#and greets the class calling them chat from habit

[kingdomvel]

Okay but professor Obi-Wan having to give online lectures from home (bc of the covid quarantine or whatever) and he uses Anakin's streaming set up and the students who don't know Anakin are like "wait... why does he have such a good camera and mic, why is this so professional" and the ones that know Anakin are obviously fangirling very hard

[crackedpumpkin]

|| ʙʟᴀɴᴋ ᴄᴀɴᴠᴀꜱ || ᴘᴛ. ᴛᴡᴏ ||

[ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 ] | [ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ] | [ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ]

The sun is annoying, and the world can survive without vegetables.

This is the conclusion you’ve drawn after waking up to warm, yellow rays that shine directly onto your closed eyes. You blink groggily, rubbing your tired eyes with a free hand while the other brushes your teeth. 

“Honey, you’re gonna be late!” 

You mumble out an incoherent reply to your mom from the bathroom, quickly tossing on a thin cardigan after rinsing your mouth to rid the intense menthol sting that lingers on your lips. Entering the kitchen once done, however, provides you with a delicious reminder of how amazing of a cook your mom is. 

You grab a fork, devouring the scrambled eggs on toast. Sriracha stains the plate as a result of your messy eating habits, placing the now-empty plate in the basin with a satisfied hum. “Thanks, Mama!” You grab your school bag and rush to the door. You pause at the small alcove before the door, stepping down and slipping on your shoes. 

“Bye, Mama! See you later!” You call out before shutting the door behind you. The walk to school is as usual, with loud car horns being beeped as people rush to work while you stroll past graffiti-filled walls on the side of buildings. The street outside your school is already crowded with various cliques chatting away, and you enthusiastically greet some of them with nods and half-smiles as you enter through the main gate.

You polish off your taco, throwing away your napkin after using it to wipe your lips of any grease stuck on them. You look up at the sound of your name being called, grinning once you see a short brunette walking down the hallway. “Morning,” You greet Nicole cheerfully, opening your locker and pulling out the textbooks and notebooks you need for the day.

“What’s with you today?” 

You hum at her question, glancing at her with a quick shrug as she scrolls through Instagram. Nicole’s the first friend you made here in Brooklyn High School after transferring here four months ago. She had been the first to approach you, asking to borrow a pencil after she forgot to bring hers to class. 

Like any other teenager being forced to move cities to somewhere completely new, you stick to her like glue after that, eventually infiltrating your way into her friend group. 

“You know me, studious and independent’s the vibe I got goin’ on,” You grin at Nicole, draping an arm around her shoulder and giving her an affectionate squeeze. She looks up from her phone with a frown, using her finger to push up her glasses which had slid down slightly from their usual perch on her nose.

“Don’t be so uptight,” You chuckle, nudging her side. She sighs, rolling her eyes in amusement instead. You’re interrupted from your conversation on where to hang out this weekend at your name being yelled out from a distance away. 

“Eyyyy, que pasa!” You laugh at Michael’s greeting as he comes up to you with an outstretched fist, bumping it gently after removing your arm from where it was resting around Nicole’s shoulders. “Have you studied for the quiz today?” He asks, slinging a casual arm around your shoulders while you walk down the hall with Nicole beside you. 

You hum with a quick shrug. “Think so?”

“Man, you gotta get your head down from the clouds, bro.” He chuckles, trying to move sneakily to stand beside Nicole, who simply holds up her hand, stopping him from coming any closer with a glare. He retracts the arm he’s about to sling around her shoulders with a sheepish grin, holding it up in surrender.

“Anyway,” He brushes off her clear rejection, focusing back on you, “I’m planning a hangout with a few friends to celebrate the end of exam season. You in?” You immediately nod with a wide grin, already excited at the thought of goofing around with your friends. 

“Of course, you’re invited too. Maybe we can have our own little hangout-” 

“I’d rather stab my right arm.” Nicole cuts him off with an angelic smile, though her venom-filled words elicit an amused laugh from Michael. “Ah, how I love that icy nature of yours,” He sighs with a shake of his head.

“Who’s coming?’ You ask absentmindedly, adjusting the two notebooks in your arms. 

“Jeremy, Ally, Geoff, Tiff, Miles…”

“Miles? As in, Miles Morales?” Nicole finally speaks, eyes wide in surprise.

“Who’s that?” You don’t recognise the name. The rest you’re familiar with, though. They’re all in Brooklyn High, just in different classes. You’d seen them in passing around the school, and they recognised you in turn as one of Michael’s friends. 

“Right, you don’t know him. He transferred a while before you joined. He’s in Brooklyn Visions now. Here,” Nicole holds up her phone to your face, and you squint at the picture on her screen. Huh. He’s kinda cute, you suppose.

“Cool. Guess we’ll meet during the hangout then.” You sit down at your desk, Michael sitting at the desk beside you while she takes her seat in front of you.

“Wait, how do you know Miles?” Nicole rolls her eyes as she turns around in her chair, placing her elbow on your desk as she leans on her palm. 

“He helped me out a couple of times.” She answers simply. Michael frowns slightly. “Were you two….?”

“Why? Are you going to be devastated if I say yes?” Nicole smirks. “Unfortunately, it’s actually because our moms knew each other.” She sighs, holding up her free hand to observe her nails.

Before Michael can respond, the bell rings to signal the start of classes. They pass by in a flash, and all too soon, you’re outside the door to the art classroom. You’re hesitant to enter, eyeing the doorknob as if it’d burn you as soon as you touch it. 

“Well? Will you stay outside collecting dust, or will you enter?” You flinch at the sudden voice, looking up to see Miss Dawson looking at you with an expectant gaze. Her arms are crossed, waiting for you to go inside. 

“Y-yeah, I was just about to, but then I realised I forgot my…. brushes?” 

“You stored them in my desk drawer last week because they were too heavy to carry home with you.” 

Damn it. You purse your lips, huffing at your forgetfulness. “Fine,” You mutter, grabbing the doorknob and turning it, walking to your usual corner of the room. You pull out your sketchbook and pencil case, leaning back in your chair and waiting for Miss Dawson to start her lesson.

“Today, I’ll be assigning you a task for your end-of-year exams. I know some of you are interested in building up your portfolio to apply for the Brooklyn Academy of Fine Arts or maybe even to other schools in different states.” You perk up slightly at the mention of art school, placing your hands on your sketchbook. Miss Dawson speaks slowly yet surely, looking at each student with pure conviction. When her gaze lands on you, you’re a hundred percent sure she can see every thought that crosses your mind, each doubt that lingers in your heart. 

“Your topic is, Your Favourite Scenery.”

Murmurs spread through the class, everyone looking at each other with worry. You bite your bottom lip, chewing on it in thought as you furrow your brows. Sure, the topic might seem simple enough on the surface, but the fact that it’s so broad is exactly what unnerves you.

Having a chosen topic is good as a guideline, even more so when you know precisely what your favourite scenery is. With the addition of inspiration and motivation, it’d be a breeze to complete.

The problem is, you have none of the above.

You’re not sure what scenery you enjoy, much less have a favourite. Sure, sunsets are pretty, and skyscrapers are cool, but not much really struck you as deeply. You’re made aware of Miss Dawson gesturing for you to come over to her desk, hesitantly standing up and walking there while everyone else is discussing among themselves about the topic given.

You part your lips to greet her, only to be cut off when she holds out her hand expectantly. You huff, handing her your sketchbook. She flips through the pages, frowning slightly when she sees the random doodles and mindless sketches until she stops on a specific one.

She hums, taking in whatever’s on the page. You can’t remember what you’ve drawn, but you’re more than reluctant to admit how much of a slump you’ve been in lately. It’s not like you can come into class, declaring your lack of talent whilst waving your hands in the air.

You focus on Miss Dawson's makeshift jar of pencils on her desk, recalling someone else gifting it to her for Teacher’s Day. The blunt nibs are a testament to how much she uses them, a bedazzled one drawing your attention. You pick it up, observing the tiny sequins firmly glued to the wood with a fascinated gaze. 

You flinch when Miss Dawson suddenly clears her throat, automatically moving your hands behind your back and focusing your attention back on her. “So, I assume you had an encounter with our city’s local hero?”

“How’d you know?” You ask, eyes wide in surprise. 

She simply turns the sketchbook around to face you, the sketch you’d made last night of Spiderman clear as day. Your cheeks warm, the drawing having slipped your mind. “Looking through your sketchbook, it’s obvious that you’ve been in a slump, honey. But this sketch…This is really good, maybe even one of the better ones you’ve done.”

“Thank you?” You’re not sure if she just complimented or insulted you. 

“Seeing him must have helped your inspiration somewhat, didn’t it?”

“I guess so. I dunno, it’s not like a switch I can turn on and off anytime I want.”

“Well, you’ll have to learn how to keep it on. And for this assignment in particular, I want you to focus not just on your favourite scenery. I want you to focus on what exactly makes it your favourite.” Miss Dawson hands the sketchbook back to you with a knowing smile, and you take it from her unsurely.

“Right…” You return to your desk with one dismissive wave from her hand, sitting back down with a defeated groan. You prop your chin onto your hand, staring at the sketch blankly.

An art slump is the worst. Besides, it’s just a drawing of Spiderman; although it is admittedly some of your best work, it’s not like you can just channel that again at the snap of your fingers.

You need inspiration. You need motivation. You need….a muse, which can only mean one thing.

You’re gonna attempt to find Spiderman.

Attempt #1: Have a friendly run-in!

“This is such a bad idea; why am I even trying to find a superhero? I’m literally just going to ask him to be my muse and he’s gonna say no, which is gonna be so embarrassing and I’ll never be able to show my face around here again and what if next time I’m being robbed he turns away because it’s me??”

“Okay, calm down. He’s not going to turn away because he rejected you, or he wouldn’t be a superhero. Also, you’re literally being paranoid because I’m not there with you.” 

You frown, pulling your phone away from your ear to check if it really is Nicole you’re calling. “That’s not true.”

“I know when you’re lying.”

“Okay, maybe I’m being slightly paranoid, but for good reason! Why can’t you just come with me? You’re good at getting people to do what you want.” 

Nicole’s soft chuckle somewhat relieves you, knowing she took it as a compliment. “I’d come over, but I have to help plan the outing with the group, remember? And I’m not the one with a ride to an Art Academy on the line - you are.”

“Wait, outing?”

“Yeah, remember this morning? You’ll meet Miles then; I think you’d get along. Anyway, you’ll do fine. Michael told me Spidey swings by the hotdog cart every Tuesday, so I guess it’s reliable information.” Nicole reassures you, though her last few emotions are filled with a tinge of doubt. She pulls the phone away to mumble something to someone, and you’re sure it’s an insult based on the irritated bite in her voice when she returns to the phone.

“Fine, I’ll see you tomorrow then…” You say reluctantly, unwilling to hang up the phone.

“Yeah, bye.”

The monotonous dial tone greets your ears after Nicole’s curt goodbye. You shut off your phone, flipping your sketchbook to an empty page with a sigh. You rifle through your pencil case, picking up the sequined pencil you’d accidentally taken from Miss Dawson and tapping it against the blank paper.

Draw your favourite scenery.

You look around, taking in the vibrant green trees and serene lake, the joyful laughter of children and parents filling the air. It’s peaceful. Dogs wander around, some leashed and some set loose. One approaches you, but you wave it away, flinching when it gets too close for comfort. It’s no longer peaceful.

“You can go away now…” You mumble, poking its side to hopefully urge it to move away from you. Your legs automatically move up to the bench, drawing your knees close to your chest. “Shoo, bad dog! Where’s your owner?” You glance up to check if their owner is nearby, only for your bedazzled pencil to be snatched out of your hands.

“Hey!” You exclaim angrily, reaching out to grab it from the dog’s mouth. You hesitate when you see the dog drool dripping onto the end of the pencil, eyeing it with a shudder. You take a moment to steel yourself, grabbing the slimy end with as much force as possible, trying to yank it free from its mouth. 

“Let go of my stuff! That’s not yours! I have to return it to Miss Dawson, you stupid dog!” Your grip slips, and you land on the ground with a yelp, wincing when your knee gets scraped by the coarse dirt through your ripped jeans. 

“Give it back!” You demand, lurching yourself forward and grabbing the pencil again. However, the dog growls playfully, thinking of it as nothing more than a game for entertainment. “This is why,” You grunt between shallow breaths, “I prefer cats!”

Your sketchbook had fallen beside you, the beautiful cover now stained with dirt. You narrow your eyes into a glare, scowling at the dog. “Let go!” 

It finally does, maybe because it sensed that you wouldn’t be playing with it. You fall back once more, your back hitting the ground harshly. The breath is instantly knocked out of your chest, and you inhale deeply, trying to force more air back into your lungs with a choked gasp. 

You sit back up, holding the pencil up victoriously until you remember that there’s dog drool all over your hand. You groan in disgust, searching for a tissue to wipe it off. Wait. Your sketchbook is missing. 

You look around frantically, only to see the exact same dog from earlier now burying a half-open sketchbook into the dirt. Your sketchbook. A strangled yell rips itself from your throat, practically throwing yourself at it with a glare that could rival even Karen herself. You push the dog away, scrabbling at the dirt to uncover your almost completely buried sketchbook. 

“Bye, Spiderman!” Your head instantly turns at the sentence, spotting the familiar black silhouette nodding his thanks to the hotdog cart owner, his hotdog securely held in his hand. He flicks his free hand and shoots a web onto the side of a building, beginning to leave.

“Wait! I have a ques-” 

He swings off into the distance, already blocks away in the span of a few seconds without hearing your cry. Your arm falls to your side, collapsing back onto the ground to catch your breath while your sketchbook lies buried in the dirt. 

Damn it.

Attempt #2: Get Mugged!

“God, I hope this works,” You mumble. The streets around you are dimly lit, and you’re armed with nothing more than your bulky pencil case and a whistle, both stored in the deep pockets of your hoodie. The handbag containing your wallet and phone bumps against your waist, the strap loosely slung across your shoulder.

You’re the perfect walking target to be mugged.

Granted, this is probably one of the worst ideas you’ve had in the history of bad ideas. The chilly Brooklyn night breeze tickles your ears with an icy breath, and your body gives an involuntary shiver. You scan the empty streets hopefully. When was Spiderman – or better yet, a robber, going to show up?

Whether it was desperation or pure adrenaline driving you forward at this point, you couldn’t tell.

But you’re here, and you’re determined to see things through.

Minutes pass of you wandering the dark streets like a fool, and you’re just about to head back home when you sense that something’s off. Your steps slow, and you hear someone else’s shoes scuffle a short distance behind you. 

You start to speed up, fingers gripping the heavy pencil case in your pocket. You’d been hit by it before by accident and did not get away unscathed by any means. Your heartbeat quicks its pace in your chest, sensing them get closer with each step. 

There he is.

You finally spot Spiderman chilling on the roof of a nearby apartment building, breaking into a run. The mugger behind you grunts in surprise, and you hear him start to run as well. Your breaths are short and ragged, and you finally reach just below the building. 

“Stop right there, missy!” Looking up from where you’ve bent over to catch your breath, you see the sharp knife blade held up at you. The robber is slouching, just as out of breath as you are. However, he straightens his back and flashes you a yellow-toothed smirk from under his cap, and you shudder at the bits of dirt clearly seen in his beard. 

You hold your arms up in surrender, risking a quick glance up, only for Spiderman to jump down and land smoothly right in front of you. “Hey man, didn’t your mother ever tell you not to play around with sharp objects?” He tuts, shaking his head as he uses his web shooter to tug the knife away from the robber.

The knife lands in his hands with ease, the robber immediately turning to flee. “I don’t like doing this bit, but you leave me no choice!” Spiderman does a quick frontflip and lands before the robber, grabbing his shoulder and tilting his head. “You should’ve known better,” You hear him scold, and spot a light blue electric current flowing from his fingers to the robber, knocking him unconscious. 

Spiderman lets go, taking a surprised step back as the robber falls to the floor, unconscious. He winces, dusting off his hands and walking toward you. “You shouldn’t come out here during the night,” He chides playfully, grabbing the knife that had fallen to the floor when he caught the mugger. “You’d be in a lot of trouble if I wasn’t here.”

“Yeah, thank you. Actually, I wanted to ask-”

“Whoop.” He cuts you off, glancing at his watch, “I’d love to stay and chat, but duty calls! You’re gonna want to take a right down here, another left, and then one more right and you’ll be at the main street. Stay safe!” He gestures down to a more brightly lit street, patting your back before shooting his web shooter at a nearby building.

“Wait- Ugh,” You groan in defeat, watching him swing off again without hearing your question. Your arm is outstretched, fingers barely brushing against his arm before he leaves. 

DAMN IT.

Attempt #3: If he doesn’t stop and listen to the goddamn question, you’re going to lose it.

“Calm down, pinto.”

“I spilt pinto beans on myself, one time, people. One. Time.” You frown, crossing your arms. Nicole smirks, shrugging nonchalantly in response. 

“Yeah, yeah. Michael told me that he saw your Spidey boy swing around the taco truck down the street a couple times every Thursday, so we should keep a lookout. Don’t want your sketchbook taken away from you again, do we?” 

“How does Michael even know all this?” You mumble. 

“Look, we don’t ask him questions, and he doesn’t ask us any. It’s a two-way street, pinto. Use those brains of yours.” You shove Nicole lightly with a roll of your eyes. Falling back, she leans against a wall, immediately pulling out her phone and scrolling through it. 

God, she has a serious internet addiction. You choose to scan the crowd instead, your gaze sweeping over the kids from the Brooklyn Visions Academy filling the street, having just gotten out of their clubs. You look somewhat out of place with your own uniform, shuffling your feet slightly when they glance over with confused gazes. 

You raise your brows in response to a few of them, and they leave with a haughty scoff. You roll your eyes. Stuck up snobs, the lot of them. Hopefully, the information Michael provided is accurate, though you’re sure you’ll never know where he gets it from. 

“Hey, is the bowling alley chill with you for the hangout? Miles sucks at bowling, so we can team up to obliterate the boys.” 

“Sure,” You reply absentmindedly, only to pause and turn to face her. “Is he not free to meet up before, though? I’d like to get to know him first, so it won’t be as awkward.” 

“Nah,” Nicole frowns at her screen, “He’s busy on all the days I suggested. Something about homework and stuff. Maybe he’s turned into one of the snobs.” She puts her phone away with a snort. “Also, there’s your Spidey-guy.”

“What?” True enough, he’s at the taco truck right now, ordering a taco and waiting patiently. Spiderman has to have lunch breaks too, you suppose. You watch him tap his fingers against the metal table, bobbing his head along to a beat playing in his mind.

You grit your teeth, grab your bag and keep your now clean sketchbook, having wiped off all the dirt with a cloth and the best surface cleaner you own back home. Your eyes shine with a determined glint, practically marching through the crowd to him.

“Hey!” You stumble back, looking down at the bright yellow mustard on your pristine white shirt. “Are you kidding me?” You growl in frustration, looking up to see a girl dressed in the Brooklyn Visions uniform holding up her ruined basket of fries, the small toppled tub now on its side and most of the sauce on you.

“Watch where you’re going!” She huffs, looking at you with pure disdain. 

“Watch where I’m going? Watch where you’re going!” 

Oh God, please let him still be there-

Spiderman is holding his taco now, trying to slip away through the crowd. Your eyes narrow into a glare, pushing past the girl with a muttered apology, running as fast as possible to catch up to the superhero.

You spot him jogging into an alleyway, following suit. You stop, however, when you see that it’s empty. “What?” You mumble, looking around frantically for him. You hear a loud coo, looking up to see the very hero you’re looking for crawling along the wall of the Academy dorms. 

“Wha-?” Now you’re baffled. You watch him reach a specific window, using an arm to open it and enter before sliding it shut behind him. Three floors up and the last one down the hall. Got it. You run to the entrance, only to be stopped by a security guard.

“Woah, woah, woah. Only students of Brooklyn Visions Academy are allowed inside.” He chuckles, holding a hand in front of you to stop you from entering. 

“No, you don’t understand! I need to talk to someone inside.” You try to plead, but he merely raises his brows. 

“Okay, what’s their name?”

“W-well. You see, here’s the thing.” You laugh nervously, rubbing the back of your neck. 

“Mmhm. Come back when you have their name, and I’ll call them down for you, okay?” He dismisses you, using his hands to turn your shoulders around. He pats your back slightly, sending you on your way.

You frown, brows furrowing in thought for a way to get in. Maybe Nicole would have an idea. She’s eerily good at stuff like this. Your feet pound against the pavement in a steady rhythm as you run back to where you had left her waiting.

“Nic!” You call out, panting heavily once you reach the girl who’s still in the same position as when you left. “I need help; I gotta sneak into the dorms of the snob school.” You say through your gulps for air, your lungs screaming for more oxygen.

“You need to sneak in?” She asks, looking up from her phone with raised brows.

“Yeah. I can’t explain right now, but I really need your help.” You confirm breathlessly.

She mulls over your plea for a moment before shrugging, moving away from the wall and pocketing her phone. She stretches her arm above her head momentarily. “Stay here.” She orders before stepping out of the alleyway and out of your sight. 

