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naquey · 9 months

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Eddie Baby

Inspired by a song but it's not actually a song fic. You can listen to the song while reading, or don't. It doesn't really affect anything.

Dear old Eds pays a visit to the woman who's loved him for so long, whom was thrown in Arkham to rot away for eternity. And maybe he breaks her out.

t/w: guns, gun violence, blood, mentions of death

(divider: cafekitsune)

The Riddler wasn't a sentimental man.

At least, he never wanted Penguin to know that. Oswald had a penchant for taking the things closest to him and kidnapping them, or killing them. So, he kept a little secret from his feathered friend. Wearing a nice plaid jacket, and some khakis instead of his green velvet suit he adjusted his tie. The fake I.D. tucked into his old wallet, the one he carried around back when he was a civilian and worked for the GCPD.

The security at Arkham always made him nervous, but the staff here seemed to have already forgotten his face. He remembered the last time he had stayed at the asylum, it made him twitch and squirm as he walked the halls side by side with a guard. Ed couldn't forget what he had to go through, what he had seen.

He could only imagine it had gotten worse.

Jim Gordon was the new commissioner, there was no doubt in his mind it most certainly had gotten worse. That Professor Strange didn't work here anymore, but he still felt his skin crawl. He was older and his face had changed a lot since then, wrinkles and sun damage, and all the things in similarity. Even a few grey hairs strewn in with black strands.

His heart skipped a beat when he saw that familiar red tone. She was sitting behind glass, chin in one hand, tapping her nails idly on the counter. Her eyes lit up seeing Ed in the doorway and a grin stretched across her face.

"You're here!"

She sprung up from her seat and put her hands to the glass, pressing her face as close as possible. Ed wanted to be closer than the glass allowed him.

"You asked me here, I couldn't keep you waiting."

"That was years ago." Her smile faltered.

"I know, I know. I'm later than expected, but, how about a riddle to make up for it?"

"A riddle?!

Her grin settled back onto her face and she clapped her hands together. Pressing herself up against the glass she giggled, no, laughed like a hyena. Ed hadn't heard such a cute sound in a long time.

"What stares with a stone face, listens without answering, and hovers by like a vulture?"

A grin of his own crawled across his face.

Realization crossed her features and he saw her gaze shift from him to what was behind him. The guard was standing in front of the doorway. Listening in to their conversation.

"Rose?"

"Guard!" She called.

He stepped away as the police officer stepped up to the glass. She started asking him for things and Ed noticed the camera up in the corner. Rolling his eyes he looked over at her, shaking his head.

Then the red light on the camera went out.

Okay, maybe he did ask for at least some help from Penguin's henchmen. Penguin would hear of this later, but it wouldn't matter then. Ed had grabbed the handcuffs and had cuffed the guard then held chloroform to his mouth and nose. His body had slumped like a ragdoll after a moment and Ed let him hit the floor.

"Correct, you still have your wits."

"Oh, come on, just let me out already."

"Darling, I need you to be quiet."

He bent down and took the keyring from the officer's belt. There were only a few keys so he didn't have too many too look through, it really is a security problem if they only ever have a few. There was a door separating the visitors and the asylum patients, he crouched by the lock and tried each key, the third one fit.

Rose squealed and ran into Ed, hugging her arms around his neck. She nearly sent him off balance with the force of her hug but he was quick to catch himself before he fell over.

"I can't believe you did it! You actually did it!"

"Not without some help from a couple of bird brains." Ed brushed some of her hair out of her face. "When we get home, I have a plan I'd like to propose to you."

"Oh! Backup, such a nice ring to it."

"Shall we go before they find out the cameras were cut or do you need your things?"

"You know I have nothing here, let's go!"

He grabbed the officer's gun, taking her hand in his free hand. Breaking out of Arkham thanks to the Penguin was such a rush, but breaking out someone he loves was even more thrilling. They ran down the hallway, Rose laughing with glee.

"Hey! Stop!" An officer called when she'd seen them.

"Wait, wait. No! Don't shoot!"

"You wouldn't be free of this place if a few people's lives weren't lost, my love." His voice was so soft and kind, something she had missed so much. She nodded slowly.

Looking away when he shot at the officer, when the blood spattered and pooled on the floor beneath the body. She hid her face in his arm. More cops had closed in on their location and they ran again. The exit was so close, he could just feel it. Ed was so sure that this would finally work.

Then something exploded.

Rose scrunched up her hair in the towel Oswald was so generous to give her. Fresh from her shower she felt clean and happy. Ed was sitting in a big arm chair, eyes glued to the television. The news was talking about her asylum escape. A shiver ran down her spine as the names and pictures of officer's showed up on the screen. She wasn't the one who killed people, but seeing so many die bothered her. She was free, but it was like something was weighing on her soul.

She was older now, left alone with her mind for so long. The floor boards creaked under her barefoot and Ed turned around, startled. Switching off the television he stood up and turned to her in one swift motion.

"As breathtaking as the first moment I saw you."

"Eddie..." Her hands were trembling, the towel was shaking.

"Hey, hey, hey. What's wrong?" He pulled her in a hug, her head tucked under his chin.

"You didn't have to kill them..." Her voice was small.

"They would have caught us."

"I know that, but they were people."

"Everyone I ever killed before them was a person, it doesn't matter though! You're here!" She stepped back and he cupped her face in his hands. "You're safe."

He was so gentle and kind. The doctors at Arkham had told her over and over that Riddler was a cruel, vile man who would do horrible things to her. They didn't believe that she was in love with the man who was Riddler. It was seen as a delusion, which was why she was admitted. She couldn't help it when he heart melted. It had been so long. Arkham had been so horrible.

She was startled when Ed wiped away her tears. Pulled in for another hug she finally let go and began to cry, her shoulders shaking and her body crumbling into him. He petted her hair and pressed kisses to her head, slowly swaying the both of them as she sobbed into his arms.

For now, he wouldn't tell her what he had been waiting to propose, but eventually he would tell her.

#batman #dc comics #gotham #gotham rogues #batman rogues #rogues gallery #the riddler #ed nygma #edward nygma #dc the riddler #dc ed nygma #x oc #the riddler x oc #ed nygma x oc #rose corvid #arkham asylum

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finding-dominica · 2 years

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This week we are taking a look at communication within the context of business and the practical differences between the culture of Dominica, and that of the United States. I spoke to my Dominican friend about this and he said that business there is the same as business here. The Primary difference is that open air markets are still a standard practice in Dominica, much like other cultures that emerged after the end of colonialism. This is a recent video I found of a Dominican family trip to the market, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1aRPk1mvusU&t=25s

In more formal business settings are much the same with a little more small talk. People are expected to dress in accordance with their station in their industry. Professional dress ranges from a full suit and tie to khaki pants and a polo shirt if there is not a specific uniform required. Though, as always it is common for Dominicans to incorporate the traditional plaid patterns into their daily dress.

Greetings are cordial, a firm handshake while looking your counterpart in the eye. It is customary for the person receiving guests into there place of business to initiate conversation. Starting with good morning or good afternoon followed asking after the visitor's day is the common practice in both countries. Corruption in both the private sector and government operations is another cultural aspect that U.S. Americans share with Dominicans, and so we have similar ideas about gift giving and its association with bribery.

Some of the potential issues that you may find, should your career lead you to find yourself in Dominica, is that the local accent can be quite heavy with some people. Also, in the smaller towns and rural areas many of the people will prefer to speak Creole or Patois. Last, you will find that Dominicans tend to behave more rigidly around foreigners, which is another trait common to small nations or cultures with their roots in colonial history.

As I have mentioned before, I had the pleasure of serving in the army with a man, Rama Toulon, who was raised in Dominica. He never had a problem with adjusting to life on the continent or working in the U.S. American culture. The greatest difficulty he had was in the fact that he more emotionally mature and bookish than the majority of our fellow soldiers, which is why he and I ended up being such good friends.

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starlitangels · 2 years

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Broken (Not Broken) - Part 3.5

I said that whatever Sam and Angel were up to wasn’t my problem in my B(NB) story. But here’s what they were doing anyway 1.8k words (Part 1)(Part 2)(Part 3)(Part 4)

—

I glanced at the clock ticking away endlessly on the wall of my office. It was pushing 2AM. Groaning, I rubbed my tired eyes under my blue light filtering glasses. The project I’d been working on was finally done, and I could go home.

But it was also two-o’clock in the morning and the buses didn’t run this late—and I’d taken the bus that morning while my car was being repaired.

I groaned a drawn-out curse and started assembling my stuff to head home. It wasn’t that long of a walk, but it was long enough to be irritating. Especially this late.

I was calling out tomorrow and getting some well-deserved sleep.

Once all my stuff was together, I slipped my pepper spray into my hand, hidden somewhat by my jacket sleeve before clocking out and leaving the office. Cool, early-summer air licked at my exposed skin. I tried not to shiver as I started to head home. The walk would warm me up in no time, I knew that.

Dahlia passed by slowly on either side of me. Slower for the fact that I was exhausted. This project had been non-stop for three days. I’d barely had time to go home, change, and shower. And on top of that my car had broken down yesterday...

A lot was going on and I couldn’t walk as fast as I normally would have.

I hadn’t gotten five blocks away from my office building when a man emerged from a nearby building. Solaire Property Management, according to the decal on the door. I’d heard of them. They were a prominent company in the city. This man just... didn’t look like the typical property management employee. Usually I imagined at least khakis and a polo shirt, if not a button-down and tie.

This man wore beat-up, worn-out jeans, a bland grey T-shirt, and a plaid flannel worn unbuttoned over the T-shirt.

Also cowboy boots.

If I had to guess, he probably had a big silver belt buckle on under his T-shirt too.

He beamed at me and approached me. “There you are,” he said with a distinctly Southern accent. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

I gripped my pepper spray tighter as he gave me a hug—though I noticed immediately he wasn’t actually touching me.

“Don’t be obvious,” he whispered. “But look over your shoulder. Three men have been following you for the last two blocks.” I did as he said, peeking over my shoulder as subtly as possible. Indeed, there were three big, burly men strolling casually behind us, trying hard not to look at me and the man.

I swore under my breath as the man released me from the not-hug.

“Would you mind if I walked you to wherever it is you’re goin’?” the man asked. “I can’t in good conscience just let you head off with a tail.”

“Uh...” The fact remained that this man was also a stranger, but something about him radiated genuine sincerity. Maybe it was that Southern charm I’d heard so much about. “I’d appreciate that, actually. Thank you.”

He smiled. He had a nice smile. “My pleasure.” He tucked his hands in his jeans’ pockets and nodded toward the direction I’d been heading. “After you,” he invited. I smiled and went back to walking. He trailed half-a-step behind me. My grip on my pepper spray relaxed slightly, but not much.

“So, working late too?” I asked.

“Is there any other time to work?” he joked.

I snorted. “Fair point.”

“I take it that’s why you’re out so late?” He glanced around. I peeked another glance at him. His eyes caught one of the streetlights and flashed like a cat’s as we passed beneath it. Even though human eyes weren’t supposed to be able to do that.

I don’t have the energy to try to unpack that, I decided.

“Yeah,” I said.

We kept walking. The man occasionally glanced over his shoulder back at where the three men were still trailing behind. I swallowed, trying to calm my nerves.

“I’m Sam, by the way,” he said.

I gave him my name in return. Just my first name, since he gave me his first name.

“Nice to meet you.��

“Likewise,” I replied. I stretched, using it as an excuse to look over my shoulder. “These guys really are determined, aren’t they?”

Sam grunted, glowering ahead of us. “They’ll get spooked and peel off,” he said confidently.

“What makes you say that?”

This late at night, cars were constant but fewer and farther between. A black sedan passed on the other side of the road. Its headlights shone on Sam’s eyes, making them reflect like a cat’s again. He blinked hard against the light, turning away slightly, before answering. “When they realize I ain’t leavin’ you anytime soon, they’ll go somewhere else. That’s how men like them work. They only look for easy targets.”

“We’re still technically outnumbered,” I pointed out. “Maybe that’s why they haven’t already ditched.”

Sam snorted. “Outnumbered, sure,” he agreed sarcastically. “But that means nothin’. I’m pretty sure I could take all three-a ‘em out before they could finish pullin’ weapons on us.”

“You’re confident,” I said.

Sam shrugged. “I have reason to be—that we don’t need to get into right now. Suffice to say, I’m a country boy at heart. Ya learn how to handle yourself real quick.”

I nodded. “So... if you don’t mind my asking, how come your eyes flash like a cat’s?”

Sam chuckled. “Ah yeah. That. Special light-filterin’ contact lenses. My brother recommended I try ‘em out. But they look weird and catch light weird too.”

That made sense. I nodded. “I’m guessing you work for SPM, then?”

“Yeah. Howsabout you? What do you do?”

“I work about five blocks from SPM in that business park... place. Currently doing a big data analysis project but that’s not technically my job.”

“Sounds stressful.”

I shrugged. “Mildly.”

Sam looked over his shoulder again. “Good lord. These idiots ain’t gettin’ the message.”

Still pretending to be friends with this stranger for the sake of the men following me—us, now—I burst out laughing, gently grabbed his elbow in both hands, and dragged him into one of those 24-hour grocery stores, like we were a pair of pals having a late-night jaunt. His arm was like stone under my grip. Powerful muscles held completely rigid.

Once we were through the doors, I let him go. “Sorry,” I said.

He shrugged. “‘S alright,” he replied. “Didn’t hurt, and I hugged you without permission.”

“Well, for the sake of safety, I think it can be forgiven.”

“I was thinkin’ the same thing.”

We wandered a little deeper into the grocery store, but never out of sight of the doors, seeing if the men were going to follow us in or not. I wasn’t keeping up the act of friendly pal in my nervousness, but Sam was careful to block me from sight and keep the conversation flowing.

“So, any pets?” he asked.

“Not at the moment. I used to have a cat. But when my ex and I broke up I left her with him. I love her but—” I shrugged. “—she always liked him better. So when we split I didn’t fight it when he asked to keep her.”

“What’s her name?” Sam asked.

I smiled. “Cleocatra.”

Sam snorted. “Creative,” he remarked. “That your idea or your ex’s?”

“Neither, actually. We adopted her from a shelter. She was a couple years old—like, two or three, I think—and that was the name she came with. Michael—my ex—liked to call her Her Royal Majesty a lot. Probably why that spoiled brat of a kitty preferred him over me.” I snickered at the memory. Michael and I hadn’t spoken in a long time, except when he sent me pictures of Cleo tangled up in some scarf or with her head stuck in a vase.

Sam smiled—then his expression dropped. “They’re in here,” he said. I glanced past him to see the three men from before. Sam grabbed me by the arm and pulled me down a random aisle. “Dammit.” He sounded more like he was talking to himself than to me.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“I recognized one of them. They’re shifters.”

“They’re what, now?”

“Shifty.”

“No, you said shifters.”

“I misspoke. I meant shifty.” He continued to tug me down the aisle, heading for a spot where we could dodge out the other door. “But they might be hard to shake. C’mon. We should at least try.”

We dodged out the grocery store’s other exit, making a quick stride down the sidewalk.

“Nice thinkin’,” Sam said. “Goin’ inside. We mighta managed to shake them. Is there an alternate route we can take wherever it was you were headin’?”

I glanced around and pointed down a side street. “This way.”

Sam followed close behind me. We took a couple corners that seemed random, but I knew fairly well, and made it to my apartment building.

