even more beautiful, he thinks when you butcher his language, trying so hard to get it right that your eyebrows scrunch together and your eyes crinkle at the corners.

“Ah-Dee-Kah” The little one squirms in his arms and he places him on the ground, only to watch him plunk himself on his bottom and play with the dirt. He had always had a fascination with dirt and rocks, more so than any of the toys he had actually brought or made him.

“Ah-Dee-Kah”

“Perfect.” You smile blindingly at his praise and he wonders if he can forgo his job as sheriff and simply teach you Mando’a every minute of every day. “You can always ask. If you want to learn. It’s nice to hear it from another person’s lips, not just mine.”

“I would like that very much...maybe when you’re less busy? You’re rather booked up at the moment, what with being sheriff, storytime for the children, and building a schoolhouse. You’re a busy man, Din Djarin.”

“I like to keep my hands busy.” You look down at your feet before looking back up at him, unsure how to respond to what you were sure was meant as a perfectly innocent comment. Din almost swears, osik, once he realises how that sounds, lifting hand to the back of his neck to rub it.

The silence that you fall into isn’t uncomfortable necessarily, but feels almost solid, like a physical thing and not just the quiet that comes with two people not talking for a moment. There’s a tension there that is not wholly unpleasant but hard to describe or pin down.

Seeming to remember the pail of water you’re carrying you place it in front of him, “Water, so you can clean off or if you’re thirsty. There’s some pastries somewhere as well, to keep you all fed...Can’t have you keeling over on us or else we’d never get our schoolhouse.”

You take a step back and cast your gaze around, making note of where each of your 15 kids are. You’re caught watching Jerome splash water on Annie, about to go and tell him off when you hear splashing much closer to you.

You thought he couldn’t excite you more than he already had. Thought that Din Djarin couldn’t possibly tempt you more, cause your well-mannered sensibilities to crumble further. You were utterly, terribly, ridiculously wrong.

There’s something to be said about the man pouring half a pail of water over his head to rub away the sweat and dirt from a hard day working in the summer sun. He flicks his head back, long neck outstretched as water droplets fall like mirror glass over his tanned skin. His hair sticks to his skin, kissing it in a way you realise you desperately want to and his shirt clings to broad shoulders with the familiarity of a lover.

You spin back around away from him flustered, determined not to look as you march towards Jerome. You decide in that moment that perhaps it’s best not to bring pails of water at lunch time. You might just not survive to see the school built.

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

For the next two months your routine features lunch time trips with the children to bring water and sometimes food to the men building the schoolhouse, and the odd afternoon story time hour when Din feels confident enough to leave the others to continue working without his guidance. Each day the schoolhouse comes together more and more and each day you fall a little bit more in...in whatever these feelings for the sheriff were.

You also have the startling realisation that Grogu has wormed his little way into your heart in a way that none of your other students have. You have a soft spot for the little boy, especially as he becomes more vocal, begins to say more little words, including the delightful name ‘Miss Y/N’.

Din is a temptation in himself, each time he teaches you another word or phrase in Mando’a and his lips wrap around syllables or every time he works hard to build the schoolhouse muscles pulling taut underneath the weight of wood. He tempts you in a way that no one ever has and you can’t quite explain what it is about this man that makes you desire to be in his presence, to kiss him, to hold him, to be close to him both physically and emotionally. You want to know everything about him, to understand him better than you understand yourself.

In some ways it is a relief when the schoolhouse is finished and in other ways it feels like a loss. Part of your routine, part of the day where you always see Din was no longer needed or necessary.

When you bring the children over at lunch time, it’s to show them the finished building, the one they’ll be in come Monday morning once you have the time to move all the books and other odds and ends into it. They’re all excited as are you, to see it...it strikes you in the heart so badly that you can’t move your feet, can only stare at the building with tears in your eyes.

It’s beautiful. Not large, but larger than the old one. Freshly painted white, with a school bell hanging out front. It strikes you that this isn’t just a schoolhouse, but it’s your schoolhouse. Din had been adamant about building it for you.

“Children, why don’t you go inside and take a look? You’ll be here on Monday!” You wave them all off as they run ahead and up the wooden steps, throwing the door open none too gently. “Careful! We only just got it!” You call out and receive a series of sorries back.

“Shall we go find your buir?” You look down at Grogu, who’s hand is holding the heavy fabric of your skirt. He smiles up at you and nods his head with a quick little ‘papa’ that has your heart warming.

You hear him before you see him, “Now don’t go breaking the tables when we’ve only just put them together, girls!” Already laying down the law to 3 of your children as you enter the schoolhouse. They had seemingly been swinging on tables in a most ill-mannered fashion that has you putting on your teacher-face and raising an eyebrow at them from behind Din. They promptly stop and return their feet to the floor with an abashed look.

“Sorry, Sheriff. Sorry Miss.” They call to you both before scurrying away in hopes of avoiding punishment, leaving you, Din and Grogu alone in the main room for the building. You let it go. It isn’t an issue, they need to learn to respect things, and not damage them, but that does not have to come at the cost of punishment when a quick look and a reminder does enough.

Din spins at them calling out to you, faster than he seems to have expected, looking decidedly dizzy for a second before the mask of sheriff falls right back into place.

“Y/N, how do you like it?” He opens his arms wide and gestures to the main room of the schoolhouse. A large blackboard already nailed to the wall at the back, rows of tables and chairs set up so every child could see you. A desk at the front for your things. It is sweet and fits your needs infinitely better than a saloon ever would. You even note the bookcases along the walls, enough space to place many of your books for the children to have easy access for when they wish to learn something more than you could teach them.

“It’s...it’s wonderful, Din. It’s beautiful. I...I can’t thank you enough...I...I’m a little lost for words.” You can feel the happy tears starting to pool in your eyes again, the gratitude making you a little bit emotional. “I don’t think I can ever repay you for this.”

“You...you don’t need to repay me, Mesh’la. This...you and the children deserve a school, a place to teach and learn. You don’t have to thank me or repay me for doing what the damn mayor should have done in the first place.”

You nearly don’t do it. Nearly let that fear that wells up inside you and the proper manners, the belief that you were about to be far too forward than was ladylike, stop you. But, you think back to his kindness, his gentle nature, the calm and order he’s brought to town. The son of his that you have a large soft spot for. The handsomeness of his features, the sharpness of his profile. The gentle hand he always places on your back as he helps escort you somewhere. The respect he shows you at every turn and his willingness to share his culture and upbringing with you. You think of all the things that make up the Din Djarin you know and you think of what he has come to mean to you.

