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itoshiexx · 1 month

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running your fingers through their hair

you are now reading... LENA'S 1K MILESTONE EVENT FIC!

↳ itoshi rin, michael kaiser, reo mikage (separate) + cafuné (n.) - running your fingers through the hair of someone you love

notes: omg hi guys! i'm freaking ALIVE!!! i know i've been terribly inactive but life as a recently graduated lawyer has been INSANE and i barely have time to breathe, let alone write. regardless, i was able to finish this after some struggle, and i really hope you guys like it! cafuné is a brazilian word and it's something i love very much, so thank you anon, @kyukiss and @etoiile for the request and sorry it took so long ♥

event masterlist

Itoshi Rin

“you remind me of a dog, you know?”

rin’s eyes shoot open with your unexpected words, and you receive the harshest glare you’ve ever witnessed on his face when it came to you.

“excuse me?”

his tone is supposed to be threatening, but his voice is slightly laced with sleep, so it sounds a lot more like a whine. you snort a little bit, pausing your ministrations on his head, where your fingers run through his hair.

“not in a bad way, baby. i just mean you’re like a puppy when you want my attention,” you giggled a little, and if rin didn’t love the sound so much, he would have berated you.

“that’s absolutely not true.”

“it is, though. you came back from practice all tired and grumpy, and the first thing you did was put your head on my lap because you wanted me to run my fingers through your hair. you didn’t even showered, rin.”

“i did shower! on the locker rooms!”

you smile mischievously. “oh, i thought the dampness was from sweat. i was about to call you out for being stinky.”

rin’s grimace worsened, and a pout formed on his lips. you couldn’t resist the urge to squish his cute cheeks together. god, he was so adorable it tugged on your heartstrings. how was that even possible?

you lowered your head to give him a quick kiss, and although rin tried to deepen it, you pulled away fast, grinning once again. he knew what was coming even before you said it. “you’re also like a puppy when you trail after me around the house. a lost puppy.”

his groan reverberated through the whole apartment, and rin shoved your hands away from his face, scowling. “i fucking hate you.”

“no, you don’t.”

“i hate you. i’m serious.”

you giggled again. “so why didn’t you leave my lap then?”

his eyes met yours, and you kind of relished in the furrow of his brows. it made his pout even cuter. “…what.”

smugness radiated off of you, because you knew rin — your rin — like the back of your hand. and if there was an universal truth in the world, it would be that the younger itoshi was down bad for you. enough for him to stay despite your shenanigans that always got on his nerves.

“i said, if you hate me, then why didn’t you leave my lap?”

his mouth opened, but no retort came out. he gaped like a fish for a few seconds before groaning again, turning his body so that he could hide his face on your stomach. you laughed at his childish behavior, knowing it was one of the reasons you loved him so much. not many people were able to see this vulnerable side of him, and you were glad to be one of them.

“shut up.”

“yeah, yeah. you big baby.”

comfortable silence engulfed the both of you, and rin remained hidden on your stomach as you picked up the book you were previously reading, wanting to continue the story. though your left hand was suddenly tugged to lay on your boyfriend’s head.

“keep going,” he murmured, “…please?”

a gentle smile took over your features, and you were quick to run your fingers through his dark, silky strands. rin sighed softly, content with the affection you gave him — as if your angelic hands could take away every doubt swirling on his mind and wipe off the tiredness from his sore body.

“of course,” you said. and your mind completed silently: i’d keep going forever if it made you happy.

perhaps you were down bad, too.

Michael Kaiser

contrary to popular belief, michael kaiser was not a bad boyfriend.

despite his huge ego, his narcissistic tendencies and his extravagant yet somehow rude personality, he wasn’t the type of guy to treat his partner poorly. in fact, he was a very attentive boyfriend, always doing his best to make sure you were happy and healthy.

or maybe it was just you. who knows.

whatever his reasons were, you relished the fact he took such good care of you, even if he wasn’t physically present because of away games — because michael was very good at making people notice him. whether it was with a bouquet of your favorite flowers delivered to your job, a nice breakfast cooked before you woke or even a small note of love professions.

however, nothing really compared to having him there, with you, flesh and bone.

especially on those days you just felt so miserable you wanted to disappear.

“liebling? you okay?”

it was one of kaiser’s rare day offs, and all you wished for was to spend some much needed quality time with your boyfriend. though, this wasn’t possible due to your job, one you liked having despite michael saying he could support the both of you financially.

but the day at work just sucked. like, a lot. it was that kind of day where things go from bad to worse in a matter of minutes, and when you swear it can’t get shittier, it does.

you were exhausted and emotionally drained. the whole drive back to your shared apartment you were holding back tears, and the dam broke the second you heard kaiser asking you that.

“whoa!” the blonde exclaimed when your bodies collided on a tight hug. “what is it, engel? what happened? did someone hurt you?”

his worried tone just made you sob harder, and kaiser rubbed his hands on your back, trying to give you some comfort. he started to sway your bodies together while humming, doing everything to calm you down.

eventually, your sobs died down, and your boyfriend carefully brought you to the couch, making you lay on top of him; head on his chest. he started to gently scratch your scalp, running his long fingers through your hair.

“you feeling any better?” he asked in a low tone.

“yeah. thank you, mikka.”

the blond only hummed. “do you… want to talk about it?”

you had to stifle a giggle. god, he was so cute. even when he sucked at talking about feelings, he always made an effort for you.

you slowly shook your head. “jus’ had a really bad day. but it’s okay now.”

his eyes softened impossibly, and you nearly swooned at the sight. “yeah?”

michael kissed your forehead, and kept threading his fingers among your locks in a gentle caress. you smiled, because it was all you really needed to be comforted.

“yeah.”

