Walter White x Student! Reader
a/n: this is shorter than usual for my fics but lmk if you guys would like chapter two as this was sooooooooo fun to write (one where maybe Walt makes a move on the reader after arguing with Skyler about Ted... ;) )
WARNING(s): Teacher - Student relationship, the reader is big brain, Walt is conflicted icl but when is he not conflicted? nothing inappropriate yet just an allusion to mutual sexual and romantic attraction. READER IS 18 but she is STILL a student so it's a taboo relationship nonetheless
âAre you listening to me?â
You looked up at the man standing in front of your desk, his weight pivoted to one side as his arms were crossed and folded. His green knit sweater looked warm, smiling, you wondered what itâd look like on you, and whether or not heâd find it attractive to see one of his best students wearing his clothes.
âYes, sorry, I just⊠zoned out for a momentâ he sighed and brought a hand to his chin, where his forefinger and thumb grazed the scruff of brown facial hair in thought.
âI donât think you are, y/nâ
You go to open your mouth but close it again when he raises his hand as if to tell you to be quiet.
âYour grades are slipping again, youâve gone from an A+ to a D in less than a few weeks, weâve only just gone over the molecular structures and bonding and you seem to have gotten the working out right but answers wrong⊠I donât get it, itâs like-â and then thereâs a pause, and you fiddle with your nails- eyes staring down at your lap as Mr White seeks out the right way to put it, âitâs like⊠you know what to do, but youâre just intentionally changing the answers from your correct working outâ
You scoff, and he furrows his brows, glasses catching the artificial light in their lenses. âMaybe I just donât understand what to do with my working out once Iâve finished with it,â you argue âThere are so many different routes you have to pursue to find the final answer, maybe I just picked the wrong oneâ shrugging, you rest your forearms on the desk, tipping forward slightly as you do. You draw shapes across the cold surface with your fingers.
âYes but you set it out in such a way that it doesn't make sense for you to pick the wrong one, there are other students who make a mess organizing their answers- they scribble out and write over until itâs almost impossible to make sense of,â his hands motion toward two imaginary groups as he illustrates his point, the hair above his upper lip shifts as he speaks.
âBut your answers are structured in a way itâd be near enough impossible for you to not know which answer is the final one, do you understand my concern?â You nod, and the embarrassment of being found out seeps through the wall of pride youâd tried to sustain. âYouâre my brightest student, so itâs just surprising to see such an obscure mistake in your workâ
Your cheeks burn warm and red, you hope he doesnât notice- itâs pathetic, really. Crushing on your teacher, a cliche that a lot of people found insulting. Youâd tried to suppress your feelings for him, but the little chemistry jokes heâd make sometimes in class alongside how enthusiastic he was about the subject was enough to make you swoon. It was adorable, and you wanted to just pinch his cheeks. Heâd acknowledge your potential in the past: âexcellent as alwaysâ along with other kind messages was scribbled across a majority of your homework and tests, a crudely drawn smiley face with glasses doodled alongside in matching red ink.
But as of recently, heâd been paying less attention to you and your work. Occasionally, youâd stay behind once the bell had rung to ask him chemistry questions and chat, but now whenever you did heâd just shut you down with a dismissive âIâm busyâ or a âmaybe tomorrowâ despite âtomorrowâ sometimes being a Saturday.
You knew heâd still speak to Barry for failing, so you figured that maybe youâd have to start messing up for him to start talking to you again. It was selfish, sure, but you wanted him to like you, to like talking to you as you did with him.
âI-Iâm sorry, Iâve just been a bit..â you try to find an excuse, but when you canât you purse your lips together- your eyes scrunched shut as you prepare yourself for what youâre about to ask, âMr. White, have I done something wrong? I-I know thatâs weird to ask but- hear me out, okay?â
His green eyes widen momentarily, he stumbles for a reply but eventually finds that an âAlrightâ slips past his lips with as much decorum as a baby giraffe trying to find its feet.
âI like your lessons, a lot, theyâre my favorite part of the day, and-â your hands tremble against the surface of the table, so you ball them up and push them down to rest atop your thighs. âI can imagine you're busy, but I feel like Iâve done something to annoy you- you know? Like when I used to ask questions after lessons and weâd talkâŠâ your eyes donât dare meet his, and you feel like youâre going to start crying as the shame and embarrassment bubbles in your chest.