You wait, albeit impatiently, tapping your foot as urgency consumes you. Nicole soon returns with the Academy’s blazer in her hands, tossing it at you with a grin. “Got it for free; you can keep it. I gotta go for a study session. Will you be okay on your own?”

“Yeah, thanks, Nic.” She never fails to impress you every time. You thank her quickly before returning to the dorm entrance, wearing the blazer on the way. You halt once you reach it, keeping your head down and fastening the buttons securely, hiding the bright yellow stain on your shirt. 

God, it’s probably going to get onto the blazer too, you wince. Spotting a group of girls walking into the entrance, you jog over and stick close to them, walking past the security guard from earlier. 

Once you’re inside, your tense shoulders sag with relief, a massive weight being lifted off your chest. The atrium is pretty cool, but you don’t have time to admire any architecture right now. You glance at the two winding staircases, signs directing the students to the boys' or girls' side.

You recall the window being on the right side of the building, walking up the respective staircase. Luckily, not many students are around. Most of them have gone out. 

Third floor, last room down the hall.

You take the lift up, exchanging an awkward smile with another girl who’s clearly sneaking in as well. She gets off at the second floor, and you spam the button to close the lift doors. As soon as they close, you practically collapse against the wall with a long, drawn-out sigh of relief.

The lift doors open to the third floor. You peek your head out, looking around. Good, there’s no one.

Stepping out of the lift, you pause. Do you go right, left, or straight? From what you recall of the exterior structure, you’re pretty sure it’s the hall on your left. Steeling your resolve, you walk down the carpeted floor, your footsteps muffled. 

There it is, the room at the end of the hallway. You raise your hand, knocking on the hard wood once, twice, three times.

Silence is all that greets you.

“Is anyone there?” You call out softly. When no one responds, you grip the doorknob just to check. To your surprise, however, the door swings open with a single push, revealing the room inside. 

It wasn’t locked.

“Pardon my intrusion….” 

You step over a pile of clothes on the floor, your nose scrunching at the smell. Deodorant and musk fill the air. A picture frame sits on a desk to your left, with a photo of a short boy.

That can’t be him; his stature is too different.

Another picture sits on a small nightstand, and you pick it up to see a familiar face. The boy in the picture with his family is tall, with chocolate brown eyes and raven-black hair. You frown, tilting your head. Where had you seen him before…?

A soft thud draws your attention. Something had fallen to the floor from where it was squashed between the bedframe of the bunk bed and another piece of furniture. You bend down, picking it up. 

Spiderman’s mask hangs loosely in your grasp.

You look multiple times from the mask and the poorly-hidden suit to the picture, finally connecting the dots. You pull out your phone, hurriedly texting the one person who could confirm your surefire theory.

yo, Nic. send me the picture of the guy - Miles, i think? - Read, 2pm

Sure ig. dont go stalking him tho - Nicole, 2pm.

The strong vibration of your phone alerts you to a new text. You look down, thankful for Nicole’s fast reply. Opening the text, an image of the ever-so-elusive Miles Morales fills your screen. 

Oh my god.

Your eyes widen, your suspicions confirmed.

It can't be.

But it's the only explanation that makes sense. 

Miles Morales is Spiderman. Spiderman is Miles Morales.

You hide the mask back where it's dropped out of its hiding place, swallowing thickly when you hear the lift ding, making your swift exit.

Rushing down the hall, the last thing you expect is to bump against the very boy you’ve been looking for. You don’t dare risk a glance, recognising him just by his shoes alone. Ignoring his apology, you run off, making your exit.

Once you exit the dorm entrance, most of the tension leaves your body. Making your way back home, your mind reels from the discovery.

Miles Morales is Spiderman.

While you slip away from his notice, Miles spots something in his peripheral vision. His suit had fallen slightly out of his hiding place. Thinking nothing of it, he goes to stuff it back in when he sees a small spot of yellow on the side of his mask.

Yellow?

He brings the mask up to his nose and takes a sniff. His brows furrow at the familiar scent.

...Mustard?

He wipes it off with a shrug.

[c-e-d-dreamer]

Just Looking At You Got Me Thinking Nonsense

A/N: happy Day Four of @nestaarcheronweek! Sometimes, to really be a lover, you have to risk it all in a bidding war, ya know? This was a fun little fic to write, and I want to give a big ole shout-out to the Anon who sent me this prompt! I hope everyone enjoys :)

Read on AO3

Cassian digs his phone out of his back pocket, opening back up the group chat and the most recent messages still waiting there. With a nod, he pockets the phone again, rolling out his shoulders. There’s a glass case full of pictures and some sort of awards on the wall opposite him, and Cassian uses it as a makeshift mirror. He’s always had a bad habit of running his fingers through his hair when he’s nervous, and now his curls are a tangled mess as a result.

A door opening down the hall has Cassian almost jumping out of his skin. He turns just in time to see the exact woman he’s here for walking down the hall, her arm looped with a red head that Cassian is pretty sure was in his trig class last year.

“Trust me, it will be over before you know it,” the red head says as they walk.

“Until I have to sit through some stupid dinner after… You’re lucky that I love you.”

“I know, and I am lucky you’re doing this with me. I don’t know what I’d do if I had to go up there alone.”

“Hey, Nes,” Cassian calls in greeting when they’re close enough, raising his hand in a wave.

Whether she doesn’t hear him or is just ignoring him, Cassian isn’t sure. But both women don’t acknowledge him, walking through another door further down the hall. One that, he presumes, leads into the large hall.

“I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you,” Cassian mumbles to himself, letting his hand drop back to his side. “Idiot.”

“Idiot is certainly one word I’d use to describe you.”

Azriel’s low chuckle echoes Rhys’s remark, and Cassian turns to glare at both his brothers. He knocks his shoulders against both of them, leading the way back toward the front of the building and the main doors into the hall. There’s more laughter, but at least his brothers fall into step behind him. He doesn’t have time for their teasing. Not tonight at least. This is his one chance, and he’ll be damned if he fucks it up, if he loses it. He needs to focus.

Cassian knew that Nesta Archeron was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen the first time he saw her walk into his gen-ed English lecture earlier this semester. Her blue gray eyes had been piercing beneath the lights of the lecture hall, and Cassian wanted to dive into them and drown in them right in that moment. Even more so when he watched her roll those eyes at something said at the front of the lecture hall.

Gods, he wanted to make those eyes roll.

He was sure that the Mother must be smiling down on him when Nesta had ended up in his seminar after the lecture too. It was clear that she was smart. That she had a passion for books. That she didn’t take any bullshit. He could sit and watch and listen to her in that seminar for the rest of his life and be happy. And when she absolutely eviscerated Tamlin for his “analysis” of Lolita, Cassian had been ready to drop to his knees right then and there.

It made him try harder. He made sure he actually paid attention in the lecture, made sure he did the readings, made sure he came to each and every seminar with his analysis prepared in hopes of impressing her. He wasn't sure it was working or not, but sometimes, he swore he saw her lips twitch with the barest hint of a smile, of a smirk, when he spoke. He swore that sometimes he could feel her gaze on him when he wasn't looking.

And then, one day, he’d walked into the seminar room to find the seat next to Nesta open. He’d practically stumbled over his own feet in his rush to slide into that open seat, earning an amused head shake from Kallias. Using the few minutes before the seminar started, Cassian had called her Nes and gotten a withering glare in response. He was sure the look was meant to cut him down where he sat, but it only stoked the embers in his chest into a full wildfire, only made him grin wider.

It became a game after that. Every seminar, he’d take the seat beside Nesta, and every seminar, he’d spark a back and forth between them. He cataloged every look, every response he was able to draw out of Nesta. Every eye roll. Every derisive snort. Every sarcastic quip. He got drunk off it all and kept coming back for more and more. And when he made Nesta blush, the pretty pink spreading across her cheeks, he knew that was it for him.

He spent the whole rest of the week after that trying to figure out the best way to ask Nesta out, sure that she wouldn’t appreciate being asked in front of their whole seminar group. He wondered if it would be weird to ask her to speak to him after the seminar, prayed to the Mother to take pity on him, and blessedly, take pity on him she did. It’s what led Cassian to finding out that Nesta was pledged to Mor’s sorority.

How he found out that she would be here tonight.

One of the sorority members greets Cassian and his brothers when they step through the doors to the hall, her name tag reading Deidre. She holds out three paddles, but Rhys and Azriel both wave her off, only Cassian taking one. Lucky number nineteen, just like his jersey. They settle into seats at an empty table, and then it’s just a waiting game.

It doesn’t take long before Mor is stepping out onto the stage, giving her welcoming speech as president, but any words she says fade away as soon as the women participating tonight walk onto the stage. As soon as Cassian catches sight of Nesta. Her dress is a silky, silvery blue that, along with the stage lights, brings out the blue of her eyes, and the hem is short enough to show off the stretch of her legs. She has that look on her face that’s Cassian’s favorite, and just the sight of her has his mouth going dry. She’s gorgeous.

“And next up we have Nesta Archeron.” Cassian’s attention snaps back to Mor. “She’s pre-law and minoring in English. She loves romance novels, so you better be ready to bring out all the stops if you’re the lucky one who gets to take her on a date. Now, we’ll start the bidding at–”

“One hundred dollars,” Cassian calls out before Mor can finish, jumping up to his feet and holding up his paddle.

“Mother save us,” Rhys mutters under his breath.

“Wow. That’s…” Mor clears her throat. “That’s quite generous. I guess we’ll be starting the bidding at one hundred.”

“One fifty.”

Anger flares low in Cassian’s gut at the second bid, and it burns even brighter when he turns his head and finds the owner of the voice. Eris Vanserra. Cassian has hated the man ever since he had the misfortune of sharing a class with him freshman year. Ever since he watched him stroll into a college class wearing designer clothes and look down on everyone. He’s pompous, pretentious, and has a face practically asking for Cassian to punch.

And punching Eris’s snooty face is definitely something Cassian’s fist itches to do right now.

“Two hundred,” Cassian declares, turning back toward the stage.

“Two fifty,” Eris echoes.

“Two seventy five.”

“Three hundred.”

“Holy shit,” Mor mutters before seemingly remembering that she has a microphone in her hands. “I mean wow. That’s officially our highest bid. Ever. Do we have a response?”

“Five. Hundred.”

Gasps and murmurs of surprise sweep through the room at Cassian’s announcement. He glances toward where Nesta still stands on stage, her eyes wide and pink settled high on her cheeks. But those wide eyes are pinned on him, not Eris, not Mor, and her attention has his heart stuttering between his ribs, has it tugging toward the stage as though she holds the thread so firmly wrapped around it.

He dares to toss Nesta a wink before turning to smirk at Eris, but Vanserra is still lounging casually in his seat with a sort of cool arrogance that ice starts to prickle beneath Cassian’s skin.

“Five fifty,” Eris declares, eyes cutting toward Cassian with a smirk of his own.

“Fucking prick,” Cassian mutters under his breath before he leans down to speak to Rhys. “Okay, I’m going to need to borrow more than what we originally agreed to.”

Rhys sighs, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. “Seriously, Cass? This is getting a little absurd for a single date.”

“She’s worth it.”

“Is she? You know, I’ve heard stories, and–”

“Fuck you,” Cassian growls, turning back toward the stage before he runs out of time. “Five seventy five!”

“He’s clearly dedicated. You’ve got to give him that,” Azriel mutters with a low chuckle.

“You know Vanserra’s not going to stop, right?” Rhys adds, his tone almost bored.

As if in answer, Eris’s voice rings out again. “Six hundred.”

“Seven hundred,” Cassian calls out quickly before dropping his voice again. “If you’re so worried about your rich boy checkbook, then do something about it.”

“What am I supposed to do about it?”

“Seven fifty,” Eris’s voice drowns out Rhys’s question.

“Alright,” Azriel sighs, pushing up to his feet. “This is just sad to watch now.”

Cassian sighs as his brother walks away, knocking his fist against the table in frustration. “Eight fifty!”

He waits for Eris’s answering bid, but there’s only silence ringing out in the hall. Cassian’s brow pinches in confusion, and he snaps his attention back toward Eris’s table. The man in question is on his feet, standing toe to toe with Azriel. There’s a suspicious looking stain across Eris’s shirt, and his lips are pulled back in a sneer.

Whatever lashing Eris is giving for his now ruined designer shirt, Azriel takes it unfazed. He merely reaches for a napkin, the movement nothing short of sensual as he wipes it against Eris’s shirt, against his chest and down his stomach. Even from across the room Cassian can see the way Eris’s face has turned a color to match his face.

With Eris thoroughly distracted, Cassian looks back toward the stage, raising his eyebrows pointedly at Mor.

“Oh! Right,” Mor speaks into the microphone. “We have eight fifty. Do we have higher than eight fifty?” Cassian motions with his hand to hurry up. “Eight fifty going once. Going twice. Sold for eight fifty.”

Cassian falls back into his seat with a relieved sigh, unable to bite back the wide grin that pulls across his face. He did it, he was the highest bid. He gets to see Nesta outside of their lecture, outside of their seminar. He gets to spend time with her one on one and to find out what really makes her tick.

He gets to take Nesta Archeron on a date.

He’s practically bouncing on his feet waiting for the rest of the women to have their bidding, for the evening to come to a close. He all but jumps back up to his feet, plucking the check from between Rhys’s fingers. The look on Mor’s face is all too knowing when he hands over the money, but even that doesn’t deter him.

He gets to take Nesta Archeron on a date.

“Eight hundred fifty dollars, huh?”

Cassian spins around to come face to face with the exact woman in question, her arms crossed and her expression unimpressed. But Cassian has learned a lot sitting next to Nesta this semester, and he recognizes the light sparking in her blue eyes, the slight pinch at the corner of her lips. Try as she might, she can’t hide her amusement from him.

“What can I say, sweetheart?” Cassian drawls, grin still wide. “I’m quite dedicated to getting what I want.”

“Oh? Is that why you pulled that stunt with Eris?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. That was merely Azriel flirting.”

Nesta laughs, and it’s already Cassian’s favorite sound, a sound he wants to draw out of her again and again. “He flirts by spilling drinks on people?”

“Everyone has their own version of flirting. Look at us, with our back and forth.”

That comment does earn him an eye roll, Cassian’s blood singing and his heart soaring at the reaction. He dares to step even closer to Nesta, until he has to tip his chin down to keep smirking at her. Dares to reach up between them for a stray strand of Nesta’s hair and tug on it teasingly. Dares to tease the backs of his fingers along her now pinkening cheeks.

“You might actually be crazy, you know.”

“Only because you make me that way, Nes.”

—

Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @moodymelanist @nesquik-arccheron @sv0430 @talkfantasytome @bookstantrash @eirini-thaleia @ubigaia @fromthelibraryofemilyj @luivagr-blog @lifeisntafantasy @superspiritfestival @hiimheresworld @marigold-morelli @sweet-pea1 @emeriethevalkyriegirl @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @dongjunma @glowing-stick-generation @melonsfantasyworld @lady-nestas @goddess-aelin @melphss @theladystardust @a-trifling-matter @blueunoias @kookskoocie @wolfnesta @blurredlamplight @hereforthenessian @skaixo @jmoonjones @burningsnowleopard @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @ofduskanddreams @rarephloxes @thelovelymadone @books-books-books4ever @tenaciousdiplomatloverprune @that-little-red-head @readergalaxy @thesnugglingduck @kale-theteaqueen @tarquindaddy @superflurry @bri-loves-sunflowers @lady-winter-sunrise @witch-and-her-witcher @fieldofdaisiies

[pen-observing]

warm.

synopsis: Call him selfish but he can't help wanting your gaze to be directed at him.

Dottore x reader (gn!) word count: 1k warnings:  jealousy (slight), Akademiya Dottore aka. Zandik is the name he goes by, the other dude is Alhaitham's predecessor, non-established relationship.

He doesn’t like to admit it, but just like everyone else at the Akademiya, he has to follow a schedule. It is one thing to have assigned classes with professors he either admires or looks down upon while being forced to listen to them run their mouth. But, perhaps, what is even worse – is that every student has their own habits that come to constitute a schedule. He knows who is going to get their fortune read from coffee grains right at dawn (because apparently, they are more accurate); if they had true things a dedicated scholar needed, they would not rely on something so arbitrary. He knows just where his peers go to rest – and he hates that he knows your schedules aren’t aligned with his during this time.

It is one thing to be in different darshans so that he cannot gain access to you for a week, but it is a completely different thing to finish one of his secret small-scale experiments and to come back only to see your gaze resting on someone else. Someone he doesn’t even know the name of. Are they not unworthy of it? Of your warmth? 

Zandik’s schedule includes others being fascinated with his mind and talent. If he finishes a lab experiment, both peers and professors stay behind to ask him questions. He isn’t blind to how his knowledge, personality and handsome looks if gossip is anything to go by – attracted awe. When he comes back to the Akademiya with visible exhaustion written all over his face; it is no surprise that his ‘fan club’ rushes to greet him in the hallways, to extend their homecooked meals or quick snacks and drinks to him. He thanks them, but he never takes theirs – he always finds a way to pester you into giving him one bite and one sip of your own lunch. 

What would he say he thinks of you? He finds you interesting and intriguing. Synonyms in his mind that belong to you are: warmth, passion and empathy. Some of those he knows he is starting to lack. In the start, you would greet him just like everyone else, you would chat about unimportant things like the weather if both of you were waiting for a professor on their floor, you would congratulate him without any jealousy on his own achievements.  

Something kept telling him to seek you out, during lunch or study hours in the library. He simply wanted to know more about you. And while he deems your passion a true necessity for a scholar, your mind almost as brilliant as his own – he always felt that you would be too soft for this man-hinders-man world without him.  

So just who is that standing by your side right now? And why is your hand resting on his arm? Dottore knows the deepest colors of your eyes (because he was curious enough to hold your face one night under the starlight) – he has grown so fond of your eyelashes (because they give away who you are gazing at fondly, because you always make a wish with them) – so why is everything he considers charming looking at someone else? 

“Zandik!”, says the female researcher he knows is plagiarising her thesis, “Please take some of my homemade cookies.”  

He stands still in the circle of his admirers, but he barely hears her or anyone else because your hand just brushed the shoulder of that man.   Call him egotistical or attention seeking, but whoever that person is – they are unworthy.   He moves away the girl’s hand, says a quick excuse me that he does not mean, and starts walking in your direction.  

The man has a dumbstruck look on his face as you talk. Zandik thinks you carry your emotions on your face so loudly that he could grow to advise you against it. You give it away – you are impressed with that unknown man. 

Every step he takes towards you gives him a new idea on how to approach this situation. Rudely interrupt, barge in with his own topic; grab your hand and drag you away while talking about the rain; simply stand there and glare at the man. All of those options fill him with different kinds of joy but then he settles on the next one that comes to mind.  

Instead of any of that, Zandik walks up and hugs you from behind. Nothing odd surely? You two would exchange quick hugs as greetings and as a goodbye at the end of the day. But what is new is this situation, this proximity to it, he can’t help but rest his head against your shoulder before he says good morning, in that deep honeyed voice. In the background he can hear the sound of something hitting the ground. Must be the cookies he refused earlier. 

“W-What? Ugh Zandik! What is wrong with you? Where did you come from?!” 

Good, now your attention is on him. He still doesn’t let you go, instead he raises his eyebrows up at the man completely frozen and suddenly lost in such a way that it almost looks like he is rolling his eyes. He wins this round.  

“What is wrong with me, huh? I was just cold and you are very warm-blooded.”   “I don’t remember being a stove. Move.” 

Ah, there it is, your personality he finds more charming than anything. Could you be telling him to move because of this man? He rolls his eyes again and detaches himself from you, losing your warmth.  

“I-I will see you around!”   Good, the man is already leaving the hallway and not even looking at you anymore. Dottore finds himself pleased as he leans against the wall. 

“Who was that boring guy you were talking to just now?”  “Alhayith? He is my project partner.”  

He should really adjust his schedule to keep a better track of yours. Perhaps he should become a double major?  

“I see.” He doesn’t want to keep talking about him.   “Do you have food?”  “I do. I am not letting you have a single bite this time.”  

You’re already walking away and he follow you. 

“What if I tell you I haven’t had any food in exactly 15 hours and 38 minutes?”  “Fine.” You say it with a sigh. “You get 3 bites and 2 sips.” 

a/n: If you give him more than 3 bites you are a simp and he doesn't deserve them!