Mikage Reo

reo’s body collapsed on top of yours, effectively knocking the air out of your lungs. you should have been used to it by now, really, since he’d always do that after you finished your smexy times, but sometimes it still caught you off guard.

“reo, you’re heavy,” you groaned, teasing him. “get off me!”

“give a guy a break, will you?” he whined. “i’m tired.”

your giggle reverberated through his body, and reo repositioned himself to lay his head on your chest, hugging your waist tightly as if to never let you go. he’d rather lose all his fortune before he let that happen.

“is mr. athlete getting out of shape? i didn’t know this light exercise could make you so…”

your boyfriend interrupted you with a groan. “babe!”

you raised your hands in mock surrender, giggling again, and reo thought maybe he didn’t really care about your teasing if it meant seeing you this happy. he loved you in all your versions, but carefree was his favorite one.

“sorry, baby. i’ll make it up to you, yeah?”

before he could make a suggestive joke, his breath hitched in his throat when your soft hands started caressing his hair, gentle fingers threading through his purple locks making him sigh. it was so unfair, he thought, how you managed to disarm him with just a small touch, reduce him to putty in your palms with a little gesture of affection. some of his friends said he was a fool in love, and reo couldn’t agree more.

your love made him silly, but he didn’t hate it. he could never hate anything about you. all mikage reo was able to feel was love, love, love, an emotion so strong it nearly overwhelmed all of his senses, making him forget about all his worries and responsibilities — heck, even the whole world. and he didn’t mind if the world burned as long as he could keep you safe and away from the flames.

“what are you thinking about?” the whisper of your voice echoed the walls of your shared bedroom.

“what makes you think i’m thinking about something?”

though reo couldn’t see you, he knew you rolled your eyes.

“it’s usually how the human mind works, honey,” you answered, your wit making him stifle a laugh. “besides, you’re always so chatty, talking my ear off—”

“hey!”

“—so it always concerns me when you get quiet.”

the heir sighed, letting the silence linger a little longer to recollect his thoughts. reo usually didn’t have a hard time expressing himself with words, but sometimes his heart swelled so much it made it hard to think. so, pretty much every time he was with you.

“it’s just… i’m thinking about how i never really believed in past lives and reincarnation. i never really believed in soulmates, either,” he said, and you paid attention to every word. mesmerized by the wonder in his voice and even more by the sparkle in his purple eyes when he averted his gaze to yours.

“but when i think about you, love… when i see you in my arms or when i rest in yours, i’m sure you are my soulmate, and that we were together in every lifetime. it’s always been you. it will always be.”

your chest swelled with love for the man laying in your embrace, and you tried to hold back the tears from falling. god, he was everything. you didn’t even know what you did to deserve a lover like mikage reo, but you were far from complaining.

you gave him a chaste kiss on the forehead, trying to convey even a fraction of the love and adoration you held for him, and looked back to caress his face. then, smiling with the world in your eyes, you answered:

“it’s always been you, too.”

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heartpiratedrabbles · 4 months

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Drunken Mistakes

Prompt: You get too drunk one night and embarrass yourself in front of your captain.

Part 2

Trafalgar Law X Fem Reader

“Oh come on y/n!! We’re finally on land! Lets go have some fun,” Ikkaku begged you. She noticed you taking pajamas out of your locker over something to wear out.

“You know I don’t party,” You say over your shoulder, unzipping your jumpsuit. As the only 2 women on board, you two shared a rather large room, you even had full-size beds over the twin bunk beds the men shared in their rooms, which housed 4 people to a room. Law was nice enough to provide everyone with their own personal desk and locker.

Ikkaku placed a hand on her hip, “That’s the point! You’re not going to party but you can watch me to make sure I don’t do anything stupid” She was eager to get of the submarine, it had been a month since they had last been on land, and Captain said they’d be staying for a week or two as everyone was getting a little ship madness stuck inside. “Come on! Please?” She walked up beside you and started rummaging through your clothes before pulling out a rather revealing romper.

She wiggled it in front of you before you sighed, “Alright, but I’m only watching your sorry ass from the side lines. We can’t have you getting lost now.” You grab the romper and think about how even when you have time to wear anything, you still choose clothes that are like the crews jumpsuit.

~~~

The island was fun, there was an entire street full of bars to choose from, each just as rowdy, loud, and addictive as the last. Ikkaku finally decided on one and you couldn’t help but wonder if she pre-planned this when she squeals and runs up to the two familiar faces of Penguin and Shachi.

“Heyyyy You got Y/N out of your guys room, How’d you manage that?” Penguin happily yelled as you sat down across from them.

Shachi and Penguin gave each other a look before getting their notorious smiles, this could only mean one thing. And absolutely awful idea that they’d be insistent on. Before you could retreat from the crew's pranksters they flank either side of you, place their hands on your shoulders, making sure you stay sitting. “Y/N why don’t you relax a little bit,” Shachi said putting an empty mug in front of you.

“Yea, come on Y/N you haven’t let loose in a longgg time,” Penguin grinned as he poured some liquor into the glass. It had been a couple of months since you drank last, but you also got absolutely shit-faced that last time and can’t remember much of the night other than Bepo having to carry you back to the ship and Ikkaku holding your hair up as you puked.

“You know I’m on watch tomorrow morning, I can’t drink tonight,” You thought up an excuse as quick as they had started their shenanigans.

“But Y/N… It’s Jean Bart's turn to watch tomorrow, you’re on duty in 3 days,” Ikkaku blurted out, remembering the schedule I had hung in our room, she had a wicked smile on her.

“You guys planned this didn’t you,” You sigh as you relent a little bit, taking hold of the glass in front of you and you can hear Penguin let out a small giggle, he had been drunk before you even walked in. “No more than 4 drinks. A round per person,” You chug the liquid in the mug as the three cheer around you, accomplishing their mission.

