#look it was a stretch I won't deny it but my brain yelled TEACHER AU and what was I supposed to do huh

[firstelevens]

#42, sambucky!

42. "Hollow in the Ferns" by Craig Armstrong, from Far from the Madding Crowd

The siren of a passing firetruck jolts Sam out of what definitely wasn’t a power nap behind his desk. He shakes his head and blinks a few times until his vision clears, waiting until he can focus on the title at the top of Kamala’s essay. It’s fully dark outside now, and the fluorescents feel particularly bright in contrast.

The last thing he can remember clearly is marking a mistake in her introduction, but the paper in his hands is almost fully graded, comments in the margins and proofreading marks dotted throughout. He’s probably graded hundreds of these essays over the past few years, but it’s still mildly concerning that he could get through one on autopilot and not remember a thing.

He puts Kamala’s paper on the graded stack, scrawling her score into his gradebook before he turns back to the ungraded essays. He could swear that the pile has actually gotten bigger since he started, but before he has time to think too hard about that, his classroom door swings open and he almost jumps out of his chair.

With a scowl, Sam turns to the doorway to find an entirely-too-entertained Bucky Barnes looking back at him.

“How’s that grading going, Sammy?” he drawls, and the only reason Sam hasn’t hucked a rubber band ball at him yet is that he’s carrying two coffee cups and one of them might be for Sam.

“It’s going fine,” says Sam, as breezily as he can. “But if you’re in here keeping me from my work, one of those drinks had better be mine.”

Bucky holds out the bigger cup, and Sam takes it with an automatic thank-you. It warms his hands as he takes the first sip, and then it takes nearly all his restraint not to spit it out.

“What is this?” he rasps, holding the cup away from him and wrinkling his nose at it.

“Mint tea,” says Bucky. “You don’t need any more caffeine in you, Sam; you’re twitching.”

A week ago, Sam might have received this gesture with a sheepish smile and butterflies in his stomach. Today, it feels a little like an act of war: this motherfucker walked in with decaf one hour before the deadline for end of quarter grades.

Sam’s gaze moves to the cup in Bucky’s hand–black coffee, medium roast, like always–and for half a second, he contemplates snatching it.

Like he can read Sam’s mind, Bucky clutches the cup a little closer to his chest, which has the side effect of drawing the eye to his regrettably impressive pecs, and- and Sam does not need this kind of distraction right now.

“Thanks for this, Buck,” he says, because his mother raised him to be polite. “I should probably get back to these essays, though, so-”

“You can take five minutes, Sam,” Bucky says, and pulls up a chair in front of Sam’s desk like he’s planning to stay a while. “The essays will wait.”

Sam opens his mouth to tell Bucky that no, they very much will not, but his jaw drops a little bit as he watches Bucky pull the stack of essays towards himself and pluck a red pen from the mug in front of him.

“I- what are you doing?” asks Sam, eyes wide.

“Grading papers,” says Bucky. He only glances up from the essay for a moment. “Drink your tea before it goes cold.”

“Bucky.”

“Sam.”

“Barnes, put the papers down.”

Bucky sighs, but sets the stack of essays on the desk and looks up at him. “Sam, there’s an hour until your deadline and there are like, fifty papers here. What are you going to do, grade an essay a minute?”

Sam scrubs a hand down his face. He’s bone tired, running on caffeine and fumes, and he’d be lying if there wasn’t a part of him silently raging over the fact that all the teachers who pulled him away from his grading and planning periods are nowhere to be found when he needs help.

“Don’t you have your own grades to turn in?” he asks.

“I copped out and gave them a multiple choice test for this unit.” Bucky shrugs. “Took all of half an hour to grade. So can I help or not?”

“How do I know your grading will be up to my standards?” asks Sam, but he’s fighting the beginnings of a smile as he says it. “Have you even read the book?”

“Junior year, Industrial England in the Literary Imagination. We did Oliver Twist, too, but I’m pretty sure I just watched the movie for that one,” Bucky says, grinning. “And don’t pretend you don’t have a ridiculously detailed rubric tailored to this exact assignment; I don’t think I could mess it up if I tried.”

Sam takes a moment to wonder whether he’s really become that predictable, then hands over some blank rubrics. “No editorializing in the margins,” he says, “and highlight at least one area of strength in every paper, even if it’s got a failing grade.”

“Yes, sir,” says Bucky, saluting him with the pen, and if Sam spends the rest of the hour stealing glances at him between grading essays, that’s nobody’s business but his own.

[vuhtterlly]

Overwhelmed

Who: Geto Suguru x GN! Reader

Warnings: Comfort. Slightly reckless driving. Light angst? Grammatical Errors. A tiny, tiny, TINY spoiler.

A/N: This is inspired by true events. Unloading is not easy, and we get so wrapped up trying to ignore that it's okay to be vulnerable. It's okay to cry when you don't know the reason and seek comfort from the person you trust the most.

