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chaotic-mystery · 4 months ago

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PROFESSOR’S PET

Pairing: Art Professor!Joel AU x Teacher Assistant!f!reader.

Summary: Professor Miller wants you to teach the class tomorrow morning & you need help being less nervous. What if he’s the reason you’re nervous, though?

Content Warnings: SMUT 18+ only! MDNI. Age gap but not specified, power imbalance (professor x TA, reader stutters when nervous, academic weapon, teasing, fingering, one (1) pair of panties ripped to shreds, oral (f receiving), spitting, pussy slaps, praise kink, name calling (good girl, sweetheart, baby, smart girl), dirty talk, talking you through it, spanking, condescending a little bit, cum eating, face riding, nasty freaky kisses to share your cum, no use of y/n.

Authors Note: Good morning, babies! This is for @studioghibelli & their fantastic writing challenge. This moodboard was absolutely brilliant. As someone who did not go to college & can’t retain information well, I tried to research as much as I could about art so I hope I did it justice! 🩵 || wc: 2.6k || beta’d by @wannab-urs <333 ily sm gin ||

“You want me to do what?”

It came out more as an exclamation rather than a question but you didn’t care at the moment.

He couldn’t have been serious.

“I want you to teach the class tomorrow about your two favorite artists. That’s all I’m askin’” Professor Miller says, stuffing his papers back into the desk drawer for the night.

“B-but you know I don’t talk well in front of them, I constantly stutter and they don’t respond well to me yet, I-”

“Do you need me to help you with the lesson plan for tomorrow? I can come over and help you write down some notes on what you want to talk about, but I need you to get more comfortable around them. We have a long school year ahead of us, and it’s not going to work if you’re afraid to speak up here.”

He was annoyed having to explain his reasoning, but he was right. Even if you didn’t want to hear you were doing a terrible job as a teacher's assistant. Scratching your head and turning so he can’t see the look of shame on your face, Joel shuffles towards you and hands you your coat off the coat rack.

“It’ll be fine. All you need is a push and you’ll do great. Hurry before we miss the train.”

You nod and take your coat to put it on, the tan fabric becoming darker as you step outside and rain starts to pelt off it. Mr. Miller sighs and hoists his briefcase above his head and takes his other hand to the side of him searching for yours until he finds it and grabs it, guiding you through the raindrops until you get under the stone archway to take a brief moment for the rain to calm down.

“Can’t believe I’ve had you as a TA for almost two years now and have never once seen where you live or even know about you outside of this place.” His finger wags slowly behind his head, indicating he was referring to the school.

“I don’t really like to talk about myself, but my parents made a really good name for themselves. I was put through all the good schools they could toss their money at. I was supposed to go to school to be a lawyer, but I wasn’t interested in the slightest. I told my mom I wanted to study visual arts and she wasn’t too surprised, said I always had an eye for that sort of thing. I want to become a professor here one day but for now I just want to learn everything I can, ya know?” You smile at the ground as you think about teaching here someday and hope it doesn’t come off as dorky.

He’s so much older than you and probably knows so much between art and life. You could only hope to have as much knowledge as him when you become a professor.

“I think that’s amazing honestly. I hope to one day see you as a professor here whenever you feel like you’re ready.”

His grin eases your nerves, and you hear the train coming, taking his hand once more to run to the train stop. Your shoes squeak against the vinyl flooring of the moving cabin until you get to a seat by the foggy window, plopping your bag right next to you with Joel sitting across the small white table that was tattered from all the use.

The train ride to your town wasn’t too long and Joel read almost the entire time, asking you every now and then if you were okay. Once you catch a taxi to take you home, it drops you off right at the black iron gates. He steps out of the sleek black car and is a little taken aback by the size of your house.

“What’s the matter? I told you they had money.” You giggle and push the buzzer on the stone post to the left of you, telling them to let you inside. Almost instantly, the gates push open and you walk along the pebble drive, flinging your book bag over your shoulder as he follows a few steps behind you, taking in the beauty that is your house.

Once you get inside and introduce him to the small group of staff working, they tell you your parents went out for the evening to some charity event and there’s food in the fridge if you were hungry.

The nerves about teaching tomorrow overrode the feeling of being hungry, but you still offered Joel anything he could’ve wanted. He settles with water, and you leave him in the study where he’s content with gazing at the walls covered in full bookshelves about any and everything.

You come back in and shut the rosewood pocket doors quietly, careful not to disturb him from the current book in his hand about astronomy. The way his fingers grazed over the corners of the pages made your stomach tingle just a little bit, the dim lighting from the chandelier glowing a soft yellow on his face as he was entranced by the contents.

Get it together, he’s off limits, you tell yourself.

There was no ring on his finger and he always talked about his lonely weekends, but still. You were his teacher's assistant.

You clear your throat and set his water down on the desk before you turn on the green bankers lamp sitting at the edge of the table. Joel closes the red leather book and looks up at you, noticing the water, and he puts the book back where he found it.

“Thank you.” He raises the glass to you before taking a sip, the muscles in his neck contracting as he swallows, and it brings that same feeling as before that you felt in your stomach.

So, give me two of your favorite art pieces and the artist with some facts about them. You don’t have to start from their birth or anything.”

He pinches his slacks right on the thighs to hike them up just a little before he sits down in the wooden chair at the head of the table, his hands on the back of his head as his fingers interlock against his skull.

Focus.

You pace back and forth at the other end of the table, Joel’s eyes on you intently as you fiddle with your fingers, running through the list of artists you tend to gravitate towards.

“I got it. Botticelli.”

“Nice choice. Why him?”

You continue to walk back and forth and sort out which facts about him and his artwork you love to tell people they wouldn’t normally know.

“I love the painting Birth of Venus but um- it’s not technically her birth story, it’s m-more like the story continued after her birth; when she steps off her shell and onto the island of Cyprus. S-she’s being blown onto…” you take a deep breath in and put your head in your hands.

“I’m sorry, Joel.”

You turn away from him and look out the window trying to compose yourself.

“Just take your time, I’ve got all night, kid.”

Turning to face him, he’s sitting straight up now and you can tell he’s listening to every word coming out of your mouth. His dark jacket is tight on his arms and it’s just enough to show the outline of his muscles.

“She’s being blown onto shore by the spring winds which is Zephyr, who is accompanied by his wife, Chloris, who’s also blowing Venus’ shell to shore. Her pose was most likely inspired by an ancient marble statue in the Medici’s collection, which we refer to as the Medici Venus, the first ever nude female sculpture in classical art.”

You manage to recite all of that without stuttering this time and he grins proudly.

“I knew you could do it. Good job. Now, what I want you to do is write down bullet points on this note card with a keyword that’ll spark your mind and draw the facts out of you fluently.”

Your cheeks warm at first and then your brows furrow at his instructions.

“What do you mean, professor?”

“Come here, I’ll show you.”

He scoots his chair back enough so you can stand to the side of him and watch as he scribbles down some words on the lined piece of paper. The red ink flows effortlessly and he pushes it to you, pointing at what he did.

“It’s just a keyword that’ll spark your brain to talk about it. If you write down everything you’re gonna say, it sounds like a robot trying to read it. This way, you won’t get overwhelmed by everything you wanna say and you can sound effortless.”

You nod as the gears in your head turn, the idea making perfect sense now. Reaching out to grab another note card, you bend over to write on it, starting at the top. You feel Joel’s hand on the small of your back very lightly as he watches you write, the pen in your hand moving faster than he’s ever seen.

“The next one is gonna be the technique he used for the painting.”

You write the word ‘technique’ shakily, trying to breathe manually.

“What about his technique?” Joel asks, his hand not moving from your back.

“H-he um, he used the tempera technique, it’s when you d-dilute a raw egg with water and mix watered down p-pigment with it and um-um paint with it.” Your words get breathy and all at once you stand straight up, clearing your throat once more.

“You’re still pretty nervous. Is it me? Am I making you nervous?” The condescending tone in Professor Miller's voice makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up, feeling like you’ve been called out.

“Partially, maybe.” You admit and turn away from him but you don’t move from next to him.

He runs his hand over his scruff and smirks slyly.

“Do you trust me?”

Without hesitation you nod yes.

“Turn around for me.” Joel’s hands grip your hips and spin you around in your spot.

“Now read your little note card for me. Come on, you’ve got this, smart girl.”

That was all you had to hear to make your stomach flip and arousal flood your body. Smart girl.

His hands never leave your hips as he holds you still, subconsciously rubbing the fabric of your skirt on the waistband while you read your notes. You manage to get through half of them before you stutter out and stop again.

“Again, from the top.” He says softly, still holding onto you. Just as you begin to speak, you feel yourself being guided backwards and you don’t stop talking, going with the flow of things.

For the purpose of learning, right?

Joel puts you right against his thighs, his head peeking over the side of your arm to see what bullet point you were on.

“Keep going, you’re doing such a good job.” He whispers as he rubs your back gently.

“Botticelli used the tempera technique, which is when you mix a r-raw egg with water a-and you dilute yo-our pigment with water and mix th-em together.”

His hand ever so slowly moves around the side of your thigh until he’s on the top of it, his thumb dangerously close to the point of no return. Your breaths were getting heavier and you were almost positive he could feel your heart rattling in your body like a caged animal.

“Joel, I-”

“Start it again, and if you stutter I’ll stop.”

His hand dips under your skirt and he nods to your index card, wanting you to restart.

“Well come on, be a good girl for me.” He grunts out and smirks before biting your arm playfully.

You didn’t know how you got here or why he wanted to touch you this way but you weren’t going to stop him. He was a good looking man and god forbid you do something out of your normal routine.

His fingertips dance over your overly excited clit and release some tension for you, and it’s like a key to a gate, your legs spreading more and more with every circle from his middle finger. You continue to talk through his efforts to make you stutter, even when he gets faster and kisses your back.

“Just like that, sweetheart. Next artist, let’s go.” He pushes you up on the desk and splits your legs apart, ripping your panties in two before he takes off his jacket and rolls his shirt sleeves up to his elbows.

“The Swing painted by Jean-Honore Fragonard. It’s said it’s a commission from a man on the court who requested Fragonard to paint him and his younger mistress being pushed on a swing while he watches and admires her-oh my god, Joel, right there, yes, yes.”

His tongue dances against your clit after he spits on it, licking every inch of you just to hear your pretty moans. His hands travel up your abdomen until he gets to your shirt, ripping the buttons apart to see your beautiful breasts. A deep groan against your overly sensitive clit makes your eyes almost roll back into your skull and he slaps your pussy firmly.

“That’s not being a good girl. Did I tell you to stop?”

“No, sir.” You whimper and try to get back on track about the painting you were talking about. His curls tickle against the soft insides of your thighs as he continues, licking feverishly at your clit.

“The brushwork is rapid and it exemplifies the Rococo style of playfulness and elegance” you whimper out and buck against his face, your hand dipping into his hair to tug firmly.

He spanks your ass as he feels your body squirm under him, tugging your legs to rest on his shoulders as he continues to lap up your arousal.

“You’re such a filthy girl, riding your professor's face in your house, naughty naughty girl. Oh, yes, cmon sweetheart, use my mouth.”

You moan his name louder and thank god your sounds are muffled from the rest of the house by all the literature covering the walls. Somehow you finish telling him about the painting and he looks at you as you cry out for more from him, your slick glossing over his mustache.

“Please make me come, Joel. Please, I need you so bad.” You kiss him roughly and try to grab his rock hard bulge but he pulls his hips away and groans loudly on your lips before grinning, going back down to your pussy and moaning against you.

“Come right on my face, right fuckin’ now. Let me taste how sweet you are. I know you can’t handle much more and you don’t wanna disappoint me, right baby?” Joel smirks and flattens his tongue against your clit once more, teasing you and enjoying this just as much as you were.

The burning sensation in your belly starts to spill over and before you can tell him, you grip both edges of the table and come against his face, crying and squirming to get away from him but it only makes Joel pin you down by your wrists and lick harder, tasting every bit you give him.

He licks you clean and kisses his way up your stomach, through the valley of your breasts to your lips, sharing the deliciousness with you. As you come down from your high, the grandfather clock in the corner of the room starts to chime, indicating it was midnight.

“That 7:30 A.M. class is gonna be here before you know it, professor.” You push the damp curls off his forehead and giggle as he stands up tiredly, holding a hand out for you. As you sit up on the table, his hand cups your cheek and kisses you deeply once more.

“You owe me sleep, so much sleep.”

#studioghibelliswritingchallenge #joel miller tlou #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #joel miller au #professor Joel miller #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x you #the last of us #pedro pascal joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader

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vxnuslogy · 3 months ago

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— will they, won’t they.

pairing: hoshina soshiro x gn!reader

premise: hoshina soshiro has been hopelessly in love with you for years now. and for the first time, you finally hear him say the words "i love you."

— warnings: down bad + jealous hoshina, modern setting, reader is a kyudo player.

— author's note: little miss says she's going on a break then proceeds to write about hoshina soshiro for all the dying fans (its me, i'm the dying fans.) art credits to @.BByo_chick on twitter.| ~700 words.

“how long are ya gonna keep me here?”

“no one is forcing you to.”

hoshina only clicks his tongue and stares at the dojo walls. his finger impatiently tapping at his chin as he hits crossed leg on the floors. it’s half past 5 in the afternoon now and you have no intentions of going home anytime soon.

“i’m gettin’ bored here,” he drawls, hands stretching over his head as he watches you shoot another arrow with pin-point accuracy that makes his smirk twitch uncomfortably. you’ve gotten too good at kyudo, and it shows.

“then go home,” you reply as you pull the bow back and aim for your next shot. “you don’t have to keep waiting for me to finish.”

but that was the thing: hoshina wanted to wait for you and he always will.

he wants everyone to know that you had him and he’s all you’ll ever need. there was no need for that guy who caught your fall a few days ago—not when he’s been catching you for the past 3 years. he was your guide in the train station every morning, so why do you keep trying to go to the station earlier and ask your junior for directions? hoshina soshiro was always by your side, so why couldn’t you see that?

“i’ll wait,” he murmurs into his hand, eyes looking at anything but at you. “got nothin’ to do at home anyways.”

it was a weak excuse, but it always does the trick. you always relent and let him stay but not without throwing a look over your shoulder that screams “you’re acting strange.” because he was. hoshina, against his will, feels his lips being tugged into a frown whenever you interact with anyone that isn’t him.

that sounds very bad–it is bad in a sense–but hoshina would never dream of taking away your freedom. so he just watches, painfully by the sidelines, with a scoff on his face as another student from a rival school stammers to ask for your number. it was irritating, having to watch everyone throw themselves at you when you’re clearly uninterested.

“what the hell will happen if i’m not by yer side, captain.” hoshina jests as you pack up your stuff and lock the dojo.

“is this about earlier?” you ask with an amused lilt to your voice. “when the new student asked for my number?”

hoshina hated how you always aimed for the heart.

“i have no idea what yer talkin’ about,” he weakly tries to change the topic. hoshina racks his brain to think of something—anything—to help change the conversation, but his mind keeps circling back to you. how you almost looked serious when some guy–who was leagues below you by the way��had the gall to ask you out for a date.

“never took you for the jealous type.” you tease.

“it’s because ‘m not.” he said through gritted teeth, hands balling into small fists against his school bag. “‘m lookin’ out for ya, alright? that guy was a creep. i’m keepin’ yer ass safe from weirdos.”

you looked unconvinced but didn’t comment on his unusual aggressiveness. hoshina let out a frustrated sigh, a hand coming to ruffle your hair and pull just a tiny bit closer that would make everyone question your relationship. this was driving him crazy but he couldn’t do anything about it.

“‘m not jealous. get that over yer pretty little head.”

and until you both got on the train and went your separate ways to go home, hoshina soshiro never once let your hand drop to your side. he kept you impossibly close to his side and whispered sweet good lucks into your ear. body so comfortably lax in your presence he was slouching on the train seat so he could bury his nose in your hair.

hoshina soshiro was so unfathomably in love with you.

how could he not love you when you use your own heartbeat to calm his erratic one during every competition? when every hug has his mind spinning with gold and you. every victory is dedicated to your name, and no trophy or medal could ever compare to the feeling of running into your arms and drowning in your praise.

“i love you.” he mutters as you sleep peacefully on his shoulder on your way home. how many years has he been saying it before he lost count? it’s truly just a matter of when you’ll wake up and finally realize it yourself.

he feels the blood rush to his brain as he throws himself on his bed, unable to wipe the image of you smiling as if you had heard him.

#soshiro hoshina x reader #hoshina soshiro x reader #soshiro hoshina #kaiju no. 8 #kaiju no 8 x reader #first kn8 fic kinda nervous #( 🂡 ) – royal flush of stories .ᐟ

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eddiethebrave · 3 months ago

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secret admirer part seventeen

688 words

one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven twelve thirteen fourteen fifteen sixteen

Eddie wouldn’t go as far as to say that he needs the stupid notes to want to go to school.

But.

He does kind of miss them.

They were the highlights of those eight days before he knew where they were coming from. It gave him something to look forward to. Aside from Hellfire - which only officially meets once a week on Friday - there’s not much for him at school.

Admittedly, Eddie has read the notes a couple of times since they’ve stopped appearing. Right now is one of those times - he needs a boost to actually make it to class instead of walking right out the front door to his van and getting out of this hellhole.

When the notes stopped, Eddie was confused. Like, sure, he hadn’t been all that subtle in showing that he knows who H is, but it’s not like Tommy’s made it known that he knows that Eddie knows - besides not leaving notes anymore.

After lunch, he’s standing with his head practically shoved in his locker as he flips through them. As he’s carefully reading through the one he received on his birthday, it hits him.

The ring. The fucking ring.

It says it right there.

if you want me to stop just don’t wear the ring and i’ll back off

How could he be so dense? Eddie rummages through the war-zone that is his locker. Honestly, it takes far longer than it should for him to emerge with the piece of jewelry.

He isn’t sure if he wants the notes to continue. Well, he does, but he doesn’t want to lead Hagan on, no matter how much of an asshole he is. He kind of wishes he never found out about it. Curse Gareth for being considerate enough to let him know that known asshole Tommy Hagan slipped something in his locker.

Eddie keeps the ring safely in his pocket while he’s anywhere that the boy could possibly catch sight of the thing (the halls, lunchroom, bathroom, etc.). In class, though, he can’t help but take it out.

It really is beautiful - something he would’ve gotten for himself if saw it and had the money.

In art, Buckley moves from the back of the room to their table. She’s partnered with Carol for the project, but the change in seating still catches Eddie as strange - they’re not even working on the portraits today, but whatever.

Speaking of project partners, Steve’s been shifting in his heat quite a lot for the last couple of minutes. Eddie tries to ignore it, he does - God knows he’s never sitting still - but it really is hard to focus.

Eddie turns him. “You good, man?” he whispers, not wanting to interrupt whatever the teacher is saying. Steve jumps in his seat and Eddie flinches back in surprise. “Woah, easy.”

Steve doesn’t make eye contact, which is odd because usually he’s really…insistent on it. His gaze is instead focused somewhere on the table. “I’m- I’m okay, Munson,” he says, barely audible.

Eddie scrutinizes him a moment longer before shrugging it off. If he wants to keep it to himself then Eddie is in no position to question him.

The last thing he ever expected - aside from receiving freaking love notes from Tommy Hagen of all people - was being (even somewhat) on friendly terms with Steve Harrington. He isn’t what Eddie had expected at all, though.

Eddie’s always preferred him to his best friend, but that’s not really saying much. Eddie actually likes Steve. Almost too much.

No, it’s definitely too much.

The guy would never be as sweet to him - because that’s what he is, sweet - if he knew the thoughts running through Eddie’s head whenever he is around.

Like, Eddie didn’t die or anything when Steve confiscated his pencil and gave him the holy grail but it was a near thing.

When the bell sounds through the room, Eddie slips the ring back in his pocket and leaves.

At the end of the next period, he tries not to overthink it as he puts the ring on and keeps it there for the rest of the day.

eighteen

tag list (closed)

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@resident-gay-bitch @anaibis @moomkin77 @thrashbatx @salchica

@flustratedcas @ajeff855 @nerdyglassescheeseychick @pearynice @imaginary-maggie-waggie

sorry if i missed anyone!!

#eddie munson #steve harrington #pre steddie #stranger things #steddie

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reidmarieprentiss · 4 months ago

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Ink Impressions

Summary: Y/N is a hot new tattoo artist that Derek and Emily want to see more of...

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: tattoos

Word count: 2.1k

main masterlist

Derek Morgan found himself walking through a part of town he didn't visit often. His steps slowed as he passed a new shop front: Ink Impressions. The sign was sleek, with an artistic flair that caught his eye. It was new, and he’d heard a few people at the gym talk about how talented the artist was. Curious, and with a rare free afternoon on his hands, Derek decided to check it out.

The interior was a mix of industrial chic and cozy comfort. Dark wooden floors complemented exposed brick walls adorned with framed tattoo designs ranging from intricate mandalas to minimalist line art. The hum of tattoo machines filled the air, mingling with the scent of antiseptic and the quiet murmur of clients and artists in conversation.

Derek approached the front desk, where a young man with a friendly smile greeted him. "Hey, welcome to Ink Impressions. How can we help you today?"

"I'm thinking about getting a tattoo," Derek replied, his voice carrying its usual confidence. "Do you guys take drop ins?"

The young man nodded, gesturing towards the back of the shop. "You’re in luck. Our lead artist is available. Her name’s Y/N. She’s amazing. I’ll take you to her."

Derek followed, feeling a mix of excitement and anticipation. They rounded a corner, and there she was. Y/N was seated at her station, her focus intense as she worked on a client's arm. She was striking, with vibrant hair that fell around her face in waves, a few tattoos peeking out from under her sleeves. She exuded an air of confidence and artistic passion that immediately drew Derek in.

The young man cleared his throat softly. "Y/N, this is Derek. He’s stopped by for a drop in. Do you think you can fit him in before your next appointment?”

Y/N looked up, her eyes meeting Derek’s with a warmth that made his heart skip a beat. She smiled, setting down her tools and removing her gloves. "Hi, Derek. It’s nice to meet you. I’d love to help you with that. Do you have any specific ideas, or would you like me to create something unique for you?"

Derek felt his usual charm waver slightly under her gaze, but he recovered quickly. "I have some ideas, but I’d love to see your take on it."

After Y/N finished with her initial client, she sat down with Derek and discussed the concept, and Y/N sketched a design that captured the essence of strength and resilience, elements that resonated deeply with Derek. Her talent was evident in every stroke, and he was impressed not only by her skill but also by the way she listened and understood the emotions behind his request.

As she prepared her station, Derek glanced around the shop, trying to mask his growing interest in her. "So, how long have you been tattooing?"

Y/N smiled, her eyes sparkling with pride. "About seven years now. I started apprenticing right out of high school and never looked back. I opened this shop a few months ago."