With a silent prayer and an apology to your late headmistress for being more forward than is ladylike, you push yourself forward and into him. Lips soft and chaste lifting to meet his, only briefly. You do not push for more than a second of contact, but it is enough, you hope, to get the thought and intent across. That he is someone you would like to get to know more, that he is someone you could happily be courted by, even marry one day.

He doesn’t even have time to blink, it happens so fast. One minute you are standing a few steps away from him thanking him, the next your lips are pressed to his in the shortest sweetest kiss he’s ever had the pleasure of being on the receiving end of. It takes another second for him to realise what’s happened before he’s reaching a hand out to cup the nape of your neck and drag your lips back to his for a significantly more substantial kiss that leaves you a little breathless.

When you pull away from each other you don’t go far. Din presses his forehead to yours, hawkish nose pressing into your cheek, a soft touch that grounds you with his presence. The hand at your neck, rubs a soothing thumb across your skin. Your own have chosen to grasp at the suspenders over his shoulders, to keep in close proximity.

“I’d very much like to court you, Miss Y/N.”

“I think i’d like that, sheriff.”

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Mando’a Translations

Meg Ba'jurir - roughest way I could get to someone who educates or a teacher with meg being who and ba’jurir being educate

Osik - Shit

Vor entye - Thank You

Ad - son

Ad’ika - Little one, term of endearment for small children

Buir - Father also Mother basically parent.

Mesh’la - Beautiful

Aliit - Family (Clan)

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Taglist for this fic:

@lex-ham

#din djarin x reader #din djarin / reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian reader insert #reader insert #readerinsert #western au #putting down roots #din djarinxreader #din djarin/reader #female reader #female identifying reader

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whozeya · 2 years

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✨Diarist✨

I claim that introductions are for me and I would like to narrate myself as creative as possible.

To start, I would like to share a quote by Virginia Woolf from her book, A room of One’s Own:

"Lock up your libraries if you like; but there is no gate, no lock, no bolt that you can set upon the freedom of my mind". This qoute greatly inspires me to believe in my glamor in Literary Life. We write best when we choose to take our inner rhythm than discipline.

I am a graduate of AB English Language at VSU, life way back in college was a tough academically, to tell you honestly, I failed miserably in my studies many times. I was a lazy type student, and I settle only for an average grade. Most of my outputs are submitted in last-minute deadline, and I focused much on parties in every special event in school that has nothing to do in upping my grades.

Back in the day, there was no clear path for me on the course that I want to take. Even took me six years just to finish college for the reason that I shifted course thrice.

In my opinion, most of the students failed horribly by not choosing their best at; their passion.

Academic was harder when I choose Marine Biology as my course. A premed course. I remember choosing it because, I got fascinated by my roommate’s collection of swimming gear and equipment that you often watch in national geographic and discovery channel.

Growing up a lover of the sea, I also love the idea of becoming a marine scientist that is way look cooler to the eyes of the people. Little did I know that, choosing biology will hit me to a big realization; that picking a course idealistically but don't fully match with your potentials is dangerous. Biology, as I only perceive as the study of life is difficult and linked with mathematics. There I failed horribly, retook the subjects many times and got left behind by my classmates.

One day, I was look by our department head, she advises me that it would be better for me if I shift to AB English. She reviewed my past subjects and she figured that I am doing very well in English and Literature. Pursuing biology as a third-year student would be more difficult in my part because I failed in my pre-requisite math subjects. My batchmates are now doing their thesis writing and I am not.

The consultation left words of encouragement that strengthen myself: Maybe I am better doing something else.

It went a lot of process and courage in starting all new. Finally, I made a decision that would put me into the right track. Shifting to AB English was great move, I discover my love for pleasure reading, my passion as an authentic writer and I am now getting good grades in my major subjects. I also met fellow shifters who had similar stories with me in their academic struggle. I learned a genuine kind of empathy by hearing stories that you not only read from the books.

Years went by, I successfully reach in my last year in college. I graduated with flying colors and received an award for my thesis. I was listed as one of the best paper awardees and most fulfilling of all, is that you contributed your research paper into the academe world.

This is the best part: right after I graduated, I got hired immediately as a part time instructor in my hometown. The failing student back then suddenly became a paragon. There I teach Literature, Arts and English to the college students. I became the instructor that equipped my knowledge with my real-life experiences from college. I teach Literature in most authentic way by applying the readings in the older times and relate it to the modern world through fashion and interactive storytelling. Students nowadays find a hard time concentrating to reading, it is the main goal of a teacher to find out for a solution to bring back the lost spark of pleasure reading just like when we're younger; enjoying children's book full of images and short texts.

Most of the time, we really haven’t figured it all out yet. Our past mistakes are not the definition that will sum our totality as a person. Everything that happens to me was purely acknowledging mistakes then work on the next step to be better; It is true they say, that magic really works when you never stop working about doing what you love🤍🤍🤍

I want to end this writing with this quote by Dani Shapiro: If we have learned the lessons the years of practice have taught us, when this happens, we endure. We fail better. We sit up, dust ourselves off, and begin again.

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cocobeanncteez · 4 years

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ATEEZ Yeosang Imagine: When he's secretly dating you and his friends bully you.

Genre: Angst, fluff, high school au.

Pairing: badboy!Yeosang x fem!reader

Words: 4k

Warnings: Bullying, profanities.

You didn't flinch when you felt a crumpled paper hit the back of your head—you were so used to it now. You could hear familiar laughter while another paper was thrown, and it landed right on top of your desk. You slowly straightened it out, unsurprised to find the same words you were called pretty much everyday—bitch, dweeb, nerd, prude. You put the paper in the pocket of your uniform's skirt, mentally reminding yourself to throw it away later.

"Hey, you nerd!" you heard Jung Wooyoung yell from across the classroom, but you ignored him. He was part of Ateez—a so-called group of eight bad boys who were absolutely nothing but trouble. They were always picking on someone, so most students here were scared of them. You became their victim about three months ago when you accidentally bumped into Song Mingi while you were rushing to class; he thought you were the perfect target, and all his friends joined in on bullying you.

While you were lost in your thoughts, Jung Wooyoung slammed his fist on your wooden desk, making you flinch at the sudden loud sound. "How dare you fucking ignore me, you stupid bitch?!" Your classmates quietly watched the scene, not daring to open their mouths and stand up for you; they knew that they would be next on the target-list if they even uttered a word. You only had two friends at school and both of them didn't share any common classes with you, except mathematics.

