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justtryingtoliveright · 2 years

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Wednesday 17th August 2022

Dear Blog,

Today was a generally okay day. It wasn’t good but wasn’t bad. Parts of the day felt entirely numb, and I had no feeling at all. To be honest I think that those times were the most difficult as when your mind is blank, it’s entirely unfocussed, which made work difficult and I felt like I was constantly forgetting to do things or I’d be in the middle of something and the blankness made it all confusing. It gets more and more like that these days, whether it’s just me being strange or whether I’m just exhausted. Both would make perfect sense.

Work was good today. I think it helps take my mind off things, I really enjoy it!! If I could get paid for something like that I think I’d have a great time, although that is definitely not in my future plans. Work was absolutely manic from the second I walked through the door. There must have been 3 volunteers in there for the morning shift who were finishing up, plus the managers. They were incredibly busy, everyone doing different jobs. They then got me doing sorting, which is something I’ve never really done and did an awful job at it. I didn’t even get to finish before I was set back to the tills, which was a relief. I was by myself on the tills in the afternoon, which I think I prefer to be honest. When there’s more than one person on it feels like there’s nothing to do sometimes. I did a lot of reorganising, which I also really enjoy, especially when I get to colour coordinate stuff!! I did a lot of restocking and generally had so much fun at work. The assistant manager also told me that I’m a pleasure to work with and always engaged and like to be busy. That was the confidence boost I needed.

The one real bother for today is results day. I get my A level results tomorrow and know for a fact that I’ve really messed up. My predictions for tomorrow:

Biology: B

Chemistry: E

Maths: C

Further Maths: U

I’ve been incredibly stressed about that today and its made me feel so incredibly sick. A levels generally went so badly and I do feel very let down in many ways.

I don’t agree with exams generally for many reason. Firstly, how can you base a qualification off a set off exam questions based off purely knowledge recall? This counts for all subjects. Even if you have to analyse parts and expand your knowledge to answer the question it always required knowledge recall and if you struggle with that, or stress affects it (which is my case), then exams feel like an impossible feat. Secondly, if you had a bad day, had a lot going on in your personal life or any other possible problem, your exams can be badly affected and in that case, that’s your chance at a good grade completely obliterated. On the same kind of lines, if the person marking your exam has had a particularly bad day, their marking may be more critical, and may not give you marks where you could argue that you’d deserve them.

One more argument I will make is that exam conditions are not always the ideal conditions for some people to work. I find myself in this category. For me, I find full silence more stressful to work in than slightly noisy condition. It’s something that has only affected me for 2 years now but I have a problem that exam conditions silence is never silence. In exams although there isn’t talking to be a distraction the lack of causes me to be fully immersed and distracted by every other sound in the room. There’s been times in our mocks where because the clock was ticking (thankfully they used ones that don’t tick for the real exams), I spent 10+ minutes not able to focus because I couldn’t erase the ticking from my mind. Exam season is also hay fever season so that was something else that was a distraction for me. I will also point out, of course they can’t help suffering with it, it’s just unfortunate that my brain focuses on each sound s it does when I’m in silent conditions. Having it makes me feel guilty because it cannot be helped but I struggle.

Other reasons I feel let down: covid has really messed up our A level years. These exams were the first formal exams a lot of our year sat since year 6 (not including mocks as they’re different in a way). Also the fact that we were behind in the first place by not doing GCSEs, exacerbated by the fact that learning was messy, some was remote (which doesn’t work for a lot of people), and some was even spent in lockdowns. With all of that they’re still using out year to try and lower the grade boundaries back to the 2019 level. One more thing is the fact that the advanced information we were given was incredibly inaccurate a lot of the time. I used the advanced information as I was meant to and studies other topics as well as those listed, but one some of the papers the advanced information was very misleading. For example, on the first biology paper one of the top listed topics (so should be one of the most credits) was photosynthesis, for there to be a single 5 mark question that was a FILL IN THE GAP. It’s the first time ever that I’ve wanted more questions on photosynthesis. I revised it so much for it to hardly come up. In the same subject, enzymes didn’t appear ont the advanced information at all but came up a lot in (I think) all 3 papers!! The3rd biology paper also had a chemistry topic in that we don’t even cover in biology, which was very surprising to see at the time. .

The last reason I fell let down is the leak of our chemistry paper. More than a week before we sat it, the paper was circulating around so much so that over 5000 students got access to it. There is evidence that AQA was told a week in advance about this leak and it was reported by many people, yet nothing was done about it and we found out after we’d already sat the paper that some people had an unfair advantage and a week to get all the answers they needed.

There’s a couple of things that I can’t get out of my mind that have been in there for weeks. For example, the fact that I didn’t realise it at the time, but all throughout my time at my first secondary I was bullied by different people a lot. Initially it was the girls who I called my friends, who I eventually left the group of because I was treated so incredibly poorly by them. They spent at least 4 months trying to kick me out while I had no other friends to fall back on. Then there was J and A, who took the piss out of me whenever I was with them, whether it be social or because the seating plan had me with them in lesson. Then there was C, who was manipulating me a lot to conform to her and be her mini follower. There was also the drama between T and M that I managed to get in the middle of, and M and MB ganging up on me at times in the middle of it all. At that place I just seemed to be hated by everyone.

It is 00:45 on results day currently so I will sign off here

Thanks all xx

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further-from-maths · 2 years

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Reminder that explaining concepts to someone else remains an awesome revision strategy.

Write out explanations for how you solve questions (with help from the mark scheme if you really struggle). It’ll help commit it to memory!

The memorising aspect of revision is something I really struggle with, so I think from now on that’s going to be one of my go-to methods to get stuff to stick.

If you don’t have someone you can send your explanations to, do it by yourself! I personally use a whiteboard :)

Anyway, have a good half term! Make sure to do your best to prepare for your exams, but also bear in mind that you need adequate rest to allow your brain time to process all the stuff you’re working on. Take care of yourself! I know you can do this! <3

- Flash

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

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Caught Red-handed

Corpse Husband x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Swearing, Struggling with migraines

Genre: Fluff, Comfort, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Having suffered from migraines all their life, Y/N knows better than to give them much attention or let them hinder their work too much. However, their boyfriend is a lot more worried than they are and has taken it as his personal duty to ease their pain as much as he possibly can.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for your request, I’m so sorry it has taken me so long to get to it, write and post it, but here it finally is and I hope you come across it and read it! I’ve never experienced migraines nor have I known someone who has so if I’ve misrepresented or written any misinformation, anyone who catches it, feel free to let me know either in the comments or in my inbox/messages! Love, Vy ❤

The first time I got a headache was in the middle of math class in eighth grade. I remember it so distinctly because I had never before experienced such sudden and such intense pain. I got to go home early that day and spent a good portion of the day trying to sleep it off but to no avail.

Since then I’ve grown used to having to deal with a pain so strong it renders me unable to function for a whole day about two times a month. Sometimes, I even try to be stubborn with it - I try to push through as much work as I can despite the migraine, but that never works out for a long time considering it ends up crippling me in the end. That’s never kept me from trying over and over again though!

Now, to contrast my nonchalance and even annoyance with these pesky attacks, is my boyfriend Corpse’s concern over them. I’ve tried explaining to him that I’ve grown used to them and that I try not to let them bother me and that he shouldn’t stress over them so much but I may as well be talking to a wall because all he has to do is see me squint my eyes or cringe and he enters concerned-mother mode. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate it to no end, I just don’t want him worrying over something so small. Also, a minor convenience: if the migraine doesn’t hinder me from tending to my tasks, Corpse will. He’ll make sure I’m off the task I’m working and transported into bed in an instant.

That’s why I’m now clenching my jaw, struggling to maintain a poker face as I work on an important project I have to send to my boss by the start of next week. I’ve got plenty of time, but I like to stay on top of my work so it doesn’t pile on top of me, you know what I’m saying. Corpse is sitting on the couch next to me, casually glancing at me every now and then while remaining quiet as to not disturb me. So far so good, he hasn’t noticed anything and, if I didn’t know any better I would sigh in relief. There’s nothing to trigger the pain to arise any further - the lights are dim, I’m staying hydrated, and I downed two painkillers in the bathroom about an hour and a half ago - so I’m sure I’ll be in the clear at least until dinner.

“Wanna watch a movie when you’re done?“ Corpse asks, “Unless you’re tired or anything...“

I flash him a grateful smile, giving his knee a squeeze of reassurance, “I’d love to, babe. But I can’t promise that I won’t fall asleep.”

He chuckles, “Yeah, I know you’ve got a tendency of doing that.” Giving me a side-glance he adds, “It’s cute.”

I roll my eyes, already sensing a blush creeping up on my cheeks and neck which I hide by turning to face my laptop screen. One thing I can’t hide though is the wide grin that’s spread across my face as I mutter: “Shut up.”

Just then, a particularly sharp jolt of pain courses through my head, testing that ability to maintain a resting face. Thankfully, Corpse is turned in the opposite direction, searching for his phone, so I allow myself a brief cringe at the discomfort.

Guess the painkillers are dying down on me, I think to myself, a second away from sighing exasperatedly at the thought that I have to down two more. It was wishful of me to think I could enjoy the luxury of a dull ache until dinner, now the migraine is straight up mocking me.

I quietly stand up from the couch and make my way to the bathroom so I can take another dose of aspirin because I don’t think I’ll be able to focus on my work for very long if it keeps hitting me with this intensity. Opening the door to the small cabinet above the sink, I automatically reach out for the bottle of pills but stop when I see a surprise.

Directly in front of the bottle stands a note written in, you guessed it, Corpse’s handwriting.

‘Already losing effect, huh? When are you thinking of coming clean?‘

Well shoot, am I that transparent?

I sheepishly exit the bathroom, walking back into the living room where Corpse greets me with the same stance as a parent greeting their kid who’s gotten home past curfew: legs crossed, arms folded over his chest, one eyebrow raised, the whole nine yards.

“Yeah, they’re already losing effect.“ I admit, a small apologetic smile tugging at the corners of my mouth, my cheeks burning with an embarrassed blush. “And I wasn’t gonna tell you at all.” I hurry to add: “Please don’t be mad though.“

Corpse shifts slightly, his gaze giving me a onceover as he contemplates how to pursue the case. I’ve already got several arguments/defenses ready - the perks of working for a lawyer - but I know he’ll dismiss all of them no matter how strong they might come off as in court. Bottom line: even statements that would fly in court can’t fly with Corpse sometimes. Especially when my health and well-being are the topic of observation.

“What have we said about lying?“ He finally asks, causing me to cringe and ball my fists in guilt.

However, I still have my arguments ready: “You never asked me so I never technically lied.” One might say I have quite the audacity to plead not guilty right now, even though I’ve been caught red-handed, but what can I say, I’m stubborn in nature. And Corpse knows this, he’s just testing me for his own amusement.

“Poor excuse, Y/N.“ He says with disapproval, shaking his head and fully embracing his disappointed parent persona. “You’re lucky I’m feeling generous today. So, as punishment for hiding the truth from me, you are to ditch that project you’ve been bugging yourself over and come cuddle and watch a movie with me. Bonus points for you if you fall asleep.“

I needn’t be told twice - not only will it wipe that look off his features but it’ll also get earn me a movie night with the additional benefit of cuddling with my boyfriend? - how could I refuse?

I can’t help it, I just gotta push my luck here and poke the bear with a stick, “If the punishments are so sweet I might start being dishonest more often.“

Corpse rolls his eyes, scooting on the couch and tapping the space he’s freed up for me, “I said I was feeling generous, don’t bet on it happening often though.”

Alright, enough luck-pushing, I should be grateful for this generosity instead. I should be using it to the max.

So, what’s stopping you from doing just that?

Good question, brain, good question.

Head still pounding just not as intensely, I slip under the thin soft comforter to find myself not only wrapped in it but also in Corpse’s arm, his warm embrace bringing me instant comfort, walking me on the tight-rope of falling asleep right away.

“Sneaky bastard.“ I attempt to mutter, yawning halfway through.

I feel his lips on the top of my head, placing a quick and gentle kiss in my hair before he says, “You’re welcome, babe.”

Count your lucky stars, Y/N. You’ve got one of the good ones.

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haikyu-hoe · 3 years

Text

Study partner

Kageyama x reader

one shot, fluff

warnings: none

If you like this fic, a reblog/ like is appreciated, and you can check out my other fanfics too! :)

———————————————————————

You were always a good student, but you didn’t stand out so much. You had a small group of friends, followed the rules, did what was asked of you without questioning it. So when your math teacher asked you to tutor another student, you accepted, not even asking who it was. Looking back on it, you should have. You never hated anyone, but like every human being, there were people you’d rather… avoid. Kageyama Tobio of class 1-3 was one of them. Despite having a rather reserved personality, you were really friendly deep down, and were a quite enthusiastic person. Kageyama was the opposite. He never so much as smiled, he only frowned and scowled. But it was too late- you accepted, and you couldn’t let down Mrs. Nakamura. So, taking a deep breath in, you opened the door to the school’s library and walked in silence to a table where a seemingly angry black-haired boy was sitting.

“Hi, Kageyama. I’m y/k”, you said in a prudent tone. He already seemed upset, no need to make it worst. In an hour or two it would be done. You checked the clock, took a deep breath, and took out a manual.

Kageyama was quiet the whole time, and you didn’t even try to make conversation, simply talking when he needed explanations. His homework was progressing at a good pace, and you were even already done with yours. You could be out of there in, let’s see… half an hour maybe 45 minutes. That was ok. Feeling snacky, you took out a box of homemade cookies from your bag as Kageyama solved a problem. As you took a cookie out, you could see him eyeing it.

“Did you want one?”, you asked politely, tipping the box over to him.

“N- sure.”, he said and quickly grabbed one, as if you were going to change your mind if he didn’t hurry. Strange boy.

As you had thought, after half an hour, you were walking out the library and all the way to your house.

———

It was now Thursday, time for your second appointment with Kageyama. You headed for the library, a tad less nervous than the first time. This time, you had brought him a nice box of cookies, maybe that would warm him up to you.

“Hey Kageyama, I brought you more of the cookies. Are you ready to-”

“I don’t like your cookies, let’s just work.”, he cut you off. His face was all red, and he was looking away. You weren’t sure why this hurt so bad, but tears flooded your eyes. You dropped the box on the table anyways and calmly walked away. Your vision was blurry with tears, but you still grabbed a book on the way out, you had been waiting for that one.

You weren’t expected home for two more hours so you headed for the nice student break room, where you could read in peace. There was practically no one, and you got captivated by your book, forgetting about Kageyama Tobio of class 1-3.

Who knows how long you sat there? What matters is that you got interrupted suddenly by… Kageyama.

“I need help with number 3.”, he said in a cold tone. You looked up. You sighed and got up.

“Fine, let me explain it to you.”, you brought him to a table and helped him, and then got back to your book. You left about half an hour later without a goodbye.

———

Monday again, third studying session with Kageyama. You show up reluctantly, but to your surprise, he isn’t even there. You were going to do your homework anyways- you sit down at the usual table when you notice a piece of paper.

it reads “Meet me at the school gate. Thanks.”

You recognize the bad handwriting; it’s Kageyama’s. What does this mean?? Maybe he just wants to study elsewhere. It would be mean if you stood him up, and you weren’t rude. Putting your books back in your backpack with a sigh, you realized you were feeling stressed about this. With a sigh, you left the library and walked to the school gate at a quick pace.

He was indeed standing there. He was fidgeting as if he was also feeling stressed. This was getting weirder by the minute.

Taking a deep breath in, you wave at him.

“Kageyama! What’s up?”, you say.

He turns abruptly towards you, as if he wasn’t expecting you to show up.

“I wanted to, well, apologize. I did like your cookies. Follow me.”, he said quickly, as if you’d change your mind and go away.

You stood there a few instants, in shock. Where was he taking you? Kageyama was so strange, and you were a bit scared, yet excited. You blinked and realized he was already several feet’s away. You jogged to get back by his side and you walked in silence until he stopped in front of a local restaurant.

He went in, still not saying a word. You asked several questions, but without paying any attention to you, he ordered you guys some food, and went to sit at a table by the window. Giving up, you sat in front of him.

“Thanks for the food, Kageyama. Although i don’t understand why you’re doing this”, you said digging in your plate. You looked out the window and into the lively streets.

“Because… Because i reacted badly to your tutoring since… since i have a crush on you.”, he said blushing like mad, looking very grumpy.

“What??”, you were so confused, but yet it kinda made sens right? That’s why he had been so shy! “Since when? I’m still confused”, you added.

“Ever since the beginning of the school year. You’re an idiot if you didn’t notice.”, he mumbled.

“Hey!! Wait is this a date then?”, you said laughing a bit. Kageyama was really cute with his pouty red face, deep blue eyes and dark silky hair. And it is true that you caught him staring a few times…

“NO!! Are you stupid? Why would this be a date? I just came to apologize-”, he said, clearly panicking.

“Relax, this is nice. And how about a real date this weekend then?”, you said, still laughing.

“Sure”, he replied, calming down and looking a bit surprised.

You left a few minutes later, kissing his cheek before walking home, leaving him to blush on the sidewalk.

———

Today was your date with Kageyama, the real one. You were waiting for him on a park bench, scrolling mindlessly on your phone. He sat silently besides you, and you took his hand silently to guide him further. There was a nice fountain deeper in the park, and you sat in silence in front of it. The view was beautiful,just a few days of sunshine piercing through the clouds. The trees were blooming and Kageyama looked so sweet in this golden lightning.

“You know, you didn’t have to act so rude… I wouldn’t have judged you. Besides, i like hanging out with you, this is fun!”, you said calmly.

Kageyama blushed a bit, and muttered a bunch of incomprehensible words. He then got closer to you, putting his hand on yours. His other hand went up to your shoulder as he dragged you closer. With your free hand, you got his hair out of his face to look in his deep eyes, before trailing it down to his neck. You both got closer and closer, until your lips met in a soft kiss.

He backed off suddenly after a few seconds, cheeks flushing pink. He looked confused and shocked.

“Wait. Does this mean you like me too?”, he asked with a mistrustful look in his sapphire eyes.

“Pftt who’s the idiot now? Are you really asking yourself that question?”, you said, mocking him a bit, before getting closer to him again.

“I understand… I think.”, he said in a shy tone before kissing you again. You shared a passionate kiss for long minutes, sometimes stopping to look tenderly at each other, touching your foreheads together. His hand went all over your arms, stroked your hair, grabbed your tights, like he couldn’t get enough. Meanwhile you we’re hanging on tight to his neck, another hand on his heaving chest. Your fingertips twirled in his jet black hair as the kiss got rougher.

You eventually let go of each other, simply holding hands in the pink and orange sunset.

“So, am i your boyfriend? Like how does this work-”, said Kageyama, breaking the comfortable silence. He seemed nervous again, fidgeting with his hands.

“I’d like that, Kageyama”, you said softly before kissing his cheek.

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forevfangirlwrites · 3 years

Note

Okay so either a teacher AU, secret relationship AU, more actress Annabeth, or cheerleader Annabeth? I love all of your writing so really anything is amazing

Betting is not encouraged at Jupiter High but that doesn’t stop half the students from forming a pool.

“They hate each other,” Katie asserts, rolling her eyes at the Stolls’ nonsense.

“Or, and hear me out,” Travis holds up his hands, “they’re actually flirting with each other.”

“Who flirts by being mean? That’s ridiculous.”

Travis, looking taken aback by her outburst, rubs the back of his neck meekly. “Some people do…”

Katie rolls her eyes again and turns back to the math homework incidentally assigned by the subject of conversation.

Ms. Chase was one of the hardest teachers at the school, but damned if everyone that entered didn’t walk out with a comprehensive understanding of mathematics.

Silena Beauguard, a senior, who had hated every moment of the class the year before, now sang praises of Ms. Chase and just how easy Calc was now. The girl had even decided to get a math minor.

Katie’s not quite at that level yet, but there’s no time to dwell on it as the bell rings.

“I’m telling ya, you should get in on this,” Connor says. “Will bet twenty that they don’t actually hate each other but aren’t flirting either.”

“What kind of bet is that?”

Connor shrugs. “Don’t know, but it’s easy money.”

Shaking her head, she looks around in search of the other Stoll. Travis is lagging behind, suspiciously quiet, which usually means he’s planning some obnoxious prank on her.

“Travis, hurry up, we’re going to be late,” she urges against her better judgement.

Surprisingly though, he complies, and they make it to history with time to spare.

Mr. Jackson is the kind of teacher that encourages dressing up for a mock historical debate. But his energy is a bit contagious and makes the topics bearable.

He’s got a wide smile on his face today as he starts writing on the board, just as the second bell rings.

“Today,” he turns to address the class. “We’re going to be covering—“

A knock on the door interrupts him and everyone turns their attention to the front of the class.

Despite not getting along, the two teachers often interact with each other. Because standing at the door is none other than Ms. Chase.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she begins in a tone that doesn’t sound like she’s that sorry. “But Ka—”

She interrupts herself as her eyes land on the green letters on the board. “Are you talking about Hamilton? The musical?”

Mr. Jackson, keeping a very neutral face, responds, “Yes. There’s a lot to be learned from it.”

“Are you sure it’s not an excuse to just listen to a musical?”

The conversation is wholly civil with no undercurrent of anything in particular, but the whole class is watching in raptured silence.

“What brings you here Ms. Chase?” Mr. Jackson asks instead of replying.

“Katie.” Ms. Chase turns to the class. “You forgot your homework on the lunch table, I saw it when I was walking by.”

She takes two steps into the classroom as Katie, ears burning red, hastens to meet her. “And given that it’s for my class, I thought I’d return it,” Ms. Chase continues.

Katie mumbles a thank you as she accepts the paper, and hurries back to her seat, not wanting more eyes on her.

“How nice of you, Ms. Chase.” Mr. Jackson says. It’s a complete sentence but it feels like there’s things left unsaid as she turns back to look at him with a raised eyebrow.

“I’ll let you get on with your class,” is all she says before stepping back out of the room. Mr. Jackson turns back to the board as Connor whispers to Travis.

“Dude, did you see? He was totally looking at her when she handed Katie her homework.”

Katie rolls her eyes. Of course, this bet business comes up again.

“But did you hear they way they were talking to each other,” Miranda whispers from behind her, evidently hearing the conversation. “They hate each other.”

Before Katie can shush all of them, Mr. Jackson turns back to the class.

“Anything I’m missing over there?”

Stifling a groan, she shakes her head. “Actually, Mr. Jackson,” Connor speaks up, immediately overriding her answer.

“We were wondering if you’ve ever seen Hamilton?”

Thankfully, Mr. Jackson is also the kind of teacher to cut some slack, because he responds.

“Yeah, we saw it last year and it’s an incredible stage performance.”

“We?” Connor asks again, in an all too innocent voice.

Any other teacher and he would have been reprimanded but Mr. Jackson looks too caught off guard by the question to even say anything.

“Yes…me and my…girlfriend.”

She will never forget the moment that the whole class collectively lost their shit.

A silent shift, but the bulged eyes say everything, and even Mr. Jackson looks uneasy at the way they are staring at him.

“Right, so let’s get back on track. Hamilton…”

And despite her best intentions to try to pay attention to what he’s saying, the note passing between the Stolls get the better of her as the betting pool started to crumble.

-.-

“Maybe she doesn’t know he has a girlfriend and that’s why she’s flirting?”

