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astroismypassion · 26 days ago

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Scorpio Rising/Pluto in the 1st house/Ascendant Pluto aspect observations

Credit @astroismypassion

❤️‍🔥Scorpio Risings often undergo a physical transformation after major inner healing. They represent metamorphosis and this often shows up literally in their body. After releasing emotional baggage, trauma healing, they look noticeably lighter, sharper or more grounded. They change hair, wardrobe or even facial expressions. They lose or gain weight rapidly, but not from diet, but from energetic shifts. When they purge emotion, this reflects in their body, it's like their body needs to be updated.

❤️‍🔥Scorpio Risings are protective of their emotional core, so they often create subconscious tests to see who is trustworthy. They do this by revealing something that is half-true, provoke someone to see their real face beneath politeness or go quiet, cold, blunt to check how loyalty you are under pressure.

❤️‍🔥Scorpio Risings have a lot of survival tactics, like hypervigilance, emotional restraint and strategic silence. That's why they struggle to relax, overshare or appear vulnerable. Not out of ego, but because they need to stay hidden to stay safe. While this can protect them, it can also sabotage intimacy.

❤️‍🔥Scorpio Risings often have some coping mechanisms that aren't truly theirs, they were installed to survive someone else's trauma, usually a family member.

❤️‍🔥Scorpio Risings hold erotic power even when fully covered, celibate or modest. They radiate sexual intensity and raw life-force energy. And a huge lesson for them is to own this magnetism without shame or guilt.

❤️‍🔥Pluto in the 1st house natives feel like they live multiple lifetimes in one body. They just HAVE TO change. It's survival for them.

❤️‍🔥But Pluto in the 1st house often trigger people who aren’t ready for their own depth, they will attract superficial people, at many points in life.

❤️‍🔥People project onto Pluto in the 1st house native, be it desire, fear, envy or intimidation. Others see themselves when they speak to you.

❤️‍🔥Pluto in the 1st house native's face, eyes and energy feel somewhat confrontational to illusions or like you’re silently calling out someone's lies.

❤️‍🔥Pluto in the 1st house natives experience chronic tension in the gut, pelvis, jaw or shoulders.

❤️‍🔥They often feel “watched” or unsafe in public, even if nothing is wrong.

❤️‍🔥Pluto in the 1st house carries beauty or power that feels dangerous or “too much”.

❤️‍🔥Pluto in the 1st house are here to live an authentic life no matter the cost. But this comes at a price, usually through breakdowns, public exposures, betrayals or identity breakdown. They need to become undeniably themselves, not someone liked by everyone.

❤️‍🔥Also, they are meant to embody the power that others repress, so others can see it's possible, they are not meant to blend in.

❤️‍🔥People either obsess over them or avoid them entirely. This also creates extremes in how people respond to you, it's obsession, stalking, over-sharing or possessiveness. Or sudden ghosting, silent avoidance or unexplained tension. The lesson for them is that they don’t owe anyone access to their field. This happens because, they represent power that can't be controlled.

❤️‍🔥Pluto in the 1st house natives are on the path of the transformer. They are here to face what others run from, this can be either shame, death, power, truth on a soul level or desire. They are capable of guiding others through transformation, but only after they’ve done it themselves.

❤️‍🔥With Pluto Ascendant aspect, for these natives birth came with crisis or drama. You may be born prematurely, there may have been an emergency C-section, near death experience for your mother or you, power outage or family trauma.

❤️‍🔥Even from childhood, these natives always sensed when someone is trying to exert power covertly. They didn't always confront it, but their radar detected it. This gives them "old soul" or detective like presence from an early age.

❤️‍🔥They often attract energy vampires who disrespect their boundaries and drain them. But they also attract people who are emotionally intense, controlling, have an addictive personality or people who need a deep transformation themselves.

❤️‍🔥Pluto Ascendant people can adapt their appearance, behavior or vibe to match their environment, not for approval, but as a survival instinct. They can mute their energy or presence so that others overlook them in a room. Again, this goes back to protective mechanism.

❤️‍🔥They transform their body and this can result in sudden weight loss, drastic haircut, surgery or tattoos.

❤️‍🔥People walk away from a brief encounter with them suddenly questioning their beliefs, life direction or identity.