~~~

You hadn’t realized how tense you’d been lately until the liquid forced you to relax. After the 4th round, Shachi had suggested going to a different bar, one with a much better selection of booze and you decided to continue drinking.

“Y/N you’ve been working so hard recently, we’re glad you’re finally relaxing a bit,” Penguin murmured from where his head had rested on his arm still holding a glass half drunk. You giggle a bit at the display before taking the glass and finishing the rum, Shachi was still quite Sober compared to either you and Penguin, and Ikkaku was still off grabbing another round for the table.

You leaned forward on the table, your cleavage becoming all the more evident, “Well Sachi! I think you should take a penalty drink!” You Grin at him, you’d never been able to pronounce his name correctly once you started drinking.

“Oh? And what, Pray-tell, is this penalty for?!” He laughed out also leaning in, never one to back down from a battle.

“You, my good sir,” You pointed towards his chest, “Are still wearing the jumpsuit,” Slurring half the words as Ikkaku sits back down with a tray of drinks.

“You heard the boss, Penalty drink for still wearing uniform,” Ikkaku smiled out handing Shachi a shot glass of god knows what. He sighed defeat and took a shot, “But Y/N that means you need a penalty drink for not covering up your tattoos.”

You look down and around yourself, realizing the romper was just straps and showed off the tattoos on your shoulders and gave a small peak to the larger one on your back, “Thas not fair!” You pouted before grabbing the shot and pounding it back.

~~~

All four of you had returned rather late, all praying that Hakugan, the watch for the night, wouldn’t tell on you, or even worse, the captain was still awake to scold the four of you. It had been well past 3am and Law had always wanted everyone back on the ship by 1am or for them to sleep in hotels at that point.

None of you thought you’d be out this late and none of you wanted to even try to find a hotel, best to just sneak back into your rooms. After all, once you’re close enough to your rooms, you can claim you were just going to the bathroom.

Shachi was holding up Penguin as you and Ikkaku had been supporting each other, trying to hold back any giggling or words as you climbed onboard. The one thing you were jealous of was how close some of the men’s room were to the top of the ship, Your and Ikkaku’s room were toward the bottom so you had to traverse much further than your two crewmates.

Penguin nodded a goodbye and Shachi barely managed to open the door to their room, thankfully, it had seemed as though their roommates had opted to stay out for the night.

Ikkaku makes eye contact with you and you continue to walk towards your quarters, and you both start to giggle. As you get closer to your room you motion for Ikkaku to continue without you, pointing towards the bathroom as explanation.

She looks at you and gives a thumbs up trying to hold back any noise, The Captains room was just slightly further down the hall and we’d be dead if he caught us. You watch as she retreats into the shared room as you slink towards the bathroom.

As soon as you enter the bathroom your met with a blinding light, no doubt left on by Ikkaku from before you two even left, but as you walk further in, reaching out for where the light switch should be (Opting for darkness over the headache inducing light) You bump into something. Or rather, someone. You stop, your hand on the wall, if you had been more sober you’d know you should have felt the light switch by now if this was the girls Bathroom.

“Y/N-ya.” A dry familiar voice rings into your ears as your eyes snap open, staring at the tattooed chest of your captain. “I see you had a fun night.”

You couldn’t register the emotion in your Captains voice and you couldn’t quite sober yourself up, try as you might. “C-captain!” You blurt out peering up, straightening your back and trying not to let the giggle you feel out. The man in front of you was only wearing a towel, rather low on his hips at that and his hair was damp. After a second of holding your breath to try and maintain a serious demeanor the cold hard stare of your captain makes you burst out laughing a bit, stumbling over your feet, “You’re not suppose to be in here~” You point your finger a bit before tapping his toned chest.

Yep, this must have been a dream, you must have passed out somewhere and this was a fantasy. There’s no way your captain would every allow you to touch his bare chest like this. You place both your hands gingerly on the taller mans shoulders before slowly moving them down, taking in the feeling of the toned chest in front of you, “It feels so real,” You murmur under your breath as your hands venture to the mans hips.

Law inhales sharply at the sudden touch. As your hands venture back up to his chest, tracing the outlines of his tattoos his own hands grab hold of yours, stopping any movement, “Are you having fun, Y/N-ya?” He leans down to whisper into your ear.

The voice sends shivers down your spine and you can feel yourself getting excited. “Well if this is a dream…” You murmer before leaning in, attaching yourself to your captains neck. Not even a second later you felt yourself being shoved into the cold metal wall.

Law had pushed you back while also lifting your legs around him and your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, “I can assure you, Y/N-ya… This is plenty real.” You look up at the captain, registering his words and the slight pain in your head that had barely hit the wall and the sudden realization sobers you up almost immediately. Your eyes widen and you suddenly become hyper aware of the position your in hanging your head to avoid Law’s gaze, “Looks like you’re finally awake.”

#One Piece #trafalagar law #Law X Reader #One Piece X Reader

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its-time-to-write · 6 months

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hello! First thing first, I want to say how much of a good writer you are, I hope you know this 💕 second I have this idea of reader and Jamie dating, but nobody knows. One day reader is in the coaches room and starts yawning and Roy is like what's that 🤨 (something similar to that scene with beard after he gets back with jane) and reader answers with "you have been waking me up everyday at 4 am" or smt like that and this is how everyone finds out. I know you have already written something like this but I thought it was cute, so feel free to ignore

this was cute. you were right.

coffee at midnight

Neither you nor Jamie exactly decided to keep your relationship a secret.