[teddybeartoji]

mickey i am kissing ur brain so gently i literally just woke up but i saw the bi!toji post ……… 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 REAL & CANON BTW but for some reason the first thought that popped into my head was. uni au….. janitor!toji/professor!reader…………….. hear me out.

toji who just stopped working as an assassin and is trying to get his life together, who just happened to land a job as a janitor at a prestigious university that he takes fairly seriously…. (i just knowww he hates littering students with every fibre of his being. catches them in the act and reaches for his gun out of old habit LMAO) and there’s this nerdy little professor who always arrives at the uni first thing in the morning, without fail, and always gives toji a cheery little greeting when he does. wearing his cozy sweaters and vests and scarves and smiling all bright and sleepy. and for some reason he almost always takes his coffee breaks conveniently close to wherever toji is cleaning… so they can chat a bit….. even though toji usually just listens and grunts every now and then.

and at first toji feels kinda Threatened by this pretty boy bc ???? whyyyy is he interrupting my precious cleaning time. is he trying to supervise me? show off his fancy degrees??? …. reader has the fattest crush on him but toji genuinely doesn’t realize bc he’s wired to always mistrust others :// meanwhile reader is watching him clean internally going what the fuck what the fuckkk why is he wearing a compression shirt it’s literally fucking freezing??? is he teasing me???? does he know?????? they’re both losers actually. big romcom vibes

BUT YEAH i just picture professor!reader being a sleepy but cheery little guy….. who loves loves loves teaching and talking about his subject of choice and toji starts to really enjoy their talks bc reader’s eyes shine soooo brightly when he’s chattering away… all excited and gleaming….. and toji kinda hates teachers but he decides to make an exception this once. maybe starts to initiate conversations of his own every now and then… who knows…………….

OK THAT’S ALL PDHJDDHJF 😭😭 this came to me in a vision and ofc i had to share…. imagine me at a board meeting pointing at my little graphs and powerpoints while u sit in a big ceo chair overlooking the city… pondering janitor!toji and the future of this company…... mickey ur posts genuinely make me fully insane i hope u know that. bi!toji is real and loves you specifically btw <333333 I HOPE U HAVE A LOVELY DAY MWAH :3

ARIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII I NEED TO KISS U RN!!!

LIKE THIS ISN'T OKAY BY ANY MEANS HOW DID YOU COOK THIS UP AND WHY IS IT LITERALLY PERFECT AND ALSO HOW IS IT SO IN LINE WITH WHAT I HAD IN MY HEAD?????????????? HOW???????

OKAY FIRST OF ALL WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT PROFESSOR!READER KIND OF BEING LIKE TAKEDA FROM HAIKYUUUU??????????????? LIKE THAT'S IMMEDIATELY HOW HE POPPED INTO MY HEAD AND NOW I CAN'T STOP IMAGINING HIM LIKE THAT I ALS OCAN'T TAKE OFF THE CAPS LOCK BC I'M GENUINELY SO INVESTED IN THIS FUCKING AU IT'S INSANE

but yeah he's always wearing the comfiest fits just like u said - sweaters, vests, a button-up shirt and a colorful tie sometimes (he was super nervous about wearing the tie at first bc he thought he'd look stupid but he got over it and now he has a rule of wearing a tie at least once a week)(canon). when it's cold he's wearing an oversized coat and an equally big scarf and toji thinks it's very cute i mean what who said that.

another thing just popped into my head when u called him a sleepy guy..... what if it's already like afternoon and all of the students are gone and the professor was supposed to be grading their papers or smth but when toji happens to walk by his class he's just sleeping on the table............... PLSSSS I THINK IT'S SO CUTEE i can see it so clearly in my head the professor's glasses are really weirdly on his face and his mouth is open with a bit of drool spilling out lmao and at first toji just shakes his head like damn this guy is stupid but then he realizes that he's smiling? that his own lips just curved into a small smile all on their own and he's kinda freaked out about it and leaves really fast hasgahsaghshgagsha HE'S A LITTLE AWKWARD SOMETIMES OKAY even big scary teddy bears have their little love moments yk

my immediate thought was that toji would actually be the one to develop the crush first btw................ and he'd be a little like ???? maybe this is his first real male crush? and the reader is just kind of oblivious to it like he thinks that yk toji seems like the straighest guy on the first glance lmao and he thinks that he doesn't have a chance but hehehehehe he's very wrong IDK WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT THAT i wanna know

DON'T GET ME WRONG THOUGH I DO REALLYREALLY LIKE the reader kind of thirsting over him hihihihihi he's so real for that AND I LOVE THE IDEA OF TOJI EVENTUALLY STARTING MORE CONVOS!!!!!! FUCK OFFF HE'S SOO SWEET AAAAAAAAA i love him so much have i said that already

who do you think would take the step to go further though? IN YOUR SCENARIO I MEAN it would obviously take time. a lot of it. bc toji is well... like he is and the professor is nervous and he's kind of afraid to overstep even though he likes him sooooo much... okay i kinda feel like toji would....... and it almost makes the poor professor have a heart attack bc WHAT? hihihihiihi stoppppppppppppp i can see them both in my head soooo clearly and i'm so fucking in love with them they're so cute aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

also got this idea of the professor breaking smth in his class idk like he sits on the chair and one of the legs breaks or smth lmao and he goes on a lookout for smth to fix it with (??????) and he finds toji!!!! and he comes to his rescue, teasing the professor a little bc how the hell did he break the chair you know. and maybe he professor blushes a little..................... IT'S TOJI C'MON EVERYBODY WOULD BLUSH A LITTTLE and then maybe the professor brings him a pastry or something the next day as a thank you and now it's toji who's..... cheeks are looking a little pink?????? and he's grumbling that it's my job. no need to thank me. but the professor just dismissed that immediately and just presses the pastry into his hands and waves him goodbye with a smile. AAAAAAAAAAAH I CAN'TTTT I'M SMILING SO BIG RN MY CHEEKS HURT WHAT IN THE FUCK THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT TO MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

ARI. MY SWEETEST LITTLE ANGEL. CAN I USE THIS IN THE DRABBLE I STARTED? LIKE I'M GONNA LINK THIS IN THERE TOO. i just started the drabble based on one of the asks i got - toji just smiling while he's listening to his little bf ramble about his day but i'd love to sprinkle this in there. like maybe he taught a class on smth he really likes so he's just so excited about it. excited that the students were loving the topic or whatever. BUT I DO NEED YOUR PERMISSIONN!!!!!!!!!!!! THIS IS IMPORTANT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

AND THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THANK YOU FOR INDULGING ME YOU ALWAYS DO I'M SOOOO GRATEFUL FOR YOUUUUUUUUUU<33333 i can't believe you just cooked it up are you actually gordon ramsay btw? i know you are don't lie to me ari. BI!TOJI LOVES US BOTH THAT'S WHY HIS TITS ARE SO BIG HE'S STORING HIS LOVE FOR US IN THERE!!!!!!!!!!! I HOPE YOU HAD A REALLY REALLLY GOOD DAY MY LOVE MWAH MWAH MWAH<333333333

[hymn-of-muse]

oh, sorry! i didnt know. then can i request a spiderverse character of your choosing x a reader who can travel to alternate dimensions at will?

you got it!

Catch You On The Web-Side.

miles morales x dimension hopping Spider!Reader!

for the idea im taking inspro from gwenpool/gwen poole, so reader is sorta like if spider-woman gwen stacy crossed with deadpool gwen poole but was gender neutral! using they/them for stand in pronouns!

y/n = your name and sp/n = spider name!

warning ahead for minor across the spiderverse spoilers!

It's been a while since Miles had seen any of his friends, since he'd shut down the collider and saved his and his friends dimensions. It's been months actually.

There was a party coming up soon with friends and family and miles promised his parents, like he always did practically out of habit by now, that he would be there on time. He was still getting a hold of time management and being spiderman on the go, it was really hard to schedule things and follow through when there was crime around the city.

but hey! he was getting a hang of the whole web swinging stuff, doing way better now than when he started out, so at least he could swing around to cut some time right? despite missing classes because he was still mapping out the city from the new angle while fighting crime, this was also a lesson he still had yet to learn.

swinging on his way home after helping the police with another car chase, a flash of colour caught miles' eye from around the corner of a building as he passed it. His spider sense went off and caused him to turn back to investigate only to catch sight of someone else swinging past.

"What the-" Miles landed and perched himself on the side of a building to process what he just saw before quickly swinging after them. "hey! hold up!"

was that another spider-peron? he shut off the collider, how'd they get here?

"hold up, i just wanna chat!" He called out, swinging right after the person who stopped on a roof. He landed next to them, bouncing once before fully stopping. "whoa-hey-hey! I'm-uh...are you?" He stumbled with his balance and words.

"a spider hero from another dimension? yup!" the stranger finished and answered his question for him. "sp/n. or y/n. you?" the smile was clear as they spoke, hand outstretched in greeting.

"mile-er-spider-man...im Spider-Man. or miles morales." he took their hand in his and shook it, a bit quick to do so out of nervousness and shaking a couple seconds too long before letting go and retracting his hand to his side.

the person laughed, amused by his nervous nature. "nice to meet you 'mile-er-spider-man'." the jokingly mocked.

"how did you get here? did someone open a collider in your dmension-"

they cut him off with a confused chuckle "collider? no? i get around like this normally, hoping dimensions 'n stuff. this one guy gets mad at me for it but i tune him out and ditch when he starts monologuing"

"you can do that?? just..go from dimension to dimension?? how??" miles grins under his mask in excitement. someone who can travel freely? thats amazing! and maybe theres a chance they can take him around too? or help him connect to his friends?

"its just as normal for me as my spider-sense i guess. took just as much work to get a hang of as web swinging did though. oh and before you ask, i've never tried taking another person traveling with me, im not sure how well that would work" y/n explained like they knew exactly what he was thinking.

"and how do you keep from um.." he tried gesturing with his hands. "glitching out and being all unstable in other dimensions that arent yours?"

"oh yeah that, really hurt the first couple of times so i made this things with a friends help" they held up their wrist and showed off some strange looking wrist watch gadget. "helps me stay stable wherever i am"

"cool!" miles commented, looking the gadget over. "so did you come to my dimension for any particular reason...? or..?" he looked back at them with a tilt of his head.

"just passing through, kinda tracking someone down and avoiding someone else." they shrugged.

"that guy who gets mad at you for hopping dimensions?"

"him or one of his many spider friends" they snickered. "speaking of which i gotta stay ahead, but i'll see you around again, yeah?"

"youre leaving already? man, you just got here!" miles complained, hoping they'd stay and chat a while longer.

"yeah, sorry, miles. dont worry though, i might just be a frequent visitor in your dimension now" they winked with their mask and started walking to the edge of the building rooftop.

"i still got a lot of questions sp/n." miles chuckled.

"and i'm sure i've got a lot of answers for next time, spider-man." they quipped back, yuning to face him and standing on the ledge. "catch you on the web-side"

and with that, the fell backwards off the building followed by a flash of light. miles quickly rushed over to the edge and looked down but saw nothing below except for a few pedestrians on the street going about their day.

"yeah...catch you on the web-side.."

reblogs are appreciated! thank you!

[ax-y10]

The Zones Of Regulation

In which- You struggle a bit, and Mr. Soot is able to help

A/n: Literally just an au I have for Wilbur (guidance! Wilbur), Based off when I went into the guidance counsellor office when for my fucked up sleep schedule.

Chapter info : basically a vent of my own life, Wilbur being a supportive guy, one swear, Wilbur is 26 and reader is 17, isn't a teacher x student because yuck, teacher! Wilbur, student! reader, really long, hope it's alright.

Masterlist:

---

Usually you enjoy rainy days. Why was today so god damn shitty?

First, you forgot to hand in your Agriculture assignment. Then, you had two classes in the one space for History. you failed my math test next. And, to top it off, you got your seating plan changed in English because kids were being idiots. HOW MUCH WORSE CAN IT GET!

You had an appointment with the guidance counsellor that you were meant to see last week (that never happened) so it got rescheduled to today. It was about your home life but descended into your sleeping habits. At least Mr. Soot was always up for a chat.

Making your way up the stairs, you heard other kids talking about you. "Look at them" "What are they doing?" "Where are their friends?" "Ha. Sook".

Reaching the door, you knock rapidly, hoping that you didn't get the wrong time. A seperate teacher, Ms. Campbell, greeted you and invited you in.

"Who do you need, sweetheart?" She asked politely, not wanting to disturb your already frantic self.

"Is Mr. Soot available by any chance. I have an appointment with him." you respond, on the verge of tears.

"He's currently talking with another student. He won't be too long. Have a seat in his office for now." She informs.

"Alright, thank you." You nod, before walking through the short maze called the guidance block and finding a seat in his office.

His office was decorated nicely, with distractions and calming senses for the tough conversations, and coping mechanisms for stressful situations. Many colours were visible throughout the space, from vermilions and oranges to navy blues and purples. He had fidget toys next to the seats, including fidget cubes, cards, kinetic sand etc. It was a very calming space to say the least.

Waiting patiently, munching on a small chocolate bar your friend gave you, he walks in.. looking different than usual.

Usually he is wearing a yellow sweater, his black jeans, his casual dress shoes and a beige jacket, with a beanie sat atop his head.

Today, though, he's wearing a random cream sweater with grey sweatpants resting on his hips, random converse and a white collared shirt underneath the sweater, missing the beanie that you always sought comfort in.

"Hello, Y/n. Glad your here," He says with the sweetest smile you've ever seen, compared to his usual droopy smile when he's on playground duty.

He gestured towards the fidgets next to you, noticing you picking and scratching at the sides of your fingers, clearly nervous.

"How is it going?" He asks quietly, almost at a whisper, knowing how this sort of stuff can upset you easily.

Your usual visits to the guidance block usually resulted in having to be walked back to class, tissues in your grasp, half an hour late to class. And you knew this visit wouldn't be different.

Eyes drifting around the room, desperately trying to detour the conversation another way, not wanting to pour your emotions onto him. 'But that's his job. To deal with people like you.'

Tears pricking at your eyes, he notices your uncomfortable state and directs the conversation another way.

"So-" he pauses, "how's your cats, Daisy and Twix? Are they alright?" He asks, earning a slight chuckle from you.

"They're alright, yeah. They're having a lot of fun at my dad's house. Dad loves animals, so he adores Daisy and Twix." You smile, as he watches you, making sure you are actually alright.

"Hows your mum? If you want to talk about it? I'm not forcing anything." He reassures.

A tear slips from your eye. Fuck.

"She's alright. Nothing has changed between us but at least I'm getting better. Getting away from her behaviours. Not having to bottle up my emotions anymore. I'm safer at dad's now. He understands. She doesn't. I got help from Ms. Thornton about a month ago, when you weren't available and she gave me strategies-"

Another tear.

And another.

And here it comes.

The floodgates open and he's on the ground infront of you, calming you down.

"It's alright, sweetheart. You don't have to continue if you don't want to. Would you like me to talk about some things?" He asks, not needing to, knowing you love anything to calm your stressful states.

"Please-" a shaky breath, "Please sing?"

And almost immediately, he starts singing your favourite song. You told him about it at the very first appointment with him. Starting the first lyric, his voice soothed you immediately, 'Cigarette Daydreams' runs past his lips and into your ears.

He was musically talented and often taught the music class, which you were in. You'd stay behind with him and talk about everything. His music, how you're learning how to play the guitar, how different instruments and music platforms work. But they always ended in you asking to sit with his guitar and strum a few chords, showing him what you've learnt so far. And you recently started learning "Jubilee Line', a song he wrote. You enjoyed it so much, and he sat on a desk in front of you, helping you if you stuffed it up.

You zoned out halfway through him singing, playing with a new fidget he had placed next to the chair. He placed his hands on either side of your legs and stood up, walking back over to his chair, and seating himself again.

"Do you want to keep talking, or do you want to head back to class? The bell went off 2 minutes ago." He'd asked, and you rapidly shook your head. He was a great comfort to you and you had a few more things to talk about.

You talked about how you are scared to tell your family a myriad of things because of their beliefs, how you a scared of what is going to happen in the future, and before you knew it, he was guiding you back to class, and letting you walk in, watching you to make sure you were alright.

[seriouslysnape]

Under the Radar

__

Severus Snape x Fem! Professor! Reader

Warnings: None. 

Request: hiii can I request a husband Severus Snape x wife reader. The reader is a professor in Hogwarts they don't want the students to know so they kept it a secret. And the Weasley twins are the first to know. (the Weasley twins are close to reader since she's kind thanks.) and you can continue it your own way. (灬º‿º灬)♡

Word Count: 2,014

“That is true, but we both knew that couldn’t last forever,”

__

“You have class in fifteen minutes, Severus.” You nagged at your husband who was still sprawled out in bed.

A groggy chuckle escaped from the man as he finally sat up on his elbows to look at you, watching as you hurried to get dressed before you were horribly late.

“So do you, love.” He countered.

“Yes, but I’m almost ready,” You argued with a slight roll of your eyes; “And you are not.”

“It doesn’t take me long. You know this.” He bantered.

It was true after all. Severus didn’t put that much effort into getting ready everyday. Pants, robes, shoes, and MAYBE brush his hair. That was the morning routine of Severus Snape. You were a bit more refined, taking time to pick out an outfit and making yourself look presentable to your personal standards.

“I know, but do you really want your Potions classroom unattended with a bunch of Slytherins and Gryffindors?” You grinned, knowing that they’d wreak havoc sooner or later.

Severus groaned at the thought. It wouldn’t have been the first time where he walked in at the last minute to stop Ron Weasley from throwing a cauldron at Draco Malfoy’s head. He swung his feet over the side of the bed, padding to his closet where you stood as well.

“One of these days, I’ll get a morning of peace and have you for myself.” He grumbled.

You gave a mocking, sympathetic pout at your mumbling husband. You took his face into your hands, drumming your fingers playfully along his cheeks.

“Poor baby. Because you NEVER get any time with me.” You said with a tone thick with sarcasm.

Severus huffed, but his arms snaked around your waist.

“Is it so wrong to want a quiet morning with my wife?” He questioned.

Severus had a point. It had been quite some time since the two of you had the opportunity to sleep in, to drown out the world until the two of you felt ready to brave it together. He missed waking you up by peppering you with lazy kisses and soft, sweet mumbles in your ear. Life had just gotten so busy that things weren’t exactly what he would consider standard for the two of you.

It also didn’t help that outside of your private bedroom, you weren’t exactly a public couple. Aside from the faculty and staff of Hogwarts, none of the students had any knowledge of yours and Severus’ marriage. It had been a mutual decision, considering that neither of you were sure you wanted all the kids knowing that two professors were married to one another. While your last name had legally been changed to Snape, you were always referred to by your maiden name. As far as the students knew, you and Severus hadn’t even ever had a conversation, let alone tied the knot almost three years ago.

“I know, Sev. I’ll tell you what. I’ll clear my schedule for tomorrow since it’s Saturday. We can sleep in...” You said, lowering your voice to a whisper in his ear; “And I’ll be all yours all day.”

The way that his eyes lit up made your heart leap. He kissed you excitedly, your laugh muffled under the kiss. Despite the fact that you had a ten minute head start, Severus still managed to be ready before you, stealing another quick kiss before he was out the door en route to the dungeons.

Your classes went smoothly as usual. The students were peppy with energy since it was Friday, but their focuses were very in tune with your lessons for the day. You had returned to your office after classes to do some fast grading before giving in to the weekend. Most of the students had returned to their dorms to have some down time before getting into their weekend shenanigans. However, it seemed that your biggest fans were even more boisterous than usual.

Your office door swung open rather abruptly, causing you to flinch and grab at your chest in alarm.

“Hi, Professor!” Fred Weasley screeched.

“Hey, Professor [Y/N]!” George echoed.

The red-headed twins were (without a doubt) very fond of you. Your personality just seemed to mix well with theirs, and you were always willing to take time out of your day to chat with them. You were usually one of the first to know about their daring pranks, always having to fake your surprise when they actually did them.

“Hi, boys.” You greeted with a smile.

It wasn’t at all uncommon for students to come by your office during the day. Usually it was because they had a concern about their performance in your class or confusion on an assignment. With the Weasley twins, though, they always came by just because they felt like it.

“Grading on a Friday?” Fred acquired, plopping down into one of the chairs in front of your desk.

George tutted, eyeing over the stack of tests on your desk.

“It’s a shame. You should be out getting knackered at The Three Broomsticks with McGonagall.” George said, scanning nosily over the objects on your bookshelf.

You snorted, resuming your grading.

“I’ll leave the heavy imbibing to the two of you. The day that I see Minerva McGonagall getting hammered at a bar will be the day that I become a Legilimens.” You replied.

George and Fred snickered, continuing to talk your ears off while they snooped around. You never minded their company, as long as they didn’t stop your grading progress. You didn’t notice when the two of them went quiet. You also didn’t notice when George silently called for his brother to join him across the room. 

Fred got up from his seat to see what George had found, his eyes practically bugging out of his head when he saw what it was. You had a habit of leaving your stuff laying around random areas of your office, so sometimes little hints of your relationship with Severus were out in the open for anyone to see. However, George and Fred were the only people on the planet who would actually find anything.

On one of your bookshelves rested an empty, opened envelope. It was a letter from a pen pal friend of yours that you had lost physical contact with after you graduated from Hogwarts. However, the kicker was that the addressed name on the front wasn’t what the twins would have expected to see.

It was addressed to you, using your married name. 

George and Fred looked at each other with quizzical expressions. Why in the world would you have something addressed to you with Snape’s last name? George and Fred had this weird, telepathic twin communication thing that always freaked you out. They could sort out a problem or have a conversation without ever saying anything. 

Their puzzled looks faded into realization when they sorted it out. They almost couldn’t believe it. Severus Snape married to one of the friendliest, nicest professors? It was shocking...but it did make sense.