You would've stood up for yourself and slapped Jung Wooyoung across his face, but unfortunately for you, he happened to be your boyfriend's childhood and closest friend. You knew how much your boyfriend, Kang Yeosang, loved and cherished Wooyoung and the other six boys, so you never fought back whenever any of them bullied you. They didn't even know that you were dating Yeosang for almost six months now.

Yeosang always laughed with them while you got bullied, but at the end of the day, he would check up on you, pulling you into his arms and kissing you gently while he mumbled an apology.

Wooyoung was going to yell at you again, but your teacher arrived, saving you. He glared at you before he quietly returned to his seat; you knew he would come after you again once class ended.

And you were right.

"Stop right there," Wooyoung said, harshly grabbing you by your arm, and pushing you against the student lockers; you winced in pain. Mingi was right behind him, smirking at the situation.

"What did she do now, Woo?" San asked, walking towards the three of you, Seonghwa and Yeosang trailing behind him. Yeosang gave you a questioning look, but you only shook your head slowly. Only Seonghwa noticed the small exchange between you and Yeosang, but he didn't say anything.

Wooyoung snorts. "This little prude here ignored me in class. Shouldn't we teach her a less—"

"Listen, I'm fucking starving right now," Yeosang said in an annoyed tone, interrupting Wooyoung. "Can we please go eat?"

"But—"

"Same," Seonghwa said. "Let's not waste our lunch break. We can deal with her later."

"Fine," Wooyoung scoffs. "This isn't over yet, bitch," he mumbled lowly to you before following the rest of the boys to the cafeteria.

You took a deep breath, resting your head against the locker. You really wished Yeosang would just tell them you were his girlfriend; it would make everything so much easier. You wondered why he still hasn't told them when you've both been dating for nearly half a year. You couldn't help but wonder if there was something wrong with you. Was he embarrassed to be with you because you weren't the rebellious type like him and his friends? Or was it something else?

You sigh, scrunching your eyes closed while your head slightly pounded at your temples. The whole situation was seriously messing with your head. You see both your friends—Heejin and Jiwoo— making their way towards you, looking at you with worried eyes. They knew you were dating Yeosang and weren't really supportive of it.

"What's wrong?" Heejin asked.

"Headache," you replied.

She nods, taking your hand in hers. "You need to eat, Y/N." She dragged you to the cafeteria while Jiwoo happily told you both about a guy she was starting to like.

Once the three of you got to the cafeteria and bought your respective food, you sat at your usual table which was at the end of the cafeteria.

You could hear familiar laughter and you didn't even have to look at them to know who they were.

Ateez sat at their usual table which was right in the middle of the cafeteria, grabbing nearly everyone's attention. Of course, most people didn't look at them; they didn't want accidental eye-contact resulting in their life getting miserable every day.

A chorus of 'ohhs' were heard, and everyone glanced at Ateez curiously. However, the moment you looked up from your food, your stomach dropped.

Your heart ached at the sight of a girl—the most popular girl in your school— sitting on Yeosang's lap while he looked up at her with a smirk; the same smirk he always gave you whenever he teased you.

"Well, it's about time," you heard a guy seated at the table behind you say. "Kim Shinah has been trying to date him ever since the year started." You knew this, of course. Everyone at your school did. However, Yeosang told you he had absolutely no interest in her and found her quite annoying, so you were quite confused as to why he was letting her sit on his lap, let alone come close to him.

You glanced down at your food, not feeling like eating anymore. Your friends gave you a worried look.

Heejin sighed. "Y/N . . . "

You shook your head. "It's fine," you lied, smiling slightly. "I lost my appetite." You got up from your seat and disposed your food tray before you headed to your next class.

×××

You barely texted Yeosang for the next two weeks and you didn't meet him after school on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays like you usually did; you told him that you were busy studying for the upcoming exams in two weeks. You didn't eat at the cafeteria because Kim Shinah was always busy flirting with Yeosang there; it was too much for you to watch.

Yeosang noticed something was off today when he realised that you haven't replied to his texts in three whole days. He secretly tried to approach you in school, but unfortunately for him, he couldn't find the right opportunity as one of his friends was always there. He felt quite sad that you weren't even glancing at him.

After school ended, you sat on a bench right beside your school's outdoor basketball court, scrolling through your social media while waiting for Jiwoo and Heejin so you all could take a bus home together.

"Oh, look! It's the dweeb!" you heard Song Mingi say. You could see the rest of Ateez through your peripheral vision. You ignore them, keeping your eyes on your phone.

"Your skirt is pretty short for a prude," San said, pointing at your uniform skirt that had moved up your thighs a little.

"Virgins are really so desperate," Hongjoong remarked, and the others agreed. You wanted to laugh and tell them how one of their own friends took your virginity away not too long ago. On the other hand, Yeosang was pissed off with his friends' behavior, but he didn't show it. He acted like nothing was affecting him.

"But it would be so nice to fuck her," Mingi chuckled.

Jongho and Yunho nod. "Imagine how tight this little virgin—"

You had enough now.

You snorted, shocking them because of your 'bold' move. You locked your phone and put it in your pocket before you got up from the bench, looking straight at your boyfriend.

"Your friends are talking about fucking me," you said to Yeosang in a nonchalant tone. "Are you not going to say anything? Not even now?"

Wooyoung scoffed. "Why the fuck are you talking to him, bitch?"

Yeosang only stared back at you, unsure of what to say. He wanted to defend you so badly, but at the same time, he couldn't. At least not in front of his friends.

"I see," you chuckled at his silence. "Let's just . . . " you felt your heart ache. "Let's break up, Yeosang."

Yeosang's eyes widened, feeling his heart shatter into a million pieces. He never thought you would ever break up with him. Seonghwa didn't seem surprised, and the other six boys were shocked.

Yunho turned to Yeosang. "What the fuck is she saying, Yeo—"

Yeosang took a step towards you. "Babe . . . you seriously cannot be breaking up with me for this," Yeosang said, clearly hurt. One of the boys gasped, not expecting this to actually be true; who would've thought the bad boy would choose a goody-two-shoes.

"If you think this is the only reason, you're wrong," you deadpanned. "It's been six months since we started dating, Yeosang. Do you think I'm not tired of you ignoring me in front of everyone? You cancel our plans whenever you have to be with your friends. You laugh along with them whenever they're fucking harassing me, your girlfriend. Your friends have been bullying me for three months now and you wouldn't even say shit. Instead, you join in." You didn't care that the seven boys were listening to this. You didn't care that at this point, tears were streaming down your face. "You even let Kim Shinah sit on your lap and you've been fucking flirting with her right in front of me. You told me you had no interest in her. Who knows what the fuck you do behind my back!" Heejin and Jiwoo had just arrived, standing beside you. Yeosang had a pained expression on his face as he took in everything you just said.