“It’s not a secret, it’s private, babe,” Jamie insists. You just roll your eyes.

But like, it is private.

That means no instagram posts, no public dates, and no unasked opinions. It also means that Jamie gets a Polaroid camera (“so we don’t get hacked, babe,”), plans dates in his giant house, and keeps fans’ noses out of your relationship.

It also, also means that Roy Kent doesn’t know you’re in Jamie’s bed every morning when he knocks on the door loud enough to wake the dead.

You’re a week into these shenanigans, and you’re not sure how much longer you can handle it. You’ve barely been at Nelson Road for an hour, but you’ve yawned more than you’ve spoken. Jamie’s been sending you apologetic looks every time he passes you in the hall, but now the entire team is in the weight room as you bring the coaches their coffee.

You place Roy’s in front of him and he asks, “The fuck’s wrong with you?”

You glare. “Nothing. That’s rude to ask, anyway. I’m-” you pause to yawn- “fine.”

Ted looks between you and Roy. “Normally I’d side with the lady on this one, but you look dead on your feet. You been sleepin’ okay?”

“Yes,” you reply shortly. “I’ve been sleeping fine. I just don’t get a lot of it these days.”

“That sounds decidedly un-sexy,” Trent calls from his desk.

You snarl, “It isn’t,” then realize that Trent is undeserving of your anger. “I’m sorry. I’ve been getting like five hours of sleep every night this whole week. Me and my boyfriend just moved in together and we both talk like way too much. So we usually don’t fall asleep until late.”

The room fills with whistles and hoots from Ted, Beard, and Trent. Roy is stoic as always.

“I didn’t know you had a boyfriend,” Ted grins. “What’s his name?”

You hesitate. You’re pretty sure Jamie would be okay if you told Ted, but you’re not sure you really want to. You let the silence stretch on for a beat too long, and Trent’s on you like a vulture.

“It’s someone here, isn’t it?” he asks.

“No,” you reply, but it’s not convincing. It’s hard for you to lie when you’re this tired.

Jamie and Sam choose this exact moment to come into the locker room to grab water bottles. Jamie glances at you and you make the mistake of glancing back. It’s just for a second but Trent catches it with his stupid eagle-eyes.

“Oh shit,” he says.

You round on him. Maybe he does deserve your anger. “Don’t say anything,” you warn.

He zips his lips as Roy says, “Why are you being so fucking weird? We know you’re fucking lying. Just say which of these little pricks you’re dating and get some sleep like a fucking normal adult.”

“I’d be able to get regular sleep, except you’ve been waking me up at fucking 4am!” you explode.

The room goes silent.

“Fuuuck,” Roy whispers. “Fucking Tartt? You’re dating- fuck, you moved in with fucking Tartt?”

“Yes,” you groan, “We’ve been together for six months and it’s probably the most serious relationship I’ve ever been in, and I know how it sounds but we really like each other. Higgins already knows because of HR shit but other than that, it’s been private.”

Ted and Beard have matching open-mouthed smiles. It would be a little scary if you hadn’t known them for as long as you have.

“That’s the most adorable shit I’ve ever heard in my whole life,” Beard says.

“Hold on,” Trent interjects, “does this mean you and Jamie have been staying up late every night talking?”

“Yes,” you reply primly. “And then this prick bangs on our door at fuck-thirty in the morning and I’m awake for the rest of the day.”

Roy says, “Right,” very slowly. “Is that fucking why he wasn’t wearing fucking trousers?”

All eyes turn to you.

“I’m not answering that,” you say. “In fact, I think I hear Higgins calling me. I have to leave right now.” You back out of the room and down the hall before anyone can say anything else.

The coaches’ office is silent for a moment before they all clamor out of their seats to chase you down the hall. They have so many questions but first, they’re going to yell at Higgins for keeping it a secret.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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wordsbyrian · 5 months

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Polyglot: The Early Days - Barca Femeni x Reader

Summary: Another Polyglot fic. Spanish is in italics.

A/N: This was supposed to be done like almost 2 weeks ago but I got sick and started it over a ton of times. Enjoy.

There’s a chance that this could go down as the beginning to the end of your career as a professional footballer. And the sad thing is that you haven’t even played a single game yet.

You’ll end up as just another rising star who faded into obscurity like Freddy Adu or Kleberson.

And if you quit, or god forbid completely fail, you have nothing to return to, having been told in no uncertain terms by your parents to not bother coming back.

You’re basically on your own.

Even more so today because while the rest of the B team is traveling to play their next match against Athletic, you’ve been chosen to stay behind and train with the full team.

That’s obviously a great thing but you had just gotten used to being around your teammates basically 24 hours a day and to be the only one called to train with the first team this time is a little nerve-wrecking.

But you do your best to push it all the way down as you walk into the building and towards the locker room. On your way there you run into Patri who is just as full of energy as every other time you’ve seen her.

“Buenas tardes, Y/N,” she practically shouts in your ear as she slings an arm over your shoulder. “I have a good feeling about training today, so let's get to it, si?”

You barely get a chance to greet her back or nod your agreement before the midfielder is practically dragging you through the halls and into the locker room.

Since you’re walking in with one of the human embodiments of a hurricane there’s no way for you to enter silently and unnoticed. In fact, your entrance is the exact opposite of that with the way the door all but slams open and Patri announces both of your presences as additions to the chaos.

Shaking your head, you move away from the slightly older player and to the corner where you normally get changed, mumbling polite greetings to everyone as you pass them.

Like always you make quick work of getting changed and head out to the field, not wanting to get caught up in the shenanigans you can see forming on the other side of the room.

That ends up being your best decision of the day because seconds before Lluis starts going over the training plan for the day Mapi, Leila and Jenni come rushing out of the locker room with lots of faux innocence plastered on their faces.