Travis nods thoughtfully. “But then why would he flirt back?”

“Guys, lets face it, they don’t like each other.” And with that she turns back to her locker, her final words on the matter.

“Don’t know about that Katie Kat,” Travis says, still contemplating how to interpret this news. He’s not the only one, the entire class burst into conversation as soon as the bell had rang and PE next period made it all too easy to continue talking.

“I agree,” Connor adds with a smirk. “You’re pretty bad at figuring out when people like each other.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She turns angrily towards Connor, only to find him cackling. Travis remains, once again, suspiciously quiet. And once again, before she can think further on what that means, the bell rings.

Walking into math has never been so…charged before today. The entire class is buzzing when Ms. Chase claps for attention.

“Alright class, we’re going to pick up where we left off on—”

But it’s difficult for anyone to pay attention and even Ms. Chase stops in the middle of a formula to address the obvious tension.

“What’s going on with you all today?”

Suddenly the whole class is silent. Her sharp grey eyes scan the class before landing on Travis and Connor.

“Well boys, you always know what’s going on.” She waits for an answer.

“Well,” Travis starts (after a lot of nudging from Connor). “We found out that Mr. Jackson has a girlfriend.”

The surprise is evident on her face. It’s rare to see Ms. Chase look taken aback, but she composes herself quickly enough.

“Good for him, why does that matter to all of you? A teacher’s personal life is allowed to be private.”

One day Connor will stop himself from speaking without a filter. Today is, clearly, not that day.

“Have you met her?”

Ms. Chase is exactly the kind of teacher that would never let anything like this stand but by some miracle of the gods, she’s not only taken back for a second time, it’s enough for her to not actually reprimand him.

“I..uh..yes, I have, not that it should matter to you.” Her composure, however, is lost on the entire class that, for the second time in that day, collectively loses their shit.

“Quiet!” Ms. Chase is still commanding enough to get everyone to shut up though.

“What’s she like?” Some girl in the back asks.

“She’s fine, now that’s not the point of—”

A loud knock at the open door has everyone’s attention.

And of course, of all the teachers, Mr. Jackson is standing there with his arms crossed.

“She’s great actually,” he says loudly.

For the first time, Ms. Chase actually rolls her eyes at the words.

“It doesn’t matter, that should not be a topic of discussion.”

Mr. Jackson nods. “You’re right. But for the record, she’s great.” And with that he’s walking away again.

Ms. Chase actually rubs her face, letting out a huge sigh. She mutters something that Katie can’t make out.

“Okay, that’s enough, we’re getting through this formula now.”

She doesn’t know how they get through the class.

-.-

“Maybe—”

Katie cuts him off before he can say another word.

“Connor, please do not deposit another theory, I’ve heard like fifteen today.”

“Can you blame me? This is big news!”

She can’t, honestly. Despite her best efforts, she can’t stop thinking about it either. “No, I don’t blame you. I just can’t right now. Plus, I have a theory of my own I need to test.”

She shuts her locker and turns to her right. “Travis? Can I talk to you for a second?”

School’s out and most of the students have left, she’s only staying behind for Art Club and Travis and Connor usually chill with her for a bit before driving off. It’s been a long day, but she thinks she’s figured out at least one thing from all this chaos.

Connor immediately peaces out, walking down the hall as Travis looks nervously at her.

“What’s up?”

“Is there anything you want to tell me?”

She can see a hint of red flushing is face. “I don’t—”

“I’m SO sorry to interrupt but you guys NEED to see this NOW!” Connor’s whisper yelling and beckoning them towards a classroom door.

Without even looking at her Travis immediately jogs to his brother, Katie following behind, shaking her head.

The door is only open a little bit, but it’s enough to hear what’s going on.

“I can’t let you shit talk my girlfriend!” Mr. Jackson’s voice is clearly recognizable.

“I didn’t shit talk and it was so not the time to bring that up.” Ms. Chase’s clear voice is also obvious.

“Okay maybe I shouldn’t have said that, but I can’t let anyone say something bad about MY girlfriend.”

“I didn’t even say anything bad!”

“You said fine, FINE. Are you kidding me? That’s—”

“I think I should be allowed to say whatever I want.”

Katie looks over at Travis and Connor, both of whom are staring with wide eyes at the whole exchange. There’s no way she just said that.

“No.” Mr. Jackson’s voice sounds like a pout.

Ms. Chase sighs. “You’re so stubborn.”

“I have to be to date a goddess.”

There’s a small chuckle at the words. “You’re actually ridiculous.” Ms. Chase sounds unbelievably fond.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “But you still love me so I’m not gonna change.”

They can hear the smile in her voice when she responds. “I would never change you.”

“Even when I disrupt your class?”

There’s a beat of silence. “You’re lucky I love you.”

There’s another chuckle followed by more silence and Connor nods back in the direction of the hallway. They immediately run all the way down to her locker.

“NO FREAKING WAY!” Connor is leaning against the lockers as Katie automatically starts opening hers even though there’s nothing she needs to get from there.

“You can’t tell anyone.”

Connor looks at her. “What? Are you crazy?”

“Look, they clearly want to keep it private. We shouldn’t spill.”

Connor makes a face. “I mean it, Connor.”

“Ugh! Fine!” He turns towards Travis. “If you weren’t my brother, I would have kicked you for choosing someone with morals.”

And with that, he walks towards the doors.

It’s the last bit of confirmation she needs. She turns back to Travis who’s still nervously teetering close to her.

“So? Figure out if there’s anything you want to ask me yet?”

Travis makes a face. “You’re making fun of me!”

Smiling, she steps closer to him. “No, I’m not. I’m not mean to people I like.”

The sparkle in his eyes at her words makes her heart soar and she think she gets why Ms. Chase puts up with Mr. Jackson. It’s easy when the other person makes your heart flutter like that.

A/N: Hello! Thanks for the prompts! Another person also requested a teacher AU so I combined that request with yours and added some secret relationship in there! Told from an outside perspective but I hope you liked this!

#percy and annabeth #percabeth #percabeth fic #percabeth au #percabeth teacher au

60 notes · View notes

jackidy · 3 years

Text

To Be Struck

Rating: T Pairings: EnnoTana Characters: Various, focus on Karasuno and Ennoshita. Universe: Canon Summary: “He has no idea, does he.” Yamaguchi states, having waited with the third years and Tsukishima for the captain to show up only to bare witness to him be accosted by a group of boys. They can’t tell for sure what’s being said only that Ennoshita seems to be surprised, hands up in mock surrender before a relaxed, more apologetic pose takes over, the tell-tale sign of nervousness as he scratches the back of his neck.

“Oh no, theres not a single thought of how handsome he actually is behind those big old brown eyes.” Narita states, earning a grunt of agreement from the other third years and something akin to a laugh from Tsukishima. “The boy is oblivious to how handsome he is.”

AO3

---

The shirt fits better than he thought it would, taking the quiet moments before the rest of the team would show up to simply get used to the new found feeling of confidence that he had gained over the school break but also seemed to multiply as soon as he’d donned the number 1 shirt. Would Daichi be proud of his progress? Probably, Sugawara? Definitely, smile tugging at his lips in memory of this morning’s phone call, the former Karasuno setter clearly running late for university but still making time to give Ennoshita a fairly out of breath pep talk about he’s got this.

He offers good mornings to Ukai as their coach yawns past, followed by the team who seem to be either the same level of tired or overly excited to either be back with the team after the long break or the potential new players who would be joining. More had signed up this year than ever before, the team’s success at nationals having attracted more attention than Ennoshita had, truthfully, expected, hating that this would happen during his tenure as captain and not to another.

But then, would he really want to inflict this on anyone else?

“We missed you at lunch today, not avoiding us now that you’re captain, are ya?” Kinoshita teases, Ennoshita laughing at the over dramatics as the tawny haired man launched into an over dramatic spiel, leaning against Narita as he lamented over being left behind on the benches, beckoning Yamaguchi in to join him only to be rejected by the second year. “Our boy gets promoted and now he’s too good for us mere bench warmers.”

“No, no, I had to go see Takeda senpai and sort out club stuff, more so since they’re planning a Miyagi based training camp this year.” Ennoshita laughs out more than speaks, pulling the team fleece on, pushing his locker closed only to pause as everything goes quiet. Staring at the team in mild confusion, they just stare back, a few slacked jaws and even a few rosy cheeks amongst them, turning to Kinoshita and Narita for help only to find them in a similar state.

“What?” He asks the silent room, looking with increasing confusion and anxiety between his teammates, hoping one of them would give in and explain just why everyone had gone quiet only to find nothing to cure his nervous curiosity. “Alright then, I need to talk to coach so I guess I’ll see you in the gym.” Ennoshita adds after a few more moments of silence, sighing and dismissing himself from the locker room.

He’s only somewhat confused and mostly annoyed when the talking almost immediately picks up again after he leaves, the team speaking in hushed whispers over something that would undoubtedly cause trouble for him later.

---

The constant giggling confuses him more than anything, Ennoshita frowning as another group of first years pass him in the corridor, the group breaking into hushed whispers, giggles with one or more cheeks flushed a pale pink. He’d assumed it was in response to one of the others, his fellow third years nothing short of attractive, his thoughts lingering on the teams ace a little too long before sighing and shaking his head.

Tanaka Ryuunosuke was a subject best not dwelled on, least he end up losing himself to a train of thought best not considered. The ace wasn’t interested in him beyond friendship, Tanaka’s romantic interests focused on cute dark-haired girls with striking features, the only part of that list Ennoshita could be associated with was the dark hair.

“Hi, Ennoshita.”

“Umm…hi?” He’s confused, more giggling before the group of third years is gone, Ennoshita’s frown deepening as he headed for the back of the class where everyone was waiting for him, food in various stages of being eaten. They hadn’t waited for him and he’s thankful for it, sliding into the chair between Kinoshita and Tanaka with a groan, sliding further into the seat as hands fumbled with his bag for his lunch, still frowning as he dug in without a word.

“You keep frowning like that and your face’ll stick.” Noya speaks around a mouthful of food, both Narita and Kinoshita grimacing before Narita smacks his arm with a comment to stop being gross. It works for the most part, the libero chewing and swallowing with such vigour the rest of the group is surprised he doesn’t choke. “What’s bothering you, cap?”

Ennoshita pauses, trying to find the words to accurately describe his issue before sighing. “People keep giggling when I walk past them, I have no idea why though.” He replies honestly, oblivious to the looks the others were giving him as he continued his train of thought. “At first I thought it was because I was with one of you guys but they continued even when it was just me.”

The shared look between Kinoshita, Narita and Nishinoya only adds to his ever growing confusion, head turning to the left with hope of getting an answer from Tanaka only to be met with a flushed yet mystified look. Why was he looking at him like that? What was he missing that everyone else was apparently so clearly aware of? Snapping his fingers in front of the others face, Ennoshita bites back a laugh as Tanaka jumps, nearly spilling his drink on himself.

“Wait, why did you think the giggling was down to one of us four?” Narita pipes up after a moment, Ennoshita looking over to him whilst the group focused on the captain once more. Ennoshita shrugs, faking a thoughtful look before grinning lazily, something teasing and mischievous in his tone.

“Because you’re all a bunch of clowns.”

---

The trip to Johzenji is by no means quiet but the din of Nishinoya and Hinata hyping up the nervous first years isn’t enough to break him from his thoughts of the incident a mere thirty minutes ago. A second year, from Yamaguchi’s class if memory serves, had confessed to him. Face flushed, voice stammering and a love letter clutched so tightly in her hands Ennoshita was surprised she hadn’t ripped the letter by accident.

He wasn’t going to return her feelings, he only just recognised her never mind the fact he didn’t know her name, but he didn’t even get a chance to politely reject her before Tanaka had come from seemingly nowhere, taken his wrist and dragged him away with a gruff comment of how they were going to be late. The girl had just seen the look on Tanaka’s fae, looked at the tan hand clamped around his wrist and just profusely apologised saying she’d misunderstood.

What had she misunderstood? There wasn’t anything to misunderstand! Sure, Tanaka had perhaps been a little more gruff than usual but hadn’t his last class of the day been maths? It wasn’t one of his stronger subjects, maybe it had just put the vice-captain into an irritable mood. But doubts had only began to settle in when the other had spent the majority of the ride sat next to Haruka, the team’s new libero, who had made it his life mission to cheer the Ace up.

“Gummy for your thoughts?” Yachi asks, voice a hushed whisper as she offers the bag of gummies to Ennoshita, looking around the seat as she checked to see if the rest of the team had heard her at all. He takes one, mulling over if he would tell her anyway, the team manager hastily shoving the sweets back into her bag as Kageyama stalked past to ask Coach Ukai something.

“This is the part where you tell me what’s troubling you.” Yachi teased when Ennoshita remained silent, Ennoshita laughing before shrugging. He’d grown close to Yachi since she’d joined the team, more so after Daichi announced him as the next captain and they started working together more frequently once the year began. It had earned no short amount of teasing over his ability to talk to girls easily from Kinoshita and the question of if they were dating from one of the overly curious first years.

“It’s nothing, I’m just a little confused about somethings is all.”

“Such as?”

Ennoshita clicks his tongue, elbow against the window frame and jaw resting in his palm, silently wishing the vibrations caused by bad suspension would perhaps shake the thoughts out so he could finally focus on things more important than everyone’s new reactions to him. “People keep paying attention to me and, just now, had a girl confess her feelings for me. Only to apologise when Tanaka grabbed me and dragged me off so we could go, saying she’d misunderstood.”

“I don’t get what there was to misunderstand.” Other than the fact she had feelings for me, he adds silently, a troubled look on his face, accepting another gummy when Yachi offered it to him, the younger blonde seemingly lost in her thoughts as he continued. “He just took my wrist and said we were running late.”

He doesn’t confess as to how he can still feel the ghost of that touch on his wrist, that he humoured the idea that Tanaka was so annoyed about the interaction because he was jealous and not because they were going to be late. That the concept of her misunderstanding was that they were dating any not something else that was more trivial than the idea of them dating.

“Maybe she thought you two were, you know, together.”

He chokes, wheezing and waving off the hand of Narita dangerously close to hitting him in the back, waiting for the middle blocker to sit back down and resume conversation with Kinoshita before turning his attention to Yachi. She looks concerned for the most part, a hint of underlying smugness so reminiscent of Kiyoko when she made an all too correct assumption about something that, for a brief moment, Ennoshita feels like he’s sat with her instead.

“Okay, even if she did think that, it doesn’t explain everything else.”

“No but I’m sure you’ll figure it out, captain.”

---

It takes only five seconds of knowing Terushima Yuuji for Ennoshita to realise the man is tenacious if not a little bit odd, leaning away as the fellow captain leaned in, the feeling of being observed by a predator becoming increasingly more present. Pregame handshakes weren’t supposed to last this long, remembering how even the tense ones between Daichi and Kuroo the year before had never seemed to be endless.

Should he be the one to let go first? The want for the contact to be over already battling against his will to not be seen as weak, the handshake finally coming to an end when one of the coaches, the Johzenji one, shouts for Terushima to stop antagonising him. Was it still antagonising someone if it felt like Terushima was wanting a reaction from him that wasn’t annoyance? Ennoshita didn’t know and wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to find out either.

“I look forward to see you play, Ennoshita.”

Hand finally free, Ennoshita wipes it on his shorts leg with theatrical disdain, snorting in vague amusement at the just as dramatic gasp from behind him as he walked back to his team. What game was he playing at? Why had he pronounced his name like that, too much emphasis on the shi that he’d drawled out for far too long for it to be anything short of annoying.

He hates that his mind goes immediately to how it would be less annoying coming from Tanaka.

The practise match goes better than expected, the boost of adrenaline in his veins from being on the court only seemingly nullified during breaks when Narita and Kinoshita began their lament of being Ennoshita leaving on the benches, managing to drag Yamaguchi into joining in, even if the second year could not keep a straight face throughout the entire thing. They win, by no means a crushing victory but enough to know what needs to be improved upon with the new team dynamic, thinking over ideas he could go over with the Coach when they got back to school when feels the arms slink over his shoulder, smells the marker and feels the hand over his shoulders take hold of his forearm almost too gently.

Strong body spray and an obnoxious shade of yellow. The feel of a sharpie against his skin as it scrawled ink and numbers across his skin, Ennoshita stood like a deer in the head lights at the hum in his ear, the pop of lips as the writing was finally done. “Call me whenever, it would be a shame to not know you better, Chikara.” His arm is released, Terushima leaving without any further contact, Ennoshita only breaking out of his stunned state when someone yells at the Johzenji captain.

What…what just happened?

His state of being is nothing short of catatonic, walking in his bemused stupor to where the rest of the team are waiting, staring at the number signed with a heart scrawled across his skin. Why had he said his name like that?! A low drawl, the rolled and extended a at the end of his name, the fact it had made his face flush rosy like he was a first year. He had no interest in the other captain in both terms of friendship and relationship. So why, why was he reacting like that?

Forgetting to pull down his sleeve has never had such dire consequences, helping Takeda to gather the team and attendance to make sure nobody was left behind, most having the wherewithal to stay quiet at the number scrawled on his arm. All bar Kendo, the would-be wing spiker’s eyes lightning up before practically yelling. “Yo, Captain! Whose number did you get?”

The drive home is too rowdy, Ennoshita wishing Ukai would wake up and bellow at them all to shut up as question after question is fired at him. Whose number is it? Terushima’s. Are you dating? No. Do you like him? Not really. Would you date him if he asked you? No. Does Tanaka become captain if you fall for another captain and die? No, Haruka, but thank you for the concern.

Perhaps it’s the sap in him but Ennoshita finds he doesn’t mind the questions so much anymore, when he notices Tanaka is no longer in a mood but laughing along with the fellow third years as Ennoshita wilts under the sheer number of questions thrown at him about his supposed affair with Terushima.

---

“He has no idea, does he.” Yamaguchi states, having waited with the third years and Tsukishima for the captain to show up only to bare witness to him be accosted by a group of boys. They can’t tell for sure what’s being said only that Ennoshita seems to be surprised, hands up in mock surrender before a relaxed, more apologetic pose takes over, the tell-tale sign of nervousness as he scratches the back of his neck.

He’d always been handsome, Tanaka thinks, it just became more obvious over the end of year break, bewildered as to how in the span of a month he had seemed to bloom in confidence and lose the stubborn bit of baby fat that clung to his cheeks and body. It’s bothersome, annoying really, how Ennoshita believed through this metamorphosis that he’s still something not worth looking twice at, Ennoshita haven’t never stated it but it was all too clear from the way he confusedly pointed out how he couldn’t understand why their fellow students seemed to linger on him.

“Also oblivious to Tanaka’s pining.” Nishinoya adds on a little too cheerfully, the libero cackling with laughter as he used Tsukishima as a shield as Tanaka attempted to grab him before running behind Ennoshita as the captain finally joined them with a humoured confused look. “Save me, captain! He’s gone feral.”

“Oh please, Noya, he’s a big puppy at worst.” Ennoshita remarks, giving the vice captain a pat on the head as he passed by, ducking past Narita to get to the gym doors before unlocking them, throwing Yamaguchi the keys so he could unlock the changing rooms with a smile. “Go get changed and help me set up the gym before the actually feral children get here.”

Tanaka is the first one back, finding Ennoshita in the middle of setting up the nets, silently thankful that the rest of the team had shown up just as he was leaving the locker room, giving him a good 5 minutes alone with Ennoshita before they were interrupted by each coach, Yachi or someone from the team announcing their arrival with utter dramatics and a slammed open door. “So, what did they want?” He asks, holding the net steady for Ennoshita as he tied it, somewhat distracted by the look of concentration on the others face. Furrowed brows and a slightly screwed mouth, he’d be ridiculous if he thought, even for a moment, that it was adorable.

“I think he was trying to confess his feelings but it came out sounding like he was asking me to marry him.” Ennoshita mused, checking how secure the knots were before moving to the other side and repeating the process there. “Rejected him, was informed he would win my heart before I graduated and his friends were very enthusiastic about this prospect.” Ennoshita seems strangely fond over this, though as to why Tanaka did not know.

“Do we have a name for your future beloved?”

“Oh, heavens no, never told me it in the time it took him to propose to me and declare he’d win me over.” Ennoshita laughed, Tanaka finding himself unable to not join in, finishing with the first net before starting work on the second one. “I named him mini Ryuu though, he reminded me of you with Kiyoko during the majority of first year.”

He flushes at that, muttering shut up under his breath and earning another laugh, wishing he had the confidence he had with Kiyoko to approach Ennoshita with the same enthusiasm. But they’re different, the same yet different. Kiyoko was an obsession, an undignified act of teenage love that he never bothered to subdue, taking some form of pleasure out of every rejection. He had the same thing with Ennoshita but he kept it close, kept it more subtle, for no other reason than the uncertainty of what would happen when he ultimately got rejected because, for the first time, he sees no weird joy in it.

“Are you planning on growing your hair out?” He ask, tying the last knot, the first few members of the team stumbling into the gym, Kageyama snapping something at Hinata and the first years as the setter is more or less shoved into the gym by the rowdy bunch. Tanaka blinks, reaching up to touch his hair, feeling fluff instead of the usual buzzcut, wondering when the last time he’d asked Saeko to cut it for him even was.

“Nah, I keep forgetting to ask Saeko to cut it for me.” Tanaka shrugs in his response, tugging at his hair gently and contemplating if he should cut it off or not, the thought of Ennoshita’s hand on it earlier halting his train of thought far too quickly for his liking. He knows it’s a crush but it was just a touch, an innocent if not somewhat patronising pat to the head, it shouldn’t have this affect on him. Shouldn’t make him wonder how it would feel if they were running through it instead.

No.

He wasn’t dwelling on the thought of calloused hands weaving through it when he’s had a stressful day, it being ruffled with amused affection whenever he was sulking over something trivial. Of fingers gripping it tight and pulling when he…

NO.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“I said you should keep it longer; it looks good on you.”

He was never cutting his hair again.

---

If Tanaka sits closer to him during the study session, neither of them mention it, Ennoshita leaning in to Tanaka’s side to read over what he’d written and smiling. “You got them all right, Ryuu.” He’s not sure when he switched to using just his first name to refer to him, believing it to be around the time the member of the baseball team more or less vowed to win his heart by years end. It seemed to make sense to do as much, he had referred to the kid as mini Ryuu as opposed to mini Tanaka after all.

“It just makes more sense when you explain it.” Tanaka mumbles, scratching the back of his head bashfully, Ennoshita letting out a hum in response before looking up and at the ace when he feels eyes on him. Oh, how had he not realised how close they were? His lips were so painfully close and if he were a stronger man he’d lean forward and kiss him but, for all the confidence he had gained between the end of his second year and the start of his third, he’s not confident enough to close that gap and find out just how unrequited his crush was.

He’s all too happy to let Tanaka take the lead as he takes the initiative, warm fingers sliding between his perpetually cold ones, eyes flicking down to their linked hands before back up to the ace, swallowing thickly. Maybe he should, maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t as unreachable as he first thought, so close to kissing him when a door slams open.

The distance feels like miles, the lingering warmth on his hand from where Tanaka was holding offering only little comfort when the ace refused to look at him. He wants to ask, wants to ask what it meant, why he’d looked at him like that, if what he was feeling and what he assumed Tanaka was feeling actually aligned and it wasn’t just a fool’s folly to long for something more than friendship.