"That’s impressive," Derek replied, genuinely admiring her dedication.

Y/N began the tattoo, her touch gentle yet precise. "What about you? What do you do?"

"I’m an FBI agent," Derek said, watching her work. "Behavioral Analysis Unit."

Y/N looked up, a hint of intrigue in her eyes. "Wow, that sounds intense. Do you solve a lot of mysteries?"

Internally, Y/N couldn't help but laugh. She knew exactly who Derek Morgan was. Spencer had talked about him often enough—his partner at the BAU, a close friend. She could almost hear Spencer’s voice, recounting their cases, his admiration for Derek's skills and strength.

So this is the famous Derek Morgan, she thought, amused. Small world. But she kept her face neutral, professional. She didn’t want to mix business with pleasure. The last thing she needed was for Derek to know she was dating his colleague. It would complicate things, and she prided herself on maintaining a clear boundary between her personal and professional life.

"Yeah, it can be," Derek replied, oblivious to her internal amusement. "It’s challenging, but I love it."

As the session went on, Derek found himself captivated not only by Y/N’s talent but by her presence. She was easy to talk to, and he enjoyed the way she seemed genuinely interested in his stories. There was an effortless connection, a spark that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

When she finished, Derek looked at the tattoo in the mirror, his heart swelling with emotion. "It’s perfect," he said, his voice thick with gratitude. "Thank you."

Y/N smiled, her expression warm and sincere. "I’m glad you like it, Derek. It was an honor to create this for you."

As he paid and prepared to leave, Derek couldn’t help but linger. "Maybe I’ll be back for another one," he said, his tone slightly teasing.

Y/N’s smile widened, and there was a twinkle in her eye. "I’d like that. You know where to find me."

As Derek walked out of Ink Impressions, the cool air hitting his face, he couldn’t stop thinking about Y/N. He knew he’d be back—not just for another tattoo, but to see her again.

—

The bullpen was bustling with the usual Monday morning activity as the team settled back into their routines. Derek Morgan entered with a confident swagger, a fresh energy emanating from him. As he passed by desks, he couldn't resist pulling up his sleeve to show off his new tattoo. It was an intricate design, beautifully done, and it immediately drew attention.

Emily Prentiss, seated at her desk, caught sight of the tattoo and her eyes widened in admiration. "Wow, Morgan! That’s incredible. When did you get that done?"

Derek grinned, obviously pleased with her reaction. "Got it on Saturday. There’s this new shop called Ink Impressions. The artist is amazing. She really knows her stuff."

Emily stood and walked over, examining the tattoo more closely. "The detail is fantastic. Who's the artist?"

Derek leaned back in his chair, a playful smile on his face. "Her name’s Y/N. She’s not just talented—she’s also incredibly sexy."

Emily raised an eyebrow, a smirk forming on her lips. "Sexy and talented, huh? Sounds like you had quite the experience."

Derek chuckled. "You could say that. She’s got this way about her—confident, passionate about her work. You should definitely check her out if you're thinking about getting some ink."

Emily's interest was piqued. "I’ve been considering a tattoo for a while now. Maybe it’s time to finally go for it."

Derek nodded enthusiastically. "You won't regret it, Prentiss. Y/N’s the real deal. Plus, the shop's vibe is great—professional but with a cool, laid-back atmosphere."

Emily looked thoughtful, already envisioning what design she might want. "Alright, I’m sold. I’ll swing by Ink Impressions this week and see if she has any openings."

As they chatted, Penelope Garcia sauntered over, having overheard part of their conversation. "What’s this about a sexy tattoo artist?" she asked, waggling her eyebrows.

Derek laughed. "Garcia, I think you’d love her. She’s got this artistic flair that’s right up your alley."

Garcia clapped her hands together. "Well, now I have to see this for myself. Maybe I’ll get something small to start with."

Emily grinned. "Looks like Y/N might have a few new clients this week."

As they shared a laugh, the phone rang, signaling the start of another case. The team quickly shifted gears, but there was a newfound buzz of excitement. Derek's tattoo had not only impressed his colleagues but also sparked a sense of camaraderie and curiosity.

Throughout the day, Derek couldn't help but think about Y/N and the connection they’d shared. He was eager to see her again, not just for her talent but for the undeniable chemistry between them. Little did he know, Emily and Garcia’s upcoming visits to Ink Impressions would bring them all a step closer to intertwining personal and professional lives in ways they hadn't anticipated.

—

Emily Prentiss walked into the shop, greeted by the familiar hum of tattoo machines. She was greeted warmly by the receptionist and soon found herself in front of Y/N, who looked up with a welcoming smile.

"Hi there! What can I do for you today?" Y/N asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Emily smiled, feeling instantly at ease. "Hi, I’m Emily. A friend of mine, Derek Morgan, got a tattoo here recently. I was so impressed that I decided to get one myself."

Recognition flashed in Y/N's eyes, and she chuckled inwardly, remembering the charismatic agent. "Ah, Derek! He’s a great guy. What are you thinking of getting?"

As Emily described her idea, Y/N listened intently, her mind already envisioning the design. Despite knowing Derek and his world, she kept her focus on her craft, maintaining the professional boundary she valued. But as she worked on Emily's tattoo, she couldn't help but feel a growing connection to these agents, wondering how long she could keep her secret before the lines between business and pleasure inevitably blurred.

—

The BAU team had decided to unwind after a long week, gathering at their favorite local bar. The place was lively, filled with the hum of conversation, clinking glasses, and the distant sound of live music. Spencer Reid had just returned from visiting his mother in Las Vegas, and he was grateful for the chance to catch up with his colleagues in a more relaxed setting.

As the team settled into their booth, drinks in hand, Emily Prentiss and Derek Morgan were excitedly discussing their recent tattoos. Emily pulled up her sleeve to show off the intricate design on her forearm, while Derek proudly displayed the tattoo on his bicep.

"You guys have to see this," Emily said, her eyes shining. "Y/N is incredible. Her artistry is on another level."

Derek nodded enthusiastically. "And she's not just talented—she’s smoking hot. I’m telling you, she’s got this whole vibe that’s hard to resist."

Emily laughed. "We were just saying, it’s almost a competition to see who’s going to ask her out first."

They both looked at each other, playfully competitive. "You think you can beat me, Prentiss?" Derek teased.

"Oh, I know I can," Emily shot back, a mischievous grin on her face.

Spencer, sitting quietly beside them, listened to their banter with a growing sense of unease. His fingers tightened around his glass as he processed their words. The name Y/N echoed in his mind. He knew exactly who they were talking about. His girlfriend, Y/N, was the talented artist they were raving about.

Trying to maintain his composure, Spencer asked, "What shop did you guys go to?"

Emily turned to him, still smiling. "It’s called Ink Impressions. It’s a new place, but it's already getting a lot of buzz."

Spencer bit his lip, a mix of emotions swirling within him. He felt a pang of jealousy but also pride knowing how highly they thought of Y/N. He took a deep breath, reminding himself to stay calm.

Just then, the bar door swung open, and Spencer’s heart skipped a beat. Y/N walked in, looking around until her eyes landed on him. She smiled warmly and started making her way over to their table.

Emily and Derek continued their playful debate, oblivious to Spencer’s internal turmoil. "I don’t know, Derek. I think I’ve got the upper hand. I mean, she seemed pretty interested when I was there," Emily said, winking.

Derek laughed. "We’ll see about that, Prentiss. I’m not backing down from this challenge."

Spencer couldn't hold it in any longer. He set his drink down and cleared his throat, catching their attention. "You might want to rethink that competition."

Emily and Derek looked at him, confused. "What do you mean?" Derek asked.

Before Spencer could answer, Y/N reached the table, her presence commanding their attention. She placed a gentle hand on Spencer’s shoulder, leaning down to kiss his cheek. "Hey, baby."

Spencer's face lit up with a smile, and he looked up at her with obvious affection. "Hey, beautiful. I’m glad you made it."

Emily and Derek’s jaws dropped simultaneously. "Wait, you two know each other?" Emily asked, incredulous.

Spencer nodded, a hint of smugness in his voice. "Yeah, you could say that."

Y/N grinned, sliding into the booth next to Spencer. "I guess the secret’s out," she said, laughing softly. “Spence here is my boyfriend.” Y/N gazed at him lovingly.

Derek shook his head in disbelief, but there was a playful glint in his eye. "Well, Reid, you’ve been holding out on us. I guess that means you win by default."

Emily chuckled, raising her glass. "To Spencer and Y/N. I guess we don’t need that competition after all."

The team raised their glasses, toasting to the unexpected revelation. As they settled back into their conversation, Spencer felt a sense of relief and happiness. He had nothing to hide anymore, and the night seemed even brighter with Y/N by his side.

#spencer reid fanfiction #doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #bau family #bau team #criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #derek morgan #emily prentiss #penelope garcia #fluff #criminal minds fluff

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alexiroflife · 4 months ago

Text

"five more minutes?"

part 2.

college au, grungy!choso, fluffff, beginnings of mutual pining

choso kamo x writing tutor!reader

Synopsis: your last tutoring session of the day catches you off guard when the hottest guy you've ever seen in your life walks into the writing center

to sum it up: you and choso didn't expect to enjoy each other's company so much and your giddy awkwardness shows it

WC: 3,700

Warning(s): none, just you and choso being cute as hell

-> guys i am speechless thank you so much for +2,000 followers y'all are amazing i love you so much

You, in truth, never wanted to be a writing tutor.

Your English professor had recommended you to do so, seeing that you had a tendency to excel in your creative and academic writing courses. Your major in english and the years prior you spent scribbling away the fantasies of your mind in middle and high school certainly were to commend for you exceptional writing skills now, but you find that any time you’re actually forced to put pen to paper instead of doing so on your own will dulls the experience entirely.

You can’t necessarily complain too much because you are getting paid (certainly not enough as a junior in university), but you don’t exactly enjoy the tediousness of having to sit down with freshmen who are crawling their way through their introductory writing courses, fighting to keep their engagement as they try to rush you through your hour and a half appointment- despite how badly they need it.

Writing is an art, and should be treated as such, but god, the way the intro courses are treating it and how the students treat it accordingly truly hurts your soul. Especially because they’re required classes, and people never fare well in classes they’re forced to take. You have first hand experience with that.

You’re almost done for the day when you double check your schedule to see that you have one more slot filled before you can call it a day.

Sighing, you lean back in your desk chair and click on the profile of the boy you’re meant to be meeting with. Apparently he’s in a grade above you working on a seminar. You raise your brow, curiosity striking you. You don’t typically find many upperclassmen coming to your services since they normally already have the writing training that they need and have been crafting enough essays to get the hang of things, or are simply too lazy to be bothered with visiting the writing center.

You don’t have much time to ponder it before there’s a knock on your office door frame, signifying the arrival of the person you are to be mentoring. You look up, and the breath almost flies from your lungs when you see a tall brunette clad in heavy, dark cargo pants, a tattered band tee, and a puffy jacket. His heavily lined, violet eyes meet yours tiredly, though after a few moments, a sprinkle of light flickers its way into his irises upon registering the sight of you.

“I’m… uh, here for my 3:30?” his remarkably deep voice mumbles out as he stares at you pensively, ringed fingers clutching the strap of his beaten satchel book bag. “You’re (Y/n)?”

You blink. “Oh, y-yeah. Sorry,” you clear your throat, hastily throwing on a friendly smile. “Come in. You can take a seat right here.”

You gesture to the chair before you at your desk, and he approaches, slinging his bag from his shoulder to the floor and seating himself in the cushioned seat.

You scroll through your computer mindlessly to relocate his profile and exactly what he is here for, but you can’t deny the fact that your mind is immensely distracted by the presence of the man sitting in front of you. You can feel his pretty eyes wandering over the room, bouncing over you then to his lap. You clench your jaw to prevent yourself from practically screaming, for this kid is insanely attractive in a grungy, silent loner kind of way, and you’re unsure of how you’ll even be able to focus throughout the session.

“It’s Choso, right?” you ask, turning from your monitor to meet his diamond eyes.

He nods, pressing his lips together. “Yeah.”

“Okay, cool. Nice to meet you. Why don’t you walk me a bit through what you need help with?”

He releases a heavy sigh, scratching the back of his head and averting his gaze. “I don’t know, my senior sem professor said I needed to work on my paragraph structure for the essay part of the project,” he explains almost disinterestedly. “I don’t really know what she means, so I figured I’d just come here.”

“Okay,” you nod. “Do you have a draft that you can show me?”

Choso reluctantly nods once more, leaning over to collect his bag and pull out a thin stack of papers. He gathers them in his hands and as if embarrassed, slides them across the wood table toward you. You take it from him and briefly skim over the words, the title catching your eye.

“You’re a bio major?” you ask, interest piqued.

“…Um, yeah. I’m writing about blood coagulation… it’s kinda boring stuff I guess.”

“No way, I think that’s sick,” you say casually, flipping through the other pages. “I could never begin to understand that stuff.”

You miss the way Choso’s gaze lingers on your face in momentary, subtle surprise. Your eyes fly up from the page to him again, and he immediately looks away.

You place the papers back down. “I can kinda see what your professor means just by first glance,” you tell him, reaching over to grab a red pen from your pencil holder.

“That fast?” Choso asks, raising a brow.

You chuckle slightly. “I mean, I didn’t get to see everything obviously. I was just browsing, but I do this a lot. I notice you tend to jump from one thing to another without a solid transition.”

“Oh.”

“That’s okay, though. And was it just paragraph structure…? Was there anything else you specifically wanted to look at?”

He shrugs stiffly. “I don’t really know,” he admits. “I’m… less of a writer and more of a researcher. I don’t really- I’m not too good with this kind of stuff in general. I just do the work.”

“That’s no problem. You’ve got the important parts down,” you assure him. “Here, why don’t we move to the center next door? It’ll be easier for me to help you with your paper when I’m next to you instead of sitting across.”

“Sure.”

You believe that you have sabotaged yourself in suggesting so, though moving to a less cramped room is something you always do with your clients. Even so, the second you and Choso seat yourselves beside each other at a rounded table in the next room, with another appointment taking place across the room and rather distant from you, his scent of woody cologne consumes your senses the moment his breeze blows past you with his settlement into his chair.

Your eyes go slightly wide, his arm inches away from brushing yours when he throws his bag over the back of the chair. While he pulls out his computer and gets his papers and notes situated, you sneak a glance at him out of the corner of your eye.

He beholds the facial structure of a model, a rather bored, tired energy capturing his eyes but emphasizing his beauty nonetheless. His hair, you think, is styled uniquely into two ponytails, but it somehow complements his aura perfectly. Tendrils of chocolate brown sweep over his forehead and behind his ear, and that is when you catch a peak of a tattoo creeping up his neck from behind his jacket collar.

This guy is too gorgeous for his own good. Part of you doesn’t believe that he is aware of his beauty himself, for he carries himself as though he wishes not to be seen, or more accurately, hardly pays any attention or care to how he is perceived by the surrounding world. He’s reserved, calm, and oh, the way his Adam's apple bops when he clears his throat softly is criminal.

You’re prepared to ask him about his tattoo when you recall that you are supposed to be maintaining a professional, yet amiable environment. To make it obvious that he’s captured your attention and then some would interfere with the entire purpose of his appointment, which he scheduled for academic assistance with you, a tutor.

You immediately avert your gaze when reality smacks you in the face and you shift your focus back to his paper, sliding it under your palm and ripping the cap of your pen rather harshly. Just as you turn away, Choso finds himself peering over at you, but far less sneakily.

He had come here expecting to despise the entire process, for his pride is slightly wounded that he even has to visit a writing tutor, but he refuses to allow his lacking skill in essay craft to debunk his grade in something he is so passionate about, and something that he desperately needs to graduate. Besides, he has come for help early enough in the process for it not to have much of a strain on the final product overall, but when he found you in your office, he hadn’t expected to be working with someone like… you.

He was expecting a stuck up hermit who was prepared to tear apart every single piece of his rough draft that he had thrown together, sneering down at him through round framed glasses and frowning at his sheer inferiority within the English department. Instead, he’s greeted with you; a fresh, friendly and drop dead gorgeous face that welcomes him in with no judgment. Aesthetically, and likely spiritually, the two of you can’t appear more different, but you don’t seem at all moved by his dark presence. You smile at him, and you compliment his work though no one has ever taken him as a guy interested in or withholding the brains of one who desires to study the inner workings of the human body. He half thinks you’re just being nice because it’s your job, but he can’t help but take a liking to you immediately solely because of how pretty he deems you to be.

Not only that, but you guide him through each and every one of his stand points within his draft, circling words, marking down sentences, scribbling little notes in the corner summarizing the main point he wishes to get across and how he intends to prove so with his research. You listen to him after asking him to explain something you don’t quite understand, and your eyes search his honestly as he mutters through his intentions that are yet to be properly conveyed on the page. You then nod along with him and tell him that he makes perfect sense when he talks, then you freely provide suggestions about how he can improve this portrayal of understanding in a different way.

And everything you tell him, he understands effortlessly. You have a way with your words and how you transcribe them into something that can be put into paper. You know absolutely nothing about what Choso does academically, but somehow, you magically transform that unknown into what you do know. You tell him that literacy is universal, so it’s easy for you to take any topic and help him construct it properly for literary intake.

Choso finds himself enraptured by your tutoring. He’s agreeing with you, humming in interest and pointing at the things you write for him, typing away at his notes to record everything he’s hearing. He’s taken by the way your lips move when you speak passionately, intelligently; how your hands swirl animatedly with your speech as you paint physical pictures in the air of what you are verbalizing; how you grin widely when Choso adds onto your suggestions, proving that he is getting a hang of what you are telling him. And above all, Choso can see the joy in your eyes as you help him, how entranced you are by the chance to hold an intelligent conversation about what you have mastered doing and what Choso has mastered doing.

You actually like tutoring him, and Choso can tell because he has come to enjoy being tutored by you within the hour and a half block that you are given.

The two of you only make it through about eight of twenty pages before you somehow get off topic, minutes past your block has ended.

“How long have you been a tutor?” the purple eyed man beside you questions suddenly. You look up, closing the cap of your pen with a gentle smile. You don’t even notice the other appointment in the room leaving, the two of you now completely alone.

“Just for a little over a year,” you say. “I started at the beginning of sophomore year last year.”

“So, you’re only a junior,” Choso observes.

“Didn’t you know that when you clicked my profile on the tutoring site?” you tilt your head.

Choso shakes his head, looking down as he reaches his hand to his keyboard and bouncing his leg. “I… wasn’t paying attention,” he mutters and you laugh slightly.

“You could have picked anybody to help you, then.”

“Yeah, apparently,” he hums. “I’m glad I got you though.”

A certain giddiness captures you as your light smile brightens. “Really?”

“I- just mean, you’re a good teacher,” he adds quickly, brows drawing together. His jumping knee leans over the slightest in his manspreading position beneath the table, leading it to bump against yours clumsily. The two of you look down at the same time, and he brings his leg back in hastily. “Sorry.”

“You’re good,” you bring your shoulders up as you crowd your hands in your lap, his brief contact having startled your nerves. “And thanks. I try my best. I actually had fun during our session.”

He turns to look at you. “You had fun trying to fix my awful writing?”

“No, no,” you chuckle. “Usually I help a lot of freshmen and they don’t really care what they’re writing about, but you really seem to.”

He hums. “I get it.”

“So… why biology? Why blood function?”

“I don’t know. It’s always been cool to me, how much stuff happens inside the body that we can’t see,” he says lowly. “I also… got money to come here in high school for science and all that. It’s kinda always been something I’m good at.”

“You say that like it’s not a big deal,” you raise your brows, turning in your chair to face him completely. He glances at you momentarily from the side, but keeps himself awkwardly forward as he clicks randomly away at the keys on his computer. You can see a dust of pink creeping over his pale skin as he eyes his screen.

“It’s not really. Plenty of people have scholarships and stuff.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t make yours any less impressive,” you say, and his blush brightens. He’s so cute. “What would you wanna do with that when you graduate? This is your last year, right?”

“Oh, uh,” he tilts his head back. “I’m looking for work now… but I don’t know, not a lot of jobs in my field would really…” he tries to find a way to explain. His lips tug to the side and his brows angle, hand finding his locks. “...approve of the way I present. I could probably get away with being a lab tech, but if not, I’d do something behind the scenes. Maybe get another job in retail, too.”

You hum, looking over him. “Is it because of your…” you stop to point to his neck. He looks at you quizzically, reaching his hand to where you point. His face relaxes in realization.

“Yeah,” he breathes out a light laugh, and you shiver. “Didn’t know you could see that.”

“Only a little…” you grin. “What is it?”

He takes in a deep breath, looping his fingers over his jack and pulling it down from the skin by his ear. His face is still lit with a pinch of color as he averts his gaze, tilting his chin so that you can see the sharp lines of ink swerving from behind his ear down to his collarbone, a cyber sigilism design.

You gulp, your own face growing warm with heat as you examine the way his muscles ripple beneath the tattoo, his face bored though leg still jittery with nerves.

“I like it,” you say as he releases his jacket and lets it rise to conceal his neck once more. “It suits you.”

He looks at you, pursing his lips. “Thanks. I have a lot more.”

“Yeah?” your eyes dash over his frame out of curiosity.

“You won’t be able to see them,” he tells you, and you snap your eyes right back up to his face. A small smile plays on his lips.

“O-Oh. Right,” you stammer. “How many do you have?”

“At least, like, twenty by now.”

“Really?!” you gasp, rather impressed. “Did they hurt?”

“Only a few, but you get used to it after a while.”

“Hmm. You’re making me think I should get a tattoo.”

Choso’s lips curl into a full fledged grin as he examines you, seemingly amused by the idea. You falter slightly when his teeth reveal from behind his soft lips, a dimple prodding in the corner of his cheek with his smile. “You’d get one?”

You pick up on his slightly playful tone and raise a brow. “Why? I don’t look like I would?”

He shakes his head. “I mean- well, no, but-” he paused. “I guess I don’t look like I’d want to be a medical professional, so.”

You can feel your smile widening, your heart brimming with excitement as he opens himself up to bantering with you. And his smile… you would have never expected such an angelic sight on someone like him. You knew he was handsome before, but now with his eyes shining with humor, his cheeks flushed, and a tumble of shy laughter spilling from his throat, you’re willing to risk everything for a chance to hear him laugh again.

“See?” you muse as he finally closes his laptop.

“Where would you get one?”

“Uhhhh,” you try to think. “Maybe… on my shoulder?”

“Yeah?” he pokes out his bottom lip and nods. “I think you’d pull it off,” he goes to tuck his papers back into his bag, keeping his eyes down as the next phrase falls from his mouth. “Maybe I should take you to get one.”