“This is me,” I said, gesturing behind me. “Thank you, by the way. You didn’t have to walk me home. But I appreciate it.”

“‘Course. Happy to help. Couldn’t just look the other way when I noticed you were bein’ followed.”

“That’s very kind of you, Sam.” I gave him a half-smile. I opened my mouth, paused, shut it, then opened it again. “Can I treat you to coffee or something, sometime, to say thank you?”

Sam chuckled awkwardly, taking a half-step back. “I’m not much of a coffee drinker. And I work pretty much sunup to sundown anyway.”

“Dessert then? There’s a great fro-yo place that’s open till like 2AM a few blocks from here.”

“Darlin’, you don’t hafta make some sorta gesture outta this.” Sam shook his head softly.

“Please let me repay you,” I said. “It’s the least I can do. Let me treat you to from frozen yogurt one of these nights. Just... as a token of gratitude. Please?”

Sam inhaled deeply. “Alright. Fine. One of these nights.”

I pulled my phone out and pulled up a new contact, handing it to him. “Put your number in. I’ll shoot you a text and we’ll find a good time to catch some dessert one of these nights.”

He took my phone, plugged in his number, and handed it back.

He’d added his last name to the contact. Collins. Sam Collins. I saved the contact.

“You take care of yourself, alright, darlin’? And if you’re ever walkin’ home late again, let me know.”

“I will. Thanks, Sam. Have a good night.”

“You too.” He waved and started to back up. His eyes flashed in the streetlight as he passed underneath it.

I waved too and ducked inside my building.

#Redacted ASMR #fic #Redacted Sam #Redacted Angel #Sam Collins #Angel #Sam #it physically pained me to write Sam calling Angel 'Darlin''#but it felt in line with his character #don't @ me for it #Starlit Fic

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wheelsup · 3 years

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the taming of the shrew | one

he is more a shrew than she

penelope reveals her plan to get you and spencer together. unfortunately, her plan has a few hitches.

A/N: again, big thanks to @homoose for being my helpful beta reader, and to YOU for reading it now.

category: fluff, spencer reid x fem!reader, series

wc: 4.1k

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Penelope came back to your place the following night, bearing a new bottle of wine and a collection of materials she mentioned were integral to executing the plan.

Very quickly into Penelope’s explanation of this Genius Plan –– her words, not yours –– you remembered what it was she did for work. Officially, she was some sort of technical computer-y person for the Federal Bureau. As you knew her, she’s a danger to society and anyone with a traceable digital presence.

She managed to construct a comprehensive list of every place in D.C. and Virginia that her friend liked going to, along with the approximate times in which you were most likely to find him there. Approximate meaning, exactly which days he visits and the roughly time of day, down to a mere one hour margin of error.

You scanned the list over, shocked at its detail. Where he cut his hair, got his coffee, bought his books. His favorite restaurants, the chess clubs he’s a member of, his local hospital.

His local hospital?!

“I’m not going to need to know that, am I?” you paused.

“Probably not, but it comes in handy with this job,” she shrugged with a nonchalance that was rather alarming.

There had to be a dozen more places on the sheet –– ranked, in order of his (assumed) preference for them. Penelope calculated it based on the frequency of his visits, their average duration per session, and how often he’d mentioned about the place.

“What?” she tossed her palms up, taking offense when you asked her if she had evil plans to take over the tristate area. “Hang out with him long enough, you tell me if you pick up a knack for researching or not.”

Researching. Mining private data through questionable methods. It’s a small difference to Penelope.

“Remind me not to get on your bad side, Penelope,” you muttered under your breath, flipping the sheet back and forth. “You could ruin my whole life with ten minutes on a computer.”

“I wanted to be thorough,” she defended, shrugging. “And I’d only need five.”

You laughed through your nose, giving the paper one last scan. “You left out one important thing, though.”

“No, I put his home address on there,” her brows wrinkled together as she pointed it out on the sheet with one hot pink polished finger.

“His name,” you berated. “Jesus, you think I’m going to show up at his home?!”

“Again! I’m thorough,” she cried at your accusatory tone. “His name’s Spencer. You’ll like him when you meet him.”

You didn’t doubt that Penelope’s friend was a likeable guy, but you weren’t exactly dying to go out of your way to meet him. You told her that you’d get around to it when you had a chance and left it at that.

And two weeks later, you found yourself in need of a caffeine fix that your tea kettle wasn’t strong enough to satisfy. You started on a new piece late the previous night, and midnight rolled into four in the morning, which pushed you into the arms of seven o’clock. Reinforcements were needed.

Throwing on a large sweater to cover up your messy clothes and grabbing the closest pair of shoes you could find, you originally planned on heading to your usual spot just around your street corner. Just as you were leaving, the list, still sitting untouched in the exact spot that Penelope left it in, caught your eye.

It’d been a while since you told Penelope you’d help her out. Enough time had passed that you now felt like there was an invisible deadline over your head.

Maybe it won’t hurt to try something new?

Besides, meeting someone at a coffee shop seemed like an easy, foolproof way to go about this. From all the movies and romance novels, you knew that cafes are the pinnacle of meet-cute situations. Or, in your case, a meet-forced.

Regardless, it should’ve been simple enough, and it would’ve gotten the favor off your shoulder.

You scanned the sheet for the cafe Spencer would be at on a Thursday at 8 a.m., and got there with barely five minutes to spare before he was expected to show.

It was just your luck that he had to pick a cafe practically as far from your home as he could get, and the transfer train had to have a delay that made you walk the last three-quarters of a mile there. Call it crazy, but you didn’t expect to actually have to put in work for this. You expected it better be worth the hassle.

You took a seat in the back of the cafe to catch your breath as you waited for him to show up. Sitting in the booth, with your head down so you coudn’t be seen, the plan started to feel stupid all over again. You were running around the city, spying on this stranger, and for what?

The silver bell hung over the door frame interrupted before your thoughts could travel down that path of questioning. It rang each time a new patron enters, and within the next twenty minutes it rang only eight or nine times. None of them appeared to be Spencer.

You were prepared to call this one a failure and leave, when you realized your colossal mistake. You only had his name, and no idea what he looks like. So unless he happened to wear a name tag around you could’ve already missed him. You realized then that there were more than a few flaws in this plan.

Keeping an eye on the door, you dialed Penelope’s contact as a swarm of new patrons flooded in.

“How am I supposed to know what he looks like?” you whispered into the phone, failing to cover it with a hand cupped over the speaker. Penelope was confused for only a second by the apparent lack of context.

“Oh! He’s tall, has mousy brown hair but he cut it recently. It’s like… missing on the sides, but it’s all there in the front!” she explained.

What the hell does she mean missing?

“Pen, brunette? That’s like all the guys in here…” You took a look around the full cafe; various men typing on computers, taking calls. All of them looked the same, from their brown hair to their khakis and puffer coats. “You’re going to have to give me a little more than brown hair.”

Penelope struggled to explain and with each new feature she gave you, your mental picture of him got more clouded. “He’s skinny! Dresses like a vintage teddy bear!”

“Does he have kind of like… a hot English teacher vibe?” you quirked your head, spying a man approaching from the sidewalk and drinking him in with your eyes. Tall, brunette, clad in corduroy head to toe with a plaid sweater vest underneath. Vintage Teddy Bear F/W 1978 collection.

“Yes! He teaches sometimes! And you think he’s hot?”

Your mouth gaped even though she couldn’t see you. “No, I - I didn’t say that. I said he had the vibes of a hot teacher.”

“And how different is that from saying he’s––”

“Pen, I gotta go. Your guy’s walking in.” You put the phone away before she could pick apart what you said.

The bell on the front door rang as he came in and you stared intently at his face. If this was like the movies, he’d turn his head right then, at the perfect time, and make eye contact. He’d fall madly in love from the first look, and your work would be done. You sat at the edge of your seat, burning holes into his skull, waiting for that moment.

But alas, he never looked up from the linoleum flooring as he walked up to the counter. With a groan, you slid out of your booth and quickly hopped into the line before anyone else could claim the spot behind him.

New plan: eavesdrop, order the same coffee as him, and pretend to go for the cup at the same time. Laugh about the coincidence, how if you share the same coffee order you must certainly have a lot in common, and have him fall in love with you.

But you overheard him rattle off his order and were absolutely horrified. Black coffee, extra sugar. Like, extra, extra sugar.

You were going to need a second change of plans.

You eyed him up and down, searching for something you could approach him about. He was donning black converse under a fitted pair of dark brown corduroy trousers, with a blazer to match, and a deep green plaid vest underneath. On paper, this outfit shouldn’t work. In practice, it… really did.

A little too well, given how good he looks in it. More fashionable than a federal agent ought to be as required by dress codes, right?

“Can I help you?” you heard, and it poked the bubble of your thoughts. Your head shot up to meet his for the first time, eyes wide as heat crawled up your face.

“Uh. No ––” Shit. You didn’t even realize how long you were staring at his legs. Long, long legs. And shit, why did you say no? That was your opening to talk to him.

The man –– Spencer –– nodded his head slowly, uncomfortably, and turned away with a forced grin. He grabbed the coffee cup placed on the counter and you thought now was the time to say something. But by the time you thought of it, he’d already picked up his cup and made his way to the door.

The stupid silver bell mocked you as he left.

The first attempt left you slightly jilted, but a few days later you found yourself in need of a few grocery items. You just happened to be in his neighborhood that day, and though it was very much out of the way of your own, you didn’t plan on it being a problem. He’d never see where you lived anyways, and he’d never need to know how unlikely this chance encounter really was.

You had Penelope text you the address of his regular grocery store, and upon arrival, felt immediate concern. It was not a grocery store. It was a convenience mart slash liquor store at the corner of the street, below a building of worn apartments.

As you walked through the aisles, the only things you found were a large assortment of wines that took up half the small store space, an aisle of candy packets and chips, a section for household supplies, and one measly aisle for canned and boxed foods.

Cereal, instant noodles, soup cans, pancake mix… nothing very fresh.

Spencer seemed like a pretty scrawny guy. You now believed it might’ve been from the fact that his food choices were so off-putting that he simply didn’t eat. It wasn’t your place to be concerned, but you decided that if you ever ended up taking him out, a farmer’s market might be good for him.

You loitered around for perhaps longer than necessary. The inquisitive shop attendant asked if you need help –– as in, why are you still here, get out of my store –– and you told her you were just really conflicted on which detergent brand you needed. Finally, the man you were after arrived at the scene.

“Hi, Dolores,” he greete with a small wave. The attendant, Dolores, greets back with a positivity that she sorely lacked when talking to you. Dolores has favorites, apparently.

An unexpected panic settled in your stomach and you quickly turned back to your selection of fabric softeners. You weren’t hiding, you just didn’t want him to catch you staring again. You picked up your two props, pretending to read the labels on the back and compare the chemical formulas on each of them, when you saw him out of the corner of your eyes.

He went into the aisle in front of yours, and over the short shelves you saw the back of his head sweeping over the modest food section. He turned around to inspect the other side of the aisle, and you ducked your head even lower. It was in vain. He spotted you anyway.

You fixed your eyes even harder onto the bottles, afraid to look anywhere else. He shuffled out of his aisle and turned the corner into yours. You started sweating a little.

“Uhm. Excuse me,” he said.

“Yeah?” You looked up from your bottles, putting on your best caught-off-guard face. Like you were a girl in a movie, reading a book on the beach (not detergent labels in a liquor store) and your romantic interest just noticed how beautiful you looked doing it, deciding he had to introduce himself.

“Can you… can you move…” he asked, gesturing to the section of cleaners that you’re blocking.

Never mind.

“Oh! Yeah, sorry.” You burned up, moving out of his way. He reached for what he needed and you peeked down to inspect the contents of his basket. Organic whole wheat bread, cream of mushroom soup, and somehow, he’d managed to find the only two apples this place must carry. At least there was light at the end of the dark, dark tunnel.

He tossed a bottle of Snuggle fabric softener and you raised your brows. Given that he was “grocery shopping’’ in a three-piece suit –– a good one, too, black trousers, vest and blazer with an eggplant purple shirt and lavender tie –– you would’ve expected him to simply send his clothes out for dry cleaning.

“Snuggle, huh?” you said. He gave you a confused look. “Oh, uh. I was looking at these. Couldn’t pick between the two.” You raised your two bottles of softener; Snuggle and Tide.

You needed him to know you weren’t just saying Snuggle to insinuate that you would like to do that to him. You remembered Penelope telling you he had a degree in chemistry or some sort of science field, and asked, “Is… is that one like, more organic? I was trying to read the formulas but I don’t… I don’t recognize the chemicals,” you trailed off. You could see yourself losing his interest the more you spoke. He barely looked at you as he grabbed whatever else he needed.

“I don’t know… I just like it,” he bristled. You looked down at the bottle and flipped it over to the front. It had a drawing of a teddy bear on it. How fitting.

You go to comment on it but yet again he’d made an escape, already at the checkout counter and unloading his basket by the time you looked up again. You rolled your eyes, wondering if it’s even worth it to follow him into line and see if he sparks up a conversation this time.

You could tell that he wouldn’t. So you gave him the space to buy his items and leave.

You didn’t really need the detergent, but Dolores gave you a pointed look before you could even think about putting it back on the shelf. You ended up buying the detergent, a loaf of bread, and two packets of sweets out of guilt.

As you took the train home, digging into your packet of sour peach rings, you began to doubt if you can carry out Penelope’s request.

After two failed attempts, you were prepared to tell Penelope that this just wasn’t going to work out. You didn’t expect it to be this difficult to talk to Spencer nor did you see yourself getting closer to him anytime soon. It would be best if she just found someone else to do it.

You caught her in the hallway, leaving her apartment just as you came home from the store. It seemed like as good of a time as any to let her know how unsuccessful your escapades were going. With your tail between your legs, you approached her with the intention of breaking the plan off.

But the second she saw you, it was like she could read through you. She clocked what you were about to say and before you could, she gave you a warm hug. It was the first one you’d ever received from her, actually. And she thanked you for trying.

It didn’t make you feel guilty, per se, but it definitely made you feel weird about telling her the news. So you bit back on telling her what you were really going to say. She didn’t need to know the details of your failure, or the fact that you were seconds away from giving up on her friend.

Maybe you didn’t need to give up right away.

After all, you did only talk to the guy twice. Don’t they always say the third time’s the charm?

You left the conversation at just that –– letting her know that you’re happy to do this for her, even if you aren’t really –– and slinked back into your apartment. The list, buried under the magazines and paint tubes and half-full cups of cold coffee on your table, called for you.

If by any stroke of luck you happened to share one interest with this guy, you promised yourself to give it one more try.

According to the list, that overlapping interest was the wonderful world of Gatsby Books –– a small, locally owned bookstore residing in the heart of D.C. ’s arts district. That neighborhood was smack in the middle of your’s and Spencer’s, and it was where the gallery you showcase at was.

You’d been meaning to get down there for a while now, anyways. It really was the cutest bookstore in the world; inside it lived a white, bushy-furred cat named Gatsby, and he was always there. After all, it was his bookstore.

It wasn’t such a burden to make your visit fit Spencer’s schedule, really. And it would make Penelope happy if you did. So on Saturday afternoon, you took a lovely walk through the sunny arts district of D.C., a smile on your face and a tote in hand for all the books you were planning on hauling back.