You always wore a wedding ring on your left hand, but no one seemed to know who the lucky guy was. You were very private about your personal life.

Fred pocketed the envelope, and George announced their exit.

“Lovely to see you as always.” He said, holding down his giggle.

“Yeah, we’ll see you Monday, Professor.” Fred added on, ushering his brother out before either of them could blow it.

You gave them a friendly wave as they left, still clueless to the fact that they had found out your secret.

Monday morning rolled around (after Severus’ promised Saturday morning in) once again, and another week had begun. It didn’t take long for you to notice that something was odd.

Students all day had been acting strangely. Their quiet whispers and sneaky giggles when they passed by you in the corridors were definitely suspicious. You couldn’t get them to pay attention in class for the life of you, all of them clearly preoccupied.

“Draco Malfoy,” You snapped, hands on your hips; “Just what are you laughing about now?”

Draco’s laughter stopped, but his amused smile never left his face. This was the third time today that you had gotten on to him for disrupting class, him and Crabbe chuckling on and off about something. 

“Nothing, nothing.” Draco replied, still chortling under his breath.

You sighed out heavily. All of the kids were testing your nerves today.

“If I hear any more interruptions from you, I’ll have to give you detention,” You scolded, but in a calm tone; “Do you understand?”

Draco nodded, waiting until your back turned to the board again before he responded.

“Yes, Professor Snape.”

Your writing stopped, the entire classroom bursting into hushed laughter. You turned to face the young Malfoy, his cheeks flushed as he and Crabbe failed to contain their laughter any longer. It was obvious now that the whispers and weird glances were due to the fact that they knew. Somehow, they had found out.

“Professor [L/N].” You corrected.

“Hmm, but technically you’re Professor Snape.” He hummed.

You bit your cheek in thought. If they knew, there wasn’t any sense in denying it. But you were curious as to how this started.

“Draco, how did you all find out?” You questioned.

He shrugged with a smirk.

“I heard it from Pansy.” He admitted.

You looked to Pansy.

“Blaise told me.” She confessed.

You followed the trail of names and who-told-who until it stemmed back to the original perpetrators. Two suspects that you should have figured long ago.

“The twins. Of course.” You sighed.

The students had questions (and a lot of them), curious to know how long and how it had happened. Most of them were just stunned that Severus Snape actually had a life outside of his classroom. A life with someone like YOU nonetheless.

You were fidgety to talk to Severus about it. You were curious to see how he’d react and how this would change the way the two of you interacted during the school year. After all, it was kind of your fault for leaving your stuff around.

“Were the students acting peculiar to you today?” Severus asked, breaking you from your thoughtful daze.

Your gaze snapped up from your dinner plate as you peered at him with a fluttery belly.

“Peculiar how?” You asked.

“They all seemed mischievous. As if they knew something they weren’t supposed to.” Severus claimed, looking at you as if he already knew the reason why.

“Well, now that you mention it...they sort of know about us...that we’re married.” You confessed.

Truthfully, Severus didn’t care that much if the student body knew. It was inevitable that they’d all find out eventually, but he was interested to hear how exactly the cat was let out of the bag.

“They ‘sort of’ know?” He questioned, clearly amused; “How’s that?”

You sucked in a breath.

“The Weasley twins might’ve figured it out. They’re smart, Sev. Much smarter than you give them credit for,” You babbled; “It’s not their fault. I shouldn’t have-”

“Stop, stop,” He cut you off with a soft smile; “You don’t think I’m mad about this, do you?”

Your shoulders relaxed at his gentle tone, but your eyes remained wide.

“It’s just that we...always wanted to keep it a secret.” You reminded him.

His head nodded and he set his fork down to give you his full attention.

“That is true, but we both knew that couldn’t last forever,” Severus pointed out; “I could never keep you hidden away forever.”

Your cheeks burned at his compliment, your smile beaming at him. He nudged your foot under the table. It was a wondrous thought to think about how different (or not) things would be now that they knew.

“I’m afraid I’ll still have to keep my maiden name. To avoid confusion.” You stated.

“Of course. Just as long as you’re still my Mrs. Snape.” He grinned with a wink.

You returned with a laugh, prompting the end of the lighthearted conversation.

“That I can definitely promise.”

[joaquinwhorres]

gazes (joaquín torres x reader)

SUMMARY ››››› It's become increasingly apparent to Sam and Bucky that you and Joaquin cannot take your eyes off each other. Unfortunately for them, you two have decided to be Professionals and that means keeping your eyes, hands, and lips to yourselves. No matter how difficult it is.

WORD COUNT ››››› 3,716

WARNINGS ››››› sexy times implied

A/N ››››› Ok so these headcanons y'all have been sending me are incredible. I read these two back to back and I just had to write something connecting them.

The kid had no tact.

Sam wasn't exactly sure why he expected more from the guy who'd led into his theory that Steve was on the moon by referencing vague internet rumors, but even despite that, he'd assumed Joaquin possessed some sense of subtlety.

Instead he was over at the leg press trying and failing not to stare at Y/N as she bent over at the middle to help Bucky push deeper into the stretch.

"You know she could hit you with a harassment claim for staring at her like that."

Joaquin jumped, the weights dropping suddenly with a loud clang. Across the gym, Bucky laughed as Y/N whipped around to face the two men. "Everything ok?" Her voice sounded genuinely concerned, and Sam couldn't help but smirk as Joaquin turned towards her, giving a little wave.

"Foot slipped," he answered, and she nodded, turning back to Bucky quickly.

"Foot slipped," Sam mocked.

"Dude, you scared the shit out of me."

"If you paid half the amount of attention you give to Y/N to your surroundings, you'd have known I'd been standing here for three minutes."

Joaquin gave a defensive scoff. "I wasn't staring at her--I was just--" he stopped, searching for an excuse, and Sam raised his eyebrows.

When it was clear Joaquin couldn't find a convincing enough lie to end the sentence, Sam shook his head. "You know, if you talk to her, she might actually let you take her out."

"I talk to her," Joaquin protested.

Sam shook his head, uncrossing his arms. "No, I mean talk to her. Chat her up. You've gotta have some game, right?"

"I've got game..." His sentence trailed off as he turned to look in her direction, finding her standing over Bucky's feet with her hands on her hips. "But like, we're co-workers, you know? I don't want to make things awkward around the gym or the compound or anything."

"Joaquin," Sam said, laying a hand on his shoulder. "You're already making things awkward."

"He's staring at your ass again."

"And you're trying to get out of stretching again," you quipped, moving Bucky's leg closer to his chest. The super soldier tilted his head as if to acknowledge the legitimacy of your accusation.

"Doesn't change the fact that I think you're about to give him a heart attack."

"I highly doubt he's worried in the slightest about my ass. He's probably zoned out."

"He's definitely focused in...on--"

"On my ass," you finished, shaking your head. You might have given Bucky's claim a little more credence if it weren't for the fact that Joaquin Torres had been anything but the consummate professional towards you. He was friendly and upbeat and welcoming, and one of the few genuinely good guys you'd ever had the pleasure of working with.

You'd never caught him staring once, and it's not like the boy was exactly known for subtlety. Last time Bucky had asked him to cover for him so you couldn't come down and teach him the right way to train his body, he'd told you that Bucky had left the compound to get you a thank you gift for all of your hard work. All while staring at the gym door.

The heavy sound of weights falling against each other echoed throughout the gym, and you spun around to face the sound. Sam hovered over Joaquin's shoulder, the latter no longer working the leg press but instead looking as if he'd just received the scare of his life.

Bucky broke into laughter, and you smacked at his leg.

"Everything ok?" you called out, and Joaquin smiled, giving a sheepish little wave at you. "Foot slipped."

"It's a good thing he wasn't at the bench press. You might have killed him."

Your head snapped back to Bucky who was giving you a shit eating grin.

"You're an asshole."

"I'm right."

"Do you think if I ask nicely Wakanda will take you back?"

"So you know I'm right."

You chanced a glance back at Joaquin who was still talking to Sam before turning back around and placing your hands on your hips. "I'm calling Ayo."

You were running early.

Not to any event in particular, but just for the general course of your day. It was rare for you to wake up to your first alarm so completely refreshed, and with a fully awake brain, you found it much easier to navigate the morning. You were able to get dressed without crawling back in bed for a few more minutes, and didn't have to battle with sleepy indecision when choosing what you wanted to eat for breakfast.

One thing after another just continued to roll your way, leading you to the gym much earlier than usual.

And that's where the luck stopped.

Or maybe it didn't stop. But it definitely took a turn. Because while you fully expected someone else to be in the gym already, you hadn't expected just one person to be in the gym. And even if you had, you wouldn't have guessed that that one person would be Joaquin. And if, for some reason, you'd had the foresight to sense that, you definitely never would have pictured him to be running on the treadmill shirtless.

You stopped in your tracks, eyes falling to the bouncing dog tags on his chest and then lower to the well defined abs you'd somehow never seen before.

It felt like you'd seen just about every man in this compound shirtless. At some point, they all seemed to strip in the gym or during one of your group training classes you ran for those who weren't field agents. Bucky was shirtless half the time you worked together. It was so normal, you hardly even blinked an eye anymore. Seeing Sam without a shirt was more rare and quite the sight, but it'd never caught your breath quite like seeing Joaquin. Joaquin, who had never so much as worn a tank top in the gym, Joaquin.

And now here he was, chest bare and heaving, feet pounding rhythmically against the treadmill, hair still messy from his pillow and sweat. Your brain couldn't seem to function correctly, offering you images of the sight before you, only closer. Much closer. Hovering inches over your stretched out body as the headboard behind you rammed into the wall with the force of each thrust--

"Hey," Joaquin greeted, noticing you standing off to the side. You blinked, heat rushing to your face as he turned the treadmill down to a more leisurely pace. "Something wrong with my form?"

It was tempting to lie and offer to "help him fix it." Or to be completely honest and tell him you'd never seen a human form as perfect as his.

But neither of those responses were professional or even appropriate, and you needed this job.

You swallowed, shaking your head. "No, I was just wondering why you were wearing those," you said, gesturing to his dog tags, and allowing your eyes to fall to his chest once more. You followed a bead of sweat as it rolled down his body, heading to the waistband of his shorts. Joaquin reached to touch his tags, causing them to jingle together once more and pull your attention up to him.

"It's hard to let them go," he smiled, ruefully, hitting the button so the belt slowed even more. "I'd say it's a habit, putting them on, but at this point they're just like a part of me."

You nodded, wishing you'd taken this conversation anywhere but to the idea of dog tags and what they stood for. It wasn't so much a mood killer but a guilt inducer because instead of you feeling embarrassed and somber, all you wanted to do was grab them and pull him closer to you.

He must have read the conflict on your face because he gave a crooked smile. "Yeah, sorry, it's kinda morbid."

"No," you shook your head, clearing it of the daydream induced fog. "I probably shouldn't have asked."

"No, nah, it's cool," his smile grew into grin, as the belt came to a stop. He leaned his forearms against the console, staring at you as if waiting for you to continue the conversation. Which you were not equipped to do with a smiling and shirtless and sweaty Joaquin Torres right before you.

"Well, thanks for being cool about it," you said with a nod.

My God, something was wrong with you. They were just abs. And sure, maybe the abs belonged to the man who not only found the time to moonlight as a superhero but star in your increasingly dirty dreams of late, but it was just a body party that you'd seen a million times.

But never on Joaquin.

You blamed everything your brain was doing to you on Bucky and all of his stupid comments about Joaquin's supposed fixation on your ass. You wondered what he would say if he could see you now. "And I thought I was half machine. I could practically see your brain short circuiting." or "If that's what you're like when you see him half-naked, how are you ever going to--"

"Yeah, of course," Joaquin said, still smiling, his eyes lifting up over your shoulder as the other door to the gym opened and Sam came in. "Hey," he greeted with a jerk of his chin.

"Hey," Sam said, drawing closer, his eyes on you. You forced a smile on to your own face, and lifted a hand, not trusting anything that was coming out of your mouth.

"You're here early," the other man said, stepping onto the treadmill next to Joaquin's, and putting his water bottle down next to the machine.

Both of them were looking at you now, and it's not like you could handle staying in this gym any longer. "I came down looking for my water bottle. I think I left it here yesterday."

Sam raised his eyebrows glancing around the gym, and Joaquin stepped down off of the machine. "Do you want help looking for it?" he asked, and your whole body seemed to tense up at the idea, your brain transporting you to a future scenario where the two of you wandered around the room, Joaquin next to you or behind you, so close you could feel the heat radiating off of him, all the while searching for a water bottle that was sitting on your dresser.

"No." Your voice came out too high, but you tried to play it off, shaking your head. "I've already interrupted your workout enough. It's either by the weights or not in here."

"Alright," he nodded. "If you need any help looking around the compound though, let me know."

"Thanks," you said. And then you gave another stupid wave and beelined it for the weight racks because you had to get out of here.

You made a show of looking next to each section of weights, even bending over to check underneath of them as if it could have been knocked under somewhere. After you felt an appropriate amount of time had passed to be convincing, you straightened up, empty handed. You turned back to Joaquin and Sam, both watching you rather than continuing their workouts as you might have hoped.

"Not here," you called back with a shrug and then left the gym and headed straight up to your shower.

He was nothing if not predictable.

The minute Y/N bent over to check behind the weight rack, his eyes were glued to her. Or perhaps more accurately, the bright teal spandex shorts she wore. As she pulled herself back up from searching for her water bottle and turned to them, Joaquin quickly looked to Sam as if the two had been talking the whole time and then "casually" returned to her.

"Not here!" she said, shrugging and then walking out of the gym, her footsteps quick and purposeful as she left through the door Sam had just entered by.

"So, what'd I interrupt?"

Joaquin looked up at Sam as if remembering he was there. "What?"

"You know, when the two of you were sitting by this machine making eyes at each other? Did you actually say anything to her or….?"

Joaquin shook his head. "No, she just came in and, uh, we chatted for a second, and then…" he trailed off, as if not fully remembering any of the past ten, twenty, however many minutes.

"You just chatted," Sam repeated, the disbelief on his face edging into his voice.

"Yeah," Joaquin nodded.

"Anywhere in this chat you finally ask her out?"

"Nah, it didn't feel right."

"It didn't--she was practically taking off the other half of your clothes with her eyes," Sam sputtered, gesturing to Joaquin's shorts.

The kid laughed and shook his head as if Sam didn't know what he was talking about. Joaquin moved to exit the gym as well. "I'll see you later, man," he said, leaving a very exasperated Sam behind.

Bucky Barnes was a motherfucking liar.

"Let's grab a drink on Friday," he said.

"Consider it me making it up to you for being such a pain in your ass," he said.

"I'll buy," he said.

Mothefucker.

This wasn't just you and your favorite co-worker getting a drink. This was a goddamn set up. Because one hour and three mojitos into the night, Sam and Joaquin walked in the front door.

"I fucking hate you," you said, glaring up at his stupid smug face.

"Well, what a surprise, he grinned, as you shook a finger up at him.

"I told you in confidence I'm a flirty drunk."

He snorted, giving you a look out the side of his eyes. "You told me you were a flirty drunk after you sent me several highly inappropriate drunk text messages about what you wanted to do to a certain Lieutenant, who," the self-satisfied smile was back on Bucky's face. "Is making his way over to us right now."

"When I get home, I swear to God, I'm buying you a ticket to Wakanda."

Bucky quirked an eyebrow. "You're not going to do it now?"

"I didn't bring my credit card because you said you were paying," you huffed.

Before Bucky could respond, Sam and Joaquin were next to the two of you, greeting Bucky with hand slaps and one armed hugs. Sam came around and wrapped an arm around you first before sliding into the seat next to Bucky, and Joaquin came forward, giving you a quick hug.

Which was a first.

More than the feeling of his back underneath your palm, or the way he seemed to emanate warmth, you were done in by how absolutely incredible he smelled. But before you could fully identify whether it was his shampoo, a cologne, or just him, he pulled away and took the only other available seat near the group--the one next to you.

"I see you started without us," Sam said, raising his eyebrows at the assortment of glasses that sat before you. Most of them were Bucky's as he downed beers faster than should have been humanly possible.

"Hard drinker, huh Y/N," Joaquin teased, shooting you a smile.

"Pfft," you dismissed. "Only three are mine."

"Three?" Sam asked, leaning forward to better look at you. "How long have you been here?"

"An hour," you said, completely unnecessarily leaning forward too.

Bucky shrugged. "I got the time wrong."

"Guess we better catch up then," Joaquin said, and you sank back into your chair, narrowing your eyes at him in challenge.

"If you can."

They did.

You were outpaced fairly quickly against the two soldiers and one super soldier. The rum-induced fuzziness around the edges of your brain was compounded by having Joaquin so close to you. At some point he'd pulled his chair a bit closer to yours so that he could better hear the conversation, and you don't remember when it happened, but his arm had also slid around the back of your chair. To your relief neither Bucky nor Sam seemed to acknowledge this. In fact, Bucky was positively quiet and normal all things considered. Everything was going better than you could have expected.

Until the music kicked up.

Sam was the first to be dragged onto the dance floor. He was Captain America. Of course he'd been targeted by the stunning girl in the red dress who'd only had to come up and ask "Does Captain America dance?" to succeed in pulling him off to the dance floor.

Bucky was next. Although he wasn't tugged onto the dance floor by his hand the way Sam was. It was the sight of the person in the tight black number that did him in, luring him away to the dance as if drawn by a magnet.

And then it was you and Joaquin, sitting at the bar. Alone. Together.

You looked up from your drink, pushing the straw down into the ice to stir up the clinking sounds, and he took a swig of his beer before putting the bottle back down on the bar.

"Alright, let's dance," he said, nodding with his head towards the crowd, and you let out a disbelieving snort.

"I don't know how to dance. I mean, I can dance," you attempted to clarify, although you had a feeling words were failing you at the moment. "But that's real dancing, and I can't do that."

"I guess you're lucky you have a really good teacher asking you to dance then," Joaquin grinned, holding out a hand. You looked down at his open palm, hesitating only for a second before you slid your hand into his and jumped down from your chair.

He led you out through the moving bodies expertly, dodging couples who were clearly more into the dancing than each other and couples where the complete opposite was true. The small bit of space he found you was closer to the center of the dance floor than you'd usually feel comfortable with, but when he turned towards you with that look on his face, any of your residual anxiety had vanished.

"Ok, come close," he said, and you took a small step closer to him, causing him to laugh. "Closer." He gestured, and you moved forward some more, Joaquin's hands finding their way to your hips and pulling you even closer. His hands rose, one finding its way to your mid-back, pushing your elbow up to rest on his, as the other took your hand and placed it over shoulder.

"This ok?" he asked, eyebrows raised, and you nodded, trying to keep your attention on him, his instructions and his words, and not the way that you could feel just about every part of him from the way he was angled against you. His right side was flush against your left, and his knee pushed between yours.

"Just follow me," he said, his head bent close to yours. Before you could even respond, he started to move, pulling you along with him through the dance. It was smooth and rolling and you'd never seen a guy able to roll his hips like Joaquin. He seemed to know exactly how to guide you, moving his body to push and pull yours along whenever you hesitated or felt lost, coaxing waves and movements out of you that you didn't know you could do. Each success was met with a small word of praise and a brilliant smile, as his hands shifted to hold you closer, and you wrapped your own hand around his neck to better feel and predict his movements.

It felt as if a fog had rolled in over the dancefloor, obstructing all else from view so it was just you and Joaquin, eyes locked to each other as you moved together, occupying the same space.

The song faded into the next one, and Joaquin stopped. You went to move backwards, to give him space and have him move on as many other of the more skilled dancing couples seemed to do, switching partners amongst each other. But he kept you close to him, hand sliding down to your waist.

"Now you can really dance," he teased, his eyes shining as they stared into yours.

"Only with you." It was supposed to be a self-deprecating joke, but it came out too quiet and earnest. Joaquin licked his lips, and your eyes followed the gesture, flickering between his mouth and his eyes.

You don't remember making the decision. You only remember, moving even further into his arms, and pushing yourself up to reach his lips with your own. He bent down to meet you, pulling you even closer and pressing his hard body into yours. His lips moved as slowly and sensually as his hips had, drawing you in and guiding you through a careful rhythm that promised much, much more.

Sam sat with Bucky at the bar. Joaquin and Y/N had disappeared somewhere amongst the dance floor, hidden amongst the crowd.

"You think it worked?" Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow at Sam.

"If it didn't we're screwed," Sam shook his head, taking a swig from his drink.

As if on cue, the two emerged from the swaying bodies, hand in hand, sweaty and much happier than they had been when Sam had left them at the bar.

"We're gonna head back to the compound," Joaquin said with practiced casualness.

"Yeah?" Bucky asked, and Sam swore there was mischief literally glinting in his eyes.

"Yeah," Joaquin nodded too fast and too many times. "Yeah, Y/N forgot about something there…"

"What'd you forget?" Bucky asked, turning to Y/N with a wolfish smile.

"Nothing. We're going to have sex," Y/N said, flatly, causing Sam to nearly spit out his drink. "And if you say one more word, I know a pilot who will fly you to Wakanda himself. No ticket needed."