Summary: You have to be fine, not for everyone's sake but for yourself. So, why after tonight's event, you find yourself crying and conflicted to call for help. Though someone notices your behavior and does not hesitate to be there for you.

Muffled voices surrounded you, but strangely enough, you can hear what they are saying. You laugh when everyone does, you answer when someone asks you things, but behind that smile, you were lost. It was like if your body was on autopilot.

You look at your watch, and it was getting late. "I'm sure everyone still wants to hear how great you are, but we have students to teach early tomorrow," you got up from your seat.

"Oh, come on, Y/N! Don't be a party pooper. I'm sure we can still hang a couple more minutes," Gojo pleaded.

You shook your head and gave an apologetic smile to the waitress who has been waiting to clean the table.

"They're right, Gojo. Can't you see it's time to close! Plus, we see each other every day." The black hair man scolded the pouting white-haired man.

Gojo pouted and got up, "You three go ahead. I'll pay for our meal."

Shoko was already walking ahead and pulling out her smokes. Geto walked a bit further but noticed how you were walking slow and looking at your surroundings. It was as if you were trying to distract yourself.

He opened the door and hold it for you.

"Hey, are you okay?" He stood next to you as you took your keys out of your pocket.

You scrunched your eyebrows, "Yeah, why wouldn't I be."

He shrugged, "Just asking." Though he knew that you were lying but didn't push anymore.

The four of you came in separate cars, but Gojo and Geto came together.

"Ah! I guess he's up to his antics again," You pointed at the window.

Shoko and Geto looked in your pointed direction. They see Gojo flirting with the young waitress. The three of you sigh, and Shoko decided to go back in to drag Gojo away from the poor woman.

You yawned and stretch out your limbs.

Geto chuckled, "I guess you should head out before you fall asleep here."

You hummed in agreement.

"Come on. I'll walk you to your car." He nodded towards where your car is parked.

As the two of you were walking, you were questioning if you should ask him if he wants to go with you, but your automated brain wasn't letting you.

Geto could have asked you if he could go with you, but he knew that something was going on with you, and you needed some space. Though that didn't stop him from worrying.

You got in your car. Before Geto closed the door for you, he stared at you.

"Umm, Sugu?" You asked nervously. Squirming at his intense gaze.

He shook his head, "Sorry! Are you sure you able to drive? I know you struggle driving at night." He wanted to stall, anything to be by your side.

You gave a reassuring smile. "I'll be fine! The campus is close by. I can make it! Besides, you have me in find friends. So, if anything, just look where I am at."

That's the thing he doesn't want to resort to that. He wants to believe that you'll be fine, but his gut is warning him that he should be with you.

He nodded, agreeing with your last statement, "Please drive safe then. Text me once you're close by."

He lets you close the door, his eyes not leaving your car as it drives away.

*******

A shaky breath leaves your trembling lips, and in a millisecond, a sob came afterward.

You were driving to an intersection, and it's your turn to make a stop. You were about to make a left, but your head wasn't letting you think straight. You were so caught up sobbing that you didn't properly look at both sides and almost hit a car.

"Clear your head, Y/N. You can't drive like this. Clear. Your. Head." You took a couple of deep breaths. Once the road was clear, you made the left turn, but you started to sob again. Your "Clear Mind" mantra was working-ish, but the tears weren't stopping.

Stopping at a traffic light, you started to rant, "You we-were never in m-my life, and you have the au-audacity to talk shit about m-me?! W-who do y-you t-think you are to say...to say th-that I've never done any-anything to p-prove that I can l-lead the c-clan. T-that I'm not smart en-enough to lead. I'm a t-teacher for fuck sakes!!!"

Your eyes glance at the light. The traffic light taking its time to turn green.

"Uncle, y-you are in-in no position to-to say that-that I'm n-not worthy of the title. B-because I am w-worthy!!!! I-I don't have sons w-who kno-knocked up and ha-have di-different baby mommas!!!! Plus, I ca-can destroy your weak ass sons!!!"

You reach to turn up the music. The back of your head wanted to deny this action, telling you that you need to let everything out. Though you just wanted to block your thoughts.

When your sibling found out about it and told you, it didn't hit like right now. In fact, you laughed and said that your uncle's sons didn't have anything compared to you. The elders in your clan already confirm that you were next in line to lead your clan. So, why is something like what your uncle said affecting you?

Shouldn't you be crying over your work? That there were innocent people you couldn't save, and their families blame you.

From taking your students to missions, making sure they survived, making sure the elders didn't touch one of Gojo's students, preparing to become the new clan leader, training to perfect your domain expansion, to go on solo missions. It was an endless cycle, but why are you crying for a small comment?

Could it be that you're just overwhelmed? That this is your body trying to unload?

Your thoughts were all over the place, and the music wasn't helping. The light turned green, but soon the road lights were fading, making it harder for you to drive.