The smell of paper and coffee greeted your nose at the door, and you practically fell into a trance, letting it lead you through the aisles of the store without much thought of where you wandered. Not that it mattered, you could’ve roamed the shelves aimlessly all day long.

In the mystery and thrillers section, you found Gatsby. He jumped down from his perch on a step stool and weaved between your legs, greeting one of his long-time regulars. He was such a good shop owner.

“Hi, Mr. Gatsby.” You smiled and bent down to give him a little head scratch when he started running off in the other direction, taunting you into following him.

He rounded the corner and came to a stop at a pair of boot-clad feet; your eyes moved up to find your favorite employee (after Gatsby, of course) restocking the shelves.

“Miles!” you whispered, but he still jumped out of his skin. He turned around, hand still over his chest, and sighed when he realized it was just you. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” you laughed.

“Hey, long time, no see. Back for some more recommendations?” You ‘ooh’ed at his offer.

“I was just gonna say, the ones you gave me last time were so good. I finished them in, like, a week.”

“Really?” He smiled, brows happily up his forehead. You nodded in assent. “Okay, well I’ll give you more this time, see if the list’ll last you a little longer than that.”

You grinned eagerly, following him to the shop counter where he pulled out a stack of bright green post-its and a pen.

“I’ve actually been waiting for you to come in, I already had these in mind for you,” he mumbled, scrawling across the paper quickly. He handed the note over, and it took a moment to decipher the chicken scratches.

“Okay, first you gave me Al-Shayk and Bradbury. Now you’re giving me Chaucer, Dickens, and Doyle,” you recited the note, giving him a teasing look. “Are we just going through the alphabet, Miles?” you joked.

“Honest mistake. But I’d be happy to give you all the other twenty-two letters of the alphabet if needed.”

“I might hold you to that.” You nodded, folding the post-it in your palm to prevent the sticky backing from gunking up. It’d make quite the good bookmark for later. “Thanks for these!”

“No problem, just a part of the job.”

Nonetheless, you thanked him again before disappearing back into the aisles. You found Miles’ books as well as a few of your own and nearly lost yourself in the rows of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, until you made a turn. Standing in the middle of the next aisle was Spencer.

A week ago, he was the whole point of coming to the store. That day, you completely forgot about it, and it stopped you in your tracks to see him there. He was just standing in the middle of the walkway, staring blankly at the shelf in front of him.

“Excuse me,” you grinned, “Could you move?”

You thought it was a cute reference back to the laundry detergent fiasco, a chance for you to turn the tables, but he had no reaction to it whatsoever. His face was straight as he merely pivoted his shoulder out of your way as you reached for the book you needed; The Narrative of John Smith.

His eyes narrowed at you and his nostrils flared, and you wondered if it was called for because you grabbed the last copy they had in stock.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you want this?” you asked, waving the book in his face. He was just standing there for so long, you didn’t think he actually wanted anything since he never picked it up.

“No,” he said coldly.

Contrary to Penelope’s review, he didn’t actually seem that warm of a person. But you smiled tightly at him, letting a forced laugh fill the stale air.

“I… I swear I’m not stalking you,” you laughed, rubbing the back of your neck. Technically it was a bit of a lie, but he didn’t need to know. It’s just something people say when they have the happy coincidence of running into a stranger so often.

“What did you say to me?” he bit. His tone was sharper than you felt like this conversation deserves.

“I mean, I’ve just been seeing you around a lot… it was, like, a joke? Like, ‘ahh watch out, I’m stalking you!’ you know?” With each second he stared you down, you felt your throat dry out, getting more flustered as you felt the need to over explain yourself.

“Maybe you should work on your comedy routine,” he barked, his voice just faintly cracking. He shoulder-checked you as he rushed out of the store in long strides and a brisk pace.

What in the absolute fuck.

You couldn’t stay in the shop for another minute. You dropped your stack of books at the counter with Miles, giving him a rushed apology for leaving them behind as you stormed out of the shop and headed in the opposite direction of where Spencer ran off to.

The air outside was now frosty as the sun disappeared behind the horizon; the wind nipped at your hot cheeks as you charged home. There weren’t enough words to quantify the anger you felt. Your mind ran rampant with how much you now hated this man.

Not only did he bite your head off for no good reason, but he publicly embarrassed you at your favorite place and had gone so far as to bruise your shoulder to make a point. And you know what? If he really wanted you out of his way, you were more than happy to leave him the hell alone for the rest of your life.

You reached into your jacket pocket for your phone and dialed Penelope.

“Hey! How are––” she cheered.

“It’s off.”

“What?”

“It’s off. I’m not dating your fucking friend.”

“What happened? I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding––” she started in a panic. She pleaded that you overlook whatever went wrong and promised that she’d have a talk with Spencer about it. She’d try to encourage him into the direction that you need.

None of that registered in your brain, hot blood filling your ears instead of her words.

“He’s a fucking ass,” you spat. “The more I see of him, the less I like him, and… I’m pretty sure we’d rather kill each other than date at this point. So yeah, I’m done.”

☆

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latte-fairytaekwoon · 4 years

Text

𝑻𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒓'𝒔 𝑷𝒆𝒕 (𝑱𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒀𝒖𝒏𝒉𝒐) 𝑹𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫! 𝐘𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐨× 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐅𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞)

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐒𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞 𝐀𝐔

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 𝟒.𝟗𝐊

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬, 𝐘𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐃𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐞𝐱𝐡𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐦, 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 (𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠), 𝐮𝐧𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐱 (𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧), 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐃𝐨𝐦! 𝐘𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐨/ 𝐒𝐮𝐛! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫.

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭: @yunhoiseyecandy @multidreams-and-desires @galaxteez @hanatiny @deja-vux

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"Miss L/N? May I please have a word with you?"

While others would have already been sweating nervously at having their journalism professor single them out after they had just turned in an essay 2 days ago, the called out girl had a smug grin on her face that she did not care to hide as she practically strutted over to her teacher's desk. Looking over to make sure all the other students were gone and door was closed, she immediately pushed away some of the books on the edge of the desk before perching herself on it, one leg crossed over the over. Taking out the cherry tootsie pop from her mouth with a loud pop, she asked him:

"How can I be of service?" With a wink she put thr candy back in her mouth, making sure he could hear the sucking sound she made as she wrapped her lips around it.

He shook his head as he recognized the all too familiar tone in her voice that meant she was up to no good again.

"Don't start with me Y/N, you're already pushing your luck. First off......."

He tapped her exposed thigh with the tip of his pencil.

"You know I don't want you, or anyone sitting on my space. Second..."

One of his hands reached out and took away the lollipop from her mouth and dumped it in the trash bin under his desk.

"I've already told you no more eating in my classroom." He reminded her.

With a pout on her lips, she whined softly.

"But I was hungry! And besides.......I saw you staring at me in class as I sucked on it."

Clearing his throat, the black haired male adjusted his tie nervously, not thinking he got caught.

"You're very distracting at times." He excused himself.

Letting out a giggle, she scooted close to where she was sitting right in front of him, legs spread out enough that if he bent his neck, he'd be able to see right up her short plaid skirt and gaze at her bold choice of the pink lace panties he loved seeing on her during the nights she went over to his house. But he resisted the urge, instead keeping his face up and away from her lower bottom.

"Maybe you're just having trouble focusing cause you're too stressed......but I can help with that Yunho."

Feeling bolder than other days, she slipped off his desk and straddled one of his thick and massive thighs, her lips attaching themselves to his neck as one of her hands rested in between his legs, groping at his now hardening member that was bulging out of his khaki dress pants. Yunho bit back a moan, one of his hands instinctively reaching over to caress her thigh, drawing out circles before going further up her skirt, eyes scrunching together in confusion when he did not feel the material of the safety shorts she was supposed to wear. Feeling something soak his thigh as she slowly grinded down on it, his large hands gripped her thighs and got her off him, placing her back on his desk with a loud thud. She gasped softly when he lifted up her skirt and saw the familiar flower pattern covering her now soaking core, a visible wet patch in the middle of it. Yunho looked back at her with a disgruntled gaze.

"Surprise?" She batted her eyelashes at him rather innocently.

Letting out a huff, he pulled her skirt down before rummaging through his bag.

"Not only do you belatedly disobey dress code and wear a uniform skirt that's much too short, but you don't even wear your safety shorts?" He was beyond annoyed at this point, and Y/N knew it. Wanting to poke fun at him, she snorted.

"What? Afraid I'll bend over and someone else will see?"

Although she meant it as a joke, she immediately stopped laughing when he slapped her thigh.

"Yes."

She gulped as he stared her down. She could see the jealousy burning in his eyes, could also see the lust hidden behind him. He wanted nothing more than to bend her over that dammed furniture right then and spank her for even thinking about pulling off such a daring thing. But then he remembered where they were, the prestigious university he worked at and she studied in and calmed himself down, refusing to give in to her fantasy of having him fuck her in the very classroom where they met a year ago.

Taking a deep breath, he handed her a spare pair of shorts he kept with him.

"Go to the bathroom and put these on right now." He ordered her.

Looking at them, she chuckled.

"And just how did you know to keep a pair with you?" She inquired.

Smiling softly, he leaned down and brushed his nose against hers.

"I'm dating possibly the brattiest and most mischievous vixen in this school. I have to be prepared for anything."

With an innocent peck to her lips, he ushered her off his desk again.

"Now run along and do as I say. You're already on enough problems as it is, especially after you did utterly horrible on your last essay." He picked up a tiny stack of papers and waved it in front of her face.

Grimacing, she looked up at him.

"Does this mean I'm failing the semester?"

"I don't know...what do you think?" He questioned her.

Knowing she was screwed, she put on the cutest and most innocent puppy eyes she was capable of making and began playing with the tie across her teacher's neck.

"Please professor, don't you think you could be a little nice and give me a chance to make up for it?"

Leaning in, she whispered in his ear.

"Perhaps with one of those sloppy and messy blowjobs you love getting?"

Gulping slightly, Yunho gently pried her hands off him.

"Nice try Miss L/N, but if I'm going to be a fair teacher, I have to treat you the same as the others in these situations."

Her mouth dropped as he nonchalantly began packing his things to go have lunch in a teacher's lounge and hang out there until his next class.

"Seriously? Not even if I promise to do better or even bake you a cake?" She scoffed.

"Nope. And I'll remind you the last time you tried to bake me a cake, you nearly burned your eyebrows off." He let out a soft, deep laughter as he brushed past her to leave the room.

"But I'm your girlfriend!" She complained.

"And precisely because you're my girlfriend is why I want you to do better, even if it means failing you to get you to straighten up your act. Seriously princess, just because you're practically an heiress, doesn't mean I'll allow you to do as you please let alone give in to your every whim."

With a kiss to her forehead and a pat on her head he reminded her to behave and to follow his previous instructions of going to the bathroom before leaving her alone in the room.

Feeling fury rise up in her body, Y/N stormed out of the classroom and headed straight to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. Hating the fact her stubborn and hard headed boyfriend practically called her a spoiled brat, she locked herself in one of the stalls and proceeded to dip her hand inside her folds, rubbing furiously at the clit, desperately trying to get some relief from all the pent up sexual tension she'd been accumulating. Inserting a finger inside herself, she tried to imagine that it was one of her boyfriend's long fingers penetrating her, even though it was no where near the real thing. Sometimes she'd get wet during class from him just tapping his fingers on the whiteboard, picturing all the times he'd buried them deep inside her and had her squirting all over his arm.

She imagined him laughing in her ear, calling her a dirty little girl and teasing her for making such a mess of herself as his thumb continued to abuse her sensitive little nub. She released long and deep moans, not giving any fucks about if someone came in and found out what she was doing.

Frustrated at not being able to get herself off like she wanted to, she simply tore the lace panties off herself and threw them in the trash can. Stepping out of the stall, she reached for her bag to get the shorts she'd been ordered to put on, but suddenly stopped. Still upset and not getting her way, Y/N zipped her bag back up and adjusted her skirt. With a little shrug, she calmly walked out the bathroom and headed to her next class. On her way over, she accidentally dropped her phone which sent her panicking for a moment.

"Please don't be broken." She was screwed if she broke the third phone her parents bought her in less than a month.

Bending over, she flipped it over and let out a sigh of relief as the screen was intake and still working. Standing upright, she stuffed it back in her bag and continued along as if nothing was the matter, as if she wasn't already late to class....

As if she totally didn't just get caught in her little scandalous lack of clothes.

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Yunho calmly picked up some of his lunch on his fork, ignoring the usual snickering and gossip of his seniors who were seated on the table next to his. He had to fight back the urge to roll his eyes or groan dramatically at their nonsense.

"It was so hot." Seonghwa, the social science teacher laughed.

Hongjoong, who was the visual and performing arts teacher, leaned in to whisper, not so discreetly since Yunho could still hear him perfectly.

"I know. I nearly dropped my books when I saw her ass on display. I wanted to go over there and smack it." He admitted unashamedly.

"Oh my God did you catch a glimpse of her pussy? I'm pretty sure it was soaking and fuck.....I just wanted to have a taste."

Yunho cringed when the older male swiped his obnoxiously long tongue across his lips.

"I bet she tastes so good and I bet her pussy is so fucking tight. I'd totally fuck her if I got the chance."

Seonghwa agreed with Hongjoong's words.

"She'd probably let you. I mean.....if she bold enough to come to this oh so holy school with those extremely short skirts and not wear underwear, I'm pretty sure she'd fuck around with a teacher or two." He added.

"Wasn't there a rumor circulating last year about her hitting on a teacher or something?" Hongjoong tried to remember.

Seonghwa shrugged.

"Wouldn't surprise me if it was true. And it wouldn't surprise me if any teacher accepted her advances. L/N Y/N is a seriously gorgeous girl, I don't think anyone could resist her."

Yunho dropped his fork when he heard her name, his blood boiling now as he replayed all their words now in a different light as he realized they were talking about his girlfriend. Grabbing his lunch, he quickly stood up and threw it in the trash, suddenly not feeling hungry anymore, but instead feeling angry and furious. Checking his time, he knew she was about to come out of her next class any minute now, so he waited for her outside his classroom, arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently.

When she finally turned the corner, his eyes narrowed in on her, more specifically on her skirt. Sauntering over to her, he caught her off guard when he gripped her wrist harshly and dragged her inside the classroom, leaving her confused and wondering what had gotten into him. Making sure to lock the door behind him, Yunho pinned Y/N to the wall and in a flash lifted her skirt up, his face reddening as he confirmed it indeed was her that Seonghwa and Hongjoong were gushing and lusting about.

"Did I not specifically instruct you to put on the safety shorts?"

She shivered at the harsh tone he was speaking to her with.

"I...well, yes but-"

She let out a squeal when his fist banged on the concrete next to her face.

"Then explain to me why not only did you disobeyed me, but you actually went off parading around the school with absolutely nothing to cover that drenched cunt of yours."

She was absolutely speechless at his demeanor, she had never seen him this angry before and she wasn't going to lie, it was quickly arousing her.

"Yunho...Yunho I'm-"

He cut her off by pressing his lips against hers, one hand gripping her jaw as his tongue poked out to invade her mouth, as his other hand hiked her skirt up, a finger sliding across her folds.

"Don't fucking tell me you're sorry. We both know whores like you aren't build to feel regret."

His mouth silenced the sounds that came out if her as a result of him slipping one of fingers inside her, the very thing she had been craving all day.