Your brows jump at his suggestion, unsure of whether he is joking or being serious. He catches your eye when he pulls himself back up, heliotrope pools simmering with that hint of bashfulness as he looks at you through his long lashes.

“Y-You know,” he starts once more. “After you finish helping me with the rest of my essay.”

Your mind clicks when the topic at hand shifts back to the reason why you are sitting with him in the first place. You turn to look at the clock on the other side of the room and widen your eyes when you find that it is half an hour past when you were meant to be finished. “Speaking of,” you start. “We ran really late.”

Choso perks up, following your gaze. “Oh… shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to… keep you.”

“No, it’s okay! Really. I didn’t even notice what time it was,” you say. Choso stalls with his hand on his computer, having prepared to put it away, but something in his mind is making him hesitate.

“So-”

“Did you-”

You both stop, having talked over each other, and you laugh nervously. “Sorry, you first,” you tell him.

“No, you go.”

You oblige. “Well… when are you free next? We can keep working on your draft. Maybe in the library soon if you want a change of scenery? Or not, we could just stay here.”

You don’t know why you’re all of a sudden acting like a child struggling to speak before him. You are meant to be scheduling a follow-up, as you do with everyone you tutor, but somehow it feels as though you’re asking Choso out on a date.

Before you can say anything more, the brunette is nodding before he even comprehends what you’re asking. “Yes. The library is good. Let’s do that.”

You grin, relieved. “Okay. Cool. Great. When-?”

“Whenever,” he rushes. You blink, and he reels in upon noticing how quickly he answered. He turns away. “I mean- whenever you’re free.”

“Next week? Same time?”

He hums. “Yeah. That’s- that’s perfect.”

You go to stand as Choso reaches for his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. The two of you stand before each other, silence taking you as you find yourselves unsure of what else to say.

You look to the side and notice that Choso’s computer is still sitting on the table. You reach out for it, gathering it safely in your hands and presenting it to him. “Here. Don’t forget this.”

He looks down at the device and his brows lift. “Oh, yeah. Right,” he takes the computer from your hands, brushing his fingers accidentally with yours, before pulling it into his grasp and tucking it into his bag, lowering his head to hide his flustered expression. “Thank you. And thanks for the… the help.”

You nod, smiling. “Anytime.”

You remain before each other for a moment more, neither of you desiring to leave just yet.

“Should I, you know, give you my contact?” Choso suggests, and you perk up. “For next week, and I guess in the future when we schedule other appointments…”

“Oh, yeah! Sure, here.”

You pull out your phone and let him hover over you, his scent invading your senses once more as he types his number into an empty contact. You call it once he is finished so that your number can pop up on his phone, and he leans away. “Got it.”

“Great,” you smile at him. “I’ll see you next week?”

“Yeah. See you then.”

You watch his tall figure trudge away, out of the doorway and down the hall with his face into his phone as he works to save your contact. The moment he leaves, you heave out and press your hand to your chest, excitement fluttering through you in the form of butterflies.

Hell. What you would have given to get just another five minutes alone with that beautiful stranger. Maybe he would have asked you to hang out sometime properly.

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fandom #jjk fanfic #anime #jjk #jjk season 2 #jjk x you #jjk au #choso kamo #choso x reader #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo fluff #kamo choso #choso fluff #choso x y/n

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 7 months ago

Note

AITA for turning someone in for academic dishonesty?

I’m an American IB diploma candidate, and this ask does center around that, so sorry if we all just sound unbearably seventeen-years-old.

If you don’t know what the IB diploma is, think of it as if you had to write a bunch of essays and take a bunch of classes and do a bunch of service hours and then take AP tests on all those classes and add the AP scores together, and if they add up to a certain number, you get a special diploma that looks good to colleges.

Only eight people in the entire grade (we’re seniors and our exams are happening so we’re at the very end) are left in the IB diploma program right now because we made it this far and are all hoping our exam scores and essays. The program isn’t super popular at our school so we tend to have to mostly prepare ourselves for exams and such, so we’re all very proud of ourselves for getting this far and hoping that when our scores come out we get the diploma.

In short, we’ve done TONS of work. TONS OF WORK. And we haven’t received the amount of support that some IB schools are able to give. And suddenly, one of the IB diploma candidates admits in the group chat, “yeah, chatgpt wrote all of my IB essays.” If you know stuff about IB, she explicitly admitted to cheating on her Extended Essay, TOK Essay, TOK exhibition, Chemistry HL IA, History HL IA, Literature HL Essay, and Art HL Comparative Study.

That’s hours and hours and hours and hours of work that the rest of the diplomats candidates did that she’s just flippantly admitting she let an AI do for her.

but…….it also wasn’t really any of my business. So I wasn’t sure whether I should tell or not—especially since I’m the known goody-two-shoes of the group and I didn’t want to be viewed as a tattletale.

I asked two of the diploma candidates I’m friends with what they thought. One of them said “don’t be a snitch,” and the other said she wasn’t sure and kinda felt like I should talk. So… split response.

I was leaning towards “don’t be a snitch,” but eventually I just felt really indignant that this girl and I might receive the same end result for doing wildly different amounts of work. And I had evidence that she cheated—she admitted it herself. So I went to the school’s IB coordinator and I talked. I showed the screenshot. I essentially betrayed one of the candidates in a very tight knit group of students who are all breaking our backs to get this diploma with little to no IB-specific support from our teachers (our classes are all co-seated with non-IB-test-takers, who take up most of the class, which is an entirely different issue), but now it turns out one of us wasn’t even doing the work the whole time…

So I did it and it went to the administration and they’re “deciding how to proceed.”

Reason I’m worried I’m TA: she trusted us with that information and I told on her

Reason I think I might not be TA: it feels unfair that we should have the same shot at getting the IB diploma when the nights I stayed up crafting the perfect extended essay were the same nights she asked chatgpt to write her an essay and then moved on with her life and somehow did it well enough to not get caught.

AITA?

#aita #am i the asshole

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moonchild9350 · 13 days ago

Text

Whispers of Beauty

summary: you find your way again after a horrible breakup with the help of poetry and Hyunjin.

pairing: Hyunjin x fab!reader

genre: strangers to lovers au (slow burn), angst, fluff, smut-18+ MDNI

word count: 6.8k

warnings: time jumps, nipple play, clit play, unprotected sex (don't), creampie, multiple orgasms, cum tasting, finger sucking

notes: reminiscing of hyunjin as always. this will also probably be it until i finish the series i'm working on lol. the poems used in this fic are Now Sleeps the Crimson Petal by Tennyson and She Walks in Beauty by Lord Byron if you'd like to read them in full!

if you enjoyed, please consider a like, reblog, or comment as it keeps me motivated ♡

dividers by @saradika-graphics

please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or repost my work elsewhere without my permission. ©moonchild9350 (2024)

It was another busy day at the cafe, people coming in to order their usuals as they made their way to work, school, or elsewhere. You lose yourself in the art of making their drinks, the familiar task giving you a sense of comfort.

You definitely needed comfort after a recent breakup, the wounds so fresh, you could still feel your heart rip in two at just the thought. You were in need of some healing and your friend, Ember, knew just the activity that will help.

Every Friday, the cafe you worked at hosted poetry night where others can spend their evenings sharing their original works or reciting works of some of poetry’s greatest authors.

You loved poetry, loved getting lost in the words of those who walked this earth centuries before you. The works always incited emotion, your eyes welling up in tears, or scowling in anger at the passion of the writers.

You also loved listening to others, as they poured their heart out through words, weaving their stories through happy narratives or euphemisms.

While you were dating your ex, your passion for poetry dimmed, finding no comfort from the words on the page as your love for the stories was berated and considered worthless.

You sat aside your poems in exchange for the thought of love, burying the feeling of hopelessness deep within your heart.

Now that you were free, you started engaging in poetry reading again, getting lost in the words once more, your smile returning as you found some comfort from them. Ember suggested you start going to poetry nights, so you could get out of the house, meet new people, and of course engage in your ultimate love.

At first, you weren’t keen on the idea, having not gone to an event like this in years, but overtime you changed your mind, deciding it was exactly what you needed.

So you busied yourself in your work, counting down the hours until the end of your shift and when you could take a seat and enjoy the entertainment of the night.

Time passed, people came, drinks were made. Before you knew it, you were clocking out, taking off your apron and setting it on your hook. You fixed your outfit in the bathroom, then went in search of your friend, hoping she had already arrived.

You smiled as you spotted Ember, sitting on a couch in the corner. You walked over to her, embracing in a hug before sitting down with a sigh, happy with the relief of getting off your aching legs.

“I’m so excited you agreed to do this!” Ember exclaimed, pulling you close so she could hug you.

“Same, it’s been too long,” you replied, wrapping your arms around your friend.

She playfully ruffled your hair, laughing as you protested. “Seems like it’ll be a good turn out.”

You scanned the room, noticing that the tables and couches were filling in, friends, couples, and singles alike settling in for a good night.

“Yeah, the turn-out is usually good,” you replied.

You listened to the chatter, your mind wandering elsewhere in the cozy atmosphere. You’re not sure how much time passed as you stared into space, your mind running nonstop.

“Y/n! It’s about to start!” Ember said as she elbowed you in the side.

You shook your head to come back to the present. The lights were dim, a small spotlight shining on a spot in the center of the room. You assumed this would be where those who wanted to share their thoughts would sit, as there was a small wooden stool present, along with a microphone.

The crowd quieted, their attention focused on your boss who walked to the mic. She tapped on the head before clearing her throat.

“Welcome to poetry night! Tonight we will listen to some talented people recite some of literature’s greatest works. So sit back and let the words flow through your soul.”

You clapped as she left the makeshift stage, the first performer taking their place. You listened to poem after poem, your mind opening up and your heart beating at the promise of the words that were flowing through the small space.

Before you knew it, the night was almost over, the event coming to a close. You clapped as the last performer took to the stage, your eyes widening at the sight of him.

He was dressed in a black sweater and jeans, the fit loose on his slim body. His brown hair framed his face perfectly, the strands hanging down to his neck. His eyes were a beautiful shade of chocolate brown and seemed to shine with the spotlight that shone from above. His lips were large and plush and a pretty shade of pink that had you blushing.

He sat on the stool and pulled the mic closer and adjusted it. He cleared his throat as he looked out into the audience, his eyes roaming those gathered as if he was summoning their attention.

The extra step was moot however as everyone’s eyes were trained on him, awaiting the beautiful words that would fall from his lips.

You watched with bated breath as he opened his mouth and began to speak:

“Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white; Nor waves the cypress in the palace walk; Nor winks the gold fin in the porphyry font. The firefly wakens; waken thou with me.”

As the man spoke, you felt like you were transported to another time, as a princess professes her love for the prince. The words that he spoke were smooth like velvet, yet full of emotion.

His eyes gazed upon the crowd, his eyes catching person after person as he recited the poem, making sure to captivate the audience. Eventually, his eyes made it to you and remained there as he continued to speak.

You couldn’t help but watch his lips as they opened and closed, as he continued his prose. You could feel your face heat up, as you dragged your eyes to his, holding his strong gaze.

He finished in a beat, the crowd erupting in cheers as he stood up and bowed slightly, before returning to his seat. He wasn’t sitting far from you as he was only a few tables away, his back turned toward you.

As the night went on, you couldn’t help but stare at the man, your mind still reeling after that performance. You wondered who he was as you haven’t seen him around the cafe. Ember tapped you on the thigh, causing you to turn and look at her.

You rolled your eyes as she wriggled her eyebrows at noticing how you were staring at the mystery man.

Once the lights came back up, people milled around chatting, discussing the choices of the night. You noticed a crowd of people surrounding the mystery man, mainly women gushing at how well he did.

“I’ll be right back,” you told Ember, who was speaking with some random person that was sitting next to you.

“Sure thing babe,” she replied, a sly smile forming on her face.

You walked over toward the man, determined to speak to him before the night ended. You definitely wanted to compliment him on his choice of work as Tennyson was one of your favorite authors.

You waited patiently as the flock of groupies gushed to him about irrelevant things, probably trying to see who could get his number first. You smirked at their desperation, watching as he tried to disentangle himself from a girl who was trying to hug him.

Chuckling, you decided to help him out.

“Eh mm,” you said, raising your eyebrow at the girls who turned around to see who had interrupted them.

“Others are waiting to speak with the gentleman, just wanted to let you know.”

The girls looked at you with disdain, their eyes narrowed as they hesitated to move. When you opened your mouth to say more, they scrambled away, muttering under their breaths about how they were rudely interrupted.

Shaking your head, you approached the beautiful man and smiled.

“Hi, great job tonight. Tennyson huh?” You said, watching as the man blushed and tucked his head down.

“Thank you, uh…yeah. He’s one of my favorites.”

“Really mine too! I’m y/n,” you responded, holding your hand out to shake his hand.

His eyes lit up at your words, excitement etched on his face. “Ah! Another fan, that makes my heart sing y/n. I’m Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin reached his hand to you, wrapping his fingers around yours and giving you a firm handshake. You couldn’t help but think how soft his hands were, albeit a little sweaty.

“I’d love to chat with you more about him…or poetry in general,” you said dropping your hand.

“Of course, of course, that would be excellent!” Hyunjin said as he nodded, his hair falling into his face at the movement.

“Great, I actually work here, so maybe we can meet-up after one of my shifts?”

“Sounds perfect,” he said, fiddling with his sleeves.

You smiled at how nervous he was, thinking he was pretty cute. “I’ll see you around then,” you said with a wave of your hand.

You turned on your heels and walked away, making your way back to Ember. You couldn’t miss the sly grin she had plastered on her face.

“Well, well, well, someone’s been busy,” she teased, giving you a wink.

“No, no, I just wanted to speak with him and see if he wanted to talk more about Tennyson. Turns out that’s his favorite poet too.”

“Mmhmm, sure whatever you say babe. Did you get his name?” Ember asked.

“Hyunjin,” you said simply, a warm feeling spreading throughout your body as you said his name.

“Well, may great things be in store for you two,” Ember said, as she genuinely smiled at you.

-- --

Weeks passed with you filling your days with work. You picked up long shifts which left you exhausted by the end of the day, causing you to tread home and immediately fall into bed out of exhaustion.

You saw Ember sporadically over the weeks on your few off days, which was a nice change of pace.

You haven’t seen Hyunjin, as he hasn’t stopped by. You pretty much gave up on the idea of the man showing up, chalking it up to that he forgot or wasn’t interested….not that he owed you anything anyway.

Despite this, a part of you hoped he would have stopped by, wanting to discuss with him his love for literature. You were fascinated with him, remembering how velvety his voice sounded as he brought centuries old words to life.

You were working the register one day, taking people’s orders, which you didn’t mind as most of your customers were regulars and really kind. However, the sight of a particular person made you gasp, your eyes widening at the sight of them.

The man sauntered over, a smirk on his face as he approached the counter.

“Well, well, hi love,” he said.

You felt bile rise-up at his words, your mind swirling with a million thoughts.

“What are you doing here?”

Your ex, Elias chucked and ran a hand through his hair.

“Can’t I just stop by for some coffee and to see my favorite girl?”

“I’m not your girl,” you sneered, your fists balling up at your side.

“Oh come on love, don’t be like that. I’ll take you back you know. Just be a good girl and be mine again.”

You were furious, heat rising to your face as your blood boiled. You could feel your hands shake, wanting to punch this man in front of you.

You were about to respond when another person stepped behind Elias, his eyes narrowed.

You looked up and recognized Hyunjin, your heart skipping at a beat at the sight of him.

“You’re holding up the line,” Hyunjin said, crossing his arms and adapting a threatening stance.

“I’m almost done,” Elias said as he continued to focus on you.

You swallowed as you saw Hyunjin’s face turn red, his fists balling up.

“Is he bothering you y/n?” Hyunjin asked you, concern in his eyes.

You merely shook your head yes, scared your voice would betray you as you were close to tears.

“Leave.”

Hyunjin spat the word out with so much venom, even you were taken aback. He seemed so sweet and innocent, but it seemed he had a tough side as well.

“Oh, I see how it is,” Elias said, looking between you two. “Good luck man she’s a piece of work.”

At that, Elias turned on his heels and walked away, walking out into the crowded sidewalk. You found yourself letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as your eyes landed on Hyunjin.

Hyunjin let out a huff and then uncrossed his arms, as he walked up to the counter. His eyes searched yours, making sure you were ok.

“Hi,” you sheepishly replied as you fiddled with your apron.

“Hi,” Hyunjin replied as he smiled, clearly happy you were ok.

“So, can I get you anything?” You asked as you smirked.

“Hmmm, I was thinking we could have that chat. Sorry I haven’t stopped by sooner, work has been busy.”

At his words, you felt your heart flutter within your chest, your excitement rising at the prospect of spending time with him. You tried to control yourself before responding, willing your heart to slow.

“I’d love that. I get off at 8.”

Hyunjin smiled, elated that you accepted his proposal. “Perfect, how about I swing by and pick you up then?”

“Sure,” you said as you tried not to bounce on your feet.

“It’s a date then. Oh, and I guess while I’m here, might as well get an iced americano!”

You chuckled and began to ring him up, a smile on your face all the while. When you selected his cup to write his name down, you drew a cute smiley face, adding little stars around the face. You smiled at him as you set the cup down.

“See you tonight y/n,” he said as he turned to walk to the pick-up area.

Your mind was reeling, your heart pounding in your chest. Hyunjin called it a date, an actual date. Is it a date? Did he just ask you out? Or was he just saying that to be cheeky?

The rest of the day, the thought was on your mind, causing you to make a few mistakes as you helped out customers. As the time for your shift to end got closer, you began to feel nervous and jittery, as you weren’t able to stand still.

Hyunjin was right on time, a huge smile on his face as he walked in looking like an absolute angel. You couldn’t take your eyes off him, not realizing you were staring until he called your name.

Apologizing profusely, you clocked out and grabbed your stuff, rushing to stand by his side.

“Where to?” You asked, looking up into his eyes.

“Well, I thought we could take a walk around the city? Chat a little and enjoy the night atmosphere?”

A walk after a long day sounded perfect.

“I love that, let’s do it!”

Hyunjin grinned and bowed, ushering you ahead. You giggled and blushed as he opened the door for you, the little bell tinkling lightly against the glass.

You stepped out into the night air, the crispness a nice welcome after being in the cafe all day. You both joined the many others making their way down the sidewalk.

“So you like poetry?” Hyunjin asked in a serious tone as he stared straight ahead.

“Mmhmm, I do. I studied English literature back in university. I don’t know, it’s just something about reading the words of those from long before you that creates such an intimate look into their life and thoughts.”

“I get it. I’ve been studying and reading poetry a few years now. It’s a comfort to me.” Hyunjin said, as he contemplated his thoughts.

“How long have you been reciting poetry?” You asked, turning to look at him.

Hyunjin paused in thought as he considered your question. “I’d probably say the last three years or so.”

You hummed in response, impressed with his dedication. You both were silent for a moment, the sound of crickets chirping through the night, their song almost melancholic.

“So…” Hyunjin began, “who uh…who was the guy that was harassing you earlier? Of course you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to! I was just curious…” he continued, his voice trailing off.

You let out a heavy sigh. You deserved to give him an answer, especially since he came to your aid.

“That was my ex, Elias. We broke up a few months back. He um…I caught him with another girl in our bed…”

Your mood fell at the thought, remembering the day when you came home, exhausted from your long day at work. You were excited to see your boyfriend and have a relaxing evening…that is until you found out he wasn’t exactly excited to see you as he was between some other girl’s legs.

You recounted to Hyunjin how Elias tried to deny the affair, even though you saw the proof with your own eyes, but you didn’t give him a chance to grovel, ending the relationship that very night.

Hyunjin listened intently, his heart breaking at the fact that someone who was supposed to love you betrayed you instead. He definitely thought you deserved better as you seemed intelligent and kind and not to mention beautiful.

“I’m sorry y/n… he seems like an asshole to be honest.” He replied as he balled his hands into a fist at the thought of the sleaze bag he encountered earlier in the day.

“I recognize that now. There were definitely signs leading up to that night, but I guess I chose to ignore them.”

Hyunjin nodded, “I get it. You were blindsided by what you thought was a loving relationship.”

You hummed in agreement. You were blinded and so stupid, but Elias was in the past. You didn’t have to worry about him anymore.

“You deserve better y/n, just thought I’d mention it.”

You felt the corner of your eyes prickle with tears, threatening to spill over at any moment. Your chest felt heavy at his way of consoling you.

You did deserve better, and you believe that’s why his betrayal hurt so much. Your heart was healing, one day at a time. You could feel another stitch find its way within you at his words, Hyunjin’s company soothing. Somehow at that feeling, you knew you would be ok, and could continue to heal with the help of Hyunjin.

Your mind wandered to the man next to you. Maybe it was fate that you met him that night. If it wasn’t for your friend pushing you out of your comfort zone, you’d have never stayed to listen to others pour their heart out in prose and ultimately never met Hyunjin and his beautiful soul.

Months have passed and you are now dating Hyunjin. Each day is full of bliss as he showers you with love, making sure you feel like a queen.

He is picking you up after work and taking you to dinner as today is your birthday. You tried asking where he was going to take you, but he kept saying it’s a surprise.

You were excited to say the least at the thought of the night to come. Your shift couldn’t end soon enough, as the clock struck six, your boss letting you go early in honor of the special day.

Your face lit up at the sound of the bell, Hyunjin walking into the cafe. He looked handsome in his jeans and sweater, his hair styled neatly.

“Hi angel! Ready?” He asked, stopping at the counter.

“Yep! Let me clock out and grab my bag.”

Hyunjin chuckled as he watched you scramble around, picking up your bag and hurrying to his side.

“Now I’m ready,” you smiled, looking up at your boyfriend.

Hyunjin grinned and took your hand, his fingers lacing with yours as he brought the back of your hand to his lips for a kiss.

Even though you’ve been dating for a few months now, you still blushed at his antics, the novelty never wearing off.

“Then let’s go, angel.”

Hyunjin led you out of the cafe and outside. You looked around your surroundings, your eyes widening at every restaurant you passed, wondering if it would be the one.

However, you passed building after building, not stopping at any of them.

Hyunjin could sense your curiosity, as he gave your hand a squeeze. “We’re almost there, see?” He asked, pointing to a building in the distance.

You took notice of a brick building that seemed empty. You were confused as he guided you to the door, the corridor beyond eerie looking.

“Where are we going?” You asked as you were more than nervous at this point.

You trusted Hyunjin but a part of you was a little scared, not knowing what awaited you within the building.

“Don’t worry angel, let’s keep moving, just one more flight of stairs,” Hyunjin cooed, as you both walked up a flight of stairs.

At the top of the staircase there was a large door, the metal frame seeming unwelcoming. Hyunjin stopped in front of it and grasped the handle while looking at you with a bright smile on his face.

“Ready?” He asked.