Bucky mimicked zippering his lips into a smug look, and she rolled her eyes before tugging Joaquin out of the bar by his hand. And he followed. Eyes glued to her ass.

[just-my-type-x]

Deadline For Love

Pic not mine

I enter the high school yard and sit by the fence to wait for my friends to show up. As i do so, i reach for my phone to enter the documents on it to run over some lessons for the upcoming exam next week. I try to focus on the pieces of information, but I'm interrupted by loud music coming from a car. I glance over at the car and widen them when i see a brand new jaguar parking across the street from me. My mouth falls open and i turn my head back to my phone when the driver comes out. The last thing i need is trouble for staring at a beautiful and expensive car. But you know what they say.. Curiosity killed the cat. So i turn around to look at the car one more time, when a beautiful man walks out of it. Brown, curly hair, wind blowing it but the hair still manages to lool flawless. He opens the backseat door to take his backpack and i notice his tight black longsleeve tucked in his black jeans, some boots in his feet. I swallow the excess of saliva that I didn't know i had and turn around quickly when he looks at me. I close my eyes and face-palm myself, cringing to the core. I decide to go back to my studying and act like nothing happened. Hearing footsteps on my left, i fight the urge to look if the man comes my way, wishing to steal one more sight of him. The footsteps stop next to me anf he clears his voice loudly, so he can capture my attention.

"You're not so subtle", i look at him, playing dumb. "Just so you know", he smiles and i smile back at him. "I'm Brad", he extends a hand towards me and i shake it happily

"I'm y/n. I'm sorry, but we don't usually see random handsome guys pulling up in Jaguars", i chuckle. "Just so you know". Brad laughs and I'm quick to conclude that this is the most beautiful sounding laughter. "So, are you new here?"

"Yes, actually. I know school started for a while, but there have been some problems my dad had to take care of at my other high school.", Brad leans on the fence and i copy his move

"That sounded like your dad threw the people responsible in a river", he laughs and i try not to blush. I love making people happy.

"Don't worry, it's just paperwork.", a group of people pass us and greet me and Brad, coming over to us to exchange some words and to meet Brad. I see him shift in his place and running his hand through his hair multiple times. Anxiety habit maybe? The group leaves soon after and i look at him, smirking.

"Who would've thought that the rich kid is shy", i pick my backpack off the ground and swing it over my shoulder

"Don't call me that, ok? We're not that close yet", tho his words speak facts, his tone is still warm and i kinda appreciate it. I apologise and go inside the building, letting my friends know I'm no longer waiting for them.

"So, what's your first class?", i ask him awkwardly after the last thing I've told him

" 'M not sure, i think Geography.", he frowns, looking at his schedule on his phone

"Wait, we have the same classes. My coordinator just texted the group chat, we're colleagues", i show him the text and we walk to the classroom. We enter and we greet five other classmates, Brad introducing himself to them.

"Oh my God, he's so cute", a girl whispers to her friend and i roll my eyes, dropping the backpack on the empty seat of the double desk. Brad blushes and involuntarily runs a hand through his curls. He stops at my desk, looking at me, patiently waiting for me to acknowledge him, while my nose is already buried in today's lesson.

"May i help you?", i laugh and he smiles. He looks at the seat that's occupied by the backpack. "Ooooh", i take my backpack away and he's quick to seat next to me.

"Thank you, it's so nice of you to offer me this seat", he jokes and i shake my head smiling.

"i would've said something, but we're not friends yet", i click my tongue and put the book in the middle so he could look at what I'm reading

"That I'm rich and funny?", Brad raises an eyebrow while taking a pen and a notebook out of his backpack. I nod and he laughs.

"What's that thing you always do with your hair?", i ask, while studying his face. He doesn't lift his eyes from the book and absently answers

"Yiu wouldn't believe it, but i am actually shy and can't handle moments like this, when I'm the new guy and all the attention drops on me"

"Well, you shouldn't come with a Jaguar at school", i mock him

"Please drop the car thing or tomorrow I'm coming riding the actual animal.", Brad tries keeping a straight face but fails.

~~~

A few days past and having Brad as my desk mate is a total blast. We started to get to know each other better and it turns out he's a total sweetheart. His sense of humour matches mine and we're on the same page with a lot of things. Maybe not that many. While I ace geography, he's totally lost without my help and a very important exam is coming up. While i take some notes for the exam, Brad comes into the classroom and takes my book away from me. He takes my hands in his and i raise an eyebrow at him.

"You have to help me pass this or I'm lost"

"I can't give you my brain", i chuckle

"No, but you're intelligent and you've been going through the lessons everyday since i got here and I'm sure you can put some information in my brain", he looks at me hopeless. I sigh and ask myself why shouldn't i do it and i have no answer to that question. So i happily agree to that. He gives me a quick hug and when i get back in my seat properly, my elbow hits the wall behind me. I moan in pain and mumble a fuck under my breath. I feel Brad watching me so i look back at him and see him smirk. "If you sound like this in bed too, then that's intriguing", he laughs and i hit him playfully in the arm.

"You'll just have to imagine that, Simpson"

"Mmm, bet my imagination isn't that colorful as reality might be", Brad runs a hand through his hair and smirk at me while leaning on the back of the chair. I feel my cheeks heat up.

"Then you'll have to become creative", i wink at him and put my notes on the side of his desk. "Have some of this information learned by tomorrow afternoon. We'll go to my place to study together", i try to keep my voice neutral, tho this joke about my moaning got me playing since scenarios in my head that i didn't know i had the ability to create.

"If i guess the answers right, do i get any type of reward?", he goes through the notes and runs a finger over the highlighted words.

I gasp

"For a shy guy like you, you definitely have a dirty mind"

"And mouth, i can assure you." he's still looking through the notes, frowning, like he doesn't say any big deal. I fall back on my seat, trying to keep my mind from wondering off into the wrong direction. I study Brad, his back broad and muscular, his shirts and t-shirt making it look so masculine. His arms are well built as well, legs too. Little curls forming at the back of the head and the rest of the curls being parted everywhere in the front. His coffee eyes read carefully over the hours and hours of information I've studied for, his lips parted, whispering what he reads. His fingers nice and long, the rings adding an extra wish for me look longer at his hands. Brad runs a hand through his hair and i frown when a strand of hair isn't placed as nicely as before. "Just because i don't see you, it doesn't mean i don't feel uncomfortable when you're watching me", he leans back in his seat to face me. I turn on the side and put my arm on the back of the seat, holding my head with my hand, looking in his eyes and him looking into mine without blinking.

"I was trying to see if i invited a serial killer into my house"

"I think we'll have to wait and see"

"Brad!", i push him playfully.

"I was joking. There's nothing you have to worry about. Other than my excessive stupidness for this subject", we both laugh and give each other one more smile when the teacher enters the classroom

The class comes to an end and we all reach for our backpacks to get out of the classroom. "Don't go yet, one more thing", the teacher yells and we all stop in our tracks to pay attention to her. "I changed my mind about the exam.", a sigh of relief escapes all of our mouths. Brad looks at me and smiles and i wink at him. "It's gonna be a 2 people project.", a wave of disappointment is heard from all around the classroom, but i almost clap out of excitement. Projects are my thing and I always ace them. I look over to my best friend and we both smile at each other, because we always work together. "The project has to be about your European trips. If you went to Berlin, i want pictures, if yiu went to Rome, i want pictures and so on. Afterwards, i want information about type of climate, fauna vegetation and so on about the certain country. I'll email you all the requirements. Oh and i almost forgot, your team mates are your desk mates. No changes. ", the teacher leaves before we do and we remain with mouths open, because we're used to choosing our partners. I look at Brad who's already looking at me.

"I hope you've travelled outside England, pretty boy", i sigh and head towards the door, him following me.

"Oh, we're going to have fun", Brad smirks and we both head outside for the break.

~~~~~

After school, we both go back to my place to start working on the project. I get inside his car and don't know how to act casual enough in such a not avarege car for an 18 year old. Brad gets in the driver's seat and puts on his seatbelt, a sigh of relief escaping his lips. He's been overwhelmed in the past days since chsnging schools and being the new guy again. He doesn't like being in the public eye for sure, but his little habits he does when he's shy make my soul happy. We drive off in silence, while groups of people follow us with their eyes. I roll my eyes, but Brad doesn't seem to notice the jealous eyes of those who are the same age as he is and don't even have a driver's licence. The radio plays quietly in the background and Brad vibes to the music by tapping the wheel to the rythm. I decide to look outside the window, because i don't want him to believe i'm staring at him.

I replay the past week while we pass trees and houses fast. Meeting Brad was really unexpected and i didn't know i needed him to come into my life. I didn't think i needed to surround myself with new people so i could feel good and energetic. Somehow, he managed to bring my true self back and for that i'm going to be forever greatful to him.

We pull up at my house and instruct him to park into my family's garage, as it's empty. We get inside and i'm thankful my mom cooked, because we're both hungry and not patient enough to wait for food delievery. We eat, get to know each other a little bit better and laugh almost at everything the other says, not necesarily because it's funny, but because we have too much of a good vibe together.

An hour or so later, we're both on the living room floor and looking at pictures and videos of each other's vacations. Brad is part of a group of him and three other boys, who are his best friends, and he is pretty much always on the road with them. He says it's an unwritten rule for them to go out of the country as long as they can afford it, so whenever they're free, they hop on the first plane. I almost choke on my water when he says that and all of a sudden i look at my vacation photos that are mostly taken by my parents while on vacation with them.

"I'm sorry, i didn't mean to make you feel bad", he apologies and comes next to me, putting his hand on the small of my back. i look up at him and smile.

"Don't worry, i'm fine. You're the last person who would make me feel bad, Bradley", i pinch his cheek.

"Good. Oooh, what do we have here?", Brad reaches for my phone to look at a photo closely. "This picture should be illegal", he says in a serious voice, but i chuckle and lean on him to try get my phone back, but he raises his arm higher.

"Stop, i don't like that photo", i whine and get on my feet to reach the phone. The photo he's looking at is a picture taken at a restaurant on the beach and my friend took a picture of me having a sip of cocktail, my chest only covered by a small bikini bra.

"Shut up, you're breathtaking. We're not using this photo", he laughs and takes the phone away when i almost catch it. I give up and sit back down. "Ok,let's get back to our project, because you're distracting me and that's not good.", he hands me my phone.

"How am i distracting you?", i raise my eyebrow, but i know the answer to my question

"Y/N, I'm at the peak of my hormones and your exposed chest on a restaurant table look more appetising than the menu.", my mouth falls open while i question how he kept a straight face while saying all of this. I blush and look away from him.

"Thanks for the honesty", i chuckle

"Yeah, well, i can't thank you for other things", my face heats up even more and i push him away playfully.

"Just don't think about me when you do it. Please.", i manage to say, while going back to the laptop, seeing the empty slides we need to fill in.

"Will it make you do it yourself?", his voice is low in my ear and i breath heavily all of a sudden. I shake my head to forget the feeling.

"It will make me wanna finish this stupid project so i could focus on more important things"

"And when i thought you wanted to finish me", Brad fakes he's hurt by putting a hand over his chest

"After we finish the project", i smirk proudly when his face shifted with surprise, his eyes sparkling.

We start adding photos and information in our presentation, both Brad and i shifting in our places because of our conversation.

"Fuck it", Brad closes the laptop and moves it further from me, while pulling me by the hands towards him. He sits on the floor, his back leaning on the couch and he motions me to get on his lap. I do as told and he grabs my waist, his lips instantly landing on mine. We move in sync, our tongues brushing softly over one another, my crotch rubbing on him, creating a much needed friction by both of us. He gasps and moves his hands lower, holding me by the ass. We break the kiss and look into each other's eyes and smile. I want to move from his lap, but he grabs my thigh to hold me in place, murmuring a no. Brad puts a strand of hair behind my ear and cups my face before kissing me again, gently this time.

"Let's just take things slow, alright?", his voice is calm, while he's all blushy and needy

"Alright", i nod

"But i promise I'll make you call in sick when you won't be able to get out of bed when i finally get the chance to have sex with you", he slaps my ass gently, making me wish he hit it a little bit harder. I give him a kiss.

"I can't wait for that", i kiss him again, deepening the kiss

.

.

.

This became longer than expected so unfortunately i didn't get to write about preliminaries, but i hope u enjoyed the rest of the imagine. Also, as u can see in the request, it says 2 imagines, so of course i didn't respond to the whole request because i don't want people to see what's the request. However, i can make it as a part 2 to this one. So if you guys want that to be a part 2 (and trust me it's interesting) and if the anon who requested it sees it, pls let me know if u want the 2nd request to be somehow this part's continuation ♥️

[rae-gar-targaryen]

Today I’m thinking about the girl I was assigned roommates with my freshman year of college. She’s a fraternal twin, and it was one of the first and only things she would tell you about her as an ice-breaker. I think we were paired up because we had similar sleeping habits and (surprisingly) similar music taste.

She was beautiful. Thin. Amiable. Went out most weekends. Perfectly nice and well-liked. Her side of the room was minimalist -- next to no decoration, save for on-trend clothes strewn on her bed (and sometimes on mine), and an overflowing makeup bag as the only item on her desk, other than her laptop. 

My side of the room was overflowing with books. I dyed my own bedsheets to be vibrant and floral colors with my mom before leaving home. I tacked up posters and pictures on my side of the room, and my desk was piled high with my textbooks, my journals, the books I was reading, and my straightening iron.

We listened to music together while we got ready in the morning. To Passion Pit, she agonized over every last detail of her outfit before heading off to her nursing classes, while I struggled to find the appropriate plaid shirt/graphic tee combination for my daily trek to the other end of campus, to the run-down journalism building at the end of a tree-lined street. 

We would sometimes talk late into the night. 

I learned that she would critique my taste in books to her friends (and her friends back home via Facebook chat). Even if she hadn’t read them. I had a pair of coca cola logo patterned sleep shorts that I wore sometimes when it was hot. And whenever she would chat with a guy-friend from back home, he would comment on them. If I was in the room when they chatted, he’d greet me too, with a nice smile and a, “Hey, Coca-Cola!” 

I learned later that she told him not to flirt with me, and that I was a “freak.” She would say similar things to the other girls in our dorm. 

Midway through our first semester, she had this...I don’t know if I would call it a breakdown. She was homesick. She was unhappy and stressed in her classes. She felt like no one was listening to her when she was trying to express her unhappiness, and that she didn’t belong. I empathized with her. I felt the same. Don’t we all at 18? But I felt very assured that I was in the right place for me. I stayed up with her that night, made her tea in our dorm room kettle. I put my arm around her and let her cry on my shoulder.

I took out one of my journals and read her one of my essays, and one of my poems. I felt like in my other life before this one, I had expressed exactly what she was feeling in that moment. Different time. Different place. She didn’t give much away at the time, other than to commend my writing. To tell me she thought it was apt to her situation. That she was thankful. I encouraged her to find a different major that actually spoke to her interests, and would maybe come with a more manageable workload. I offered to let her have the room to herself on Sundays for longer so she could video call with her family. 

Things got easier and easier with us all the time. I never admitted to her that I knew what she had said about me. I didn’t see the point.

Flash forward to the next semester. She was waiting for me in our room one afternoon when I’d had a cancelled class. She told me she was sorry. When I asked “for what,” she revealed that she had gone through my journal -- and the other ones like it in my desk drawer. She’d told me that I was a good writer. As if that made it better. She wanted to read more of what I’d written because it had made her feel better. As if THAT made it better. Never mind that there were years’ worth of personal entries about my own struggles with myself. With the people in my life -- most she didn’t know. But a few she now did. With how I’d learned that she (and other girls in our dorm) had said nasty shit about me behind my back. 

Poems about heartbreak (of course). Attempts at writing songs (terrible, really). Half-finished ideas and thoughts that manifested themselves as adjective-heavy imagery when other words wouldn’t do the trick. (Nonsensical). 

She said she’d known it was a fucked up thing to do. But that she was sorry. Incidentally, her family was in town visiting that week, and chose that moment to arrive to pick her up. They came back and later thanked me for helping her through her moments of homesickness. That she had told them all about my journals. And “wow, she says you’re such a thoughtful person and good writer.”

We finished out the year, and I listened to her when she needed someone. But I never felt like I should offer to share myself with her again. She got better and better as time went on, and changed her major to psychology. She found her stride and started going to parties again. Was back to being how I knew her. 

To this day, I don’t know how to feel about her. About our time living together. I think sometimes about how we would cry together. About how someone so beautiful could feel the same as I did -- like they didn’t have a place where they were. And how we tried to make it better for the other. We haven’t spoken in years. But I remember ourselves as vulnerable 18-year-olds who bonded over obscure bands and fear of the unknown .... and little else. Those memories and people have their place in how you’re shaped. I’m sure of it. For some reason, she crossed my mind today. I hope she’s well. And that she learned how to speak less of others when she thought they couldn’t hear it. I still have all the journals.

[scarlettriot]

MHA Flowers Headcanons

Just a headcanon of why these boys would bring you flowers and cute stuff that comes from it.

Warnings: None

Includes: Kaminari, Bakugo, Kirishima, Shoto, Iida and Midoriya

Kaminari

. Always spontaneous as heck!

. Literally. This man, being the bumblebee he is, would be coming home from work and be like, "Look at this pretty flower! I bet Y/N would like this!"

. And before he knows it, he has a small bouquet forming.

. He'd probably take a longer route home in search of more pretty flowers to add to the bouquet so it would look fuller when he gave it to you.

. Would present it with a smile full of pure sunshine!

. A couple minutes after sniffing the beautiful flowers he'd collected, a rash would form across the bridge of your nose and across your cheeks.

. "Aw crap!" Kaminari would quickly make sure to get you medication to help calm down the redness all while apologizing profusely.

. You still kept the flowers, just didn't sniff them so closely anymore. You'd catch Kaminari narrowing his eyes at them every time he walked by them until they withered and he happily tossed them.

Bakugo

. He's actually really good about remembering important dates in your relationship.

. There was always an internal struggle going on with this man when it came to giving you flowers and cute things like it: He wanted everyone to know he showered you with gifts but he didn't want to be caught dead shopping for them.

. So, on anniversaries and holidays, it's pretty standard for an arrangement to be delivered to your office.

. Your coworkers would exclaim about how sweet and thoughtful he was and they really would brighten up your whole day.

. He usually got home after you, sporting a little smirk of pride. You'd have to walk up to him, tell him how lovely they were because he sure as hell isn't bringing it up.

. "Tck. Yeah, whatever. Wasn't that big of a deal."

. But, he'd wind his arms around you, pulling you in close and you knew he was a softy underneath it all.

. "Had to have Kirishima help me pick between lilies and snapdragons... he told me to get both."

Kirishima

. More like Kaminari, the red-haired hero would show up with any bouquet of flowers just for the sake of seeing you smile.

. But, when you texted him telling him you'd gone home early after a particularly tough day he decided he really had to do something special this time around.

. So, he'd been standing in a flower shop, still in his hero costume, trying to ponder which one's you'd like best.

. The guy would start a group chat with all the people in 1A that might be able to help him. "Help! What's Y/N's favorite flower!?"

. After gushing about how sweet he was for trying to figure it out, it became very apparent that none of them were any help at all but they did remind him of your favorite color and he could work with that.

. He pulled them from behind his back when he got home, as nervous as the first time he'd brought you flowers. "So, which flower is your favorite?" He asked while you put them in water.

. You pulled out one of the flowers from the bunch and handed it to him.

. You'd told him how you didn't use to have one but that flower had coincidently been in every bouquet he'd given you and thus, became your favorite.

. Kiri nearly broke down from a cuteness overload.

Todoroki

. Todoroki rarely gives flowers.

. He just didn't want to resort to giving flowers in the way his father did to his mother. It felt sort of like a copout to him.

. Still, he can see the way you light up when other people get them and he really wanted that reaction out of you.

. That meant he had to get creative. Literally.

. He'd told you he was going out with Midoriya via text while you were still out on patrol and you thought absolutely nothing of it. Told him to have a fun time.

. "Why is this so difficult?" He grumbled while Midoriya picked it up so easily. He'd get it though, he was determined.

. When you arrived home, tired and longing for a shower, you were greeted by Todoroki holding out a small cluster of colorful paper flowers. "Do you like them?"

. Like them? Like? Like was an understatement! You loved them!

. He explained how he talked Midoriya into taking a class with him on how to make them and held up his hands so you could see all the bandaids from his paper cuts.

. After seeing your reaction, Todoroki got in the habit of hiding little paper flowers everywhere just to make your day.

Iida

. You told Iida how much you liked flowers on your very first date with him and ever since he's been known to go a little overboard...

. Like bouquets that were twice the size of your head.

. One time, when he was called away for work and was gone for two weeks, he sent flowers to your house every. single. day. You ran out of space to put them all!

. Still, seeing how happy he is to give them to you is more than enough reason for you to never complain.

. So, when he shows up to Friday night dinner, dropping a kiss on your cheek and whispering a soft, "I got you something." You weren't exactly surprised.

. You should have been though.

. He pulled out a small box and inside was a preserved flower. You recognized it from the first bouquet he'd ever given you.

