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violetrainbow412-blog · 1 year ago

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A fair payment [W. W.]

Willy Wonka x fem!reader

word count: 1.5k

People who might be interested: @strugglingwriterwattpad @cattail5 [Timothée masterlist]

some minor Wonka spoilers I guess! If you like it, tell me in the comments, that will make me happy :)

“Can you mend it?” Willy asked, carefully holding his emerald green jacket that had the sleeve seam torn.

The boy had arrived a couple of weeks ago to turn the world of everyone present in the laundry upside down and, honestly, you were already beginning to enjoy his presence. You looked in the background at the blackboard that Noodle used at night to give him lessons in the hope that he would learn to read because, according to the girl's words, because of that he was almost eaten by a tiger. But in the man's words, what was important was the almost part.

However, tonight he had asked you especially to go to his room, because he had a problem that he thought only you could solve.

“I think so, I just have to pass the needle a couple of times” you smiled.

Since your arrival Mrs. Scrubbit had used your sewing skills for her own benefit, because after all you had ended up in that mess trying to save a little to be able to buy the necessary materials to make a pretty dress that would be worth enough to advance in the business. Although, obviously, that had not been possible.

"Thank you! I'm afraid that's my only jacket."

“It will be ready in no time. I’ll just go to my room and come back, okay?” you said kindly, placing the garment in the boy's lap and earning a sweet smile from the aforementioned.

Just as Willy had his little briefcase for his chocolates, you had your own, full of threads, needles, and buttons, which you just had to grab from the floor to get everything you needed. When you arrived back you settled at the little table and he remained attentive to your every movement, pulling out a chair so he could observe what you were about to do.

“There was a boy on the ship who helped me with these things,” he began to tell you, keeping his curious nose on your shoulder “But I never thought about learning. You know, for when I had to be alone”

“Well, it's lucky you ended up here. We are a curious collection of workers,” you murmured ironically, referring to all the people gathered there against their will by the work of fate "What did you do on the ship?"

"Cook. Mostly sweet things, but I also know a couple of useful non-chocolate-related recipes. I was the chef,” he said, and you laughed at the exaggerated way he pronounced the last bit.

Willy began to tell you about some of the adventures he had had on the high seas and you listened attentively as the tip of the needle went in and out to join the fabric. It only took a few minutes to get his clothes looking like new, taking the liberty of repairing other places that also needed it.

“Put it on,” you asked, trying not to look at him too much when he did so or pay attention to the way the jacket fit him perfectly.

"It is perfect! You can't even tell it was torn, huh?” he said with emotion, feeling with his hands as much as he could. “How much do I owe you?”

“Oh, it's nothing.”

“I insist,” the man murmured. His curly hair bounced across his cheeks as he sat next to you and he lifted his small briefcase off the floor, opening it to reveal all the little bottles of ingredients. “Your talent for mine. It's a fair exchange."

You had to admit that the chocolates you had eaten were a complete delicacy, but a part of you didn't want to get used to that luxury or you knew that when Willy was gone you would miss his sweetness. In the literal and figurative sense.

Locked in that laundry it was impossible to meet many people your age and Noodle was your greatest company, as if he were a little sister to you. But now that he was there, there was a certain happiness in chatting with him, much more now that his ingenious mind had devised a way to get you out of there even if it was just for a few hours to see the light of day and get coins from the sale of the chocolates to free you of the enormous debt to Mrs. Scrubbit.

“What flavor do you want to try today? Do you want me to add some unicorn skin glitter? Rays of sunlight from a twilight on the seashore? Tears of an African crocodile?”

“Just give me something you think I need,” you replied softly.

Willy thought about it for a moment, because it wasn't the kind of answer he would have expected. What was he supposed to give you that night? A little hope? Happiness? Nostalgia? It was difficult to decide.

Through his bright eyes you watched him reflect and just a second later his hands began to work. You noticed there was a hint of mischief in his smile as he poured milk, chocolate, and the contents of a couple of jars into the processor, glancing at you from the corner of his eye from time to time.

“What are you going to do when we get out of here?” he asked suddenly, not neglecting the tasks.

“Working in a sewing workshop, I guess.”

“Why don't you open your own fashion house?” Willy suggested carefreely, as if it were a very easy thing to do, “You are a great dressmaker.”

“And you are a great dreamer”

“It's my best quality,” he exclaimed, almost offended. You waited a moment before answering.

“I just don't think it's that simple. It requires effort, time, and a lot of money…”

“We will have everything,” he interrupted you, with that optimism that characterized him. Suddenly he stopped what he was doing and one of his hands traveled to take yours. “When I open my factory, we will all be able to fulfill our dreams. And you are going to have a fashion house, I promise you.”

“You make a lot of promises,” you responded, blushing.

“And he planned to fulfill them all. I always do it"

Maybe there was something about the softness of his grip on your hand or perhaps the sparkle in his eyes that made you look away out of sheer nervousness. He seemed to be good and innocent, to the point that he probably didn't even realize how close he was to you or how inappropriate the position would be if Noodle ever walked in.

A tap interrupted your moment and then he abruptly pulled away, excited to show you the product he had just made. It was a pretty circular candy that was bright pink and seemed to be emanating smoke from the inside.

"What's that?"

“You'll have to try it to find out,” he murmured, as he extended the treat in your direction.

You had to admit that you were somewhat curious to discover what the man was offering you, so you took it between your fingers carefully, and even under his watchful gaze you took a bite.

At first it tasted like ordinary chocolate, but then it took on a strange tone, which made you feel a certain warmth in your chest that spread to your cheeks. It was a most pleasant feeling, like bubbly joy combined with the embarrassment of a hug.

You thought for a moment about what flavor that could be, without any success, until after a few seconds you realized that it wasn’t a flavor in itself, but a feeling, an experience... Was it love that Willy had given you?

“How does it taste?”

“Yummy,” you responded, covering your mouth so he wouldn’t see the wet chocolate on your tongue, but also to hide your smile “Delicious, actually. What does it contain?”

“A special and secret ingredient”

"Oh, come on! Aren’t you going to tell me?”

“I just want to know if I got it right,” he murmured and you frowned slightly, not understanding him “About what you asked for. Did I give you something you needed?”

You had to bite your lip to keep from smiling again, your cheeks feeling hot from the simple fact that he was looking at you. You thought that this could even be a love potion that you had consumed without thinking about it, just because he was the one who was offering it to you.

“We could say yes”

“We're even, then,” he exclaimed as he waved the sleeve of his jacket and you nodded in amusement, eating the rest of the chocolate he had made for you.

A yawn leaving your lips made you aware of how exhausted you were and although you didn't love the idea, you knew it was time to leave.

“It's late, I should go to sleep before we wake anyone up.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Willy said quickly, getting up from his seat to accompany you to the exit. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Rest,” you said kindly, and, gathering courage, you leaned forward a little to say goodbye with a hug that he gladly returned.

As you walked down the hall to your shabby, damp room, you thought that it probably wouldn't have even taken a love potion to fall for the charms of the pleasant chocolatier. You just needed one of his smiles.

#wonka 2023 #willy wonka x reader #wonka x reader #wonka movie #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee x reader #willy wonka #roald dahl #wonka fanfic #willy wonka 2023 #wonka fanfiction #wonka x fem reader

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eternity-death · 1 year ago

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Penacony Reactions to you spanking them

No TW’s I think. Just sillies being silly. Established relationship with Reader in all these hc’s.

—————

Hanabi

Head snaps 180° at you and you scream.

She’s traumatized you and now you will never do it again.

This doesn’t stop her from getting you back, though. And she’ll do it in public to make it worse. It’s not a one-and-done deal either, it becomes a regular thing.

You’ve just sentenced yourself to a life of sore-booty and humiliation. Was it really worth it?

Black Swan

Stares at you.

Her expression is a little hard to read and the longer she looks at you the more you feel implored to apologize.

She’s not mad though, she’s actually rather amused. And she’s getting even more entertainment by watching you squirm.

Eventually she gives and just chuckles. If you’ll allow her, then she’ll give you a nice tap on the butt too.

Sampo

He does that one goofy (Mickey mouse) scream.

Very animated reaction. Jumps 10 feet off the ground and covers his behind. He looks back at you like a kicked puppy but you know it’s all fake.

Sniffles and says smthn like, “How could you do this to your best bud, Sampo?”

Gets you back when you least expect it. Like you actually scream bloody murder because your guard is down and you can’t hear him sneak up on you bc he’s light on his feet. It doesn’t matter if you’re in public either. Be very afraid.

Aventurine

“Woah! Getting a little frisky, eh?”

If you’ve got something separating you two like a chair or a counter, he will chase you around it to reach you. Spanks you back, harder, with zero hesitation.

He starts tapping your butt as a regular thing afterwards. Almost like a greeting.

“Hey babe.” Then a light slap. When he feels extra mischievous he’ll grab it.

Acheron

You are unable to slap her booty because she catches your hand before it makes contact.

Just kind of looks at you and goes, “What are you doing.”

You explain to her that spanking is a sort of gesture between close companions. She doesn’t quite get it but decides to just go with it.

Later on, when she greets you, she strikes her hand down on your behind so hard that your teeth clatter. She asks if she did it right with such a hopeful tone, that you can’t find it in yourself to tell her that shattering someone’s pelvis is not part of the gesture. (When she does find out that she’s hurt you she apologizes deeply and coddles you)

Dr. Ratio

Lets out a high pitched yelp.

Gives you the most scandalized look and defensively rubs his tush.

“Did you really just do what I think you did?”

Strategizes a way to get you back. He has a blackboard with physics equations for the perfect angle and fall of his hand, pinned papers and calendars with your schedule and his, etc. He’s terrible at hiding his intentions too. When the time comes for his revenge you already anticipate it. What you didn’t anticipate was how strong he was. You guess those biceps aren’t just for show.

Firefly

Why would you ever? What kind of monster are you?

She yelps and just stares at you; hands covering her behind, face flushed, and her mouth agape.

Apologize.

Sam

You have a death wish.

Another one who catches your hand before you can spank. He just puts your hand back in your lap and goes, “No.”

He actually just doesn’t want you to hurt yourself. His… butt… isn’t very soft, you see.

If you want him to, he’ll lightly tap yours back.

March 7nth

Gasps and launches herself at you with full intention of getting you back.

It turns into a chase, where you run in circles around the gazebo until she gets too tired and gives up.

You laugh about it but later forget. Little do you know, March has been scheming ever since.

“AHA!” You feel a harsh slap against your behind and yelp. The vendor you were talking to looks at you and your girlfriend as if you’ve both grown an extra head. She laughs victoriously, “See? I told you payback was coming!”

Robin

“Oh!!!” Gasps and covers herself. She’s a little freaked out at first but once she see’s it’s you she giggles.

You don’t really expect her to spank you back but she does. With the same amount of force that you used.

It kinda escalates into a competition where you two see who can land the most spanks in one day. Just don’t do it in front of her brother.

You’re losing btw.

Sunday

Do NOT spank him in public. He will be very crossed with you. Not funny did not laugh.

You may proceed with the spank if you are in private though.

He actually squeaks when you do. Then once the initial shock wears off he laughs, incredibly amused by you. Doesn’t say it but he plans on returning the favor.

When he does get you back you don’t expect it. You’re probably cooking or marking off the calendar when he passes you and goes, “Good morning, my love.” And then he slaps your butt. Moderate strength, enough to make you yelp but not enough to sting.