“Hey, Ryuu! Did you-” Saeko makes her presence known with a shout and the door opening, looking between the pair and going silent. Did she know? He knew Tanaka’s shared everything. Meals, food, lesser secrets about crushes and friendship dramas. Was she aware of whatever was going on between the pair of them? The panic begins to build up in his chest as he continues to overthink the situation only to let out a choked noise as he’s grabbed by the elder Tanaka and pulled to his feet.

It’s a similar situation to Terushima, Ennoshita feeling more and more like he’s being stared down by a predator only it’s welcomed this time, Saeko gripping his chin and observing his face before she turns to look at Ryuunosuke who seems to be on edge more than Ennoshita was. “I know you said he got hot over break but damn, Chika, you’re fuckin gorgeous.”

“Umm…thank you?” He doesn’t take compliments well, he never has, laughing nervously as he’s spun, her hands gripping his shoulders, feeling like he’s being presented to Ryuunosuke as a prize that he had just won. I know you said he got hot over break. What did that mean? Was that a Ennoshita thing or a Tanaka thing? Ennoshita focusing on his teammates face, noticing the familiar look he got whenever he felt Saeko was about to embarrass him.

“You gotta snap him up before someone else does, look at those cheek bones.” He feels the nails of Saeko’s right hand brush against his skin and he shudders despite himself, face still enflamed from the shared moment before and the endless compliments. “That jaw line, those sleepy brown eyes of yours. You are still single, right?”

“I…yeah?”

He chooses to not mention the plethora of confessions he had received the past few months, looking at Ryuu in hopes of a rescue only to find him shooting a look brimming with annoyed daring, baiting Saeko into continuing her commentary. Ennoshita knows the look well, one he’s been on the receiving end of from his own little brother whenever he learnt something he shouldn’t and threatened to hold it over him for the foreseeable future.

Saeko just grins, dangerous, like she is aware of something Ennoshita should be, hands clapping his shoulders, giving them a firm squeeze before she lets go and leaves. He watches he go, a thumbs up thrown in as a goodbye before she closes the door much softer than she had when she opened it. There’s a tension in the room, Ennoshita fumbling with his fingers as the silence leaves him to focus on those words.

I know you said he got hot over break. You’re fucking gorgeous.

You said he got hot. You’re fucking gorgeous.

You’re hot. You’re fucking gorgeous.

He’s ashamed as the voice morphs from Saeko’s to Ryuunosuke’s, the constant repetition of ‘you’re fucking gorgeous’ setting his cheeks aflame and his heart beating faster than a drum. He should leave, shouldn’t he? His confidence having melted away, Ennoshita feeling once again like a first year, unable to find his voice and on the brink of panicking as he over thought every possibility now laid out before him.

“Chikara,” his voice is soft, all to calming to hear, Ennoshita looking down at the other only to be met with a face of mild confusion and concern. “I’m stuck with problem ten.” Settling back down, Ennoshita goes back to helping, hoping for any distraction from the thought of Tanaka finding him attractive and the growing disappointment that he wasn’t brave enough to take Tanaka’s hand is his own again.

---

Its never brought up again but it changes their dynamic, Tanaka meeting him at lunch time, the welcome relief from being bothered by strangers with confessions. The hilarious moment of Tanaka fighting with his miniature self until Ennoshita dragged Tanaka away by the hand, the younger boy by someone Ennoshita guessed to also be on his team. It’s never brought up again but Tanaka doesn’t shake off his hand until its time to eat, despite the teasing looks sent his way by the other third years.

They sit together on the coach to practice matches, Ennoshita almost always waking up with his head on Tanaka’s shoulder, Tanaka’s head leaning against his and hands not quite touching but it always feels a little too intimate for just friends. Its how they end up travelling to the Miyagi summer camp, waking up as they pull onto the Shiratorizawa grounds only to find their fingers linked this time, it making up for the lack of head resting against his.

It’s three days before something snaps. Ennoshita in the middle of talking rotation with coach Ukai, mentioning his own anxiety in suddenly being thrust onto the court during an important match, making a joke at both Tanaka’s and Daichi’s expense as he brings up the Wakutani South match the year before. He excuses himself as he hears the arguing behind him, sighing at the sight of Tanaka and Noya shouting at a group of younger players, Karasuno’s own first years seeming to only encourage their behaviour.

Daichi had made this seem too easy, Yamaguchi was going to despise him for leaving this team in his capable hands when the year was through, Ennoshita feeling a migraine beginning to build as he made his way over. Where was Yahaba or Shirabu? He’d pray for even Futakuchi to show up to offer at least some form of assistance in dealing with the would be fight between their teams.

He more than well aware he’s not as intimidating as Daichi, Kenma having pointed this out when the teams met for a practise match a month prior, Ennoshita having simply laughed in response and returned the favour by pointing out that Kenma didn’t quite carry the same presence that Kuroo did. Any remaining tension between them had dissipated as soon as they had spotted Tanaka and Taketora, both huddled in a corner whispering conspiratorially, matching statements of “idiots” slipping out as sighs.

He’s not as intimidating but he can still command presence, hands clamping down on the shoulders of Tanaka and Nishinoya, squeezing tightly as he smiled a little too softly at the gathering who seemed to slowly sink under the weight of it. “I believe you were all returning to your teams, yes?” His tone leaves no room for argument, at least that’s what he hopes, watching with baited breath as they disperse, waiting until they had gone before finally allowing himself to relax.

“They were-”

“You don’t need to tell me.” Ennoshita sighs, cutting off Noya, already knowing that whatever reason they had to get into the fight was, it didn’t need explaining. He trusted his team enough for that. “Just…Just try not to do it again, please.”

---

It’s late on a Tuesday when everything is finally addressed, thirteen days since the incident in Tanaka’s home and thirteen days since they’ve danced around the subject, Ennoshita looking up when he feels someone sit next to him on the bench, surprised to find Tanaka sat there but not at all finding it unwelcomed. “What brings you out here?” Ennoshita asks, dog earring the page he was on and closing his book, cheek resting against his brought up knees and his hand on offer on the chance the Ace wanted to hold it.

“Was looking for the love of my life.” Tanaka states, voice subdued and its unsettling, too used to the confident and boisterous side of him that bellowed across courts and ripped his shirt off in victory. Tanaka is loud, headstrong, a focal point made flesh, he didn’t do quiet moments often, didn’t let his voice drop so low in volume it could barely be considered a whisper. It’s strange but he loves it all the same, a small selfish part of him wishing he’d be the only one to ever here the other like this.

“Did you find them?” He doesn’t try to hide the hope on his voice, too wrapped up in the idea that he might just be what Tanaka was into, be good enough to be the object of his affections even if just for a brief time. He had gained confidence since becoming the Captain, had grown into himself and learnt to become more assertive but the other was able to reduce him back to the shy mess he had been when he was younger like Tanaka was flames and he was made of matches.

Hands find each other, cold and pale meeting warm and tan, the grip loose enough to be comfortable yet firm enough to know it couldn’t be broken that easily. He would have been happy with that, cheeks flushing pink as a hand gently pried his cheek from his knees, calloused thumb brushing over his cheek before lips meet.

It’s brief but that’s all it needs to be, first kiss pressed to the corner of his lips before the second one captures them, the grip on his hand tightening briefly as they pull apart, Ennoshita admiring the flustered look of Tanaka’s cheeks, knowing full well he was in a similar state if not worse.

In his fantasies, he’d pictured Tanaka making any confession into a big affair, loud and unabashed, proclaiming his love for all of Japan to hear like he had with Kiyoko at any given moment. He’d thoroughly embarrass Ennoshita, grinning proudly without a care in the world. He hadn’t pictured it would be quietly, sat on a bench by the school gardens at Shiratorizawa, a fond smile tugging at his lips as he realises that he wouldn’t have had it any other way.

“Yeah, I think I did.”

#ennotana #ennoshita chikara #tanaka ryuunosuke #haikyuu #tanaenno #karasuno #narita kazuhito #kinoshita hisashi #nishinoya yu #tanaka saeko #terushima yuuji #rating: T #yachi hitoka

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darter-blue · 4 years

Text

okay so I reached 300 followers today - and in appreciation for putting up with me and my silly blog you all get a little gift!

Here is 2k words of Stucky fluff just for you, dear followers. Thanks for all your love.

Worth it

Bucky is pretty sure that this was a terrible idea. Every single date he’s ever been on in his life has been a disaster. How he could have possibly been persuaded to believe that not one date but twenty dates, in succession, in increments of ten minutes a pop - speed dating, his best friend had called it with a smile intended to deceive, but torture, might be a better descriptive - would be in any way a good idea is beyond him. It felt like extreme dating in the same way that ironing over a cliff face was extreme ironing, dangerous and nauseating. And Bucky had always preferred to just live with the wrinkles thanks. Anything that required more care than, ‘stick it in the dryer on high and wear it immediately’, was not a piece of clothing that ever made it past the first wash.

He felt kind of the same about dating.

Anyway. However he looked at it, this was not the ‘opportunity to meet someone great’ he had been promised. This was just a faster, more efficient way for Bucky to get stepped on. To meet people who saw his looks and smiled and then spent the remainder of the date growing increasingly disappointed with the reality of his personality.

Well. At the very least, Nat was going to owe him that fifty bucks. Because not one of the guys he had met so far would ever put Bucky down as a potential match.

But finally it feels like, after too many beers and way too many sweaty, lingering hand shakes, Bucky has finally been through all twenty dates. And thank god. So far, over the course of the night, he’s been told he should speak up more, to smile more, to put his hair up, to sit straighter, to talk less about math, and to seriously reconsider his fashion choices. He is so fucking ready to go home he has his keys already in his hand. But while he drains the last of his bottle and prepares to get up from his chair and run (before the speed dating organiser can grab him for his card and his ‘insights’), someone new sits down gracefully into the seat opposite him.

Somebody he doesn’t remember from the introductions.

And he’s looking up from where tight blue jeans around thick thighs have slid into the seat, up to a broad chest in a t-shirt that has to be two sizes too small, up to shoulders so wide they could carry a bus, and up, up, up to the most beautiful face Bucky has ever seen in real life. Or at all, in anything maybe.

It’s ridiculously unfair how attractive this man is.

His dark blond hair is long and swept back. His skin is golden against a dark, full beard that frames his high cheekbones and pink lips. His eyes are the kind of blue that only exists in magazines. And he’s smiling. A real, enthusiastic smile.

At Bucky.

Bucky looks down to make sure he’s been drinking light beer - and not something heavy enough to have him hallucinating. The label is just the cheap crappy stuff that the dating company provided. Doesn’t mean it hasn’t been spiked, though, he doesn’t feel dizzy.

He looks back up at the guy and he seems to have deflated a little at Bucky’s less than stellar response. Which… well, that’s basically the story of his life.

Bucky raises an eyebrow but chooses not to say anything (what would he even say, besides hello. Okay hello would be a good start. But he’d just mumble it anyway. And fuck it up like he always does)

But the guy is not deterred.

‘Hey,’ he says, dialling the smile back up, ‘How’s it going?’

Bucky looks at the guy, this perfect, gorgeous guy, looks around for the moderator, at the other daters, at the general public inhabiting the rest of the bar, and tries to figure out whether he’s being punked or something.

‘Umm…’ Bucky looks back to the guy and tries to find a word, any word, to help him figure out what is happening. ‘Hi?’ His brain is apparently not cooperating.

‘Hi,’ the guy replies, his smile, somehow, getting brighter as he does. He holds a hand out across the table to Bucky, long, strong fingers, and a wide palm. Perfectly manicured fingernails. And how are even his hands beautiful. ‘I’m Steve.’

Bucky reaches out his own hand, nails bitten down and blue ink stained into the cracks, shaking the outstretched palm and feeling himself want to linger in the warmth and softness of the guy’s shake. ‘Bucky.’

‘Bucky?’

‘Nickname,’ Bucky says automatically. But the guy doesn’t seem put off by the tone. If anything, his smile seems to widen at the answer.

‘It’s cute,’ the guy, Steve, says with a low, husky laugh, ‘Bucky.’

‘Umm… thanks?’ Bucky says, raising his eyebrow even further. ‘You don’t... ‘ he starts, and then clears his throat, the nerves getting to him, making his throat itchy, ‘I don’t remember you from the introductions.’

‘Oh yeah, no. I’m not part of the group,’ Steve says with a wave of his hand, dismissing the notion, ‘I’m here with some friends.’ He gestures to a bunch of guys at the bar, looking like some kind of movie star football team, pretending not to be watching their buddy do… whatever it is Steve is doing here.

‘Are you… Did you need something, or…’ Bucky is rambling now, nervous as to what Steve might be doing if he’s not here for a torturous ten minute date.

‘Your number?’ Steve says, raising one perfectly arched eyebrow of his own.

‘My what?’ Bucky says without thinking.

‘Your phone number?’ Steve repeats, looking a little less cocky now, ‘You know, so I could call you sometime.’

And Bucky is frozen for a moment, his mouth open, his eyebrows raised. Probably not a good look at all. He snaps his mouth shut and tucks a strand of his dark wavy shoulder length hair behind an ear. Buying himself some time. ‘You aren’t part of the speed dating group?’

‘Uh-uh,’ Steve says, shaking his head.

‘You’re here with your friends?’ Bucky asks, trying to pin this all down.

Steve nods.

‘And you just came over here to get my number?’

‘I did.’

‘My number?’ Bucky asks incredulously.

‘Absolutely.’ Steve says. And that tone leaves no room for argument.

It sends a little shiver down Bucky’s spine to be honest. The first time all night he’s felt any flash of heat.

‘Why?’ Bucky asks. He knows you're not supposed to ask that. But, well, Bucky certainly wouldn’t be here if he was any good at meeting people, flirting, or being on a date in the first place.

‘Hmm…’ Steve says, placing one lovely finger against his bottom lip in mock contemplation. ‘Let me see. I’ve been sitting over there,’ he points back to his recently abandoned spot at the bar, ‘Watching losers come and go from this table all night,’ Steve drops his hand and leans forward, ‘Asking you the stupidest fucking questions I’ve ever heard asked, talking over you,’ he’s picking up speed now and Bucky is helplessly fascinated by the way Steve’s blue eyes are almost glowing with fervour, ‘Not appreciating one goddamn thing you’ve had to say. Not laughing at that hilarious crack about obtuse angles, and not treating you with the kind of reverence that you deserve.’

Bucky is watching Steve rant about how awful his dates have been, hears him unabashedly complimenting his math humour, feels his genuine affability crash over him, and it starts to hit Bucky that maybe this guy is actually serious.

Maybe this glorious man is actually interested in asking Bucky on a real fucking date.

‘Also,’ Steve says, Bucky suddenly and sharply focused back to his words as Steve’s voice drops to a sinfully deep register, ‘You are definitely the most beautiful guy I’ve ever seen in my life.’

And whoa.

Bucky blinks. And tilts his head in confusion. He can’t be serious… can he?

‘You came to a speed dating night in a sweater vest. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more adorable.’

‘You’re joking,’ Bucky says. Because every single person who sat down at his table tonight, once they got past the long hair and the pretty face, had bemoaned his choice of outfit for the evening. (Even Nat had told him to lose the vest).

‘I am deadly serious,’ Steve says. And the heat in his eyes as he looks at Bucky is evidence of his sincerity.

‘You know I’m a total nerd.’

‘I can tell that you’re brilliant,’ Steve counters, ‘You’re like a mathematical genius.’

‘I talk to my pot plants,’ Bucky says, leaning forward in his seat.

‘I love that,’ Steve says without hesitation, smile growing wider by the second, ‘You can’t scare me away Bucky.’

‘I’m not trying to scare you,’ Bucky says, and it’s true, ‘I’m just trying to preempt your eventual disappointment.’

But Steve is shaking his head. He laughs that low husky laugh and looks up at Bucky through beautifully dark, long eyelashes. ‘A, I could not be disappointed by you if you tried, and B, can I get your number? Cause I’d really like to call you.’

Bucky can feel himself smiling, by some minor miracle. He can feel a flush spread through his cheeks. He can see the other daters getting up to hand over their cards. None of them have spared a glance back at Bucky, though plenty of them have given Steve a second look.

He looks back to Steve, who’s now pouting his pink lips at Bucky, just enough to make Bucky actually laugh out loud. ‘Yeah, okay, sure. You can have my number,’ Bucky says, accepting Steve’s phone as he hands it over and adding himself in the contacts as ‘Math nerd - Bucky’ really wanting to make sure Steve remembers what he’s getting himself into if he ever actually tries to call him.

Steve takes his phone back and immediately calls the number, Bucky can feel his phone vibrating in his pocket. He pulls it out to show Steve that it's ringing, and Steve shrugs his giant shoulders and laughs again. ‘Just checking.’

‘Well-’ Bucky says.

‘So-’ Steve says at the same time.

They both laugh, but Bucky gestures for Steve to go first.

‘I was just ah, wondering if you might be free right now?’

And oh, Bucky’s heart skips a little at the question. And the hopeful, nervous look that Steve is giving him right now. He looks down at his watch. It’s ten, but it’s Saturday tomorrow. He has no classes. Nowhere to be.

‘Yes,’ Bucky says, and Steve breathes out with a smile, ‘I’m free now.’

‘Great let me just…’ Steve gestures back to his friends and Bucky nods.

He’s expecting Steve to just drag him over to the group and maybe buy him another beer. But Steve is waving to his friends, slapping a few shoulders, laughing and ducking his head. He’s grabbing his jacket and jogging back to Bucky.

‘You like ice cream?’ He asks Bucky as he reaches him.

‘Yeah, I like ice cream,’ Bucky replies, tilting his head, still a little confused but mostly charmed by this gorgeous, strangely sweet man he’s just met.

‘Cool. I know this great ice cream place.’ And he takes Bucky’s hand to lead him through and out of the bar. Past the daters and the organisers who are looking at him with surprise. Smiling back at Bucky as he checks to make sure he’s got everything.

And something in Bucky is melting.

But also he’s a little pissed.

Cause it looks like he’s going to have to fork out that fifty bucks to Nat after all.

Only one more look at the guy who’s got his hand in his soft warm grip and Bucky can’t even be mad. It’s totally worth it.

Steve is totally worth all of it.

#stucky #steve x bucky #quick fic #fluff #speed dating #steve rogers #bucky barnes #steve/bucky #1 - 2k words #my fics #300 followers #you all get a present

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rpd-rookie · 4 years

Text

What Does The ‘S’ Stand For ? - Leon S. Kennedy x Reader

Summary: When you learn that Leon got the job you desperately wanted you decide to pay him a visit to congratulate him and finally put an end to the competition between the two of you in favour of some cooperation. Turns out, cooperation sometimes involve taking your clothes off.

Author’s Note: Some one-shot involving (pre) RE2 Remake Leon, a very sassy reader and some smut. I haven't written that genre in a while though. Hope I'm not too rusty. And by the way, if you notice some terrible grammatical mistakes please let me know (English is not my mother tongue). Anyway, I wish you'll like this story and as usual don't forget to like/reblog and tell me what you think about it.

Warning: SMUT and Language. You can also expect some humour and some fluff.

Also available on AO3

Franklin D. Roosevelt once said, “Competition has been shown to be useful up to a certain point and no further, but cooperation, which is the thing we must strive for today, begins where competition leaves off.” Wise words. But clearly Roosevelt never had to compete with Kennedy, and by Kennedy you didn’t mean John F. Kennedy but another Kennedy, one with less charisma yet better hair (hell, got to render unto Caesar what’s Caesar’s), Leon S. Kennedy - ‘S’ probably standing for “sucker” or “saint” in your opinion. After all, the guy was such a goody two-shoes. Teacher’s favourite. Neat and tidy top student. Perfect arbiter of right and wrong. And certainly, the only guy in the academy who didn’t stick his cock in Barbara Johnson’s pussy. Weird since she also had a president’s name just like him. Could have been the perfect opportunity for a horizontal presidential debate.

If it wasn’t clear already, you didn’t like Kennedy very much. But it was not for the reasons mentioned above. No, you could tolerate the fact that he was the embodiment of virtue and morals. What you could not tolerate though, was that he was better than you at everything. At fundamentals, at crime prevention and analysis, at counterintelligence, at physical agility, at shooting, at… well, you get the point. It infuriated you. He infuriated you. You never had the chance to beat him. Never. He was always top of your class and you were always close second. So of course, when you received the letter from the Raccoon City Police Department informing you that your application had been rejected and that the position had been given to someone else, you did the math. Only Kennedy could have taken that job away from you. After all, you had heard him talking about Raccoon City at lunch break quite a few times in the past weeks and each time he had sounded so excited – well, as excited as cannibalistic murders can make you of course. Truth is, you had also shown interest in this city the moment its terrible crimes hit the first page of the newspapers alongside the Clinton-Lewinsky scandal, collecting every tiny article about it and telling your classmates what a thrilling experience it would be to work on that case. You had even imagined yourself wearing the blue uniform, RPD largely written on your chest, making a report about the rotting body of a camper found in the Arklay mountains.

You sighed, disappointment hitting you hard again. And with a hesitant hand, you knocked at the door in front of you somewhat ready to let go of the competition in favour of some cooperation. You barely waited a couple of seconds before Kennedy opened the door, a cordless telephone against his ear. He appeared genuinely surprised to see you there. “Call you back later, mom.” He said before hanging up the phone, still staring at you with astonished eyes. “Y/N.”

“Telling your mommy about the amazing job you just got?” Your question had sounded more barbed and curter than indented. Bitterness probably. Leon sighed. He knew exactly what you meant. “Look, if it is about Raccoon City…” “Of course it is about Raccoon City. Why do you think I’m here? To discuss fashion?” You entered his bedsit without asking and looked around you. So well organized and tidy, so military. Pff. Where were the greasy pizza boxes, the nasty underwear on the floor and the bin filled with used tissues all the other guys usually had?

You turned around to face him with a stone cold expression. “I’m guessing you knew I wanted that post.” “Yeah but…” You cut him off. You couldn’t care less about the thing he wanted to say. “I don’t blame you. Had I been in your place I would have apply for it too. Damn, I even applied without being in your place, so … The point is, I wanted to congratulate you – even if it hurts me to do so – and tell you that I’m glad this competition between the two of us is finally coming to end.” Leon briefly chuckled and kept an amused smile on his face. This wasn’t the kind of words he had expected from you. “Well, thanks I guess.” “You’re welcome” You dramatically put a hand over your heart “Gosh, it kills me to be so polite to you, Kennedy.” He retained a laugh and you approached him to slam a heavy blue binder against his - surprisingly strong - chest. Wow, muscles! “Take this.” You reluctantly said with a strangled voice as if you were a mother giving up her baby . “Take care of it. It’s the work of a lifetime … sort of.”