"I really can't do this anymore," you stated, wiping away your tears with the back of your hand. "It's over, Yeosang." you give him a small smile before you walked away. Jiwoo followed you while Heejin gave Yeosang a disgusted look.

"You're an asshole, Kang Yeosang. I can't believe she actually loved you," Heejin said before she ran to catch up with you and Jiwoo.

Yeosang stared straight ahead of him, hands clenching into fists. He was so upset with himself. "I fucked up so bad. I love her so much. I really fucked up big time."

"Hyung . . . you're crying," Jongho murmured. Yeosang didn't even realize that. He lets out a broken chuckle while wiping his tears. He left without saying a word to anyone, wanting nothing more than to be alone.

"I knew this would happen," Seonghwa muttered while watching Yeosang walk away, but the boys heard him.

"You knew about this?" Wooyoung asked.

"No, but I kinda figured out recently that there was something going on between them," Seonghwa replied. "I don't know about you guys, but it was really obvious to me that Yeosang liked her. We should go apologize."

×××

You were at your school's library, studying for the exams scheduled for next week. Yeosang didn't go after you or contact you after you broke up with him. In fact, Yeosang hadn't even come to school after that, which was a week ago. His friends didn't bully you anymore and they all apologized for everything. You accepted their apology after they promised to never bully you or anyone else again.

You were just about to leave the library to go home, but someone stopped you. "Y/N, can we talk?" You nodded and followed him outside, waiting for him to speak.

"What is it, Seonghwa?" you asked anxiously when he wasn't saying anything. His silence was making you feel uneasy.

Seonghwa sighs sadly. "Yeosang . . . "

Your heart ached at the mention of his name. "What about him?" you whispered, looking away.

"It's hard to explain," Seonghwa said. "It's better if you see him instead."

"I-I can't, Seonghwa."

"Please, Y/N," he begged. "I know he fucked up, but you really need to see him right now."

You thought about it for a minute before you agreed. Seonghwa drove you to Yeosang's new apartment that he rented out two months ago after his parents kicked him out.

Seonghwa dropped you off at the entrance of the apartment complex before driving off.

You sighed as you made your way to Yeosang's apartment. You rang his doorbell, but no one answered. You rang it twice again, but there was still no response. You bit your lip, contemplating whether you should enter his passcode—the one he had before you broke up. "Fuck it," you muttered after waiting for another minute. You entered the passcode which happened to be your date of birth; you were surprised he didn't change it yet.

You went inside, wondering why his curtains weren't drawn at this time. The room was dim and there were empty Soju bottles scattered on the floor.

Your heart sank at the sight of Yeosang asleep on the floor, curled up into a fetal position. He was wearing the grey hoodie you had gotten him for his birthday.

You kneeled down beside him, running your hand through his messy brown hair. You noticed the dark circles under his eyes and he lost some weight. "What have you done to yourself . . . " you whispered. You went to his room and got a blanket. You placed it over his body and put a pillow under his head before you headed to his kitchen to make dinner with whatever ingredients you could find.

Yeosang woke up an hour later, confused because of the delicious smell of food. "Seonghwa hyung . . . ?" he called out, his voice deep as he just woke up. When he got no reply, he forced himself to stand up, making his way to the kitchen.

Yeosang rubbed his eyes sleepily. "Hyung, how did you get into my apartment? I don't think I've ever told you the pass— Y/N . . . ?"

"I made dinner," you said while putting some rice in a bowl. Yeosang stood there with a dumbfounded expression, wondering if he was still too sleepy. "Go freshen up," you said. He nodded slowly after realizing you were really here before going to the bathroom.

When he came back, he sat down with you at the dining table. "Y/N, I—"

"Eat first," you interrupted him. "We'll talk after this." He nodded obediently, immediately taking a bite of his food. He finished the entire thing in less than five minutes. "When was the last time you had a proper meal?" you asked.

"Last week," he answered. "Seonghwa hyung tried to make something for me, but I couldn't eat . . . so he forced me." He hesitantly reached out to cup your cheek, stroking your skin gently.

"What are you doing . . . ?" you murmured, involuntarily leaning into his touch that you missed so much.

"Just making sure you're really here and I'm not dreaming," he said before his eyes started watering. "Y/N, I . . . I'm so sorry." Your head told you not to forgive him, but your heart disagreed.

You stood up from the chair and went to his side, pulling him into a hug while he cried. "It's fine, Yeosang."

"It's not," he sobbed. "It's not fine and you know it. I said— I promised I wouldn't let anyone hurt you and would protect you from everyone. I promised I would never be the reason behind your tears. And look at what I did! God, I fucking hate myself for hurting you." Your heart hurt at the way he cried. You ran your fingers through his soft hair, trying to calm him down. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. I want to ask you for another chance, but I know I don't deserve it," he whispered. "I failed to be a good boyfriend. I failed to be the man you could trust, and I failed to be the man you could l-love and—"

You brought his lips to yours, cutting him off. "I love you, Kang Yeosang. I'm in love with you. I have been for quite sometime now. Yes, you fucked up and I shouldn't be here, but I just can't let you go . . . I really love you, Yeosang. I want to give you another chance." He wiped your tears that began to fall.

"I don't deserve you, Y/N," he said with a sad smile. "But thank you for giving me another chance and for loving me . . . I swear I won't fuck up this time."

You kissed the birthmark beside his eye. "I know you won't . . . But I want an explanation."

He nodded. "There's nothing much to say, I was a fucking asshole. My friends always kept saying that I'm the innocent one, so I bullied people along with them to prove that I'm not what they think I am . . . and then I just got into it. I swear I wanted to beat them up for hurting you and saying all those awful things, but I just couldn't. I wasn't able to speak up even if I really wanted to . . . As for Kim Shinah, they told me to flirt back just to see her reaction. I swear I don't have any feelings for her or anyone else who isn't you." You listened to every word he said, contemplating on what to do. "You really don't have to forgive me, Y/N, after I put you through so much shit. I'll accept whatever decision you make, even if," he took a deep breath. "Even if you say you never want to see me again. I know I'm a bad person."

You shook your head, running your hands through his hair. "Everyone deserves another chance if they're willing to change, Yeosang. We all make mistakes, some forgivable and some unforgivable. But to me, what's important is how you deal with it afterwards. You're not a bad person, Yeosang. Yeah, you got carried away with all that, but that doesn't make you a bad person overall."