#hsr x reader #sunday x reader #honkai star rail x reader #Sampo x reader #Hanabi x reader #sparkle x reader #black swan x reader #Robin x reader #dr. ratio x reader #veritas ratio x reader #Acheron x reader #firefly x reader #Sam x reader #march 7nth x reader #if you’re like ‘hey I’ve seen smthn similar to this before for genshin’ that was probably me on my other acc #aventurine x reader

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versairic · 10 months ago

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Special guest | MV1

In which Max pays a visit to a primary school class to answer a few questions before the Dutch gp

In which Max only has eyes for the young class teacher

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

Today is a very special day. Your six-year-old pupils were particularly looking forward to this day.

The Zandvoort Grand Prix, which was not too far from the school, would take place at the weekend.

In a few minutes, a very special guest would be coming to your class - the lion class.

Over the last few days, you and your class have organised and prepared a lot to make your guest's time in class as pleasant as possible.

A satisfied smile sits firmly on your face as you walk through the rows of tables and put up the children's name tags you have made so that your guest can call them by name.

You then unfold the blackboard to reveal the colourfully painted greeting.

Written in orange chalk in the centre is the words Welcome Max Verstappen.

Your pupils have painted a few trophies around it, as well as chequered flags and racing cars.

A glance at the clock hanging above the classroom door tells you that it is about time for the first pupils to arrive.

Shortly afterwards, the first pupils enter your classroom with big smiles on their faces. Some of the children are already wearing fan merchandise.

After you have greeted each child with a quick hug, the rows of tables slowly start to fill up and an excited murmur goes round the room.

"Good morning my lions", you greet your class with a smile on your lips and a little chant of welcome comes back.

"As you know, we have a visitor coming in a few minutes. But before we get there, I'd like to go through a few things with you about how we're going to behave during this," you begin as you sit down on the edge of your desk and look around the room.

Yesterday you went through the rules for today with your protégés. It is important to you that everything runs smoothly and well today.

It's not a given that someone famous would take the time to answer questions in a class full of six-year-olds.

" Who can tell me the most important things to consider for today? "

Within a few seconds, countless hands shoot into the air.

Your gaze wanders briefly through the rows before you take a boy from your class, who lists all the rules to be observed for the next two lessons.

With a satisfied smile on your lips, you thank the boy and add a sentence or two, telling your charges that it's important that they don't talk out of turn and to please come forward if they want to ask Mr Verstappen a question.

You know that the class is pretty excited and probably not everything will go one hundred per cent, but despite all that, you're really confident that it will go well.

Some time passes, during which your class spends painting Max Boliden in bright colours, until there is a knock at the door of your classroom.

Countless heads go up and look over to the door with wide eyes, while one or two squeak out.

You can clearly see the nervousness slowly rising in each of them, even in you.

You wipe your slightly sweaty hands on your black jeans before a smile creeps back onto your lips and a "Come in" leaves your lips.

Shortly afterwards, the door opens and a smiling Max Verstappen steps into your classroom.

As he does every time there's a race weekend, he's wearing one of his team shirts and dark trousers.

"Good morning! "He beams as he enters the classroom and lets his gaze wander round the room.

"Good morning Mr Verstappen! "The class literally shouts in chorus, causing a proud smile to spread across your lips.

Point one has already been successful.

"Welcome to the lion class. I am Mrs y/l/n. I'm really pleased to welcome you here today," you greet the Dutchman and hold out your hand to him, which he shakes with a smile.

" I'm delighted to be here today. "

You notice how his eyes linger on you a little longer, so you clear your throat quietly and look back at your protégés, who are scrutinising Max curiously and whispering quietly.

"Look what we've painted for you! " shouts Leona, one of your students, pointing to the blackboard and presenting the colourful picture to Max.

"You drew this especially for me? That's really great! " Max steps a little closer to the board to take a closer look at the artwork.

"And we drew cars too! " shouts the next child and gets Max's attention.

"Did you design new liveries for special Grand Prix races? " Max begins to walk through the rows to take a closer look at the coloured-in cars.

He repeatedly takes time for each of the children to exchange a few sentences with them about their coloured pictures.

Smiling, you watch him and sit back on the edge of your desk.

A glance at the map next to you shows that Max will start by introducing himself and talking about his motorsport career. Afterwards, the children will ask a few questions and get autographs. Finally, there will be a little bobby car race in the schoolyard, where each child will compete against Max himself.

"You're all really great artists. I'll show my team your paintwork and I'm sure something can be done! " Max grins as he walks back to the blackboard with the pile of leaves.

Enthusiastic murmurs go through the class as Max begins to prepare for his little talk.

And shortly afterwards, he begins to tell your class, who are literally glued to his lips, about his motorsport career.

During Max's lecture, you sat in the back row to give Max enough space at the front of the blackboard.

His lecture was quite interesting, so now you know a lot more about the Dutchman.

The children had been so quiet throughout the lecture that you are really proud and shower the children with a little praise.

"And now we come to your questions. Now you can ask me anything you've always wanted to know. But think about your question carefully, because everyone is only allowed to ask me one. "

Max holds up his index finger to make it clear to the children that they are really only allowed to ask one question.

"Just one? How am I supposed to decide which question to ask? " Liana's sad voice sounded from the front, causing Max to start smiling.

" You'll manage that, Liana. Take some time to think of a good question," you reassure the little blonde-haired girl, whereupon Max gives you a grateful look.

" Who wants to start asking me a question? " As Max's gaze begins to wander around the class, countless little fingers are raised in the air.

One or two of them even start to kneel on the chair so that they can stick their finger higher in the air and be seen better by Max.

" Finn ", Max takes the first boy.

" Would you like to drive for Red Bull forever or for Mercedes or Ferrari? "

The Red Bull driver leans against your desk and rests his hands slightly to the right and left of him as he begins to think for a moment.

Your protégés look eagerly at their star and wait for an answer.

"I actually feel incredibly comfortable in my team and so far there's no reason for me to leave. I get on well with everyone in the team and we have a good working relationship so that everything runs as smoothly as it should. I'll never rule out a change, because you never know what's to come, but so far I can reassure you and tell you that I'm not considering a change. "

A sigh of relief goes through the class, which makes you grin.

In fact, most of your class are Max and Red Bull fans.

" Who is your favourite team colleague? " Joleen asks Max after he has taken her on.

"So far I've got on really well with all my team mates and we've all got on really well, but if I had to choose a team mate who I've got on best with, I'd say Daniel. The two of us not only get on particularly well in Formula 1, but also in our private lives. "

In fact, you've already guessed this answer, as you could always clearly see how well Max and Daniel got on and harmonised with each other.

You still mourn the time when Max and Daniel were team-mates. That time really was by far one of the funniest content times at Red Bull Racing.

A few more interesting questions were asked, which Max answered in detail, such as his favourite colour, which is blue, his favourite food, which was tomato soup and the question about his pets, Jimmy and Sassy two Bengals cats.

"Is there anyone else who hasn't asked me a question yet? " Max's gaze travelled around the class.

Even after answering countless questions, he still seemed pretty relaxed and happy.

"Mrs y/l/n hasn't asked a question yet," Johann takes the floor as all the children turn to look at you.

Max also leans a little more on the desk now as he leans forward to see you in the back row.

" Do you have a question for me? " he grins.

So you start going through all the possible questions that are floating around in your head.

There are a lot of things that would interest you, but they don't belong here right now, so you decide on the simplest question that any teacher would have asked.

" What was your favourite subject at school? "

" Oh, that's really easy! " Max grins and almost claps his hands. " Your teacher will probably rip my head off for this, but I never liked going to school. The only subject I liked was geography. What's your favourite subject? "

Countless voices start shouting their favourite subjects in confusion, which Max takes in his stride with a smile and somehow tries to catch every subject.

To restore some calm, you walk back to the front and start clapping a rhythm, which the children immediately follow and the class becomes quiet again.

A quiet " Wow " leaves Max's lips, who looks at you with fascination and makes the blush rise slightly in your cheeks.

"That's the best way to keep things quiet," you almost babble as you start to clear your desk to give Max a little more space for the upcoming autographs.

You had already cleared out your desk, so there were hardly any things on it. However, you now have to keep your hands busy to avoid blushing even more or doing something stupid.

" Please line up to get an autograph. If you have an autograph, please go and put on your jacket so that we can go out into the school playground straight away. Please keep your voices down," you remind the children, who shortly afterwards line up in front of your desk waiting to sign an autograph.

You take the seat next to the door to keep an eye on the children who are putting on their jackets.

The autograph session goes faster than expected, so that within twenty minutes all the children are standing in the corridor whispering in their jackets and then follow Max and you out into the schoolyard in a duck march.

Yesterday afternoon you had already set up a small parkour, which you will have to drive through today with the two Bobby Cars.

The red and blue Bobby Car are already ready and waiting to be used.

You had even made a small podium out of cardboard boxes and bought small mini trophies to give your offspring the full programme of a racing experience.

While the children would race against Max, you would time them and the three fastest times would end up on the podium.

Max grabs the blue Bobby Car, which just fits half his knee, while Aaron can sit perfectly on the red Bobby Car.

While the two race against each other, the children cheer on Max and Aaron in different groups.

The latter narrowly wins, as Max has a few problems with the only Bobby Car.

Despite all this, the Dutchman doesn't lose the fun of the game, so he competes against every single child with joy and fun, even if it's not enough for one of the three podium places in the end.

Standing proudly on the podium with their trophies, the three winners literally raise their plastic trophies in the air until a couple of water pistols are used to replace the champagne shower and all the children run across the schoolyard screaming and chasing each other.

Smiling, you look after your class as Max stands next to you.

"That was a really nice day. Thank you for preparing so many nice things. I really don't know the last time I really enjoyed a day like this," said Max, smiling and thanking you.

"I also have to thank you. You really put a lot of effort into my class. You were really looking forward to the day, which was a real success. "

You can't stop a smile from forming on your lips as Max gives you a smile and then pulls something out of his trouser pocket.

" I forgot to give you your autograph. "

The Dutchman smiles and hands you the autograph card before also grabbing a water pistol and running over to your class.

Confused, you lower your eyes to the autograph card, which shows a grinning Max in his dark racing suit.

You really have a great class.

Your lions are really lucky to have such a great teacher like you.

You've learnt a lot about me today and I hope I get the opportunity to get to know you a little better.

Why don't you write to me

01*******

#max verstappen #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #formula 1 #formula one imagine

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inkdrinkerworld · 9 months ago

Note

Maybe Spencer is having a bad BAD day, full on ptsd, and sunshine!reader is trying hard to cheer him up. It gets to a point where Spmcer just snaps and says something mean and starts a fight

Spencer can feel the bars around him. He feels trapped in his own mind because he can see that he isn’t in prison anymore, but his brain has been conjuring these vivid dreams of him being back and of Shaw sending men to beat him up.

Every night, the dreams end with Spencer never being found not guilty and him having to spend five years in prison and his eventual death from Shaw’s men.

He’s gasping and shaking and there’s a sweat spot on his sheets. He apologises every morning, you tell him it’s okay and that you’re here to talk. He never wants to talk about it and you never push.

He doesn’t sleep the rest of the night and it makes him irritable.

When he comes into work, you try not to internalise the way he brushes you out of his path as he beelines for the coffee pot.

“I already put your cup on your desk. With breakfast.” You try to temper your cheeriness when you notice the way his shoulders tense.

Spencer wants to be grateful, but all he can think is, ‘I can do it myself. I can take care of myself.’

He doesn’t say anything, not a quiet thanks, not even a half smile.

Your nerves are frayed immediately.

You don’t know what Spencer experienced in prison, he’s told you bits and pieces, the nicer parts of living in a 4 x 4.

Yet, you know the signs of PTSD and as the day drags on, you’re almost certain Spencer’s having a rough go of things.