Leon furrowed his brows and opened the folder. Inside, there were all the articles you had collected about Raccoon City since the reveal of the incidents to the public eye plus some notes you had written during you personal late-night investigations. Leon skimmed through them. They were incredibly detailed and you could see how impressed he was. Damn, you wished you had your camera to immortalise this moment. “It won’t be of any use to me now. And it took me too much time to just throw it away so have it. Take it as parting gift.” “Wow, Y/N. I don’t know what to say.” He looked beyond happy. It made you smile. What the hell, Y/N? “Thank you, maybe?” You swallowed you smile back before he could notice, choosing to replace what could have been something sweet and nice by sarcasm. “Yes, sure.” He grinned. “Thank you.” You nodded. “I don’t want you to have a heart attack so you’re not obliged to say ‘you’re welcome’.” He teased you and as much as you wanted to find the joke lame, you surprisingly found it rather funny. “Good. Cause that would have been too much for my heart to take in a single day.” He smiled again and this time you couldn’t help but gaze. You were forced to acknowledge he was very cute, handsome even, certainly the kind of guy you would have willingly flirt with if it hadn’t been for the relentless competition between the two of you. “You know it’s nice to see you smile.” Your eyes slightly widened. You had been smiling the whole time? No! “That wasn’t a smile. That was a sneer.” You quickly replied, trying to prevent him from spotting the sudden panic in your eyes. “Sure.” But yeah, that was definitely a smile and right now your cheeks were burning.

You cleared your throat and looked back upon his face, hoping yours had found back its usual seriousness and scorn. “Well, gotta go. Good riddance, Kennedy. Good luck and try not to screw up.” You proceeded to the door, glad this conversation was over, but Leon was not ready to let you leave just yet. “You know, for me, there was never a competition between us.” You stopped and turned around. “What?” You frowned. “Of course, there was a competition.” He shook his head. “Not for me.” “Are you telling me that I have deprived myself of sleeping, fallen into coffee addiction and lost my entire social life for two years in the hope of finally beating you at a freaking test while you …” You could tell he was clearly trying not to laugh but his mocking grin was enough to make you blow a fuse. Well, a funny fuse … a funny desperate fuse “No! No!” You repeated, all irritated. “You’re kidding me!” He shrugged, playing all innocent. “Don’t fucking tell me you let me tilt at windmills!” He did. Bastard. Leon - Son of a bitch - Kennedy! That’s what the S stands for. You cursed in your head. “I tried to tell you …” He started to explain to defend himself. “When?” You harrumphed, almost shouting at him. “Well, many times but …” “Clearly not enough times.” Your sarcasm was back. “… each time you sent me packing” “I don’t do that.” You felt offended. “I can’t barely make a full sentence with you!” You opened your mouth to retort but he stopped you by pointing a finger that undeniably meant ‘Careful what you’re going to say’. So you stood there, perfectly still, mouth opened, realising that he was probably right. “You’re allowed to breath, you know.” He said as a response to your reaction but you didn’t know what to say anymore. Did you really spend all your time at the academy trying to win a non-existent competition? “Fuck.” You cursed, definitely dumbfounded.

Leon observed you, perplexed and wondering if you were going to stay rooted to the spot for the rest of the day. “Y/N” He waved in front of your face to pull you out from your thoughts but you barely noticed. “All that repressed sexual tension for nothing?” You asked yourself. Wait! Did you just say that out loud? Panic-stricken, you looked up at Leon and judging by the way he was staring at you – all ‘what the hell did she just say?’ – yep you did. “You didn’t hear what I’ve just said.” You waved your hand past his face, like a Jedi would do in a Star Wars movie, knowing perfectly it wouldn’t work but hoping that ridicule would make the situation less awkward and give you a chance to run away from his room. It was a failure. “Yes, I did.”

And just like that, Leon Saint Sucker Son of a Bitch – whatever the S stood for - Kennedy caught your face in his hands and kissed you with a passion that made you gasp against him. You tried to resist for a second but then you decided to let go. After all, you had nothing to lose. The study years could be considered over and soon Leon would be in Raccoon City analysing amazing crimes while you would be God-knows-where writing parking tickets. You would never see each other again. “Tell that to anyone, Kennedy and I’ll kick your gorgeous butt from here to Raccoon City.” You threatened, close to his mouth. “I won’t. Scout’s honour.” Leon Scout Kennedy? You shook your head (Stop being silly, Y/N!) before pushing Leon on the convertible sofa behind him.

You straddled him without waiting, definitely willing to let your sudden eagerness and your repressed desire for him get the better of you. You met his lips in a new heated kiss, your body pressed against his, craving for lustful friction. And by the way Leon was holding you tight you could tell you weren’t the only one. His tongue asked permission to enter your mouth and you happily granted it. Who would have thought that Leon Saint Kennedy was such a skilled kisser? Couldn’t he suck for once? Oh yeah, he could suck at your neck apparently. Damn. A moan escaped your throat and you felt Leon smirk against your skin. “You like that?” He asked, proud of himself. You instinctively arched your neck asking for more, your hands weaving into his soft hair. “It’s not that bad.” You acknowledged and he suddenly bit you in the nape of your neck. “What the fuck?” You shouted, surprised. Leon laughed and you caught his face to kiss him and bite his lips in retaliation. But judging by the kinky smile on his angelic face, he didn’t seem to mind. “You’re incorrigible.” You humoured. “Did I hurt you? I’m sorry.” He pecked your lips again and again and slowly began leaving a trail of light kissed down to your neck. “You’d better be. Aren’t you tired of making my life a misery?” You pretended to sulk as he kept on pressing his soft lips on your burning skin. You grabbed his chin, putting you thumb in his dimple and stared at him. How ridiculously hot he was right now with that arousal tinting his beautiful blue eyes and this dishevelled hair.

“What do you have in mind, Y/N?” Rhetorical question. He knew exactly what you had in mind. Hell, it was basically the same thing he had in his. “Stop playing coy and take your clothes off.” You whispered close to his face, your hot breath against his mouth, before pulling his bottom lip between your teeth “What about your silly competition?” He murmured back, his hands slowly falling along your sides. “I’m all in for cooperation right now. So are you gonna give me a hand …” You started unbuckling his belt. “…or do I need to do everything by myself?” His eyes fixed upon yours mischievous ones, gazing at you with awe. You could tell he was completely at your mercy. “I’ll give you more than a hand.” You smirked and allowed your hands to unbutton his jeans. “I thought so.” He lifted his rear and you pulled down his jeans along with his boxers, biting your lips at the view of his beautiful cock. Jesus Christ Kennedy, Mother Nature certainly had been kind to you.

You stood up to undress yourself as well, dropping all your clothes to the floor, your eyes watching at Leon’s hastening hands fighting desperately with the buttons of his shirt. Clearly, you weren’t the only one that was impatient in this room, or horny. You let him finish before taking your place back on his laps. His hard sex against your body, you slightly shivered, impatience eating you from within. “You’re gorgeous.” He said as he tucked few strands of your hair behind your ear. You couldn’t help but blush, not used to such compliments, and, as a consequence, in order to erase all sense of discomfort in you (if you could call it like that), you decided to focus your attention on his cock. You brushed his length with your fingertips, admiring it with envy and lust, excited to do more with it. It made Leon hiss and you looked up at him. His eyes were pleading you. Without looking away from the blueness of his look, you caught his penis in your hand and started pumping it gently. Leon’s eyelids flickered; his head hit the back of the sofa and his mouth opened slightly. He seemed thankful, relieved even. You continued your gesture, watching him melting underneath you, listening to his now ragged breath with delight. God, that was sexy. He was sexy. Leon Sexy Kennedy. Suited him.

You bit your lips and decided to venture in between his legs, kneeling onto the floor. “What are you …” Leon complained when he suddenly stopped feeling you on top of him. You cut him short by guiding his cock to your mouth to softly kiss the pre cum-covered tip “Holy...” The rest of the sentence got stuck in his throat and turned into a growl as you eagerly sucked the head of his cock like a Popsicle. You smiled and licked his length, staring at how ecstatic he looked from this angle. “You like that?” You winked as you quoted him and he laughed. “Women.” You engulfed his cock deep in your mouth and started bobbing your head. A new sigh of pleasure escaped his mouth and you felt him instantly relax on the couch. “God, you’re amazing.” You liked the compliment and to show your appreciation you decided to massage his balls as you kept on sucking him. You received a lustful grunt in response and soon Leon’s hand grabbed your hair to give you a quicker pace, almost making you gag on him. “Oh, sorry.“ What a gentleman! “That’s okay.” You smiled in a very naughty way. “I like it.” He chortled and you took back his dick in your mouth, welcoming it deeper to show him you didn’t mind some roughness. “You know, if you keep doing this I’m soon going to cum in your mouth.” You stopped, licked your lips and crawled back onto his lap. “That would be a shame.” You joked sarcastically, hands back in his hair “Got a condom?”

The way you pronounced the words, all smiley and adorable, made him laugh again. He pushed you softly to open the drawer of his nightstand and find your one-way ticket for cloud nine. “There!” He announced excited as he showed you the contraceptive. “But first …” He suddenly grabbed your ankles to pull you towards him, making you slightly yelp in the process. “There’s something I got to do” He lay down on the couch, spread your legs and immediately nestled his head right in between your thighs, making you instantly shiver. So, that’s what he got to do. You sighed when you felt his breath against you swollen clit but it was only when his tongue met your pink flesh that you realised how aroused you truly were. You were so wet. “Fuck, am I the one to blame for such a mess?” He joked but his mouth and tongue felt so good in between your thighs that you could only just moan and arch your back, begging for proper sucking and licking. He didn’t make you wait and gave you what you wanted as he started fondling your clit with his tongue. “Leon” That was the first time you where saying his first name and you got to admit, you liked the sound of it. “Yes, sweetheart?” “Keep going, please.” You begged and he sucked on your bud, gazing at you melting under his touch as he did. You grasped his hair when he finally let a finger enter your core. Fuck, he was good. You moved your hips instinctively against him and he added a new finger. It sank into you as easily as the first one and you cried out, finding it impossible to be discreet anymore. “Fuck, Leon. I want you. I want you now.” You begged. “Wait a second.” He asked, definitely loving your taste too much for him to stop just now. He pumped his fingers in your pussy, licking your juices greedily and you clenched your thighs around his head, feeling the imminence of your orgasm slowly yet surely approaching. “Now, Leon. Now! Please”

Leon obeyed this time and he quickly sat up and grabbed the condom he had left on the pillow next to him. He put the red wrapper between his teeth and tore it open. Then he rolled the condom down his length with both his hands. You watched him all the time, your fingers massaging your clit, finding him terribly arousing at this very moment.

Once ready, Leon bent over you to kiss you again and he tapped his hard cock on your hand to ask access to your humid entrance. You didn’t object of course and even spread your legs wider. Soon enough, you felt him slide in between your wet lips and then finally push slowly yet exquisitely inside of you. You closed your eyes as he did and drew a sharp breath once you felt him fully inside. You didn’t need time to adjust to him as if your body was meant for him. Guess Leon felt it too as he immediately took a quick pace and began pounding you. You let your hands wander on his smooth chest from his strong pectorals down to his divine abs and the chiselled V below his navel, finding him simply gorgeous. Then you grasped his hips, and nudge his rear with your ankles, pressing his pelvis closer to you to take him deeper, and started moaning his name again. His hands caught your bouncing breasts to play with your nipples, and you rapidly felt the strong wave of pleasure back in your core, ready to drown you. “Fuck, Leon!” His mouth met one of your teats and sucked on it with ardour. That was too much to handle. “I think I’m gonna cum.” You cried out. “Yeah?” You nodded, letting a tear of pleasure escape your eyes. “Cum for me then.” He didn’t have to say it twice and few seconds later, you dug your nails in his hipbones and screamed loudly as you clenched around his cock, finally coming undone under his thrusts.

Stunned, breathless and at the same time a bit embarrassed that you had already reached your orgasm, you let Leon kiss you soft lips with a smile on his face. “See, you reached the finishing line before me.” He humoured. “Fuck off.” You whispered, amused yet completely exhausted. He chuckled and pressed his lips against yours one more time before gently pushing you flat on your stomach. “I’m not done with you yet.” He whispered in your ear.

You moaned loudly when he thrust back into your wet core, pinning you down on the mattress that you ultimately grabbed tightly in order to stay in place. He started pounding you again, holding you by the hips, taking delight in watching your sweet butt bouncing against him as he was burying himself deeper than he had ever done before. “Jesus, Y/N!” He growled before spanking you. You gasped, astonished but in a good way. You had never thought he was that kind of guy. “Really, Kennedy? Spanking? That’s what the ‘S’ in your name stands for?” He laughed, still fucking you from behind. “I thought you would like it.” “Oh but I do. I just never thought it was your thing.” “You should stop taking me for a saint, Y/N.” He wiped the sweat from his forehead, brushing the strand of hair covering his right eye away and focused again on his movements. “It’s not my fault. It’s your baby face.” You confessed in between two moans. He brutally stopped and you wondered for a second if what you had just said had actually vexed him. “My baby face? Really?” He repeated in your ear with a smirk as he grabbed you by the hair. “Who’s been crying out my name the whole time?” Holy shit. You instinctively braced yourself and when he resumed his hammering you knew it was a smart decision. Leon started growling even more loudly as he slowed yet deepened his movements inside of you, his hand in your hair, using your body as leverage. He was almost aggressive but you moaned nevertheless, out of breath, feeling a new orgasm building inside of you. Really? You clenched around him, trying to hold your orgasm a bit longer, unwilling to give him the satisfaction to cum around him again.

When Leon’s hard pounding started to get sloppy you realised he was really close to his release. “Jesus, I’m almost there.” He admitted. You don’t know how you found the strength to push him on his back but you did. Sitting on top of him, you removed the condom, threw it carelessly onto the floor and started to jerk him off. “I want you to cum on me.” You confessed. A guttural moan vibrated in his throat and he let himself sprawl on the mattress, leaving you in complete charge of his pleasure. You grinded against his cock as your hand kept on firmly going up and down his length. It drove Leon crazy and you soon felt him throbbing in your grip. His breath became even more ragged and jerky and small spasms took control of his body. You angled his cock towards you and soon, a hot load of thick cum spurted on your stomach and breasts as Leon cursed and grunted between his gritted teeth. “Fuck, Y/N!”

You smiled and let go of his member, proud and satisfied of your work, looking at poor panting Leon who had a beautiful yet exhausted smile on his face. “You killed me, woman.” He joked and you briefly laughed. Then, you wiped his cum off your body with your fingers and brought them to your mouth, sucking them eagerly and swallowing the white seed looking right in Leon’s eyes. You had the feeling he would find it very hot. “Jesus Christ” Bull’s eye!

He circled you with his strong arms and pulled you against his chest. His heart was beating wildly and you allowed yourself to huddle a bit more against him to enjoy the melody. Post-coital cuddling session? Not sure that was a good idea but you decided to go for it and so did Leon as he chose to burry his nose in your hair and kiss the top of your head.

“Scott” He whispered sleepily. You looked up, wondering what he meant. “That’s what the ‘S’ stands for. Leon Scott Kennedy.”

Scott? You repeated in your head with a soft smile. Oh well, that didn’t sound so bad even though, right now, you preferred Leon ‘Stay’ Kennedy.

#leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy #re2 remake leon #re2 remake #resident evil #fanfic #one shot

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themetaphorgirl · 4 years

Text

note from Caitlin: This LOVELY drabble was written by the incredible @likefiction and when I say that it made me tear up. It’s so sweet.

This is much later down the road from the main fic! And I love it so much!!

here is the edited version, hopefully with less typos! your AU genuinely brings me a lot of comfort and joy, and I hope that comes across in this❤️️

“Your mobile’s ringing,” one of Alex’s roommates says, poking her head around the door. “You left it in the kitchen, and the name looks like it might be one of your supervisors or someone, so I thought I’d better let you know.”

Alex frowns- she’s pretty sure that none of her professors have her number- but she hits save on her laptop and wanders through to where her phone is sitting on the worktop, vibrating gently in time to a familiar theme tune. She can feel the smile on her face even before she picks it up and hits answer. “Doctor Reid,” she says, ignoring the roommate’s raised eyebrow. “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you today.”

“Hi, Alex,” Spencer’s voice says, small and awkward the way it always is at the start of a call. “I know we usually call on Saturdays, I just- are you busy? I can call back."

"I’m not busy,” Alex says. “Just thesis stuff. What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Spencer says, too quickly.

Alex holds off on rolling her eyes in front and heads back into her room, closing the door behind her. “Spencer,” she says, because the last time Spencer called her and said it was nothing, it was during her second year of undergrad and she’d spent half the call messaging other people, cross-referencing the reported symptoms from JJ and Penelope with James’s analysis until she was able to tell him with some confidence that if he had the flu, he should take some medicine, go to bed, and she’d stay on the phone until he was asleep.

“How’s your thesis going?" Spencer asks. "Are you at the cool bit yet?”

“Hey,” Alex says, enough mock-offence in her tone for him to catch the joke. “It’s all cool bits.”

“You know what I mean, though. The bit about the dialects."

"Not yet,” Alex says. “I’m still on the second chapter- I was just working on it now, actually. Do you want me to read you some of what I’ve got so far?” Spencer insists that he’s not planning on following her into linguistics, but that doesn’t stop him having a reasonably good grasp on her research. If it was anyone else, Alex would worry that she wasn’t being ambitious enough, no matter what her supervisor says; as it is, she just explains the bits he’s less familiar with as if she was talking to someone else in her cohort. However, she’s only written so much of her chapter, and before Spencer can stall further by talking her into the footnotes, she cuts him off. “Is something wrong?” she asks, straight out. “Because I can probably help, and if I can’t then one of the others might be able to. I know James is visiting home this weekend, he could drop in at the school-”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Spencer says. He hasn’t really improved at lying since he was ten years old. “I just… I wanted to tell you something."

"Okay,” Alex says. “Go ahead.” She isn’t sure what she’s expecting, but a long, hesitant pause isn’t quite it. “Spencer?”

“I-” Spencer starts, voice cracking, and she hears his breath hitch, rustling down the line a little too fast.

“Spencer?” Alex says again, pressing her phone a little closer to her ear. “Hey, hey, calm down. Whatever it is, we can deal with it, it doesn’t matter, it can’t be that bad-”

“It’s not bad," Spencer gasps. ”I don’t think it’s bad, Alex- I just- I think-“

"Hey,” Alex says, firm and gentle in a way she’s only ever been with Spencer. “Deep breaths, remember? One, two, three-” Spencer inhales, and again, the sound sharp and wet. The exhale is softer, until finally he whispers into the phone,

“There’s a boy.”

“Okay,” Alex says. “What sort of boy?”

“I’m tutoring him, for math. He’s new, and he’s uh, tall, and good at math, he just missed bits from the beginning of the course because he transferred in January-”

Alex relaxes, beginning to think she knows where this is going. “What’s his name?” she asks.

“Peter."

"Okay,” Alex says. “So, you-”

“I think I like him," Spencer says. ”Like, uh. You and James. Or not you and James, because obviously you and James have known each other for years and that’s an entirely different relationship, but I did some research-“

"Research?”

“I emailed Hotch and Derek and told them I needed their definitions of a crush for a project.”

Oh my god, Alex thinks, and tries very hard not to laugh, because Spencer still sounds like he’s on the verge of tears. “And what are your findings, Doctor Reid?”

“Uh, well, Derek said a bunch of stuff that wasn’t strictly relevant because it was entirely about girls, and Hotch asked if I had Lyme Disease, and when I said I didn’t he said it was probably a crush and I’d be fine, and Alex, I just-"

He breaks off, takes a deep breath. Alex waits.

”I think I may be attracted to guys,“ he says. "And maybe also girls. I haven’t reached a definite conclusion yet because I don’t think this is really something that can be reliably extrapolated from my current ratio of anecdotal evidence to personal experience, but- but as a preliminary- a- a preliminary-”

The sentence rushes and stumbles until it breaks apart into Spencer’s ragged little breaths; Alex can picture him hunching into himself, all scruffy hair and a blazer that’s not quite keeping up with this year’s sudden growth spurts. More than ever, she wishes she could squeeze through the phone and hold him like she had when he was ten and tiny and frightened. “I love you,” she says instead, and hears a choked little sound in response. “Preliminary findings and all, okay? You know that.”

“But- I don’t-” Spencer says, and then he’s crying in earnest, words muffled by the distance of the phone connection. Alex just lets him get it out of his system, making the occasional soothing noise to let him know she’s still on the line.

“I don’t know why I’m crying," he manages eventually. ”I just- I don’t know, and I don’t like not knowing, and it’s- it’s scary.“

Alex takes a moment to come up with an answer to that, swallows down the lump in her throat in the meantime. "Not knowing is always the scary part,” she says. “But you don’t have to know the answer, Spencer, not right away, and it’s okay if the answer changes. And you never have to be scared of the answer, or what anyone else is going to think of it. As long as you’re okay, and you’re happy, that’s all that matters to me."

”I think I’m happy,“ Spencer says. "It’s a happy sort of scared."

"That sounds like a fair assessment,” Alex says. “Have you told anyone else?”

“Other than the emails to Hotch and Derek, no," Spencer says. "And the emails were purely hypothetical, although I’m not sure Hotch bought it.”

“Probably not,” Alex agrees. “Did he really ask if you had Lyme Disease?”

“Yeah. Hotch is weird."

They talk for a bit longer, bouncing back and forth between Alex’s thesis and Spencer’s college applications, until Alex suddenly adds up the time difference and makes Spencer get off the phone to go to the dining hall. "We can talk again on Saturday, or before that if you want to,” she promises. “Eat your vegetables, okay?”

“Alex, I’m not twelve anymore, oh my god-"

"Vegetables,” she says again, more firmly. “They’re good for you. Talk to you soon, okay?” Spencer hesitates a little.

“Thank you for listening,” he says. “I thought- thank you."

"I’ll always listen,” Alex tells him. “And I’m glad you told me. Have a good evening, okay? Don’t stay up too late.”

“You too,"

Spencer says, and they hold on for a few more seconds before he finally hangs up. Alex keeps the phone pressed to her ear a little longer, then sighs and swaps it for the box of tissues on her bedside table. It’s always been a little too easy to forget just how young Spencer is, that when all the facts and arguments and experiences fall away, he’s still not even the same age she was when they first met. Not for the first time, she wonders what would have happened to him if he hadn’t made it to St. Thaddeus, hadn’t been pulled safely into the heart of their stubborn little family, and quickly shakes the thought out of her head. She reaches for her phone again, clicks through a few notifications- Emily sending her screenshots of her Words with Friends games against Dave (whether she’s asking for help or simply claiming victory, Alex isn’t sure), Penelope’s cat picture of the day, the secret groupchat planning JJ’s birthday present- before finally sending James a text.

Are we still okay for this weekend?

James answers a few minutes later, the message accompanied by a photo of a dog she recognises as the one that lives somewhere on his block.

Sure thing- if I pick you up Friday afternoon we should be at my parents’ before midnight. Why?

Just got a call from Spencer, that’s all, she sends back.

I didn’t tell him anything, but I think he’ll be pleased to see us.

Caitlin’s (more) notes:

I AM LIVING FOR THIS

he’s Dr. Reid in her phone

they have a standing weekly phone call

I really want to see a sick little Spencer calling Alex and needing her to tell him what to do when he has the flu oh my goodness

HE’S SUCH A SWEET BEAN WITH A FIRST CRUSH I CAN’T HANDLE IT

“tiny and ten and frightened” my heart

“I’m not twelve anymore, oh my god” oh he’s so sure he’s a grownup now but he’s still Alex’s wee babe

THE TEXTS. Emily’s screenshots. the group chat. Penelope’s cat picture of the day. I’m living.

I’m sure Spencer will be SO happy to see Alex. my whole heart.

Thank you SO much for writing this and sharing it with me!!!!