. Iida sat across from you, adjusting his glass. "My mother had to help me get the preservation process correct but she assured me that as long as it is stored at..." He trailed off while you were still in awe of the incredibly sweet gift.

Midoriya

. Yeah, Midoriya knew your favorite flower before you even started dating. Well, he thought he did.

. He actually just jotted down things he knew his friends liked so he had a cheat sheet for gift giving.

. He was a studdering mess when you eventually corrected him.

. Ever since then though, he wouldn't just give you the actual flowers, he'd send you pictures of them. Get you artwork or a flower made out of clay for your desk.

. "I was on an assignment and saw this and I knew I had to get it for you!"

. Midoriya leads a super busy life but he always wants you to know he's thinking of you.

. He'd get big puppy dog eyes when you tell him you have the absolute perfect place for it.

A/N: Thanks for reading! I kinda want to try my hand at writing other people's prompts and ideas so if you have a request send it my way! Thank everyone!

[sunlight-moonrise]

Sugar, Spice, and Everything (Not So) Nice (Reid Imagine)

Summary: Being a Barista and falling for a regular is as cliche as it gets. Having that customer become your new professor? Not so much. 

A/N: *Peeks head out* Hello everyone. I have come back from my unannounced hiatus to show off this baby. Major thanks to @definitelynotkatesblog​ and @clean-bands-dirty-stories​ for helping me put this fic together. This was written for the lovely @httpnxtt​ for the secret-fic-swap in the Discord (thanks @imagining-in-the-margins​.) I hope you all enjoy this smutty goodness. 

Category: Smut

Content Warnings: Face Slapping, Degradation, Slight Hair Pulling, Oral Sex (male receiving), Fingering, Spanking, Penetrative Sex, Unprotected Sex/Creampie

Word Count: 6.4K

Masterlist

Being a barista is pretty awesome. Sure, there were bitchy customers and super early mornings but it had it’s redeeming perks. We got free coffee, tea, and snacks during our shifts, which served the caffeine addict in me. I also learned how to make popular lattes, mochas, and frappes that I ended up making at home for myself one too many times. While there were the occasional assholes who couldn’t appear human before getting their hands on some caffeine, there were the regulars who made it worth it. Most of the regulars were so sweet, I appreciated a familiar face when they came in. Some.. more than others.

“He’s baaaaaaaaack,” my coworker Hazel whispered to me in a sing-song voice as she scribbled a customer’s name on a cup. I turned to see who she was talking about, but I already had an inkling about who it was.

My suspicions were correct. I turned to see one of our kindest regulars, my personal favorite customer, Dr. Spencer Reid. Is it weird to know the full name -including the honorific- of a customer? Possibly. But when I’d asked for his name to write on his cup the first time he came in, he accidentally gave me his full name. 

“Dr. Reid- uh, Spencer. Sorry, work habit.” He stuttered, avoiding my eyes after the mistake.

“No worries! What can I get started for you?”

As a Criminology major,  I learned to study the people who catch my attention before indulging them. Call it an old habit. 

Dr. Spencer Reid had earned his title and then some. He’d joined the FBI at only 22, having six degrees under his belt by the age of 27. He’d written several dissertations and co-wrote novels with his colleague, David Rossi. Someone with his reputation could be a pompous ass and have a leg to stand on, which is what made his humbled demeanor so much sweeter. He was also incredibly easy on the eyes, which was a nice little bow on top. 

Hazel liked to joke about how we’d make a cute couple but I know she only did it to watch me get flustered.  

I walked towards the counter to take his order, leaving Hazel with the task of refilling the caramel syrup. I’m always the one to help him since he very aptly pointed out that I’m the only one who makes his coffee just how he likes it.  

Some days, he’d let me surprise him with a random creation. I’d confirm if he wanted caffeine (he always did), iced or not, and any flavor requests. He’d take his drink, tip me handsomely and let me know his thoughts on the drink the next time he came in. So far, his favorite was the almond milk honey latte I’d concocted. It was nice to have a little bit of fun, especially with regulars who were as consistent as him.

“Hey Doc, what can I get ya’?” I asked.

“The usual, please,” he said with a smile. I nodded and set off to make his drink: a venti dark roast with a shit ton of sugar, a dash of nutmeg, and a tiny bit of cinnamon.

“Of course!” I quickly go to fill his order, making sure to put a complimentary treat in a bag for him. I know he had the ultimate sweet tooth so I try to sneak him a confection whenever I can. At first, he was a bit reluctant to take the free pastries, but nowadays he usually smiles when he sees the small bag. 

“Here ya’ go.” I handed him his steamy cup of caffeine along with the little treat, seeing him smile at the small pun I add to his cup, “Have a BREW-tiful day, Doctor!” I watched as his lips landed on the rim of the cup, taking a long sip of the hot coffee. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, the sight making my cheeks promptly flush. I cleared my throat before asking, “Is it good?”

“It’s always good when you make it,” he stated matter of factly, a small smile touching his lips. The heat in my cheeks rose again. “Will you be taking a course this summer?” he asked, taking another sip of his coffee.

“Yeah, I’m really looking forward to it. My first day is actually later today. I’m surprised the class section was open, to be honest.” Super surprised actually. I’d been trying to enroll in this class for the past couple of semesters but it was always full by the time I was able to even load the registration page.

“Well, I’ll wish you luck, but I’m sure you won’t need it.”

“How can you be so sure?” 

“I can just tell.” He stated calmly, like it was common knowledge. I raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to explain. Before he could respond, an insistent cough caught both of our attention. I peeked over Spencer’s shoulder to see a customer waiting for his order to be taken. I turned my attention back to the Doctor, an annoyed look painted on my face. He nodded, taking a hint from the impatient mouth breather behind him. 

“Thank you for the coffee. Enjoy the rest of your day. I hope that class goes well.”

“Bye, you too.” I waved, watching as he exited the door. I turned to the waiting customer, a bit miffed that he interrupted our conversation. But because I was at work, I plastered a fake smile on my face so that he wouldn’t see just how annoyed I was. “Welcome, how may I help you?”

●●●

After clocking out at 2:30 PM, I made a dash for the building where my class would be held. It’s not supposed to start for another half-hour, but I wanted to be sure to get there in time to choose a good seat and settle in before the rest of the class arrived.

Luckily room 301 was relatively empty so I was able to score a perfect seat by the window. I decided to kill some time by listening to some music and doodling randomly in my notebook. Some time had passed when I felt someone take the seat next to me. I turned to see a young man occupying the chair beside mine. He looked to be a frat boy based on the Greek letters he was sporting. Who wears a cap and hoodie in this weather? I really hope he didn’t expect to cheat off of me- although these types of guys always seem to do so.

I was about to return to my doodle when I felt a poke on my shoulder. I turned to give the offender my full attention, removing one of the earbuds from my ears. 

“Hey, I’m Tony,” frat boy said, with a wide smile adorning his face. I must admit, his boyish grin melted the slight annoyance I had begun to stir toward him. I returned his greeting and introduced myself as well. “I don’t mean to be a bother,” he continued, “but I like to have at least one buddy in each of my classes. In case we need help or miss an assignment or something.”

I nodded my head - a friend in a class was always useful when it came to studying and swapping notes. We chatted a bit more, learning about each other’s major and why we both decided to take a summer course. Tony is a double major and this course will satisfy the credits he needs for his psychology requirement. This is why you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. 

It wasn’t until I heard the hush of the classroom that I realized the class was about to begin. I turned back to my notebook, preparing to jot down some important information despite it being the first day of class.

“Good morning class.” Wait. That voice... I didn’t even need to pick my head up to know who had spoken. “This is Criminal Psychology and I am your instructor, Doctor Spencer Reid. Unfortunately, Professor Monroe could not cover this course so I’ll be his permanent replacement. Now…”

I raised my head, watching as he continued to talk about what is to be expected in this course while a TA handed out the syllabus. He went on, able to capture the attention of everyone while speaking of the experiences he had with an array of criminals. His eyes scanned the room and for a brief moment I thought they would land on me, but they continued to take in the mass amount of students before him.

My concentration was broken by Tony passing me a copy of the syllabus. I scanned it over, making sure to highlight all the important dates. I didn’t want any exams or projects conflicting with my work schedule. I also made note of how the overall grade system is broken down. The whole thing seems pretty fair and everything was spaced out enough where I wouldn’t feel too overwhelmed with the workload.

“… and that pretty much wraps it up. Does anyone have any questions?” I tuned in just as he was pulling the first class to a close. No one raised their hands, so he dismissed us with a reminder to read the first chapter of the textbook and to check for any emails.

“So do you want to grab lunch?” Tony asked from beside me. I contemplated whether or not to go with him. He must have seen the hesitation in my face because he quickly added, “Not as a date or anything, I just wanted to grab a bite and I didn’t want to do it alone.”

“Sure,” I smiled, “Let me just ask the professor a quick question about his office hours and I’ll meet you at the food court.”

“Sweet, I’ll see you in a bit.” With that, Tony gathered his stuff and exited the back door. 

I focused my attention on the podium, seeing a gaggle of girls surrounding him asking redundant questions. From what I could hear, their questions could have been answered if they’d read the syllabus. I decided to give them the benefit of the doubt, they were probably more focused on him rather than what he was saying during class. I waited a few more minutes for them to finish up before I made my way to him.

“So do I call you Doctor or Professor now?” I laughed. 

“From you, I’d respond to either,” he replied warmly. The comment made me blush. If he looked into my eyes at that moment, he’d see more stars in them than the night sky. I bit my lip to stop the idiotic grin from spreading across my face. 

He’s your professor, get a hold of yourself.

“How can I help?” he asked, bringing me back to the original reason as to why I was standing in front of him without a cash register between us. 

I cleared my throat. “Um, I was wondering if it was possible to see you outside your normal office hours? I usually work the morning shifts and I don’t want to flood your emails with my questions.” I asked.

“Of course,” he said. “You can come to my office at whatever time works best for you. I know balancing a work and school schedule can be hard. Besides, I’m usually there handling paperwork anyway.” He gave a small shrug, pushing his hands in his pockets. 

“Thank you so much. I look forward to the rest of the semester Professor Reid.” I liked the way his newfound honorific rolled off my tongue. 

“Goodbye, Y/N.”

“Goodbye, Professor.” With that, I left and headed out to meet Tony. 

I was able to find him at the food court. We got some food and chatted more about our classes as well as life outside of school. He made it easy to be his friend, and it was nice having someone to talk to. He works as a waiter so we shared our customer service horror stories and tales of sneaking food at work. It was a nice distraction that took my mind off of Dr. Reid and the ongoing battle of calling him Doctor or Professor. As Tony rambled, my mind wandered about other things I’d like to call Spencer instead. 

●●●

In that short span of two weeks, we already had an exam, an oral presentation, and a report on the psychoanalysis of serial killers. Not one day had been wasted, but this is what to be expected from a summer course. The essay was due the day before. Now we had to wait for our grades which gave us a moment to take a breath.

I was worried that my paper was subpar; especially since I chose to write about Andrei Chikatilo, a serial killer from Ukraine. He wasn’t as popular as those in America, so I ended up spending hours on deep research to find substantial information about his crimes. It also didn’t help that some of the original reports weren’t in English. I had worked hard, and hoped Professor Reid would see that, even if my writing could sometimes be a little weak. I was worried about the grade as our research papers held the weight of 20% of our final mark. 

“Hello? Earth to Y/N! Anyone in there?” Hazel’s voice pierced through my worry bubble, her hand waving in front of my face. I shook my head, trying to focus on restocking the coffee beans.

“Sorry Haze, I’m thinking about this class.”

“Funny you say that; your favorite professor just walked in. Thought you might want to take his order.” She wagged her brows at me, making kissy faces as I hurried to the front register, trying my best to not let my eagerness be so glaringly obvious.

There he was, in his usual handsome glory, patiently waiting for me to take his order. He greeted me with a small smile that I happily returned.

“Hey Doc, what can I get you today?”

He debated for a moment before saying, “Surprise me.”

“Gotcha.” I already had an in my head; it’d been a while since he asked me to make him a random drink so I’d had plenty of time to plan. We got an early shipment of ingredients for our fall-themed drinks and I figured he would appreciate some pumpkin spice in his caffeine. “How are the papers coming along?” I asked casually as I rang him up.

“Pretty well. I’m almost done, so you’ll all receive your grades later today.” Wow, that was fast. I wondered if he stayed up reading all those papers to be done by today. Probably not, a TA must have helped him.

“I am a bit nervous about mine, especially since it’s worth a huge part of our final grade.” I really wanted to get an A in this course, but it was hard juggling everything in such a short amount of time.

“Don’t worry about it too much,” he reassured. “I haven’t properly finished yours yet but it looked great just from what I’ve seen thus far.” His words gave me a little reassurance.

“Thanks. I put a lot of effort into it. Let me grab your coffee now.” Spencer walked towards the pick-up station while I grabbed a venti cup for his drink. Just when I was about to make his order, I saw another familiar face come up to the register. “Tony, hey!” I shouted, placing the cup back down, “What can I get you?” 

This was the first time he’d been here, despite him saying for the past few days that he’d stop by for a visit, even with the promise of a cake pop if he did. It was nice to see another familiar face.

“Hey coffee girl, how you doin’ today?”

“Just peachy. My feet are killing me, though.” Just saying the words caused the ache on the soles of my feet to spike higher. I thanked my lucky stars I was almost done with this eight-hour shift.

“Give me the chance to sweep you off your feet, I promise you won’t regret it.” he offered boldly. It wasn’t the first time he’d joked about taking me out. I laughed, especially since he had a girlfriend. She met us for lunch one day and we became fast friends- she was an incredibly sweet and intelligent girl, polite and elegant as well. It is a wonder how his frat boy charm won her over but opposites attract, I guess.

“Shut up, Casanova. What are you gonna have?”

“I’ll have a grande iced matcha latte, please.” I should’ve known. He told me that he loves matcha flavored food and drinks the first time we grabbed lunch after class. He had complained that there was no good place to get one on campus. 

“Coming right up.” I quickly filled his order since it was faster to make compared to the pumpkin spiced latte. I handed him his bribe-cake pop, matcha flavor of course, while he waited for me to finish making his drink.

“By the way, we’re still studying at the library for the exam later tonight, right?” Tony asked.

“Yup, I’ll meet you at 8.”

“Copy that, see you later coffee girl.” He turned to leave while I turned to make Professor Reid’s order. I put extra whip cream and a bit more syrup to satiate his sweet tooth. I grabbed a fresh chocolate muffin from the display case and popped it into a bag for him as well, drawing yet another pun on the good doctors bag. “Thanks for being such a TEA-rrific professor!”

“Here ya’ go Doc,” I called out before placing his drink and muffin on the counter. I looked up to see him no longer smiling. “Is everything okay?”

Ignoring my question, he said, “I wasn’t aware you were so close to Mr. Montgomery.”

“Oh yeah, we study together once in a while.” I could have sworn I saw his frown deepen before his features became void of any emotions. He shifted his eyes downward, his hand moving rapidly to grab the cup.

“I should get going.”

“Oh, okay” Before I could say goodbye, he was already halfway out the door. 

That was weird. I looked at the counter and noticed that he left the cupcake behind. Maybe he was in a rush?

I shook my head. I needed to concentrate on making it through the last couple of hours of work. 

●●●

I made my way to the classroom, smiling at Tony as he pulled out my seat for me. Professor Reid walked in a few minutes later, his tall figure drawing all the attention to the center of the small stage. He let us know he already graded the papers and that they would be distributed by the TA before the end of class. I had a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach but decided to brush it off and pay attention in class. Despite my attempts to focus on his lecture, I found my mind wandering every so often anyway.

I couldn’t help but think he was less animated today. Usually, he taught with such passion that the class couldn’t take their eyes off him. But today, it felt as if we were all in a boring seminar with an ancient professor. Tony kept glancing at the clock, probably also wondering why time felt like it was going by so slowly. 

I couldn’t shake the unsettled feeling the entire class. It didn’t help matters that every time I would raise my hand to answer a question, he would call on another student. What the hell did I do? 

I decided to tune out the rest of the class. There is no point in being an actively engaged student if I wasn’t going to get treated like one. I’d just get the notes from Tony later.

Thirty minutes before the end of class, the TA handed out our essays while Professor Reid wrapped. 

“Some of you did very well, while a few others struggled with the assignment.” His eyes landed on mine as he said that. It was the first time he had glanced in my direction the whole class. He moved on to the other side of the room. My mind was probably just playing tricks on me. “If you have any questions you can see me at my office hours next week or send me an email. You are dismissed.”

The TA finally made his way over to me, handing my essay in a slight fold. I looked at the grade on top and almost dropped the paper. My heart sped up as I stared at the letter in bright red ink. No way, no way this could be my report. I looked at the right-hand corner and saw my name at the top. I read through the first page and saw they were indeed my words.

How the fuck was it possible that I got a D on this paper? I knew my writing wasn’t the strongest, but a D? 

“How you’d do?” Tony asked. For a moment I forgot I was in a room with other people.

I cleared my throat, trying to relive the lump so that he didn’t hear the croak in my voice. “Umm, not what I expected. I’m going to try to speak to him about it.” Tony was a smart kid, so I was sure he could see how tense I was. Luckily he didn’t question me any further and instead told me he’d text me later before leaving the classroom.

Fortunately, there were no other students in the classroom to slow me down this time. I walked right up to the podium, watching as Professor Reid placed some papers in his satchel. 

“Professor, I need to speak with you.”

“Not now, I’m busy,” he replied, not even bothering to glance in my direction. This can’t be real. The sweet, kind Doc could not be the man acting like a total asshole right now.

“I really need to discuss with you my paper,” I pressed, raising my voice a little louder in an attempt to get his attention. That was wishful thinking on my part since he continued to fiddle with his satchel.

“I said I’m busy,” he uttered once again, his voice void of any emotion. He was about to walk past me, ignoring my whole being. His blatant disregard made my cheeks burn, and not in the usual way they usually did when I was around him.

“Spencer,” I barked, “We need to talk. Now.” For a few moments, he stood in front of me, his back facing my direction.

I was about to speak again before I heard him say, “My office. Half an hour.” He exited, leaving me alone in an empty classroom. The only things keeping me company were the fuming feelings swirling inside me and the failed paper clutched at my fist. 

●●●

I knocked on his office door ten minutes earlier than he’d told me. The anger in my gut brewed hotter the longer I waited. As soon as I heard a “Come in,” I rushed through the door, slamming it behind me. He regarded me coolly, but didn’t comment on my actions. 

“What can I do for you Ms. (Y/L/N)?” I walked up to his large desk, not bothering to take a seat in the chair in front of me. I took a moment to calm myself down before replying.

“Well, you can start by explaining to me why I got such a low score on my paper.” I guess he didn’t like being the only one of us sitting down because he stood up and leaned against the wall behind him.

“It did not meet the requirements for a passing grade as outlined in the rubric. The information given was boring and the overall topic was uninteresting. It was tedious to get through,” he responded nonchalantly, like he was giving me a weather report.  

“You said that you enjoyed it so far.” I rebutted, placing my hands on the desk. I needed something to offer me stability so that I wasn’t visibly shaking.  

“I’d mistaken your work for another student’s. Maybe Mr. Montgomery,” he dryly clipped.

A bitter laugh escaped me as I put the puzzle together. Was- was he serious? Was this man acting like this because of Tony? The audacity! The laugh that bubbled from my lips must have unsettled him. He left his position from the wall in favor of standing in front of me.

“You want to know what I think?” I didn’t give him a chance to respond before continuing, “I think you’re jealous that I have another guy that isn’t you getting friendly with me at the shop and because of your inability to keep your---“

“That is enough,” he grounded out, shaking his head. But I didn’t stop talking.

“--private feelings away from your professional ones, you decided to give me a failing grade. Do you know how hard I worked in-” my voice rose up higher and higher until I was yelling.

“I said that’s enough,” he said again, louder this time. But I wasn’t done.

“-this class? This is my life, my fucking future on the line. I’ve told you how important this all is to me and you don’t even give a shit! You’re going to let your interpretation of my relationship with another student influence the way you do your job? And here I thought you were a decent man, Professor.” I hissed, “Do you even give a damn abo-”

“Enough,” he roared, slamming his hands on the desk and caging me against the wood. His breathing was matching the upbeat pace of my own. His quick movement and the sheer volume of his voice caught me off guard, effectively silencing me. 

“I don’t deserve to be punished over your envy,” I whispered, locking eyes with him in a steady gaze.

“You want to see a real punishment, darling?” he hissed, the heat of his words almost breaking my glare, his breath fanning along my face.

We stared at one another for a while, neither of us willing to be the first to back down. The tension between us kept rising and rising until the inevitable happened. I couldn’t be sure who made the first move but before I knew it, our lips collided with a mix of rage and desperation. My arms draped around his neck as he pressed me on to the desk. He placed his hands on the back of my thighs, lifting me up high enough until I was perched on the cool wooden surface.