Tears rolled down his cheeks as he stood up from the chair, pulling you into a tight hug. "Thank you, baby. I swear I'll change. I fucking swear I'll become so much better that you'll be so proud to call me yours."

You cupped his cheek, wiping away his tears. "I'm already proud of you now," you say with a grin.

Yeosang leaned in, crashing his lips onto yours. "I love you, Y/N," he said in between kisses. "So much." You smiled against his lips, pulling away.

"I love you more, Kang Yeosang," you said before wrapping your arms around his neck, happily bringing his lips back to yours.

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barbecuebabybackribs · 4 years

Photo

Dating Rosalie Hale Would Include: (Male Reader)

It was a normal day for Rosalie

It felt like the millionth time she went to college, she couldn’t go to ivy league colleges every time- although she wished she could since now she was at an underfunded local college, she was just glad she didn’t need to suffer within the dorms which were- less then hygienic

She already had taken this course dozens of time so her mind was else where, that was until the smell hit her

Something so alluring, it almost drove her mad, suddenly an intense urge to go find something consumed her, she knew what this feeling was, she knew it was her mate- the stories the other told her about described this feeling- she was about to get up and follow it when the door creaked open.

She looked over and saw a young man walk into the room- he looked confused and somewhat embarrassed- it’s him, is all she thought.

Everything about her drew her in, she wanted to run up and embrace him that very second but she knew she couldn’t

She looked around the room, there were a few open chair around the room but most of them were around her- the other humans could instinctively tell something was off with her, that she was a predator even if they didn’t consciously know it- she prayed he would choose a seat next to her

As the younger boy gave a slip to the teacher and then made his way up the aisles to find a seat- they locked eyes for a moment.

Your entire face ran hot as you made eye contact with one of the most beautiful women you’d ever seen, she quite literally took your breath away

You saw nearly half the aisle she was in was empty.

You weren’t quite ballsy enough to sit right next to the beautiful girl in your class- this wasn’t some cheesy romance movie and you didn’t want to make it obvious

so you sat two chair away from her, your palms sweat slightly when she looked at you and smiled- something about her made you nervous but you still wanted to get to know her.

You spend the whole class trying your best to pay attention but being distracted by the fact that Rosalie keeps looking at you- looking strangely excited

Which was accurate, she was practically over the moon, you didn’t sit right next to her but you were close enough- for now.

She had been desperately searching for a mate for her entire life- even her human one.

She has so desperately wanted to be loved, she died because she trusted the wrong man with her love.

She just wanted to be held by someone she loved, to feel a loving embrace, to simply exist in the presence of someone who loves he unconditionally

That’s why she brought Emmett to Carlisle, she thought she finally found someone who would love her.

And Emmett did, but not the way she wanted. He loved her as a Sister, a Friend- but that wasn’t enough

She was so excited but also so terrified of messing up her one opportunity at love- she was ultimately going to leave it up to you whether or not you would date, she didn’t want to pressure you into anything because of how she felt.

So that’s how it went on for almost a week, casting a shy glance at Rosalie and meeting her sweet smile.

You laughed sometimes at how cold she looked whenever anyone else interacted with her but when you so much as looked at her she looked as if she couldn’t hurt a fly

You wanted to say hello but you were so terrified that you had misread the signs and she just wanted to be alone.

So you decided you would simply sit down in the seat next to her but not say anything- you’d leave that up to her

You nearly jumped out of your skin when she said hello.

You looked over and almost got lost in her strangely color honey eyes- they matched her hair, it was beautiful

“Hello!” You snapped out of it, “Uhm, I’m new, I don’t think we’ve ever actually talked.” You hadn’t that why you were so nervous and your heart was beating a mile a minute.

“I’m Rosalie,” She smiled, “And your Y/N, right?”

“Uhm yeah, how’d you know?”

“I heard you talking to the teacher once, don’t worry I’m not stalking you.” Which was true, she always looked down on how Edward would handle the situation with Bella, so she let you have your space

“Oh,” You said slightly embarrassed at how loud you must’ve been talking

“Well it’s nice meeting you Rosalie, we should talk more often, I don’t know many people around here.” You sucked in a nervous breath, almost dying on the spot when she didn’t respond immediately

“Oh, I’d love that.” Her voice was soft but sweet

From that day forward you two would chat before and after class- about everything.

Simple things like what your favorite things were, what things you disliked, to more complicated things like family. You both could talk about anything and everything and even if you disagreed it was okay, you both accepted it.

You found yourself constantly getting lost in her voice as she told you about her life, her family, literally anything and you were in-captured

You started hanging out, outside of school

First place you went was your favorite cafe- which she was reluctant by but agreed. She ordered a cappuccino

“Rose, you don’t need to drink it if you don’t like it”

“I’m not much of a... coffee person.”

“Then why did you- you know what it’s okay.” You laughed

You decided to find things other then cafe’s to go to

You go to the movies

To parks and just talk, or to goof around

She takes you shopping when your one jacket get’s damaged and she learns you can’t afford a new one with your student loans and student housing debt

Girl wants to cry when she learns how crappy your dorm room is- constantly has leaks from the rain, loud obnoxious dormmates, light’s that constantly flicker and give you headaches.

She makes a vow to try and make your college experience as pleasant as possible.

After a month she finally asks you out

You choke on you drink but manage to wheeze out a yes as she pats your back

She takes you to a cafe- opts to not order anything- and then to the park where she planned a cute little picnic

She’s been planning this for decades and she’d be damned if she didn’t spoil the hell out of you

She ends up rambling about cars when you compliment hers.

Is so happy when you respond with your rudimentary knowledge of cars

She’s so elated the entire day

She drives you to your dorm.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay getting home, Rose? It’s after dark and I wouldn’t mind taking you home.”

“I’ll be fine Y/N... thank you for worrying.”

“Alright... just please be safe alright?”

“Same goes for you.”

There’s a moment of pause and you work up the courage to halfly do what you’d been wanting to all day.

You kiss her cheek

Then rush inside as you almost hyperventilate- was dating supposed to be this nerve-wracking?

You almost don’t go to class the next day

She’s smiling ear to ear when she see’s you

“So about last night-”

“Uh- sorry i should’ve asked- I don’t know what I was thinking, heh, I understand if-”

“No, I liked it.”