"Oh fuck..." She breathed out when he gave her no chance to adjust as he shoved a second finger inside, circling them around to stretch her walls out.

"Hmmm yeah. That's all you think about don't you? Your head is just filled with thoughts of getting fucked."

She couldn't resist it as she began rolling her hips, wanting him to fuck his fingers deeper inside her.

"Is that why you allowed Professor Seonghwa and Hongjoong to see you like that? Did you purposefully bend over to let them see your filthy hole? Hmm? I bet you did it on purpose."

She opened her eyes and gasped harshly when he then added a third finger, the wet noises her pussy was making now becoming louder.

"Wh-what?" She managed to get out a single word.

Yunho grunted as he shoved his fingers deeper in her, almost tempted to shove his entire fist inside.

"Don't play dumb. They saw you bending over and saw your lack of underwear. I had to hear their bullshit talk of wanting to eat your pussy and fucking it." He let out a low growl as he recalled their lewd words, sending him into an angry mode once again, prompting him to move his lips from her mouth to proceed with an attack to her neck, sucking on all her sensitive spots.

"Did you want that? Did you want fucking Park Seonghwa to eat out that pussy of yours? Or did you want Kim Hongjoong to hit it from the back as he slapped your ass red?"

Before Y/N knew it, she was releasing such erotic noises as she threw her head back, gasping out as an unexpected orgasm took over her. Yunho also couldn't believe how unbelievably fast she came, and he was beyond pissed as he realized that he helped her get off to the thought of someone who wasn't him. Pulling his fingers out of her, he squished her cheeks, the remnants of her cum now plastered on the sides of her face.

"Did you seriously just cum at the thought of those two assholes?!"

Without a warning, he lifted her up and roughly sat her on his desk.

"Do I need to remind you who you belong to? Who this pussy belongs to?!"

Spreading her legs as wide as they could go, Yunho dropped to his knees and buried his face in her heat, tongue poking out to suck off all the juices his hands had her spilling out from before. He had no shame as he spilled out almost animalistic sounds as began slurping hungrily at her heat, paying close attention to her clit.

"No one but me gets to eat your pussy out. No one can make you get you like this but me." Pulling away, he spit onto her clit before diving back in, moaning erratically to send vibrations into her mound.

Y/N's chest began rising up and as her breathing became more labored. Her hands tried reaching for his head to try and grind herself against his face, but he harshly slapped them away.

"Keep them up or I'll tie them up." He hissed at her.

Wanting to keep herself from being tempted to move them back to his head, she opted to place them on her chest, kneading at her breasts as Yunho continued to devour her, tongue flicking in and out of her core. She felt herself ready to burst at any moment, and Yunho knew it too. He waited til she was a mere slurp away from cumming before removing himself, earning a frustrated groan from her.

"Yunho!"

She sat up to complain, but his hand wrapped around her neck and pushed her back on the desk, causing a choked gasp to get caught in her throat.

"Shut up you slut. You'll get and take what I decide to give you and you're in no place to complain. I'm still upset at you failing and livid at you being a slutty exhibitionist."

Pulling her up by her hair, he got her off the desk and shoved her to her knees, placing himself in front of her. He had a sadistic look as he began undoing his belt.

"I believe you offered to suck me off a few hours before......well I'm taking you up on that offer. Suck me off and I'll let you cum. Show me what the mouth of yours can do."

She was nearly drooling when his red tip came out, brushing against her nose. It was painfully erect and leaking precum. Wrapping her hand around it, she made sure to spit on it and coat it generously so her hand could stroke him more easily. She looked up at him, sending him a mischievous smile as she began taking him in her mouth. Her eyes never left his face as she sunk his whole length into her mouth, gagging a little when she reached the base, Yunho inhaling deeply as she proved yet again that she was more than capable of stuffing him down her throat. She began bobbing her head, swallowing around the head while her hand worked on the rest of his dick.

Yunho let her do as she pleased, wanting to get her as relaxed as possible before he commenced his plan. Silently, he removed the belt completely off his pants, making move as if he was going to place it on the desk behind her. While she was distracted, he suddenly removed her from his length, a trail of saliva dripping down her chin.

"Ok.....since you obviously can't seem to do it, let me give you a few private lessons."

Y/N slightly panicked when he wrapped the belt around her neck, using it as makeshift leash and collar. He harshly pressed her back into him.

"Open that mouth of yours."

Following his orders, she opened up as wide as she could. Wasting no time, Yunho slammed his cock back inside her mouth, hips moving at a fast pace as he began to fuck her face, hand never letting go of the long strap. Y/N hollowed her cheeks out, gagging and releasing choking sounds every time he hit the back of her throat. Yunho snickered amusedly as he watched drool pour out of her mouth, prompting him to go even rougher on her.

"That's it, just like that-fuck!"

He shut his eyes tightly, eyebrows furrowed as he began chasing his own release. The girl underneath him moaned uncontrollably as he tightened the belt around her, feeling his spurts of cum flowing down her throat.

"Swallow it all you slut. I don't want you spitting any of it out."

Holding her head in place, he made sure he had emptied himself completely before pulling out of her, her lips red and swollen as she gasped for air. Inhaling deeply, she stuck her tongue out to show she had indeed swallowed all of his cum, prompting Yunho to caress her cheek affectionately.

"Good girl......."

Cocking his head to the side, he easily lifted her up into his arms.

"But you're not off the hook just yet."

Y/N stuck her hands out to keep her face from slamming too harshly into the desk, cheek pressed on the cold surface as she felt Yunho lift her skirt higher to expose her ass. She looked over and noticed him loosing up his tie, tearing it off him before grabbing both of her hands and placing them behind her back, wrapping the tie around them and rendering them unable to move. "Look at you, looking so small and pliant...... like you aren't some filthy little whore."

He began to slowly tease her, slapping his massive cock onto her cheeks and then sliding it across her slick folds. Y/N pushed her ass more out, wanting him to just shove it inside her.

"Oh, are you desperate to cum little one? You want my big fat cock inside you to fuck you dumb?" He cooed at her.

She immediately nodded.

"Yes! Please Yunho! Fuck me dumb!" She begged him, wiggling her ass for him to give in.

She began whining when he still made no move to give in.

"Yunho! Would you please-Ahh!"

With no warning, he tore right inside her, hips setting a rough and fast pace. Y/N tried to grip the desk but was reminded about the fact her hands were bound behind her back. Frantic and staggered moans came out of her mouth as Yunho kept hitting her g-spot, making her previous ruined orgasm suddenly spike up once again. He noticed it too, feeling how her walls began squeezing around him.

"Go ahead. Cum, I know you want to."

Needing no further instruction, she came all over his cock, a long drawn out mewl of his name all she could say as she panted heavily as she was coming down from her high. She had no time to relax though as Yunho simply sped up his thrusts, taking advantage of her sensitive state.

"Y-Yunho no! Please! T-too much!" She cried out, earning her a slap on her ass.

"Shut up! You wanted to come so badly? And I'm happy to deliver."

His grunts and her piercing screams could probably be heard all the way across the hallway, but neither of them cared, Y/N because she got him to finally break and him because he got to claim her as his own. Taking a hold of one of her thighs, he lifted her leg up to rest on the desk, hitting even deeper inside her. Letting out ragged and hoarse grunts, Yunho slightly pulled Y/N up using the belt around her neck.

"Tell me who's fucking you this hard? Who's making you feel this good? Hmm? Answer me!" He smacked her ass once again.

Y/N tried to answer, but all that came out was incoherent gibberish, unable to form any words. Yunho couldn't help but release an evil laugh at the state she was in.

"Awww. I really did fuck you dumb. You can't even remember any words. Let me help you refresh your memory."

She let out a shriek when his hand came down to slap her ass.

"A."

He smacked her once again.

"B."

A third slap resonated through the room.

"C."

She had tears falling at this point from her eyes due to the overstimulation and from the seering pain on her bum from how hard his hand was slamming down on it as he continued to say the alphabet out loud for her. She knew he was definitely going to leave more than a few hand prints on it. He was barely getting to the letter 'N' when she began spasming underneath him.

"Yunho! Stop! I'm-fuck!"

She couldn't control herself as she began squirting from how hard he was thrusting in her, a pool of her liquids forming on the floor. When Yunho saw, he let out a groan of accomplishment, feeling smug at getting her to burst out of control. He wasn't satisfied though, he was nowhere near done with her. Not changing his pace at all, he continued his relentless attack on her throbbing and swollen pussy, one hand holding her down in place while the other went to stuff his fingers inside her mouth.

"I know how much you love my fingers. Such a slut for them. You get horny just by watching them during class."

He felt her muffled moans on his fingertips, followed by a choked out grunt when he pushed the deeper in her mouth.

"Tell me? Do you even remotely think Seonghwa or Hongjoong can compete with me? Can they?!"

Whimpering pathetically, she shook her head as she felt another spurts of liquid drip down her thighs. She was beyond worn out at this point, but wanting to push her past her limit, Yunho began untying her hands.

"Look at you making such a mess on the floor. Tell me if anyone can make you drip as much as I do? Can anyone make you cum for yet a fifth time?"

He took out his fingers from her mouth to let her try and talk.

"Please! Yunho! I c-cant! Can't!" She wailed.

Her pleas fell on deaf ears as he flipped her onto her back, holding her legs up onto his wide shoulders and quickly slipping inside her once again.

"Yes you can and you will. I know a little cumslut like you can give me one more, just as messy as the last two."

At this point, her nails were raking along the wood underneath her, her vision blurry from all the overwhelming pleasure she was enduring, her thighs aching from how hard his fingers were gripping on them, prints no doubt were going to be left on them, evidence of all that happened in those 4 walls. She was no longer aware of anything around her, the only thing she could hear was the sound of their sweaty skin slapping against each other and the squealching sounds coming from where they were connected. She muttered something incoherent which she could not even understand herself, but Yunho knew what she was trying to say.

"Come on. Give it to me. Make a mess all over me and then I'll fill up your dirty little hole with my cum."

His thrusts were erratic and sloppy at this point, hand coming down to slap her throbbing and reddened clit, causing her to jolt and squirt all over him once again, her body thrashing and quivering as she tried to move away from him but he just held her in place. With a few more thrusts, he shakily came undone, his hot and thick cum coating inside her walls.

"Fuck! Shit!"

His body collapsed on top of hers, breath hitching as he wheezed slightly. After a few minutes, he got up, bangs sticking to his forehead, sweat trickling down his cheeks and nape of his neck. She was in no better state than him, hair all disheveled and too dazed out to even think. Pulling out of her, a light trickle of liquids came out, falling onto the puddle that was already there.

"Oh my god." Yunho was astonished by the mess they created, unable to stop the shy giggle from escaping his mouth.

Pulling his pants back up, not caring about the wet stains all over it, he turned his attention back to his girlfriend. Bending down, he cupped her cheeks and began peppering kisses all over her face, fingers moving the hair away from her forehead.

"You ok my little princess?" He checked on her.

"Tired......can't...move." Through labored breathing she managed to answer him.

"Don't worry my tiny doll. I'll take you back to my place and take proper care of you."

Grabbing her limp arms, he wrapped them around his neck before lifting her up as if she was nothing more than a piece of paper. Y/N mumbled something with a whiny tone as she buried her face in his neck. Yunho chuckled as he processed her words.

"Well......ok. Just because I kinda feel bad at the state you're in, I'll give you another chance to redo your essay. But I want it turned in before the week is over ok?"

She nodded softly, arms clinging tighter around his neck as they walked through the empty hallways.

"And you say you're not the type to have a teacher's pet." She poked his chest slightly.

"Ya, behave or I'll punish you little pet." He gave her a halfhearted warning, that he knew he'd never follow through on after her heard her fussy little whine.

As they were nearing the exit, they were caught by none of than Seonghwa and Hongjoong, who were talking amongst themselves and stared in shock when they saw them together. Yunho protectively moved one of his hands underneath her thighs to press her flowing skirt to her body, not willing to allow them another glimpse at what was rightfully his. With a completely calm demeanor, he smiled at them.

"Hey guys. Don't mind us, we're just going home so if you'll excuse us."

Walking past them, he tried so hard not to laugh at their shocked and bewildered expressions.

"Oh! By the way, if you see the custodian, tell them I'm sorry about the mess."

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mrs-gucci · 3 years

Text

Dress Drop-Off {Mr. Pennyham (SNL “Sleepover”skit) x college age!Reader}

author’s notes: hello, hello! this is inspired by something that @glassbxttless posted (linked HERE) about mr. pennyham fucking his daughter’s best friend & college roommate (shoutout to @peachyproserpina for sending the ask in). it destroyed me. I have not stopped thinking about it. so, here I am, writing a mr. pennyham fic.

**I take absolutely no credit for coming up with the name “Peter” for Mr. Pennyham. I regretfully do not know which author coined it, but it wasn’t me, so full credit to whoever did. and the name “Aidy” for mr. pennyham’s daughter is (I believe) a creation of @ohiobluetip, so credit to them for that.**

warnings: smut. general filth. mr. pennyham is a dilf. rough blowjobs. face-fucking. friends with benefits-type scenario. some praise. use of a clit vibrator. fingering.

tw’s: !!significant age gap (RC is 21+, Peter is ~50). infidelity/extramarital affair.

word count: 1.6k

my taglist peeps: @frank-and-honey @shygirl268 @icarusinthesea @gildedstarlight @mrs-zimmerman (if you’d like to be added to or removed from my taglist, the link to the google form is HERE or on the top of my masterlist.)

“See ya later!” Aidy says, grabbing her backpack and slinging it over her shoulder. “Oh, my dad might swing by to drop something off in like fifteen minutes or so. Would you mind letting him in?”

You nod, smiling. “Sure, yeah, no problem at all. I’ll be here.”

Mr. Pennyham is coming over, but it isn’t just to drop off Aidy’s dress for the semi-formal this weekend. You and Peter have been seeing each other for a few weeks now. Well, seeing each other naked is the better way to put it.

He and his wife are having some marital issues, you’re pretty sure divorce has been in the conversation repeatedly, and you wanted to be there for him as much as you could. You didn’t think that meant fucking him, but you don’t mind. The two of you have always had somewhat of a special connection, you just thought it was platonic up until that night a few weeks ago when he pinned you down on the couch and fucked you stupid.

You quickly scramble to change into something a bit more presentable and attractive, grabbing your see-through mesh bra and panty set, slipping them on before pulling one of his button-ups out of the back of your closet.

A knock comes on the door just as you’ve slid the oversize shirt on and buttoned a few of the buttons.

Not wanting to risk anything, aka Aidy coming back and finding you in her dad’s shirt with lingerie on underneath, you peek through the peephole, seeing Mr. Pennyham standing there with a garment bag.

Your eyes instantly meet his when you unlock and open the door. “Mr. P...Aidy said you’d be stopping by to drop off her dress.”

His gaze lingers over your form, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. He steps through the threshold, a rush of cologne looming in his wake, overwhelming your senses in the best possible way.

The dress is hung on her bedroom doorknob before he sits down on the small couch in your living room, legs spread a bit. He looks over at you, eyes shimmering with lust and hunger.

“C’mere, kiddo.” He pats his thick, khaki-clad thighs.

You bite your lip as you waltz over, taking a seat just above his knees, teasing him. He huffs, large hands quickly grabbing your ass cheeks, yanking you forward onto his lap.