He’s been snappy with Luke, nice with Penelope, and then flippant with you all over again. It’s hard not to feel like nothing you do is helping.

“We could go out to get lunch. From the place you like, the burger joint.” Spencer’s been slipping in and out of this conversation and the longer he hears your sweet voice, the more it sounds like chalk grating a blackboard.

At his silence, “Or we could order in? Whatever helps, Spence.”

Suddenly, his coffee cup is shattering in the wall behind your head and Spencer’s chest is racing. “Stop!” You feel hot tears prick behind your eyes at being yelled at; at work no less.

“It would help if you weren’t fucking hovering all the damn time. I can take care of myself, I don’t need your help. As a matter of fact, I don’t want your help. Go find someone else to be happy go lucky with, some of us can’t stand it.”

Your breath hitches, you’ve never heard Spencer speak with such venom. You reach a hand to your cheek pulling it away to find blood on your fingertips. Spencer must see it too because he’s on his feet, reaching for you as you step away from his outstretched hands.

You try to remind yourself that he’s just reeling, that he’s been having a rough couple of nights, that this will pass and that you don’t need to be mean to him too. “Fuck you Spencer.” The words are out of you before you can think about it much more. It’s honestly the nicest thing you could muster right now, embarrassment and defeat hot in your chest.

Emily and Matt rush in, finding Spencer tugging at his hair. Emily sighs as she sees the broken mug, Matt sighs as he notes your missing presence.

“Fucking stupid.” Spencer murmurs to himself, pushing back his chair, digging around in his desk for a first aid kit. “I’ll come back and clean it up,” no one is really listening. Emily will do this for him while he cleans up his other mess.

Spencer finds you in the bathroom with Penelope cleaning the little shards from your hair and cheek.

She glares at him and Spencer feels even worse; to top it off you don’t even look at him, just at his shoes.

“I’ll finish it, Garcia.” She stills, not knowing what to do. As she looks at you, you give her a little nod and she leaves, rubbing your back as she goes.

Spencer doesn’t approach you for some time, standing there like you’re the one who exploded and he’s waiting for another shout.

“I’m sorry,” he starts, taking up the tweezers Penelope left behind and reaching for your cheek. Spencer cradles your face gently as he picks the shards out. “I shouldn’t have thrown the mug, or said any of what I said.”

You don’t say anything, letting him continue. “You don’t hover, and I love that you’re always smiling and happy. It’s not an excuse but my dreams are really getting to me, but I shouldn’t have taken that out on you.”

You offer Spencer your other hand. You weigh your words, “No you shouldn’t have. I understand that some of what happened while you were in prison is too hard to talk about, but you need to talk to someone Spencer. You can’t just throw things and scream and then shut people out.”

He nods, “Luke recommended me to a psychiatrist for people suffering from PTSD, but I guess I felt like going would be me admitting that things there got to me.”

You sigh, “I’m not sure if I can do this if you’re going to shut me out and be violent like that.” At Spencer’s panicked eyes you continue. “I know you wouldn’t hurt me on purpose, but this unchecked shit is going to. Whether you mean for it to or not.”

Spencer opens the first aid kit and swipes at your cheek gently, grateful that it hadn’t been a deep cut. Still he knows the silver scar it’s going to leave will eat at him forever.

“I made an appointment for tomorrow at nine.” He mumbles, worry and dread eating at his stomach. “I know it might take a bit for you to trust me again-“

You roll your eyes, “I do trust you. I trust that you’ll go to therapy, use all the tools given to you and cue me in when things are too hard. I trust that you won’t do this again Spencer. I’m not going to punish you for having an off day.”

Tears spring to his eyes unconsciously, “You don’t want to leave? Because I’d understand if you wanted to.”

You kiss his wrist, “No I don’t want to. I know you’re going to get better, but if there’s a next time, Spencer I’m not staying.”

“There won’t be a next time, I swear.” He kisses right under your injured cheek, tender and soft.

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layaispunk · 27 days ago

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Teacher's pet

pairing: Professor!Joel Miller x Reader

summary: You fall asleep during Mr. Miller's class.

warnings: age gap (age not specified, but reader is in their 20s and joel is in his 40s), mentions of family conflict & insomnia, pet names, (darlin, sweetheart, honey)

wc: 1k

a/n: obviously ... inspired by the new pedrito content we got today

The low hum of Professor Miller’s voice filled the lecture hall, deep and steady, weaving through equations and theories about quantum superposition. He spoke with the kind of ease that only came from years of experience, his southern drawl giving life to concepts most people would struggle to grasp.

But you weren’t listening.

Your head rested against the cool surface of your desk, arms folded beneath it, as sleep tugged at your exhausted body. You hadn’t meant to drift off, but with the hall's dim lighting, the soft buzzing of electricity and Mr. Miller's voice ... it just happened. You hadn't properly slept in a while. Sleep didn’t come easy at home. It barely came at all.

And now, in the steady rhythm of Joel’s lecture, your body gave in.

You didn’t notice when his voice paused mid-sentence. Didn’t see the way his gaze lingered on you from across the room, brow furrowing. Most students in his class wouldn’t dare slack off - he had a reputation for being strict and demanding. But he knew this was different.

With a sigh, he set down the marker in his hand, rolling his shoulders before speaking again, this time a little softer.

"Alright, we're done for today. Don't forget about the test next week."

Students immediately began shuffling around, packing their thick quantum physics books in their backpacks. The shuffling of footsteps and quiet conversations faded together as everyone walked out the door.

Joel watched as students made their way out, but you haven't moved. While everyone else rushed to leave, you were sat there, with slacked posture, eyes shut on the table.

His jaw tightened. Something about it didn’t sit right with him. You were a good student, but you were struggling trying to keep up with everything lately, and he could tell you were burnt out. He leaned back against the blackboard full of scribbled physics drawings, as he quietly watched you. You were quiet- very smart, very hardworking, always paying attention. One of the few students who actually gave a damn about this class. Maybe that's why he'd taken a liking to you.

Not that he has favorites. But if he did ... well.

Joel took a deep breath and stepped closer, his boots tudding on the floorboards. He paused for a moment before crouching down beside you.

You stirred as he got closer, blinking up at him, eyes heavy, your cheeks crimson. He could see it now—the exhaustion in your slumped shoulders, the way you barely kept your head up.

He leaned in a little, his voice low, almost like a soft command. "Sweetheart, you with me?"

You blinked, your gaze unfocused at first. It took a few moments before your eyes finally cleared, slowly waking from the fog of sleep.

"Hey," Joel said quietly, not wanting to startle you. "You okay to drive home?"

You blinked again, looking up at him, and for a moment, you looked like you hadn’t had a full night’s sleep in days.

"Yeah," you said, voice barely above a whisper.

Joel raised an eyebrow. "You sure? I know we live pretty close ... I could take you home"

You hesitated, not wanting to accept his offer but not trusting yourself to drive in the state you were in. "Are you sure?"

"Ofcourse."

You nodded. "Okay. Thankyou, Mr. Miller."

Joel stood up, his eyes still locked on you. ‘Alright then. Let’s go.’

You took a deep breath, starting to gather your things, trying to shake off the fog that still clouded your mind. You moved slowly, packing up your notes and slipping them into your bag. Joel just stood there, arms crossed, watching you with somber eyes. He didn’t rush you - he knew better than that.

Finally, you stood up, your bag slung over your shoulder, as he gave you small nod, leading the way out of the classroom.

As you both stepped into the hallway, the silence between you felt heavy. Finally, Joel spoke, his voice low, barely above a whisper, "things bad at home again?"

You hesitated, feeling the weight of his question sink into you, but you shook your head slightly, eyes focused on the floor. "I don’t wanna talk about it."

Joel nodded, his respect for your boundaries clear in the way he didn’t push. His silence was enough.

When you reached his truck, Joel held the door open for you, waiting for you to slide in before he closed it softly. When he sat on the driver's seat and turned on the car, he cleared his throat. "If you want, you can ride to school with me tomorrow. Your car’s gonna be here, right?"

You nodded, still feeling disoriented. "Okay." You paused for a moment before asking, "Um, is there any chance I could stay in your class during lunch time?"

"To go over the material for next week's test?" he replied with a sarcastic tone. He knew you didn't need any tutoring for his class. You were his top student.

You raised your eyebrow, smirking. There was an unspoken communication between you two. You were completely transparent to him, and he knew why you wanted to sit with him during lunch time. He always knew. You had talked to him before, opened up about many things, mostly about the situation at home.

He offered that you could stay in his class as long as you like, and that he'd talk to the school counselor to excuse your attendance from other classes. You didn't like doing it often, because you hate feeling like a burden - though he had never made you feel like one.

Presently, he gave you a thoughtful look before answering. "'Course. You can hang around as much as you like, darlin'. We already talked about this."

You smiled, appreciating his offer more than he knew. You weren't sure how to thank him for everything.

After a few moments, you told him the exact street you lived at and before long, Joel was pulling into your driveway.

The streetlights casted a soft glow over the road, and when he stopped the truck, he turned to you, slowly, "I’ll wait for you here at 7:30 sharp tomorrow, alright?"

You nodded, smiling softly. "Thanks, Mr. Miller."

"Just Joel will do, honey. I'll see you tomorrow."

He gave you a small wink, watching you get out of the truck and walk toward your door.

He stayed still for a moment, eyes following you as you disappeared inside. Only then did he pull away, already planning on being there first thing tomorrow morning.

thank you so much for reading! reblogs are always appreciated ♡

#joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller angst #joel miller fanfic #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #dbf!joel #professor x #joel fanfic #joel miller x you #professor!reader

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grrrrrrrbarkbarkbark · 2 years ago

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My fiancee is trying to logically explain how magic works.

#walk into yhe gatage like what up blackboards full of him trying to rationalized my magic /pos #im glad hes tryong to interact qoth it instead of just denyong its existence like he used to

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llamagoddessofficial · 15 days ago

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Thank you @cari-canes for this delightful commission. I'm so sorry I went so overboard... but I just could not resist the opportunity to write the bad guys in the cafe au. Cafe au has got everything!!!

---

You unlocked the glass door and stepped through, out of the bitter cold, watching to make sure the little ‘closed’ sign didn’t flip itself over as you shut and re-locked it behind you. Though some dim morning ambience made its way in through the big front window, it was still pretty gloomy with all the lights off.

Honestly, though? You didn’t mind. 6:30am was a relatively late start for you. You used to get to your old bakery for 4 so you had all the time in the world to bake everything for the displays. A 6:30 start was a walk in the park.

First day nerves are normal. Just take a deep breath.

You put your coat on an antique wooden hanger by the door, and headed deeper into the still-closed cafe. It was a relatively quaint establishment, a medium sized room with about six tables of varying sizes. A nice oak counter, a glass case with room for sandwiches and pastries, a blackboard with coffee types lined up alongside chalked prices. A big pretty coffee machine with a shiny top. A sign on the wall behind the countertop declaring that they reserved the right to ‘remove anyone from the premises’. The only abnormal thing wasn’t even all that abnormal; most of the back wall was a continuous bookshelf, full of books of all different sizes and genres. The sort of thing that’d definitely give this spot enough charm to make it some people’s cafe of choice.

By all means, a perfectly normal, perfectly ordinary looking place.

... Nothing at all like its owners.

You moved behind the counter, floorboards ever-so-slightly creaky underfoot. The kitchen lights were on, you could see through the little round windows in the tops of the doors; someone was already in. The first day nerves kicked into high gear, butterflies making a racket in your stomach and throat... you kept telling yourself that you didn’t need to be as worried as you were, you wouldn’t have gotten hired if you made a bad impression on the staff. But nothing seemed to ease the anxiety that’d firmly lodged itself in your stomach.