For the most part, training goes well. You do struggle at times with the pace you're being expected to move at but as time passes you adapt to it.

There’s also the slight issue of whatever is going on with the older defenders arguing over you in a mix of Spanish and Catalin when they think you aren’t paying attention (impossible when you hear your name like 6 times) but Melanie solves that quickly by whisper shouting something about English-speaking abilities and Lluis already having told Ana-Maria to do something yesterday.

A mystery to be solved later, or not at all if you get your way.

Your big misstep comes at the end of practice during the full-sided scrimmage.

You had let yourself get pulled out of position by Caro one too many times while your team was attacking and it comes back to bite you in the ass when a loose ball comes rolling towards the both of you. You manage to get there before the Norwegian but you make it at the same time as Patri who basically trucks you straight into the earth.

“Holy shit,” you groan as you get back to your feet and sprint to get back into position.

Your quick recovery works out in your favor, you get back fast enough to provide help defense to Pere who has Kheira caught in the corner.

Kheira does her best to try and get around the two of you but a lucky toe poke from Pere frees the ball just enough for you to clear it downfield. You get it far enough that Lluis seems to decide that there’s no point in continuing play and chooses to end training for the day.

After a quick huddle, you head back into the locker room with the rest of the team. And despite the exhaustion that everyone seems to be facing, the noise level is almost identical to the way it was before practice.

You still don’t allow yourself to get sucked into the chaos rushing through your shower and getting changed but just as you go to leave, you’re stopped by Ana-Maria.

“Hey,” she says in English, “team bonding tonight at Paños’ house.”

“I can’t, I have homework.”

The Swiss woman just shakes her at you, “Bring it with you, Mapi and I will pick you up in a few hours.”

“You can try but I’m not gonna come with you.”

Spoiler alert: you do end up at the goalkeeper's house, sitting in a corner with your laptop and textbooks while the others are spread out across the living room.

You’re currently bent over your laptop and like 8 books on Stanley Kubrick trying to explain how Full Metal Jacket is the perfect example of his greatness as a director.

For most of the night, you’ve been very successfully using your headphones to ignore whatever is going on around you. Something that’s very hard to do when you’re being pelted in the back of the head by paper balls.

“Fucking hell,” you shout, ripping them off your head and turning around, “Can you cut that out?”

You’re greeted by the sight of Leila and Patri pointing guilty at each other.

Sighing deeply you turn back to your laptop only to find it being held hostage by Lieke, who’s standing across from you.

“Come eat.”

“I’m not finished,” you say, reaching across the table in an attempt to grab it back.

“You can take a break for 30 minutes to eat something,” she says, “It won’t kill you. There’s pizza in the living room.”

“It will kill me, give me back my laptop.”

“Go eat.”

“No.”

A hard stare, “Go eat.”

“No,” you say again,” And if you’re not gonna give my laptop back, that’s fine. I’ll just do my math homework instead.”

“Oh no you don’t. Ana, come get your kid!”

“Woah, firstly, I’m not her kid," you tell her, "I’m no one’s kid. And secondly, I didn’t want to come anyway so just let me do my work in argh!”

You find yourself thrown over someone’s shoulder and based on how high up you are, it can only be Ana-Maria.

“This isn’t fair.”

You don’t get a response as Ana carries you through Paños’ apartment and drops you on a couch next to Alexia.

“Stay,” she says before dropping a plate into your lap. “Eat.”

“I’m not a dog.”

“Most dogs don’t need to be told to eat, you do.” You stare blankly at her. “Eat.”

You open your mouth to continue protesting but as you do a slice of pizza is shoved into your mouth.

The glare doesn’t leave your face as you slowly chew, much to the amusement of the older women.

“Pobrecita, being forced to sit and eat free food that isn’t cooked en masse like it is at la Masia,” Alexia says to the team in Spanish as she throws an arm over your shoulder.

“She’s probably just hangry, it happens to my little sister sometimes,” Patri suggests, “but she’s 11 not 16 like grumpy over there.”

“La nene is only 16,” Vicky asks.

“Si.”

“No wonder she’s so grouchy,” Leila says, “It’s probably past her bedtime.”

You let the team continue talking about you as you eat your pizza (because you might’ve actually been hangry, not that you would admit it). It’s also a conversation mostly about nothing so you don’t feel the need to say anything.

Until you hear someone ask Ana to ask you something.

“Y/N, Jenni wants to know if,” you cut her off.

“Chicas, sabéis que hablo español, si? Like pretty fluently.”

The room goes silent.

“I’ll take that as a no,” you say before turning to Lieke, “Can I have my laptop back now?”

Maybe you’re not as on your own as you thought.

#woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso x reader #barcelona femeni x reader

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bastardmandennis · 9 months

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i can see you (teacher!joel x fem teacher!reader)

Teacher!joel x fem teacher!reader

Summary: You’re a substitute teacher trying to find your classroom for the day. Joel is a high school teacher who mistakes you for a student, and after school shenanigans ensue.

“You’re a…” “Substitute,” you finish. Joel crosses his arms against his chest, clearly embarrassed at the mishap. “Well,” he grumbles, “why didn’t ya say anything before?”

Warnings: SMUT!! NSFW, age gap (reader is mid-20s, Joel is Joel), grinding, fingering, sass, oral sex (m receiving), …yeah. pls let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 3.6k (idk idk idk)

A/N: yeah i…don’t even know what happened. The spirit of speak now tv possessed me (specifically the sexy vibes of “i can see you,” which this fic is obviously named after). so, yeah. pls like/comment/reblog if you liked this and maybe i’ll write more! hope y'all enjoy teacher joel as much as i do 🙂

Read my neighbor!joel fic here

The bell rings, echoing shrilly through the packed hallway. Students push and move all around you, nearly knocking your messenger back off your shoulder.