#au: patron saint of lost causes #patron saint: spencer #patron saint: alex #I LOVE them #my pals are cool and make things #that's the new tag I've decided #submission

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srsly-messed-up-fruitloop · 4 years

Text

Tug of War (Ch 3)

ch 1 - prev - next

Word Count: 1,495

(AKA the random Christmas chapter)

The next week, Danny was greeted by the sight of a very pissed off Sam giving Tucker the silent treatment. He had warned him.

Sitting down in his seat, Danny hesitantly asked, “Hey Sam, how was your trip?”

Her vicious glare redirected to him. “Danny, how could you let him install the grill?”

Read on AO3 or under the cut

“Uh…” He looked over to Tucker, who looked like he was about to cry. “I told him it was a bad idea.”

“Yeah, right.”

“I tried, Sam.”

Sam glowered at him for a moment longer before sighing. “Fine. Trip was alright. But I’m so behind on everything now.”

He took notice of her slightly tanned face. “Didn’t get much time to study?”

“No, ugh. My parents wouldn’t leave me alone for a second.”

“Sounds like they’re gonna miss you when you’re gone off to college,” he remarked, remembering his own parents.

“I won’t be gone off to college if they don’t let me study,” she huffed.

Right then, Mr. Lancer strolled in the classroom wearing a Christmas sweater with “TO BE OR NOT TO BE JOLLY” knitted on the front.

Danny couldn’t help the scornful look that appeared on his face. He never could stand the holidays. Every year, when stores started playing their annoyingly repetitive Christmas playlists, every channel on TV kickstarted their broadcast of the same five Christmas movies, and everybody in his life began to treat each other with an exaggerated cheer, he just wanted to vomit. Call him a Scrooge, the Grinch, he doesn’t care. He’d rather go to sleep and wake up in January than go through it all again.

Later that day after school, Danny questioned his entire purpose as he weaved around the mall’s annoying Christmas decorations (more like obstacles) to chase Spectra. Apparently, for the last week, she has been making kids miserable by telling them Santa Claus isn’t real. Which...well, despite how true she is, it still isn’t right for her to relish in their despair.

“Aww Danny, you’re so boring. You won’t even let me have some fun, it’s almost Christmas,” Spectra teased as she shot an ectoblast behind her towards him.

Danny grunted, barely dodging it. “I think you’re misunderstanding the definition of fun. One, in any dictionary you will not find ‘making children miserable’ under ‘fun’. Two, nothing associated with Christmas is fun.”

“Ah right, I almost forgot how much of a Scrooge you are. But we know you act this way to hide something deeper. Tell me Danny, why do you bury those traumatic memor—”

“Shut up Spectra!” Danny yelled before shooting a blast back at her.

She easily dodged it, and smirked at how easily ruffled the boy got. His frustration was so delicious! Spotting Bertrand in his human form, quietly approaching with a string of colourful fairy lights behind him, her smile grew even wider.

Before Danny could react, Bertrand tossed the fairy lights like a lasso, catching his leg and slamming him to the ground. The mall tile instantly cracked upon impact.

Bertrand harshly pulled a Santa hat over the boy’s head before flying off with his companion, cackling.

Wes filmed the entire exchange with his brand new camera while he hid behind a trash receptacle. He couldn’t help but wince when Fenton hit the tile.

“Eh, he’s a ghost, he’ll be fine,” he muttered to himself, zooming in on Fenton’s form as he slowly got up.

Fenton yanked the hat off his head and grumbled, “I hate Christmas,” before chucking it to the ground and taking off to confront the two ghosts again.

Wes stopped the camera and frowned. Fenton hates Christmas?

How could anyone—okay, sure, no doubt the concept of Santa actually came from Satan and the holidays are practically an excuse in today’s society for corporations to milk more money from their consumers. But, even he himself couldn’t help but feel a little happier during the holidays!

Of course, this only further proves Fenton’s true identity. Only a ghost could feel so hateful towards such a merry time of the year, right?

Suddenly, an imaginary light bulb lit up above Wes’ head. His eyes locked on the nearest store selling Christmas decorations and he naughtily grinned.

If Danny could have it his way, he’d just spend the entire day lying in bed. His back was so sore from the fight with Spectra and Bertrand yesterday. Even his self-healing abilities weren’t enough to ease the pain.

Of course, he had to show up today, he had a math test. And a physics lab that counted for twenty percent of his grade. He couldn’t even tell himself that he could rest after school, his entire week was jam-packed with assignment deadlines. It was the last week before winter break but to Danny, it felt like an eternity would pass before he’d get to relax.

He was so looking forward to the break. Don’t get him wrong, he still despised everything to do with Christmas. But he’d happily welcome a break any day. Ghosts also generally calm down around this time because of their truce. Although, Spectra yesterday definitely was an exception.

Before he pondered any longer on that thought, Danny sluggishly opened his locker and froze at what he saw. Every inch of it was covered in loud red and green Christmas wrapping paper, flashing multi-coloured fairy lights lined the door, and ornaments hung from the two hooks. He went to grab his physics textbook and growled when he realized all of his books were also covered in wrapping paper.

“Woah there Danny, I thought you weren’t much of the festive type?”

Danny whipped his head towards the sound of Sam’s voice. “I didn’t do this! Wes—he even wrapped my textbooks!”

It only infuriated him even more when he noticed Sam trying to suppress a laugh. “It’s not funny!”

However those words were lost to her when she couldn’t contain it anymore. Danny scowled and began ripping off the paper on his textbooks.

A few moments later, Sam finally calmed down just when he started to harshly tug on the fairy lights. “You know, even though it’s pretty cheesy to me, people do this. The whole decorating lockers kind of thing. Heck, Paulina still maintains that shrine of you in hers. Maybe Wes just really likes Christmas?”

“But I don’t! It’s my locker too,” he angrily insisted as he continued to pull.

“True. You should still talk to him before doing that,” she said, watching him grip an ornament as if he wanted to crush it.

He paused. “Why are you even trying to defend Wes when you still won’t talk to Tucker?”

She instantly shot an indignant look at him. “That is totally different! I told him not to do it, yet he did it anyways!”

“ You should still talk to him ,” Danny repeated in a mocking tone.

“Ugh! Fine, go and tear down those decorations!” she snapped before stomping off towards their first class.

He coolly observed her retreating form for a moment before crushing the ornament in his hand.

Danny and Sam were already sitting at their lunch table toying with their food and complaining about all their assignments when Tucker walked up to them with a steaming tupperware container. Sam’s look instantly melded into a glare.

“Tucker seriously? I already told you to get rid of that grill and now you’re here making food for yourself?“

“Sam. Here, take this.” Tucker calmly offered the container.

“You know I don—“ she stopped mid-sentence when she noticed it was filled with grilled zucchini slices.

“Try one,” Tucker urged. “I promise, I cleaned the grill properly before cooking these.”

Danny was almost sure she was going to reject it. Except, she grudgingly reached out and grabbed one with her spork.

“What did you put on this?”

He shrugged, “Olive oil, some salt, black pepper, herbs, garlic and onion powder, oh and balsamic vinegar. Just like how you taught me.”

She eyed the slice for a moment longer before taking a bite.

“Look, by the end of lunch, if you still don’t want it, I’ll uninstall the grill, alright?” Tucker proposed.

Sam seemed much calmer now and Danny couldn’t tell if she liked the zucchini or not. “Tucker, I’m mad at you because you didn’t listen to me. It’s our locker we share together, we’re supposed to make decisions together.“

“I’m sorry Sam. I just...”

“Listen, you promise that you’ll take full blame when a teacher finds out?”

“No teacher is goi—”

“Tucker.”

“Alright, I promise.”

This time, Sam smiled and went to grab another slice of zucchini. “What do you say about me bringing in a spice rack tomorrow?”

Tucker looked at her in disbelief for a second before responding, “Heck yeah!”

Meanwhile, Danny was grinning. His friends will always have their squabbles. But somehow, they manage to work it out in the end every time.

Abandoning his own bland lunch, he picked up his spork just when Tucker began to dig in.

#look the meat eater vs vegan trope dies in this ok?#fic #the trio #wes #christmas #grooveactuallywrites #tug of war #the STDs

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welllpthisishappening · 4 years

Text

Aye, But We're Loved by Our Mommies and Dads

Hello, hi, hey there internet. So, this is weird timing with the ask I got earlier today, but I’ve been hoarding a different ask from @ glowofthevendingmachine that said: “every time will scarlet calls emma swan ‘em’ in all was golden in the sky my heart grows about 49 sizes.” And, like, same. My love for Will Scarlet knows no bounds, no matter what ‘verse I am writing in and it’s been nearly a year since I’ve written any All Was Golden in the Sky so here’s some.

In which we have: snarky!Will, magical!Emma, pirate-mode-activated!Killian. Banter! Friendship! Allusions to cute kids! Who steal things. Or. Will Scarlet teaches Emma and Killian’s kid to be a thief.

-----

“Make him stop looking at me like that.”

Emma can’t help her laugh, even through tight lips, a smile that tugs at the corner of her mouth and betrays her feelings about everything that has happened in the last sixteen minutes. Because everything that has happened in the last sixteen minutes is somewhere in the realm of absurd and not entirely surprising.

Will’s eyes keep darting around the room, arms crossed over his chest until Emma is a little concerned that he’s actually going to crack one of his ribs and—

Killian hasn’t moved.

Or blinked.

His fingers keep fluttering over the hilt of his sword.

“Ok, now that’s just unnecessary,” Will grumbles, slumping further in the chair.

Emma laughs again.

She needs to come up with a better word than absurd.

“Seriously, Em,” Will continues, “can you not do something about this? I thought you were the Savior. Save me.”

“What would you like me to do exactly, Scarlet?”

“Look at the face thing he is doing! Right now! He’s trying to intimidate me.”

“I’m pretty positive it’s working. Are you starting to sweat a little?”

“This is not funny.”

“Isn’t it, though?”

“No,” both Will and Killian respond, and Emma has to actually put her hand over her mouth. Her chest aches while she tries to contain her laugh, lungs burning with almost too much oxygen, which is a nice change of pace from previous experience and—

“We did get your boot back, babe,” she reasons.

Killian doesn’t look away from Will. Who pales noticeably. “That’s not the point, Swan.”

“Isn’t it, though?” Will echoes, and all the oxygen files out of Emma. In a rather large and dramatic sigh.

“You really are not helping your own cause at all,” she mutters. “And strictly speaking, the point of this might actually be at the end of Killian’s sword.”

“You’re making jokes.”

“Because you are both being idiots.”

Will huffs, Killian finally turning his attention to Emma — so he can immediately gape at her, as if suggesting this isn’t the most serious thing they’ve ever dealt with is the peak of betrayal. The muscles in her face are going to freeze.

She bites down on her finger.

“He’s the one who did it, anything that happens is Scarlet’s fault,” Killian says, waving the hand still not gripping his sword in the air. Of course, that leaves him brandishing his hook at Will instead, which also leaves Will even paler and—

Emma pulls Killian’s arm down, fingers curling around cool metal until some of the fight almost visibly falls out of him.

Will exhales.

“Still not helping,” she sneers.

“Ok, ok, ok,” Will says quickly, scrambling back up with both of his hands held in mock surrender. “Let’s not send me to the brig or anything.”

Emma’s head falls to Killian’s chest, nearly tripping over her feet when he tugs her closer to his side, like the closeness will help him remember that they shouldn’t actually send Will to the brig.

For teaching their son how to steal things. Multiple things. Everything from earrings that had been on her dresser to a small stack of papers from DunBroch on Killian’s desk to, this morning, his left boot.

That’s the problem.

Or so Killian claims. Emma doesn’t really…get it.

They got everything back.

And yet. Here they are. With the fluttering fingers and an exceptionally sweaty Will Scarlet and—

“You’d have to be on a ship for that,” Killian says, soft enough to be entirely threatening. Emma jerks her head up. He’s totally doing the face thing again.

Will swallows. “Yuh huh.”

“It’s a dungeon when you’re in a castle. That’s basic knowledge. Read a book.”

“Ah, well—not all of us grew up staging a covert relationship with a magical princess, so…”

“Do you not have any sense of self preservation?”

“I didn’t think I needed it with you, honestly.”

Killian deflates slightly, even as the arm around Emma’s waist tightens a fraction of an inch. She presses her lips together again, gaze darting between Will’s still lifted hands and Killian’s clenched jaw, doing her best to make sure the magic she can feel curling at the base of her spine doesn’t manifest itself into protection.

She’s only seventy-two percent positive Killian will actually draw his sword.

She admittedly needs to get better at math.

“Hey, uh, Em,” Will mumbles, “your…well—your hair is doing that thing again.”

Emma hums in confusion, which is not only dumb, it’s pointless because she knows exactly what he means and why it’s happening and it hasn’t happened in years. She’s usually in much better control.

“Oh shit,” Emma growls. She pulls herself out of Killian’s grasp, shaking her hair onto her back like that will fix everything and not send lines of light across the entire room or—“What is that?”

Will twists, glancing in the direction of Emma’s pointed finger, and Killian absolutely kisses the top of her hair before he moves. The light jumps.

And lands directly on the small pile of loot in the corner of the room.

Emma doesn’t even try to mask her gasp.

“Is that—“ she starts, but Killian is already nodding and it was a dumb question anyway. It’s not just toffee. At first glance, it appears to be every single sweet made in the entire kingdom, chocolate bars and bags of something that smells almost like lemon and the last thing Emma expects is for Killian to throw his whole head back.

And laugh.

Rather uproariously.

Will’s eyes have gone very wide.

“Is he—is he still going to stab me, do you think?” Emma only needs four steps to walk forward, lift her right foot and kick Will soundly in his left ankle. “Shit,” he hisses, “you are a violent bunch, aren’t you? A match made in heaven or the Underworld or whatever.”

“Killian, give me your sword.”

“Aw, c’mon, that’s—“

“I thought we weren’t making jokes?” Emma snaps, and it’s been years, so her threat is only a little empty, but Killian is still laughing and she genuinely did not understand why he was upset in the first place.

So. Maybe she’s the absurd one.

Will shrugs, a lopsided smile and tilt of his head, leaning forward to flick his finger against Killian’s side. “Hey, you know you sound like a crazy person, right now, right Captain? I wasn’t trying to offend or anything. Or, uh—you know, step on your piratical toes.”

The laugh stops. Rather abruptly.

And Killian doesn’t spin, so much as he moves in slow motion — Emma’s teeth digging into either one of her lips and her breath catching noticeably in her throat and—

“That probably would have hurt when I only had one boot,” Killian drawls.

“You got it back.”

“Right.”

“Do you not have more than one pair of boots? How is that possible? Are you not a royal pirate?”

He tosses a bag of candy at Will.

Who catches it.

“Oh my God,” Emma exclaims. “What the fuck is going on right now? Seriously!”

Killian grimaces, the toe of his recently-reacquired boot twisting under him when he suddenly appears particularly interested in the floor. Will’s grin stretches.

It takes her twenty-four seconds to understand.

Give or take.

“Is that,” Emma groans, the tips of Killian’s ears going noticeably pink, “are you kidding me?”

“You’ll have to be more specific, love.”

“Did you want to teach our kid how to steal things? Is that honestly what you were mad about?”

“Well, when you say it like that…”

Her jaw drops quickly enough that something cracks as well, more dramatically exhaled oxygen and wide eyes that are starting to water. From surprise. And emotion. Possibly a little magic.

She can’t believe their kid stole toffee.

The more things change, or whatever.

“It wasn’t so much that I didn’t get to teach him how to pick-pocket,” Killian reasons. “Just that—”

Will shakes his head. “This was not pick-pocketing. We’re not using that term. That requires some finesse and let me tell you, your kid does not have that yet. This was just generic looting.’

“Nah, looting is bigger. Also, that’s another thing that’s really better suited for ships.”

“Should you be writing down the rules, do you think?”

Emma stomps her foot — and neither one of the men in front of her jump to attention, technically, but it’s pretty damned close. She’ll make sure to remind them of that eventually. “Ok,” she says, “so if it wasn’t being upset about the petty theft, then…what was it?”

Killian’s fingers find the back of his neck, tugging lightly on the hair there. It’s almost enough to distract Emma from the general color palate of his ears.

“Babe…”

He squeezes one eye shut before he answers. Will does a piss-poor job of not laughing.

Although slightly better than Emma does of not being impossibly endeared by the whole goddamn thing.

“He shouldn’t be stealing things,” Killian explains. “Not really. I mean—he lives in a castle and he’s got everything he could want, right?”

“Are you double checking with me?”

“Of course not. I mean—no. That’s—“

“Absurd?” Emma suggests.

“A little. But—God, fuck you, Scarlet. This is seriously your fault. Because first I was disappointed that he was doing it and then I was even more upset that he could do it and…”

It’s Will’s turn to flush, an inhaled hissed in between his teeth because he understands as well as Emma. Captain Killian Jones, royal consort, former Dark One, True Love, part of the goddamn prophecy that saved them all does not want his kid to be anything except good.

As if he could.

With Killian Jones as his father.

“Oh, well, now I feel like a dick,” Will mumbles. “I wasn’t trying to fuel the circle of self-loathing.”

“And are we equating pretty talented at petty theft to being bad?” Emma adds.

“Phrase that better, Em.”

She shakes her head brusquely, a step back into Killian’s space and fingers curling around his jacket lapels. So she can tug lightly. “At least we know he’s good at something, huh?”

“Jeez.”

“Swan,” Killian chides, but she just tilts her head up and pushes up on her toes and the scruff on his jaw scratches at her mouth when she presses a kiss there. She can feel him exhale. “It’s not exactly the talent I was hoping to pass down.”

“Well, I’m much better at it than you. so—“

“—Uh, excuse me,” Will cuts in, “but who got the kid to pick things straight out of your room?”

“Are we patting ourselves on the back for that?”

“At least not stabbing each other.”

“I was never going to stab you,” Killian says. “I just—if anyone’s going to teach the kid how to pirate, then it should be me. Right?”

“Sounds like you’re double checking again.”

“And I think you’re a much better pirate than Scarlett,” Emma adds, not bothering to move away from Killian’s cheek. It’s easier to feel his answering smile that way.

“High praise,” he mumbles.

“It is our kid.”

“Which is probably why he wanted to steal the candy,” Will points out, standing up in a huff of limbs and vaguely sarcastic expression. “Alright. No more thief 101 with the mini royal. He can learn at the feet of his one-booted father.”

“We got the boot back,” Emma says.

Will hums, nose scrunched and brows pinched and Emma flicks her fingers before she can even think of all the reason’s it’s exceptionally petty to do just that. He stumbles back under the force of her magic, Killian’s laugh echoing off the walls again and maybe directly around Emma’s heart and she’s not all that surprised when he kisses her hair again.

“Gross,” Will gags. “Do I need to sign a blood oath, or is my word that the kid and I will find some other bonding activity good enough?”

“Get out, Scarlet.”

He salutes. “Your Highness. Captain.”

And Emma barely waits until the door is closed behind him before she glances up at Killian, laughter and absurd practically hanging in the air because—

“You actually want to get the kid to steal something of Scarlet’s or you just want to do it ourselves?” she asks.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Eh, we’ll let him grow into piracy, shall we? Plus, we’re more well practiced.”

“You just want immediate revenge.” He nods, lower lip stuck out just enough that Emma can properly nip at it when she kisses him. “Pirate.”

“Indefinitely. C’mon, let’s go steal something.”

#cs ff #captain swan #captain swan ff #cs fic #cs #that stupid witch fic #long time no see old tag #this was very fun to write #thanks for this!!

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dontdietwd · 4 years

Text

Day 69, part 1

Morning sickness hit me like a motherfucker from the moment I woke up. I was throwing up from the moment I left the tent, the sun only starting to pale the sky. I drank some water and laid down again, but was able to nap for just a few minutes when I had to do it all over again. Only when I was able to drink water without wasting it I left our tent area and approached the others. Carol was up and about for what looked like a while, because she was already hanging washed clothes on a line we had extended yesterday.

“Morning,” she said to me. “How are you feeling?”

“Uh… You saw that.”

“Heard you. How far along are you now?

“Thirteen, fourteen weeks by now, I guess,” I told her as I sat in a log near her.

“Oh, that’s about the end of your first trimester,” she smiled at me. “Morning sickness will be over very soon, you’ll see.”

“I hope so… There’s too much to do, can’t be getting sick all the time.”

“You need to eat something. Mr. Greene was saying yesterday that they’d give us some milk from their cows. You could use the calcium.”

I just nodded, the idea of eating a bowlful of milk with a very sugary cereal very appealing to me, too bad we didn’t have any very sugary cereal.

“Speaking of it, I had an idea,” Carol said after my pause. “That big kitchen of theirs got me thinking. I wouldn’t mind cooking in a real kitchen again. Maybe we’ll pitch in and cook diner for Hershel and his family tonight.”

“I wouldn’t mind having a real dinner either… Oh, a thick, warm homemade soup would be soooo nice right now.”

Carol smiled at me, “And there are the cravings.”

“Pfff, these days, to get cravings? I’m so fucked…”

“Hey, it will be fine. We’ll all do our best.”

“Thanks…” I said weakly. “I like the dinner idea. They’ve just lost someone, it’s just something people do, right? And they’re doing so much for us…”

“You mind extending the invitation?”

“Sure… Tonight, you think?”

“Yes, if they agree. I need to keep doing something… Keep my mind occupied.”

“I get it,” I got up from the log. “You do that and let us keep looking,” I stood near her. “I ain’t feeling well enough to go out there with the others today, but I’ll help’em organize the search. We ain’t giving up, and Daryl sure as hell ain��t giving up. You can count on that.”

Carol gave me a tight lipped, watery smile, “Thank you, Sam.”

Lori approached just then, as I was ready to leave, “I can’t believe I slept in,” she was saying.

“You must have needed it,” Carol answered, returning to her laundry.

“All the scare,” I said already taking a step to leave them. “You were exhausted, I bet. We all deserve some occasional rest.”

I did turn to go but Lori called me back, “Uh, Sam? Can I talk to you?”

She sounded a bit nervous and it didn’t feel like she had just woken up, so I knew it had to be something important.

“Sure. Can it wait a bit, though? I need to get today’s search going with the men, but I ain’t going with them, then we can talk.”

She nodded with a little smile that didn’t reach her eyes and it got me apprehensive. I thought it probably would have something to do with the talk I’d ha with her husband yesterday, about staying here or not. But I’d know later.

To the side of the tent area, a few of the man and Andrea were gathered around the same car again, waiting for something, so I marched over there.

“Morning all,” I got to them saying. Daryl was there and I forced myself not to smile too largely at him. He greeted me with a nod and then unfolded the map that was there on the hood of the car. We all stayed there for a while, looking at the map, defining groups and search areas.

“That mean you ain’t going?” Daryl asked me.

“Not a good day for me. Morning sickness came to bite me in the ass just when I thought it was gone. I’d be stalling you stopping to hurl every five minutes. Gotta go do just that in a moment.”

He looked worried at me for another long moment, but we didn’t keep talking because that boy who’d been around the farm with the Greene’s since we arrived, Jimmy, I recognized him as Beth’s boyfriend, approached saying he wanted to help. Great, something happens to him it’s two people on our account.

Shane arrived then with his attitude, shirt open showing pecks. Nice pecks like those in a guy like Shane did nothing for me though.

“Nothing about what you two found screams Sophia to me. Anyone could be holed up in that farmhouse.”