You’d had other plans for the week. Nothing major - nothing that couldn’t be cancelled. But you had plans. Who wouldn’t? You lost your previous baking job with absolutely no notice, through no fault of your own. You’d been expecting to suddenly have a lot of free time you didn’t know what to do with. But here you were, plans cancelled, and little more than three days spent unemployed.

The hiring process had been.... Well. For lack of a better word, weird. Not anticipating any responses or interest but eager to reduce your chances of not being able to pay rent, you’d printed out your hastily-updated CV, taken your out-of-touch uncle’s advice and tried walking around town handing out copies to any place that let you breathlessly approached the counter. When you got to this cafe, a place you’d admittedly never even been inside, you had an experience that stuck with you for the rest of the day.

“Are you hiring?” you asked.

The server at the counter was a skeleton monster. You’d never seen a skeleton monster before. He had his hood up, but you could see sharp red eyelights shining out from underneath - they looked bored. By this point in the day, you had just about gotten over the jitters that had followed you from shop to shop. But this guy was bringing them back.

He didn’t say anything.

“Uhm. Can I give you a copy of my resume?”

...

He clearly wasn’t interested. You’d definitely had some half-assed responses, but no one had outright IGNORED you yet. It was pretty disheartening.

“... Nevermind,” you said, small. “Sorry for bothering you - ”

A delighted voice right behind you. “we’re hiring.”

Startled, you spun around. Wait - another skeleton monster? This one was the polar opposite of the guy at the counter, he was grinning from nonexistent ear to nonexistent ear, a smile full of pearly white teeth. He had a dark serving tray tucked under one arm. Somewhat alarmingly, there were large black lines running down from his empty sockets to his jaw, but living in Ebbott city meant you’d seen more than enough strange monsters. There were far scarier looking (but completely harmless) monsters out there.

“O-oh. You are?” you replied, flustered by his enthusiasm after a long day of little more than side-eyes. “I didn’t see a sign,”

“ain’t had time to put one up yet. your timing couldn’t be better.” He held a gloved hand out. He was so friendly - he looked so happy you were here. “i’m killer. that’s dust. ignore him, he’s a dickhead with everyone. can i have two copies? i’ll pass one on to my boss.”

“S-sure!” you said. Wow, what a positive response! You were suddenly riding a little high. You made a mental note to remember this particular place.

“we’ll be in touch,” Killer said, beaming. “promise.”

He wasn’t lying about being ‘in touch’. Literally the next morning, you had an email in your inbox, asking when you were free for an interview; when you politely responded that you were available as soon as possible the response came in asking you to be there later that day after the cafe had closed. You were pretty sure that by the time you walked into that building for the interview, most places hadn’t even read your resume yet.

And the interview itself...

You bit the inside of your cheek. That was a story for another day. You did your best to bring yourself back to the present. You took a breath, shifting your bag around on your shoulder, then stepping through into the light of the kitchen.

... Horror was the one already in the kitchen. Of course he was, he was the chef. He had his back to you, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows; he was kneading dough on a heavily floured work surface. Batch making bread?

He was a huge guy. That had been clear during the interview, but he had been seated for most of that. Now, with him standing? You got to see his full size and height. He must’ve been almost seven feet tall, his back alone was twice the size of you. You couldn’t help but wonder if he got his shirts tailored specifically for him... where was a guy that big realistically going to get reasonably sized clothing, other than someone making it for him?

You were going to be spending hours in the kitchen alone with him.

At the sound of the door, he looked over his shoulder at you. His big red eye took up most of his socket. The iris widened, just a fraction, at the sight of you.

“... you’re... early,” he said. His voice was very deep. He spoke each word like he was measuring it syllable by syllable.

“Y-yeah.” You fiddled with your bag strap. “I know I was told to come in at seven, but I thought I’d just get in a bit earlier. Get a feel for the place.”

...

“... experience?” he asked.

You tried very hard to keep you voice light. Perhaps too hard. “Lots. I’ve worked in plenty of bakeries and cafes before. What about you?”

He shook his head. His bony hands were covered in flour, up to the wrist.

You did a quick visual sweep around the room - the shelves full of perfectly organised and dated ingredients, equipment clean and sorted, shiny countertops, ovens you wouldn’t mind cooking your personal food in. The place would pass its health inspection with flying colours.

“This room looks... really good,” you said, honestly. “I’ve seen kitchens full of seasoned pros that look much worse than this. You won’t believe the state of some of the kitchens I’ve worked in. It’d make you never want to eat out again.”

Horror made a sound in the back of his throat. Then went back to kneading the bread, back to you.

...

“Hey, I... I know Nightmare hired me to be ‘in charge’ of baking back here.” Your voice was shaky. “But this was your kitchen first. I don’t want you to think I’m coming in here to move all your things around and steal your job. I’m just baking brownies and pastries, and stuff. You’re the chef.”

... He paused, turning fractionally, red iris catching you again.

Your employer was... well, you weren’t wrong about there being scarier monsters out there than Killer. Nightmare was a perfect example. You shuddered, remembering his cyan eye staring at you during the interview, flanked by the other three skeletons. That had felt less like an interview and more like an exercise in not displaying fear in front of predators.

“Honestly, I thought I blew the interview when I asked him if he only hired skeletons. But I guess not, since I’m here.”

Horror...

... Chuckled.

Phew. The sound visibly relieved you. You put your bag down. “Sorry. I know I talk too much. I’ll look around, give you some peace.”

...

“... i... like... when you talk.” He looked back to his bread. “... nice voice. fills quiet.”

You blinked.

... You got the overwhelming feeling you’d completely misjudged him. He suddenly didn’t seem quite so tall. Horror was clearly trying really hard; talking, laughing at your bad humour attempts, trying to make you feel more comfortable.

Was he just... shy?

... The smile you gained must’ve really been something, because you could’ve sworn there was a little hint of red on the high edge of his cheekbone.

“When you’re done with the bread, do you mind showing me where things are kept?”

This time, his smile was higher, and nod was much more resolute.

Just like that, you didn’t mind being alone in the kitchen with him. Not at all.

---

You and Horror worked like a well-oiled machine. Not a word needed to be spoken - you weren’t sure what it was, but Horror just seemed completely in tune to everything you, he knew where you were going and what you were reaching for and why you needed it. His huge physique translated into incredible strength, he single-handedly managed tasks that would’ve taken your old kitchen three people. When the ingredient delivery car came, it took all your strength to carry just one box. Horror carried four.

By the time you and Horror were done prepping, you emerged from the kitchen in a flour-dusted apron that was a little too big for you, really craving coffee. You were a tad more confident, glad to have made a friend, and you were determined to figure out how to use that lovely big machine. Maybe you could offer Horror something to drink?

... Dust was there. You hadn’t heard him come in. He was leaning against the counter, reading a book whose title you couldn’t see - sunlight was coming in through the cafe’s front windows, catching the edge of his hood and lighting up what looked like some specks of dust he hadn’t brushed off; it must’ve been late morning now, getting closer to opening time. You somewhat admired his commitment to dressing casual. He was wearing his barista apron over top a white shirt and hoodie, he was absolutely dedicated to dressing like he didn’t want to be there.

You paused just outside the kitchen door. Had you not just spent an hour with Horror, you definitely would’ve considered Dust an intimidating figure - now, though? He didn’t look like much. You hadn’t forgotten your first encounter with him, nor the dismissive way he’d treated you. But he didn’t cause the same pit in your stomach as he had when you first walked into the cafe.

You fixed a polite smile onto your face.

“Hey,” you said softly, taking one or two steps closer but still giving him room. You awkwardly put one hand on the counter. “Morning. You know how to use the coffee machine, right?”

His dark, crimson eyelights flickered up to you from his book. You opened your mouth, about to ask him if he minded showing you how it worked.

... Then he rolled his eyelights at you.

You bristled, a hundred different insults sprang to mind, but your ‘years of working with assholes’ instincts kicked in and your teeth clamped together. You couldn’t help the way your brows twitched, though. What the fuck?

His expression shifted, slightly. But you didn’t really care to stay around long enough to figure out how, or why. If he wanted to be like that, you weren’t going to put up with it, you’d had more than enough experience dealing with terrible coworkers and you weren’t about to waste a moment more with him. You just turned around to head back into the kitchen. After such a pleasant time with Horror, it was whiplash to be treated so badly. You didn’t even want a coffee anymore.

“told you he’s a dick.”

You almost jumped out of your fucking skin. It was Killer. Right behind you, in front of the kitchen door, where you had just come from. How did he get behind the counter? Flustered from being frightened, you put a hand to your chest and let out a few small shocked laughs. “H-holy crap. I didn’t hear... How did you...?”

Killer beamed at your laughter. He leant back against the inside of the counter, folding his arms over his chest. He was remarkably well-dressed, wearing a spotless dark turtleneck underneath his apron and a few silver rings on his phalanges, he stood in stark contrast to Dust. You could definitely imagine him being popular with customers.

“don’t take dust’s needlin’ personally,” he said, tone light and playful. “he’s like that with everyone. works at the coffee machine all day, an’ he point-blank refuses to ever make me or horror any coffee. we just gotta band together and ignore him.”

You couldn’t help but smile at him, letting out a breath through your nose, lowering the proverbial hackles that Dust had made you raise. Killer’s aura was... infectious, really, it was brightening and easygoing. You know what? Two out of three coworkers being nice was great. Better than some people had.

You turned around, glancing over your shoulder, to get a look at the guy who was being such an asshole to you.

... Dust was gone.

“Eh?” Your back straightened in surprise, and your head swiveled back and forth. You couldn’t see him anywhere in the cafe.

“he’s on a smoke break, probably.” Killer clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Wait - did he? He made a sound that resembled the action, for sure. But he didn’t have a tongue, right? He was a skeleton. You looked back at him.

“But we haven’t even opened yet?” you said, bewildered.

“toldja. he’s just the worst. don’t ask him for anything, he’ll make you feel dumb for askin’.” He shifted his weight onto one foot, bending his knee slightly. “if you wanna know where anything is, just ask me.”

“... Ah. Okay.” You smiled again, appreciative. “Thank you, Killer.”

He grinned anew, corners of his sockets lifting.

“you’re cute. i’m real ‘excited to be workin’ with you.”

... Your mouth opened slightly, taken aback. What? Did you hear that right?

“Yeah, excited to be working with you too,” you blurted, absolutely no idea how to respond. Did he mean cute like adorable? Or cute like... “But I’ll be in the kitchen most of the time, right?”

“course. but it’s a quiet cafe. nice.” He tilted his skull, talking so casually and warmly, like he didn’t literally just call you cute. “we’ll get lots of chances to chat. lots of time to get to know each other better.”

“Sure.” Your head was spinning, heart starting to thud. You were glad your voice came out so much calmer than you actually felt. Was this just his personality? That had to be it. He had to just be the kind of guy that sounded flirty. Your hands twisted in your apron. “That... that sounds great,”

Killed leaned, resting his elbow on the counter and putting his chin on his hand.

“i’d love to get to know you better,” he purred.

Okay, no, you were definitely being flirted with. A flush of heat prickled your cheeks. Oh my stars, he probably wanted you to respond. How were you supposed to respond?

Fwump! A blue cloth landed on Killer’s skull, then flopped onto the counter. It made you jump, but Killer’s only reaction was a slight annoyed downturn in his smile. You looked over your shoulder - Dust was walking away, toward the back of the cafe, probably to put his book away.