You nodded your head and held your breath, prepared for whatever was on the other side. As he opened the door, you were greeted with a balcony overlooking the city, the skyline lit up against the night sky. There were fairy lights strung around the perimeter, casting a soft glow on the rooftop.

In the center, there was a small table, set up for two, the flicker of two candles casting shadows across the table. It was all so surreal. You couldn’t believe Hyunjin did all of this for you.

“Surprise!” Hyunjin said, dramatically wiggling his fingers.

You chuckled at his antics, all of your nervousness gone.

“It’s beautiful! I can’t believe you did this for me,” you said, your voice breaking as you looked at Hyunjin.

“Aww angel, don’t cry,” Hyunjin said as he rushed over to you.

He gently wiped the tear that had escaped while he pulled you closer to his body.

“I’d do anything for you y/n. I love you so much.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words as the feeling of butterflies fluttered within your stomach. You couldn’t believe your luck, happy that you were able to share this moment with the most perfect man.

“I love you too,” you gushed, your cheeks flushing with the statement.

Hyunjin flashed his beautiful smile before taking your hands in his once more.

“Shall we?”

“Yes please,” you softly said, letting him pull you toward the table.

You watched as he pulled your chair out, gesturing for you to sit. Once seated, he rushed to his chair and sat down. Your eyes followed his every move as he plated up dinner, the food smelling delicious as it was piled up on your plate.

He poured both of you a glass of wine and then signaled he was done. You both began to eat, the food seeming to melt on your tongue as a burst of flavors invaded your taste buds.

Hyunjin filled the evening with chatter, asking you about your day in detail. You were more than happy to discuss your day, as it was a little rough, having some difficult customers come through.

Once you were done eating, Hyunjin dished up dessert, setting down a slice of chocolate cake in front of you.

“You know me so well,” you said as you eyed the cake, your mouth watering in anticipation at eating the sweet treat.

“Of course angel, have to make sure you have your chocolate!”

You giggled and picked up your fork and cut a piece off. You moaned at the taste, your eyes closing as it melted in your mouth. You were in heaven, or close to it.

“So,” Hyunjin started as he twirled his fork around in his hand. “I am going to enter into the poetry night contest at the cafe. I think it would be something fun to do.”

Hyunjin looked at his plate, nervous in how you would respond. He wanted to share his talent with more people, and what better way to do so than through a friendly competition? The prize was also nice, one he believes would be worth winning.

“That’s a great idea baby!” You exclaimed, clapping your hands at the idea.

Hyunjin’s eyes lit up at your enthusiasm, his body relaxing further into the chair at your acceptance.

“Mind if we practice when we get home?” He asked, hope in his eyes.

“Of course, I’d love to help you,” you gushed, excited to hear which poem he chose.

“Great, let’s pack up and then we can head back.”

You nodded and began to gather your trash, helping hyunjin clean up. Once done, you both walked back to his apartment, giggling and chatting the whole way, your arms swinging back and forth between you.

“Thank you for dinner baby, I really did enjoy it,” you said, as you continued your walk.

“I’m happy you liked it angel, anything for my baby.”

You chuckled, your heart swelling at how sweet he is. You walked in silence, enjoying the quiet of the city as it was late. Within the last few blocks from Hyunjin’s apartment building, an idea popped in your head.

“Wanna race the rest of the way and see who can get there first?” You asked, wiggling your eyebrows.

“Oh yes! Let’s do it,” Hyunjin said.

“Just so you know, I plan on winning,” you teased as you dropped your hand from his.

“I’d like to see you try,” Hyunjin responded while squatting, preparing to take off.

“Ok, ready? 3…2…1..go!”

You both took off down the walk, a fluster of laughter and shouts as you both raced to his building. You couldn’t remember ever feeling this happy as you felt the wind blow through your hair as you raced your boyfriend. Tonight was a perfect night indeed and would definitely be one of your favorites.

— —

Once inside, you both made yourself comfy, changing into your sleep clothes. You giggled as Hyunjin pulled you into bed and pressed kisses all over your face.

“I love you sweet girl,” he murmured in between kisses.

“I love you too baby, that tickles!” You chuckled as he tried to pull you closer, all the while continuing to kiss you.

Once he was satisfied, he pulled back to look you in the eyes. “Happy birthday angel,” he whispered as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

You smiled before leaning over to kiss him on the lips, your heart swelling at the gentleness of the kiss. You both laid there for what felt like a lifetime, snuggled into each other’s embrace as you lazily kissed each other. You tugged your fingers through his hair, the soft locks gliding easily through them.

Hyunjin whimpered against your lips, as he pressed himself against you, his length hard against your thigh. You rolled your hips, grinding against him as you deepened the kiss, running your tongue against his bottom lip asking for entrance.

He pulled you closer, your bodies flush against each other as his tongue danced with yours. You wrapped a leg around his waist so you could feel him better and continued to grind against him, sighing against his lips as his cock brushed against your core.

Disconnecting with a gasp, you laid there catching your breath as you stared at your lover, taking in the love mixed with lust in his eyes. Your eyes fluttered as Hyunjin lightly dragged his finger down your cheek, to your lips, his thumb catching at your bottom lip.

You moaned as he slowly pushed his finger within your mouth, your lips immediately wrapping around the digit. You lightly sucked on his finger, your tongue swirling around the digit, your eyes on his.

You smirked as you felt his cock twitch against your thigh. As you released his thumb with a pop, Hyunjin pounced on you, rolling you onto your back. He attached his lips to yours in a hurried kiss, his hands fumbling with your sleep shorts.

He dragged them down as best as he could, you aiding the process as you wiggled out of the fabric, your feet pushing them down your legs. Hyunjin pulled away briefly as he gripped the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head.

You moaned as he attached his lips back to yours, your pussy clenching as he rocked his clothed cock into your core. He lazily kissed you, his pace slowing down, his heart beating against yours. You were lost in the feel of him when you heard him murmur, his voice sultry in your ear.

“She walks in beauty like the night, of cloudless climes and starry skies; and all that’s best of dark and bright, meet in her aspect and her eyes; thus mellowed to that tender light, which heaven to gaudy day denies.”

You pulled away slightly, confusion plastered on your face.

“Baby…what…”

But Hyunjin just silenced you with a kiss. “Shhh my angel, I’m practicing remember?”

It took you a moment to realize what he was talking about, lost in thought as his lips moved with yours, until it clicked a few seconds later. The poem. Ahh it made sense now.

At that, you relaxed further, letting out a sigh as his lips moved to your neck, sucking the skin there and licking the area to sooth it. Your fingers played with his hair, twirling the ends around the digit. As he continued to leave purple marks on your skin, he continued murmuring, his voice soft in the otherwise quiet room.

“One shade the more, one ray the less, had half impaired the nameless grace, which waves in every raven tress, or softly lightens o’er her face; where thoughts serenely sweet express, how pure, how dear their dwelling place.”

Once he was done reciting the next part, he trailed his lips on your chest, pressing wet kisses down the valley of your breasts. He wrapped his plush lips around your nipple, letting out little moans as he suckled the hardened nub.

“So beautiful angel,” Hyunjin murmured in between kisses as he fondled your breasts, his eyes closed in bliss as he savored your body.

His fingers trailed down your tummy, leaving goosebumps in its wake as he made his way to your core, his fingers swirling around your swollen clit. You sighed as he continued to gently play with the nub, shocks of pleasure wrecking your frame as you surrendered to his ministrations.

As he tortured your sweet flesh, his eyes snapped up to watch you writhing in pleasure. Licking his lips, he took a shaky breath before continuing on.

“And on that cheek, and o’er that brow, so soft, so calm, yet eloquent, the smiles that win, the tints that glow; but tell of days in goodness spent, a mind at peace with all below, a heart whose love is innocent.”

You opened your eyes as he finished, his voice trailing off at the end. You looked down at the love of your life between your legs, watching the veins pop out of his arms as he continued to pay attention to your clit.

You were close, the pleasure building, your chest heaving as you tried to breathe. Your hands gripped the sheets, the white fabric bunching up as you rocked your hips against his fingers.

“So sweet, so beautiful, delicate like a flower. Cum for me angel.”

You groaned at his words, your orgasm hitting you hard as he continued to gently fondle you. He grinned as you fell apart, his eyes roaming your face, taking in the look of pleasure, the scent of you as your slick made a mess of his hands.

Once you came down, Hyunjin shuffled up, parting your legs even more. At some point he had rid himself of his clothes, his hand stroking his leaking cock.

He brought his length between your folds, running his cock through your slick, before pushing into you. You both let out a moan, your arms reaching out for Hyunjin as he began to thrust into you.

“My baby,” Hyunjin cooed as he leaned down, your hands wrapping around his neck as you brought him closer to you.

Hyunjin slowly thrusted into you, taking his time, his cock dragging through your walls and hitting your sweet spot each time. You whined as he buried his face within your neck, placing sloppy kisses there, as he murmured his love for you.

You felt overwhelmed as he made love to you, the heat within your core building again. You clutched onto Hyunjin anywhere you could, his hair, his back, his waist as he brought sweet bliss upon you.

You reveled in the sound of both of you, as you breathed as one, punctuated with a low moan as he continued to rock into you. Hyunjin groaned each time your pussy made known how good he was fucking you, his hips stuttering as you squeezed around him.

“Come on angel, cum for me, be a good girl yeah?” Hyunjin moaned into your ear, his pace becoming more erratic as he got closer to his high.

You felt his cock twitch within you, your pussy clenching again and again, locking him in. You were blindsided as the coil within you snapped, your orgasm hitting you hard as you gasped, your pussy dripping with your arousal, drenching Hyunjin’s cock as he continued to fuck you through it.

Hyunjin let out a loud groan at the feel of your walls spasming around him, triggering his high, his cum spurting out within you, thoroughly coating your walls.

As you came down, you watched the man you love fall apart above you, a sight you will never get used to. He looked down at you, sweat dripping down his face, his hair disheveled as he thrusted his hips within you a few more times for good measure.

“Such beauty in your afterglow,” Hyunjin cooed as he pushed a strand of hair behind your ear and trailed a finger from your lips, down your chest, your breasts, your tummy, all the way down to your core.

He dragged his finger through some of the cum that was leaking around his cock that was still buried within your heat. Taking his soaked finger, he brought it to your lips, smiling as you opened and took the digit in.

You swirled your tongue around his finger, licking up the salty liquid, humming as you swallowed.

“Good girl,” Hyunjin praised as he withdrew his finger and his cock.

You whimpered at the emptiness, your arms reaching out for Hyunjin. He snuggled into your embrace, pressing sweet kisses all over your face.

“Stop baby,” you giggled, turning your head side to side.

“Nope, won’t stop angel,” Hyunjin teased as he continued his assault.

You both battled for a little while longer, the room filled with laughter as you both teased each other. Hyunjin settled down however and stared at you, almost as if he was staring into your soul.

“You know I love you right?” Hyunjin whispered, as he memorized your face for the millionth time.

“Mmhmm,” you said as you brushed your fingers through his hair. “And I love you.”

Hyunjin smiled at your confession as he leaned to press another kiss to your lips.

“Happy birthday,” he said as he rested his head on your chest.

This would be one of your best birthdays yet, filled with special moments with the man you love.

The days passed as Hyunjin prepared the competition. He was ready to win, ready to receive that prize so he could surprise you. He had a plan after all.

You helped him practice as much as possible, your nights spent at your place or his, snacks scattered around the table as Hyunjin paced the floors reciting the poem. You were sure he would win, as he improved greatly over the last few weeks.

You had to work the day of the competition, however, Hyunjin would meet you there before your shift ended.

“You got this babe,” you said to him as you left for your shift, giving him a smile as you walked out the door.

Your shift passed, your nerves getting the best of you as the time of the competition drew nearer. Ember showed up early, wanting to support your boyfriend and cheer him on.

You directed her to a table, so that way you both would have good seats for the night. It didn’t take long until Hyunjin showed up, handsomely dressed as always.

He smiled as he approached you. “Hi angel!” He gushed, his body radiating with excitement.

“Hi baby, ready?”

“Of course, gonna win this thing!”

You chuckled at his optimism. “Go sit, Ember saved us seats. I’ll be there soon.”

Hyunjin nodded and blew you a kiss before walking away, taking a seat next to your friend.

You finished your shift and clocked out, the time passing fairly quickly. You sat down next to Hyunjin and placed your hand on his giving it a squeeze. He seemed to be buzzing with enthusiasm, but deep down you knew he was nervous.

“You got this baby,” you whispered, giving his hand another squeeze.

Hyunjin smiled and relaxed, elated that you were there to cheer him on.

The event began in no time, the little cafe packed with patrons. You watched as contestant after contestant performed, their words filling the small space, and taking the listeners to a different place and time.

Before you knew it, it was Hyunjin’s turn. You and Ember cheered him on as he took his place on stage, his confidence oozing as he gazed at the crowd. You were captivated as he began to speak, the words reaching each person, telling a story of love and beauty.

Hyunjin maintained eye contact with each person, his voice raising and falling at the appropriate moments, his hands flowing in movements that helped tell the story.

You couldn’t take your eyes off of him and neither could anyone else. After he recited the last line, there was silence in the cafe as everyone recovered from the journey, before a thunderous applause rang out.

You grinned as you cheered enthusiastically, watching as your boyfriend bowed before walking back to your table.

“Good job babe!” You said as you kissed his cheek, the flesh reddening at the action as all eyes were on him.

As he was the last contestant, the award ceremony began shortly after his performance. You listened as your manager thanked everyone for being there to support these talented people as cheers rang out once more.

Once she was done with logistics, the time came to announce the winner. You held your breath as she slowly unfolded a piece of paper, your hand reaching out to hold on to Hyunjin’s.

She took a moment to read what was written before a smile broke out on her face.

“And the winner is….Hwang Hyunjin!”

Cheers rang out at the announcement, but loudest of all was you. You hugged Hyunjin tightly, tears forming in your eyes at his win.

Hyunjin stood up to go claim his prize, the loud uproar not dying down until he sat down.

“You did it!” You exclaimed, grasping his hands in yours.

Hyunjin beamed, his eyes shining as he tried not to cry.

“I did it for us love.” He said as he gazed into your eyes.

You cocked your head in confusion. “For us?” You inquired.

Hyunjin nodded as he handed you the prize he’d won. “Open it.”

You took the envelope from him and opened it, eyeing two pieces of paper nestled within. It took you a moment to notice what they were.

“Plane tickets?” You looked closer. “Oh! We’re going to Paris!” You exclaimed as you began bouncing on your seat.

“Yes we are angel,” Hyunjin said as he watched you dance in your seat.

Hyunjin needed to win this trip. He wanted to take you to Paris, the city of love, to shower you in love. He also had another plan up his sleeve, one that he had to keep secret for just a little longer.

His mind wandered to the little black box tucked away in his sock drawer, a beautiful diamond nestled in the velvet within. He knew you were the love of his life from that first day he saw you, sitting in the crowd listening to him speak.

You were his muse, his love, his everything; your aura radiating whispers of beauty.

He wouldn’t want to spend his life with nobody else but you. That he was sure of.

Taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @simpforleeknaur @armystay89 @palindrome969 @slut4hee @ivydoesit23 @amarecerasus @kaysungshine @fun-fanfics @baby-stay92 @velvetmoonlght @possum-playground

#stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #hyunjin smut #hyunjin x reader #skz smut #skz x reader #hwang hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin x reader #stray kids fluff #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin angst #stray kids angst #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids fanfics #stray kids hard thoughts #stray kids hard hours

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sweetimpurity · 8 days ago

Text

I Think I'll Keep You 5

a/n: Thank you again for your patience! I hope you guys enjoy and the next chapter is already underway and will come very soon! And some more art and bots coming out as well so look out for that!

w.c.: 10.2k NSFW MINORS DNI

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5

“...accurate and efficient methods of decoding… further aiding us in understanding… um… complicated genetic codes… pushing preservation and conservation. Uhh… yeah.” Miguel sighs, sitting up in his seat and peering over your arm as you type away on his laptop. Sitting at a table in the middle of the library during tutoring hours. Your fingers typing for him as he speaks what he wants written. He can’t type. Not with his right hand totally out of commission. So he’s come to your open tutoring hours. And now you have a student to work on so you can get paid and he can get help with his work. It’s Saturday and the two of you have been practically connected at the hip for the past two days.

You woke up beside him yesterday afternoon after that late night emergency room run. Lazily, sleepily taking the rest of the day slowly. Walking across campus to get food since all you both ate the whole night was a few pieces of candy. Smiling and talking, shoes splashing in shallow puddles along the concrete. A refreshing feeling having moved on from the mess of the last few weeks. The bubble has popped. That bubble of sex and ignorance that felt so great for the both of you. Sitting in the dining hall, among the hardwood and tall, ancient windows of your old university; looking over the school grounds turned fall shades and the autumn breeze blowing in through the window. Trying to talk about anything that won’t add any more stress or tension. No talk of friends, or family, not even school. Really just talking about whatever comes into your mind. And the conversation is just so easy. It’s different to spend time with him outside of the dorm room. It didn’t happen very often before. A lot of your conversations were pillowtalk. It’s different talking about the other parts of your life that don’t take place right after doing the deed. Miguel is funny. And he’s a good listener when his mind is clear and he’s focused on you. Only you.

Feels like things are going back to normal. Well not how it was before. A new normal.

“I think it sounds good… it’s a little awkward in the intro still but we can fix it up later…” You assure him, fixing a few typos and reading it over. The library is nice and quiet as always. You didn’t have any other students come this afternoon so you have time to focus on this and help Miguel since you know he can’t really do it himself right now.

“I don’t know… feels like I’m missing something. I’m gonna include the research but it doesn't feel like enough.” He sighs, leaning his elbows on the table, pushing his frames further up the bridge of his nose and looking over the notes in his hand. His knee is bouncing under the table and you can feel the vibrations of it in your seat. He’s applying to the Alchemax grant program. A huge grant with a long essay to go with it, multiple letters of recommendation and a personal profile piece. Tens of thousands of dollars for his research project. And he’d basically be an intern there. Able to use their facilities and labs to complete the job and create a brand new study of his own. It would start right after graduation and almost definitely lead to a great job at Alchemax Industries. He sighs, leaning back in his seat, draping his arm over the back of your chair.

“You okay?” You hum, observing his clearly distressed behavior. His knee bouncing, his brow furrowed, the sighs. He looks over at you, in your eyes. Don’t lie. “Yeah I’m fine… just… want to get this right.”

You nod. Knowing that’s not all there is to it. But accepting it for now. “Well, maybe you should include some of your… personality…traits…” You suggest with a small smile, knowing that it will be like pulling teeth with him, clasping your hands in your lap and looking over at him next to you.

“Like what. I mean… Tyler knows me. He’s the one that told me to apply.” [Tyler Stone. President and Ceo of Alchemax Industries.] He sighs, pushing his glasses up on his head, his dark curls becoming a little messy with the metal pushed through them, and rubbing the sides of his nose with his fingers. The ache of wearing his glasses for a while when he usually doesn’t like wearing them at all. But he’s worn them more often the past few days. He can see you more clearly now.

“Yeah but he’s not the only one who’s gonna be working with you or deciding if you get the job or not. You want people to know who you are… know the kind of person you are. More often than not, that’s more important than the research when it comes to something like this. I mean, you’re not just applying for a grant, you’re applying for a job…” You explain kindly. He looks up, in your eyes, his eyes raking over your pretty face. He loves feeling like he can be close to you again. He loves feeling like he knows what’s going on in your head. Or maybe that’s just his need for control seeping in. Like venom in warm blood. Just sitting next to you like this. Even if he hasn’t so much as kissed you since everything went down. It’s only been nearly two weeks but it feels like an eternity. He wants to so badly. But he reminds himself that this is how things are right now. He messed up and he’s getting a second chance. He won’t take your forgiveness for granted. “Yeah, you’re right.” He admits, dropping the graphs and charts on the table.

“Maybe talk about family… inspirations… personal goals. People like that kind of stuff. People also want to know that you can be a part of something bigger than yourself…” You say, fingers brushing over the keys and ready to type what he says. “Uh…” He sighs, running a hand through his hair, trying to pull this out of his brain. He doesn’t really want to talk about his family. Doesn’t want to give them the satisfaction of being considered inspiration. But his upbringing and his parents’ names alone have opened a lot of doors for him in the past. His fingers fidget on the back of your chair, catching a few strands of your hair, playing with it so softly that you don’t even feel it. And he watches the side of your face to make sure you don’t notice, your eyes focused on the computer screen. Curling the strands around his finger and getting lost in touching you. Hanging on desperately to this morsel of touch. Knowing he probably shouldn’t but he just can’t help himself.

“I guess… we could say I grew up watching my parents with their business. But that’s more… financial services. When I was born, OLI was just taking off and now… I’ve watched them build it into what it is today.” He explains. You keep typing, writing it down in the notes to keep it straight. You can hear the sigh in his voice like he hates to be talking about it. You don’t know why. Mostly because he’s never spoken about this before. But if he’s applying for such a big opportunity then it’s important to include.

“OLI, I’ve heard of that, I think…” You look over at him, unsure what that stands for but you know you’ve heard that acronym before, or maybe you’ve seen it somewhere?

“O’hara Legacy Investments.” He says with a nod and sigh, a level of disdain in his tone. He leans forward, his mind still on this essay. On beefing it up with info that might secure him this grant. Even though he’s confident his connections will get him in. There’s always a chance things might not go his way. He wants to prepare for every possible outcome. He hates to feel out of control. You stop typing. That sounds like investment banking. Like the kind of thing that makes people billionaires.

“Is that the… that tall building downtown?” You ask, looking over at him and he nods, a blank stare in his eyes as he’s looking down at the research notes. “Your family runs that?”

“Yep.” He sighs, not offering more information so you don’t ask for more.

“Okay sooo… how would that influence your work at Alchemax?” You prompt, trying to veer back on course. You can tell he’s losing steam, you’ve been at this a while.

“So I guess it’s not really the same as what I would be doing at Alchemax but… Watching how that runs… how many people it takes to keep something running like that. I guess something about leading teams of people working towards a goal…” He keeps thinking out loud and you keep typing, interpreting his words into organized notes and ideas. “So.. maybe about you as a leader? You think you can be a good leader…”

“Yeah. I think so… and soccer, we could include that too.” He says, perking up and sitting up a bit straighter. Although the topic of soccer does bring his anxiety levels up a bit. Watching you type while playing with a piece of frayed material on his cast. “Yeah, captain of the soccer team, sports is always something they want to hear. If you’re a leader… organizer. And coming from SU especially, they love to see it.” You agree, typing and compiling the thoughts that come to mind. “And to know you can work in a team…”

Miguel nods. Feeling relieved that you’re able to help him with this. He did all the more technical notes for it over the past few weeks. Organized lots of thoughts and data to start the writing process. Then he broke his fingers and that put a wrench in the process. It’s due next week and without you he’d be screwed. But it works out sort of perfectly, and a little selfishly, that now he’s spending more time with you because of that. “I think also…”

He starts. You look over, ready to type whatever he suggests. “I’m an older brother too… that’s… I don’t know…” He mumbles. You find yourself smiling. “I feel like… maybe being a leader in that way is different.”