Spencer’s lips were soft, a stark contrast to the harsh way he was kissing me. His tongue parted my lips, gliding over mine with fervor. I couldn’t help but moan as he rolled his hips into me. He continued his rough grind, keeping my legs open as we moved as close together as our bodies would allow. He overwhelmed my senses- the smell of him, the taste of him, the feel of him. Everything was making me absolutely feral for this man. 

I never expected the gentle Dr. Reid to be so fervent, so sensual. The kindhearted, sweet professor who regularly drank his weight in caffeine never gave me this impression. But then again, I’m sure he was shocked by my attitude as well. He knew me as the friendly, bubbly barista, now student, who enjoyed his class. He was about to meet a whole new side of me, just like I was going to for him.

Spencer pulled away from me, our mouths making an audible ‘pop’ sound from the sudden separation. I tried to catch my breath as he stared at me, our chests rising and falling together. If I were to move a bit closer to him, we would be touching once again.

He took a few steps back before motioning me to step in front of him. “I want you to get down on your knees. Now.” I wasn’t going to argue with him, mainly because I wanted the exact same thing he did. I kneeled down, keeping my eyes on his face.

“You going to shut me up, Professor?” I teased, feeling powerful, even though he was looming over me. He didn’t reply, just continued to look down on me with those honey colored eyes- full of lust and rage.

I watched as he slowly placed his hands on his slacks, undoing the belt and buttons. He drew down his pants and boxers at the same time, just low enough to reveal his impressive size. My mouth salivated at the sight of his bulge as he came closer to me.

“We’re going to put that smart mouth to better use. Open.” He said, gripping my face between his fingers, forcing me to follow his orders. I opened my mouth slightly, not giving him exactly what he wanted. Instead of ordering my mouth to open further like I expected, he placed his thumb inside. He pushed the digit deep, pressing it against my tongue. I moaned around the finger, softly nibbling at the skin. He continued to slide his finger within my mouth before dragging it out completely. He wiped the excess spit on my cheek before lightly smacking it. The small shock of pain sent a shiver down my spine.

“Open, and do it right this time.”

I obeyed, opening wide enough to accept him into my mouth. My lips were stretched almost uncomfortably in an attempt to fit around him. He was so hot and thick, I couldn’t help but hum at the taste of him on my tongue. The soft “fuck” that fell from his lips had me purring around him. I went to place my hands on the remaining portion that couldn’t fit, but he batted them away.

“You’re using only your mouth.” 

Fine, have it your way, Sir. 

I placed my hands behind me as I bobbed my head, hallowing my cheeks with every rise. His shallow thrusts encouraged me to suck harder. I slowly pulled away to run my tongue against the vein protruding on the underside of his cock. I was rewarded with a groan escaping his lips.

“I should have known that you would be so good at this, darling,” he said, his voice slightly hoarse as he tried to control his grunts.

I made sure to look in his eyes as I swirled my tongue around the head of his cock. The face he made was purely angelic. The muscles of his neck protruded more evidently and his breathing became more labored. I placed him back in my mouth, this time taking my time to go down on him.

“That’s right, Princess. Show me what a good girl you are for me.” He moaned as I felt his hands weave in my hair before he pushed my head down on to him, causing me to gag around him, tears pricking my eyes. He continued his thrusts into my mouth, barely allowing me a chance to breathe. My nose repeatedly touched the base of him as I swallowed around his hard length.

Spencer tightened his fingers in my hair and I knew he wasn’t going to last much longer.  The pace was brutal, but I enjoyed the rough treatment. Knowing that I was the one making him feel good was such a turn on. He buried himself deep in my throat after a few more thrusts to finish. I swallowed his release like the greedy brat that we both now knew I was.

He eventually pulled out, a satisfied sigh leaving his lips. I swiped the back off my hand across my mouth to clean off any leftover spit and cum.

“Get up,” he ordered, his voice hoarse.

I did so, rubbing the ache in my knees as I slowly rose. “I want you bent over the desk,” he continued.

“I want you to answer my previous question.” I quipped.

“You’re not in the position to be making commands,” he growled. He wrapped his fingers in my hair again, pulling just roughly enough so that I was looking up at his face. “If you want this to end well for you, I suggest bending over my desk before I stuff my cock in that bratty little mouth of yours again.”

He released me, eyes still on my face waiting for me to follow through on his order. I turned to his desk and did as he asked, bending over the wood until my chest laid flat against the surface. I waited as patiently as I could for him. It felt as if I was in this position for an eternity before he touched me. He pushed both my underwear and skirt down to my knees before placing his hands on my hips. I heard it before I felt it- the smack on my ass that caused me to yelp.

“Fuck, Spencer. What the—” I was cut off with another resounding smack.

“Did you really think that I wasn’t going to give you a real punishment, darling?” I took a deep breath as another shiver went down my spine. He had no business sounding so hot right now. Another smack, this time on my opposite cheek, had me biting down on my lip to stop myself from crying out.

“This” *SMACK* “Is” *SMACK* “What” *SMACK* “Happens” *SMACK* “To” *SMACK* “Bratty” *SMACK* “Little” *SMACK* “Girls” *SMACK*. A sob ripped from my chest as the last blow landed. My ass was on fire and surely littered with his hand prints.

“You’re lucky I’m in a good mood since you sucked me off so nicely, or I would have made that worse.”

Gee, thanks.

“You look like such a dirty slut like this.” I felt a finger enter me easily, the wetness gathered there making my entrance ready to take him. “So wet. Was it the spanking that got you like this, or your mouth around my cock?” A moan was my only reply as he added another finger, the two digits moving in a scissoring motion. 

“Are you gonna be my sweet girl, now?” He asked as I moved my hips along his fingers, desperately trying to seek some more relief for the fire burning between my thighs as his mouth littered marks along my thighs. I closed my eyes, focusing on the pleasure he was giving me as he curled his fingers, a slow moan falling from my lips. He pulled them out of me, wiping the slickness against my still burning ass. Fucking bastard. I wiggled my hips against him, hoping he would grant me a reprieve and put his fingers back inside me. Instead, he spanked my ass one more time- one quick, sharp blow against the bruised cheek.

Just when I was about to yell at him, he placed the head of his member against my entrance. He moved up and down my drenched entrance before penetrating me in one full thrust. I took a short breath in, trying to get used to feeling so full. He was stretching me out in the most amazing way.

Spencer waited until I was grinding against him before he pulled out and pushed back into me. “Look at you, such a wanton little bitch aren’t you?” He could call me whatever he wanted, as long as he didn’t stop fucking me.

He kept a steady pace, making sure to grind into me every time he slammed back in. The obscene sound of our skin smacking against one another’s and the moans escaping our throats was an erotic symphony that had my body heat raising the temperature in the room.

He hitched my leg on top of the desk, entering in an angle that made the pleasure so much better. I couldn’t stop the whines that kept escaping my mouth every time he pounded into me. His hand stayed upon my leg, holding me down and limiting my movements. His nails dug into the skin so harshly I was sure there would be bruises left in their wake.  

“Fuck, you feel so good wrapped around me,” he hissed under his breath. “Should have known you just needed to be fucked like the cheap whore you are.” He sped up, hips snapping at an almost punishing pace. The desk creaked every time he slammed into me. I hoped no one was nearby to hear what was going on. A whine left my throat when I felt his fingers rub against my clit. I was so close now.

“Should I stay inside you? Fill you up so you walk around campus carrying my child?” He growls, his pace increasing with each passing moment. “Knock you up so the whole campus knows what a whore you are for me?” He asks, earning a cry ripped from my throat. 

“Who’s fucking you?” he grunted. I don’t know how he expected me to form a coherent statement at this current moment. My eyes could barely stay open at this point. 

“Spencer, please.” He smacked the outside of my thigh.

“Try again, who’s fucking you?” 

“You are, Doctor.” Apparently, that was the wrong answer too, because it earned me another smack on my thigh. I had tears streaming down my face from the pleasurable pain he was giving me.

“You have one more chance or else I’m not letting you come. Now, who’s is fucking you?”

“Professor Reid!” I cried out.

“That’s right darling. Now come on my cock.” A harsh bite on my neck was the ultimate push that had me seeing stars. Spencer thrusted a few more times before fully sheathing himself within me.

He slumped over me, the feel of his breath against my neck causing me to shiver once more. We took a moment to have the high leave our body before he pulled out of me, a gasp leaving the both of us. Spencer was the first to break the silence between us.

“Would you like to have dinner with me?” he asked, his voice a bit shy. 

I giggled at his demeanor. A few moments ago, he was fucking me senseless and spanking me over his desk like a porno, and now he was asking me out to dinner. 

“Absolutely,” I smiled. “But I should probably cancel my study plans.” I quickly added. 

He led me to the faculty bathroom so I could freshen myself up. When I emerged, he was back to being the prim and proper professor I knew him to be. Just before we left his office, he leaned down and whispered, “By the way, you got an A.”

[punkpresentmic]

alarms dont work to wake aizawa up unless they're mic's voice

I love this prompt; it’s such a sweet thought to me. That being said, I immediately wanted to push how far this applies: 

Aizawa can sleep through any alarm, which can be a bit troublesome when UA’s fire alarm goes off during his nap.

Rated G, 980 words.

“One, two, three—Hey now, listeners! Ya gotta stop moving! It’s totally throwing off my count, yo! One—” Yeah, this wasn’t going to work. The students buzzed around Hizashi like bees and he loved the energy—really he did—but it also wasn’t computing in their bright young minds that their favorite English teacher was trying to make sure none of his kiddos were still in the building with the shrieking fire alarms. Alright, so different approach; Hizashi took a deep breath. “HEY ARE THERE ANY OF YOUR CLASSMATES WHO ARE UNACCOUNTED FOR?” 

That got their attention. They stopped to take stock of the students around them, some more chattering among their swarm before Tensei’s little bro shouted out their findings: “All members of class 1-A are here, sir!” 

Hizashi let out a sigh of relief, checking his phone to see if there were any deets in the teacher’s group chat yet, but it was still only Nezu’s diplomatic ‘We are still looking into the cause behind the alarms. Please follow protocol until the fire department arrives.’ 

Hound Dog had posted a string of emojis after it. Hizashi was attempting to decode them when a quieter voice piped up: “Mr. Present Mic?” 

He straightened, twirling on his heel with a pair of finger guns and a reassuring grin at the ready. “Asui, my star student! What’s the hops?” 

“Have you seen Mr. Aizawa?” 

Hizashi’s brows drew together. “Aizawa…?” He was quick to shake it off; the students were already on edge as it was. “I’m sure he’s around here somewhere! Probably curled up in his sleeping bag! Don’t worry ‘bout it, little listener!”  

He’d just seen Shou—he’d sent the guy on his break at the start of English—but a quick sweep over the heads of all these hero-hopefuls brought up no Shouta. Hizashi tried calling. Straight to voicemail. He chewed the inside of his cheek. Surely not… 

But… 

To be as talented at snoozing as his Shouta, you had to be some kinda special when it came to sleeping through noises that’d wake any lesser man. And Shou had developed this thing since they’d started living together years ago of falling asleep to the radio, only getting up for patrol when he heard Hizashi’s show come on—the schedules coinciding. 

To put it plainly, Shou could sleep through the end of the world, only to wake up to a word from Hizashi. Which meant… 

Damn it. He was probably in that storage closet again after he’d gotten reprimanded for napping in the teacher’s lounge. 

“IIDA, MY STAR STUDENT! Make sure no one wanders off, would ya?” 

Shouta had kept up the habit over the years: putting on a playlist with an episode of Put Your Hands Up Radio strategically placed in the queue, setting one of the licensed Present Mic wake-up-calls as his alarm, Hizashi’s humming in the kitchen luring him out of bed on a weekend. Shouta’s logic was that if Hizashi’s voice was what worked to get him up, why waste time finding something else. Hizashi could hardly claim he didn’t enable it; it was sweet. 

But it also probably meant his husband was napping to music in a storage closet where the flashing lights of the alarms couldn’t reach him. 

There weren’t exactly flames bursting out the windows though. Hizashi couldn’t even see smoke, though obviously the alarms had detected something that wasn’t quickly explained away by a science teacher or an embarrassed student with a fire quirk. Nothing stopped him entering.

Hizashi jogged through the empty UA halls, his boots loud on the tile and leather squeaking in protest. He threw open the door to the storage closet, sighing as he was greeted by exactly what he expected: Shouta Aizawa, pro-hero Eraserhead, snoring on the floor in his sleeping bag surrounded by cleaning supplies. Hizashi knelt at his side, gently removing one of his earbuds. “Hey, Shou. Time to get up, babe.” 

Shouta groaned, squirming away unhappily. “No it isn’t. What do you want, Hizashi.” 

“Shouta, light of my life, you’re sleeping through a fire alarm.” 

He was silent a moment, processing that and the still-blaring alarms and the fact that his mental calendar offered up no memory of a scheduled drill. “So I shouldn’t finish my nap,” he surmised.

“Probably not, love. Come on. Everyone’s outside.” 

Shouta stretched lazily, obviously not sensing any urgency in Hizashi’s voice and responding in kind. Hizashi helped pull him up off the ground, the two strolling back through the halls toward the exit. “So you came back for me?” Shouta mused. 

“Baby you’re smoking hot and all, but I didn’t specifically want that to be literal.” 

Shouta hummed. 

“I do think I’ve earned the right as your hero to fireman carry you out of the building.” 

Shouta continued to ignore him, looking around as they stepped out the doors together. Firetrucks were beginning to pull up. “I still don’t see any fire?” 

On cue, one of the 1-A boys slid to a stop in front of his homeroom teacher. “SENSEI,” he gasped, clearly having sprinted over here. “Glad I caught you. Um. So. Hypothetically.” 

“What did you do, Kaminari.”

“Hypothetically! If someone were to, say, use the staffroom microwave for lasagna—just an example!—when they might have said they were going to the bathroom during English... But like they totally didn’t mean to skip breakfast; it just sorta happened, and hey they had some lasagna packed for lunch so why not make it a brunch sorta scenario, right? Um.” Kaminari cleared his throat. “Hypothetically what would happen and also is that illegal actually?”  

Shouta let out a long-suffering sigh. “Hypothetically I think that student should be expelled.” 

All the color flushed from the poor kid’s face. 

“Unless of course they owned up to their actions and came with me to explain the situation to the firefighters whose time they’ve wasted. Come on.”

[abbynx]

La Squadra Esecuzione as Best Friends Headcanons

Formaggio - Very chill, first and foremost, he is down for anything to do. Videogames? He'll try to beat your ass. Cat cafes? Heck ye he is down - The type of friend who will coax you to cut class to hang out behind the school or climb over the school fence to hang around the local arcade or theatre. But if he get caught, he won't snitch and he's willing to take responsibility. Begrudgingly. - Ohhhh physical touch is bare minimum for him. He'll occasionally lean on you, perhaps shrink himself to fit himself in your pocket just to platonically cuddle and perhaps, use you as a transport. - Will high five you as a greeting, and will high five you as a farewell. Usually followed by a hug too uwu "Bro!" He holds his hand out for a high five, in which you instinctively grant him one, when he also entwines his fingers through yours and pulling you for a hug, patting your back for a second and pulling away. "I missed you bro!" - Prepare for dumb jokes, dumb puns that he effortlessly come up with as time goes by. You can't go on a day without him cracking a joke. You'd either roll your eyes at it or laugh along with him. There's nothing in between "You see that guy over there, bro?" He leans on you, arm draped around your shoulder as he points at a person from afar. "Yeah, what?" "I say... You'd be a perfect match." You glanced at him, hearing him shake a box of matches as he wiggled his eyebrows with a dumb grin. - *Finger guns and bro intensifies* Illuso - That weird person you don't see yourself associating yourself with somehow befriended him for some reason. Most likely started when you both started to wake up at 3 AM and meet in the middle of the dark, in the kitchen, wanting to grab something to eat. At first it is awkward, but soon you learned to bond through it! And soon enough, your midnight chats extended to become actual friendships! - Seems distant, but he cares. He's the type pretend not to care about you, but will glare (or more than glare depending at the severity) at people who hurt you. He is the 'I'm the only one allowed to insult them like that' type of friend. "Huh, Formaggio hasn't been teasing me. I wonder what happened." You wondered aloud, as you say beside your friend Illuso. "Must be because of his bruised jaw. The previous mission must've been tough for him." "Yeah... That..." - Probs touched-starved. He acts irritated and push you away when you try to hug him, but secretly loves it. If you stop trying to hug him, he'd be kinda sad but will not say anything. - This friendship includes you listening to him rant about every little thing, and brag about things he can't do. He appreciates you listening to be honest, and that's initially how your friendships started anyways. - Will use derogatory terms as a term of endearment. Please don't be offended, he doesn't mean any offense "Hey idiot! Get your sorry ass right here! Risotto said we have someone to take care of!" "Thanks, dumbass." "Eyo slut! Take a look at this fugly idiot!" - Does not have the habit of knocking. In fact, he just barges into your room, through the mirror. In more than one occasion has he seen you undressed but he couldn't care less about it. "Hey dumbass can I borrow your— hey, stop screaming! Anyways I ran out of hair ties, do me a solid—" - Everyone around you being confused to how you two are most unlikely to become friends, but you two are practically unlikely twins Prosciutto - You can not stop me from assuming he is quite the mom friend if you pry his shell hard enough. Perhaps a mom friend mixed with tsundere friend. "Hey! Drink your water or I'll break your ankles! No I don't care that we're in the middle of killing someone! I packed you some water and you didn't drink it! Well shit I didn't pack it specifically for you, I just managed to pack extra! Now go ahead and drink, I'll handle this one myself! While you're at it, coat yourself with sunscreen! If I hear you whining about being burnt, I swear to God—" - If you happen to be a mom friend too, you'd be bonding over the

mutual stress of having to look over the rest of the gang over a glass of wine as chaos around you ensues because you two decided to take a small break. "Formaggio and Ghiaccio is up at it again..." You sigh, swirling the content of your stemware as the distant bickering of the two aforementioned assassins echoed. "Just... Let's just lay low. It'll be over soon." Prosciutto sighs along as well, before downing his glass of whiskey. "Hopefully." And it didn't end, as it ensued and progressive got worse. Stands were called, knives were thrown, guns were shot. And two mom friends of La Squadra almost lost their voice from all the yelling and lecturing - Will scold you for your bad habits. Bad posture? He will walk behind you, press his knee on your back and roll your shoulders back whilst he lectures you about it. Messy time management? Will buy you crap to make you keep track of time. Sleeping so late? He will take whatever you're distracted with, demand you to turn your lights off as he lights soothing scented candles and tossing you some comfortable blankets to use. Barely taking care of yourself? Bro prepare yourself. "I don't understand how you live like this! You'd be dead if you were to continue that habit! At least help me help you to make you be better!" - Very blunt and honest to the point it stings, but he never lies to people he is closed to. He prefers being upfront with his loved ones and will try to rebuild their confidence and reassure them that they can be better than what they are. "When I say you're idiotic, you're but a burden, I mean it. You have all rights to be hurt by it, but don't just live with it. Prove me wrong, that you can be better than that and you'll be the best version of yourself. I know you can do it." - Will accept hugs, but will most likely not hug back. Maybe he'll just out one hand on your back and lightly stroke it, but that's it. But in rare occasions, he will return them too. Sometimes, he'll even initiate it. - Your connection to him as a friend has lead several advantages. No one in general can make a negative comment about you with Prosciutto around. His glare alone was scary and they would not wish to stick around and find out what he can do than just glaring. - Extremely appreciates when you help him around by simply carrying things for him, fetching him coffee and actually doing your damn job properly is enough to make him be filled with gratitude. Pesci - Baby. Okay, so this boy. Boy oh boy, he is baby. Take care of him, bro. Don't coddle him to the point of him being entirely dependent on you, but sis you can always reassure and make him improve himself! Perhaps a tamer version of his relationship with his brother. - You two will mostly likely be friends because you always defend him from the others from teasing him and rooting for him. He is very grateful for it and can't thank you enough. Either that, or Prosciutto paid you to babysit him. - Will constantly cling on your arm when he's anxious. It's up to you whether you'll snap at him and slap his hand away, or just let him hang around you. He'll just simply grab your wrist, and sooner and later he'd have his body pressed against yours, completely clinging on the entirety of your arm. "D-don't leave me, Y/N! I'm scared—!" - He is extremely thankful for you watching over him and protecting and by this, he tries to improve himself a lot more just so he can confidently say he can watch over you and protect you as well - Just the sweetest little thing, whenever he'd be away with Prosciutto for a mission he'd return home bearing gifts from travel and he'd give it to you. It would be something either miniature, or something practical like a knife sharpener or something. "I-I got this for you... I hope you like it! Big bro helped me pick!" - Honestly, I can imagine him just being the best, supportive and encouraging friend there could be. If ever you needed someone to confide in, he'd just sit and listen and will certainly not repeat what you told him to others. He'll try his best to comfort

you, taking inspiration to how you comfort him and will just try his best to make you feel better. "I know life is rough and hard and bad, but you always told me it will change and soon it all be over and better. It's good that you recognise you're in a bad place, now you need to take a break and then later you won't even know you've already forgotten your problem! It's okay to be sad, too, but not for too long." - The type of friend that will share anything he has. He has a cookie with him? Shit, he'll split it in half and give the other half to you. Some soda? Well I hope you don't mind drinking from the same can as he is, he will give it to you. Melone - So this nerd isn't a complete creepy pervert, not entirely at all. He's chill for most of the time, so he's a neat company if you don't mind him bombarding you with questions regarding your genetics, heritage records, blood type, zodiac signs and whatnot. But knows when to stop. - You most likely befriended him because he is one of the chill people in the group... Somewhat. Or perhaps you just started to bond over mutual love for steamy, erotic novels from the same author. If this man has shame, his guilty pleasures would be reading these types of trashy novels filled with smut. - He is great as a wingman. Complain to him about your lack of a love life, he'll observe your types and he'll somehow come up with a list by the next day enthusiastically listing them to you in a PowerPoint presentation. "If you're into girls, I have this one right here! She's compatible with your zodiac sign, although she has quite the temper she can be extremely passionate and affectionate— or perhaps you're into men, that I have as well. Several, actually. This other fellow right here is also a part of Passione from the Human trafficking branch, stoic and quite a stern one, but knows when to lay low at times and appreciate those around him— either him or the girl, you'd make good babies together!" "Melone, what the fuck—" - Very touchy. He'd lean his head on your lap as you both read on the couch, or randomly put his head on your shoulder during meetings, grab you by the arm while crossing the road, smacking your ass as a greeting (if you tell him stop, he'd stop of course), will pretend to kiss you just so he can see your reaction, anything. He is one affectionate nut that he sometimes forget about personal spaces. If you're not particularly fond of being touched like I am, simply tell him nope. I mean, he'd be sad but will respect your boundaries. The only time he'll actually respect established boundaries, to be honest. - Knows the most random facts and will share them to you for the fun of it. Additional to that, he will also mutter his shower thoughts and random cursed facts out loud just so he can curse you with the knowledge and confusion. "Did you know that dolphins masturbate using dead fishes? Also, there was an experiment involving dolphins in which one of the scientist fell in love and had sex with it. Another fact, is that dolphins are also seen doing the deed—" "Okay, Melone, I get it! Dolphins aren't as innocent as they seem! Stop ruining it for me already!" ... "Did you know that a woman once used mayonnaise as a lubri—" "MELONE!" - Being his friends meaning being his impulse control. If he intends to use his Stand on some innocent passerby just for the heck of it (for science, as he claims), smack him by the wrist and glare at him. If he eyes a particular someone for too long that the person gets too uncomfortable, try to divert his attention away. "Ow! Y/N what the heck—!" "What did I told you about oogling at people? It's impolite and creepy, stop that!" - He may not seem like it, but bro he cares a lot. If ever you had a problem, he'd sit and listen, offer you his shoulder to cry on, and perhaps hang out to divert your attention away from what's bothering and hurting you. And if you need advice, he'll try his best to come up with a flawless solution to your problems. But if comfort is what you need, his arms are open baby. Ghiaccio