“oh”

You blush for the rest of the class

Practically skip back to the dorms

She texts you later that day and asks if you’d want to come to her house during the weekend

You agree although nervous to meet her family so soon

She picks you up in her convertible.

You both find out you have similar taste in music- you sing the songs with her and both laugh at how poorly the both of your singing was

When you pull up you gawk at her house

“Rose your rich.”

“Only slightly.”

“Women- you have a mansion and a convertible- I have a whole in the wall and not even a tire to roll in.”

She laughs and leads you inside

“Y/N!” You almost get tackled by a small pixie like girl,

“Alice!” Rosalie practically hissed yanking her off you

“Uhm- It’s okay? Hi?” You were confused but didn’t want to hurt anyones feelings by being mean

“Sorry, Rosalie.” The pixie girl giggled as a blonde man appeared behind her- are all these people like insanely attractive?

“Y/N! I’m so glad to meet you, I know we’ll be great friends! This is my husband Jasper!” She gestured to the blonde man who smiled stiffly at you.

“Well, Hi. It’s nice meeting you finally, Rose told me a lot about you guys.”

“All good thing I hope,” A kind woman looking in her mid twenties called out from across the room, “Alice why don’t you let Y/N take two steps in the door before you nearly tackle him to the ground.”

You have an awkward but pleasant meeting with everyone before Rosalie swiftly drags you to her room- obviously embarrassed.

“So your family is nice- little odd but nice.” You say when you enter her room.

“Don’t tell them that, it’ll go straight to their heads.”

You end up inspecting her entire room, lots of books on cars- but a lot of other things as well, Medical books, mathematical books, Shakespeare, scientific books and collectibles

“Uhm Rose?”

“Yes?”

“Are you... a genius?”

“No, but I am smart.”

“Rose, your rich, pretty, nice, smart- why the hell are you seeing me?”

You said it in a joking manor but when you looked over you could tell she was taking it very seriously

“Don’t ever say that Y/N.”

“I’m sorry- I didn’t know it’d upset you.”

“It’s okay- just please don’t joke about that sort of thing, your the only person I want to be with.” She breathed out before putting a smile on her face, “Anyways, What do ya wanna do?”

You end up spending the day talking and she shows you around the house, then shows you the cars she’s working on- You also talk to her family some more- Alice and Esme adore you, so do the others they’re just more quiet about it

You end up staying way later then intended,

“I should probably go back to the dorms, I’d hate to keep you guys up to late.”

“Ah right.” Rosalie said awkwardly, “You’re probably tired.”

“Slightly but considering I always stay up to finish paper I’m fiii- Oh no.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I HAVE A PAPER DUE TOMORROW AND I HAVEN’T EVEN STARTED- I GOTTA GO.” You said practically sprinting out the house,

“Y/N- I drove you here!”

You turn around and grab her hand- not even thinking about being embarrassed- “We have to go!” You announced, hurrying out of the house.

You end up speeding home with her and she spends the night helping you with the paper- finding it cute how stressed you got over a relatively easy paper

She ends up spending the night- your dorm mates don’t mind since they’ve had done much more inappropriate things with women while you were in the room then sleep

Rosalie ends up pretending to sleep until you fall asleep, loving it when you- while still asleep- throw an arm around her and cuddle up to her

“I’m really glad I met you.” She said softly letting you sleep in her arms, knowing your safe helps her relax and she gets as close to sleep as a vampire can get

Loves how you look when you wake up- hair disheveled, cheeks flushed , eyes droopy.

“You’re so handsome.” She said kissing your nose- smiling when she hears your heart beat quicken.

“That’s rich coming from the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met.”

“Would you guys stop it with that sappy shit!” Your dorm mate said throwing a shoe at you- Rosalie somehow cached it and chucked it back at him.

“Sorry about them.”

“It’s alright, it’s worth it to spend time with you.”

You guys are pretty sappy 94% percent of the time- the other 6% of the time you are on some crackhead shit

“Rose look at this!” “Y/N DON’T GO ON THE CHANDELIER--”

She basically is the only reason your alive

She loves when you pick her up- like loves it more then life itself

She finally gets the loving and comfortable embrace she’s been longing

Will leap into your arms so your guard is always up

Your first kiss is simple but amazing, she doesn’t want to stop but knows she has too

Once you share that first kiss the damn has been broken

Long make-out sessions, quick kisses goodbye, sloppy kisses, french kisses, Eskimo kisses, butterfly kisses- you guys do them all.

One time she bit your lip and pulled on it slightly- you let out a moan and that girl had to physically restrain herself from going further

When becoming more intimate comes up she decides to tell you

She just straight up comes up to you and says it

“Stop panicking-”

“I made out with a vampire- why don’t you have fangs?”

“That’s a myth.”

“Oh wow- that’s a myth but what about the blood thing- cause I love you but I don’t know if I’m into that.”

She explains everything to you calmly- answering all you questions

You end up getting pretty excited and rambling about all sorts of things

“Omg, can you turn into a bat because that’d be sick.”

“No- You’re taking this very well.”

“I’m dating a gorgeous, strong, vampire woman- I couldn’t be happier.”

Rosalie loves you so much

From that day forward there are no secrets

She tells you everything- even about Roy.

You hold her when she starts to get emotional, stroking her back softly

“Thank you for being... you.” She mumbles into you chest.

“It’s my pleasure.”

On a happier note, she loves kissing your neck

Kissing your nose

Kissing you just about everywhere

Holding your hand is a must everywhere

You watch her work on cars and talk to her

She teaches you a few things

Stroking your hair

She spoils you with gifts- you ask her to stop because it’s overwhelming you

You guys don’t wait to get intimate.

In her car or in your dorm is your go to places- the thought of her family or your roommates hearing you makes you skittish

All I’m gonna say is she like’s having power

She only turns you because you get sick- extremely sick.

Treatments aren’t working and Carlisle know’s you won’t make it

He pumps you full of drugs so you don’t feel as much of it as possible

Rosalie holds you and is on the verge of tears that won’t seem to spill

Want’s to take your pain away when you clutch at her blouse and plead with her to make it stop,

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. But I can’t loose you.”

She knew you wanted to be a vampire- she let you make the decision- and the pain was just taking over, but it still killed her

Hold’s you in her arms for day’s waiting for you to wake up

When you do she doesn’t let go

“Rose- Can I get up please?” You rasp out- your throat unbearable dry

“Oh of course.”

Rosalie can’t help but smile when she see’s you smiling at her

She’s about to speak when Alice bursts in the room carrying a mirror “Oh. Y/N you’re so handsome you must see!”