“You know we don’t have enough time for teasing.” He growls in your ear, planting a single, searing kiss to that spot behind your ear. “Behave, little princess, or I’ll have to punish you the next time we're together like this.”

A shiver is sent down your spine, his beard hairs tickling your skin as his lips move down to assault your neck. He knows he can’t leave any marks in visible places, but he still likes to kiss your neck, regardless.

Your back arches slightly when lips mouths at your clothed breast and hardening nipple, a shaky sigh leaving your lips. Your hands tangle further in his graying hair, tugging the strands, earning you a deep guttural growl from Peter.

His fingers quickly pop the buttons of his shirt, pushing the garment off your shoulders, tossing it aside. He licks his lips at the sight of the sheer bra and your perky nipples popping up from beneath.

“Look at these pretty tits, princess.” He swipes the pads of his thumbs over the hardened buds, smirking when your breath hitches. “So eager.”

You subtly press your hips forward, gently rocking back and forth over his erection. Surprisingly, he doesn’t stop you, instead running his hands over your curves until they land on your thighs. He kneads the skin for a moment before landing a harsh smack on them, which makes you jump.

“On your knees, kiddo.”

His hands make quick work of his belt and the button on his pants, pushing the zipper down at a teasingly casual pace. His hand dips down beneath his plaid boxers and wraps around the base of his thick, veiny cock, giving it a few pumps before pulling it out.

You’re drooling at the sight, dropping down to your knees, sliding up between his spread legs. He smacks the mushroom head against your cheeks before his thumb presses down against your lower lip, encouraging your mouth to open.

He runs his thumb over your tongue, smirking as his other hand continues pumping his shaft. “This tight little mouth is gonna be the death of me, sweet girl.”

You whimper at his words, lips wrapping around his thumb, sucking and licking the digit gently, teasingly. He groans softly and begins to move it back and forth.

“So fucking desperate, aren’t you, princess? So desperate for my cock in your mouth that you start sucking my thumb...” He suddenly pulls it out of your mouth, quickly replacing it with his cock, smearing the precum gathered at his slit over your lips.

His hand wraps around the back of your head as he scoots forward on the couch, finger pads gently rubbing your scalp. Your mouth opens to accept his length and he eases into your mouth slowly, a soft shaky breath emerging from his lips.

“Mmmmmmmm.”

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as your mouth is stuffed full of Peter’s cock. You’re pretty much adapted to his large, thick length, so you barely gag when he forces every inch of himself into your mouth.

Peter stays there for a moment, then wastes no time guiding your head up and down his stiff rod. He grunts softly with each bob of your head, head falling back against the couch cushions, Adam’s apple bobbing with each harsh swallow he takes.

“O-Oh fuuuuuck, kiddo.” He groans, hips beginning to move up in time with your strokes. “Such a good little mouth, stretching out so fucking well for me.”

You moan around him, sucking a bit harder. His hips suddenly buck up out-of-rhythm and his hand leaves the back of your head, instead gripping the couch cushions.

His hips quickly take over, and you still your motions as he creates his own rhythm. You love seeing him take control, lose himself like this. Your eyes are glued to his face, watching it contort in pleasure as his hips rock up into your mouth at an urgent pace.

It’s not long before his thrusts become desperate and sloppy, noises steadily getting louder.

“Mmmmfffuuuuck, I’m close. Gonna shove my c-cum down your tight little t-throat, make you taste it f-for the rest of the day.”

With only a few more thrusts, he’s cumming, strangled groans accompanying each rope of seed shot down your throat. You moan, swallowing each and every drop eagerly.

You pull off after stroking him through his climax, standing up. Before you can make any kind of movement or say anything, he sits up and cups your ass with his massive hands, kissing your lower abdomen.

“Grab your little clit vibrator for me, princess.” He says against your skin.

Nodding, you rush over to your dresser, pulling out your clit vibrator. You hand it to him and he smirks, tucking himself back into his pants.

“Lay back against me, keep your legs spread.”

You do as he says, laying back against his strong chest, holding your legs open by keeping your hands holding below the backs of your knees. His beard tickles your neck again while he reaches around and presses the vibrator against your clit, holding the power button to activate the small device.

“Oh!” You gasp, back arching.

Peter smirks against your skin, gently beginning to move the toy in circles over the sensitive nub, enjoying the small noises that escaped with almost every one of his motions.

Your eyes squeeze shut, but suddenly fly open a few moments later when he lines up and pushes two of his thick digits into your soaked entrance. He lazily scissors them inside you while he turns the vibrator up a setting.

“M-Mr. Pennyham!” You moan softly, moving your hips in time with the silicon toy. “Ohhhhh my god...shit.”

His lips place sloppy, open-mouthed kisses all over the skin of your neck while his motions get quicker. His fingers begin stroking your walls with a pleasurable in-and-out pace.

The combination of his thick fingers pumping and the vibrations from the toy brings you up to the edge rather quickly. You’re panting; breathless as you grind yourself up against his ministrations.

“I’m g-gonna cum.” You breathe, eyes squeezing shut. “Gonna cu--ah!”

Your orgasm hits with a sudden intensity when he turns the vibrator up to the highest setting while his fingers curl up inside you, brushing against the special spot on your walls.

You bounce on top of him, grinding on his his fingers as you ride out your climax. He pulls the vibrator away and tosses it aside after feeling you begin to journey into overstimulation territory.

He holds and squeezes your hips and continues to kiss your neck as you come down from your high.

“I should probably get going, kiddo. Aidy will be back soon and she can’t catch us like this.”

You sigh, nodding as you roll over off him, standing on shaky legs. He gives your ass a playful smack and plants a kiss on your cheek as he buckles his belt and prepares for his leave.

Before he walks out the door, though, he pauses and turns around. “I’ll see you this weekend for the birthday party, right?”

“Yes, sir. I’ll be there.” You nod.

His lips pull up into a small smile and he nods. “See you then, kiddo.”

“See you.”

#mrs-gucci #mrs-gucci writes ad snl characters #adcu #adcu community #adcu fanfiction #adcu fanfic #mr. pennyham snl #mr. pennyham #adam driver snl #adam driver snl character #mr. pennyham x reader #mr. pennyham x you #mr. pennyham x reader smut #mr. pennyham smut #tw: age gap #tw: age difference #tw: infidelity

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messwriting · 4 years

Text

summer day | kuroo t.

Summary: Kuroo is a bad boy. Allegedly.

Note: KUROO MODERN FAMILY AU. Small drabble. MARRIED FLUFF. I just saw that episode and Kuroo as Phil planted itself in my mind, I take no responsibility in it. The only warnings in this is Kuroo’s fashion sense and him being repeatedly owned by his girls.

You watch from some distance while your horrible new neighbors start wreaking havoc in front of their houses in a disguise of washing their two flame clad pickups and huge ass quadricycle. The worst part being their teenage boy's sense of fashion, in ripped jeans hanging low on his hip bones and the sleeveless black shirt paired with the plaid jacket tied on his waist. Enough amount of silver rings and metal chains to set the metal detectors in any airport and long hair close to his shoulders needing nicer conditioning. Paired with his fashion sense it’s your younger genius daughter’s standards because the bad boy act of the long-haired boy it’s working for her, having your otherwise uninterested girl blushing after he says something to her that you can’t quite hear but has been on the receiving end during your young years enough to know it’s flirty by the way he looks at her through his downcast eyes and mischievous smile.

You grunt - a literal, high pitched grunt - from where you are standing, repressing the urge to throw the mug you’re holding at the boy’s head. From inside the house, your older daughter laughs as if she’s accusing you of being overprotective and maybe she is.

You truly don’t have favorites between your three kids, but you do have an urge to protect your genius daughter more than the other and to baby your young and only son from time to time. Your older has always been more independent, fearless, and popular, maybe not so bright on paper, but the definition of street smart and you sometimes wonder if that’s because you got pregnant with her while just finishing college and both of you had to learn lots of things by yourselves.

As if on cue, your husband comes behind you, grin on his lips, and quick to pick up on your annoyance at the flirting going on just a few meters away.

“I thought you’d be happy that she’s making friends with the neighbors.” Kuroo offers while giving you a kiss to your temple, a habit of years of dating preserved even after years of marriage.

“I’d prefer if she despised the neighbors as she does her, and I quote, ‘inaccurate biology teacher’.” You move your finger as you remember your daughter moving it while telling you how insufferable her biology teacher was and how the hell didn’t he knew that whatever thing did the other whatever thingy, was she an absolute illiterate?!

“The one from before the AP-bio?” Kuroo muses, lips jutting while he thinks back, a frown telling you he does remember your younger daughter hate for that particular teacher.

“Yeah.”

“Wow. That’s ruthless. The neighbors would be appalled.” You smile at his suggestion, bringing your mug to your lips and Kuroo laughs at your mischief.

“I just…” You start and throw your hands to the air in frustration. “When it’s the bad boy phase going to pass? Can’t we just skip it to the captain of whatever team phase?”

“Oh, we do know how much you prefer the captain of whatever team’s phase.” Your husband coos, wiggling his eyebrows knowingly, a sly grin on his lips. “You’ve been stuck in it for years.”

You scoff. Rolls your eyes at him. Look at your daughter now trying to look inconspicuous while she subtle watches the neighbor kid washing his overpriced and flashy quadricycle.

“Can’t he even be more ridiculous? He could just have the standard bad boy motorcycle, but no. Not enough. He needs a quadricycle.”

“C’mon, she’s our genius girl. She’ll snap out of it when he fails on algebra or something.”

“Please. Look at those abs.” Comes your older daughter retort, eyeing both you and your husband with all the shades of judgment. “She’s already smart, maybe she wants something else.”

“Oh god.” You literally groan. And honestly, you’ve been her age. You’ve had your fair share of staring at pretty and strong boys running and doing their boyish things (not to say doing other things with said pretty and strong boys), you get it. Just… does it have to be him?

From their front lawn barbecue and through blasting music, his mother - your neighbor - smiles at you and waves, all shades of fake. You hold in the hiss right when it’d pass your lips. Okay, so maybe your problem isn’t the kid.

“You know, you’re a tough one to figure out.” Kuroo says closer to your ear in his best attempt to sound sexy and alluring. He could’ve succeeded - if it weren’t for the khaki pants and button-up short-sleeves floral shirt while he drinks the brightest pink drink ever with a yellow umbrella. Laidback Sunday attire. Says he. You just turn to him with a curved eyebrow and questioning look.

“And why is that?” Somehow you crack a smile at his face - all expectancy wrapped in a boyish glint that makes him look years younger. Maybe reminiscent of your college years.

“You don’t like bad boys and yet -” There’s a clear pause for dramatic purpose while he grins at you suggestively. “You married one.”

You groan, again, and tries to fight the urge to facepalm.

“I thought we’d had the falling contraceptives to blame for that.” Comes your older daughter remark, with an eyebrow raised much like your own.

“Hey!” Kuroo squawks while you laugh and try to hold your shoulders from trembling too hard with it.

“It’s your snappy genes. Don’t even look at me.” You hold your hands upwards and smiles amused while moving closer to where your older is sitting while snapping pictures of the summer day for her insta, probably. Your middle one is finally wrapping her talk with the neighbor after noticing how crowded the front of the house suddenly got.

“I thought we had my genes to blame for their geniality.” Kuroo sighs and all the eyes are on him.

“You wish.” Comes the joint response of the three women in his life. Completed with lookalike faces and judgmental looks.

Kuroo gasp, dramatic as ever.

“I feel ganged upon!” Kuroo half-yells and smiles, tender. He gets whoever’s closer to him, being your oldest, and mess up her hair between her cries of protests and glares.

“Girls stay together in this household.” You conclude, crossing your arms while you watch as both your daughters go inside the house after your husband's antics. Though your middle one is clearly laughing at your older expenses.

You kind of feel old and have the urge to go back to a time where they’d both would come running to your arms, instead. You don’t know if Kuroo notices your mood or if he’s just being as affectionate as ever, but you don’t even blink before his arms are involving you in a strong hug. Your husband smiles down at you, proud and happy and all shades of lovingly and murmurs against your skin while laying a kiss on your temple: “As they should.”

#kuroo fluff #kuroo x reader #kuroo modern family au #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo haikyuu #kuroo hq #kuroo tetsuro fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu!!#look i have a thing for kuroo being the dorkest dad alive #messwriting

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wafflesetc · 4 years

Text

I’ll be there for you, Chapter 6 (previously)

A/N: This one is long. So buckle up! I owe a kidney to @kkruml who has looked at about 6 different versions of this. And to @walkinginland and @happytoobserve who also read multiple versions, held my hand through some tough parts, and gave encouragement along the way. I couldn’t do it without you guys. And you know, the end of this chapter is a little NSFW. I mean, most people are working from home now.. But you’ve been warned.

The One With The First Fight (Part 2)

Jamie 2:30 AM

He looked down at the screen of his phone.

‘Just tell me you are safe.’

He had said things he hadn’t meant. He had said things that were sore. He had said words that he knew would haunt him for the rest of his life.

He thought back to growing up and having fights with Jenny. His Mam used to tell them to take back the words they had spoken to one another, that they were brother and sister, by tomorrow all would be forgotten because- that’s what family does.

He closed his eyes and took a sip of whisky. The bar was still somewhat alive, even for a Tuesday night. He could picture her right there almost as if she were standing right next to him: The bright red hair he had inherited from her, her soft grey eyes and that strong brow his sister had. He could see it: her hands on her hips, the small raise of her brow and a glare in her eyes that scared him deep into the marrow of his bones from the time he was a small lad.

“Ye are not here to help me with this one, mam.” He whispered to himself.

He knew better than to storm out in a rage, yet this was uncharted territory. He and Claire had moved so fast there had barely been time to realize that they had yet to set some boundaries in regards to their relationship. And Claire- the stubborn, fierce, strong woman that she was, was carrying newfound cargo- a life that was half of him, half of her. It was a surreal and sobering thought, the idea of bringing a new life into this world. Someone he’d have to love unconditionally, someone who’d need him for the rest of his. And by some miracle, it was also not just this small life, but Claire that was in it with him. She was no doubt his forever, surely he did have a small say in some matters.

He took another drink of his whisky, emptying the contents. He raised the glass signaling the bartender for another round.

Just this one more and then he’d go home.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and a familiar voice in his ear, “Fancy seeing you out.”

He turned to find Mary smiling at him. He saw the glimmer of a ring on her finger. A small sense of relief flooded through him. It wasn’t that he’d dodged a bullet, but in some ways he was thankful for Mary for letting him go- for she was the reason his daft mind finally made all the pieces click- that he’d been in love with Claire from the beginning. He was thankful she’d seemed to find the same happiness he had found.

“Looks like congratulations is in order.”

“Ah yes,” She took the seat next to him. “It was rather quick but I guess when you know, you know.”

The bartender arrived asking what she wanted. “A whisky, neat please.” She hung her purse on the edge of her barstool and smiled, “How are things with you?”

“Och,” He let out in a small Scottish grunt. “I am sitting alone in a bar in the middle of the night, how do ye think it’s going?”

“I know you, Jamie…” The server placed her drink in front of her and Mary reached for it, taking the first swig. He looked at her with pleading eyes, a sense of helplessness running through him.

“You’re a good man- a loyal one no less. I also ran into John at the store a few weeks back, he said you and Claire were finally together.”

“We are.” He smiled ruefully and took a sip of his own drink. “Happened rather quickly, but we are… And uh, we’re actually expecting too.” Jamie felt the tips of his ears burning.