You huff and push the strap back up. The hallway is nearly empty now, students funneling themselves into different classrooms. So much for asking someone for directions. This school is massive and disorienting. You weren’t even supposed to be here, but after a last minute call from your friend Laura, a high school geometry teacher, you’d dragged yourself here to watch her classes for the afternoon. Not like you could afford to be picky, job wise.

If you could only find it. You peer at the directions the ancient secretary had written down for you and give up trying to decipher her looping scrawl. The hallway is a dead zone now and as you scurry to the end of the hallway, you almost miss the man leaning against the wall. His arm shoots out to block you from moving up the stairs. You look up, relieved to find someone to direct you, when he speaks.

“You got a hall pass?”

A–huh? He’s not smiling, his arms crossed over his chest, shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal his tan forearms, but surely he’s joking. Right?

“Hall pass, right,” you snort. “Sure. I’m actually just heading up to Ms. Sim–”

“That’s fine. Come with me,” he says. He peels himself off the wall and stalks the opposite way down the hall, not looking to see if you’re following. A student slams his locker and calls out “Hey, Mr. Miller!” The man—Mr. Miller, apparently—raises a hand in acknowledgement but doesn’t slow his pace.

You hitch your bag up again and try to keep up with his long strides. Damn, he’s fast. “Oh, thank you! I think I got all turned around back there…”

Your voice trails off as you enter a classroom. Instead of 25 bored looking teenagers waiting for you, the room is completely empty. A shelf in the corner is crammed with books, spilling out onto the little area rug in front. You turn and a poster of Shakespeare hanging crookedly seems to follow your movements. There’s Christmas lights strung up around the room and a variety of throw pillows laying haphazardly on the ground. This definitely isn’t a math room.

“Wha–” you start.

And immediately shut up at the sight before you. The man–Mr. Miller–is bent over the front of the teacher’s desk, scribbling furiously on a pad of paper. His dark jeans stretch over his ass. You can’t look away. He abruptly stands and turns to face you, perching against the edge of the desk. Does he ever stand up straight? you wonder.

He raises an eyebrow when you don’t move. Holds the piece of paper in his outstretched hand. You want to trace the veins sticking out and quickly push that thought away.

“I sure hope your directions are more legible than Sandra’s,” you laugh and step closer, reaching for the paper. Kind of weird that he’d rather take the time to write it down for you than just tell you, or bring you there, but whatever.

He holds the paper up, out of your reach. “What directions?”

You huff. “To Laura’s room. Ms. Simons, eleventh grade geometry?” you say slowly. His eyebrows furrow and his arm lowers in confusion. Your fingers brush his when you grab the paper and you ignore the spark that shudders through you.

What the–a detention slip? Signed by Joel Miller, the man standing in front of you. Who looks as confused as you feel. Oh my god, he really thought you were a student. A snort makes its way out and you quickly cover it with a cough.

“You’re a…”

“Substitute,” you finish. Joel crosses his arms against his chest, clearly embarrassed at the mishap.

“Well,” he grumbles, “why didn’t ya say anything before?”

The nerve of this guy.

“I would have,” you say, “if someone hadn’t dragged me away before I could.”

He scoffs. Kicks a booted foot across the floor. “You even old enough to be teachin’?”

“Yes, and I’m clearly late, so if you could just direct me to Laura’s room, that would be great.” Who knows what a group of unsupervised teens could get into during your little detour. “Please, Mr. Miller,” you add.

Your sarcasm is lost and his name comes out as a breathy whisper. He stares at you, his dark eyes clouding over. Studies your face until you clear your throat.

“Joel,” he finally says. He takes the paper back from your limp fingers, twisting around to write something on the back of the detention slip.

He pushes the note back into your hand, closing your hand with his. His hand practically dwarfs yours. “Here ya go, darlin’,” he drawls. “‘F you get lost again, you know where to find me.”

You swallow the sudden lump in your throat and mumble out a thank you before stumbling out of the room. Did they turn the heat up in here or something? Your fingers are still clenched around the paper and you make yourself unroll them, staring at the simple block scrawl with directions to your assigned classroom.

Underneath that, in smaller letters: Meet me after class. -Joel

The afternoon flies by in a blur, Joel’s note burning a hole in your pocket as you play random Shark Tank episodes for the last 3 periods. You find yourself tracing the ink, smudged where he’d pressed down a little too hard.

A glance at the clock lets you know there’s one more period before you’re free for the day. Ignoring the sudden butterflies, you give a quick spiel to the bored students, cue up a new Shark Tank, and open your laptop once they’re distracted. It doesn’t take you long to find the school directory, and then after a little more digging, the faculty page and contact info for Joel Miller. Ninth and tenth grade English.

His school picture is what you expected, very no nonsense. Simple. A hint of a smile pulls his lips up, his short beard highlighting his chiseled jaw. He looks serious but you can see the warmth in his deep brown eyes. Just like when he’d looked at you earlier. Eyed you up and down, lingering on your breasts… you shake your head and pull up a new email.

See you tonight. Xx

After a slight hesitation, you add your phone number to the email and click send. As soon as you hear the whoosh of the sent message you want to take it back. What if he was just being nice? Or worse, reports you to the school board or something for harassment. Your head thunks to the desk with a small groan. You silently curse Laura for being sick, for calling you in, for walking down that hallway at the exact right time to run into Mr. Miller–Joel.

You tune into the video playing, trying to ignore the hope that lurches your stomach with each new email that comes in. Just spam, a how’s it going? from Laura that you definitely ignore, some online sales. You feel your chest deflate, stomach sinking the longer your email to Joel goes unanswered.

Stupid, so dumb. The final bell rings and you barely notice the kids leaving, scraping their chairs away from their desks in a rush to get home for the weekend. You pack your bag slowly, dreading having to walk by Joel’s room, hoping he’s not still here. Maybe there’s another way out, one where you won’t have to see him. You’re making a mental map in your mind, debating whether you want to try to follow another teacher out, when your phone dings from the pocket of your bag.