Everyone is somewhat sympathetic but also excited

Rosalie drags you away and swear she’ll be the only one who teaches you about being a vampire- and she does

You guys are an iconic and powerful duo

You insist on carrying her around bridal style since you obtained your newfound strength

She isn’t complaining

Speaking of bridal

You guys get married a few years after your turned

Alice want’s to plan it all and go all out- but you and Rosalie want to plan a smaller arrangement

It’s cute- Alice could’ve made it cuter but it was cute

Wanting to cry during the vows

You guys can break it down on that dance floor- she gave you lessons

You guys go to Paris for your honeymoon- and let’s just say the wedding night does not disappoint

Although the others in the hotel who wanted to sleep are disappointed

You guys are so unbelievably happy together

You’re so glad you found each other, so glad you got to be with the other.

You don’t know what the future holds but whatever happens you know you can get through it together because you have each other.

(Opinions? Also techinically I didn’t lie it did come out when I said it’s just kinda late lmao) @iiconicsfan25 i hope this was okay

#Rosalie hale #rosalie hale imagine #rosalie hale x reader #rosalie hale x male reader #rosalie cullen x reader #Rosalie cullen imagine #rosalie cullen x male reader #twilight x male reader #twilight x reader #twilight imagine #twilight #twilight fanfic #twilight fanficiotn #fanfic #fanficition #request #twilight request

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comfy-whumpee · 3 years

Text

Alfonse

Introducing (or reintroducing, for those who read my Forgive and Forget) a loving father, mob boss and whumper.

@iaminamoodymoodtoday, @wildfaewhump, @ishouldblogmore, @lektric-whump, @that-one-thespian, @raigash

CN: gun, male whumper + female whumpee

Penelope had been home-schooled for her entire life. It was a deliberate decision from her parents. Many home-schooled children were kept with their families because of additional needs on their part; the additional needs in this case were, in fact, the family’s. The Family, to be more specific.

Alfonse, therefore, had been one of Penelope’s tutors for her entire life. They hired some, of course, particularly for the areas in which the parents were not educated. Penelope had private help with her poetry, her violin, and especially her science. Sinclair was a capable tutor in most areas, between sessions in the design room teaching Penelope their craft, and when it came to mathematics, Alfonse was the go-to teacher.

He had a busy schedule, but he always made time in it for her lessons. Half an hour on weekday mornings, an hour on Wednesday and Thursday evenings, and additional classes wherever the local schools or tuition centres put them on offer.

This Thursday evening, the topic is fractions. Penelope despises fractions.

“If I have half of a cake,” Alfonse says, lying on his side on the indigo rug of Penelope’s study room, dividing a cupcake into two equal segments with a knife, “and then I get another cake, and I have all of that cake, how many halves do I have?”

Penelope would rather eat the cake. It’s obvious in her jutting lower lip. But she sighs and hums and says, “Three?”

Alfonse smiles. He cuts off a slice of the cupcake and holds out the blunt table knife to her, and she leans forwards to grab the piece off the end with a self-satisfied grin.

“Now say I have my cake cut into quarters,” Alfonse continues, ignoring the eyeroll he gets in response. He cuts down the middle of the cupcake half. “And I have one quarter, and one half.” He indicates the other half, untouched since its creation. “How many quarters?”

“Three again!”

Alfonse grins this time, and cuts off a little more of the abandoned quarter. This time, Penelope leans forwards first, and he holds it halfway out towards her before eating it himself.

“Dad!” Penelope complains, scandalised.

Alfonse winks. “Don’t tell mappa.”

“I’m eating the rest.”

“Finish your worksheet.”

She huffs. She blows out her little cheeks. She picks up her pen with the pink fluffy bobble on top, and gets to work.

Alfonse gets up, taking the plate with him, just in case she gets any ideas. “Twenty minutes, poppet. Then we’ll try mixed fractions.”

Penelope isn’t listening. She’s gotten to work. Alfonse takes a moment to watch her think, his heart warm. She’s going to be an amazing woman someday.

He sets the plate down on the desk, and steps outside to give her peace. Checking his watch, he heads down to discuss dinner with the cook. Sinclair is at a show tonight, so it’s down to him to keep things running smoothly. Without Sinclair home, maybe he can sneak some extra dessert, too. If Penelope gets her questions right and manages to fit the second worksheet in.

Heading down the main staircase, a figure in the gallery catches his eye. The new girl, he thinks. She’d come on a recommendation from a friend, and he hadn’t really noticed her in her first week, which was a good sign. Had she been assigned to the gallery? Maybe she’s been struggling to find her way around. The house is quite expansive, and there are so many rooms, even Alfonse has trouble giving directions sometimes.

He strolls through to give her a hand, or perhaps just to tell her she can go home. A little dust and disorder in the gallery would be no problem between today and tomorrow, especially not if it’s stressing her out. At least, that’s Alfonse’s opinion; Sinclair might disagree when they get home.

“Lillian, wasn’t it?” he asks, letting her know he’s there. Apparently, he has quite an intimidating presence. “Are you alright?”

The girl turns, wide-eyed. Alfonse feels for her; a big man like him appearing from the evening dimness can be alarming. “Oh, um, Mr – Dechart?”

“That’s me. Why are you still here? Your shift should have finished at five.”

“I, um… I just wanted to finish.”

Alfonse glances around the gallery, but can’t see a single thing left to do. He looks at her more closely, noticing the cleaning bag on the counter opposite the bay window, zipped up. There’s a spray bottle and cloth left out beside it. He crosses the hall to it, while Lillian watches.

Two fingers to the cloth confirms that it’s bone dry.

When Alfonse turns, Lillian is looking far more nervous. But there’s no need for concern just yet. Alfonse keeps his friendly smile. “What exactly were you doing?”

She’s convincing, he’ll give her that, but her eyes drop for a moment too long before she flushes, hands twisting behind her back. “The um, the painting…”

Alfonse doesn’t look. The painting is behind him, and her hands are concealed. “Ah, Frankenthaler. It’s lovely, isn’t it? Did it keep you for a whole,” he pauses, recalling the time he saw on the watch before leaving Penelope, “thirty-five minutes?”

“I’m an art student, I was…”

“Lillian,” Alfonse cuts in, keeping most of his attention on her hands now. “Don’t take me for a fool.”

Her throat bobs in a nervous swallow. Alfonse waits, half-tense and ready, if necessary, to pounce.