"I can't drive like this," You let out a shaky breath. "What s-should I do?" You hiccupped.

You slowly pulled to the side of the road and parked your car. When you thought you had calm down, another wave of sobs burst out of your lips. Before you know it, you screamed, and punch the steering wheel trying to let go of your frustrations.

Minutes turned to an hour, and you were dozing off. Would it be a bad idea to sleep on the road for the night? Then again, you'll have to explain to Suguru why you haven't come home yet.

You didn't want to bother anyone, especially at this hour. You've learned that dealing with these emotions was best because who could understand you better than yourself?

Although...

You have friends who trust you with their vulnerability, but do you trust them with yours?

What's the point of having friends if you can't be real with them?

Aren't you the type of person friends come for comfort?

For once, don't you want someone to comfort you?

Lowering the music volume. Your phone was in your hand, and unconsciously you dial Geto. Biting your lip, you immediately cancel the call. You feared what he'll think or that he can't be there for you.

The ring from your phone startled you, he called you back.

You cleared your throat and swallowed a chunk of saliva. Hoping he wouldn't notice your broken voice.

"Hello?"

"Unlock your door." That was all he said before he hanged up.

You looked around your surroundings and saw a dark outline of a car parked behind you. A figure walked towards your door, and thanks to the moonlight, you were able to see that it was Suguru.

When he opened the door, your lips quivered, and another wave of tears streams down your cheeks.

"S-Sugu I-" You wanted to ask how or why, but he didn't give you a chance.

He leans towards you and unbuckles your seatbelt.

"I going to pick you up and put you in the back, okay?" His face was inches from yours.

You nodded and hiccupped.

He leaves for a second to open the back door and comes back, picking you up gently.

After he places you gently on the back seat, a voice comes from the direction of the other car.

"Are they alright?!" they yelled, worry hidden in their voice.

Geto pulls back and wipes some of your tears away, "I'll be back."

You didn't want him to leave; his warmth made you feel safe.

It felt like an eternity for Suguru to come back, but then you saw the headlights from the other car turned on and drove off.

You hiccupped, and the tears never seemed to end.

"Sorry if I took long. Mind if you scoot over." He said softly.

Your mind was back to autopilot and did what was commanded.

The two of you sat there uncomfortable. Geto did not know if it's okay to pull you into a hug, but he decided to do it. He makes you sit on his thighs, chest against chest, and he then pushes your face towards his neck. One arm is wrapped around your waist, while the other one is rubbing your back.

"It's okay to cry. But for once, let me hold you and soothe your raging thoughts, just like you've done for me. Let me be your shoulder for you to cry on, trust me with your vulnerability," he pleaded and hold you tighter.

You wanted to push him away, but instead, your hands reached to grip his shirt. You gritted your teeth and let out another sob. Suguru didn't stop rubbing your back and kept giving soothing words.

This craving that was starting to build, you didn't want it to end. You never thought that being wrapped in someone's arm can be so warm and slightly refreshing.

"Whenever you feel ready to talk, I'll be here with you. It doesn't matter if it's something small or silly; your feelings are important. Don't think that I'll judge you because I won't," he reassured you.

It took you a while to gain some of your composure back, but you manage to regain some strength. A shaky breath left your lips, and you pull back from his warmth. His hand reaches your cheeks and wipes away your tears. You were able to hold eye contact with him, and his gentle smile makes you feel at ease.

"Sorry for making a-a mess on your sh-shoulder," you reached to pat dry the wetness.

He grabs your hand and intertwines it with his, "It's okay." While the other one is still wiping your rebel tears.

"Umm, I'm-I'm sorry." You mumbled and looked behind him. Finding the passing cars interesting.

He knew why you were apologizing for and clenched his jaw. "There's nothing to be sorry... Look at me."

You hesitated, but he gently grabs your chin and pulls your attention back to him.

"I want to be here with you. For you." He squeezes your hand. "Remember when I was pushing everyone away, but you were able to see through me?"

You nodded.

"I didn't know I needed someone until you came, and you told me that it's okay to feel the way I was feeling. So, what did you do?" He said a bit humorously.

You smiled at the memory.

"You made it your mission to pull me out of that hole."

"I did it because I care," you unknowingly whispered.

He squeezed your hand, "Exactly! And guess what? I care about you too."

That word care, it was still foreign to you. Strange, huh? You care about others but have a hard time believing when others say they care about you. Maybe it was because people have let you down when you needed their comfort. Or chose to ignore your cries for help.

Yet, here's this man giving you warmth and comfort. Something that you have been craving for too long. It was still foreign for you, but your craving wasn't going to deny it.

When his hands cradled your face, your cheeks flared up. This type of intimacy was a bit too much, but you welcomed it. Finally, realizing Suguru is being genuine and not acting.

Tears started to stream down, and you leaned to hug him. The man didn't hesitate to hug back.

"I hope those are happy tears."

BRB I going to go cry now. Ps. I made it home safely.

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