“Seems like you sure move fast then too!” Mary grabbed her tumbler and tipped towards him, “Cheers then.”

“Uh…Cheers.” He attempted to seem like he was in good spirits, but he could tell Mary knew it was just a facade.

“Still, you’re not a man who tends to sit at a bar, alone, in the middle of the week.”

“And ye are no’ a woman to be here in the middle of the night like this either.”

She laughed at that and nodded, “You’re right. My fiance’s flight is delayed because of a mechanical problem… If I had gone home I would fall asleep. Figured I would catch a dram before I get him.” She took a swig of her own beverage. “But you, look like you need to talk.”

“It’s a long story…” He tried to stop there but she raised a brow at him and ordered another round of drinks.

And it came pouring out him-all of it. He hadn’t known he needed to talk about- least of all his ex girlfriend- but apparently he did. He told her about Claire- how she grew up, how she became a doctor, how he had moved in with her, how they had happened. She listened and listened, and finally once he was done speaking shook his head at her in sheer exasperation.

“Ye are a smart man, Jamie Fraser, but ye sure are a daft one sometimes.” He saw her laugh at him.

“I need ye to explain that one, lass.”

Her breath shook as her phone buzzed on the counter. “You are right- she needs to be more careful and she needs to listen to your concerns… But Jamie, she also is right. She’s a doctor and a good one from what I hear. She won’t do anything that would harm her or your child intentionally, but it’s her body. Only Claire can be the one to know when enough is enough.”

Mary stood and pushed her barstool in. “Neither one of you wants to concede to the other and I’m not saying there’s a winner in this fight, but Jamie… Giving her space and allowing her to be in control seems to be a big piece of who she is. This is all as new to her as it is to you, except she’s the one who’s growing the human.”

“So what is it ye are telling me to do?”

“Weel, I am telling you, that you need to tell her how you feel- but you need to be okay with whatever her decision is. It’s teamwork and compromise. You’ll find your balance, you both will.”

And with a smile she hugged him and was on her way. He felt a sense of peace rush through him, in some ways he thought it was almost relief. He would forever owe Mary for making him realize what he had with Claire. Mary had been good and kind to him, nurturing his soul in ways that he wasn’t sure he would ever fully understand. Yet, through the ups and the downs there had always been the one constant piece in all of it.

Claire. Sorcha.

He threw the cash on the bar top and shook his head knowing exactly where he was headed.

Ye wee daft man, ye must go and repent yer words while you still can.

Claire 4:45 AM

I heard the deadbolt.

He turned it slowly and opened the door. I knew he would know I was waiting for him. He always had a keen sense of things like that.

“And just where do you think you’ve been?” I finally asked once the door was closed.

I watched as he tossed his keys onto the table and shrugged his shoulders, “Out.”

“That doesn’t answer my question…” I sat up on the couch and wrapped the plaid blanket tighter around me.

“Sassenach… It’s late. Ye havena had a good night’s sleep in at least two days and I am exhausted. Go sleep in our bed. We can talk when yer rested.”

That was the last thing I wanted to hear. Just earlier he had reprimanded me for coming home and wanting to sleep and not talk- now I was the one who wanted to talk and he was telling me to go to sleep.

Circles, we were running around each other in circles.

It was infuriating me.

We’d talk, now, whether he liked it or not.

“James.” I rose from the couch and crossed my arms. I seldom used his full name like that.“You were out all night after getting mad at me when I said I didn’t walk to talk. I think I am owed the decency of knowing where you were!”

I could feel frustration oozing out of me.

I had worked nearly three days in a row. There had been accident after accident, trauma after trauma. I had nearly doubled my surgeries from my last three rotations earlier that week with this weekend stint at the hospital.

I barely had time to enjoy a cup of coffee, let alone a minute to tell Jamie what was going on. I hadn’t come home to eat, sleep, shower, or give him the knowledge of what was happening.

“Claire,” He breathed. I could hear a small sense of anger rising in the pronunciation of my name. “I went to clear my head, I stopped at the place down from here, the one that is open late.”

He took a step closer towards me and came into the dim light. He was still in his office clothes from the day before- he wore a solid white button down with khaki pants, but now he looked tired and worn down. Though the small light from the lamp on the end table didn’t illuminate the entire room, it was bright enough for me to still see a small piece of red lipstick on the outside of his collar.

I kept my arms folded, standing my ground. The anger and exhaustion was catching up to me. Tears were near the surface.

“Och!” He threw his arms up in frustration when he read the look on my face. “Ye really want to do this, then?”

I pursed my lips and nodded.

“Like I said,” He hissed through his teeth, “I was at the place down the street, I have receipts if ye must see them!”

“That’s not what I want to talk about and you know it!” My voice was louder than usual but cracked at the end. It was taking everything in me to remain even the slightest bit composed.

He fisted his hands and took a step closer to me. We were now just a foot apart. I could smell the whisky coming from him.

“What is it, then?”

I scanned his eyes and saw he was completely helpless- he really had no clue.

“There’s lipstick- on your collar.” I could feel the tears rising to the surface. It was a mix of exhaustion and hormones, that I was sure of.

“Sassenach…” He whispered my name, I could hear the plea behind it, “Ye dinna think, that I…. Ye mustn’t?”

I shook my head and sat down on the edge of the sofa, “No….NO.” I put my face into my hands. “I know you didn’t…”

“Let me explain.” He took a seat next to me but kept some distance away, but placed a hand on my knee.

“I was sore, said things to ye before that I dinna mean.” I turned my head and looked at him. His face was earnest and I saw a small hint of a smile. “I went there to clear my head, hoping ye’d get tired enough and just crash… But I see no’ telling ye where I was was no’ wisest choice.”

That earned him a laugh as I shook my head, “No, you bloody Scot. You kept me up worrying!”

“Aye, I see that.” He scanned my face and scooted a little closer. “I was finishing up when Mary walked in.”

That sent a flash of anger through me and caused me to stiffen in resposne.

“Let me finish.” His voice was shaky but I could hear the determination in it. He closed the distance between us- our knees were touching, my hands in his. “She’s engaged now… And she was waiting to pick up her fiance from the airport. We just talked. I told her all about you.”

It still wasn’t enough to make me feel better.

“I told her about the wee lass.” He reached and put a hand on the small swell of my lower abdomen. “And she helped put things into perspective for me.”

“And just how did she do that?” I was jealous. I had never disliked Mary- she was a kind, smart, well rounded woman. Her helping my Jamie in a way struck a chord in me that I didn’t know I had.

“She gave me warmth, when I was questioning all of my choices.” He took a deep breath and tilted my face to his so we were eye to eye. “She gave me understanding and a sense of enlightenment when I needed it most.”

Daft man. I laughed out loud and could feel my own fists clenching.

“That’s what I am supposed to be, for you! You bloody Scot” My voice was louder than usual and cracking.! I took a breath and shrugged my shoulders, “At least, I think that’s the way this is supposed to go!”

I laughed again and steadied my voice. “This is our life we’re working through. Our relationship, our child, our future! I know we went from zero to one hundred rather quickly.. But you need to talk to me and no one else!”

He laughed at me and I let a tear fall. “Ye are just as daft as I, mo nighaen donn.”

He wiped the tear with his thumb. “Ye are for me what I am for you, but this..” He rubbed my stomach, “Has turned our world upside down rather quickly and we dinna ken what we are doing, together. We ken what we would do when we were alone and no’ together, but it’s no’ like that anymore.”

Slowly, I was starting to realize what he meant.

We had both been overworked, over tired, and stretched thin. He hadn’t been understanding of the requirements of my job and I hadn’t been receptive of his issues, especially since I was carrying our child. Instead, I had walled myself in and closed myself off. I had thought only of myself through all of this, with little regard to Jamie’s concerns at all.

This was new to me- new to him. We were in uncharted waters and if it was scary for me then I knew it must be for him, as well. But at the end of all of this, I knew there was no one I’d rather navigate treacherous waters with, than him.

“I have you, and we have her.” He kissed my forehead. “We dove into this head first and havena stopped since. We need to set some boundaries- and I must be more understanding of the circumstances of yer job.”

“And I need to clue you in a bit more…” I turned my face to his, nuzzling our noses. “And be more cautious of the cargo I am carrying.”

“Aye.” He breathed.

He kissed me, soft and slow. His tongue traced my bottom lip and I reached for his neck, pulling him on top of me.

Swiftly, his hands were on the waistband of my scrubs. In one fluid motion he had them off and strewn somewhere in the room. It was a flurry of events: my hands were in his hair and then I was scrambling to lift his shirt over his head. I could feel the sense of urgency pulsating through him. The need for reassurance, the closeness we were both seeking. Our lovemaking was always a risk- exposing our most vulnerable parts to each other, yet my soul was safe in his hands. I always knew that.

His mouth was hot and heavy on my neck as I fumbled with the button on his khakis, “I want ye Claire. I want ye so bad I can scarcely breathe. Will ye have me?”

I laughed into his next kiss, surprised he was asking, but finding it oddly romantic, “Yes… Yes I’ll have you.”

It wasn’t like I was going to say no, bloody Scot.

He trailed kisses up my chest as his hands found their way to my scrub top. Slowly he pulled it over my head and tossed it into the abyss. I laid my back down onto the couch as I watched him discard his shirt. His muscles tensed and even in the dimness of the room, the moon illuminated his every definition.

By some miracle he was mine.

His shirt fell just between the coffee table and couch. My eyes followed the curve of his abs as his hands hastily pulled my undergarments down my legs.

“Mo Chridhe,” he whispered, “Mo nighean donn.”

His hand worked quickly to rid himself of his clothes as I took in his full form. He wanted me, he wanted me badly.

Jamie lowered himself onto me trailing kisses from the small swell on my stomach until he reached my mouth. He fisted his hands into my hair while reaching for my hips so he could align my body just right.

He stopped for a moment, his fingertips pulsing against my skin, but his eyes locked on mine. His face scanned mine looking for something. What- I didn’t know nor did I care.

All I wanted was him. Body and soul.

I was quite literally bare and naked before him- nothing to protect me. Yet while I was in my most vulnerable state, Jamie saw right through me, as he always did.

Whatever he was searching for he found the answer. He situated himself between my legs and guided himself into me. We were as close as we could be, yet it didn’t seem like it was enough. It never was.

His movements were slow and methodical. He was taking the time to make sure I knew he was mine just as I was his.

As his pace started to gradually pick up, I could feel the wave building and building. Our eyes met and I saw a small smile form on his lips. We rode it together knowing whatever murky waters we might face in the future, so long as we were together, that was all that mattered.

#Outlander #Outlander Fanfic #Jamie x Claire #Jamie Fraser #Claire Beauchamp #I'll be there for you AU #IBTFY II #YEAH IMMA DROP THIS AND THEN JUST LEAVE #craigh na queue

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katymacsupernatural · 4 years

Text

Sizzling

Jared Padalecki x Reader

Summary: Y/N and Jared volunteer to have Easter dinner at their house.

This gif was sent in a long time ago by @sgarrett49. Sorry, I just now found it!!!

Warnings: None

Everything was prepared as well as you could hope for. The ham was in the oven, the smell making your stomach rumble. The pies chilling in the fridge, and the potatoes simmering on the stove.

Your friends and family were due to arrive at any moment, and you were still in your flour-covered sweatpants. “Jared, keep an eye on things,” You called over to him. He was currently opening a couple of different wine bottles, already dressed in a pair of khakis and a button-down. He looked handsome, but you hadn’t even had a chance to tell him yet.

“No problem,” he assured you, and you raced up the stairs. Your dress was already laid out on the dress, your heels beside it along with matching jewelry. Slipping out of your sweats, you tossed them in the hamper before pulling the dress over your head. It was a simple shift dress, a beautiful seafoam green with lace overlay. It was sleeveless, the bodice fitting snug while the skirt swirled out around your knees.

The jewelry was next. Then it was into the bathroom, to pull your hair from the messy bun it had been in, brushing until it rested nicely around your shoulders. A spritz of the perfume Jared had bought you for Christmas. Your makeup just needed a touch-up, and then you were ready.

While slipping on your heels, you heard the doorbell ring, a bunch of voices rising up from down below. Taking a deep breath, you left your room, slowly taking the stairs.

Your parents were already there, as were Jareds. His sister and brother and their family were there as well. Jared was off to the side, talking to his brother when he noticed you coming down the stairs.

His eyes widened slightly before a mischievous smile crossed his face. Bringing his finger up to his mouth he kissed it before pressing it to his butt. “Hot,” he mouthed. Rolling your eyes, you came to stand next to him, and he wrapped his arm around your shoulder.

Once Jared’s brother moved on, he pulled you into the corner. “Seriously though, you look smoking in that dress.”

You blushed at the heated look in his eyes. “Thanks, Jared.”

He leaned down, his lips brushing against yours before his Mom spoke up. “Y/N, let me help you in the kitchen.”

He groaned. Patting his cheek, you slid out from his arms, winking before following his Mom into the kitchen, feeling his eyes on you the entire time.

Sam/Jared Tags: @a-girl-who-loves-disney @aj-reuth @assassinofmasyaf @barbedwireandbubblegum @coralphantomninja @deansgirl215 @demonic-meatball @imagine-inc @imboredsueme @jaxaboyman @karouwinchester @kay18115 @luciferseclipse @musicalsarelove @nevaeh-potter15 @lovesamwinchester @sadmac356 @sassymoose07 @shadowhunter7 @sheridans-dynamos @sizzlingbearpolice @sortaathief @unabashedsoul97 @wildlandfox @winchesterslibrary

Forever Tags: @aditimukul @alexwinchester23 @algud @amanda-teaches @andreaaalove @artisticpoet @atc74 @be-amaziing @camelotandastronauts @caswinchester2000 @cpag7 @chelsea072498 @closetspngirl @docharleythegeekqueen @emoryhemsworth @ericaprice2008 @esoltis280 @foxyjwls007 @gh0stgurl @goldenolaf25 @growningupgeek @heyitscam99 @hobby27 @horsegirly99 @imsuperawkward @internationalmusicteacher @iwriteaboutdean @jayankles @jensen-gal @justsomedreaming @just-another-busyfangirl @karlee-fay-my-wayward-son @lifelovelaughangell123 @li-ssu @linki-locks11 @littleblue5mcdork @lowlyapprentice @maui137 @mersuperwholocked-lowlife @mogaruke @monkeymcpoopoo @musiclovinchic93 @nanie5 @percussiongirl2017 @plaid-lover-bay25 @roonyxx @ronja-uebrick @roxyspearing @samanthaharper2018 @samanddeanmyheroes @sandlee44 @shamelesslydean @simonsbluee @sillesworldofwriting @sgarrett49 @spnbaby-67 @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @spnwoman @superbadassnatural @thatcrazybookwormgeek @thewinchesterchronicles @vvinch3st3r @wecantgiggleitsafandom @whimsicalrobots @winchester-writes @zombiewerewolfqueen

#drabble request #jared x reader #jared padalecki #supernatural #supernatural rpf #rpf #katy writes #spn x y/n #jared x y/n

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hotoffthepressfics · 5 years

Text

Broke But Not Broken: Chapter 10

MASTERLIST

Part X

Previous | Next

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: 3,492

Summary: The reader tries to understand what happened between her and Bucky. More incidents occur. She wishes to know more about him so she reaches out to someone who can help.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of blood

Inspiration/Chapter Soundtrack:

“Everything” - Lifehouse

“In My Blood” - Shawn Mendes

A/N: Oh my god! I’ve been so excited to write this, but it has been hell achieving that. I finally got to complete it last night only to get caught up in writing that I let my computer die. All I can say is thank god for Microsoft’s OneDrive and auto save. So this fic has been pretty sweet and fluffy up until now. It’s gonna be a little sad and angsty the next couple of updates, but I promise there will be happy times again for them both! Thank you guys for being so patient between updates. You all are truly the best!