“I-I should get baking then, huh?” Taking advantage of the lull you quickly darted past Killer, turning around and using your back to push the kitchen door open. “I’ve got, uh... dough. That needs... attending to,”

You kept backing up. Killer advanced, still smiling. “mind if i come see? not much of a baker, myself.”

“I-I don’t know if...”

A massive shape moved into your field of view. Suddenly, Horror’s hand slammed into the door frame. He had moved with a startling amount of speed for such a large guy. With just that move, he body blocked the doorway entirely, sending Killer reeling back.

“kitchen staff only.” Horror didn’t sound happy.

“since when was that a rule?” Killer didn’t sound happy either. “stop getting so possessive.”

... You couldn’t see anything. Only Horror’s back. But you caught the way Killer’s face twisted, smile falling.

“fuckin’ hell. message received. don’t have to get so weird about it.”

You didn’t wait to find out what happened next. Flustered and confused and just grateful to be back in the kitchen (clearly a safe zone), you turned away from the mess happening in the doorway.

... Something on the counter caught your eye.

A fresh coffee. In a pretty stoneware mug. It was on your side of the kitchen, but you definitely hadn’t put it there.

Just from a glance, you could tell it was your usual. And it was clearly new, made within a few minutes, there were still gentle wisps of steam rising from its surface.

... Cautiously, you picked it up. There was only one person who had been at the counter the whole time Killer was flirting and Horror was baking.

You took a sip.

...

You were getting some pretty mixed signals from Dust.

But damn. He knew how to make a good coffee.

---

When you envisioned the sort of person that ran a cute little independent cafe like this, you definitely pictured someone that matched the decorations. Someone friendly, bookish, tasteful. Perhaps an owl monster, or a plant monster with big monstera leaves, or even a human (specifically one who wore dungarees). Someone who looked like they probably had a beautiful private Instagram.

... The person behind the counter shifted, at the sight of you entering the cafe once again. It looked like he had been cleaning the coffee machine until you walked in, a small rag in one giant clawed hand.

“ah. thank you for coming in after closing,” he said. His voice, soft and deep and satiny. His smile, ice white.

When you envisioned this cafe’s owner, you didn’t picture Nightmare.

You shuffled over to the counter. There was a stool pulled up to it, but you didn’t sit down, too nervous to. “No problem,” you said, tiny. “I was going to come back and prep some stuff anyway.”

Horror may have been taller. Killer’s tears may have been more visually striking, Dust’s face may have been ‘spookier’. But there was no one with an aura like Nightmare’s. By all appearances, he was just a skeleton monster with pitch black and tarry bones - considering there were monsters that were ten-foot springs on fire and giant carnivorous fish with teeth the length of your forearm, a skeleton with tarred bones was nothing. He didn’t appear particularly out of the ordinary. He was wearing a well fitted black button-up shirt, and a silver watch on one skeletal wrist... a perfectly average humanoid monster.

But there was just something about him. You felt it, the moment you walked into the interview. Something about the way he held himself, something about his air, the slightest tilt of his chin. That sharp, brilliantly cyan eyelight - whoever could’ve guessed that cyan could be such a powerful colour? Something about him set off an instinctual nervousness deep inside you, a flighty feeling that told you to pay close attention to every move he made.

You swallowed.

... It was very attractive.

You could never, ever say it aloud. Especially since he was your boss. But everything that made Nightmare intimidating to you just made you blush. You felt it the moment you walked into the interview, and you felt it now; his overwhelming energy made your breath catch in your throat. He was handsome. Strong jaw, defined cheekbones, but not too sharp or angular. Just... nice to look at.

There were some papers, and a pen, on his side of the counter. He slid them over to you. You didn’t know why, but you expected the tips of his claws to leave black marks on the white paper - they didn’t.

“just some documents for you to sign,” he said. His voice wasn’t as deep as Horror’s, but nevertheless, it reverberated inside your chest. “had to be in-person. then you’re all on board.”

“Oh, okay.” You picked up the pen.

“i wanted to check how your first day was, too.” He set aside the rag he’d been holding, and leant on the counter. Both elbows. There was still almost a metre between you, but it felt as if he was pressing into your personal space bubble. You could smell something; a cologne, maybe? It was really good. “how was it?”

“Good,” you replied, shakily, completely unable to concentrate on the words actually on the paper. “Everyone was nice. Horror, especially.”

“i’m glad to hear it.”

“Killer... did flirt with me, though.”

Nightmare’s brows raised. “did it make you uncomfortable?”

“N-not really. Just confused.” Why did you blurt words out like that around him? You’d done the exact same in the interview, just saying whatever came to mind. You needed to get a hold of yourself.

He cared whether or not you were uncomfortable... that was sweet.

Nightmare tsked. “he’s like that with everyone. but he shouldn’t be. i will have a word. tell me if it happens again, i’ll beat some sense into him.”

Not expecting that last line, you coughed out a little laugh. Nightmare was clearly pleased, grin inching up his face.

“let me make you something to drink.” He shifted off his elbows, hands flat on the counter.

You stood up straighter. “O-oh, it’s fine. I wouldn’t - ”

“you aren’t imposing,” he said, turning around and pushing his sleeves up his arms. “sit down.”

Your butt was on the seat. Huh? You’d sat down before you’d even thought about whether or not you wanted to obey. You swallowed again, glad he had turned around and couldn’t see your face. He possessed an incredible gift for sounding commanding, without sounding aggressive.

He took the kettle, bringing it over to the sink and starting to fill it with water.

“I... what’re you making?” you asked, flustered at how easily he was able to make you do as he said.

“it’s a surprise.” He pulled out a mug. “don’t look.”

Well... you had no trouble not looking at what he was making. You couldn’t help the way your eyes were drawn to his arms; the bones that made up his forearm were large and thick, almost as thick as your wrist.

“You’re sure?”

“my treat,” he hummed.

You turned your eyes down, finally actually focusing on the paperwork. It was the usual... bank details, confirming you’d read the employee code of conduct, right-to-work, all of that. Honestly, you skim-read most of it. You tapped the pen gently against the edge of the paper, rather than on the wood, so you could fiddle without making too much of a noise.

As your gaze trailed up and down the pages, signing and dating whichever ones asked for it, you couldn’t help but note how nice this felt. Sitting at the counter, after closing, listening to the sound of Nightmare making something. The kettle boiling, cutlery and equipment clinking, the gentle hiss of the milk steamer. It all felt very... safe. Cosy.

“here,” he said.

You looked up. He was holding the drink out to you. It was a nice dark blue mug you hadn’t seen on the shelf yet. Was it reserved for him?

“Thank you,” you said, softly, reaching out. It smelled incredible. It was clearly hot, and frothy, he’d sprinkled a tiny pinch of dry tea leaves on the top for effect.

As you took the drink from him... his fingertips brushed your hand. You could’ve sworn it was deliberate, like he had shifted his hand specifically to allow the tips of his claws to trace over the top of your palm as you took the drink.

Your cheeks and neck prickled. It must’ve just been an accident. Right? You were looking into it too deeply because you liked him. You cleared your throat, a tiny sound, and sipped the drink.

... It was sweet, hot, comforting. It was creamy and fluffy - yet somehow floral and sophisticated. It felt deep, but layered, it was an absolute treat.

“Woah,” Was all you were able to breathe out.

He rested his forearms on the counter this time. More casual than just the elbows, perhaps. To your relief, he’d made himself one as well, you would’ve felt much too awkward drinking something on your own.

His gaze was relaxed, socket lidded. But at the same time, there was something indecipherable about the way he looked at you. “i’ll take that as a good response...?”

“What is this?” you asked, right before taking another sip.

“lavender london fog. one of my favourites.”

“I’ve always been fond of lavender,”

His eyelight became a fraction wider, and the cyan glow a touch stronger. “... you have good taste,”

“I think I’m done with all the paperwork,”

He tilted his head. “i intimidate you. don’t i?”

...

You made a little surprised, confronted sound, where did that come from?!

“I-I’m so sorry,” you squeaked. “It’s not you, I promise,”

He chuckled. What a lovely sound. “don’t be silly. of course it’s me. i have that effect on people, i always have.”

You were spluttering. You couldn’t deny you were a bit relieved that he knew the whole time, but you still didn’t like that you’d been so obvious. “I feel terrible, though! You’ve been nothing but nice to me,”

“you’ve been nothing but nice, too.” He swirled his drink. You could hear the foam sizzling against the sides of the cup. “despite how obviously unpleasant myself and my employees are, you’ve treated us all very well. don’t think it’s gone unnoticed.”

“You’re not unpleasant,” you stressed, embarrassed and avoiding the compliments.

“it sounds unprofessional,” Nightmare said. “but i mostly hired you for that. your pleasant aura, despite it all.”

“Aura?” you parroted.

“metaphorically speaking.” He finally drew the paperwork back across the counter to him, eyeing your signature. “my boys are... difficult. don’t tell them i called them my boys. hiring has been incredibly troublesome, because until now, they’ve never liked anyone who applied. they’ve chased off three other potential hires already. finding someone they all like has been hard work.”

“Pft.” Your cheeks could not catch a break. They were about as hot as the mug you were squeezing in both your hands. You had no idea you were so desirable, nor so easy to get along with. It was very flattering. “How did they chase them off?”

Nightmare raised his brows. “dear, i would like to keep you around. i don’t think i’ll tell you that.”

You laughed. The pet name flew over your head. Nightmare’s smile wasn’t getting any wider, but... it was getting softer.

“I-I should get to work. I wanted to make some batters now, so they can rest overnight.”

“could i lend a hand?” Nightmare tilted his head. “my baking knowledge is not... extensive. but i’m happy to assist.”

Unlike Killer’s ‘offer’ to help, this one, you were delighted to accept. “Of course. If you don’t mind being told what to do.”

He chuckled.

“if it’s you, i don’t mind one bit.”

#commissions #bad sanses

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thatnonameuser · 5 months ago

Text

A Wonderland Of Yanderes

World Building is here Part 2

It all started with that class.

The final class for the first week of the first semester. After all the chaos of coming to Twisted Wonderland, of being thrown into a world you don’t understand, a quiet weekend to start finding a way back is something you’ve been awaiting.

The classes here were chaotic but fun, and even interesting as a human from a world without any magic.

Making potions that could do so many different things in Alchemy. Speaking with animals or a cat that can't talk like Grim in Animal Languages. Riding broomsticks in Phys Ed. Even the boring classes like Magical History, learning of this world full of wonder and mystery, and Arithmancy, math was boring, but it was fun to learn that it’s the same in this world.

But out of all the classes this was the weirdest one of all.

It was called The Art of Ensnaring Hearts. About ‘darling control and protection’. It’s a weird sounding class, but even weirder, it’s a mandatory subject for all first years, which seems weird for what sounds like an elective. Still it’s just odd, not anything too weird.

The name is nothing that you’ve seen in any fantasy book or tv show in your world. But by now, you knew weird being dropped head first into an unknown world. By now anything new and weird should have been expected, understood, brushed aside as something to accept and move on.

So here you were sitting between Ace and Deuce in the lecture, Grim fast asleep on your lap, waiting for class you knew nothing about.

“I can’t believe they’re making us take this class.” Ace complains.

“Stop complaining Ace. It’s a really important class!” Deuce objects.

Ace whined his butt off the whole way here, complaining about how stupid it was that they had to attend it. Deuce on the other hand, was incredibly enthusiastic and you are completely in the dark for what this class is even about.

Ace shrugs, “Still, my folks and brother taught me all about this stuff. It’s a waste of time.”

“Not everyone has parents or siblings who can teach them about darlings, Ace.”

“Nothing personal Juice, but this class is going to be as boring as Magical History.”