‘Anyone includes her, right?” Andrea rebated.

“Whoever slept in the cupboard was no bigger than yay-high,” Daryl sad gesturing the size of a small person.

“It was a tiny space,” I confirmed. “It’s good lead, and by now the only one we got.”

“Maybe we’ll pick up her trail again,” Rick agreed with us.

“No maybe ‘bout it,” Daryl said leaving no room for questions. “Imma borrow a horse, head to this ridge right here,” he said pointing an area at the map, “take a bird’s eye view of the whole grid. She’s up there, I’ll spot’er.”

“Good idea,” Theo said and I knew he was mocking. Seriously, mocking the plan of the one person in the group could actually find Sophia? “Maybe you’ll your chupacabra up there too.”

Oh, here we go. I knew one day this was going to be mentioned again. Dale explained to Rick’s question what Theo meant. Apparently on our first night as group, still at the road before the quarry, when a group of all of us women were chatting, the men had done the same and Daryl had told a story about one day when he was out hunting he’d seen something and was sure it’d been a chupacabra. When he told me that I didn’t disbelieve, I mean, I never believe in many things that were true to us all these days.

Jimmy laughed at it and became the recipient of Daryl’s annoyance, “What you braying at, jackass?”

“You believe in a blood-sucking dog?” Rick also didn’t have it.

“You believe in dead people walking around?” Daryl asked and Rick had no answer for that.

After that Jimmy wanted a gun, didn’t have it, the whole old story. He ended up being put in a team with Andrea and Theo, since they were the one who’d come back sooner to the farm because Theo wasn’t still fully recovered from all his blood loss. I put Rick and Shane together and Daryl was going alone. He didn’t need back-up.

I should have sent someone with him.

But he’d never agree anyway.

* * *

As I left the house, where I had gone to use the bathroom and ended up throwing up again, I found Glenn on the porch, looking out thoughtfully as he fingered the guitar Dale had found on the road. I was going to sit we him to chat a little, but Lori was at the tents looking pointedly at me. So I just smiled at Glenn and made my way to her. Lori, seeing me coming, walked away from the tents, going a bit further into the trees and I found her sitting on log, holding her hands together between her knees.

“What happened?” I asked noticing her nervousness.

“I need to talk to you.”

“Are you okay?” I asked as I sat by her side, facing her and touching her arm.

“I’m pregnant.”

Blank. Nothing came to my mind to say.

“You - what?” was what I was able to stutter out.

“I – I’m pregnant. Too.”

I just let my mouth hang open. Pregnant.

Fuck.

“Oh-kay…” I managed. “That’s uh…” Ok Sam, stop faking, Lori’s a grown woman. “Well, fuck.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, looking away. “Fuck.”

I blew air out, my cheeks ballooning up for a moment. “How can you be sure?”

“Glenn brought me a test from their pharmacy run yesterday. I asked him not to tell anybody.”

“Ok… Does Rick know?”

“Haven’t told him yet. I don’t know how he’ll react.”

“Well, Rick’s great with Carl, I don’t think he’ll have a problem with a second –”

“Sam,” she said simply and I looked at her. She was giving me a meaningful look that I took a moment to understand.

Oh.

Rick had only been back with her, from his coma, for like a week. It was a real, very, very long week where so much ad happened, that it felt like it’d been months, but that was it. Seven, eight days.

Baby wasn’t Rick’s.

“Oh.”

“I did the math; you did the math. He will too.”

We were silent for another moment, my mind going overdrive again. Two pregnant women. We needed a plan. I needed to make decisions, set up a plan, there was so much to be done in the months before our babies were born.

“Only six months to go before mine,” I said. “Eight or so for yours, you think?”

“Yes, sounds about right. It’s not a lot of time,” and she lowered her elbows to her knees, hiding her face with a huff. “I can’t believe this happened…”

“Hey, it’s okay,” I told her recognizing the first desperation signs I’d had myself. I didn’t want her to go through them as well. “You ain’t gonna be alone in this,” I placed a hand on her shoulders making her look sideways at me, her head resting in a hand. “None of us are. It’s why we have a group for, so nothing gotta be faced alone. Especially this.”

She kept looking at me for a moment, shaking her head and then gave me a little smile, “I find it incredible how positive you manage to keep eve when facing all of this.”

“Being negative won’t make me survive. Desperation won’t find my baby a safe place to be born and grow up in.”

“You’re right. I know that, but right now, I’m just – I…” she huffed again.

“I know how you feel. Been there not long ago.”

"Can I ask you something?”

"Sure."

"Your baby... Is it really not Daryl's?"

I laughed, looking away from Lori no my own boots. "No... It really ain't his."

"Well... He sure acts like it is, always protective over you… Setting your tent with his away from the others," and then she looked at me sideways, lowering her head to find my eyes and give me another meaningful look, “Giving you foot rubs.”

“Oh, uh…” I paused to laugh nervously. Was I blushing? I think I was blushing, dammit. “You saw that.”

“Yeah, I did see that… I was going to take my test far from the others and there you were, lying down getting your feet rubbed!”, she was smiling widely now.

"Yeah, it's just... That's just Daryl. He's really protective. You see how he's with Sophia."

"Hm, true. But there's something there, isn't it?"

"Me and Daryl?" I asked just to stall the answer, because it her question had been really obvious.

"Yes, he doesn't talk much with anyone else, except maybe Carol now with the Sophia thing – but even then not as much as with you. You two are always around each other."

"We are. Yeah, but… It's not like that... Or at least... I mean, we grew up nearby, never had much contact but we were always seeing each other around, but what got us close was... Well... Something happened right before the outbreak."

"Between you two?"

I laughed, "Not that! I mean... Well, two guys Daryl and Merle knew broke into my house to attack me."

Her expression changed immediately "Oh, God."

"Yeah, and I fought them, and then Daryl and Merle came into my house to help me, they'd heard the fight. They protected me just because I'd been their neighbor, not even a friend. And that night was the first time we saw people turning into walkers, you know, so I think it brought us close together."

"How did they turn? Were they bit?"

"Well, if it's by being bit that people turn, the first guy probably had been bitten before, I don't know. Because after he died there in my living room, he got up and bit his friend."

Lori shook her head, her eyes wide, "I have so many questions! You... killed the guy?"

Oh, the sound of judgement. I looked at Lori dead in the eye and told her with no hesitation in my voice, "He was on top of me trying to lower my pants with his other hand around my neck," I paused. "What'd you think I should've done?"

Lori swallowed hard in silence and nodded after a moment. "I see... You're right. As hard as it is to admit, I'd probably do the same."

"A sense of self-preservation kicks in, Lori. I didn't even plan to push that knife into his neck. All I know is that I was not raped that night."

Lori nodded again and looked down, her understanding it hitting her, "So he then turned."

"Yeah, it was the first one we saw. He just got up, attacked his friend and then he turned too, and it was all a mess."

"I see... Those things have the power to bring people together or just do them apart for good."

"Well, it did this group together. And we'll stay like this," I reached for Lori's hand. "You and I are bringing new people to the world, people who will help us still have a future even with all that happening. Seems the world hasn’t ended after all!"

Lori smiled tightly at me and squeezed my hand back, shaking it a bit, "Thank you, Sam."

"Nothing to thank me for."

"Yeah, I do. We all do and you know it."

I let go of her hand looking away, "Oh, come on..."

"At least let me thank you for being so supportive to me?" I looked again at Lori, “And even more for not judging me.”

I was genuinely confused about the last bit and asked “Why would I judge you?”

“Well, for… Being pregnant when my - my husband wasn’t around.”

Oh, that.

“Lori, listen to me. You won’t let anybody judge you for that. I’ll easily defy anyone who does. I know you and I haven’t agreed on everything since the beginning, but it don’t matter. I’ll be on your side on this one. You thought your husband was dead, you were scared, alone, and you found comfort in someone you trusted. There is nothing wrong with that. I personally don’t like Shane a lot and everybody knows that, but he was the person you trusted the most then, who had your back, who was taking care of you and your son. And dammit, you were a fuckin’ widow for all you knew, so you didn’t cheat on anyone. Please, don’t feel guilty about this, it ain’t your fault.”

She had tears in her eyes as I spoke and her hand was gripping mine strongly. She said “Oh, dammit, come here,” before pulling me to a tight hug.

* * *

Andrea, Theo and Jimmy were back. Rick and Shane were back – and man, you could cut the air around them with a knife. Something bad had happened, they were throwing each other dirty looks and staying apart. I got really worried for Lori, because it had seemed to me Shane might have told Rick about their short lived relationship, but when I saw Rick talking normally to Lori I knew it had to be something else.

So they were all back from the search, with no news whatsoever… All, except for Daryl. He’d been gone for hours now and we were in the late afternoon already, the sun approaching the horizon. He had to be back by now.

“One of my horses is missing,” was what Mr. Greene used to open the conversation as he approached me by the stalls.

“Missing?”

“Yes, unaccounted for. Do you happen to know anything about this?”

“Yes, I actually do, but I thought you knew. Daryl went out to search on a horse today, I thought he’d spoken to you first.”

“He did not,” he said firmly.

Damn, Daryl. “I’m sorry about that, I’ll talk to him.”

“And Jimmy? You sent him out with your group today. Did he also give you the impression of my consent?”

“He did. I asked him if you were fine with it and he said you allowed it and only had to speak to me.”

“Jimmy is seventeen.”

“Seventeen-year-old people can already understand the concept of a lie, Mr. Greene.”

“He’s a minor, and he’s not my kin, but he’s my responsibility. These things need to be cleared with me.”

I nodded, quiet. He was right. I didn’t think Jimmy shouldn’t be held accountable for his lie – goddammit what if something had happened to him out there? But Mr. Greene was right.

“I’ll talk to my group,” I told him. “I’ll watch over them and any decision we have to make, I’ll run by you first.

“I’d appreciate that, Sam. You control your people, I control mine.”

Control my people... You’d think with a bunch of adults who had whole lives before, responsibilities, you could count on their own common sense, but he was right. They needed leadership or they’d just keep sending people down wells.

The women were inside the house preparing dinner, all except for me and Andrea. I was pacing, trying to find something to do, considering going to cook with them inside, but I couldn’t. I was worried when I shouldn’t be. I mean, it was Daryl, the was tough, be knew what he was doing, he was fine and would be hell of annoyed if he knew I’d been worrying that much.

And then Andrea distracted me from the worries when she climbed up the RV and took Dale’s rifle and stood in watch. I didn’t know Shane had placed her in watch… He’d specifically gotten approval for a gun on site if it was for Dale to lookout, and now there she was, all pose.

“What’s with the Annie Oakley routine?” Dale beat me to ask, looking up at her.

“I don’t wanna wash clothes anymore, Dale,” she said looking down at him and then saw me there too, “I wanna help keep the camp safe”, and then used a defying tone, passive-aggressiveness all over her voice, “is that alright with you?”

“I ain’t the one you should run this by, Andrea, you know that. Ask Shane before just picking up a gun and taking over. You didn’t even get much training anyway!”

She rolled her eyes, not even bothering to hide how annoyed she was by my leading. God, I really, really disliked her. I turned around to go talk to Shane, because she hadn’t moved a muscle to go do as I said, when she called out.

“Walker! Walker!”

I turned to look at where she was pointing, squinting and making a shade over my eyes, and there it was, a walker had just left the trees and was walking towards the camp. Rick, Shane, Theo, everyone who was around came running, ready.

“It’s just one,” I informed them as they approached me.

“I bet I can nail it from here!” Andrea said picking up the rifle she’d let go to use the binoculars.

“No!” I shouted. “Put the gun down, Andrea, shooting is our last resource, and we’ve all told you many times.”

“We’ll handle this,” Shane told us all and he, Rick and Theo took off in the walker’s direction. Three men for one walker? They had it. I didn’t even bother to go there. I really wasn’t worried.

“Andrea, don’t!” I heard Dale say and looked up at the RV to see Andrea lying down, taking aim.

“Back off, Dale,” she told him and armed the rifle.

“The fuck you think you’re doing, Andrea?” I asked up at her. “They have it!” she didn’t move. “Andrea, I’m talking to you! Do not shoot! The noise will attract more walkers and you’ll just waste a bullet!”

The sound of her shot deafened me for a second, made Dale and I flinch. I wasn’t expecting t, I really thought she was going to stop and not shoot, all angry and whatever, but she just fucking did it anyway. She laughed in joy when she hit the target, the walker falling to the ground.

“God fuckin’ dammit, Andrea!” I shouted, but mine were not the only shouts. Rick was yelling “No!” from a distance and Andrea was getting up on the RV, looking worried.

“Andrea, please don’t tell me you hit one of them!”

“Oh no,” she was saying. “No, no, no!”

She’d hit someone. I was sure she had and my stomach went cold and my right wrist and my palm ached like a bitch. I took off in their direction, the sun blinding me, Andrea and Dale quickly catching up. This time I wouldn’t hold myself, I’d bitch slap her in the face.

But everything around me froze and went silent from a second to another. I stopped, they kept on running. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t breathe. It was like I was underwater with no air and the sounds muffled. It was Daryl, being carried by Rick and Shane, limp, lifeless, bloodied from head to toe. I heard nothing, Rick said something to me as they passed but I didn’t register, just turned to follow them with my eyes as they took Daryl to the house.

Someone dragged me away, I think it was Glenn, gently making me walk because I was still frozen. They had entered the house minutes ago now and I was still there. The only things that unfroze me was the sight of Andrea and Dale sitting on the porch steps.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Dale was telling her. “At some point, we’ve all wanted to shoot Daryl.”

I felt my blood boil, saw red as people say, as I marched up to them. They saw me arriving and got startled. I stopped in front of Andrea and leaned town to level with her.

“You listen to me, Andrea,” she had her eyes wide, frozen looking at me. “Daryl dies; I will kill you. I. Will. Fucking. Kill you,” I paused for effect. “This conversation ain’t over, do you hear me?” and I turned to look at Dale. “Have we all wanted to shoot Daryl? For what? Hunting and bringing back meat to feed us all this time? Teaching everyone how to deal with walkers? Getting himself in danger to look for Sophia?” I straightened my back and looked down from one to another, they stunned faces thrilling me. “Daryl’s more useful to this group than the two of you combined.”

At that I stormed up the steps between them and entered the house. The women in the kitchen were still cooking but looked startled at me across the dining room, looking worried, especially Carol. I said nothing and ran up the stairs. I needed to see him, know if he was alive, if Andrea’s aim had been that good and what the hell had all that blood on his shirt and on his chin been. Was he bit? I was praying for a God I wasn’t even sure I believed in that he wasn’t bit.

Rick was outside a closed door and saw me approach, and took quick steps to meet me halfway.

“He’s fine,” was what he immediately said at my probably desperate expression. I didn’t really register it well, though. “It was just a graze; it didn’t really hit him. Sam?” he said to make me look at him because I’d been trying to look at the closed door over his shoulder. I looked up at him, “Daryl’s fine. He’s not dead, not bit. He’s hurt, but he’ll be fine.”

Oh. Good. Great, good to hear. But I had to see him.

“Where’s he now?”

“Hershel’s insisted he got cleaned up before stitching him. Was not an easy argument,” he attempted a joke to lighten the mood. “When he’s washed up he’ll get stitches to his side and his head, and he’ll be as good as new.”

I must have visibly relaxed because Rick let go of my arms, also looking calmer. I hadn’t even noticed he’d been holding me by the upper arms.

“Ok,” I said. “Good. Ok, that – that’s good.”

I stayed on the hallway with Rick, quiet for a while, still pacing from one end of it to another for a while until the bathroom door was opened. Hershel came out helping Daryl walk. He was wearing clean pants and no shirt and was guided across the hall to a bedroom. I don’t think he saw me there, Rick entered right after them and I got to the door, hovering there for a moment. Hershel motioned Daryl to lay on his side so he wouldn’t press on the wound, and put a clean cloth in his hand telling him to pressure the head wound. But he was fine. Breathing, talking, complaining, saying something about a doll. Shane passed by me then, all but ignoring my presence, carrying the same rolled up map we’d been using to plan the searches, and he and Rick started asking Daryl questions about the location, where he’d found it, and Daryl explained it all as if there was no needle being poked into his skin as he talked. Lori came then, standing by me wordlessly. Hershel said something about the missing horse as well, but I didn’t care, not at all. As he left the room, he stopped to look at me at the threshold and said, “it’s a wonder you people have survived this long.”

I said nothing but noticed Daryl looked at me then, I think only now noticing I’d been there. I gave room for Hershel to leave and took a step into the room as Shane got up from his chair and left the room. Lori followed him to say something, both of them stopping on the same hallway but a bit ahead of he with hushed voices. Rick was still in there, I could hear him and Daryl still talking. I had no idea what to do. I wanted to go in and tell Rick to get the hell out so I could be alone with Daryl, but at the same time, what would I say? If I said anything right now I’d demonstrate all I was feeling, how terrified I was of losing him, how much it had hurt to think he was dead, how lost I’d be without him, that I didn’t want to do any of this surviving thing if he wasn’t there by my side.

I turned to leave, overwhelmed with my own conclusion.

I was in love with Daryl.

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2ugars · 5 years

Text

ੈ♡˳ death by ramen , lty

pairing: best friend!taeyong who’s tired of bratty!fem reader

genre: fluff. that’s it.

words: 2.1k

a / n : cross-posted as a haikyuu au fic on ao3, linked here. it’s my account, don’t worry. i’ve just revamped this version (though not by much) to most appropriately fit to taeyong’s character more.

also, happy late birthday to our leader!!! :D

---

“[Name], this entire visit just confirms how utterly hopeless you are when it comes to making decisions,” the boy mutters under his breath, his eyes briefly closing as he sighs in exasperation.

You’ve been standing in the seventh aisle selling ramen for what seemed like hours and Taeyong is rather close to throwing you over his shoulder and walking straight out of the grocery store (whether it be with or without food, he doesn’t exactly care anymore, he just wants this to be over and done with).

“I am not indecisive if that’s what you’re trying to say!” You huff, arms crossing indignantly. “I’m just taking my time to weigh out the pros and cons of buying six bundles of instant ramen. Have a little faith in me, you jerk. You’re supposed to be my best friend.”

“Yeah, your best friend, not your freakin’ guardian,” he pokes a forefinger to the space between your eyebrows, ignoring your whines of protest when he pushes your head back. “And no one in their right mind would buy six bundles of ramen. Are you trying to kill yourself?”

You duck away from him, turning your attention to the other products on the shelves. “Death by ramen doesn’t sound too bad if you think about it...”

“No.”

You ignore him. You then toss two Exclusive 24-Packet Ramen bundles into the shopping cart before moving up the aisle, and Taeyong automatically returns it to its location, yawning as he does so.

“You can’t say no to death, Taeyong,” you lift a cup of noodles, turning it over in your hands as you reads the ingredients in hangul. “It’s inevitable, and better you accept it than try to dodge it—you said so yourself.”

His eye twitches. “[Name]–”

“Hey, come to think of it, didn’t you say that during our final exams? You got a sixty-three in one of them, isn’t that right? I mean, I guess it makes sense; you’ve always been horrible at math,” you reminisce innocently, placing the noodles back to where it had come from.

Taeyong presses the heels of his hands to his eyes, throwing his head back as he makes a noise of distress, startling nearby customers. “[Name], you’re missing the point!”

The girl making him want to gouge his eyes out (you) stares at him indifferently for a few beats. When he drags his palms down to fully cover his face, he peeks between the gaps of his fingers just in time to see the corner of your lip twitch up into an amused smile.

“Shut up,” he mumbles.

You lift a shoulder in a cool shrug, dismissing him, and skip down the aisle. Taeyong trails after you, a little defeated, but he quickly recovers after watching you frolic to and fro.

“What else do we need, hubby?”

Taeyong rolls his eyes at the mocking nickname (he doesn’t deny it, though, because he supposes your relationship is somewhat similar to an old married couple, anyways). He slips his phone out of his pocket and checks his notes application, going over the list of items the both of you are required to purchase in order for you and your family to survive the week ahead.

“Shampoo, a small can of oats, and three cartons of milk,” he says, pausing to stream further down. “Also, the, uh, Waterfall of Bloody Hell is due in a few days, so uh, you might wanna get pads. I got you two tubs of ice cream already, and I’m pretty sure they’re in your freezer.”

“How reliable of you, Tyongie,” she quips, “you’re so good to me!”

He grunts in response, a faint blush tinging his cheeks red.

The moment the both of you step foot into the dairy section of the grocery store, you’re already scrutinizing the different varieties of ice cream in the chilled compartments. Taeyong lingers by, one hand snug in the front pocket of his hoodie as he leans against the shopping cart’s handle, scrolling aimlessly through his phone’s photo gallery of memes. You surface from the freezer, bits of ice flakes now speckling the front of your pink top. You wave a vanilla cone in his face and he cranes his neck, all the while staring at his phone, to avoid being hit.

“Could you buy this for me?”

He reacts with a scowl but does not turn his gaze to you, preoccupied with his phone. “[Name], I literally just told you that I bought you two tubs, and here you are, nearly stabbing me in the eye with the end of a co– oh my gosh, hold it properly, will you?!” He grabs hold of your wrist, ceasing your actions before readjusting your grip of the frozen dessert.

You giggle, your bell-like laughter ringing in the otherwise dreary atmosphere of the supermarket. Taeyong’s dirty look softens at the sound and is soon replaced with an absentmindedly endeared expression. He doesn’t realize he’s been staring at you until you gently pull away from him, unperturbed by his open ogling.

He blinks. His cheeks flare a vibrant red and he pulls his hood over his head, obscuring your view of his blushing face.

“I take your angsty demeanor as a ‘no’, then,” you say with a snort, plucking the device from the singer’s hands. You toss the cone back into its compartment, sliding the glass lid closed. “You’re crankier than usual, Taeyong. One might even say you’re the one who’s bleeding.”

“Nah. You’re just a lot more intolerable today.”

“Rude.”

You walk over to the chilled shelves stocked with milk cartons while skimming through the list. Now with three cartons cradled in your arms, you waddle over to where Taeyong sulks and delicately line them inside.

The boy threads his fingers through his hair, smoothing out the black locks in an attempt to fix his disheveled appearance. “Are we done here?”

“Yup!” You beam up at him and he affectionately tugs on a strand of your hair as you start walking. “Now to get the oats...hmm, do I want instant or traditional, decisions, decisions… Hey, Tae–”

“Get traditional,” he says without skipping a beat, rolling the cart next to you. He pauses to listen to your hum of response turn into a nonsensical tune, a gentle smile gracing his features, then adds, “it’s a lot healthier.”

---

Fifteen minutes later, you receive a text from your mother containing another list of groceries you are tasked to purchase. Taeyong wants to throw himself in one of the fish tanks near the meat section at the news, and you fortunately prevent him from doing so...before rationalizing that he shouldn’t do it without video evidence (Taeyong, in the end, is the one to drag you away from the fish tanks).

You now stand back to where you started, in the ramen aisle, the shopping cart filled to the brim with fresh produce, food, snacks, and toiletries. As you contemplate the purchase of your ramen once more, Taeyong contemplates life in the background.

Your lips part to question Taeyong about whether to buy the twelve-pack or the six-pack bundle, but you’re interrupted by the sound of giddy chortles down the aisle. You turns your head to acknowledge the noise and are greeted with the sight of a small group of girls your age. To your relief, they do not pay much detail to you. To your amusement, their undivided attention is to your best friend idly standing next to you.