An unknown number. You still here?

Your heart beats faster, hope lifting your chest when you see the second message that comes in right after. It’s Joel. Miller.

You sling your bag over your shoulder and make your way carefully back to his classroom. The school is a ghost town, the rumble of the last bus pulling away from the front quickly fading away. Your footsteps echo down the stairs and you curse yourself for not wearing flats.

You knock lightly against his door, try to calm your beating heart and hope he can’t hear it.

“Mr. Miller?” you call lightly, and step in the room. The overhead lights are off, Christmas lights casting deep shadows around the classroom. You’re grateful for the lack of fluorescent lights–no one looks good under fluorescents. Except maybe Joel, who’d probably look good in any lighting.

Case in point–he’s got a pen between his lips, a book with a folded-over cover in his hand. His hair is ruffled even more than earlier, like he’d been running his hands through it. He puts the book down when you step closer to his desk. The pen dangles from the corner of his mouth, which lifts in a little smile.

“This’s a pleasant surprise,” he says. He leans back in his chair, crosses his arms behind his head. You can see a strip of skin where his shirt untucks from his jeans, and you tear your eyes away.

“Yeah, I, uh. Got your note,” you say. “And your text.” Smooth.

He slaps his hands down on his thighs, rubbing his palms on his rough jeans. You wonder what they would feel like on your bare skin, if they’d be gentle or rough like the calluses on his fingers.

“Hmm,” he murmurs. His eyes rake up and down your body, this time so intentional you know he knows you’re watching. You fight back a blush.

“’M sorry about earlier,” he says. You blink and he continues. “Too pretty to be a student.”

It should be sleazy, the way his eyes linger on your high heeled feet, the hem of your barely-long enough pencil skirt you’d thrown on in a rush. Instead you feel the heat of his gaze and it settles in your stomach, lower. You shift and he looks away, meeting your eyes with a smile.

You step forward, drawn to that smile. Wanting to make him smile again, only for you, a secret only you’d know about.

“I’m sorry too, Mr. Miller,” you say. His eyes darken. Interesting.

“Thought I told ya to call me Joel,” he finally says. Is it just you or did his voice get a lot deeper all of a sudden? More authoritative. That sends a rush of arousal through you and you curse yourself (again) for not wearing underwear today.

You step even closer to his desk, until you’re practically standing in between his spread legs. His eyes trace your legs up up up and linger at your chest. Your lips.

You bite your lower lip and he shifts in his chair. “Of course, Joel.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and just when you think you’ve gone too far, he surprises you, surging up out of the chair to tower over you. He grips your face in his hands. Noses along your cheek until he reaches your ear. You hold back a moan as he bites the lobe lightly.

“Nuh uh, darlin’,” he murmurs. “Wanna hear you, go on.”

He moves down your neck, lingering at your exposed collarbone. He sucks a mark there and this time you can’t hold back, your moan mingling with his panting breaths.

“Please, Joel,” you whimper.

At that he pulls back before finally pressing his lips against yours. They’re rough but his movements are gentle, slow and steady until you’re gasping for air. All you can smell, taste, see, is him him him. You rake your nails through the scruff of his jaw and this time he groans, leaning his head into your hand. You smile and press your lips against his, moaning as his tongue slips against yours.

He pulls you impossibly closer, the wide spread of his hands sliding low down your back. You can feel his arousal pressing up between you and you shift to try to get friction against your throbbing clit.

His groan is low as he pulls away, panting. His eyes are practically black with desire as he grips your ass and pulls you closer, grinding into him. His hands move lower to the back of your thighs and you take the hint, jumping up at the same time he catches you and hoists you up. He walks you over to his desk and deposits you on top, careful not to jostle your mouth away from his. A hardcover book digs into your back and you sweep your hand behind you impatiently, trying to clear a space. He looks at his belongings now covering the floor and raises an eyebrow.

“What?” you ask innocently. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

His answering groan is low. “Thought about this a lot, huh? Spread out on the teacher’s desk?”

“Not any teacher,” you whisper. Hook your legs around the back of his thighs and pull him closer to where you’re warm and aching and so wet. “Just you.”

He runs a thumb over your cheek, down over your swollen bottom lip. Watches as you suck his thumb in, run your tongue around it and hollow your cheeks. He grunts and pops his thumb out, a string of saliva connecting them. He runs the wet finger down the side of your neck, tracing your collarbone before settling over a nipple.

He looks surprised to see no bra in the way of his wandering hands. “I was in a rush,” you grumble, tightening your legs where they’re hooked low on his waist.

“’M glad you were,” he murmurs, eyes on the way your nipples have hardened against your shirt. “Or I couldn’t do this.”

He bends down, forcing your back to lower onto the desk. Sucks your nipple right through your shirt, his tongue sweeping over and over the hardened bud. You let out a high-pitched whine, tug his hair the way you’ve been thinking about this whole time while he mouths the other one.

“Joel, come on, touch me,” you whine. The ache between your legs is unbearable now, the pounding of your clit overwhelming. You arch your hips up for any kind of friction but he stops that quickly. Throws a hand across your hips, pushing down. His jaw clenches and you want to grin at how disheveled he looks, curls all pointing in different directions and the light shadow of a hickey under his jaw.

“I am touching you,” he teases. The heat from his hand leeches through the layers of clothes, branding you as his.

“Please, I just–ugh,” you groan.

“Whaddya want, hm?” he whispers. Drags his lips around your jaw, your cheeks, your lips again until you’re squirming. “Give you anything, just gotta ask.”