“Well, if you know so much, what exactly is this class about?” You joke and they both look at you like you’ve grown a second head. "What?" you say, now uneasy.

“You don’t know?” Ace asks.

“What part about ‘I’m from another world’ keeps slipping your minds?” Your attempt at a joke falls flat, as they look at you in incredulity.

Deuce practically reels back in surprise, “N-No it’s just that it's so normal here. You don’t know what darlings are?”

You shake your head, “No, not really.”

A crack of a whip onto the blackboard calls your attention to Professor Crewel, "Alright pups, I have to do this every year so let's get this out of the way now. This class will provide you with any and every method, skill and technique to find, capture and control your future darlings, including evading the law in your respective homelands." Now, you're confused, why exactly is a school teaching students how to break the law?

"As you know Sage Island makes special accommodations for NRC and RSA students, all acts that may be forbidden in any of your hometowns, with the exception of Darling murder, will be pardoned and forgiven. In the case of a family investigation, the school will stage an accident so please do not butcher them beyond repair." No words or sounds slip from your lips, with you stunned silent in pure horror.

What pools in your stomach is hot dread mixed with cold fear. Just what exactly is this world? Murder can be excused here? It can be covered up, with only a slap on the wrist. You need some explanations and you need them now.

A student raises a hand, "Professor?"

"Yes, pup?"

"Why are there no darlings enrolled in Night Raven?"

"One too many murders on campus. A few too many mutts ran around unneutered and decided to draw blood." You smother your gasp a few seconds too late, as more than a third of the room turn to you, confused.

"Something wrong, pup?" Crewel raises an eyebrow at you. His eyes drill into your soul, inspecting, calculating.

"N-Nothing! I'm fine. Perfectly fine." Crewel doesn't push you on the subject, returning to his lecture.

You lean back in your seat, and the cold sweat on your body makes you shiver. Right now, you'll bite your tongue and hold back your horror.

You need to see Crowley, as soon as possible.

#yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst x reader #yandere #twisted wonderland x reader

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katsu28 · 6 months ago

Note

Hi, I really like your writing! I had an idea for a fic with Lando. He left school really young (he got tutored privately afterwards according to wikipedia) and mayhaps that could make him feel insecure or something along those lines if he has a significant other that is in university, maybe studying to get a bachelors or masters degree. School is not everything and does not accurately measure intelligence or anything else but it is still a standard that most people hold and compare themselves too. It's something that I know all to well, which is where this idea came from. Whatever you do with it thank for reading it!💖

thank you for trusting me with your idea <3

lando norris x reader, r is in an unspecified master's program, 1.5k.

Lando loves how smart you are.

He tells you all the time. When you’re stressed from the intensity of your master’s program, nervous about an exam, or most of the time, just randomly. He’s proud of you for taking on something he definitely doesn’t have the brains for, and for absolutely crushing it so far.

He left school before even completing his GCSEs in year 10, just so he could focus on racing full time—a decision he’d never regret, but always wondered about.

What would his life have looked like if he hadn’t devoted it to pursuing a career in racing? Would he have finished secondary school? Made it to university?

He doesn’t even know what he would’ve studied.

Granted, he was never really good at school to begin with, but things could’ve changed. Now don’t get him wrong, he would never change a thing, but that didn’t mean he never thought about what might’ve been.

So yes, Lando loves how smart you are, but if he’s being honest with himself, it does make him feel a little insecure about his own intellect.

-------

Lando finds you in your workspace when he gets home from padel with Max.

He’d turned one of his guest rooms into a sort of office slash study space for you when you moved in with him all that time ago, a place where you could get your work done in a quiet environment whenever you needed to. The space itself was one of the smaller rooms, but still bigger than you were used to, and decorated to perfection too.

A standing desk with an ergonomic chair (better for your neck and back, he’d said, so you weren’t hunched over your books all the time), a smart blackboard on one wall for any necessary brainstorming, a comfy chair in another corner—all overlooking the Monte Carlo cityscape from massive floor to ceiling windows. Everything else has been up to you, but Lando wanted nothing but the best for his smart girl.

He pads in silently, making his way over to where you're furiously typing at your computer to press a kiss to your cheek. You flinch a little, startled out of your own world at the action. Your eyes fly to his, wide, before your posture relaxes again.

“Oh, hi! Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in,” You breathe, giving him a short kiss on the lips this time.

“Didn’t mean to make you jump like that, darling. My bad,” He chuckles. He leans over your shoulder, squinting at the diagrams on your screen. “What’s that?”

“Oh, it’s—” You pause, flicking through a few pages of the textbook next to your computer. Your lips twist to the side in thought, and then you smile at him in what he’s sure you meant to be an assuring way. “Nevermind, you probably wouldn’t get it.”

He knows you don't mean it as a dig or anything, but the brush off ignites a bitter taste on his tongue. And if there’s one thing about Lando, it’s that he feels everything extremely strongly. “Well I’m sorry, not all of us can be geniuses.”

“Pardon?” You look genuinely stunned at his outburst, at this huge 180 degree turn his mood has taken within the last few seconds.

Then he can't help the words tumbling out of his mouth next. “I get it, alright? ‘Lando doesn't know what I’m talking about, let’s make Lando feel dumb!”

He storms off before you can process his stinging words, but even then, the anger that had just flared up in him has already dissipated. Lando knows all of it comes from a place of insecurity, that little nagging feeling at the back of his brain telling him that even though he’s happy where he is, happy doing what he does for a living, he could’ve made something different of himself.

You leave him alone for a while before coming to find him, presumably to let him cool off. He feels awful about what he said now. Honestly, he hadn't even meant to say it out loud, doesn’t know why he said it. It’s not like he meant it.

A knock from the doorway of the bedroom draws him out of his guilty thoughts, and he looks up to see you hovering just behind the threshold. He hates how you look hesitant to approach him.

You press your lips into a thin line once his gaze meets yours. “Can we talk about what just happened?”

“It’s nothing. Just forget I said anything.”

“It’s obvious you’ve been holding onto those thoughts for a while, so no, Lando, it’s not nothing.”

“I don’t wanna fight,” He mumbles, eyes glued to his fiddling fingers. You seem to notice his sudden quietness because your expression softens as you cross the room to sit next to him.

“We’re not fighting. You’ve got something on your mind, and I want to know so I can help,” You reply, shifting to face him. He can tell how you're trying to keep your voice as level as possible. “Please let me help.”

Lando chews on his bottom lip, unsure. You say you want to help, but he's worried that if he tells you what's really going on, you’ll think it's silly. It is silly, really, him feeling insecure because of how smart you are. But if he doesn't tell you, you’ll think he doesn't trust you, and he does trust you. He trusts you with everything.

Then you say his name again, softer this time, and you’re looking at him like you’ve done something horrible, and he sighs.

“Sometimes I feel like I’m not smart enough to be your boyfriend. You get all excited about your research when you talk about it,” He sighs, shrugging clumsily, “and I want to understand it because I wanna be able to get excited about it with you, but I just don’t get it. And it makes me feel stupid.”

“I didn’t—Lando, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. I didn’t mean to, I—”

He shakes his head forcefully, grabbing both your hands in his. “No, that’s not what I meant. You never make me feel stupid. It’s my problem, really. I just…I’m not really known for my brains, yeah? Came to terms with that a while ago.”

“You’re smart, Lan,” You insist, brows pinching in the middle. “You’re so smart, what’re you even talking about?”

“We talking about the same person here? I never even finished school. Wasn’t too good at it before I left either.”

“There’s more than one way to be smart, y’know,” You continue. Lando tilts his head curiously, not unlike a puppy would. “You’ve got amazing people skills, you’re creative beyond anything I could’ve dreamed up, you’re well balanced with your emotions. Not to mention the amount of skill and strength it takes to do what you do everyday, at the level you perform at.”

“No, but that’s different. I could never do what you do, remember all the stuff that you’ve had to.”

“And you think I could do what you do?” You ask, giving a disbelieving chuckle. “Genuinely, if I got put into the cockpit of your car, I wouldn’t even be able to start the bloody thing, let alone drive it the way you can when you’re being bombarded with information from all sides during a race. If you put me in front of a group of reporters, if I had to do even a fraction of the press appearances and sponsorship events you do, I’d probably shit my pants.”

Lando wrinkles his nose in slight disgust. “That’s nasty.”

“It’s true though! I can’t do half the things you can, but that doesn’t make me any less smart. It just means we’re smart in different ways. So what you never finished school? School isn’t the only way to measure how intelligent you are. And Lando, you’re beyond intelligent.”

His shoulders sag with the long sigh he releases, and he lists to the side, slumping over onto your lap. “Sorry for lashing out,” He murmurs, cheek pressed against your knee. He rolls over onto his back, gazing up at you with truly apologetic eyes. “I didn’t mean what I said, I was just being a dick.”

You hum noncommittally, stroking a hand through his curls. “You’re allowed to have feelings, Lando, it’s alright.”

“Yeah, but what I said was just mean, and I didn’t—I wasn’t thinking straight. You don’t deserve to be snapped at like that.”

“Makes up for all the times I’ve snapped at you during exams, so…call it even?” You ask, leaning over him with a soft smile.

“We’re even.” He lifts his head, craning to reach your lips, and you chuckle a little bit, but meet him halfway in a gentle kiss.

It’s an I’m sorry kiss, a I forgive you kiss, a I’ll always support you kiss.

A no matter what you say, I’ll love you forever kiss.

This fact, Lando knows for sure, even though a little bit of him still thinks he’s not quite as smart as you.

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post new fics :)

#requested!#lando norris #ln4 #lando norris x reader #ln4 x reader #lando norris x fem!reader #lando norris x you #lando norris fic #lando norris fluff #lando norris one shot

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cheapshrimpysheep · 1 year ago

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Sending Love - Part 1

SUMMARY: How do they react to seeing you make a heart with your hands for them in the classroom? And how do they reciprocate you?

CHARACTERS: Heartslabyul (Riddle, Ace; Deuce; Cater; Trey); Savanaclaw (Leona; Jack; Ruggie) & Octavinelle (Azul; Jade; Floyd)

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Bullet Points

WORD COUNT: An average of 180 words per character.

COMMENTS: Some are longer than others because some of them would take longer to reciprocate your heart. Or at least I think they would. And since I decided to write for all students and there are 22 of them, I divided this into 2 parts.

Sending Love - Part 2

I hope you enjoy 🫶

CONTEXT: You two are in the same classroom (for whatever reason) sitting relatively far from each other. It was a class with Professor Trein.

It's rare that Riddle isn't paying full attention in class, but for some reason, he decided to look at you for a moment.

You might have already been looking at him and you didn't look away when he was the one looking at you. Which also made him keep looking at you.

He had a slightly reproachful expression on his face that you weren't paying attention in class.

When you make a heart with your hands for him and smile, he blushes! And he diverts his gaze to the blackboard, in an attempt to refocus on what he should.

A few minutes later you look back at him, who was discreetly looking at you. He looks away back to the blackboard, but you see his hand, resting on the table, but forming a heart with thumb and forefinger in your direction.

After class, he'll give you a little lecture about paying more attention in class. And he takes the opportunity to invite you to the next Unbirthday Party.

You look at Ace and he looks at you. He gestures at you, showing that he is bored.

You laugh softly and make a heart with your hands for him.

He is slightly surprised at first, but makes a heart with his hands back at you with a smile and a wink.

Chances are he's going to keep doing that for the rest of the class because he's bored.

Also, high chances of both of you getting caught at some point by Professor Trein. He will call you two out and the other students will laugh at you and comment on what happened.

Ace will defend you, saying that the others are just jealous. And the professor will have to shut him and the others up again.