“It’s very different, yes…” You nod, looking back at the laptop screen, a smile dancing on your lips. “Maybe something about… protecting… looking out for those that are important to me. Or being a good role model I guess…” He sighs. Thinking. About Gabriel. About you. Pretty much the two most important people in his life. I guess I haven’t been a very good role model as of late.

“Loyalty… role model…” You say and nod. Typing those words in the compilation of notes you’re making in the margins. His knee is still bouncing.

“I also think you’re very passionate…” You say. He looks over at you, the side of your face, watching you type more things in the notes. Trying to create a section of his essay that can portray him as not just another applicant. “I think I’m just generally angry… I don’t really think before I do things…” He scoffs, shaking his head and leaning forward, his arms on the table, his head resting down on his forearms, looking at your pretty face from this angle. You grin and nod, giving him a look. “Yeah but we don’t have to include that… passion works…”

He laughs through his nose, blinking softly and admiring your face. Watching your pretty eyes, the light of the computer screen reflecting in them, making them especially sparkly. It’s quiet for a moment, just the clicks of keys and fingertips. He thinks, reflecting on all that’s happened in the past few weeks. That thing with Dana keeps coming to mind. That was really a moment of lost control. Is that the passion you’re talking about? That he loses control and can’t get it back until it’s almost too late? He worries about that. Not remembering most of it because he was so angry. It sort of feels like a dream. Especially since he fought with you right after that and then everything went right to shit.

All he knows is that Dana made it back to his dorm. He knows for a fact nothing happened. He wouldn’t have wanted it anyway because he despises her and she was drunk off her ass. But she did lie on his bed. Her perfume was all over him. And he remembers standing over her and wanting to make her hate him. Just so that she would leave him alone. That’s a level of anger he never wants you to witness, or anyone really for that matter. It scares him a bit now to think of it. All he knows is that if you think he’s loyal, he’ll be loyal as a dog. If you think he’s passionate, he’ll be a raging, burning fire to keep you warm. You think he’s anything, he’ll be that. If you want him to be.

He fidgets with the fray on his cast. Coming off the blue material. His gaze caught on the little cursive “mine” you wrote. That night in the drug store. When you were both so deliriously tired, sitting in the middle of the floor. Having this on his arm is like a reminder. Or a promise. That maybe you’ll be his or he’ll be yours again. He’ll just have to be patient. His thumb brushes over the word, like making sure the letters won’t fall off, making sure they’re stained into the blue permanently. Do you even remember writing this? He thinks. Or were you so tired it feels like a dream? His bouncing knee still vibrates against your chair.

“Anything else for today? We did a lot…” You ask, looking over at him. Bringing him out of his thoughts. “No, I think that’s good, thank you… but maybe next week we can finalize things and you can help me edit it?” He asks hopefully. “Yeah definitely, I’ll block out some time for you…”

He nods, sighing and pulling his glasses off his head. Folding them up in his hand and collecting his papers. You just save the document, debating in your head the words on your tongue. Closing the laptop so he can pack it up in his bag.

“So… you wanna tell me what’s stressing you out?” You ask, turning in your seat to face him and leaning your elbow on the table, head in your hand. He stops what he’s doing, putting down the stack of notebooks. “You can read my mind…” He smiles.

“No, you’ve just been bouncing your knee against my chair for the past hour.” You sigh, smiling soft but sympathetic at him. His shoulders slump. “Oh sorry…” He shakes his head, feeling embarrassed for being so obvious, pinching the bridge of his nose in his fingers.

“It’s okay… Is it the grant? I think your essay will be good enough…” You hum. Noticing all of his distress and not wanting him to be freaking out over something he’s already spent so long working on. “No it’s not… I… I’m really glad you can help me with it. Thank you… I’m just worried about the game tomorrow…” He nods. And it dawns on you. “Ohh…”

“I actually should get going… have a meeting with the coach. Figure out how we’re gonna pull this off…” He sighs, getting up from his seat to gather his things. He’s been wracked with anxiety about the game ever since putting two and two together that he’s out for the next few weeks. It’s against the rules for someone to play with a plaster cast on and he’s nowhere near getting that removed. So the team will have to supplement him.

“You’re not gonna play are you? You shouldn’t… not with your hand like that.” You insist, watching him get up, pulling on his jacket precariously with his one working hand. He can hear the concern in your voice. “I can’t. It's an instant disqualification… so I have to talk to Coach and maybe I’ll just assistant coach tomorrow, I don’t know…” He sighs, knowing it’ll be a struggle for the team to play without him. And they very well might not win. This is a university proud of its win streak so far.

“If it hurts, let Coach know… you don’t have to do anything that’s uncomfortable.” You advise softly. Wanting him to be comfortable. Always. That look of care on your face makes him feel a little warm. Making him feel a little soft and fuzzy inside. He can’t remember ever being worried over like that. He clears his throat, trying not to let that feeling get to him too much, shoving his laptop in his bag and zipping it up. “I will… don’t worry about me…”

He says it but he doesn’t really mean it. Although he doesn't want you to be anxious; he definitely doesn’t need to inflict any more emotional pain on you, he’s done more than enough of that over the past few weeks… he does want you to care. Or it’s more like… once he realized you actually do care, now he doesn’t want to lose that.

“Just be careful… I know you’ll do well and the team will be fine…” You smile gently. Clicking your pen and watching him getting ready to leave. His bag slung over his shoulder. “Thank you… yeah I just need to chill.” He sighs, moving his hurt hand around absentmindedly to soothe the ache. “Well… the feeling you’re having just means you care. It’s a good feeling, even though it’s scary…”

He looks in your eyes, down at where you’re still sitting. Feeling struck by your words. You’ve always been so good at that. You always know exactly what to say when he needs to hear it. He hopes to do the same for you one day. If only he can figure out how you manage to do it every time. He just nods in thanks, a renewed sense of relief inside.

“Dinner later?” He inquires, brow raising as he’s starting to walk away. Walking backwards away from the table, his eyes on you the entire time.

“Sure, I’ll meet you there…” You rest your head on your hand, watching him go from where you’re sitting. Watching that look on his face. A sort of satisfaction in that he’s leaving but already thinking about when he gets to see you next. He nods. Turning towards the library doors and smiling to himself, making his way out. Sneakers tapping on the hardwood floors of the academic building, sparing you one last glance. Finding your eyes still on him. A stupid sort of giddy feeling in his chest. Lopsided grin on his lips as he leaves the library.

“O’hara! Dude.” Peter’s voice brings him out of his flurry of thoughts. Watching his friend march down the rest of the hall to him. “Where you been? You disappeared again…” Peter chuckles.

“Oh yeah I‘ve just been… busy in the lab and stuff… and my application.” He lies. While it’s true he has been working on his application and piles of homework, he’s also been actively avoiding all of his friends ever since your fight. Unable to handle even the slightest of social interaction. His mind set on you and only you. But he won’t tell Peter that.

“Dana said you were being crazy or something…” Peter huffs, his brow quirked in disbelief. Miguel’s heart starts to beat a little harder at that. Did Dana tell everyone what happened? Or her version of what happened? “What did she say?”

“Well… she’s kinda implying that you two hooked up after the party last week…” Miguel’s eyes widen at that news. It’s just not true. But that seems to be the story everyone believes so far. “MJ thinks she’s full of shit bu-"

“She is full of shit.” Miguel sighs. Pinching the bridge of his nose. Or trying to with his cast. It was a foolish thing to give into his anger and take Dana back to his dorm. But he didn’t sleep with her. He’s not surprised though that she’s spreading that rumor around. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Shit, what happened?!” Peter flips, looking down at the cast engulfing Miguel’s forearm to the tips of his fingers. Looking at the seemingly broken hand, his eyes scanning over Miguel as a whole. Feeling like he has no idea what’s going on with someone who’s supposed to be his closest friend. “I broke my wrist but it’s fine, doctor says it’ll be fine even without surgery.”

“It’s fine?! What about the game?” Peter asks in panic, running a hand through his previously neat light brown locks. It’s against policy rules to play with a hard plaster cast for the safety of the other players and teammates. But Miguel’s the captain, their top offense and shooter.

“I’ll be on the sidelines and Miller and Durante can take care of it.”

“It’s Princeton, Miguel. We’re gonna get fuckin’ smoked out there…” Peter huffs, going on and on but Miguel just shakes his head, feeling that anxiety rising again. The anxiety you were able to dampen only moments ago. “I know it sucks… I know. But those new drills have been helping… I’m gonna talk to coach.”

“Alright… but Marco and Santiago need to get their asses in order before tomorrow. I’m not playing defense because they can’t pay attention to the fucking ball.”

“I know, I know…” Miguel sighs and nods. Knowing this is all bad timing. They’ve been preparing for this game for a while now and it’s a pretty big spectacle. The stands will undoubtedly be full to the brim. It makes him tense and anxious to think about.

“Okay…” Peter huffs, running a hand through his hair. “Well, text me what Coach says…” He sighs, lifting his fist. Their knuckles colliding as he’s starting to walk off to where he’s going. “No more disappearing…” Peter chuckles, looking back as he starts walking down the hall, pointing a finger at his friend. “Yeah, yeah…”

“Alright, I’ll see you later.” Peter says with a nod, his hands in his pockets as he rounds the corner, walking into the library. Miguel sighs, feeling that tension, that tomorrow might not go well and it’ll be all his fault. Because he can’t do more to help the team he’s supposed to be leading.

He jogs down the stairs, down another hallway and outside. The fall breeze and smell of the trees and crisp autumn air flows past his cheeks, blowing back the little curls by his ears. Hunching his shoulders up when the brisk air cools his neck, pulling his collar up and walking across the commons to get to the athletic building on the other side of campus. To meet with Coach about the game plan for tomorrow.

“Come on guys, one more time!” Miguel calls out to the team. Dressed in his uniform, dark blue and silver stripes, school colors with the Sterling University crest on his arm, a C on his chest. Number 99 on his back. Cleats and his cast to match. It does suck he has to miss out on actually playing but he does a lot of assistant coaching as captain anyway so it’s nothing he’s not used to. Coach Dean is talking with the referees anyway. Schmoozing on the sidelines, convinced it’ll earn them less whistles through the game.

Miguel sighs, anxious, shaking his head and directing his attention to the mobs of people filling the stands. The sun is setting, the field lights coming on and a slight chill filling the air. A buzz with that too. College soccer fans here as well as lots of students from both universities. People are excited. The team is excited as well as anxious without Miguel playing beside them. Knowing they’ll have to supplement him being out. Miguel huffs, stretching his arms and wincing slightly at the remnants of ache in his wrist, his breath fogging in the cold air.

“Come on… si yeah! ¡Mantén la posesión!" He shouts from the sides, watching the team warming up with the drills and keeping order, following them up and down their half of the field. “Marco!¡Sigue presionando! Call for it!" A mix of Spanish and English naturally leave his lips. Dark eyes follow their form and technique. Keeping everyone in order. They’re doing really well as always. But Miguel would prefer perfection. “Good! Alright break!” He shouts.

The team all relaxes, sighing in relief and collecting on the sidelines near the bench. Some passing the ball back and forth. The goalie is doing some technique in the practice nets with Durante and Miller. Others glancing at the opposing team warming up on their side of the field. “Marco, you’re gonna break you’re fuckin’ ankle doing that. Keep it light, it doesn’t have to be so fast. Slow down and go through the steps, alright?” Miguel instructs calmly, grabbing a ball and demonstrating on the turf by the benches. Marco nods, wiping his brow with the edge of his jersey.

“Just like that… keep it loose and look at Miller, he’s the one you’re paying attention to. Don’t look at Durante, he’s gonna be looking at Miller for that pass down the field. But that was still good, keep it up..”

“There’s a lot of people here…” Peter comments, squirting some water into his mouth, catching his breath. Miguel walks over from helping Marco, standing beside his friend and looking out at the people in the stands. It’s a little more than they’re used to. Little intimidating considering this stadium seats thousands of people.

“It’s a big game…” Miguel huffs, grabbing his water bottle. Wish I could fucking play… he thinks. Glancing at Coach, still talking to the refs near the midline. They have a little while before everything starts.

It’s the end of the first half and it’s been a good game so far. Princeton is good but so is Sterling. They’d be better if Miguel was on the field to help them. He finds himself getting frustrated on the sidelines, disagreeing with the refs calls and calling out to his teammates, trying to lead and instruct. The whistle blows and the team finally relaxes. Panting and walking over to the sidelines.

“They’re fast…” Marco pants, plopping down on the bench to catch his breath. “We have to be faster… but we’re holding our own…” Miguel says, hands on his hips and looking over the team, trying to keep the edge from his tone. He’s here to lead, not berate.

“You good?” He sees Peter covered in grass stains. Peter’s the one that’s been scoring pretty much all the goals so far. Princeton’s defense is good. It’s one of those games where no one’s going to score very many goals, it’s all about making sure the other team doesn’t get too close. “That was really good, keep doing that. And if it works better for Marco to go up the right side, then do that.” Miguel says.

“I will… they’re so fuckin fast…” Peter pants, grabbing his water bottle and squirting some in his mouth. Breathing heavy through his nose. The team takes a few minutes at halftime to refuel and plan for the second half. Peter and Marco will have to be smart about the next plays. They’re down by two and the other team just keeps getting closer and closer.

“I got a girl in the stands…” Peter says with a lopsided smile, still out of breath, spraying some more water into his mouth. “Yeah?” Miguel’s brow quirks at that information. He knows Peter has a lot of girls around him and friends that are girls. Makes sense, he’s very smart, an athlete, loud and the life of the party. Everyone always trying to get a piece of him. Not a foreign concept to Miguel himself. Miguel grabs his water bottle too, raising it to his mouth. “Who is she?”

“Her name’s y/n…”

What?

“...yeah you should meet her… she’s really pretty and smart and funny...”

What?

Peter keeps talking, tossing a ball to someone else across the bench. Not even registering the look on Miguel’s face. Like shock and something else. Something Miguel himself can’t put a finger on. And Miguel can only half listen to Peter’s words. “She’s head of the tutoring club… did I tell you I started doing that? Dude, I’m getting paid to do some freshman’s homework and get course credit. It's like the easiest shit in the world…” Peter laughs, talking on and on.

Miguel doesn’t understand. It’s like his brain can’t process this. Staring at Peter silently and waiting for him to say it’s a joke. But how could it be a joke?

“She’s riiiiight… there-” Peter turns, pointing at the stands. Turning stiffly, Miguel looks out to where he’s pointing. His dark eyes searching the stands and looking for your face. Hoping to see some stranger who happens to have the same name as you. But no. It’s you.

He watches your gaze snap onto them, seeming surprised to have both their attention now. How did he not notice? You’ve been here this whole time, sitting nearly 15 rows behind him and he didn’t know? But Peter knew?

He can’t help that his immediate reaction to seeing you is relief. Seeing you up there and he just wants to smile. Wants to disappear with you and forget this stressful game. You’re like… his best friend in the whole world. But then that relief is quickly quelled when he realizes Peter is the one who invited you, he’s the reason you’re here.

Miguel huffs. Nearly getting hit in the face when Peter starts waving at you. Stepping back and trying to make sense of this. There you are, waving back their way. What is this? He wonders. Unable to help the scowl that appears on his face as he observes Peter waving. What is this happening that he doesn’t know about or had no idea could even happen? Another bubble has popped and he didn’t even know it.

He looks back up at you. Your eyes looking his way. But are you looking at him or are you looking at Peter? He hates that he can’t even tell. He hopes it’s him but it’s too much distance to know for sure. He just holds up a hand weakly. Waving at you. Feeling like an idiot, a total fool. And here Peter is waving at you, thinking Miguel doesn’t even know who you are. Fuck.

“Alright boys! Let’s huddle up!” Coach yells, coming over to the bench and motioning for everyone to come over. Peter moves to head over, gently kicking a ball on his way. And Miguel can’t help but keep glancing at you. Feeling self conscious. You’ve been watching him and witnessing all of this, this entire time? He didn’t even know you were here and half of the game had already been played. And all he’s done is stand on the sidelines while Peter played big shot scorer.

Your hands wave at him, mouthing something he can’t make out. His brow knitting together as you try to communicate something to him before Coach snaps again.

“O’hara!”

His eyes snap to the team huddled by the bench. Taking long strides to get over there. But his mind is a mess. He didn’t even know you knew each other.

The second half, the rest of the game, it’s hard for Miguel to focus on coaching. He’s watching the team play but it’s like a delayed reaction in his mind. Like his body is here but his brain is trying to tap into some invisible signal stretching from you to him. Peter scores again and Miguel flinches at the sound of the stands erupting. Cheering and echoing through his head. Pounding the sides of his skull.

He can’t help but glance your way every chance he gets. But every time he’s able to spot you in the sea of colors and foreign faces, you’re looking at the ball on the field. Which is always in Peter’s possession. And he can’t focus on anything except what he doesn’t know. What he can’t control.

…

“Wooooo!” Marco hollers, the team gathering in a huddle on the field and celebrating their close victory. They won, but it was a tough game. Miguel stares almost blankly as the team all slaps hands and says good game. And by the time he snaps out of it, turning to find you, the stands are already emptying out and you’re gone from your seat.

“O’hara!” The team shouts, bringing him out of the mess of thoughts. The players crowding him in celebration on the sidelines. Cheers and loud voices. Talking about moments in the game, highlights, certain techniques that had Princeton on their toes. All in all it was an exciting match and Peter was definitely the savior, scoring more goals than anyone and making the game. And Peter is all smiles.

The team heads back to the locker room. Showering and warming down from the game. Miguel stands at his locker. His new locker since the punched in door wouldn’t close properly on his old one. Pulling off his jersey carefully with one hand and hanging it up. Wiping down his broad chest with a towel and hearing Peter with some of the boys walking in from the showers. His movements slow, brow furrowing, grabbing his change of clothes and pulling a tank top on, the black material bunching down his toned abdomen against his deep skin. Listening to Peter’s voice.

His mind races. Since when did you two become such good friends? And why wouldn’t I know you were coming to the game when I saw you all day yesterday? Does Peter know that? Does Peter know we spend countless hours together? Does Peter know we have this deep connection that I’m actually working really hard to repair? He ought to.

He listens to Peter’s conversation, as if waiting for him to say your name to confirm he’s talking about you. But he can’t make it out all the way. Something about a party, something about his car, something about the game. He watches the rest of the guys leave the locker room. Peter walks by with the guys and he just subtly, silently glares as they pass, not noticing him. pulling his hoodie on and shutting his locker gently. Pulling his phone off the charger and slinging his sports bag over his shoulder, walking out.

He slumps down the concrete steps, the hallway leading to the exit doors, opening out to the athletic parking lot. Raking a hand through his hair, his mind a mess. He’s not used to feeling so beaten down after a game. They won, he should be happy. He should be glad. But he just feels indifferent. Or he just really needs to see you.

When the door swings from someone else leaving, he catches a glimpse of you through the opening. The bright lights from outside assault his eyes as the door swings again. Seeing you for just a moment. Just a split second. Talking with Peter against the fence. He stops. What is he walking into? What’s about to change? You’re gonna be there right when he goes through that door. He stands in the dim concrete tunnel, feeling his heart race. He doesn’t like this feeling. This is the loss of control.

“Miguel!” Peter smiles, making you turn to look back. And there he is, walking out the door. You want to just run into his arms and tell him how great he was. Even though he didn't get to play he still coached very well and played his part in the victory. But Peter is talkative and gets in there before you can. And you don't really want to interrupt when he's talking with his friends. Since this is the first time you've been around his friends with him.

“We’re gonna get drinks, you have to come” Peter says, ushering Miguel over to where you’re standing. “This is y/n… y/n this is Miguel”

“Yeah we know each other.” Miguel says immediately. Not a hint of a smile on his face. He’s annoyed with Peter. Annoyed that it’s not a known thing. He wants it to be known that you two are an item. Or… that there’s something going on… he’s not even sure of at the moment. At least that Peter should know to back off. “Oh cool, so drinks?”

Miguel’s a little astonished with how easily Peter just brushed that off. Eyes flicking between you two and hoping to god you don’t accept the drink invite. But he bites his tongue. Friends. Really good… friends.

“Uh… I don’t know, I’m kinda tired…” You sigh. Part of you not wanting to go since it’s not your normal scene but a bigger part needing to go so you can feel like you’re really one of Miguel’s friends. Not someone he has to hide. That you can get along with them and be a part of his life. That’s all you want to prove to him.

“Come on… please?” Peter pouts. And Miguel wants to scream. Trying to tell you with his eyes that he doesn’t want to do this. Not right now. Maybe later when he’s had time to mentally prepare himself. It doesn’t help that you look adorable right now. In your Sterling Uni hoodie with a scarf to keep warm. He doesn’t want to do this. He’d rather just go to dinner. Like always. Talk for hours and maybe even fall asleep talking in your dorm like always. Not this. Please not this.

His eyes burning a hole right through you, trying to communicate it without using the words since he can’t right now, not with Peter standing right there. Part of him wants you to come and show you off. The other part of him wants you all to himself, not wanting to share you with anyone. But he’s trying to be better. Trying to control himself rather than try to control everything else around him.

“It would be fun, right Miguel?” Peter asks, bringing him out of his thoughts. He wants to say no. Wants to say fuck no and disappear, taking you with him. But he can’t do that now. So he just nods stiffly, forcing a smile. Almost painfully. “Yeah… come…”

Your eyes light up and Miguel knows he’s done for. “Oh great!” You smile and Peter is instantly excited too. Talking about how great it’s going to be and how many people will be there. Miguel’s heart is pounding, seeing how easily Peter was able to get you to come. How Peter is smiling and looking at you. A sense of dread filling his chest.

It’s the usual bar. The college bar around the corner from campus where the sports teams usually congregate after a game. Or the general student body on a Friday night. Loud music and conversation, the place is packed. Football and UFC playing on the multitude of TVs hanging in the place. The team filters in all acting like they own this place. Playing pool and getting drinks, talking to girls in corners and at the bar. It’s a crazy night at least for you. Miguel’s seen nights like this before, but this time you’re here. And he won’t let you out of his sight. Even as people talk to him, trying to strike up conversation and catch up. Since everyone knows who he is and knows his name. He still keeps his attention focused on you. He doesn’t care about anyone else in this bar tonight.