He’s ridiculously attractive. Do you think his hair is natural? Do you think the girl near him is his girlfriend? He’s so cute. Go talk to him. No, you go talk to him!

It makes sense, you suppose, for the male, as prickly and as edgy as he may be, is undeniably handsome in the all-black attire he’s sporting. The lone piercing that’s located at his left helix glints in the supermarket’s lighting, further supporting what the girls are likely discussing in their circle: that this boy standing in the ramen aisle is a typical bad boy.

You chew on the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from laughing at that ridiculous assumption. Lee Taeyong is anything but. A thought crosses your mind as your eyes follow the defined line of his jaw, and you can’t help it. You smile smugly.

What a perfect opportunity to be petty and show them that he's taken reserved.

And who are you to leave your audience un-entertained?

Masking your features with an air of indifference, you stand before him. His eyes are glazed over as he stares off into nothing and you find yourself shaking your head in fond exasperation before you press your fingertip to the tip of his nose, pushing upwards to make him look like a little pig. He pulls his face away, grimacing in annoyance at the disruption called [Name] in front of him.

“What.”

You don’t say anything and instead, plop yourself face-first into his chest. He makes a small noise of surprise at the sudden weight against his front, his balance wavering for a split second before he rights himself. He chuckles after a moment or two, the sound resonating throughout his chest.

You are startled when your heart warms.

“You’re so needy,” he remarks, childish mirth coloring his tone of voice. “Did you get stuck with what flavor you wanted? Do you need help? I honestly think eating ramen is unhealthy...I heard somewhere that instant ramen is made of cement. That’s horrible for your digestive system.”

You laugh at his constant fretting. You then feel something laying on your head, and after a time of pondering as to what it is, you finalize with the theory that it is his palm. Your hypothesis, however, is debunked when you feel the familiar movement of Taeyong carding his fingers through your hair—using both of his hands.

To satisfy your curiosity, you shift your head to look up, only to be met with the dark eyes of your best friend.

He had been resting his cheek on top of your head in place of his hand.

They’re cute together, huh?

Your eye twitches.

Taeyong lets one hand cup your cheeks and squishes them together to mimic a fish. When you attempt to force yourself away from his tight grasp, he only makes a similar face down at you, keeping a steady yet gentle hold on you.

“Oi, smile more. You’ll get frown lines.”

“Daemyong, I mill mot hethitate to boite yew might mow.”

She’s definitely his girlfriend. Aw, that’s too bad! I’m not that mad, really – just look at them! They look adorable together.

He laughs, releasing you. You roll your eyes, having had enough of the ‘game’ that you probably shouldn’t have started in the first place (because now, your heart’s palpitating, what the frick frack paddy whack does your organ think it’s doing), and turn your back to him, recommencing in deciding what ramen to buy.

The girls have left, not disappointed at all.

Behind you, Taeyong sighs, but there is a half-smile on his face. He reaches over and drapes his arms on either side of your shoulders, forefinger pointing at what looked like the healthiest ramen in the aisle. His chin lays atop the center of your head, and though you express an irked attitude to his apparently obnoxious gesture, you’re trying your hardest not to smile.

“We’re never going to get out of this building, are we?” Taeyong asks five minutes later, not having moved from his position. He sounds so wistful that you let out a cackle.

“I don’t think so,” you admit. You lean back against him, causing the boy to reposition his head to your shoulder while you tucks your head into the crook of his neck.

“Tell you what,” he says, “if we leave right now, I’ll treat you to that ice cream parlor everyone’s freaking out over.”

“The really cute one with the cat foam lattes and ice cream bouquet cones?”

“Yeah. That.”

You pause to think it over then shake your head when you makes up your mind. “It’s alright. I have a better idea.”

---

( Turns out said ’better idea’ was just you hauling home six bags of groceries and, to Taeyong’s distaste, purchasing a bundle of Exclusive 24-Packet Ramen.

“When you turn into a cement statue,” Taeyong says bitterly as he carries four bags because freakin’ heck, [Name], don’t you know that two trips back and forth just isn’t worth it? “I will gladly keep you in the dorms as a lesson for the Dreamies.”

“And I will accept it. I will accept any form of death.”

“[Name]—” A tired sigh. “[Name], you’re so stupid, that’s not what I meant.” )

#taeyong imagines #taeyong fic #taeyong scenario #lee taeyong #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct fic #nct au #nct 127 #sfw #kie writes

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ad-n-kay · 4 years

Text

Prince Charming is Not my Type

Chapter One- Sweetheart

Tuesday- January 2, 20XX.

Nova Hazel Marquez

I stood by my locker, taking out my math book, with my two best friends at my side. Marley, the school hipi, to my left and Luca, the school's star quarterback, to my right. We are a 'strange bunch' as everyone says. Me, Nova Hazel Marquez, being the school tomboy. The halls were packed and loud, as it always is every morning. Filled with teens bickering about parties, boy drama, and Prom that's coming up. Conversations floating around about who's going to be there and with whom. The main people on everyone's lips, the three musketeers, as they call themselves... I roll my eyes thinking about Emma, the school mean girl, cheerleader and how she could try and steal the heart of one of our school's musketeers. As she tries to do every year before Prom.

Think of the devils and they may come, the hall grew silent as the schools three bad boys entered the hallway. All students moved to make them a path through the crowded hall. I turned back to my locker; the three musketeers walked down the hall behind me, musketeer number three being Parker Davis. Tall broad shoulder brunette with the lightest blue eyes you could imagine. Number two being Coal Micheals, slim but buff, smiling blondy with brown eyes. Probably the worlds biggest player. And of course number one, mister heart-throb of the school Logan MacKellin. Tan, tall, muscular, black wavy haired, hazel golden eyed hunk who believe it or not doesn't date! All of them wearing their signature black ripped jeans, white t-shirt, and black leather jacket. Classic bad boy look.

A gasp came from Marley and I turned to see what shocked her, even though I didn't care nor want to know. What I saw even shocked me. There, in front of the three bad boys, stood a tall dark red haired girl who held a schedule in her hands. Must be new here. By the look on the bad boys' faces, you could tell she wasn't having a pleasant conversation with the three. Coal looked pissed, Logan looked amused and Parker looked shy, strange, that's not like him. You see, Parker and I used to be close, he was once a part of the "strange bunch," then he started to hang with his other friends, the musketeers, more than us, so naturally, I know him pretty well.

At this point, Coal was as red as a tomato and speechless. Logan was holding his knees laughing and trying to catch his breath. And Mr. Shy was looking anywhere, but at the new girl walking away, with a slight blush on his face. All I heard from their conversation was something about "ducklings," strange, why would that piss Mr. Bad Boy off so much, crack the other up and make the last blush?

I shook my head as they began to walk. Saying bye to Luca and Marley, I grabbed my bag and started to head to class. With me being my stupid, clumbsy self, I bumped into someone. OHHHHH!!! That's a muscular stomach and chest! I thought. Without looking up I mumbled sorry and started to walk again, but was stopped dead in my tracks because of two things. One was Coal, he sounded irritated, with a huff he said "Everyones getting in our way today, aren't they?" Damn that sounded bitter. And two, there was a hand around my wrist, stopping me from walking further.

I looked up and saw Logan, the owner of the hand along with the muscular chest and stomach. I frowned and furrowed my eyebrows at him.

"Yes?" I questioned "Can I walk without you grabbing me?"

"Sorry Nova, you were going to run into Parker if I didn't stop you," he said back.

WOW! WOW! WHAT?

He knows my name? How?

What the fuck? We've like, never talked, ever!

Wow, Mr. Heart throb knows my name.

"Awe, sweetheart, don't look so confused and worried. I just don't want you bumping into anyone else, try not to watch your feet so much," he smirked at me.

I looked dumbly at him.

Sweetheart? What?

"Head to class, Nova, you're going to be late," he said with a bright smile.

"Uh, yeah, thanks Logan," it came out as more of a question than an answer.

"No problem, love," he said.

And with that I headed to bio. Parker trailing behind me, him as well, looking confused. Parker catches up to me,"Sweetheart? Love?," he questioned. "You know, I didn't even know he knew my name, and what's up with the pet names?" I asked him. He shrugged, "I'm not sure, I've never heard him use pet names with anyone." Weird. Oh well.

"So... Mr.Shy, you like the new girl," I asked.

He just blushed and shook his head. I chuckle at his childishness and then we walk into Bio. We both sat at the same lab table, but with a space in between us.

"So, how did Logan learn my name?" I asked him.

"I'm not sure, but you do know that we have gone to school with him since primary school, right?" he said.

"We have!?" I questioned, "how did I not notice him tell high school?"

He laughed and shrugged again, "I don't know, Via, you're not the most observant," he said.

"HEY!," I growled then smacked his arm. He just laughed and got his notebook out.

"It is kind of strange though," he said.

"What?," I asked.

"That he knows your name," he answered.

"How?," I mumbled confused.

"Well, you see he doesn't learn the names of the girls in this town, or at all, actually," he said.

"Why not?" okay, now I'm really confused.