After class, if the two of you aren't grounded, he'll continue to tell you not to mind the others, they're just jealous.

Deuce always tries his best to pay attention and try to understand everything he can from the lessons.

But he can't stop himself from getting distracted by looking at you every now and then.

You see him with that slightly desperate face of someone who is having difficulties in class despite the effort. And make a heart with your hands for him, like a lovely "hang in there".

He is clearly taken by surprise, to the point that the colleagues next to him noticed him suddenly straightening up in his chair.

He will try to convince his colleagues that it wasn't nothing. And if, for some reason any of them try to insist, he will threaten them with something like "None of your business!"

He'll be so worried about not getting either of you in trouble that he'll forget to reciprocate the heart for a while.

When things are calmer, he will look back at you, waiting for you to look at him and, shyly, smile at you and make a heart with his hands for you, discreetly.

Like any other student, Cater lets himself be distracted from time to time. And this time, he gets distracted by looking at you.

He is the one who starts, smiling at you. And you respond by making a heart with your hands.

That lights up the smile he already had on his face. He rests his elbows on the table and rests his chin on the back of his hands and in the most discreetly ingenious way, he makes a heart shape with his forearms. And still winks at you.

In the end, you're the one getting the most flattered.

After class, if you let him, he might walk up to you and kiss you on the cheek. After all, you made his day with that cute heart of yours. He wants to reciprocate in the best way.

Obviously, Trey isn’t a bad student, but even he gets distracted from time to time. And he ends up looking at you.

When you look at him, he gives you a soft smile. You take the opportunity and make a heart with your hands for him.

He looks surprised at first and smiles sweetly at you in response. He surveys the classroom and notices that neither the professor nor the other students are paying attention to either of you.

He looks back at you and also makes a heart with his hands for you. With a sweet and somewhat confident smile.

The next day, you will find a small bag with heart-shaped cookies of your favourite flavour, with a little note saying "You should pay more attention in class."

When you look at him, Leona is already looking at you, indiscreetly. He doesn't like the classes, they're all boring to him. And he decided that you would be the most interesting thing in the classroom.

He smiles amused to see you getting flattered by see him paying more attention to you than in class.

He winks at you to mess with you even more.

You look around to see if anyone is looking at you, and when you see that they are concentrating on what the professor is writing on the board, you look back at Leona and make a heart with your hands for him.

He laughs, not too loudly, but loud enough to get the attention of some of his classmates and Professor Trein. It's not that common to see him laughing like that. Not his usual sarcastic laugh, but an amused laugh.

Professor Trein asked him what was so funny that Kingscholar himself laughed? But he says it was nothing and the professor didn't need to worry, that he wouldn't do it again. In his carefree way.

Congratulations, you got Leona's attention for the rest of the class.

The next time you look back at Leona, he'll be leaning back with his arms crossed. And he will purposely uncross them to make a heart with his thumb and forefinger for you with a smile on his face.

Jack is a good boy and he was paying attention in class. He's kind of cute looking so intently at the professor and the blackboard.

When he looks at you, probably because he sensed that you were already looking at him, you can't resist making a heart with your hands for him.

You see him raise his eyebrows and put his ears back in surprise. What you couldn't see was his tail wagging.

He looks undecided for a few seconds, not knowing what to do first: go back to paying attention in class or reciprocate you. Not reply you must be impolite, right? Or you might think he doesn't reciprocate the feeling.

As soon as he sees another opportunity, where no one is looking at you two, he will look at you and, as soon as you look at him, he will look at his hands on the table for you to look at them too.

You see him making a shy heart with his index and middle fingers.

As soon as he sees your smile, he will smile back at you and go back to paying attention in class. He will have a slight smile for, probably, all day.

Ruggie probably looked at you because he was getting bored in class.

When you notice and look at him, he smile playfully.

You decide to answer that smile by making a heart with your hands for him.

His smile widens, turning into a small chuckle. He stretches out, bringing his hands behind his head. He waits a bit, to give the other students time to get back to focusing on the lesson, or anything else. And put his hands inward over his head, making a big heart with his arms around him for you.

You weren't expecting that, which made you laugh a little. And consequently, him too.

Every next time you look at him, he'll make hearts with his hands for you, just to entertain himself by messing with you.

Azul is one of the best students in the school and for that reason he is also usually one of the most attentive in class. However, he’s not usually attentive only to the lesson.

He also tends to glance over the students to figure out who the next poor and unfortunate... I mean, the next student in need of his services might be.

And inevitably, his gaze falls on you. When you look at him, he smiles, that classic, confident smile that is his signature.

What he didn't expect was for you to return that smile with a heart made with your hands for him.

His glasses even crooked on the bridge of his nose. He quickly straightened them, using the hand to cover his mouth and, possible, blush.

But he cannot be indebted to you. He must reciprocate that.

Then, he recomposes his posture, checks that neither the professor nor the other students are looking at any of you, looks at you with his smile (trying to hide how flattered he really was) and makes a heart with his hands for you.

And don't you dare blow him a kiss! Or at least that's what he's thinking. Neither his pride nor his heart can take it

Jade tends to be quite observant in class. Mainly to try to find possible "clients” for Azul.

Inevitably, his gaze falls on you. When you look at him, he smiles at you.

You decide to respond to him not only with a smile, but also with a heart made with your hands for him.

He raises his eyebrows slightly, in surprise, before chuckling. Then he makes a heart with his hands for you, just like you did, with that charming smile of his.

He did it so naturally and without concern for the glares of others that his deskmates looked almost in shock at his heart-shaped hands.

And then to you, with the look of someone who asks "Who is capable of making him do this?" And unfortunately for you, if you don't like being the centre of attention, it will attract the attention of other curious students.

If Jade starts noticing too many people for his liking looking at you, he will clear the throat loudly, causing all heads to look away from you.

Floyd couldn't care less about that class. So he decided to stare at you. And, eventually, he'll feel like messing with you.

You will start to feel little balls of paper hit your hands, arms, cheeks... until you finally look at him. He was using a rubber band as a slingshot. He smiles at you, like a naughty big child.

You show him your sulky face for what he did, but then you decide to mess with him too, in your own way. And you make a heart with your hands for him.

His smile only grows. As if he knew he could count on you to entertain him a little in that class. To the point where he laughs out loud, not caring in the least if he caught the attention of the other students and even the professor. What happened.

Knowing Floyd already, Professor Trein warns him not to do that again and to contain his laughter next time if he doesn't want to be kicked out of the classroom.

To pretty much everyone's surprise, he nods, as if he doesn't want to leave the classroom.

He waits until everyone stops paying attention to you two to return the heart to you. And start a game that whenever you look at each other you have to make a heart for the other. At least during that class or until he had had enough.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

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stsgluver · 1 year ago

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𝐒𝐍𝐀𝐏𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐏𝐓.𝟑 — gojo satoru

synopsis. nobara is ill and what better way to spend your day off than trying to figure out who your teacher's high school girlfriend is?

wc. 3.5k

tags. gojo x reader, fluff, one suggestive joke, reader is in gojo's class, implied utahime x shoko, only half proofread

a/n. it's nearly midnight and im so tired and I have to be up at 6 tomorrow but I needed to get this done. I hope there's not too many mistakes <3 the ending is kind of shit but idc :) jk i do pls like it

previous part / next part / series masterlist

“are you sure you’ll be okay alone?”

nobara lazily lifted her head from beneath her duvet, orange bangs clinging to her sweaty forehead as she let out a series of harsh coughs. megumi winced from the doorway, inching back ever so slightly - he'd already brought in a couple bottles of water and a box of tissues, he wasn't looking to contract whatever flu-like disease she had caught.

she rolled her eyes at his not-so-subtle antics and raised a weak thumbs up. “go on fushiguro, i know how much you're dying to spend the afternoon with itadori and sensei."

“haha,” megumi uttered with the most sarcastic tone he could muster. on second thoughts, maybe being sick for a week wouldn't be so bad. with nobara gone, there was no buffer for his teacher and classmate to pester. “call me if you get worse, you know the second years are useless.”

nobara gave the younger boy a quick salute and small smile, “yes boss.”

she dropped her head back into her pillow and waited till she heard the door click shut till she slipped a little less than elegantly out of bed. whilst yes, there was no denying that she was definitely sick, she also had a mission she couldn’t give up on.

in the three weeks, four days and an unknown number of hours since she had found the dvd of her teacher in his youth, she had been putting all of her free time into trying to find you. megumi had been a dead end when she’d tried asking him about you again and, although nobara knew he had a soft spot for yuuji, she didn’t trust the pink haired boy to treat this situation sensitively.

initially, she’d even considered asking gojo about it but she decided against that pretty quickly. that could get awkward very quickly and she still had at least two years at the school.

then, she’d moved onto searching through the school for traces of the alumni. all she’d managed to find was a single photo; one that included both kyoto and tokyo students. you were tucked into gojo’s side with your arm around shoko. geto was there too: him and gojo side by side as they always were in their teenage years. all of you were grinning and genuinely happy. where had it all gone so drastically wrong?

nobara wondered if it was geto’s fault that gojo’s class had been all but erased – an effort to forget that the worst curse user to live had in fact once been an aspiring sorcerer.

her next plan (and one she hadn’t full considered the logistics of completely just yet) was to watch every single video on the dvd because surely at some point, there would be some clue of who you were or where you’d gone.

and even if there wasn’t, what else could she possibly do to amuse herself whilst she was on bed rest?

with a huff, she grabbed her laptop and dropped back onto her bed, tucking herself under the covers. opening up her laptop (her password being ‘12345’), she clicked unpause on a video she’d started the evening prior.

“–and that’s it basically.”

shoko waved her hands around, sat on yaga’s chair at the front of the classroom with a blackboard filled with scribbles behind her. it wasn’t anything legible, more like swirls and stars and nobara thinks that, if she looked hard enough, in the corner were two little stick men: gojo and geto. an unlit cigarette sat between her lips as she kicked her legs up onto her teacher’s desk. yaga clearly wasn’t in the room.

“that made no sense whatsoever but woo! shoko!” you clapped, out of frame of the camera but enthusiastically nonetheless. the aforementioned girl narrowed her eyes at you across the classroom.

“that’s why i made a video, for you to look back on duh,” she tsked, nodding her head towards the camera. “plus it is easy. i expected dumb and dumber not to understand but you?” shoko patted away a few non-existent tears, taking on the role of disappointed parent and their once star student.

except you’d never really excelled in a class with two prodigies and shoko actually loved having the upperhand in at least one area of sorcery.

shoko picked up the camera, holding it upwards to give a full view of her outfit and hair – like it was any different to any other day she attended school. she swivelled the spinny chair over to an occupied desk, slotting next to it and moving the camera so that it captured all of you in the frame. gojo was sat down in the seat, glasses propped up onto his forehead as you sat sideways on his lap, unsuccessfully trying to decipher shoko’s teachings on the board.

“understanding reversed cursed techniques is way harder than understanding cursed techniques,” you tried to justify, pointing to the board that showed the squiggles that ‘symbolised’ performing a reversed curse technique. stealing gojo’s glasses and popping them on your own face, you popped a quick kiss to the side of his head, “plus, why waste my energy? you’ll figure it out so i never have to.”

“the things i do for you,” gojo sighed happily, dropping his head down onto your shoulder as his arms looped around your waist. the orange-haired sorcerer could practically hear yuuji’s gasps at the simple displays of affection and she almost felt bad for watching some of the clips without him.

almost.

nobara was never one for romance – drama, such as the fight between gojo and naoya, that was her scene. but even she couldn’t help herself from smiling at the teenage love between the two of you. maybe she should give her teacher more credit – there was more to the six foot two man than just his over the top personality and questionable teaching methods.