Drinks flow the second everyone is in there, laughter and loud voices, trying to be heard over the music. Miguel keeps his arm barred at your side to help get you through the density of people. Like a shield to make sure no one bumps into you. Not wanting you to be too claustrophobic or crowded. Staying nearby until you find two seats at the bar miraculously. As you sit down, Miguel quickly scans the room. Looking for one face in particular. No sign of Dana and he can relax a tiny bit. Sliding into his stool seat beside you.

He sits down, watching how you observe the place, looking a little out of your element here. It’s clear you’re not a party girl. You’re a smart, intelligent tutor and it shows. It would almost be comical if Miguel didn’t have a fierce determination to protect you in this place.

He leans over, getting closer to your ear to be heard over the noise. The smell of your shampoo mixed with your perfume, so close and familiar, filling his senses and almost making him dizzy. His mind flashing with moments of you in his bed. Your body under his and his face buried in your soft sweet smelling hair. He’s the only one in this bar that knows what you sound like when you come.

“Drink… Do you want a drink?” He asks, trying to be heard over the noise, his cheek brushing against yours. Pulling back to hear your response. “Yeah! Whatever is fine…” You smile, trying to speak over the chaos of people and stimulation. A bit out of your element but doing fine. Excited to be here with him and feel like you’re fitting into his world.

He gets the bartender's attention, ordering you just a beer in a bottle. He doesn’t know if you’d want anything fruity, not that this crappy bar would have anything that good anyway. He’s never drunk with you before. He slides it over to you, watching you take a gulp and smile. You’re so out of your element here. He sighs. A swell in his chest.

Even though he would normally be drinking a couple beers himself, he just has water in front of him. He wants to stay relatively sober. Enough to keep watch over you and make sure no one else talks to you. “Oh, I thought you were gonna get the same thing…” You chuckle, leaning your elbows on the bar and watching him sipping his water from a plastic cup.

“Someone needs to be responsible for all these people right?” He chuckles. As captain of the team he actually does feel that responsibility. To keep people in line since he knows they’ll listen to him. “And I need to be sober if I’m carrying you out of this place drunk off your ass…” He jokes, teasing you.

“I’m not getting drunk tonight, no way. No thank you…” You sigh, shaking your head. Looking down at the label on the bottle in your hand. Then your eyes dart around the crowded room a few times. He just looks at your face. You’re so pretty. Especially pretty in this low light.

“Well how is the beer at least? I know it’s not something sweet but it’s probably the best thing they have here.” He huffs, keeping his eyes on you, studying you. He’d love to just be all over you and show people that you’re his. But you’re not right now. You’re his friend and that’s the boundary you both set. He’s trying his best to uphold that after his mistakes. “It’s fine… I don’t ever drink much anyway so I’m not picky…”

He nods. Learning more about you all the time. The two of you have never been out to a bar or club before so this is all brand new. He can see how you’re a little nervous in this place. It’s not your usual hangout spot and he can tell. “Yeah, this place is pretty chaotic tonight…” He comments, looking around then back at you. “You’re okay though, right?”

“Yeah I’m fine…” You smile. Clasping your hands in your lap. He’s attentive, more recently than ever. It’s true that he’s become like your best friend over the last month and a half. Even though it hasn’t been that long, it’s felt like a lifetime. And with how much time you spend together, it still feels like he separates you from a lot of the other parts of his life. Friends, family, everything else. You spot Peter across the way standing with some people. The only other person you even know in this place.

Miguel follows your gaze over towards where Peter is and he can't help but wonder why you're looking at Peter or what you're thinking. He looks at the group of people around him, recognizing teammates and classmates, but notices Peter in particular.He tries to remain cool, looking back at you. "He's a great friend… isn't he… "

He says it with a little bit of annoyance in his voice, thinking about how you two have gotten really close as friends and he didn't even know it.

"Yeah he's really sweet," You smile, not really noticing his expression. You want Miguel to know that you can get along with his friends too and you can be a part of his life. "He's funny…"

His brow twitches just a bit. He doesn't know how to feel about the fact that you two are friends in and out of the tutoring club. And that you’re calling him sweet. And funny. He knows how charismatic and charming Peter is, knowing he could get any girl he wants. "He always gets the girls… he's quite the flirt…" He mumbles.

"Oh really?" You smile and scrunch your nose up, looking back at Peter and seeing that yes, there are many girls around him right now. And he must be very popular with the girls, you think. You hadn't really noticed that Peter was a flirt but you think he's charming. Maybe you're just so focused on being his friend to prove to Miguel you can be part of his friend group.

Miguel can feel his patience slipping. How you seem so oblivious to the fact that Peter is a huge flirt and that Peter was flirting with you earlier when he invited you to the bar. But he's been Peter's friend for years, of course he knows the girls flock around him. It just annoys him that you’re completely oblivious to it. He watches you watching Peter across the room, trying not to let it show on his face how frustrated he is.

"How's your hand?" You ask, taking a sip from your bottle. Gesturing towards his cast in his lap. Trying to talk over the noise in the room. The topic change gives him some relief. Grateful to think about something other than the image of Peter taking you home tonight. He lifts his hand, flexing a few fingers. "It's fine. Doesn't really hurt much right now. It's a good reminder to not lose my cool again… "

"Yeah, that locker room hates to see you comin’…" You joke with a smile. Shaking your head. Punched his locker like some guy in a movie.

Miguel can't help but smile, knowing you’re referring to him punching the front of his locker like a crazy person. He sighs, knowing it was stupid and a loss of control. "That locker had it coming though…"

You laugh at his words, his eyes lighting up watching your head throw back a bit. The fluttering sound of your laughter carrying slightly over the noise in the room and hitting his ears. He wants to make you laugh like that all the time. Make you smile like this every day. And Peter works his way through the room over to the bar.

"There you guys are! I thought I lost you…" Peter's face lights up when he gets closer, excited to see his best friend and you, the pretty tutor. He stands behind both your chairs putting his hands on the backs of them. Miguel’s eyes flick back-and-forth between you two. You're still oblivious. Smiling at Peter like you don't know what he's doing. Every instinct inside of him telling him to make Peter back off. But he's trying to be better for you. Trying not to lose control or act impulsive.

"Spending the night bragging, are you?" You smile and tease Peter lightly. Leaning over the back of your chair. He did score a lot of the winning goals tonight. Peter laughs and loves any attention from you. Miguel can only listen and watch this interaction between the two of you. It's like a nightmare come to life. And he's feeling claustrophobic in this crowded place with all these people. He just wants to take your hand and go back to campus, go back to your dorm, go back to the library.

"Well you all played very well…" You hum. Looking between the two boys. You can't help but notice Miguel’s body language. Thinking he must just be upset that he didn't get to play because of his cast. But he did very well on the sidelines.

"Peter here was especially on his game today. Princeton is tough…" Miguel says with tension in his tone, finally joining in on the conversation. His eyes flicking between the two of you but landing on you mostly. Watching your reaction to Peter's words.

"It's all in the foot work really. Reading the opponent… Gotta think about 10 steps ahead." Peter says with a grin, in his element. Miguel has to stop himself from rolling his eyes. As much as he loves Peter, he wants him to fuck off right now.

You giggle softly at Peter's joke and his obvious love for attention. Loving the way you can so casually hang out with Miguel and his friends for the first time ever. Miguel clenches his jaw, sipping his water and trying to keep his cool. You take a sip of your beer finding it's the last one, putting the empty bottle back on the bar. It seems both boys take notice.

"Can I get you another? "Peter asks, His eyes lighting up.

“Um…" You're thinking. You don't really do this that often and you're finally getting to hang out with Miguel and his friends. What the hell… "Sure!"

Peter flashes that charming smile at you and Miguel can feel his control slipping again. Now he's buying you drinks?

"I got it." Miguel suddenly says, waving to the bartender for another round. If anyone's getting you drunk tonight, it's gonna be him. So he can make sure you're okay. “Okayyy…” Peter huffs softly, raising his brow at Miguel’s rivalry. But Miguel doesn’t care. Grabbing the fresh cold beer bottle and sliding it over the bar in front of you. Looking back up at Peter, a stern expression on his face.

Over the next hour and your next two beers, Peter just won’t go away. He’s practically hanging on your chair, talking to you about whatever. And because you’re so nice and sweet you just keep giving into him. Smiling at Miguel too like you want him to be in on the conversation. But it just makes him feel worse somehow. Is he really losing you to Parker? Is that how this is gonna go?

“So… you guys are like best friends?” You ask, your words slightly slurred, cheeks pink and flushed. You’re tipsy and Miguel’s watching you like a hawk. Your beer shined lips as you smile up at Peter. So damn cute and pretty. “We are… best friends…” Peter says in a cocky way. Grabbing Miguel’s shoulder and shaking it a few times, a beer in his other hand. Miguel might be the only sober one in this place and it’s getting annoying.

He fidgets with the same fray on his cast, pulling on it and pulling on it. Watching you talk to Peter. Forcing a smile when you look his way. It’s getting unbearable. Eyes flicking around the crowded room and just wanting to get out of here.

“One more round?” Peter asks and Miguel groans internally. You’re both drunk, everybody is drunk and he just wants to get you back somewhere it’s safer. Peter gets to chatting loudly with some other people down the bar.

“Do you wanna leave?” You lean over, getting closer to Miguel, right up to his face and he just gives you a soft look. Admiring your pretty flushed features. He can see you’ve been having fun. “No, I’m good, we can stay if you want…” He hums gently.

“Don’t lie, Mig…” You whisper, barely loud enough for him to hear over the noise. And his brow knits together, hearing the nickname, your soft warm voice, wanting to reach out and brush your hair back, kiss your pretty pink lips. Anything. “I’m a little tired…” He admits. And even in your tipsy state, you know it’s time to go.

“Let’s go then… it’s too loud…” You sigh, a distracted Peter now talking loudly with Marco and Miller down the bar. Relief, Miguel thinks. He does really want to make sure you get back to your dorm okay.

…

“Wai-I ‘ave a question…” You slur, hanging onto him and pressed up against his chest as he’s trying to get you over to bed. His big strong arms around you and it feels so good, feels so right. What you’ve been missing all this time and now it just feels like everything is perfect and everything is good and… and your tongue still tastes like beer and… and he smells so good.

“Yeah, what's your question?” He asks so soft and gently. His voice is like smooth melted butter mixed with sweet brown sugar. Bringing you over to your bed and sitting you down on the edge. Making sure you don’t topple over. “Hold still, I’m gonna take your shoes off…”

“D’you think… that… um…” You sigh, the alcohol clouding everything making you instantly forget what you were about to ask him. But the thought is mixing around your brain just waiting to come out. After all, it’s all you were thinking about all night. “M-my shoe is stuck”

“I know, I’m trying to get it off…” He sighs, unable to stop the smile when he hears your little whine. You are pretty cute like this and he likes helping you. Kneeling down in front of you and taking your shoe onto his knee to undo the laces, slipping it off.

“Do you think that… all your friends… that they like-like it?” You sigh, wiggling your toes in your socks as he slides your shoe off. His hands on your calves, absentmindedly caressing up and down, having you in his hands like this is too good to pass up, but he looks up at you at your question. His brow furrowing, wondering what you mean. “Do they like what,-?” He almost called you baby right there. But stopped himself. Maybe it’s just being like this with you right now. Being close and finally being needy for his help, needing him in any way. Or the way you seem so soft and fragile right now he just wants to protect you.

“That they like me…” You sigh. Pushing a hand through your hair and he pulls your other shoe off, your feet freeing and legs dangling off the side of the bed.

He looks up at you, piecing together your broken sentence. Do his friends like you? Peter?

“Like P-peter… does Peter like me?” You ask and his expression goes serious. Swallowing thickly and setting your shoes to the side. He knows the answer. He knows that Peter obviously has a thing for you. It’s becoming more clear you have a thing for him too.

Miguel straightens back up, standing over you and listening to your drunken rambling. Your mumbles. “Cuz I think Peter is really nice and I think you and I can be friends… and I can be friends with your friends too…”

He doesn’t understand what you mean. Towering over you and feeling so blocked up. Like he’s miles away from where he wants to be with you. He wants you to want him. Not think about Peter.

“Uh… I think Peter likes you, yeah…” He mumbles. Looking down at your face. The way it lights up and his heart falls. “Really? So we can all be friends?”

His heart hurts, looking in your eyes. So confused, not knowing what to think. But wishing he could just kiss you right now and make your thoughts stop. Or to fill your thoughts with him. If he kissed you right now would you forget Peter ever existed? If he kissed you right now, if he laid you down and pumped into you until you were a crying trembling moaning mess like all those times before, would you forget Peter and think about him again?

“I’m sweating…” You huff, moving to get up off the bed and his arms come to steady you. “Woah woah slow down, sweetheart…” The words ooze off his lips. His hands guide you before you reassure him you can walk. He huffs, watching you walk over to your closet. He sits down on the edge of your bed, head in his hands. Feeling pathetic and so lost. Not even knowing what to do at this point. Has he actually lost you for good? Will he actually only ever be your friend now?

You’re sweating, pulling at the material of your hoodie and ripping it off over your head. Slipping your pants off and sighing in relief. Standing in your panties and bra by the dresser and looking for some comfy clothes. Your mind filled with the thoughts of being Miguel’s again. You’re friends with his friends like any girlfriend would be. So what’s stopping him? What’s stopping both of you from just being together again? Since you’ve proven to him, you can fit in.

“Miguel…” You hum, his head coming out of his hands and looking up at you. Eyes widening seeing you in just your underwear. Gulping thickly. “Yes?” He whispers. Like beckoning to your call. Like a plea for you to just put him out of his misery already.

You walk over to him, trying to half haphazardly pull on a big t-shirt. His hands unable to stop themselves, coming up to help pull the material down. You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re doing. This all just makes him feel somehow worse. Your body taunting him, teasing him with everything he needs and no way to get it.

Your hips slot between his legs, standing between them and getting closer. Fingers clenching into his shirt and smashing your lips against his. His fingers splay out, shock and surprise. His eyes wide and heart seemingly stops. You’re… kissing him… you…

Heavy breath through his nose and his eyes flutter closed. Kissing you back, feeling your eager tongue tasting like alcohol come into his mouth. Letting it swirl against his lips and his tongue. His big hands snaking around you, holding you for the first time like this in so long. You gasp and hum against his lips and a chill goes down his back. He must be dreaming.

But your hands go to his chest, pushing him back on the bed, and he’s so weak to you. His back hitting the mattress. He wants this so badly. Wants you more than anything in the entire world. You climb on top of him, clambering over his body, sitting on his abdomen and leaning down to kiss him again.

“Wait-”

He’s silenced by your lips, trying to be dominant and licking into his mouth. You never did that before. That was always him. But right now it’s like you’re hungry for him in the exact same way he was hungry for you all this time.

“I need you…” You whisper, pulling back from his lips with a smack. His eyes wide and breath heaving. It’s everything he’s ever wanted and yet it’s not right at all. “No baby… you need to go to sleep… you’re drunk…” He whispers, feeling so weak, his hands running up your warm bare thighs, like medicine. His cast is slightly scratchy on your thigh. Finally your body on his, your warmths feeding off of each other.

“No please… say you want me, please you have to, don’t you want to?” You whine. Leaning over him and kissing his cheek, burying your face in his neck. He’s speechless. Doesn’t know what to say or think. He thought you were done all this time. He thought you were pining after Parker.

“I want you… I do want you…” He whispers before his mind can even think. His hands falling from your thighs and flat on the bed. It feels wrong to touch you this way. His love for you overshadows his own selfish need. You won’t remember this in the morning.

You won’t remember this in the morning.

“I love you…” He whispers. Into your hair. Choking back a lump in his throat.

“Mm?” You groan, pushing yourself up drunkenly on your hands, your hair dangling into his face under you.

“Nothing…” He whispers. Swallowing thickly and wrapping his arms around you again. Pulling you to his chest and hugging you. Keeping you there, knowing you’ll pass out in a few minutes anyway and he can tuck you into bed safe and sound.

To be continued…

Reblogs and comments very much appreciated!! Let me know what you think or your theories!

Taglist (thank you my sweets 🍬) :

@miguels-cock-piercings @queerponcho @club-danger-zone @bossva @softcrayon

@nommingonfood @bruhhvv

@jessies-unrelagated-thoughts @mauvecherie-writes @haveclayeveryday @kimivixen

@jadeloverxd @chiikasevennn @mvlanchqly @resident-cryptid

@x0tw0d57 @vampyboys @miguelspriscilla

@francesca-the-1st @migueloharasbbm @razertail18 @laysmt

@tojiragdoll @maiyart @wazawazooo @mun-2996 @marshhbs

@curious-randomlr @safixiovi @daddyfroglegs @theplaid-wearingmoose @reader-1290

@yeanika @elysiumsangel @rinnako @mangoslushcrush @twwcs

@izakopanyi2 @migueloharasoulmate @slut4oscarissac23

@miss-loomis @genny101

@aphinthestars @webshooterrr9 @m4dyy

@jdbxws @roserfz27 @ohara-whore @oharaslove @daisy-artfield

@mooreaey6yem @peachey-pie @migueloharacumslut @pxtched

@yougavemeyourheartyouknow @julia4today

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getmeoutofhell · 22 days ago

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HEYY!! i have a req! could you do where like reader dresses up as art for halloween? but like not during the day but when he gets home? like reader is dressed in black and white lingerie? like the top is a white lacy corset and the underwear is black and lacy too?? and when he comes home he just sees the reader and shit goes DOWN! if not its totally okay! make it as long as you want make it as short it doesn’t matter! whatever your heart desires! im sorry if this is also to much to ask for! but ily and take your time or dont do it! whatever youd prefer! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

Art the Clown x F! reader smut

summary: reader decides to dress up as art for a surprise, but he had other plans.

warnings: smut!, cussing.

it was 9pm, art should be home soon. you look at yourself in the mirror one last time before walking out yalls shared bedroom. you decided today you wanted to dress like him as a surprise. if we’re being technical, your outfit wasn’t exactly like his. it was a lingerie version. before he got home you had also cleaned up the house (basically cleaning up after him as usual). you and art have been together for some time now, meaning yalls anniversary is coming up soon, so you thought now would be the perfect time.

you hear the door downstairs creak open, indicating art’s finally home. you miss him every second he’s away from you. you bought him a phone, to text him while he’s away, and not even a week later he broke it. you told him not to put his phone in the bad of sharp objects, but of course he has to be stubborn and do everything his way all the time. you watch art as he shuts the door and places his bag on the side before stripping out of his clown shoes. he must be really tired to take off his shoes right as he enters the house, it’s rare for him to do that. he then grabs his air horn and starts to abuse it, it’s his way of letting you know he’s home. “hi baby! i have a surprise for you but you have to close your eyesss.” he immediately complies and covers his eyes with hands as you walk down the stairs. you tell him no peaking before guiding him to the living room couch, having him take a seat on the sofa. you can see him smiling due to how high his cheeks are raised, making you smile at him. he’s so cute when he’s not out killing, but his evil side also attracts you in a way.

“okay are you ready?” you ask, placing your hands over arts. he nods like a small school boy, eager to see what his surprise is. you start to count down from 3. “3…2…1…open!” he opens his eyes before looking you up and down with the biggest grin known to man. he starts to clap his hands and toot his horn and the sight of you. “i’m you, kinda.” he loves it!! that’s good, maybe it’ll make him not so sleepy. when all of sudden, he stops clapping and his face goes blank. you step back slowly, confused on his sudden change of emotions. you know art is a ticking time bomb, one minute he’s happy the next he’s pissed off and you don’t know why. as you were about to ask him what’s wrong, he gets up from the couch standing directly in front of your face. you feel his hot breath against your nose as he looks down at you. in moments like these, you feel your heart sink to the bottom of your stomach. what if he decides to just bash your fucking brains in, not caring about you or anything anymore. not that he cares about anything right now anyway, but still. he places his left hand on your cheek. your eyes never left his face. you take notice in his facial features, noticing his wrinkles around his eyes and his blonde eyelashes, his little black hat that he always wears on his head. he was handsome when he was serious, but also he was deadly.

he out of nowhere suddenly grabs you and throws you over his shoulder, making you let out a scream. “art!! what the fuck!” you’re then taken upstairs to y’all’s shared room, as he throws you on the bed. he takes this chance to guide his hands down to your legs, before spreading them open for him. art has this problem where he randomly gets horny, but i guess you did wear the costume on purpose or whatever…but that’s not important right now. you take a look at arts pants, seeing a boner forming. i guess dressing up as him did work. you can’t help but crack a smirk at that. you’ve been waiting all damn day for this moment, so why not enjoy every bit of it. art then starts kissing you up your neck, you feel him leaving hickeys or at least trying too anyway. you slightly moan feeling his tongue slide over your delicate skin. art takes advantage of this, sliding his hand inside of your panties, immediately attaching his ring and minder finger to your swollen clit. “oh!”

you then put your hands on his back, grabbing the zipper to his costume and unzipping it. “baby, let me take this off of you.” he ignores your request by pressing his fingers against your clit harder. a couple minutes later and you’re on the edge of your first orgasm of the day. “baby, i’m gonna cum please don’t stop.” he looks at you and cracks that certain smile that lets you know he might stop at any given moment. you beg him not to, wanting to let your orgasm ride out. he finally rolls his eyes and let’s you cum all over his fingers. it feels so good, you can’t describe how much pleasure he makes you have. someone so cruel and sick like him has your toes curling and back arching. it’s a blessing and a curse. he slowly removes his hand from your underwear, bringing his fingers to his mouth. he shoves them in, tasting your wetness on his tongue. he acts like you’re some sort of drug, he’s addicted to your pussy, it’s his favorite dessert after a long hard day.

his head somehow was now deep between your legs, licking up your pussy lips. the way his tongue dances on your clit makes you think he needs it. he acts like he does. your head was thrown back into the bed, and it felt so fucking good you couldn’t even moan properly. black and white face paint spread all over your inner thighs, but you didn’t care. all you cared about was cumming all over his face. “fuck!” you started grinding over his wet mouth, feeling your second orgasm approaching by the second. it was getting to much to the point where your legs started to shake like no other. what type of spell does he have on you? how does he know how to make you cum so fucking fast? you know you have no answers to those questions. you moan his name like a chant, as you finally let yourself go for the second time. your body couldn’t take it, you were so sensitive and he knew that.

as you’re trying to calm down from your orgasm, art didn’t even give you the time to before he lined his cock up with your entrance. “baby, i can’t take all of this at once.” once again, he ignored you and slide right in. your eyes had a mind of their own as they rolled in the back of your skull. his dick was so good, he’s fucks you like his life depends on it. he knew exactly where your g spot was and always abused that spot each chance he gets. you loved when he marked you as his, the way his cum filled you to the brim and you watched it drip out of you. “yes baby, give it to me! harder!” you moan his name again as skin on skin could be heard from everywhere, his balls slapping your ass. not to long later you feel art slow down his pace, telling you he’s about to cum. you always want him to cum inside so you bring him closer to you than he was already. arts legs started shaking against you. you’re cumming. it’s uncontrollable at this point, feeling your body go limp under him.

you wonder, does he actually know how much you mean to him. does he feel the same way?

hope this was to your liking!! let me know if you enjoyed :)

#slashers #slashers x reader #art the clown #slashers x y/n #art the clown x you #art the clown x reader #terrifier 2 #terrifier x reader #art the clown terrifier #terrifier art the clown #smut

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girliism · 4 months ago

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senior year was all you and your best friends art and patrick dreamed out. but since you’re threesome became a twosome senior was not what you dreamed.

art spent the first month ignoring you and patrick which was hard given you all had the same classes. patrick was trying to pretend it didn’t hurt him as much as it did but you can only pretend for so long.

the two of you were at his house doing homework. patrick sitting on his bed and you in his squeaky desk chair. “can please stop squeaking.” patrick said very annoyed. you stop your movement. “sorry” you mumble. patrick sighs upset at himself for his outburst. “i didn’t burst at you tennis just sucked today.” you spin around in your chair and crawl onto the bed to take place in his lap. “what happened?” you question pushing your forehead against his. “art traded me for someone else to double with.” art and patrick have been double partners since forever. they never switched not even when patrick kissed art when they were 12 and art punced him in the face and didn’t talk to him for weeks.

you were getting sick of the silent treatment. you missed your best friend you missed art. you missed being with the both of them.