But before I could get an answer, Parker looked towards the door and blushed, completely going silent. When I looked I saw the new girl walking in. Yeah he definitely likes her. The new girl looks around searching for a seat. Goody the only open one is next to Parker! The new girl noticed and headed our way, she sits and turns towards me and in a thick scottish accent ,"Hello, my name is Ricolette Amethyst MacCormack. And you are?" "Do we really have to do the middle name thing?" I asked. ̈"That's a bit too formal for me." She chuckles, "heh, nice. I already like you. So, what's your name?" she asked. "Not into the formal stuff are you," I chuckled, "by the way, I'm Nova Marquez." Ricolette went on to explain why she doesn't like things that are formal, but quited down as the teacher walked in. I noticed Parker not writing and bouncing his leg anxiously. Nervous that the new girl sat next to you,are we? It's okay little Parky, I doubt Ricy will bite. Oh I'm calling her that from now on.

~~~~~

"What's wrong Parky, forgot how to write?" I teased with a big smirk on my face.

Next to me, Ricy began to laugh, quite loudly and then apologized for interrupting class.

"Yeah, we're definitely going to be good friends," she whispered to me. I smiled at that. I really hope, there's no one else at this school other than her and I that is willing to stand up to the Musketeers, so I hope we end up being good friends. It would be fun to torture the bad boys with her.

Before I knew it, we had finished our class work and class had come to an end. I guess it's off to english for me.

.....

Second period seemed to end before it began. And then I had to head to Spanish class. As I walked I had a weird feeling that everyone was watching me, but also like someone was following me.

Oh well.

"Hola Nova," my spanish teacher greeted me as I walked to the door.

"Hola Logan," she said looking past me.

My neck snapped to look behind me, and sure enough Mr. Heartthrob was right behind me, just looking at me.

Since when did Mr. Heartthrob have spanish with me? I thought, deciding it would be fine to say it out loud.

"Since when did you have spanish with me?" obviously not calling him Mr. Heartthrob, don't want to boost his ego, now do we?

"Awe, you break my heart, Nova. We have been in the same spanish classes since freshman year and you're just now noticing me? I'm hurt," he said mocking fake pain, with a hand on his beautiful, muscular chest.

Wow, beautiful, muscular chest? What? I think I need to stop staying up till 1am reading, I think I'm going delusional.

"Oh whatever Mr. Ego," I said to him, walking into the class.

"Awe, now you're walking away from me, you pain me, sweetheart," he said with and obvious smirk playing in his voice.

Again with the pet names? Parker said he doesn't use pet names! Let alone, learn a girl's name.

"What's up with all the pet names, Mr. Bad boy?" I questioned.

"Tsk, tsk, love, don't question me, it might end up bad. And if anything, I should be asking what your infatuation is with calling me Mr. Blank. You got a naughty kink I should know about, pumpkin?" he smirked.

THIS PRICK!!! What the fuck?! Wait, Pumpkin? Another one?

"UGH!!! Fuck you, prick!" I said irritated.

"Anytime, darling," he smirked.

Does he always smirk so much? Is that just his face? God he's irritating, oh but so hot!!! Yeah I definitely need sleep.

I growl in frustration and walk further into the class, past him, taking a random seat in the back of the class, just ready for this class to be over already. To my despise, he walked in and took the seat next to me.

How fucking lovely!!! Note my sarcasm.

I turned to him smirking," Obsessed with me, are you?" I teased.

Might as well piss him off so he stops talking to me.

"Always, pumpkin," he smirks.

Oh he so didn't.

"Isn't there someone else you can go and bug? And not me?" I asked, clearly getting annoyed.

"Sorry, sweetheart, but class has already started, plus I have to get you back for running into me this morning, don't you think it's only fair?" he teased.

"Oh that's so not fair, I didn't see you, I was looking down," I grumbled.

"Yeah, but you still ran into me, love. You really need to stop watching your feet, so much, when you walk," he smiled.

Wow! His smile is mesmerizing! Okay, Nova, stop swooning!

"And what do you suppose I look at instead?" I questioned.

"Well Nova, you could always look at me," he smirked again.

This cocky prick!

"And why would I want to do that?" I said, trying not to chuckle at the look on his face, sadly the surprise was gone quicker than it showed up.

"Because I'm undeniably sexy," he smirked.

"I beg to differ, I'd rather look at Parker," I smirked, knowing I was getting to him. His face flashed with an emotion I couldn't recognize, but it left, again quicker then it showed up.

Strange...

"You pain me, princess," he chuckled.

God, he's just adding to the list of pet names!!!

" I do that a lot, don't I?" I asked.

"Yeah, especially since..." he couldn't finish his sentence because our spanish teacher shushed us and began to speak.

Since what?! What was he going to say! Oh lord help me.

"Hola clase," she said enthusiastically.

"Hola senora Mason," the class mumbled. And of course, I stopped listening after that.

What was he going to say? What the hell? Have I changed? Wait he didn't even know me before today. God I'm confused.

When senora Mason asked what the date was, in spanish I heard Logan grown next to me.

Don't like spanish, do we Mr. Heartthrob?

I bumped Logan. "Don't really like spanish?" I asked and the class answers senora Mason, saying "Es la dos de enero."

"It's not that I don't like it, it's just that it's annoying to learn things you already know," he whispered to me.

"Already know?"

"Yeah, I'm fluent in spanish, took this class for credit," he chuckles.

WHAT THE HELL?! Mr. Heartthrob is hot and smart?! Score!!! Okay, stop that, Nova, stop right now.

"Awe, sweetheart, you're looking confused again," he chuckled.

"Who knew Mr. Heartthrob was smart?" I mumbled under my breath hoping he wouldn't hear.

"Not many people, love," he smirked.

Ahhhhh shit!!!

"Don't tell people I'm smart, and I wont tell people that you called me Mr. Heartthrob," he chuckled.

THIS PRICK!!!

"Ugh, you're irritating!" I growled.

"Deal or no deal?" he asked, sticking his hand out for me to shake.

"Ugh, deal!," I grumbled, taking his hand.

We shook, but he didn't let go of my hand yet. Instead, he looked down at it, looking straight at my thin silver ring with a slight greenish blue design, made to look like leaves.

He began to twirl it around my finger. It always was on my right ring finger. My mother gave it to me for my 15th birthday. Two days before I got in "the accident."

Under the ring sat a scar. It was less than 5cm, but just big enough to notice.

He stopped playing with my ring, looking at the scar that hide under it's thin band.

"Where'd you get that?" he questioned, looking up, staring straight into my eyes.

Oh god, his eyes are beautiful, they are a lovely golden, green. They always shine so bright.

"The ring or the scar?" I asked quietly.

"Both," he smiled, a real smile, not a smirk, but a smile.

"The ring from my mom when I turned 15 and the scar is from an accident two days after," I smiled back.

He hummed in understanding. Playing with my ring a little more, but dropped my hand when we had the worksheet handed to us.

What the hell was that about?

We were both silent the rest of the period, just working on the class work. The bell rang a few minutes after I had finished my work. I got up and began to pack up my stuff.

"So, where are we going?" Logan asked.

"What do you mean?" I questioned.

"Where are we going, sweetheart? I'm going to walk you to your next class," he chuckled.

"Oh, I have a free period next," I laughed.

"Good, I don't want to be lonely. I got free too, where should we go, love?" he smiled, that breathtaking smile.

"You want to hang out with me?" I said confused.

"Of course I do, Via," he said flirtatiously.

Strange, only Parker calls me that.

"Hmmm, I guess we could go get food or something. I'm starving, I didn't eat breakfast today," I chuckled.

"Food it is!!!" he exclaimed happily, grabbing my hand and dragging me to the parking lot towards a beautiful dark blue, 1975 stepside chevy.

I was too busy gawking at his truck to realize he'd got in.

"Are you coming, sweetheart, or are you just going to keep drooling over my beautiful truck?" he smirked.

I glared at him and got in the passenger's seat.

"You like Baby?" he asked.

"I'm guessing Baby is your truck, so yes," I smiled.

He chuckled and started the truck.

We didn't drive too far, just down the street to Mary's Drive and Dine. It's a popular place for us high school students to hang out at during lunch, free periods and after school. We also have after parties here after football games.

I honestly, rarely go here. I just don't enjoy how crowded it gets. It makes me uncomfortable, but because it was during the free period, the diner was pretty much empty.

I smiled when I realized it wasn't crowded.

Thank gosh!

"Smiling causes you to be happy to be alone with me?" Logan smirked.

"Technically, we're not alone, there's the cooks, the cashier, the waitresses and that couple in the back," I smirked back.

"Is that so, sweetheart? We can always go back to my place to be alone," he said, more serious than I was comfortable with.

"I'm going to regret going with you, aren't I?" I mumbled under my breath and shook my head, causing him to chuckle.

More on Wattpad. Prince Charming is not my Type- adn_kay

#original story #new authors #mystery stories

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occhiolismatic · 6 years

Note

Hi! Can I ask for the second part of the Starker!AU with Peter being fucked by his sexy teacher while people is still around? Thank youuu ❤️ Love your work ❤️

This does continue from my last Teacher/Student starker ;) so anyone reading this should check that out too

Horny and at loss for words, Peter didn’t know what to say,not with Mr. Stark standing there commenting on the bulge between his legs.Despite Mr. Stark’s obvious attention, an entity the boy didn’t know he craved,Peter wanted it to stop. Right then, right there. The smug facial expressionwritten across the older man’s face was too much, chiseled and set; Petercouldn’t handle it. Opting to snatch a physics textbook off the nearest table,the boy’s next move was to cover, to shield the erection in his pants, hisfrail, little hands not good enough to successfully do the job for him, and Mr.Stark just watched, pursing his fine lips just right.

And as if the heat draining to the area surrounding histhighs wasn’t enough, Peter felt as though his cheeks were on fire, faceflushed, flaming with a feverish tendency unlike no other. His pale skin nowthe color of crimson, it definitely didn’t come off as healthy-looking, noteven to Mr. Stark with a PHD under his belt, shamefaced and embarrassed forPeter, empathetic in nature.

“I’m- I just,” Peter stammered, forcing down the rock-hardfeeling gathering in his throat. Mr. Stark only raised his eyebrows, neatlyfolding his hands into the pockets of his slacks.

“Youu?” Mr. Stark followed with a sweet, lethargic hum,stretching his neck in a mocking way, certainly entertained by the predicamentbefore him.

Peter’s shoulders slouched at the teasing. His affectiongrowing stronger by the second, humiliation both sickening and debilitating, Peteralso came to find it attractive, probable cause being the roll of Mr. Stark’sgravelly voice.

“Uh..mm.. I have to go.” Peter forged a fake chuckle, “Idon’t wanna to miss the bus, plus I got a lot of homework to do.. some catchingup for math..”

Mr. Stark slowly perused, leaning forwards and then backagain, “Wouldn’t want to be late for the bus you don’t ride? Right, Mr. Parker?”

Mr. Stark knew the kid well enough to understand he didn’tuse the school’s transportation; rather, the teen walked or took the publictransit, not the crowded, disgusting buses the school deemed inappropriately safefor students. Nails embedding themselves into the hardcover of the textbook,Peter stopped breathing. He then began feeling the weight of a truck pressingdown on his chest, simply at the idea of Mr. Stark actually paying attention tohis schedule, his daily life.

“Y-mm, yeah.” Peter inhaled sharply, eyes searching for hisescape route, a way out of the awkward situation. “Actually, I’m taking the bustoday with my friend, Ned. Going to his house to study for the test next week,and-”

Peter acted as though Mr. Stark didn’t know who Ned was.“Yeah, uh-huh.” Mr. Stark spoke through grinding teeth.

“Yeah,” Peter assured, turning on his heels to walk away,right to the door, the only exit from room 17A. “Yeah, so I’ll just- I’ll seeyou tomorrow.”

Doorknob half-turned in his shaky hand, sweat glisteningover cold, Peter thought he’d be able to walk away, that Mr. Stark wouldn’tstop him from walking out. He was so close, Peter with the door cracked, thehall lights shining into Mr. Stark’s room, glowing onto the tiles, casting ashadow on the floor and around Peter’s sneakers. He thought wrong.

“Mr. Parker,” his teacher called out, unnecessarily loud andoverbearing. He had to get his attention somehow, especially with how hard thehelpless kid had zoned out in his classroom. Feeling light headed and on theverge of fainting, Peter could have sworn his heart skipped, not one, but amyriad of essential beats.

Peter dug around, searching the depths of his throat forsomething, anything to say. “Yes? Mr. Stark?”

“Your textbook.” He trailed after him, dress shoes clackingagainst the floor with each step, each sound inching closer and pushing Peterfurther beyond the edge. “I believe it belongs to me.”

Peter winced. Of course he still had the book, held on witha death-grip, clutching like it was going to save him. “Oh,” he looked downbetween his fingers. “Right.”

Mr. Stark approached, ominous and tall over the poor kid,thick hands reaching out to take the book from him. “I-I’m sorry,” Peterapologized, handing it over in one fell lunge. Mr. Stark, holding onto theopposite edge of the book, looked Peter in his puppy dog eyes up close for thefirst time, head cocked to the side, smirk never ceasing, and Peter stoodblinded, fingers still attached to the knowledge between his hands, attacked,vulnerable. Hues almond and brown, stimuli involuntarily tracking his teacher’severy move, each breath, picking up on his own reflection in the vast valley ofMr. Stark’s intoxicating eyes, he didn’t.even. blink.

“Mr. Parker-” Mr. Stark broke through Peter’s mentalblockade, sounding awfully similar to the situation moments ago.

“Oh! Right.” He let go of the book, tongue darting tonervously lick across his lips. With the door still cracked open, a smudge ofthe outside world sneaking in, Peter didn’t know what to do. Well, he sure ashell knew what he wanted to do, butnot what he should or what would be acceptable to do.

“Are you positive you’d like to study with Ned? With good grades,I’m sure he’s a great friend of yours, quiet in class, just like you.” Peter could have sworn he blinked five times overthe slowness of Mr. Stark’s statements, sticking himself right to the wordsabout himself. “However, if you’d like,” Mr. Stark craned his voice an octavelower, perhaps purposely leaning a bit further over Peter. “I’d love to helpyou study.”

Peter backed into the wall, closing the door in the process.He swallowed, and as much as he’d like to act as if he weren’t turned on, he couldn’t,not with all the signs showing: the sweat dampening his hair, the shakiness inhis voice, the inability to wrap his head around words, little dick begging foradditional treatment.

Mr. Stark leaned, a palm flat above his student’s head, facejust inches from Peter’s with his beautiful, wandering eyes and jaw hangingslack. “Speak now or forever hold your peace,” he chimed in a whisper,radiating nothing but cockiness. He knew what he was doing to the kid, andPeter knew he knew.

It was wrong, but with Mr. Stark standing right there, soclose, lips the tiniest gap apart, no one had to know. No one had to know abouthow Peter dug his hands into his own teacher’s shirt, pulling at the Italianlinen, wrinkling the once-ironed fabric into a fist. No one had to know how thekid yanked his teacher, his mentor forward, pressing his baby soft lips intothe other’s, or how he closed his eyes, clenched out of fear because he knewmore than anything how wrong it was… but it felt so good. He wanted it.

He half expected Mr. Stark to push him away, pry the kid’smouth from his and send him from the classroom, heartbroken, body untouched. Ifanything, that’s what Mr. Stark should’ve done, he should’ve kicked Peter out,gone to administration about the contact, filed a report. He didn’t.

Slamming his student against the door, free hand flying toPeter’s left hip, Mr. Stark wanted it just as much as Peter did. He hadwatched, he had waited. He knew about Peter’s fantasies, stared from across theroom equally as much, and with his mouth pushing back on Peter’s, he wasbreaking so many rules. Shocked, Peter clamped his eyes down harder, completelytaken aback by the force of Mr. Stark’s strong hands, and it took a second forhim to process this was happening, that Mr. Stark was kissing him, and once thesin clicked, Peter couldn’t stop. Pleading for more with a baby whine, Mr.Stark understood, and without hesitation his tongue was sliding past Peter’spink lips, colliding with Peter’s own, exploring the wet heat of his mouth,grazing every crevasse, sliding across teeth, and Peter pushed back, tighteninghis grip on Mr. Stark’s collar as a breathless moan crawled up his throat.

Really, Peter had forgotten to breathe, but lucky for himMr. Stark was breaking away, releasing Peter’s mouth to nuzzle his face intothe crook of the boy’s neck where he proceeded to suckle on sweet patches ofskin, darkening them with bruises and roughly marking his student all over.That’s when Peter gasped, arching his back away from the door, right into Mr.Stark’s chest with a heave, and the man forced him back down, rammed himagainst the flat surface of the wall, only to release another brief whimperpreviously lost in the boy’s lungs.

“Mr. Stark-” he whispered, not because he didn’t know whatto say, but because he simply couldn’t speak, at least not with the sensationof the other male swirling a warm tongue across his throat. In a moment Mr.Stark had the kid lifted, fixed against the door with his hands holding the boyup, and Peter responded the only way he wanted to – by wrapping his legs aroundhis teacher’s torso, leaning down to roughly kiss him, hands tangled around hisneck as he panted into the other’s mouth, dick imprint brushing the man’s chest.

“Mr. Stark-” he repeated in between breaths, and Mr. Starkhummed in affirmation. Unsure if manners still mattered, if please and thankyou were necessary, Peter choked, “I want you to fuck me. Please, sir.”

The last hitched word fueling the pain beneath his slacks,Mr. Stark chucked lowly, “Sitting in the back of my classroom, never getting a word out of you, Ithought you’d never ask.”

Dropping his student to the ground, the boy’s sneakersscuffing the polished floor, Peter turned away from Mr. Stark’s body, alreadyundoing his pants, letting them fall to his knees while the older of the twosimply lowered the zipper above his erection, pulling a throbbing cock frombeneath the fabric, to begin admiring how nice, how pretty, Peter was frombehind.

The kid dragged himself down, backing up into Mr. Stark, alreadysoaked between the legs, loose and ready. He didn’t want stretching. He onlywanted Mr. Stark’s cock buried in his ass, the perfect study session. He wanted Mr. Stark to be his teacher that also spits in his mouth. “Please,sir-” He wasn’t loose enough.

He wailed a high-pitched groan, disgruntled and pained asMr. Stark pressed into his body, forcing the strained kid to buck forward witheach inch penetrating his hole, but Peter wanted it. He wanted the pain, thepleasure, he wanted Mr. Stark.

“No more distractions in my class, right Mr. Parker? Because now you’re getting what you wanted, agood fucking?” He swayed towards Peter’s ear.

Was Peter supposed to lie? He winced but reached behind himto prevent his teacher from pulling out. Sensing the hesitation in his answer,Mr. Stark grabbed ahold of the boy’s wrists, keeping them together on the smallof the kid’s back, “Answer me, boy.”

“Y-yes-” Peter sighed, mouth easily forming an O shape.

“Yes?” Mr. Stark sinisterly twisted Peter’s wrists.

“Yes..” a grimace, “ Yessir-” Peter corrected, slurred,shirt falling with gravity to display endless miles of porcelain skin.

Kissing the boy’s ear, he smiled hotly, “Good boy.”

Peter really only adjusted to taking Mr. Stark to the hiltwhen all hell broke loose. Between the sounds of skin slapping skin andinnocent, angelic whimpers mixed with raspy, low, teething groans, came thesound of a knock on wood – someone wason the other side of the door. Panicking, Peter angled his face to stare Mr.Stark in the eye with reddened cheeks, patiently awaiting the adult’s next move,yet when he didn’t stop, when the thrusts into Peter’s contracting body keptcoming, the worry in Peter’s bloodstream boiled over.

“Answer it,” Mr. Stark demanded.

Dizzy, Peter didn’t believe him, and Mr. Stark didn’tappreciate that: “Don’t make me repeat myself, I guarantee you won’t like it.” Gulping,Peter had to listen. He had to obey, he needed to be a god boy, a good studentfor his teacher. “No one likes a disrespectful student, Peter. So be a good little darling and answer the kind person atthe door.”

Steadying himself by gripping onto the door frame, Peter straightenedhis back a little and inhaled, taking a deep breath, before slowly opening thedoor, peeking his head around just enough to see who was on the other side. It wasa man, a teacher whom of which Peter knew all too well. It was Mr. Rogers, thehistory teacher, come to see and talk to Mr. Stark.

“Uhh- Hey Peter, is Mr. Stark there? Needa have a word withhim.”

“Mr. Rogers-” Peter found it hard to formulate words. “Hey!”

Mr. Stark held onto the kid’s hips, hungrily gazing at thedimples planted on his lower back, ultimately putting in the work to pound intothe boy, sloppily and wet, so that Peter’s body didn’t move too much. Afterall, he couldn’t get caught fucking his student. He thumbed circles over Peter’spelvic bones, closing the space above the other’s back by leaning forward,resting carefree over the curve of the boy’s ass, massaging and grabbing at anyskin he got the chance.

“So is that a no?”

“Oh!” Peter nearly screeched, internally crying over thehefty cock bumping into his prostate. “Mr. Stark’s busy in the back lab rightnow,” he paused to catch his breath, “Can you come back later?”

Rubbing his chin, the other teacher looked to his wristwatch,checking the time. “Mmm, not sure, kid. I really gotta speak with him now.” Heeyed Peter, “Hey, are you alright? You look a little.. distraught.”

As if on cue Mr. Stark began picking up the pace, ramminginto the iconic, sensitive bundle of nerves packed away in Peter’s body, makingPeter sob and push further into the doorway.

“Y-yeah! I’m- I- I’m fine.” Eyes beginning to roll, hopingit would prevent him from slipping into a heap of moans, Peter attempted to focuson the pattern of the man’s shirt. “I’m good- I’m so good-”

“Are you sure? You seem pained.”

“Yes!” Peter squinted. “I uhh… I got hurt! Yeah-”

Stepping forward as if to enter, Peter’s eyes widened, “No!You can’t come in-” Peter could hear and feel Mr. Stark’s breathing in his ear.

Mr. Rogers scratched the back of his head, “You’re hurt,Peter, I can help you.”

“Nonono-” Peter exhaled loudly, feeling Mr. Stark reacharound to pump his little cocklet. “Mr. Stark’s actually getting the first aidkit right- right now.”

“In the lab? I can take you to the clinic if you-”

“No!” Peter whined, “I’m- I’m so good-” It feels so good. “It’s in the clinic- Mr. Stark- I mean- It’s… It’sin the lab.. the kit… Mr. Stark’s getting it.. that’s why he’s gone-”

Mr. Stark’s colleague obviously wasn’t being fooled. Witheyebrows drawn and face tainted with confusion, things just weren’t adding up, “WellI’ll just come in and wait for him then-”

Squeezing and spreading the boy’s legs, Peter knew Mr. Stark wasclose, edging, slipping in and out of Peter’s abused hole, and Peter himselfwas dying for his release, spilling precum onto his teacher’s fast hand.

“Uuuah- actually, here he comes now, I’ll tell him you neededhim-” he gasped, thankful the door hadn’t given out on his bodyweight yet. Mr.Stark grinded down on him, sucking the area just below his neck, giant fingersscratching the boy’s soft sides while he practically held the kid off theground by raised hips. If the older man hadn’t been holding onto Peter hard enoughto leave indents, the poor kid might’ve fallen to the floor. “I-I gotta go-”And with that he slammed the door shut, right in his history teacher’s face.

#starker #peter parker #tony stark #peter x tony #tony x peter #peter parker x tony stark #tony stark x peter parker #mmmm this is shitty but they are not #I hope this was good enough to satisfy someone

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marcoacesabo · 6 years

Text

Music Notes

For @ask-shy-sabo who has been having a hard week and I hope some good old SaboAce may cheer them up. It’s under a read more cause it kinda got away from me. Hope you like!

Sabo speed walked down the stairs. He didn’t have a lot of time before his next class started, in fact, he only had about ten minutes left and it was on the top floor not the lower level ones but he couldn’t just not make this small detour. He reaches the bottom of the staircase, wrinkling his nose at the loud laughter of a group of teenagers, while two males throw a ball back and forth.

Honestly, this is a college and even though the teens were part of the dual credit program with the local high school you would think they have a little more respect. Not only do they completely block the hallway they start throwing taunts at him as soon as they seem him.

Sabo easily sidesteps the multiple bags on the floor, not breaking his pace for one second. It’s easier to ignore the jeers about his scars now, much more so then when they were fresh.

Their mocking laughter echoes after him, but he barely even notices. He’s not here for them, can hardly care if they stick around or not. He rounds the corner, then goes the long hallway with scattered doors every so often. He passes by them without a second glance, eyestrain on the one at the far back on his right.

During the week these classrooms are never used, only during the weekend and for that reason, they are usually emptied nearly abandoned. Sabo had actually found the hallway on his first day of college, hopelessly lost when trying to find a room as the numbers on his schedules had been misprinted.

That day had been terrifying since there had barely been any sign of life, what with the lack of people or noise, but now it’s a sort of sanctuary for the young man. A cave in which his treasure resided.

It’s not long before the noises of campus start to disappear, and even the rowdy teenagers’ voices fade completely, being replaced with soft little piano notes that brought a smile to his face like the sun breaking through clouds. The more steps he took the louder the music became and when he finally arrives at the door, he can hear the piano perfectly.

Sabo stops just shy of it, closing his eyes as the music embraces him, wrapping him in a bubble of calm and warmth. The melody is soft, light and angelic, rising and falling in a way that would make angles desperate to sing along.

Then it changes, midway to fast, heavy and melancholy, painting an image of darkness in his mind but one of beauty as well. And that’s how it goes. The music travels between tempo, rhythm, and emotion while Sabo rides along the sound wave, heart pounding in his chest in tune with it.

Leaning against the wall Sabo breaths deeply allowing the music to take him.

Suddenly it’s like he is no longer in a city, under heavy expectations large responsibilities and consistent worries that weight him down nightly and daily. He is instead in a green forest running in time with the music, rising when it does, falling when it drops and living in its magic as he jumps over bushes and runs through tree arch.

Sabo feels like he can be wild, light and free when he hears the song, leading him further and further into the most beautiful forest he’s ever seen, ever known was possible. Unhooked to anything or anyone, able to live his life as he wishes, almost like he can fly.

The music pumps through his veins and rests in his bones feeling him with life and energy like nothing can ever hope to accomplish.

He can’t name any of the songs the pianist plays despite his parents’ love of classical music- some of the pieces sound an awful lot familiar- but he can appreciate them for what they are. He’s never seen the artist themselves, had only just recently been able to find the room- as the noise tends to travel upwards into the classes above where he has biology.

For nearly three months Sabo had distantly heard the soft music when he arrived early for class, but as soon as his classmates and teacher arrived it was lost in the chatter. He never really paid it much mind, assuming it was a class close by that played it.

One day when the teacher had canceled classes curiosity lead to him seeking out the source of the pleasant noise he often heard. Following his ears to the middle of the hallway, he logically concluded it was coming from downstairs- an area he rarely visited despite being well into his second year of education.

At first, the teenager group had almost made him turn around but when he followed the hallway hoping for a second pair of stairs he was able to find the room.

It was one thing to barely make out the noise, and another to stand in a place where he could truly experience the beauty of a piano.

Ever since that day, Sabo had made a habit of coming down to hear the gifted pianist his heart and mind-calming with each visit. There was just something wonderful about the music, the emotions he could hear woven into each note with the skill of a master and the tender love of a creator.

With no window in either the wall or door, he has never gotten so much as a glimpse of the pianist, unaware of anything about them but adores them all the same. Anyone that could make him so happy like this must be incredible.

The song ends fading into nothing, and Sabo opens his eyes. He glances at his phone, grimacing at the time. It was only a few songs, about nine minutes or so, but his time had run out.

Reluctantly, he steps away from the door even as a new song tries to draw him back. The further he goes the more the song starts to fade until the noise of campus return replacing the piano notes He leaves the hallway humming what he could remember of the songs under his breath heart feeling light and stomach turning.

He passes by the youths again but luckily they seem so engrossed in their conversations they don’t notice him. It’s a small blessing he basks in as he travels upward.

He’s told no one of the little room, with the mysterious pianist. It’s his own secret something only he can enjoy. Maybe it’s selfish but for once Sabo wants to take something for himself, something that can make his dull life seem worthwhile.

He breaks onto the second floor walking quickly to class. A smile he tries to fight stubbornly rest on his lips, and he can’t wait to go back again tomorrow.

He doesn’t want to share, not after he identifies the odd emotion that music and person inspire in him. Was it possible to fall in love with sound alone?

“Hey, Sabo!” Ace calls a boyish grin on his lips.

The blond looks up from where he is reading some papers, smiling back at his student. “Hello, Ace. How are you?”

The other man dumps his backpack and eagerly pulls out some papers from it. He thrusts them into Sabo's face all but shouting with bright silver eyes “I got A-on my math test!”

He leans back still not used to Ace’s ability to break into personal bubbles like they are nothing, eyes focusing on the words. Sabo takes the paper, eyes fix on the work scrambled in the margins of the paper. He can see where Ace did wrong in some of the work and mentally makes a note to work on fixing that as soon as possible.

But all in all, it’s proof of their improvement.

“Good Job Ace! I knew you could do it.” he praises flipping through the papers before peering back up at him.

The other man attempts to look bashful but his pleasure at his work is too obvious. “It’s all because of you Sabo. You’re the best math teacher I ever have!”

“Ever had” He corrects gently still smiling. Ace nods accepting the correction easily far used to it. Sabo has always made it point to never sound put upon when doing so because he never wants to shame Ace and he thinks his student gets that.

“I talked to my English teacher like you said to, and guess what? She said I can make up the research essay!” Ace continues pulling out a notebook, with some papers stuffed into it. He selects the one on the top, placing it on the table with a soft tap. “I’m supposed to select an author and write about their effect on the society they live in. Can we work on that today?”

Sabo dips his head in acknowledgment while writing down Research Paper 3 on his yellow pad that he had previously set up waiting for Ace. He is pleased to see Ace mirror him in his own notebook.

“Do you know which author you want to write about?”

“What?”

“Do you know who you want to write about?”

“...what?”

“Do you-”

“Oh yeah! I know!” Ace’s cheeks turn a bit pink as he admits hesitantly. “Do you remember when you said Charles Dickins didn’t like the prejudice of the lowest class by the upper class so he wrote the Chrismas Carrol? I kinda want to write about how his stories affected the lower class but presenting what their lives were like truthfully and his effect on poverty. Is that a good idea?”

Sabo smiles brightly “That’s a great idea Ace. It’s interesting and entirely possible because of all of Dickens works usually involved poverty.”

His student turns even pinker but a please smile pulls at his lips. Writing down their topic down, Sabo gestures at the computers surrounding them “Now that we have a topic, let’s see what we can pull up in the library database for some research.”

When they finish Sabo is quite pleased with their progress.

They were able to find credible sources and had selected three main arguments for Ace’s paper. Not only that but Ace was also able to find pieces that helped make his argument more authentic. The paper would be a strong one.

“A concert?” Sabo knows he shouldn’t sound so shock as it was rude but he wasn't expecting the other to just thrust a ticket into his face with a stammered invitation.

“Y-yeah. It’s not a big deal, but it’s my first one and I thought you might like to come. It’s this Saturday.” Ace says redder than before and nervous as hell. “You don’t have to go, but it’s this Saturday and I play. It’s my first dress- ugh concert.”

Ace pronounce the word slowly, like his tasting it. A habit Sabo has noticed he does when he confuses his words. He doesn’t know much about Ace’s past experience regarding his disorder but he does know how people tend to react to disabilities and it breaks his heart a little for Ace.

While most get annoyed having to repeat themselves Sabo doesn’t care and is patient enough to wait for the raven’s mind to catch up to the meaning of his sentence.

He’s been tutoring Ace for a few weeks now, having been assigned to him after getting his certification in special needs education alongside his already existing tutoring certification.

Tutoring was how he paid his bills and he honestly loved it.

It’s been his job ever since his second month of college, taking up students in varies areas on varies days. Ace he saw two times a week for two hours, and despite not speaking outside of the tutoring sessions, considered him a friend of sorts.

His only friend at the college honestly.

Sabo’s life consisted of mostly school and work, a dull never-ending waking, leaving for class, meeting a student in between break, going back to class, another student, lunch, class, and two more students before heading home only to repeat the process the next day.

On weekends he did nothing but stay home and do homework. Ocassaully breaking out of that to do errands.

To tell the truth, Sabo was a bit lonely. The majority of this was his own fault, seeing as he never attempted to speak to his classmates. He arrived long enough for the class to start then left as soon as the lecture was over.

Oh, how he missed Koala and Hack, but even though they messaged each other almost ever another day, neither lived close to him to be able to meet up and catch up on life after high school. Somedays it even felt like they were drifting apart which hurt him dearly.

Nowadays the only thing that didn’t feel like a force routine was his brief pleasure breaks by the music room in the far lower level of the main corner buildings.

But here, was Ace asking him to do something fun! Him! He was finally going to do something on the weekend!

Smiling brightly Sabo accepted the ticket “I love to go Ace!”

The utter joy on that freckled face kinda made him feel like he was listening to his mysterious pianist again but Sabo squishes it down. He knew that Ace was very attractive, with a personality that was downright adorable but his heart belongs to someone else.

Someone, he’s never meet...yet. But someday he will muster up the courage to knock on that door and confess. Someday.

He shouldn’t have expected it to be a rock concert.

Well, Ace did like to listen to rock music while they work and he did tend to dress like any typical rocker, Sabo shouldn’t have just assumed his concert was that kind.

But he did, thinking that since they share a love of punk music he could dress up as one and pass off as rock in the crowd. He followed Koala’s advice, slapping on some ripped black jeans, a navy blue muscular shirt with a sneering skull printed on it and a leather jacket was thrown over.

He had forgone the eyeliner, seeing as he had fallen asleep on his couch out of habit-seeing as he did that during Saturdays- and had run late.

Thank the Stars’ for that, seeing as Sabo was surrounded by people in suits and ballroom dresses. The security almost didn’t want to even want to let him in after taking a look at his outfit, he can’t imagine how really dark eyeliner would have gone down.

Ace’s concert was in a fancy concert hall, his front row seat ticket suddenly feeling it was a lot more than a thirty dollar admission he originally thought it was. Especially when he caught a glimpse of the prices in the lobby.

They had escorted him to his chair, the workers still baffled by “his type” being at this kind of place.

Honestly, Sabo thought he was in the wrong building twice but no matter how many times he checked the printing on the ticket, the words didn’t change. He was in fact supposed to go to the fanciest concert hall in the city, where they sometimes held operas.

Why didn’t Ace warn him!?

Sabo sinks in his chair as more people whisper about the “delinquent” in the front. If it wasn’t for the promise to Ace about him being here he would have gone home.

His scars already attracted negative attention, his outfit just feels making like his downright an intruder to a certain atmosphere. Plus this place was uncomfortably close to his old life before he cut out his parents. It didn’t bring back good memories.

The lights dimmed then and Sabo breath in relief as he was hidden. All eyes turn to the stage where a man welcome and introduce the program to them, highlighting the main musician of the evening Portgas D Ace.

Sabo sat up straighter, clapping along with the crowd as the red curtain rose. His eyes widen when a beautiful grand piano is revealed underneath a spotlight. Ace makes his way from the edge of the stage, dressed in perfectly tailor three piece white suit. He bows before the crowds, his silver eyes seeking Sabo’s in a second before a brief bight smile appears on his face.

He steps up the mic address the audience with a short “This is a personal piece I wrote. I hope it reaches the person I want it to reach. Enjoy”

The crowd gives him a polite round of applause as he sits down. There is a small pause, where Sabo swears he can hear someone drop a pen, aisles back before his hands start to fly over the keys.

It’s...gorgeous.

the music is Hopeful. Excited. Aweing. Dramatic. Overwhelming. Caring. Wary. Humbling. Bashful. Glouting. Uplifting.

It was like trying to describe colors, trying to describe emotions, rising and falling in smooth gentle tones. The tempo was suck between slow and hard, shifting to fast and smooth at certain parts reminding the memorize Sabo of a river.

He couldn’t look away at the beauty Ace was, his eyes stole in concertation, hair shifting about as he glided his hands over keys. It was odd, his music was gentle and calm as a river but the way his body moved reminded the blond of a tsunami.

This performance was breathtaking.

Suddenly it was like no one besides those two was there, with Ace leading Sabo through the world. Taking him to snowed mountains, colorful seas, large forest, grassy valleys, and the limitless sky above. He loved every second it, lost in time, in the small universes Ace had created.

So lost was he, that when the song ended Sabo actually jumped when the crowd cheers. Their loud applause brings the blond back into the world, and he can hardly believe it was only a six-minute song.

Ace get’s ready for his next song but he glances in Sabo’s direction almost nervously. Sabo is touch, red in the face and heart soaring. He knew this sound, this specific music notes that he often dreamed about when leaving a certain hallway.

And they had just played a confession of love disguised as a song. A confession that he thinks was meant for him, based by the slight hand wave Ace gives him.

It’s both wonderful and an agony to sit through the whole concert, but afterward, he gets his revenge by kissing the star right on the lips. Sabo is pleased that Ace’s kissing skills are just as world building as his piano skills.

Sabo plans on exploring every mountain, sea, forest, valley and sky for the rest of his life if Ace will have him.

#SaboAce #Music Notes Au #for a friend #Fluff #Mordern AU #Ace has a slight word processing disorder #He was in love with Sabo the moment he spoke to him #Sabo fell inlove through song #((I hope you like this!))#a gift for a friend #((OMG IT WAY TOO LONG SORRY)

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