“this is meant to be an educational video! be less couple-y!” shoko complained, scowling and shuffling away on her chair again.

“oh, we could make it very educational,” gojo wiggled his eyebrows, the devious smirk on his lips only widening at your flushed expression as you tried to hit his chest. failing, though, as he isolated his cursed technique to uphold a thin barrier between your hand and the material of his uniform.

there was the teacher she knew – keen to annoy even those he loved the most.

shoko must’ve ended the video out of spite after his comment, because nobara found herself staring at a black screen.

all that she’d learnt so far was that you couldn’t perform a reverse cursed technique as a teenager. maybe that was what killed you? if you were even dead, that is. but given the damage that curses can inflict on sorcerers, whether or not you were able to execute a reversed cursed technique could literally be the difference between walking away from a fight a little tired or in a body bag.

nobara coughed several times, picking up the open bottle of water from her bedside table and taking a sip to try and ease her scratchy throat. scrunching up her nose at the slight sting of swallowing, she clicked the next available video, not putting much thought into her choice.

it was you and nanami in frame in a library by the looks of it but if it was on campus, nobara didn’t know where. christmas decorations decorated the shelving units behind you – tinsels of gold, red and green, and hanging snowflakes. you were both wearing your usual uniform but you also had a santa hat on and tinsel lining your jacket.

“we’re the only two on campus,” you said quietly, “because everyone else’s parents loved them–”

“we couldn’t afford to go back for the holidays,” nanami cut you off, without glancing up from what he was writing. being from two non-sorcerer families was a disadvantage normally in terms of status and inherited techniques, but holidays were somehow worse.

gojo had offered to help you out with a ticket back to your parents and had even extended an invitation for you to stay with him but you didn’t want to leave nanami alone (and although he didn’t seem grateful, he was glad you were there).

“it’s fine. academic comeback time,” you held up a book to the screen. being in a class with three exceptional sorcerers meant that studies were often sidelined to try and improve and perfect your techniques. holidays were usually your opportunity to catch up on the missed classwork and homework you’d fallen behind on.

nanami less so – if anything he was reading ahead. tokyo had never been renowned for academic scores until he’d come along.

“i don’t get why the camera needs to be here,” nanami complained.

“to record us study! it’s motivational.”

“sure,” nanami hummed quietly, reading over your shoulder at the work you’d already completed prior to setting up the camera. “that’s wrong. this is simple mutipli–” he paused at the sound of rustling and his brows furrowed as he tried to peer round the bookshelves.

“merry christmas!”

nobara snickered as nanami jumped at the sudden voice and appearance of three people behind him. gojo and geto were capable of masking their cursed energy (and shoko’s) so that they wouldn’t be noticed slipping into the library. although gojo had nearly screwed that up by pulling out a chair trying to trip up geto.

“ieiri!” you slipped out from your seat, running up and hugging your classmate. in the process, the camera got knocked so it was facing the ceiling. nobara frowned as she turned the brightness up on her laptop as if though that would somehow bring everyone back into grame. in the periphery of the screen she could make out just the heads and foreheads of the student sorcerers.

“hi satoru, missed you too satoru, so glad you came to see me satoru,” the white haired sorcerer pouted at the lack of attention and nobara is sure someone responded to him but the audio is muffled by two voices closer to the camera’s microphone.

“here!” haibara slipped into the seat next to nanami that you had occupied moments prior and held up a small wrapped box with red ribbon tied neatly in a bow. “i picked it up on the way. merry christmas nanamin!”

“thanks yu,” nanami smiled softly at his classmate. well that’s what nobara thought he did anyways, his eyes lifted into half crescents but she wasn’t actually sure what his mouth was doing out of frame. she’d never seen the blond so happy from a simple gesture.

she clicked off the video even though it still had thirty seconds left to go. it wasn’t much fun just watching people’s foreheads and she highly doubted that nanami was about to fix the camera’s position.

so you were from a non-sorcerer family and possibly not able to use reverse cursed technique. it wasn’t much but facts were still facts.

there was a little more deliberation before she chose her next video, settling herself back into her cushions as she waited for it to load.

the screen was suddenly very bright and nobara winced, turning it down as the surroundings came into focus. it was the inside of an arcade and the camera was pointed directly at one of those claw machines. inside were different sized plushies of spiderman and haibara was the one controlling the claw.

nobara could vaguely make out everyone’s reflection in the glass – to the left of haibara was geto (who was also the one holding onto the camera), gojo and you, and to his right was shoko, nanami and maybe also utahime? shoko had her arm around a blue haired girl either way.

“no! so close haibara,” you patted the youngest boy on the shoulder gently as the plushie he’d managed to pick up slipped from the claw’s clutches before it could be dropped down the chute and retrieved.

“can i try?” gojo asked and, from the annoyed groans, nobara assumed it wasn’t the first time he’d interjected.

“no, he’ll get it this time,” geto encouraged and gojo flashed him a look of disbelief.

“if gojo wants a go he can have it!” haibara tried to step away from the machine but nanami halted him, slotting several more coins in the machine.

“take your go yu.”

“i’ll get you a slushie if you win,” shoko called out, clapping her hands together as he accepted his fate, hesitantly pressing down on the buttons as he peered through the side of the machine to get a better angle.

“haibara, haibara.” all of them were chanting his name now, and that was enough of a boost for him to finally get one of the plushies over the barrier and down the chute. the camera shook unsteadily as geto jumped and six of them crowded the youngest in a joint hug.

nobara could see yuuji in haibara and megumi in nanami and herself in shoko and she had to stop herself from tearing up. nanami and shoko seemed like strangers these days and she couldn’t even imagine waking up and yuuji not being the first one to greet her outside her room.

we’ve got a mission here, she reminded herself, shaking her head lightly before moving onto the next clip.

“utahime, say hi,” you lowered the camera to the kyoto sorcerer’s height. she was sat cross-legged on the floor with a jacket flung haphazardly over her head to try and block out the sun that beamed down.

“hi!” utahime waved, smiling as you dropped down next to her. in her hands was a partially made daisy chain that she’d started to entertain herself whilst she waited for the tokyo students. despite being in kyoto, she’d always chosen to join yourself and shoko at events over her own classmates.

“who do you think is going to win the exchange event this year?” you asked with a raised brow and utahime grimaced.

“don’t make me compliment him.”

“are you implying that our edge is not because of me?” you looked at the camera with a disgusted expression, like you had the power to outshine the gojo satoru, she rolled her eyes – gojo’s dramatics were rubbing off on you. “for that i’m telling ieiri. you may be her girlfriend–”

utahime hit your arm and her eyes darted around for anyone that could’ve heard (like you were not sat alone in a field together whilst the others warmed up), “shut up! we’re not like that…”

you nodded with a condescending hum. “then kindly could you please stop calling her till three in the morning, some of us need our beauty sleep.”

“you’re only ever up at three am because you’re sneaking back from gojo’s dorm,” she retorted with a pointed look. you opened your mouth to defend yourself

“true,” you jumped at shoko’s voice, swivelling your neck around to find the third piece of your trio standing behind you. shoko gestured towards your uniform jacket, “and if she pulls down her collar there’s a massive hickey i had to help cover up this morning.”

utahime erupted into a fit of giggles and you eyed the camera like it was some sitcom and you were breaking the fourth wall.

“you’re such an asshole.”

shoko pushed in between the two of you to make herself the middle. “you love me.”

nobara frowned as the video ended. while it wasn’t overly helpful, it reaffirmed the seriousness of your relationship with her teacher�� but that was obvious from the lovesick heart eyes he constantly had in every video you were together.

although, she would have to show it to maki – the two had suspicions about the kyoto teacher and tokyo healer and this all but confirmed that they were right.

nobara scrolled down till she found a thumbnail of you, geto and gojo sat around a table of food.

“zenin naoya,” you started, chopsticks in one hand as you held a bowl of food in the other. gojo pretended to vomit at the mention of his name. “yes toru, appropriate response, but have you heard about him and the kamo girl?”

geto nodded with a mouth full. “the one who studied abroad?”

“yes! her,” you waved your chopsticks in his direction, “anyways, she cheated on him.”

the dark haired sorcerer made a sound of shock, “they were together together?”

you nodded enthusiastically, offering gojo some of your rice. “mhmm, they got together new years eve.”

“that did not last long,” gojo snickered. nobara peered at the date in the corner of the screen in a retro, yellow font; 15 january 2006.

“best part? it’s not even the first time,” you revealed, picking up some salmon sushi off of gojo’s plate and quickly eating it.

“stop,” geto gasped and nobara was shocked. this man was a war criminal now, and yet ten years ago he seemed so far from it, gossiping like he was a teenage girl.

“which like i don’t get,” you frowned. “i dont know why he’s trying to save face over some two week old relationship. especially if she’s already cheated multiple times.”

“he’s just desperate because it’s the first girl to ever want to actually be with him.”

“oh yeah she really wants to be with him,” gojo uttered sarcastically with a sparkle in his eyes. he would have a party at the downfall of the zenin.

“are they staying together?”

“i think so,” you nodded, holding a hand over your mouth as you spoke and finished your mouthful. “it’s what me and shoko told him to do, well shoko. he facetimed shoko.” you clarified following gojo’s less than pleased expression. nobara didn’t doubt that naoya had caused some tension in your relationship (though she refused to believe it was ever because you had been interested in him) and she wished that you’d switch the topic solely onto that. that was the sort of drama she was after.

“youre telling me he facetimed ieiri to tell her he’d been cheated on?” geto could bearly finish the question without laughing and he shot gojo a look. “odds on him trying to make yn jealous.”

you couldn’t stop yourself from snorting. “oh yeah because hearing all that made me want to leave satoru for that thing.” sarcasm or not, your words were taken literally by your boyfriend who draped all one hundred and ninety centimetres of himself across your body. “oh my god you’re so heavy.”

“it’s just my love for you in physical form. don’t be mean,” he whined.

nobara didn’t even have the energy to laugh quietly at the pathetic nature of her teacher as she felt herself drifting off. it was fine, she thought, only a quick power nap. she’d earned it, watching all those clips expended lots of energy.

“kugisaki?” gojo gently knocked at the young girl’s door. he’d left yuuji and megumi to do laps to check nobara was still alive and well. the illness had made its way through half the school already and while it obviously wasn’t something fatal, he knew better than to take any risks.

he knocked again and waited thirty seconds before he opened the door enough just to peek in and–

“satoru.”

gojo felt his heart drop at the sound of your voice. one he hadn’t heard in almost two years and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so unsteady and thrown off guard. the mere sound of your voice had startled him and gotten more of an upper hand than any curse he’d ever had to exorcise.

although his world had stilled, reality continued on and he was forced to hear himself hum in response. he didn’t have to see the video to vividly remember the day, to remember the smell of the grass and your perfume that were coaxing him into a nap that would make you both late to yaga’s lecture.

“do you think we’ll still be together once high school is over?”

“hope so,” he murmured, half asleep, and gojo wished his younger self was more aware, telling you how much he wanted to be with you, savouring every second he had in your presence rather than sleeping it away.

like that could’ve changed the outcome.

slipping into her room, gojo lifted the laptop off of her sleeping figure (definitely still alive and breathing). with a press of a button, the disk popped out and he set the device onto the ground as he contemplated what to do.

he could break it in half, make it seem like an accident that nobara hadn’t noticed in her ill state. or he could use his cursed technique and completely eviscerate it from existence.

or maybe he could keep it.

gojo gave nobara one last glance as he silently closed her door once more, grateful for the blindfold he wore as he headed back outside to his students.

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this tag list is insane ty all for the support

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