“ok class, today i don’t feel like teaching you so we’re gonna play dodgeball. girls to the left boys to the right.” dodgeball was supposed to be banned in school for promoting violence but your gym teacher could care less. “have we as a society been pushed so far back that you must still separate us by gender in game used as an excuse to be violent.” some girl in class complained. your gym teacher got in her face. “either get to the left or fail my class. now remember nothing below the waist and nothing above the neck.” his whistle rang throughout the gym, and your body moved faster than your mind immediately picking up the ball and chucking it at arts face. “oh my god.” you rush over to him. “what the fuck?” art’s holding his bleeding nose. “what did i just say! jesus someone get this kid to the nurse.” “i’ll do it.”

the two of you walk side by side to the nurse in complete silence.

“you’re our third dodgeball incident this week. hold this i’ll be back.” the nurse leaves. the ticking from the clock cuts through the silence. “so um, how was your summer? is your grandma doing better?” you speak first. “it was fine and my grandma’s fine too. she asked about you and pat.” art’s voice was muffled by the tissue he held on her face. “what did you tell her.” art cocked his head up at you. “that the two of you ripped my heart out and stomped on it.” he said sarcastically. the two of you. art realized this summer that’s his feeling about you and patrick were a lot more complicated. maybe he wasn’t completely upset that you guys were sneaking around maybe it was the fact you guys were doing it without him.

you kicked art in his shin. “ow! will you please stop hurting me.” he lightly kicked you back. “will you please stop being so annoying about this or does a nearly lifelong friendship mean nothing to you?” art wants to forgive you guys it kills him inside, watching the two of laughing and hanging out when it’s usely the three of you. “i’m not ready for that yet.” the nurse walks back in. you and art just staring at each lips saying nothing but eyes saying so much.

“boyfriend.” you smile walking out of your house to patrick’s car. “girlfriend. you ready.” patrick hooks his arm around your neck placing a kiss on your cheek. it was senior ditch day and something you guys always wanted to do for senior ditch day was to go paintballing.

“you guys get an hour in the arena if you run out of paint balloons there’s extra room on the side.” the worker instructed us. “room for one more?” a voice says behind you. “art.” you and patrick say in unison surprised but happy to see he came. picking up on the weird tension the worker added. “also no sex in the arena.” the three of you share a look before heading in.

it’s been five minutes and no one has moved. each seated behind their own pillar waiting for the other to move. “will someone please throw a balloon.” you huff. “i’ll go first. art why don’t you stop being such a jealous pussy.” patrick chucked a ballon at art hitting his arm with paint. “why couldn’t you keep it in your pants.” art threw a ballon back hitting patrick leg. “why can’t we just have a fun time.” it’s your turn to throw ballons at them. “not until he admits that he’s jealous.” patrick steps out into the open. “what the hell would i have to be jealous of.” art steps out too. the two standing face to face. you peak your head up to watch the interaction. “i’m glad you traded doubles partners with me, now i don’t have to do all the work.” patrick stares at art. “only cause you can’t breathe without all the attention being on you.” art smashes a ballon right in the middle of patrick’s chest. “you little shit.” patrick tackles art.

patrick and art roll around on the ground fighting like children. “maybe if you weren’t so scared of your own feelings you would be with us instead of moping around like a lost puppy.” patrick says rolling on top of art pinning him down. art knees him in the back cause patrick to fall over. “fuck you, you don’t know anything.” sick of the both of them fighting you come out from your hiding spot. “would the two of you shut up.” one of them accidentally knocks you in the ankle causing you to fall on top joining in on the rolling. “and what about you huh kissing both of us and making everything confused.” patrick accuses, elbow digging into your side. “don’t blame this on me. it not my fault i want both of you.” the three of you stop rolling and lay on your backs looking up at the sky.

“what does that mean.” art ask even though he knew exactly what it meant. “means she wants to date both of us. freak.” patrick says adding the last part jokingly. you punch his arm. “but you can’t date two people just because you can’t make up your mind.” you groan coving your face. “that not what i meant.” you whisper. the implication of your words float through the air. “oh. i mean i wouldn’t mind you know dating both of you.” patrick understood first cause he too has thought about it. this was all too much for art. “you guys are insane.” art stands up staring down at you and patrick still on the ground. “why are we the insane ones? what’s insane is still after all these years you ignore what you feel for me.” patrick scoffs getting up to confront art. art feels like he can’t breathe and he breaks down crying. “shut up. i don’t have feelings for you i-i can’t.” you and patrick pull him in for a hug letting him cry out everything he’s been bottling up since middle school. “it’s ok art.” you whisper squeezing him tight. “my dad would kill me.” art speaks. “we’ll take care of you.” patrick says. the three up you stand there for a while just hugging before going to get milkshakes.

it took a while for art to get comfortable with the whole throuple thing. you guys told yours and patrick’s parents but were waiting tell you were in college to tell art’s parents though his mom had a feeling. “it’s so good to see the three of you together again.” arts mom set a plate of cookies in front of you guys before leaving you to eat them. she turned around suddenly remembering she had to tell art to call his grandma later but stopped when she saw how the three of you huddled together. your arm looped lightly with arts and how patrick ruffled his hair letting his hand linger longer than normal.

days blended into months and before you know it you and art were pack his car up to drive to stanford for early set up. “you know it’s not to late to join us pat.” you say wrapping you arms around his waist. “yeah i’m sure your dad has contacts there he could get you in easily.” art adds slamming the truck shut coming up to hug you from behind sandwiching you in between them. “as tempting as that sounds i fear life on the road to the pro tennis league is calling me.” you and art pout breaking away from him. “you’ll come visit us right.” patrick looks offended you’d even ask. “my two favorite people in one place together, i’m gonna be there every weekend.” patrick places soft kisses on yours and arts lips before pulls you guys into a hug. “call me when you get there.” you tell him ok getting in the passenger seat and art in the drives as you ride off sticking your hands out the window to waving until your out of sight.

maybe adulthood won’t be so bad now.

(and that is the end. the throuple continues to live happy and healthy forever ☺️.)

#girliism #challengers #art donaldson #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig #art donaldson x reader #challengers au #boy bsf!artrick

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leonw4nter · 7 months ago

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There Are No Cute Officers In The Station!.. save for one

RE2R!Leon x Teacher!F!Reader

“Tehila Kaufman.”

“Here!”

“Antonia Lange.”

“Here!”

“And… Sherry Birkin.”

The lack of a response caught your attention instead of her voice. You call her name again, looking around in the bus for any sign of the blonde 12-year-old. You observe each seat, counting and checking each student for any sign of Sherry.

“Sherry!” A classmate of hers calls out, shifting in her seat and pressing her hands into the foggy windows. You remind the class to stay put in their seats and be on their best behavior as you exit the bus to greet your pupil and her guardian, who looked a little frazzled.

“Sherry! Good morning, I was looking for you,” you say with a soft smile as you ruffle her hair which is styled into a braid paired with a strawberry clip near her temple.

“I’m really sorry, miss. The taxi we rode on the way here got pulled over by cops and it took us quite some time to find another one,” her guardian Claire apologized with a meek beam.

You smiled and nodded, understanding her situation; you have enormous respect for Claire, juggling an odd job along with college while also taking care of a 12-year old. Despite all the odds stacked against her, the teen always managed to make sure Sherry was ready for school, which included making sure she had complete supplies and was sent to school before the school day started. You reassured her that all is fine before informing her that Sherry should board the bus now since the bus is scheduled to leave for the Raccoon City Police Station soon to begin the whole-day trip.

“Bye, Claire! See you later! I’ll try to bring home a souvenir if I can afford some!” She excitedly beams, to which she chuckles brightly at. With one more wave and a hug, she finally hops on the bus and goes to her designated seat.

After doing one final headcount of all the students and asking any of them if they needed to go to the restrooms, you give the driver a go signal to hit the road. Since the elementary school was just 15 minutes away from the museum-turned-police station, you advised that the students take a quick nap before they arrive at the destination. You look back and see some students already taking their naps, though some were talking with their peers or snacking on some energy bars. With a small smile, you turn back to the brochure you were sent and go over the paper. The program would start with a quick greeting by the lieutenant Marvin Branagh before he hands over the main task to officer Leon Kennedy for the rest of the afternoon before ending the tour with a quick video presentation and an essay-writing activity on their experience. Since you went over everything that needed to be checked and there would be some moderate traffic on the way, you decided to also catch a nap of your own.

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After that short nap, you spent most of the time reminding the children not to touch anything they weren’t given permission to touch and to avoid bothering the other officers there since they had work to do. You also reiterated rules once more which included asking questions respectfully, asking permission to go to the restroom, and no rough playing. You considered it perfect timing when your reminders came to an end, the driver announcing that the class had arrived at the RPD. All the students pressed against the windows nearest to the station’s gates, oohing and aahing at the sight in front of them.

“That’s so cool! Look at that!”

“I can’t believe this place is a police station now. It still looks fascinating!”

“I wonder if there’s going to be any cute officers in here,” you hear a pupil giggling to her friends. You chuckle at her outlook on the situation before responding to her, her cheeks burning pink like her sweater.

“There won’t be any cute officers, Clara. Admire the art and not the cops, okay?”. She responded with a giddy grin and gave you a thumbs up, still giggling with her friends. Well, that was as much as an adolescent girl can promise but you didn’t mind too much as long as she didn’t get in trouble. After all, it’s not like you could judge her when you’re out on a personal mission to find a worthy bachelorette for your coworker Lilia’s affections; she could really use some help in rekindling her love life.

After a few minutes, you instructed your students to leave the bus in an orderly manner before lining them up by girls and boys in order to enter the beautiful station. The last thing people expected a museum to transform into is a police station and the RPD did a damn good job at it. Although much of the museum has been changed to fit a more police station feel, there were still remnants of the past museum that stayed like puzzle mechanisms, the statue up front, and the library that still stood according to the contractors involved in transforming the building. Those were only what you’ve read somewhere so of course, there’s going to be more locations within the precinct that were left unchanged during the renovation. Now that all your students have finally calmed down and straightened their lines, you begin leading them inside the gates and eventually into the precinct proper. The entire way to the large brown doors, your students quietly observed the various red and green herbs near the fences along with other ornamental flowers but occasionally oohed and ahhed some more, especially when officers started coming out of the door to welcome the eager students. The giggles and excited chuckles increase in volume, the electric excitement sizzling in the air– even the officers were excited, some of them also giggling and beaming widely; it seems like they’re just as excited as the kids are. Now that the class is right at the entrance of the precinct proper, you give them the cue to quiet down before greeting the three officers ‘good day’.

“Good day, officers!” They all greet in unison, genuine smiles on their lips. Their greeting pulls gleeful laughs from the officers before one of them speaks up.

“Good day to you as well, students. I’m Marvin Branagh, the Lieutenant for the Raccoon City Police Department but you may call me Officer Branagh. Here with me are officers Jill Valentine and Brad Vickers. They will help me in explaining the history of the museum up until recent renovations and then we’ll hand over the task to Officer Kennedy, who is waiting inside. He will act as your tour guide around the station– he may be a rookie but he’s well-versed in the rooms and artifacts in here so I trust that he will be able to execute his job well.”

The students nod, most of their gazes now peeled on the door instead of the officers. Jill chuckles and looks at you, giving you a kind smile.

“I guess you guys look ready to head in. Do you wanna head in now?,” she asks with a bright beam.

“Yeah!” Your students respond all together. Brad chuckles, giving Jill a friendly smack to the back.

“Hmm, I don’t feel the energy. Are you guys really ready?”

“YEAH!” They respond even louder, some of them cupping their hands to their mouth. Jill looks pleased with the hyping she’s done, giving Brad a confident look before she directs them in. “Alright. Let’s head in.”

With a small grunt, she and Brad open the doors to reveal the interior of the station. As soon as the kid last in line enters, you follow and take a look around for yourself. Your gaze falls on the ceilings and the wooden accents on the walls, stairs, and pillars before you really drink in the sight of the marble statue right in front of you. The Statue of the Winged Goddess is a lot taller than you thought, pictures now seeming to not capture the breathtaking marble sculpture. Even your students were stunned into silence, quietly appreciating the statue and the rest of the station’s wonders. “Wow, it’s so pretty” you think to yourself. “I should visit here again by myself sometime.”

“I see everyone’s got their breaths taken away by the beautiful Goddess in our station,” Brad’s voice snaps everyone out of their trance, you included.

“I get it, I was like that too when I first got there. Couldn’t stop staring and marveling at her, she’s a beauty isn’t she?”

The students murmur some “uh uh”s, unable to really tear their eyes off. You managed to snag your attention away from her, a little surprised at how your students were more enamored by the statue than the remnants of the museum that remained in the form of wooden accents and carvings on the Roman Tuscan columns.

“Alright, class. Eyes on Officer Vickers, he’ll be explaining the history of Raccoon City and the museum before it got renovated and reworked into a police station,” you say. They lead the students towards a room and they take their seat, sitting with their friends though you reminded them not to be too noisy.

“I advise that you take out notebooks and pens because you will have a written reflection activity by the end of the trip.”

The news of an essay activity due soon drew groans and complaints from your pupils but they still brought our paper and pens, ready to listen to the presentation.

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After the 30-minute long presentation on various facts and information regarding the city and the station’s history, Brad finally wrapped it up. In the first half of the presentation, Marvin left the room and went somewhere to go look for someone, Officer Kennedy you assume. Jill and Brad took turns presenting, the pair doing their best to make this as interesting as possible for the children to keep their attention hooked on the slides and the short video that will be shown later on. Jill and Brad shared stories about how they came to work at Raccoon City, their younger years, their experiences when they were rookies, among many others.

“Jill here nearly got crushed during an investigation up there in the Arklay Mountains, carried around the ‘Jill Sandwich’ nickname for a bit,” Brad reminisced with a wicked grin while Jill was in the corner, arms crossed with a smirk while she tilts her head down and shakes it, brown strands swaying along to the motion.

Some students giggled, laughing along to their jokes; though it was easy to make them laugh, you’d bet that their cheeks would hurt by the time they got home due to how wide they were grinning. Sherry was talking amongst her friends, beaming and whispering every now and then. She seemed a lot more excited than the rest, if that was even possible; she kept looking towards the door where Marvin left but you didn’t really mind since it didn’t look like Sherry was too bothered by anything yet you made sure to still look after her well.

“That is it for our presentation, how was it?” Brad asked. “Anyone got questions? Clarifications? Insights?”

“Calm down, Vickers. Let the kids choose what to answer man,” Jill teased.

Casey raises his hand, waving it in eagerness to share what he possibly has to say. Jill nods to him, giving him the go-ahead to speak.

“It must be so cool working here! I mean– you got cool lookin’ statues and puzzles everywhere!”

Brad nods, smiling sincerely at the boy. “Yeah, it’s cool working here but it gets boring sometimes. Sometimes the day is slow and police work isn’t all going on missions and shooting guns– there’s times where we just sit at our desks and read mountains of reports but I love my job.”

Jill agrees, sharing an experience of her own for a few more minutes before officially wrapping up the presentation. “Now that everyone’s run out of things to say and ask, it’s time for the station tour to be led by our own rookie, officer Kennedy.”

You hear the door slightly creak along with the shuffling of shoes, soft taps of the soles of their footwear against the marble floors. You turn your head to observe where the sound is coming from and you swear you saw the sun walk in clad in blues and RPD badges. You try to stop staring at him shamelessly, to not gawk with your jaw parted but you fail; the longer you stared, the surroundings blurred into insignificance and all noise died down, the cheesiest romantic song you know seemingly playing in the distance the more he walked. It seemed perfect that this tall glass of water walking towards the front of the class worked at a building that used to house the finest pieces of art; this man looks like he was sculpted by a maestro. He didn’t say or do anything but his presence commanded your eyes, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. He must’ve really had you under his spell since you didn’t notice your grip loosening on your tumbler, the metal bottle falling and creating an irritating clanging sound. The pretty officer whips his head towards your direction, his gaze aimed straight for your eyes before dropping down to the tumbler on your foot. Before you could bend down and pick it up before mumbling an apology to everyone, he rushed towards your direction to pick it up for you. Neatly trimmed nails and long, slender fingers wrapped around the bottle to hand it to you. As he stood back to original height, he locked eyes with you before extending his hand.

“Here. Cute stickers, by the way,” he softly whispers with a small smile. A warm gust of air escapes your lips, exhaling a breath you didn’t know you held. You could simply nod and look dumb in front of who is possibly the most gorgeous man you’re ever seen, what a way to create a first impression. You take the bottle from him, the tip of your finger brushing against his hand causing your finger to feel an electric tingle on where skin met.

“Thanks,” you mumble with a wonky smile. He nods at you before heading to the front to really start the tour.

“Leon!”

You crane your head to where Sherry is standing– or, was standing. She shot up from her area and ran towards Leon, giving him a big hug with her arms wrapped around his waist. Leon looked pleasantly surprised, returning her hug with a hug of his own, his hand around her shoulder. “Don’t worry guys! We know each other,” Sherry explained coolly. Leon chuckles, nodding along and confirming her statement. He gives her kind pats to the back, the room looking a lot brighter every time he chuckled; the way his eyes wrinkled when he grinned big reminded you of a golden retriever puppy, down to the color of his sun-spun hair and his overall aura. You had to blink away the trance he unknowingly set on you, turning your attention back to the students and the other officers in the room, acting as if your heart wasn’t rattling at the rib confines of your chest. You hoped that your cheeks weren’t a vibrant red, standing out from the rest of your appearance.

“Good day, students. I’m Officer Kennedy and I’ll be your tour guide around the station. Although you are free to look around and take pictures, I’m going to set some rules down for the class, does that sound great?” He throws up two thumbs up, looking at the children for confirmation. You swore that your nails would dig into the paint of the tumbler, causing the paint to chip away a little bit due to the sheer force you were exerting into holding on that tumbler just to stay calm. You couldn’t possibly have a crush on an officer in a station you visit for a trip! You’re not even sure if you’re going to come back here anytime soon! Now that the kids had given him confirmation, he puts his hands down, and chuckles a little more before continuing on with the explanation.

“As I’ve said earlier, you can take pictures and take sketches but please do not place your hands on the display, draw on any surface, or play with the artifacts. Most of these are old and possibly even the only of its kind so we advise you to proceed carefully. Everything clear?”

The students once nodded again, some students repeating “clear” back to the man in front of them.

“Okay. Now that that’s done, I would like to ask you to form a line outside the briefing room before we start.”

You direct the students to get up and form a line of two but surprisingly, Leon helps you even if the task doesn’t seem to be bothering you. He shoots you a small smile as he continues to assist you in arranging the students, which didn’t take much. Now that everyone was arranged accordingly, he began to lead the class around the station while receiving smiles and thumbs-up from his coworkers who seemed to be hyping him up while Marvin looked on proudly. You smiled at the thought since it was nice that they all seemed to have a bond closer than you thought. Leon was just about to look ahead again, turning his head back to face the corridor ahead when he caught your gaze.. He held eye contact for a little bit before breaking away and you swear you left behind your soul downstairs. This is going to be one interesting trip, especially with a charming officer charming his way into your heart.

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All went smoothly until you noticed the line looking a little too odd. Well, that’s because someone happened to be missing. The moment you realized that someone had managed to slip away and wander into the myriad of rooms in the upper floors of the station. As soon as you noticed, you made the children neaten up their line before giving Leon a tap on the shoulder.

“Officer,” you whispered. “I’ve got a missing student! I don’t know where they are, probably in one of the rooms. I swear I saw them just a few moments ago, must’ve slipped away.”

His eyes widen but not before he takes one more glance at the line of children, curious as to why the productive tour suddenly stopped. Some students seemed to have picked up on a missing student, asking where their peer might’ve gone off to. Leon places a reassuring hand on your shoulder before reaching into his walkie-talkie to radio to the other officers to look for a missing student, giving descriptions of their hair color and clothing. The tour had to be put on hold, Leon directing them back to the holding area and making sure no one else slipped off. Leon took your hand and looked into your eyes, determination and hope shining bright in those eyes of his. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, instructing you to stay with your students for the meantime.

“Don’t worry, miss. We’ll find them in no time. In the meantime, please ask officer Bass to reach into the drawer to my right and get the bags of mini donuts. The kids deserve a snack.”

He nodded and began to walk off before turning around to face you again. “Help yourself to some too. It’s been quite the morning.”

As soon as he left, another officer came in. “Bass”, his patch reads. Leon must've called his attention before he left, telling him to come in. You told the officer about Leon’s directions, disappearing through the door before coming back in with bags of mini donuts for the class. You open up bags and instruct students to take what will satisfy their hunger, making sure that there’s other pieces for other students. You decided not to have some, anxiety disabling your ability to feel hunger at the moment. You can only hope that this issue is resolved before parents get involved.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

“Miss Y/N. Found them,” Leon says. His large hand is on the student’s shoulder, the student looking a little sheepish after realizing he got the class worried. They were fiddling with the straps of their bags, gaze downcast towards the ground as the officer walked him towards you. “Found them in the entomology room, was sketching some beetles.”

You walk towards your student, checking around if they lost anything or appeared injured even if they were just sketching some insects.

“Are you alright? When did you slip away from the rest of the line?” you softly ask. “Why didn’t you ask permission?”

Your student stayed silent, a little too shy to answer any questions for now. Eventually, they spoke up but in a hushed voice.

“I got a little distracted with the longhorn beetle display and forgot to tell everyone else that I was there at the insect-display room,” they explain. “I didn’t mean to make everyone worried and I’m sorry for causing a fuss all over the station.”