- Bro you must need emergency ear plugs for this one, he is a massive screamer, a ticking time bomb with no timer that will erupt at random. If ear plugs aren't enough, cover your ears. - Befriending him was an impulse control befriending him. Well, all you did was to constantly try to calm his tits and cool his head to the point he actually barges in your room to hang out so that he can cool his head from all of the shenanigans occuring all around him, or maybe he just had another thought about something maddening about the world. "WELL WHY?! WHY IS WOMEN'S CLOTHES SIZING CHART DIFFER FROM EACH STORE?! THAT DOESN'T EVEN MAKE SENSE! INCHES AND CENTIMETRES EXISTS FOR A REASON, DAMNIT!" - There are moments where he isn't screaming, thankfully and he's a decent person to talk to. If you're a listener, he'll do the talking, just ranting about things, rambling on and on, before complaining, and then another outbursts comes out. By this, you simply sigh, put a hand on his shoulder and talk to him in a gentle, calming voice. It usually does the trick. Formaggio and Melone joked about this talent of yours as witchcraft. - He appreciates you a lot and honestly doesn't know what to do without you and by that, he knows he has to reciprocate the care you give him somehow to show he is grateful of your friendship and care. He isn't the type to be physically affectionate, but he is extremely thoughtful about his closed loved onesa and prefers to be practical about it. He would save you your seat in meetings, fetch you snacks if he ran out for an errand, etc etc. Extremely observant of your mannerisms, that he might point that out to you and you won't even realise you do that. - So like, he is very protective as a friend. He will do something whenever someone has wronged you in any way. The others teasing you? Bam, he'll shoot them back with a witty insult. Your s/o cheated on you? Ohohoho boi, be prepared to see their name on a headline on the daily news. Your order was wrong? Bam, he'll have the waiter shaking in fear from a screaming, angry Italian mafioso as he demands for them to remake your order correctly. "WELL CAGACAZZO?! QUIT STANDING AROUND AND GET ORDERS CORRECTLY—" "G-Ghiaccio it's just a minor thing, let it go—" "THEY SERVED YOU AN INGREDIENT YOU SPECIFICALLY TOLD THEM NOT TO INCLUDE BECAUSE YOU'RE ALLERGIC TO IT! WHY ARE YOU LETTING THIS SLIDE OFF?!" - All in all, he's just glad you're there for him because damn, someday his temper is going to get the best of him and he doesn't know what to do. And with your friendship, he's learned how to cope with his spontaneous anger by carrying soothing stuff to ease his nerves (courtesy of your suggestions and gifts for him) - Basically the dynamic of a rapid gremlin with rabies and a calm, sunshine personified angel. Everyone (Riz, including, but he's more subtle and dry about it) joked about the unlikely friendship, and how your ears must've lost a little bit of hearing capacity. Rissoto - I feel like he'd be extremely attached to a childhood friend. You've been friends since before you underwent the drastic change by going through a lot to get to where he is now, and still the only person that stuck around with him was you. By that, you became the most trusted by him due to the fact you've known each other for very long. - As his best friend, you're his confidant and finds himself often going to you if ever he needed advice, or needed to vent about his stress. He really isn't vocal but when he's confiding in you, his words spill out of his mouth usually sealed tightly just steadily flows, his big strong Capo veneer falls apart in front of you but he doesn't necessarily feel unsafe by being vulnerable. That's how he trusts you. - No one will dare to bad mouth you in front of the Capo, or else there'd be hell to pay for. I mean, teasing is fine, he knows you can handle burns from team mates here and there (and will silently smirk at it) but he will not stand it if they attempt to belittle you for something unreasonable. "Watch your mouth. That was

out of their control, stop blaming them for something they can't do." - The type of friend that doesn't know how to comfort someone, but will try their best. So as you spill your heart out, tears, snot, sweat and all, he'll just pull you to his chest and awkwardly pat your shoulders to get you calm and comforted. Not to mention, he is extremely stiff at the hug and is very unsure what words to say to you to not upset or offend you any further, so he'll just ride it out smoothly, and let you let it all out on his chest. It's not like he can't wash your tears, snot and sweat on his chest anyways. - Since he is very non-vocal, he's a good listener so rant all the way! Complain about the weather, about your lack of love life, about how underpaid the hitmen team is, anything! He won't find the perfect response, so he'll just nod along and perhaps comment occasionally on what your saying. "So like, ugh, I am soooo frustrated at how Prosciutto could say that to Pesci! He makes a good point, but it's redundant for him to be too harsh on him! Look, all I'm saying is, maybe Prosciutto should start choosing his words correctly so that Pesci won't feel too upset! You know???" You glanced at your friend, as he simply sat attentively beside you. He nods silently as a response. "Anyways—" - Extremely great at deduction and the way he reads people so easily is so unreal. And so he uses this to his advantage to know what's up with you whenever you seemed off. By this, he's able to tell whenever you're upset but scared to talk about it, frustrated but too busy to talk about, etc etc. And with this, he takes the time to drag you to take a seat, and talk about what's been bothering you. If you don't wish to talk about it at all, he'll let you be after with a reassurance that you can overcome whatever the heck you're going through. - Everyone is surprised that you two aren't married??? That you're just friends??? The way you two look just makes you two look like a couple and it boggles the others how you two aren't one.

[ohheyitsokay]

to date a single father (1/2)

Pairing: Francisco Morales (Frankie) x (f) reader 

Warnings: mentions of trauma, drugs, and violence. a little angst? mostly fluff

Wordcount: 2.8k (I haven’t even gotten to the scene that inspired this thought process, guys...)

Part 2/2!

Summary: Frankie has a little girl in kindergarten and you’re the prettiest school teacher he’s ever seen. Being a single dad makes navigating relationships hard, that’s all.

Notes: I don’t really want kids but his baby is a part of his character so I thought it would be interesting to explore. I didn’t know how to put this in the warnings but obviously this topic can be a loaded one for some people, please be kind to yourself. 

>>

You first met Frankie outside the elementary school where you worked. You taught older kids, and they got let out a few minutes earlier to get their little siblings and to spread out traffic.

Most parents were in their minivan’s, on their phones, honking, or chatting through open windows. The sun was shining, sinking into your skin, and the kids were trickling out of the school.

He caught your eye, because he was standing nearby, hovering nervously, looking a touch lost. And maybe in small part because his hair was curling out from under his hat in soft tufts and his eyes were warm and bright.

“Can I help you, sir?” You asked cautiously, eyes still dutifully scanning the pick up area, making sure the students were safe.

He looked startled, then sheepish.

“My daughter’s in kindergarten,” he said, taking off his baseball cap to rake his hair to the side before replacing it. “It’s her first day.”

Ah. That explains his mother hen mannerisms.

“She'll be out in just a moment,” you said smiling at him. You explained the staggered release and noted how the crease between his brows smoothed a little bit.

You got to see parents with their kids often, and you were no stranger to the occasional handsome dad, but when his little girl came running towards him, nothing could have prepared you. His face lit up and she jumped straight into his arms yelling happily. As he spun her around for some wild reason your heart threatened to hammer right out of your chest.

He put her down and she chattered about her first day. As they walked away, he waved at you, and you smiled weakly before tearing your eyes away.

The kindergarten teacher appeared at your side. Her arm casually shot out, causing a running kid to almost crash into it, but effectively stopping him from sprinting somewhere more dangerous. She gave him a look before turning to grin at you.

“What?” you asked, trying to play off your odd behavior the best you could. You definitely weren’t staring at the most handsome dad you’d ever seen being adorable with his daughter. And by no means had you been neglecting your supervising duties to do so. She raised an eyebrow and against your will, your face was flushed.

“I’ve never seen you like this!” she said gleefully, laughing at you.

“There’s nothing to see!” you flapped your hand at her, knowing you were lying through your teeth.

“Isn’t there?” she knew you a little better than would be best in this circumstance. “Hon, I’ve worked with you five years and I haven’t seen a single person - real or from your stories – make you so flustered.”

You shook your head and started to walk back towards the school, calling behind you, “I wasn’t!”

“Would it help to know he’s single?” she chirped after you.

And you hated yourself because you stopped dead, heart pounding, before you walked away just about as quickly as you could.

That night, Frankie hated himself a little bit too, because he couldn’t get the pretty school teacher out of his head.

-

Over the first few weeks of the fall semester, this because normal for the two of you. Frankie kept coming early, and so when your let your class out, you would go stand and talk to him, both falling in love a little bit, and you would then get teased mercilessly by the other teachers. He would go home and day dream about seeing you outside of school, holding your hand, meeting your eyes and not having to look away.

He told the boys about you and accepted their bad advice and excited teasing with stride. You also gave up trying to deny it from your closest friends and they had the best time playing matchmaker for you, even if it was horribly embarrassing.

Every couple of days, your friend would keep his daughter inside extra long to help clean up or something, so you’d have more time to talk. On top of that, the older teachers made of habit of floating by and announcing how pretty you looked or how talented you were, and mentioning you were single with broad winks.

“Our sweet girl is just such a good teacher!” one man said. “I’d love it if she would marry my son one day. If she runs a household like her classroom, I could die happy!”

You felt like you could melt into the concrete. Frankie was grinning, his eyes alight with laughter as they met yours. He tried to ignore the feelings bubbling inside of him at the thought.

The next day, an older woman was apparently feeling protective over you, approaching Frankie and him a hard stare down. He fidgeted, shooting you a panicked look before she began asking him questions rapid fire.

When she was satisfied and moved on you finally turned to him saying, “I’m so sorry about this, Mr. Morales,” and he shrugged.

“I don’t mind,” he turned away from you, eyes searching for his daughter, and you almost didn’t hear him add, “It’s worth it.”

Silently you agreed, but before you could say anything, you saw his little one incoming. Instead of her dotting father, she hugged your legs, catching you entirely off guard. Frankie made a choking sound, his heart having leapt into his throat at the sight of you with his kid. The sky was cloudy that day – but he was feeling warm inside.

You talked to her for a bit before she moved on to him and they walked off waving, leaving you standing there in confusion.

Her teacher, on cue, slid up to your side.

“She’s been talking about you in class recently.”

“What? Why?” you were panicking. Never in your life did you picture yourself hoping a tiny little girl liked you, but here you were.

Her smile was soft as she said, “She thinks you’re nice and likes very much that her daddy has a girlfriend that is pretty because she thinks that means she’s going to become a princess.”

This was overwhelming. “I’m not his girlfriend!” you wailed, “I don’t even know what I’m doing!”

She hugged you tight, and whispered that you would figure it out. She promised you were doing just fine, and despite your anxiety, you half believed her.

-

Weeks later, you still weren’t his girlfriend, but you and him were just about the only people who didn’t think so. You let out class as early as you could most days, and he was always there to greet you as soon as you stepped outside. Sometimes he would have an “extra" drink for you from a nearby coffee shop, and he always got your order right. (He did remember his daughter’s teacher's, and well as hot chocolate for the little matchmaker.) Once, it was raining and the two of your shared an umbrella.

Now, your school was getting a new vice principal, and there was a social evening planned for parents and students to come and meet him. You were jittery with nerves, the thought of seeing Frankie in a new setting putting you on edge. You’d even put on a prettier than average outfit as if it were a date, and your coworkers were beyond excited.

Streamers were hung, pitchers were filled with lemonade, and you settled in a seat along the edge, hoping beyond hope that Frankie would find you and everyone else would leave you alone.

You had no such luck. After the new vice principal had been introduced to the staff, he made his rounds, greeting everyone personally before stopping on you. You made polite small talk, but he didn’t seem the slightest bit interested in moving on, settling next to you.

He began leaning close, mentioning how many good things he’d heard about you and you realized he was flirting with you. There was a sinking feeling in your stomach. He wasn’t a bad guy, and maybe a few months ago you wouldn’t have minded so much, but now you just felt weird and uncomfortable. Politeness and politics were part of the job, but you scooted your chair away from his, unable to stop yourself.

When Frankie walked in with the other parents and students, his daughter pointed excitedly at you, tugging his hand. His eyes found you, but jealousy reared inside of him, along with a touch of hurt. There was a new man by your side, and he wasn’t being shy about his interest in you. Frankie didn’t know what do so he pulled his little one in the opposite direction, saying, “Snacks first, yeah?” knowing it would buy him some time.

He watched you out of the corner of his eye, thankful when other teachers seemed to approach the two of you to pull the man’s attention away. There was another roar of jealousy, though, as the man tapped the microphone and introduced himself. Looking at him on the small stage, in a suit and tie, Frankie felt scruffy.

He couldn’t be bothered to listen to him, his mind running. Would you prefer a guy like this? Successful and suave? Baggage free?

He followed his daughter, her attention short, as she ran to play with her friends. He hovered close to keep an eye on them, unable to shake the habit. Some other parents were talking to him, and he tried his best to be polite but he couldn’t keep his eyes away from the man, who was making his way back towards you.

It didn’t take long, however, for Frankie to see how uncomfortable you were, and a small, warm feeling bloomed in his chest in place of the jealousy. He kept the little one in his line of sight as he moved carefully through the crowds and behind the man. He caught your eye, and the warm feeling grew when your eyes widened and you visibly relaxed. Spurred on, he made a little symbol with his fingers over his chest - something Santi often did jokingly. It was an “S" shape, similar to the one Superman wore.

Do you need saving? he mouthed and you grinned, nodding slighting, so as not to betray him to your captor.

He didn’t need to hear more, butting into the conversation politely, but with determination. When the vice principal protested, Frankie confidently wrapped an arm around your shoulders and leveled his eyes at the other man. For all he was a sweetheart in a baseball cap, Francisco Morales could still gaze with the same intensity he had in the military.

The rest of your rescue went smoothly. He guided you back towards where the younger students were playing, and you were still grinning at him.

“Thanks you, Mr. Morales,” your heart was happy, you felt like you were flying. “You really are m- a hero.”

In that moment, Frankie knew he was a goner. To be your hero, and his daughter’s? That was maybe all he ever wanted.

“How can I repay you?” you asked, earnestly, the request and it’s potential making him weak in the knees.

He squeezed you gently.

“How about you call me Frankie?” he said, before taking a shaky breath. “And maybe consider going out to dinner with me tomorrow night?”

You froze, your heart beat filling your whole body. He went to pull his arm away, but your hand caught his on your shoulder, keeping it around you.

“I’d love to, Frankie,” you managed.

Frankie found himself in a similar state of speechlessness, happiness flowing off of him, unable to make his mouth stop smiling. He settled for squeezing you again, both of you glowing and too overwhelmed to notice the high fives and quiet cheers from the staff around you.

-

The next 24 hours, Frankie was a bundle of nerves and excitement. He had spent weeks adoring you, seeing how wonderful you were, sharing as much of himself as he could. Now that he finally had the opportunity to take you on a date, he was terrified of blowing it. Calling Santi was almost a waste of time, the other man was too excited and gave him advice that required flirting skills he knew he didn’t have. He wanted to put his best foot forward, after all. He even left his hat home, cursing himself because the little pink brush he tried to use only made his curls fluffier.

But when he picked you up, time slowed down.

The two of you climbing into his truck, making small talk before you said, “I’m sorry you had to get a sitter for tonight, by the way.”

And he was forced to pause, looking at you. Beautiful, in the passenger seat, somehow thinking of him and his life. His mind was running as fast as his heart, and he didn’t have the slightest clue what to do.

“Frankie? Is everything okay?” his eyes met yours, and they were so earnest you knew to wait.

Gently, you put your hand on the middle console, palm up, offering. His hand fit into yours immediately, clinging to it like a lifeline.

“I… I gotta be honest with you,” he said, in a way that made you sure each word was thought out. “I think you’re really something special. But… I’m really afraid of this. I’m afraid of how much I like you. I had this whole dinner planned … but I can’t. I have all this baggage and I like you too much. I’m not trying to scare you off but … but I guess now is better than later?” his mind vaguely realized he self sabotaged, but it was all true. He was in too deep.

You took a breath, waiting a moment to make sure it was your turn. You felt the cool upholstery, the evening sun, and a tremble in his hand.

“Frankie… I can’t promise you I’ll want to stay, once I know it. But I really like you too,” his eyes met yours and you ran your thumb over his knuckles. “Please, just give it chance? Give me a chance to make that choice? I promise I’m in this just as deep as you are and I’m not perfect either but maybe we can get burgers, and just… just talk? Figure it out together, now?”

He would have squeezed your hand but he realized he was already gripping it too tightly. You knew he agreed though, because his eyes told you, and the two of you drove off.

You ordered bunches of extra fries along with your meals, and he parked a bit outside of town, where the two of you could see the sun beginning to set.

And he told you all of it as the two of you ate. The breeze was warm, running its fingers through the fields as he talked. He hadn’t expected his secrets to pour out of him but once he started, it felt as though a dam had broken.

He told you about his missions, the Delta Force, his friends. The drugs, the rehab, the back slides. The other woman, his baby, the heart break. Even the trauma, the therapy, and being a single dad.

You listened and in turn, told him about your life. Your hardships, your secrets, as forthcoming and he was. You were honest about how scared you were at the prospect of becoming a mother figure for his daughter. About how unprepared you felt for those hurdles. And when you were done, the two of you sat in silence, looking at the rising stars. Eventually, you spoke again.

“Francisco Morales, I still really like you,” you smiled at him, shrugging a bit. “If you’re okay with it, I’d really like to try this thing, with you.”

There was nothing more wonderful than the hope in his eyes at that moment.

“Yes, please,” his voice was a bit raspy. He took a couple of slow breaths. “I have to get home soon but can I be honest with you for just a little bit longer?”

“Of course,” you said, confused.

He hopped out of the truck, jogging over to your side and helping you step down. The door closed behind you but he moved closer instead of backing up.

“I had all these plans to take this slow, do everything right,” his voice was soft, and he was gently pushing into your space, allowing you to stop him at any time. “You deserved it, and I wanted to show you I could do it. But,” his hands found your body, one of them tugging your hips into his and the other settling on the back of your neck, half in your hair. “But I’d really like to skip some steps,” his forehead was on yours, gaze steady, his voice deep and warm.

“Can we skip to the part where I can kiss you? The part where I can tell you how much you mean to me, and hold you?”

You aren’t sure if you managed to say yes before his mouth was pressing against yours, kissing you for all he was worth.