Y/F/F/N - Your Fake First Name

“I’m going to kill him.” CiCi quietly fumes, carefully arranging the silk scarf around your neck.

After Bucky had fled the apartment, you’d spent a good deal of time curled up on the floor weeping. You’d been shell shocked, unable to move. When CiCi had knocked on your door, it’d been to chat about the night before. The second you’d finally opened the door, however, that all changed.

“Please don’t be so harsh on him.” You say softly.

CiCi stops, stepping back to stare at you with arms akimbo.

“Don’t be harsh? Baby, it looks like he tried to strangle the life right outta you!” She exclaims.

Holding CiCi’s gaze a moment you glance down to the floor, contemplating. You swallow, feeling the soreness in the muscles as you do. It’s true; it certainly felt like Bucky had been trying to kill you. Yet, now that you’d had time to calm down and process what happened the whole situation felt off.

“I think he was more frightened than I was by what he did. You didn’t see his face, Cees.” You say.

“Sugar, I don’t need to be there to see it. One look at your neck and I can see the malice.”

You shake your head, needing her to understand.

“It was like he wasn’t there. Not at first. I-I know what malice looks like when someone wants to – and enjoys – hurting you…” you let your voice trail off, twisting your fingers nervously.

You breathe deeply, “He snapped out of a trance Cees, and when he did… he was horrified by it.” Yes, that felt right.

CiCi studies you a long minute before she sighs, throwing her hands up in surrender. “Alright fine, maybe it was an accident. But you’re gonna need to talk to him and get to the bottom of it before I change my mind and give him a piece of it.”

You nod in agreement, stomach twisting in unease. You may not blame him for what happened, but it didn’t mean you were thrilled with the prospect of confronting him. CiCi sighs again, taking a seat on the bed next to you.

“I’m sorry baby. I’m sorry that this has happened to you.” She murmurs.

You remain silent. Mulling a decision over in your head; you shift your body to face her. “Do you remember when we first met? When you asked me what my story was?”

“Yes…” CiCi answers carefully.

You reach for her hands, squeezing them for support. With one more deep breath you begin.

“I’m ready to start telling you.”

•••

It took you the better part of the afternoon to lay out your story to CiCi. Well most of it. You told her of Colton and your turbulent relationship with him, but the other parts were still too hard to speak out loud.

By the time you’d finished you needed to start heading to work. CiCi hugged you tightly and offered to accompany you, but you declined. Better to stand on your own if you were ever going to get over your past, and recent, trauma.

“What’s with the scarf?” Naomi asks, as you come out to the bar and settle into your routine.

Naomi was another waitress at The Grandstand who, between flirting with the patrons and singing along with Michael’s playing, occasionally did her job. She was the bane of Maggie’s existence and Marcus’s current squeeze. You didn’t mind her most days, unless she was needling you about your appearance. She thought you didn’t dress…attractive enough for the clientele. Most of the time you could smile benignly and muster through it; today you just couldn’t take it.

“Look, Naomi. I know my style choices aren’t ones you agree with, but not everyone enjoys showing off skin. So I would really appreciate it if you would just back off.” You say, glancing up at her in challenge.

Naomi lifts an eyebrow in surprise, and for a moment you think she’s going to start a fight. Instead she just pushes off the bar counter and sidles away. You tremble, the adrenaline of defending yourself leaving you shaken. You’d never done that before.

Soon the little encounter is forgotten. You lose yourself in work, milling between tables, taking patron orders. You were glad to have the distraction, both from Naomi and from the Bucky situation.

Halfway through the night you pause by the bar, taking a brief moment to recover from the sudden rush that always seemed to happen around ten o’ clock at night. You offer a small smile to the bartender, Owen. Taking another deep breath you stand up straight to walk away.

Your neck snaps back as something tugs against the silk scarf, aggravating the tender bruises circling it. The cloth pulls free from your neck. You whirl around wide-eyed, bringing your hand up to cover the bruising while searching for the culprit. Naomi smirks triumphantly, dangling the small piece of fabric from her index finger.

“Mmm, kinky. I can see why you’d cover that up. It’s a little unseemly.” Naomi taunts.

Your vision blurs and before you realize what you’re doing, you slap her across the face. In her dazed state you snatch the scarf from her hands and quickly retie it around your throat. Naomi glances up to you, the shock turning into rage. She screams and makes to lunge at you before Marcus suddenly swoops in and hauls her back.

“Whoooa there. Let’s not start this cat fight in the middle of my club, hmm?” Marcus says as he drags Naomi out of sight.

Maggie stares dumbstruck at you. You breathe heavily, shaking yet again. You look out towards the club floor. Some of the customers are watching and whispering to one another. Others attempt to ignore the upset, not wanting to get involved. Maggie approaches you carefully.

“Y/F/F/N? Are you okay?” She goes to touch your shoulder but you pull back.

“I – I need to go.” You whisper.

“Ah..” Maggie begins to say something but thinks better of it, “Yes, perhaps that will be best for now. Maybe take a few days off too. Just to let things cool off.” She suggests kindly, her eyes shifting subtly to your neck.

You swallow around the lump forming in your throat before nodding once, taking your leave.

•••

“Bucky… Bucky please. If you’re in there we need to talk…” You knock for the third time, pleading yet again for him to come out.

You’re met with silence. You sigh in frustration, turning to leave. It’d been two days since the bewildering attack. You had put it off after the fight at work, having dealt with too many emotions already that day. You knew you couldn’t avoid it forever though. Besides, you were already missing him.

On the ride in the elevator back to your floor you ponder how to get Bucky to talk to you. You’d waited around his usual haunts around the complex, hoping to find him tinkering away on a repair. You’d gone around asking the other tenants if they’d seen him. None had for the last couple of days. That had worried you. After that you’d gone out the fire escape and tested his window, but it was shut tight. His absence was making you anxious.

You close the door to your apartment, leaning against it in defeat. You just didn’t know where to begin. You had gotten closer to Bucky, but the more you thought about it you really didn’t know any intimate details about him at all. You just needed some clue to figure out where he would go in a time of crisis.

A memory flits across your mind. You hurriedly shuffle to the kitchen, opening the closest drawer to the entryway. After some digging around you finally find what you’re looking for. Holding up the card you read the name along the bottom. Steve Rogers.

You bite your bottom lip, scrunching your brows together in worry. It felt wrong to pry into Bucky’s business, especially when you’d been so tight lipped about your own problems. Ultimately the concern gnawing away at your heart won out and you dialed the number. The line rang a few times before a deep, male voice answers.

“Hello, this is Steve.”

Your voice stuck in your throat, still uncertain you should follow through with this.

“….Hello?” The man asks again, confusion evident.

“H – hi – Hello, um… I – I don’t know if you remember me, but I’m the girl living in Bucky’s extra apartment. You gave me your card and said I should call…” you voice trails off, your confidence flagging again.

“Oh! Yes, what can I do for you?” The man perks up, taking on a cheerier tone. It helps to set your mind at ease as you gear up for what you’re about to ask next.

“Umm, I was hoping I could meet with you to talk about Bucky?”

•••

You stand outside the café, watching the tall, blonde man as he sits sipping at his coffee, waiting. He sports the same leather jacket you’d first encountered him in; a nice plaid, button – up shirt and khaki pants completing the outfit. He glances around the room, kindly smiling to passing customers as he makes eye contact with them.

There was no explanation for what possessed you to make arrangements to meet with a complete stranger. The words had left your mouth before you’d even processed them. So, you reasoned with yourself, it was natural to stand outside like a weirdo and observe him before meeting.

His easy demeanor and laid back manner helped to calm the riotous fears clamoring in your chest. He seemed like the type to be honest and trustworthy. Seemed to be. You could still go back home and pretend this rendezvous was to never take place. The doubts echoed in your head, but if you turn back now you might not learn how to reach Bucky. The window to salvage whatever tenuous relationship you had with him was dwindling fast. Without another thought you waltz over to the door and yank it open.

You hoped you could put off the meeting a little longer by going to the counter and ordering, but the minute you entered, Steve’s eyes zeroed in on you. You sigh a little and make your way to his table. Better to just bite the bullet. He smiles a little uncertainly and rises as you approach.

“Y/N?” He asks, sticking out his hand in offering for a handshake.

You take his hand gingerly, barely touching him. You put on the best smile you can muster, “Y-yes, hi.”

His smile broadens, “Nice to formally meet you.”

“L-likewise. I was just going to…” you pull your hand away and turn slightly to point to the counter, needing to break away for a moment.

“Oh! Here, let me get it for you. What would you like?” He walks past you, swiveling to face you as he waited for your answer.

Your first thought was to protest, but you relent and give him your order. He goes to place it while you sit patiently at the table. His genuine kindness helping to ease the nauseousness in your stomach. When he returns he hands you the hot drink. You blow lightly into the paper cup, bringing it to your lips. A cautious sip and you pull it away, too hot to enjoy just yet. Steve breaks the silence.

“So, what did you want to discuss?” He asks, eyebrows raised in polite curiosity.

You set the cup onto the table adjusting uncomfortably in your seat. No point in beating around the bush. “Umm, well it’s about Bucky. I – I was wondering if you knew where he would go after something… bad happens?” You finish, the words hard to get out.

Steve stares at you a moment, trying to decipher your meaning. “What… does ‘bad’ entail?” He asks carefully.

You worry your lip between your teeth. Quickly scanning the people around you to make sure no one was watching, you carefully pull back the scarf to reveal the bruising around your neck. It wasn’t as bad as before, having had a few days to heal, but the marks were still pretty visible. Steve’s eyebrows raise slightly in surprise and he sucks in a breath.

“Ah. That bad, huh? Are you alright?” He questions, leaning in to keep his voice low.

You let the scarf fall back into place, nodding. You were a little touched by the concern that edged his tone. “Yes, I was shaken, but now I just want to talk to him. No one has seen him for days and I’m worried. I just want to make sure he’s okay.”

Steve taps his fingers against his coffee, his other hand skating through his hair. He lets out a heavy sigh.

“Well, I’m afraid I won’t be much help. I’ve been trying to track him down for a couple months now. After an… incident… he usually hops from bar to bar, trying to forget. Problem is he never goes to the same ones so it’s hard to catch him. He’s pretty good at disappearing when he wants to.” Steve says wearily.

You slump a little in your seat, disappointed to discover you were no closer to finding Bucky. You ponder his words a moment, lingering on a particular word he used.

“You said after an ‘incident’, has this happened before?” You ask, gesturing towards your throat.

Steve blows out the air in his lungs, swiping a hand over his face. He leans back into his chair, stuffing his hands into his pockets before replying.

“How much of Buck’s history do you know?” He asks, studying you.

You shrug, discomfited by the sudden change in subject. “Not a lot… he told me he used to be a soldier, but he never went into detail…” you admit.

He nods, seeming to decide on something. He shifts position again, this time more intent on you.

“Look, I don’t know if I should be telling you any of this, but judging by the handiwork Buck left behind I think it’s important you know. Yeah. He was a soldier. We both were. Well, are still technically. I’ve known Bucky my whole life. We’re more brothers than friends. Joined up in the army and served. Special Ops, went in and stopped terrorist events from ever happening, or tried anyways.” He pauses, taking a sip from his cup.

“One mission didn’t end so well. Bucky got captured. We couldn’t find him for a long time. We were certain he was dead. Months passed before he turned up again, but he was different. They’d tortured him. Brainwashed him. Left him with a severed arm and an experimental prosthetic. We brought him home, had a friend with some connections try and help him. The guy fixed his arm issues but… the trauma was still there. Buck ended up hurting some people, so he vanished. Tried to run from everyone he’s ever cared about to protect them. I guess he’s trying to do it again.” Steve finishes.

You sit stunned. You had wanted to find out more about Bucky, but this certainly hadn’t been what you expected. The image Steve painted did not coincide with the flirtatious, carefree man you’d come to know. Then again, masks could come in all shapes and sizes. You stare down at your coffee in silence, no longer wishing to have the drink. A brief silence settles between you two and you're surprised when you glance up to notice Steve watching you.

“Can I ask you for a favor?” Steve requests.

A little wary you nod for him to continue. He drops his gaze, pondering his words. When he looks back up, there’s a raw intensity that steals your breath.

“Don’t give up on Bucky. I know what he did was probably really bad, but he’s had some really hard knocks too. Just… don’t be quick to cut loose when it gets hard.”

You ease your shoulders. You meet his eyes hoping your resolve is evident to him.

“I won’t.”

•••

You latch the door behind you, dropping your bag to the floor before padding over to the piano. Though your meeting with Steve Rogers hadn’t gone as you hoped, you did learn some things about Bucky. It hadn’t been a total waste. You just wished, now more than ever, you had a way to find him. You needed him to understand that while he had scared you, you didn’t fear him. Not like Colton. Definitely not like him.

Needing to sort out the conflict inside you, you play a few practice notes. The sounds resonate around you, soothing the ache deep within your heart. You start to play the song that once you’d only associated with your mother. Now you also thought of a kind, blue-eyed man, too afraid to face the demons that dogged at him day and night.

You hit some discordant notes as a loud crashing sounds upon the apartment floor above you, followed by a loud thud.

Bucky! You think, scrambling to push open your window and climb out onto the fire escape.

You clamor to his landing, peering inside his living room window. You didn’t see him though you could tell that he’d been there. Liquor bottles that hadn’t been there before on your previous trips littered the floor. A warning bell sounded in your head that something wasn’t right. You race back down to your apartment. Going into the kitchen you rifle through the utensil drawer until you’ve procured a sturdy looking knife.

Once you’re back on the fire escape you wiggle the knife into the crevice between the window panes. With as much force as you can muster you shove the knife as hard as you can against the lock; the old metal breaking apart. You slide open the window and clumsily tumble in, knocking a few of the bottles together.

“Bucky?” You called, waiting for a reply.

Silence descends on you. Carefully, you make your way to the bedroom, pausing briefly to peer over the kitchen bar to make sure he wasn’t in there. As you push open the door you find the bedroom in similar disarray as the rest of the apartment, but no Bucky. You walk over to the bathroom door, reaching into the darkness to flip on the light. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust.

“Oh my god! Bucky!” You scream.

Glass and blood cover the floor, an unconscious Bucky lying in the middle of it. One of the glass doors to the shower no longer in its place. A sizable gash along Bucky’s temple reveals the source of all the blood. You slowly kneel beside him, taking care not to cut yourself on the glass.

“Bucky? Bucky? Can you hear me?” Your voice shakes as you call to him.

His eyes flutter for a moment, attempting to open but failing. He moans low in his throat. Panic bubbles up in your own. You take a few calming breaths through your nose. It wouldn’t help the situation to go into hysterics right now. You brush away his hair from his face, trying to see the extent of the damage. Other than a few small shards embedded into his skin, the only major injury appeared to be the gash.