âYouâre the only person I actually feel comfortable opening up to, and I know you still talk to Barry about his work when he messes up, so I figured Iâd-â
â-You decided to intentionally write the wrong answers on the tests to get my attentionâŠâ heâs in disbelief, and you look up, eyes meeting him as he shifts his weight onto his left leg and pinches the bridge between his nose.
âYes, itâs stupid, but I really like talking to you, Mr. White, I like talking with you about Chemistry and I like listening to your⊠weird teacher stories, and shitty-â fuck, â-interesting, jokes⊠I love spending time with you"
You exhale, finally, as it feels like youâve been holding your breath for the last five minutes. Relief overtakes the shame youâd felt, and the anxiety of opening up. It was done now, there was nothing you could do to take back what youâd just said. It wasnât an outright statement admitting your unrequited feelings for him, but he was smart enough to infer that you liked him more than youâd liked anyone else.
âI-Iâm sorry for making you feel like that, Miss l/nâ he starts, leaning against his desk as you meet his stare- one thatâs so familiar but now is like looking at a stranger. âIâve been busy, I- you know Iâve told you about my wife, right?â
Swallowing back the word youâd been trying to ignore, you nod, âyes,â
âWell, you know that itâs been hard to stick around here after hours because of the baby- thereâs just a lot going on at the moment,â and the fact his wife is cheating on him, but he refrains from mentioning that.
âOh, congratulationsâ in an ill attempt to sound happy for the man you were in love with, you manage to sound more disheartened than you wouldâve initially.
Thereâs another awkward silence, you look down at your feet, picking at your fingers. Walter moves from his desk to around the side of yours, he leans his hand on the table and sighs, you hadnât even noticed he was there until his Clark wallabee shoes slip into your peripheral.
âLook, youâre a lovely young lady and I enjoy talking to you, but youâre my student, you're smart enough to know how wrong that is,â he waits for a reaction, and you nod, glancing at him as you take your teeth between your lower lip. Now you really feel like crying. This is a nightmare, you shouldâve just said your imaginary dog died, maybe then youâd avoid this awkward conversation.
âAnd believe me when I say Iâm flattered,â more than flattered, actually. You were an attractive young woman and heâd be lying if he denied having thoughts about you that were similar to those of when heâd first set eyes upon his now wife. Yet still, he valued his job, and he loved his family. Despite how much of a bitch skyler had been recently, they were married, and if someone found out about him having an affair - let alone an affair with a STUDENT - heâd be done for.
âyouâre young, you should be focusing on yourself and your future, with that head on your shoulders youâll without a doubt do amazing things. And Iâm not âjust saying thatâ to appease you.â
You look up at him, and heâs smiling in a way youâd smile at someone whoâs just lost something precious and dear to them.
âI-I didnât mean to feel like this, I just⊠I love everything about you itâs hard not to like you, I- I've always liked older guys, no offense or anything but.. it really is difficult,â you pause, and he goes to add something but you cut him off before he can, âThis was stupid, a stupid idea I know and I shouldâve just waited it out, but⊠can I ask you a question? And be honest with me, please, I wonât tell anyone.â
For a moment he contemplates, but eventually gives in. The look of desperation that glimmers in your eyes as they glaze over with tears was enough to push him over that edge. You had this crush on him, you really did think he was perfect. God, he felt horrible. How little you knew of what heâd done.
âDo you- if-â you sigh, turn to face him, hands in your lap as your cheeks flush- almost matching the red ink that graces your failed test paper, which still sits on the table between the both of you. âIf I wasnât your student, hypothetically, and you saw me in a bar or out in public and I talked to you, would you like me back?â
He wants to say no, but deceiving you after all that is dishonorable. He figured that you deserved the truth after being so open and honest with him now.
You forget youâre sitting in a classroom when you move your hand to his left, which is pressed against the table. Tracing the pads of your fingers over his knuckles- feeling the gold wedding band that fits him perfectly, you smile and he smiles back.
It does boost your ego a little to know that had you not been his student, you wouldâve had a chance with this man. God, it sounded silly now. Crushing on your 50-year-old chemistry teacher. He was a person behind that facade, a father and a husband.
Despite how selfish you could be, you wouldn't force him from that. He was a good man, intelligent- you valued his word.
âYou⊠donât think⊠less of me now, do you?â
He chuckles, itâs low within his chest and he reaches to brush your hair back with his fingers. You close your eyes and melt into the warmth thatâs there. He does it with such care and delicacy, as though youâd break beneath the slightest amount of pressure.
A porcelain doll, pure and fragile.
A/N: alright that's that! let me know what you guys think down below and lmk if you're all up for a part 2...
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