Leon chuckled softly and bent down to his level, a kind smile displayed on his face. “Hey, it's fine. Just make sure to tell your teachers or any adults if you’re going to go somewhere, okay? Nice drawing back there though. You’ve got a knack for art.”

The student smiles a little bit though they’re still stiff. You lead them to the rest of the group, the tour day ending. Some students pass a few mini donuts in their direction. You finally call up the driver to come pick everyone up and go back to the school, where their guardians will fetch their children.

“I don’t think you had a donut,” Leon asks with a boyish grin.

“Yeah. I didn’t,” you softly respond.

“Anxious?”

“Yeah. Well, I was because that’s my student and how could I be so careless to let something like this happen?”

Leon stays silent, standing right beside you as he observes the kids along with other officers deployed during the incident earlier.

“They’re here now, safe and sound too. I guess this is a learning experience for all.”

His comment pulls a small grin from you. What he said wasn’t even remotely funny but it somehow made you smile. God, were you all sappy for him already? Well, it is easy to make you smile. Maybe you’re subconsciously using smiling as a way to calm yourself down and try not to be too overwhelmed with the incident from earlier.

“Well, since you didn’t have a snack earlier… What if I take you up on a donut run one of these days? Next week, maybe– or any time you’re free?” He asks. “I know a couple places.”

His cheeks flush to the shade of cold watermelons on a hot summer day, the sudden burst of color a contrast to the pale skin of his face. You noticed him fidgeting with a loose thread of his pants, a little nervous on asking you. You beam wider, accepting his offer and setting dates, exchanging numbers. Just as you finish writing down the last digit of your number, the bus arrives. Quickly, you arrange your students again and begin leading them out the station, reminding them to thank the officers for their patience and time.

“I’ll walk them out,” you hear Leon say to his superior as he accompanies you to the bus and helps the students jump up on the steps, reminding them to be careful and to have a safe ride back home.

"You too, miss Y/N. Have a safe trip back home.”

“Will do, officer.”

He takes your wrist and gently helps you up even if the height isn’t even that great to begin with. You give him a thumbs up before waving him bye. You’ve already made a mental note to come back there and sign up on an itinerary tour as soon as you arrive in order to take some time admiring the architecture for yourself but turns out you’re going to be coming back to admire someone who you wish will be all to yourself soon.

NOTE - This was supposed to be posted 3 days ago in time for my birthday but I was busy with so much school work, I wasn't able to post this on the date I set for myself 😭😭 My birthday was cool actually: I almost got lost in another town, I passed an admission test that I got sick and miserable for, and my best friend got me a Chris Redfield capcorom!!!!! Taking Chris wherever I go now like I'm out here greeting him good morning or good night before I go to bed 😭😭 I forgot to ask my mom if I can get a birthday cake so I was unable to print my Leon, Dante, Vergil, and Nero cake-toppers BUT IT'S FIINEEE. I was losing motivation due to being unable to work on this because I have requirements due and this fic was marinating in my document for 2 weeks so... yeah :| Fic releases will be less frequent since I've got so much things to do lately. I'm also still accepting requests so feel free to drop by in my asks. OH RIGHTT my team for our sports festival on dodgeball won despite having absolutely ZERO practice so I'm proud of that :) Anyways, that's it and thank you so, so, so much for reading my fics!!!!!! I <333333 UUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!

The dividers are from @plutism , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

#leon kennedy fluff #leon s kennedy fluff #leon kennedy #resident evil #resident evil 2 remake #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #fluff #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #re2 #resident evil 2 #re2r #re2 remake #biohazard

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bluesidez · 3 months ago

Text

Gym Rat Miguel Part 12

content warning: Miguel is very dramatic in this one, mentions of food

word count: 4k (SHOUTOUT TO MY BETA!! @slushycoookie 🩵)

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DISCLAIMER: This story is not canonical. 😒 Most, if not all, of the characters used are OOC. I literally can not stress this enough.

GymRat!Miguel who tries not to dwell on the fact that it’s been just about a month since he’s seen you. It’s the middle of the week and if he thinks about it too much, he’s going to go crazy.

It feels odd because you’re on the same campus as him. You’re not across the country. You’re not out of the country. You’re literally a short walk or drive away and neither of you have time to see each other.

He’s considering printing your pictures out and walking around with them like a forlorn lover looking for his lost soulmate. It feels like he’s back in his bedroom staring at your pictures for hours like a man at war aching for home.

He’s exhausted all of his options.

The couple-lunches have all been rain-checked, the weight of your workload trapping you in the Art building.

Your sleep schedule was terrible, if the late night TikToks and reels were anything to go by. He knew you had morning classes too so he could only assume you’ve had a few hours of sleep during the weeknights.

The weekends were for rest and he didn’t want to disrupt yours.

Your dorm tracked visitors which means he’d only have a few hours with you before curfew if you were even there.

GymRat!Miguel who misses you so bad he’s temporarily replaced his gym playlist for the one you gifted him.

His face is set hard, feet heavy as he sprints over a curved treadmill. After a few minutes he stops, takes a small break, and runs again.

Even the melodic and somber voice playing over a groovy piano couldn’t soothe his thoughts.

His heart rammed in his chest as sweat trickled down his face, his tank drenched and clinging to his chest.

Just a few more sprints to go.

GymRat!Miguel who slides the ear of his headphone off because Xina is standing in front of him, blocking his path.

“Anymore sprints and you’re going to pass out,” she hands him a towel.

“Maybe I want to,” Miguel grumbles, nabbing the towel and rubbing his face like someone spit on it.

Xina grabbed her ponytail and pinned it up, loose hair sticking to her neck. “Don’t say that. It’s not funny. I can only manage pulling your body to the entrance to the gym.”

Miguel snorted.

GymRat!Miguel who fills up the time that he used to spend with you to get to know his friends and meet others.

This meant having game nights with Peter and Ben. They were so close, not really, to convincing him to join their DND parties.

If he wasn’t with them, he was occasionally calling The Geek Squad and catching up. A Friendsgiving date was now tentatively on his calendar because of it.

Of course, his robotics team was still going steady. Aaron was interesting, if nothing else, and Margo was like the little sister he never had.

Then, there was checking up on Gabriel like a Tamagotchi. Was he eating ok? Did he need some money? Is he trapped in the subway? Did a rat eat him?

Gabriel had sent him a screenshot of his contact with his name being changed to “Mom #2.”

Miguel only scoffed and told Gabriel his name was going to get changed to “pain in my ass.”

The newest development, however, was Xina. Her transferring here felt like middle school when they used to be attached at the hip.

They had their programming class together two days out of the week, biweekly study sessions, and the occasional late night excursion.

It also explains why she’s eyeing him from the stairmaster while he heaves over the handles of the treadmill.

GymRat!Miguel who thanked Xina as she handed him his jug of water. He sat up from the bench to let her take a seat.

“So,” she started.

“I’m not helping you hack your professor’s dashboard. While you could do it, it’s not a good idea and quantum physics isn’t that-“

“It’s not that, you dick,” Xina pinched his side. “It’s you. What’s up with you?”

“Nothing is up with me.”

“Miguel.”

“Xina.”

“Now, you’re being a brat. Something is definitely wrong.”

Miguel picked at the peeling Game Over sticker on his bottle. He needed to tape it down or he’d lose it.

“I miss her.”

“Miss who? Your mom?”

“What? No. I miss my girlfriend.”

It was quiet between them, the sound of chatter and the clanking of equipment filled the white noise.

Xina tilted her head, “That bad?”

Miguel nods.

“When’s the last time you saw her?”

He takes a dramatic breath, “Our anniversary date. Last month. I feel…”

“Like you can’t function? Like it’s hard to think?”

“Is that pathetic?” Miguel winces. “I have a feeling you’re going to say that it is.”

“No, I don’t think that.”

Miguel pouts as he looks up. Xina shrugs and slides her hands on down her leggings.

“Remember the times I went boy crazy? All the times I came crying to you after they screwed me over, even when you already warned me they weren’t good guys? I think you deserve to be crazy about your girlfriend.”

“Thanks,” Miguel blinked. “You were way too nice to those first guys.”

“I learned though, didn’t I? I know a good guy when I see him, now,” Xina pushed at Miguel’s shoulders with hers.

“And now those self-defense lessons won’t go to waste, right?”

Xina snorted as she recalled the time she managed to flip Winston on his back at Miguel’s instruction.

GymRat!Miguel who watches Xina’s eyes grow in shock when he tells her how long he’s been dating you.

“Dang,” Xina stops in her tracks. “A year?”

Miguel puffs up his chest and stands a little straighter, a confident stride in his step, “One year and counting.”

“That’s,” Xina turns and waits for a car to go by. She readjusts her gym bag. “That’s awesome, Hare-Hare.”

GymRat!Miguel who feels the mood shift by the time he drops Xina back off. He’s not sure what’s brought it up, but now he’s nervous about upsetting her more.

He taps on the wheel, after he pulls into a park.

“You sure you don’t want me to get you anything? You don’t need to go anywhere?”

Xina unbuckles her seatbelt, “Nope. All good. See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” he watches her close the door before he can even finish. “See you.”

GymRat!Miguel who obliges when Xina texts him the next day to switch up their study session location.

Miguel wanted to keep the busy calm of the 1st floor of the library but Xina insisted on giving him a change of scenery.

“It’s good for you! You stare at the screen all day when you’re coding,” Xina slams Miguel’s car door to which he sneer at her for. “You need to look up and smell the coffee sometimes.”

“You just want a reason to not do your work.”

Xina turns around and walks backwards in front of Miguel, “And that’s completely fine. We should live a little.”

She trips over the edge of the sidewalk with a yelp and Miguel is quick to catch her, the panic on his face evident.

“See,” she grins as she pulls herself up by Miguel’s shoulders. “Living!”

GymRat!Miguel who lets Xina order for him while he finds a table.

The cafe was bright, white wood accenting the walls with vines and plants adorning the area. Salmon pink brought a pop of color to the sandy-looking tables and fairy lights hung in the corners of the room.

Miguel’s eyes grew as he saw the variety of desserts on display, his mouth itching to take a bite.

“No, no, no. Go away. I’ll pick something you’ll like,” Xina blocks Miguel’s lingering eyes.

Miguel clicks his teeth, “If it’s not good, I’m going to be really upset.”

“I doubt it.”

GymRat!Miguel who walks deeper into the cafe. He’s dodging ceiling plants left and right, but he’s sure that the best seats are in the furthest of the building.

He shuffles around a corner, eyes adjusting to the sun coming through window.

He blinks a few times and takes in the spacious area.

That’s when he sees you.

He walks fast, the strides of his steps wide.

The closer he gets, the stronger the smell of peaches builds. The sun was shining down like it granted Miguel one the greatest gifts of his life. Its rays danced across the spot that you're in.

He gets to your chair and pulled it out with ease, the sound disrupting the hushed corner.

A pen falls to the floor, voices are cut short, and arms are flailing but Miguel’s nose is buried deep into your neck.

Your arms tighten around his neck and your voice skips across his ears.

“I-” a kiss across your face, “missed you so much.” Miguel looks at you like you hold the stars in the sky within your palm.

“You scared the shit out of me, Miguel,” you say with no really malice in your voice. Your thumbs run across his cheeks, watching as he beams at you. You kiss him once or twice, heart fluttering as your feet dangle in the air.

“I hope there aren’t many people picking you up in the middle of establishments,” Miguel mumbled across your lips.

“Guys, there’s people staring at us,” a voice creeps in from the side of Miguel.

Miguel’s eyes follow it to see a deer-looking kid with hoodie pulled up over his ears.

“Who is this?”

GymRat!Miguel who is introduced to Miles, your freshman classmate that you’ve taken in.

He’s sitting across the table nodding along to you as you rave about Miles’ work. The entire time, his right hand didn’t leave your left one.

“So,” Miguel chimes in when there’s a pause. “Have you both been coming here a while?”

“Nah, I just dragged her out here recently. She never leaves the art building when a deadline is near. It’s kind of depressing-“

“You know, Miles.” You're holding back an eye roll. “There are times when you could just not talk.”

“No, actually tell me more,” Miguel insisted, attentive.

GymRat!Miguel who hurries to help a struggling Xina when she rounds the corner with a tray full of goodies.

A cinnamon roll, a lemon tart, a tall purple drink, and some warm tea is placed on the table while you and Miles clear the area.

You sit up straighter to watch Miguel pick up the tea cup and blow over it. “Tea? No milk with a pinch of coffee?”

“Amor…”

Xina looks over to his cup, “Did you want something else?”

“No, this is good, I haven’t had this in a while,” he takes a sip and hums while explaining to you. “I’ve been on this sweet drink kick since she let me try her frappe last year.”

“That’s rich because you always hated it when I got those.”

“To be fair, you downed like four of those in one day. I’m surprised your body didn’t go into shock.”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “Four in one day must have meant you were going through it.”

Xina smiles and nods her head, “Exactly. And I told him-”

“We’re not doing this,” Miguel grumbled and stabbed his fork into his roll. “Four was way too much and she was bouncing off the walls all day just to crash and throw up on my shoes.”

“I said I was sorry about that!”

GymRat!Miguel who cuts pieces of his dessert to feed to you. You look at him incredulously as he insists on giving you bite after bite.

“Is it good?” Miguel asks chewing his own piece. You nod and he grins, happy in the bubble he’s created.

When Xina reaches for his plate for a piece he slides it away with ease, a move he knows too well.

“Why can’t I have some? I bought it.”

“You didn’t even ask!”

“Neither did she!”

Miles leans over to you, “I feel like I’m watching a fight between me and my baby sister.”

Miguel is pushing Xina’s hands away from his plate while she laughs up a storm. You think that it does mirror something like Gabriel and Miguel’s relationship, but something about Miguel isn’t the same.

GymRat!Miguel who continues his Tom and Jerry act with Xina even when the food is gone.

They were bickering over some formula that you couldn’t begin to figure out by yourself. To Miguel, it’s easy. To Xina, the setup makes no sense.

“How did you survive Ivy League without me?” Miguel asks as he reaches over and erases an error on her page.

“Like I do anything else, with peace.”

“So what you’re saying is,” Miguel points his pencil at Xina, “you hate me and I am not needed for problems 4 through 10.”

“No!” she panics, pushing his pen back to the paper. “I need you to start this one. I don’t understand it.”

“We just did one like this, though. It’s just the imaginary number all over again.”

Xina groaned and slumped in her chair while Miguel just turned back to his on work.

GymRat!Miguel who peers up from his computer to watch you work. You eyebrows pinch as your wrist moves across the large sketchpad in front of you. Your hand is moving fast and you’re so focused. Miguel hasn’t seen you like this before. In your element.

He leans his head on his hand, cheek squished and staring at you like he’s never seen you, like you were something to be admired.

You were pretty today, a sweater with some cartoon on it and some jeans that flared out at the bottom. Your bunny necklace was dangling around your neck and your glasses were falling down your nose.

You push them back and a smudge of charcoal from moving Miles’ artwork gets on your cheek.

“Stare at her any harder and she might grow something freaky,” Miles whispers.

Miguel falters and grabs a napkin, leaning to wipe your cheek, “She has something on her face.”

GymRat!Miguel who tries to be even more discreet as he watches you fill up the page. It’s mesmerizing seeing what you come up with.

He’ll type a little bit then look at your sketches, he’ll click a few links then look at your face. Sometimes, you would catch him looking and smile at resulting in his heart picking up.

Occasionally, Miles would ask your opinion on something and you would give him pointers, the two of you discussing something about focal points and rule of threes.

Miguel just wanted to put his stuff up and listen to you all day.

“What are you working on?” Xina asks, her voice breaking the silence. She’s staring directly at your drawings, fingers tapping against her notebook.

You perk up and flip your pad around, “It’s some ideas for one of our bigger projects! The theme is reinventing a classic, so I’m thinking something like a spin on Lady Godiva with a haunted theme and darker palette. Or The Fallen Angel with a bird’s eye perspective of him on the ground.”

You took a breath and flipped the page, “And then there’s The Kiss which I wanted to actually do a glaze to really give it that ‘mosaic’ look.”

Miguel leaned in with Xina to take a closer look.

The sketch was exceptional to say the least. Miguel wasn’t too sure how the original painting looked, but your drawing detailed a woman wrapped in these angular, moving shapes. Her face was angled up and a far-off look adorned her features. To her right sat a man whose lips were on her neck and his attention solely on her.

It was soft, yet strong. How you managed to put so much intimacy onto a single page was beyond him.

The feeling of it was familiar and when he looked up at you, he knew.

Miguel opens his mouth, “It’s..”

“Boring.”

“Beautiful.”

He turns to Xina with a frown on his face as she flips back to the front page.

“I mean, I think one of the other two is better, you know? More of a twist on the originals. The last one feels safe.”

The table is quiet as Xina’s comment marinates. She’s flipping further into your book and Miguel promptly snatches it from her and closes it a bit harder than he needs to. Miles shifts in his seat, chewing on the straw of his drink.

“Can you explain why it feels safe to you?” your fingers pick at a nail.

She looks up, “Well, don’t you want to stand out? Out of the others, I don’t think this one is that unique.”

“The point isn’t to stand out,” Miles chimes in. “The assignment is about remixing a classic and all three of these do that pretty well.”

Your smile is small, “Thanks, Miles.”

“So which one do you think is better?” Xina asks.

“The last one,” both Miles and Miguel say.

“It carries the emotion of the original while also bringing more focus to couple rather than the abstracted cloth. You can see the love between them in a way that the original doesn’t have and it’s not even painted yet,” Miles talks with ease. “But! That’s just my opinion.”

“I think it’s powerful,” Miguel hums. “You should go with that one.”

You nod, thumbing over the corner of the pages.

GymRat!Miguel who watches Miles nearly fly out of the cafe.

Something about catching the bus to go see a friend perform.

“Poor thing,” you mumble. “He didn’t even buy the tickets yet.”

GymRat!Miguel who can almost see the stress coming off of you in waves the later it gets in the evening.

“Are you alright?” Miguel places his hand over yours.

“Yeah, I think I need a nap.”

“Need me to drive you back?”

“No, it’s fine. You need to drive Xina back.” You start to pack up. “I brought my car anyways.”

Miguel follows your movements, hands putting his laptop up as well.

He hurries to pull your chair out and you thank him with a quiet voice. He follows you from the table to the door to your car. The scene is almost comical the way he’s in your peripheral.

“Will I see you again soon?” Miguel leans on the hood of your car, body practically falling onto you in the driver’s seat. “We gotta set up a date.”

“I’ll see what I can do, baby,” you rub his face and kiss the kicked-puppy look off of his face. “I’ll text you once I get back.”

“Please.”

GymRat!Miguel who throws his backpack in the backseat and slumps over the wheel once he’s certain your car was down the road.

“What now?” Xina patted Miguel’s back. “You miss her again?”

Miguel just dug his head onto the horn, the effect alerting anyone within 50ft radius.

“Ok, ok,” Xina yanked him up by his shoulders only for him to drop back down again. She sighs and grabs the back of his head with a slight yank to his hair.

Miguel swats her hand away with a grit to his teeth and a pinch to his brows.

Xina only holds her hands up with a grin lining her lips, “Calm down.”

“You’re really annoying me today.”

Xina drops her hands and her smile falters. Miguel straightens up with an apology on the roof of his mouth before Xina picks back up with joy.

“What I think you need is an awesome rager for your birthday.”

“No.”

“Why not? It could be fun!”

“I’m all partied out until next year.”

“Not even with your friends? People from your department? A couple of classmates? The robo nerds?”

“That’s robo rockstars to you.”

Xina laughed and buckled her seatbelt.

“I think it could be great, seriously. We’re doing it.”

Miguel only groaned and turned on the ignition.

GymRat!Miguel who wanted to use his Sunday for relaxation, a cheat day, maybe a game or two with Gabriel, Peter, and Winston.

Instead, he’s lying on his bed listening to Xina rant about one of her roommates using the sink as a trash can.

“Like we have a ridiculously expensive trash can that’s less than a foot away from the sink. It’s a simple spin and drop.”

“Ok, I get this is really gross, but don’t you have other friends you could bother?”

Xina pauses, and points her finger at him, “Hey, I’m here to help you out. If I wasn’t here, who knows how down in the dumps you’d be.”

“This isn’t helping me.”

GymRat!Miguel who answers his phone while Xina has managed to pull Peter into a game of Overcooked on his Switch.

“Hey, Ma.”

“Miguel! How do I connect your father’s computer to the TV? He found a movie that we could watch but the screen is so small.”

“He found a movie but can’t connect cords?”

“Just answer the question, mijo.”

Miguel sits up, prepared to spend at least forty minutes trying to explain what an HDMI cord is.

“Yeah.”

Xina gasps, pauses the game leaving a displeased Peter, and hops into the corner of Miguel’s phone.

“Hi, Mrs. O’Hara!”

“Hola, mi dulce niña! Hace mucho que no te veo. ¿Que tal te ha ido?“ (Hello, my sweet girl! I haven’t seen you in a long time. How have you been?)

“Más o menos, pero me alegro de verte.” (So-so, but I’m happy to see you.)

“No, Xina! ¿Qué tienes?” (What’s wrong?)

Miguel just plopped the device in Xina’s hand, “I like how you both started a conversation on my phone.”

“We’ve got important things to discuss,” Xina waved him off while she and his mother continued to fawn over each other.

Miguel just slid off the bed and joined Peter.

GymRat!Miguel who doesn’t get his phone back until curfew hours are around the corner.

Xina and his mom discussed everything from reality TV to recipes to her time up north. Xina left happier than when she came in which Miguel didn’t mind. He just wished he could have had the room to himself.

GymRat!Miguel who doesn’t see your message until he’s about to go to sleep.

“Baby”

“Let’s do something together on your bday”

Miguel unpeeled his eyes and typed swiftly.

“YES”

“YEESSSS”

“Best birthday ever already”

“Someone’s excited”

“I haven’t even said what we’re doing yet”

“What are we doing”

“Tell me please”

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease”

“Mmm”

“No”

“It’s a secret 🙂‍↔️”

“I can wait”

“That you are”

“Sometimes”

“😗”

“But mi luz I think Xina is trying to plan something too”

“Oh”

“Should we raincheck then?”

“NOOOOOO!”

“I can do both”

“I’ll literally split myself in two”

“You don’t have to choose”

“My gift is small”

“I want you to have fun on your special day”

“Can you come to the party?”

“I don’t want to miss it but I’ll have to see”

“If anything it’ll be much later”

“As long as I get to see you I’ll be happy”

“Good night bebé”

“Night!”

"Love you"

“Love you more"

divider by: @plutism 🩵

a/n: I have no notes other than school is starting back up so my posting schedule will be even more irregular. 🤠 Please bear with me.

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