For some reason you’re suddenly shy and can’t meet his intense gaze. “Want…want your fingers. In me,” you say softly. He groans at your words and adjusts his pants.

“Yeah?” he asks. “Okay, sweetheart. Lemme see.”

He drags his slightly damp thumb down your hip, pressing briefly there before running under the waistband of your skirt. He snaps it against your skin and you hiss lightly.

He lets out a tortured groan when he pushes your skirt up and finds you bare, nothing between your slick skin and his thick fingers.

“’S all for me?” His voice is rough, wrecked as he swipes his thumb through your slit, collecting the slick there. Groans when you nod, shifting to spread your legs even further, opening yourself up to him even more.

“Alright,” he husks. “Gonna take care of you, don’t worry.”

He drags his thumb lightly over your clit once, twice. You jolt and pull him closer, arching your back off the desk. He traces a single finger down the crease of your thigh slowly, the bastard, grinning when you become impatient and hook your leg around to try and bring him closer.

Finally, finally, he pushes the tip of his finger in and you moan at the sudden intrusion. His fingers are thick, calluses rubbing just right as his thumb flicks your clit. He mouths loosely at your neck and you wish you could do something more besides whimper and arch yourself closer to his insanely talented fingers.

“’S okay, sweetheart, I got you,” he says lowly. Dips a second finger in you, drags your slick back up to your clit and presses down hard. “You’re so tight, fuck, how’m I gonna fit, huh? Gonna make room for me in this tight pussy?”

“Fuck, please,” you groan. His fingers pump steadily, thumb swiping your clit lazily. You feel your release building, head spinning as you gasp for breath. “’M gonna–ah, please. Please.”

He presses his thumb directly to your swollen clit and your back arches so hard you almost throw him off. Your legs clamp around him, as if he could physically be any closer, and he pulls down your top, exposing your breast to the cool air. He sucks a mark on the side of your breast and your head spins, the sensations overwhelming. You can hear the squelch of his fingers pumping in and out but you can’t even feel embarrassed, too busy chasing your orgasm that’s just out of reach.

You whimper in frustration when he stills his fingers, thumb resting in the crease of your hip. You’re throbbing, so wet you can feel it spilling down the backs of your thighs onto his desk. He’ll think of me after, when he’s cleaning it off his desk, you realize, and that thought combined with the press of Joel’s teeth on the edge of your breast, his thumb swirling around your slippery clit, finally sends you over the edge.

“Good girl,” he murmurs lowly. “Such a good girl, just for me.”

When you finally catch your breath and open your eyes, he’s looking at you with such raw hunger that you can’t even be self conscious that you just came all over his desk, breast hanging out of your shirt, skirt hiked up, while he’s still fully dressed. His shirt is rumpled, fully untucked from his pants now. You reach for the bulge in his jeans, more than ready to reciprocate, when he grabs your wrist.

“Let me,” you whisper. “Please, Mr. Miller?”

He thrusts his hips into your hand at your words and you smile. You slump to the floor, boneless after one of (if not the) best orgasm of your life, and look up at him through your lashes. Fuck, he’s pretty, marked up and wet spot spreading on the front of his jeans. I did that to him, you think, and that sends another surge of arousal through you. He leans back against his desk, legs spread, watching as you slowly unbuckle his belt and drag it out of the loops. It makes a hollow clang when it hits the ground. You pull his jeans and briefs down slowly, and he growls.

You flash him an innocent grin and pull them down the rest of the way, his hard cock springing up at the sudden freedom. Holy shit, he’s big. You run your hands down his stomach, scratching lightly through the trail of hair there and avoiding his leaking cock.

“Go on,” he says. His hands twitch like he wants to grab your head but he stops, gripping the edge of the desk instead. “’S my good girl, such a good–fuck.”

You take the tip of him in your mouth, swirling your tongue around the leaking head. You pull back, leaving little kitten licks up and down the shaft, never settling in one place for long. He groans, long and loud, and his knuckles go white with how hard he’s gripping the desk.

“Shit, I’m, can I? Let me fuck your mouth, please, let me fill that pretty little mouth,” he rambles. He sounds wrecked, hair sticking up at all angles from where he’d run his hands through it over and over.

You moan, the heavy weight of his cock on your tongue. Pull off to say in a hoarse voice, “Yes yes, please,” and that’s all he needs to hear, fisting his hands in your hair and slowly feeding you his cock. You can’t take the whole thing, nose almost pressed to the wiry hair at the base, but you do your best, letting the spit run from your mouth as you twist your hand around what your mouth can’t reach.

He thrusts his hips up shallowly, grunting when he hits the back of your throat. You swallow around him and the grip on your hair gets tighter. His thighs tense when you hum around his cock.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he pants. “Such a good girl, lettin’ me fuck you right here where anyone can see, hmm? Feels so–so good. ’M gonna–where d’you want it, hm?”

You don’t answer, licking at the tip, tonguing the slit gently. He shoves once, twice, to hit the back of your throat and finally comes with a stutter of his hips when you swallow around him.

“Fuck, fu-uck,” he says, broken. Watches as you let his spent dick fall from your mouth, string of come and spit dragging from the corner of your mouth. Your breath hitches as he reaches out with a thumb to push it back into your mouth. He gives you a smile, small but genuine.

“That was…” you trail off. Push yourself off your knees, brushing invisible dirt off your skirt. You feel his eyes on you again.

Joel reaches out and grabs your hand. Interlocks your fingers together before you can pull back.

“Yeah,” he says. “Can I…take you out tomorrow, or somethin’?” He sounds nervous, and you can’t help but smile. He just fucked your mouth, whispered the dirtiest things in your ear, but the idea of a date makes him blush? How cute.

“You know where to find me,” you say.

Joel’s answering smile is bright, just for you.

masterlist here

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou fic #pedro pascal fic #smut #lexi writes things #this has been consuming my brain for the past week so pls enjoy

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