“Bucky, if you can hear me I’m going to call for help. I’ll be right back.” You say to him. You go to push up from the floor when his fingers snake around your wrist.

“N-no… s-stay…” he slurs weakly. A thick waft of alcohol comes off him as he speaks.

You bite your tongue hard to the point that you almost draw blood. Tears well up in your eyes. With your freed hand you feel around his pockets for a cell phone. Finding it in his left front pocket, you coax it out. You dial the emergency number with trembling fingers, trying your best to relay the issue to the dispatcher. Once she assures you that help was on the way you curl protectively around Bucky’s head, weeping softly as you wait on the line with her.

It feels like an eternity has passed when the ambulance and paramedics finally arrive. You reluctantly move out of their way as they cart Bucky down to the street though you remain hot on their trail. You climb into the ambulance after they load him in, taking his hand as you do. It drives away from the curb quickly transporting you both to the hospital.

You soothe your fingers softly over Bucky's hand, needing the contact to reassure yourself he'd be okay. Fishing around in your back pocket for his phone and the bent card you dial the number from it again for the second time that day.

"Steve? It's Y/N. Bucky really needs you."

EVERYTHING TAGLIST:

@booktvmoviefangirl @lowkeybuckyb @mrsdaamneron @xxashy999xx @c-ly-g @coal000 @rroguebones @ghostlyrose2 @part-time-patronus @emelielwh @peaceinourtime82 @buckysforeverprincess @geeksareunique @amnahs9695 @v-2bucky @scarlet-skywalkers @lokilvrr @thisismysecrethappyplace @sacre-bluhm @tatertot1097 @until-theend-oftheline @amoonagedaydreamer @marvelouspottering @thatfanficstuff @chuuulip @littlemarvelfics @averyrogers83 @ellaprime68 @shield-agent78 @jewels2876

BUCKY BARNES TAGLIST:

@bloodiedskirtts @igotkatiepowers @misplacedorphan @superwholockwannabe @moonstruckhargrove @ladysergeantbarnes

BBNB TAGLIST:

@imaginecrushes @that-bearshark @jademox @theraputicwritings @marvel-fanfiction @aubri1313 @xcriminalmastermindx @regulusirius @jacquelineisawkward @lostinspace33 @directionerfae @rainbowkisses31 @marie-is-in-the-dark @msgrungie @mrsbarneswillseeyounow @getmedeacon @owhatshername1 @drunkinthemiddleoftheday @mizzzpink @aveatquevale- @sweetlydecaf @absolukeyrh

#bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel au #modern au #bucky series #bucky angst #bucky fluff #bucky smut #broke but not broken #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #marvel series #fanfiction

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still-not-king · 5 years

Text

The Accidental Implications of Internalizing Good Omens - Personal Philosophical Revelations from my Living Room Couch

Huddle up, ery'body, I gotta story:

So I read “Good Omens” so long ago I remember virtually nothing about it. It had been out maybe a year? And I was introduced to Christianity in the same blase way I was taught Greek & Norse mythology or pop culture or sex ed. (In that my parents sent me to the library or rehearsal or school and assumed I'd figure out the pertinent details). I hadn’t even read “Lamb” by Christopher Moore before picking it up, let alone the actual bible, so I didn't have a lot of religious or moral or cultural context for it at the time. I was just reading. And in time I read more books - everything I could get my hands on, really - and I forgot all about “Good Omens.” That is, until one of my favorite people told me that two people on my Beer List (long story) would be starring in the mini-series, and it was actually being written by @neil-gaiman

Now I told you that story to tell you this one: I have three people in my life (besides my daughter) that I have and do travel great distances and perform generally unreasonable feats for, my reward for which being nearly exclusively their company and happiness. It’s delightful on my end and, I’m told, very strange behavior in general.

My husband is one of them and Jesus, is he a character. We’re... incredibly different. He goes by his full name even when it could be shortened readily. He is a fluffy-haired, slightly anxious, wine-, sushi-, and indian-food loving, ace man who is borderline obsessed with outdated music, movie, & vintage video game minutiae. A careful driver and tidy cook, he hates exercise for its own sake and loves being a stay at home Dad. He knows nothing whatsoever about cars or sports and looked at me like a mad woman when I changed his tire and told him he needed new brake pads for the first time. He dresses in khakis and light colors and plaid shorts like he gets all his clothes from a 1993 department store. He spent years trying to be the man his family wanted him to be, trying to do the right thing, trying, trying, trying to be what they told him to be. Eventually, he eloped with me instead, and ended up neither the man his family nor society had told him he must be.

But he's happy.

And so am I.

Me. With my classic rock and Ludo and aggressive classical music played too loud. With my athleisure and tattoos and aromanticism and unreasonable emotional investment in fiction & fandom. I wear sunglasses into the night bc glare hurts my eyes and live in blacks, blues, and bold lipsticks. I lift weights. I drive too fast. I eat too much sugar, never learned to cook, need to be reminded to sleep, can't help but overwater my plants, and don't tend to be surprised by simply horrible things in general. (Some people call me cold, he calls it defensive pessimism). I work with my hands and problem-solve and climb the walls if I'm out of work for longer than a week.

I try my best to be a good mom, and he helps me.

He tries to be a good man, and I help him.

He loves me despite the fact that I infuriate him, I love him despite the fact that he's boring sometimes. Or maybe not even despite, but including and because of and through it all. Because we love each other, with a calm, casual sort of love that gets easier with time.

Which brings me to now.

To this week.

To sitting here, shell shocked and giddy on the couch, watching two of my favorite performers bring to screaming life a book that I barely remember but reverberates in a way I had never expected. One of those works that worms your way into your brain and your soul and your moral compass in ways you didn't realize until it's staring you in the face.

And on top of it all, the angel and the demon fucking LOVE one another. They just do, in a way I imagined but never thought I'd see. And that's when I realized: Aziraphele and Crowley are some of the reasons my life is the way it is.

And I had no idea.

So thanks, dear boys. For teaching me something very important about myself. About the world. About love. About expectations and reality and family and being the person you choose to be instead of the person you should be.

What a fascinating thing, our brain is. How delightful.

#good omens #neil gaiman #terry pratchett #thanks #text post #Aromantism #ace #morality #brain #philosophy #tangent #my life #aziraphale #crowley #thank you #the beer list #opposites #the various forms and natures of love

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amiafairyprincessyet · 5 years

Photo

In addition to berry-picking, I also went to New York while I was home with my parents! There was a week left to see the Camp exhibit at the Met, so my dad and I took the train in. Obviously, I had to dress according to the theme--I don’t remember what I wore when I saw the Rei Kawakubo one, but I did very much wear a plaid skirt to the Alexander McQueen one--so I went hyper-literal and wore hiking/camping clothes. This also meant I had a valid reason to wear hiking boots in New York, which was nice because I’ve been having problems with my foot.

[Image description: one full-body photo of a young woman (me) with orange hair. The front part is tightly curled and pinned up in a little poofy bit at the front of my head. The rest is more loosely curled and clipped up so it looks like a short, voluminous ponytail. I’m standing in front of a wooden door and holding a bronze and silver cane. I’m wearing a camo print T-shirt that says “my chemical romance”; “VENGEANCE”; and “GIVE ‘EM HELL, KID!!!” on it in yellow letters. It’s tucked into khaki shorts that go to about mid-thigh. The shorts are belted with a thin brown belt. Under the shorts, I have on “nude” tights, with blue hiking socks over the tights. I’m wearing dark brown hiking boots with blue and silver accents. I have on a headband with little fake sunflowers, bright red lipstick, and a little blue scarf around my neck. As always, I’m wearing my round silver glasses.]

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wlwbeverly · 5 years

Text

for the group chat

fifteen down, twenty more to go.

stan takes a swig of green tea from his mug, pressing it into his hand, sore from writing comments and corrections on the seemingly endless pile of papers he had in front of him. he knows he has to keep going; the deadline for this month’s grades will sneak up on him and it’s better to have them out of mind early on.

that’s what he tells himself. in reality, he’s still putting something, someone, off.

you.

stan had known you were different the first debate he had hosted in class. having studied nearly a decade of history before becoming a professor, he had realized how truly fucked up some areas of it were. he knew that younger generations were getting smarter, and truly trying to understand where they came from. he loved that about teaching; every new class brought in new ideas.

unfortunately, some of those ideas were stupid ones. he had fought back the urge to roll his eyes when one of his “problem students” started arguing the unencessity of the women’s rights movement, saying that it was softening the men of today, blah blah blah, insert more misogynistic, narrow minded garbage here.

no one was willing to talk back, but you had put up your pen about halfway through his rant, sitting silently until stan had gestured to you.

“um, miss-“

“y/n.” you had told him, directing your attention back to the boy who had been speaking prior. “a few counterarguments, i f i may?”

stan had nodded, giving you the ok.

it was as if he had flipped a switch.

you went off on the boy, to the point where stan found himself fighting back laughter at the shocked look on his face, and the whiteness of his knuckles, and the blush on his face.

he had to cut you off about five minutes into you verbally destroying the poor kid

because his stomach hurt from trying so hard to fight back laughter.

he had read your paper that same night, and was awestruck at the way you put words together, and the way you picked your side and fought for it, other’s opinions be damned.

he had a thought that had he been in the class, he would’ve fallen in love with you the second you had brought out the statistics you used to take down the other boy. he pushes it down when he realizes it made his face heat up and his heart beat just a little harder.

you’re more confident after that debate, constantly asking questions and offering up your own answers to the ones he asked the class. stan swears that you could talk him into burning his own house down, and somehow make it make perfect sense.

he tries to push you back down as he sets his mug down, pressing his pen into the page so hard it nearly pokes a hole. he’s ready to drown himself in work, but then he feels something thud distantly.

he silently prays that it’s not what he thinks it is, but then the distant blare of trashy house music confirms it; the local frat’s yearly halloween blowout.

“fuck.” stan sighs, putting his face in his hands momentarily, trying to will the music to stop.

he tries to get back to work, but all he can focus on is the thud of the bass, and if he tries to tune it out, the sound of your voice plays in his head like a broken record.

he can’t control his own brain’ torments, but he can control the noise outside.

he pulls a cardigan on over his shirt, grabbing his keys as he slides on his shoes.

he parks far down the street, not wanting his car to be vandalized by rogue frat boys, or drunken party guests.

he catches sight of his reflection in the mirror, and almost laughs at the situation; clad in his collared sweater and khakis, wearing his reading glasses, readying himself to tell a bunch of drunk teenagers to turn their music down.

before he thinks himself into a midlife crisis, striding up the driveway and to the door, ringing the doorbell before the rush of courage leaves him.

it’s gone the second the door opens, and he’s positive he royally pissed someone upstairs off.

you lean on the doorway, glittery eyeshadow smeared haphazardly on your face. your hair is up in half pigtails, a blouse tied right above your stomach, a plaid skirt with a hem that barely brushes your wrists worn over fishnets.

“professor uris!” you greet him, face flushed, words slurred.

you’re drunk.

“miss y/l/n.” stan greets you, trying to avert his eyes from your exposed skin.

“guys, professor uris is here to join the party!” you shout to no one in particular, a few equally drunk frat boys yelling out a few “woohoo!”s at the word “party”.

“oh, i’m not.” stan tells you. “i was actually going to ask-“

“oh, come on!” you urge him, reaching out as if you’re going to grab his hand, but letting your fingers skim his wrist lightly.

“i’m not sure you’d want to party with any of your professors.” stan barely gets out.

“well, not most of them.” you admit, stepping out of the doorframe. “but there’s a difference between you and them.”

stan tries his best to keep his composure, but nearly passes out when you lean in to whisper in his ear.

“you’re sexier than them.”

stan almost groans, covering it up with a fake cough. “i’ll disregard that. i’m here to ask-“

“i don’t want you to disregard anything.” your voice is different. it was light and playful before, but now it’s softer and deeper. you look at him, pupils blown and eyes lidded.

“do you know what i think about in class, professor?” you ask him, and everything in him tells him to move back, but he’s frozen in place.

“i think about you, with me. on your desk, in your office. hands on everything you’ve been staring at just now.”

stan almost passes out.

“now i’m sure you have shit to do, but i’m gonna get back to my-“

you take a step forward and almost fall headfirst down the stairs, stan catching you just in time.

“okay, nope. i’m taking you home.” stan tells you, you going “ooohhh” in response.

“not like that!” he scolds you, you giggling as you hang off of him, him (barely) helping you to your feet.

“what hall are you in?” stan asks.

“woodland.” you tell him. “i wanna walk. i need air.”

“okay,” stan sighs, “but you’re not walking alone.”

you shrug, and the two of you spend the majority of the trip in silence. you break it once you’re closer to the dorms, and you realize how funny it all is; you just told your professor about how badly you want to jump his bones, dressed in the sluttiest costume your local party city had to offer.

you giggle out loud, and stan tries to fight the way his stomach flips at the sound.

“yeah. i know. everything’s hilarious.” stan deadpans, continuing the walk to your dorm. “what is it his time?”

“i-“you laugh again, slumping down on a bench,” i have no idea what the fuck i’m doing.”

stan’s taken back by the statement, having expected you to have been laughing at something only someone as drunk as you would find amusing.

“i’m just here, and i got so sick of the crippling fear that i was wasting my life that i-“ you gesture back in the direction you had walked from, “i did shots till my throat went numb at a fucking frat house!” you laugh, softer this time, pushing your hands back through your hair.

“what do you mean, wasting your life?” stan sits down on the bench, telling himself it’s because his feet are sore, and not because he wants to be closer to you.

“i’m an adult. i’m on my own. i should have a grip on myself.”you tell him, leaning forward with your face in your hands.”i’m supposed to know what i wanna do by now.”

“hey, no, you’re not.” stan tells you, reaching out to put a hand on your shoulder, but retracting it, deciding to put it on his own knee, which is still dangerously close to your bare one. “no one knows what they wanna do at your age.” he tells you, more honest than he’s ever been with a student, let alone at 1AM on a park bench. “you’re young, you have time to figure things out. i still don’t think i’ve figured myself out yet.” stan admits, hoping you won’t remember this come morning; he’s never been this comfortable being so vulnerable.

“i guess i just thought,” you shrug, leaning back into the bench. “i’d hit eighteen, and a switch would flip, you know? and i’d have all my shit in order. and now i’m drunk out of my mind, pouring my heart out to my professor in the middle of the night.”

stan’s heart drops. you’re tanked, and eighteen, and he’s your professor and oh god oh god-

“let’s get you home.” stan stands up abruptly, you stumbling as he guides you back to the dorm.

you get to the lounge in the front of the dorm and immediately lay on the couch. “i’m good here.”

“no, you’re not. you need to sleep in an actual bed.”

“huh, sleep. good.”

“no-y/n!” stan whisper yells, but it’s no use; you’re out cold.

he sighs, runs a hand through his hair, and grabs the blanket off the top of the couch, pulling it over you. out of instinct, he leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead, when the realization that you’re still drunk, and his student flashes in his mind like a neon sign.

he had been close enough to the point where his hair brushed against your forehead, and he pulls himself away, rushing to the door of your dorm and booking it back to his own house.

once he’s back to his car, still parked outside the frat, he flings the door open and slams it shut, as if he can somehow leave the smell of your perfume and the softness of your skin outside if he slams it hard enough.

but it doesn’t work. his brain is fogged over in a haze of you.

he’s completely, undeniably fucked.

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