When she moves, it’s in an explosion of motion, hand whipping from behind her back as she lunges forwards, and the firearm is already in his face by the time he’s reacting, but there’s no shot when he twists out of the way and grabs for her wrist. A threat, or an attempt to hold him, or a bluff, or perhaps she just can’t quite bring herself to escalate so soon; the possibilities run through the back of his mind as he leverages his weight, twisting her arm until he can bend her trigger finger back, hearing her breath catch and stop as she tries to shoulder herself between his body and their hands.

The gun hits the floor with a clatter and, mercifully, does not go off. Lillian tries to pull back, but Alfonse moves with her, still pulling at her wrist, forcing it above her head until it hits the wall and stays there. Alfonse leans on it as his other hand goes for her pockets, checking for other weapons. She tries to grab the knife first, but he’s got her dominant hand in his, and he yanks it free and tosses it, too, across the parquet floor.

The study room is up the stairs in the east wing. They’re at the front of the house, downstairs. Penelope shouldn’t be hearing a thing.

He’s got fifteen minutes until he has to go back to teach her more fractions.

If he doesn’t go, she might come out and look for him.

There’s fear in Lillian’s wide eyes, now, as she realises how quickly she’s been caught. Alfonse has questions, but first, he needs to move her, and for that, he needs to assess whether she’ll fight.

“You were sent, weren’t you?” he asks her, still holding her against the wall with his size, his free hand at her shoulder, fingers digging in. “Who?”

She seems to have forgotten how to fight back, or has given up on doing so. Her voice emerges in a terrified croak. “I…”

She thinks better of it, and her jaw snaps shut again. She shakes her head.

Not enough time for a negotiation. Too difficult, too noisy, to fight. Alfonse leans closer still, until her neck is craned back against her shoulders to keep him in view, a cowed animal under a predator.

“This is my home,” he says slowly, voice low enough that only she can hear it. The chef might be wondering where he is, but there’s no need to spread the drama. “Someone told you where to come. Someone helped you get a recommendation from our friends. Someone gave you a gun and a knife and told you to use them if anyone realised who you were. I’m going to find out who that is, and then, I may spare you.”

Lillian’s eyes fill with tears. But if she can blush on command, she can likely do this, too. The important thing is that she doesn’t fight back as he yanks her away from the wall, twisting her wrist behind her back. His other hand goes around her throat, pulling up against her jaw tightly. He won’t ask her not to scream – that would be an invitation, really – but he can do his best to prevent it.

He glances down, glimpsing his watch half-hidden under a shirt cuff. Ten minutes.

Maybe he can swing pizza for dinner. It’d help with the fractions.

The dressing room on the first floor, attached to the west wing’s guest room, is not actually a dressing room. The walk-in wardrobe is fortified and equipped for emergencies such as this one. It’s nothing compared to the panic room in the cellar, but then, there’s a slim possibility that the others in the house might need that room before the night is out.

When she sees what’s behind the unassuming eggshell-white door, Lillian suddenly remembers how to struggle, but it’s too little, and much too late. Her attempt to drop herself to the ground is insufficient; he lifts more than she weighs on a regular basis. She’s a strange pick for an assassin or thief. He’ll ask about that, later.

Instead, he hauls her up again, and though her legs drag across the floor and she tries to lift her arms and slide free, he gets her into the padded chair. The straps start at the waist, which is always the hardest, but the arms and ankles are easy after that.

He closes the door behind them before she remembers to shout for help. She’ll have seen Penelope during the week. She may have realised how little his daughter knows.

He’s comforted by the faint click of the soundproofing falling into place. Now, it may as well be only them in the house.

Seven minutes. It goes so fast. He’ll text Sinclair later.

As Lillian stares, Alfonse undoes his cufflinks and tucks them into a pocket. He folds back his cuffs and rolls up his sleeves. He rolls his shoulders, and stretches them, paying extra attention to his right.

Five minutes.

“Any heart problems?”

Lillian blinks, stunned for a moment.

“High blood pressure?”

Slowly, she shakes her head. Her neat bun has gone askew in their struggle, leaving tendrils of dark hair hanging around her face in corkscrews.

“Lovely.” Alfonse reaches up to the top shelf, the one Penelope still can’t reach. From the shoebox upon it, he takes what should be a fully-charged taser.

He clicks it on, sees the lack of light, and flicks it off.

He should really pay more attention to that.

No matter. He puts it away again, clears his throat, and turns. Lillian is still confused, and less tense than she was, and looks up again at him when he stands before her.

One punch, swift and merciless, to the corner of her jaw, knocking it sideways against her own teeth, probably cutting the inside of her cheek, and a second against the flesh of her cheek, his wedding ring catching the skin but not quite splitting it. Later, the small cut-gem pattern of her wound will tell her allies that it was him.

“You’ll tell me who sent you,” he says, pleased to hear that he doesn’t sound even slightly out of breath. “Whether it’s now, or in an hour, or tomorrow, or at the end of next week. The longer it takes you, the worse this is going to get.”

Lillian looks up at him with all the misery and fear she can muster, and Alfonse meets her gaze. She even sniffles.

He swings again, and she flinches, but not as much as an innocent person would. This time, his ring does cut.

He doesn’t give her a chance to repent. He checks his watch, turns on his heel, and leaves her there. On his way downstairs, he messages Sinclair to update them, and when he arrives back in the gallery, he collects her two weapons. The gun goes into the safe behind the Frankenthaler, and the knife tucks into his belt. He pops a head into the kitchen to suggest pizza for dinner, collects two apples from the fruit bowl, and heads upstairs.

Outside Penelope’s room, he pauses, checking his reflection in the window, the light bouncing off from a dark exterior. He brushes a loose lock of hair back, and rolls down his sleeves. One cufflink, then the other, secures them back in place.

He checks her knife. Clean. Two apples in one hand, knife in the other, he knocks on and opens Penelope’s study door.

“You’re late!”

Alfonse laughs, picking up the cupcake plate from the desk and delivering all the items to the rug where Penelope is lying on her front, doodling in the margins of her worksheet. “I’m sorry, I got caught up. I brought apples to help you with our next sheet.”

She wrinkles her nose. “Not more cupcakes?”

“You won’t want any dessert later.”

“Yes I will!”

Alfonse laughs again, sitting down cross-legged across from her. He shifts the cupcake aside on the plate, and lays an apple on it. With swift motions of Lillian’s knife, he divides it into eighths.

“Now, say I have two apples, and I cut them both into eight equal parts…”

#whump #physical whump #ladywhump #protective whumper #beating #manhandling #female whumpee #bound #alfonse #penelope #restrained #blood #gunpoint #knives #family whump #my fic

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