❤️‍🔥Pluto conjunct Ascendant people were "too serious" or "too intense" for their age, so they were never truly a "child". And usually their childhood involved themes of secrecy, abandonment, betrayal or powerlessness that forced to mature quickly.

❤️‍🔥Pluto conjunct Ascendant shined so bright in childhood, that they felt like they need to "dim" their light in order to appear unthreatening. But the irony is, the more they suppress their power, the more it leaks out in weird, disruptive ways (like unexplainable emotional reactions from others). People could accuse you of being secretive, manipulative or calculating, even when you're not doing it. But their trust issues will reveal their own behaviour.

❤️‍🔥Pluto conjunct Ascendant experiences small identity deaths in a way that their ego breaksdown, but some identity traits as well, it's tied to breakup or a physical accident.

❤️‍🔥Pluto sextile/trine Ascendant possesses intensity, but one that is not threatening (like in conjunction). People are not as negatively threatened by you.

❤️‍🔥Pluto trine Ascendant likes to talk about intense topics and is not awkward about it. You can ask these people about sex, death, trauma and they'll open more about it (unlike square or opposition). They also have great acting abilities!

❤️‍🔥Pluto sextile Ascendant doesn't have that persistent magnetism like conjunction, but instead calculated charm! They are really good at navigating different social circles and therefore can give the vibe of a social climber. They are not born like this (like conjunction), but instead they develop consciously magnetism, charm and powerful presence with age.

❤️‍🔥Pluto sextile Ascendant are more drawn to work on their image, they dress to appear powerful, they tone is intentionally curated too.

❤️‍🔥Pluto opposite Ascendant people are attracting manipulative lovers, dominating bosses, jealous friends until they truly learn to claim their own power.

❤️‍🔥Their relationships, even short-term, are never casual and they leave a lasting emotional imprint. They often become who others project onto them. They attract people with traits they deny or surpress in themselves. They may feel overpowered early in life, but become the dominator later on (or vice versa).

❤️‍🔥Pluto square Ascendant people fought hard to define who they are, often against family, inner shame or the society. There is an inner conflict between how they appear and how they feel inside.

❤️‍🔥They have a tendency to self-sabotage, be secretive or manipulative to protect the most vulnerable parts of themselves.

Credit @astroismypassion

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gffa · 1 year ago

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Osha's backstory episode of The Acolyte fits perfectly with a headcanon I've had forever about Force-sensitive children in the galaxy--that some children feel called to the Jedi and some do not, and that the Jedi look out for this. We see that destiny exists in the Star Wars universe, the Force calls to people to walk certain paths, but that it's still up to them to decide, you still have to make your own choices. (See: Everything about Anakin Skywalker and how the Jedi never brought that up around him, it was always about personal choice and agency. Yes, he was the Chosen One, but he had to choose his path.) From the moment we first meet her, child Osha didn't want to be a witch, she wanted to see more of the galaxy beyond Brendok, she was immediately entranced by the Jedi when they showed up during the ceremony, like a magnet pulling her to them, that she was drawing the Jedi Order symbol long before they ever got there. It wasn't just a sudden way to get out of there, she was feeling this pull towards them long before she ever even met a Jedi. She's the one who first slips out to meet Sol during the ceremony despite being told to hide, she's the one who goes over to talk to Kelnacca before the test, she's the one who fights against her entire family to say she wants this. She's the one who wants this even before she knows there will be other children like her with the Jedi. We don't see the Jedi giving Mae that same nudge, because the Jedi path wasn't meant for her, she didn't want it, and I love that both here and in The Phantom Menace, the Jedi make sure that this is what the child wants, too, that both prequels and High Republic Jedi are shown to take such care, that it's done with the parents' permission, but also getting a sense of what the Force is or isn't calling this person to do and whether they accept it. But Sol gently pushes Osha, not to tell them what they want to hear, but to tell the truth, do you want this? Do you feel like this is right for you? Just as Qui-Gon made sure Anakin knew being a Jedi was a hard choice, the Jedi want you to be sure, want you to feel called to this, because the Force exists, a mysterious destiny exists in this galaxy. It's still your choice, you have to have agency over your choices, it's not just, "What does the Force want?" but instead Sol asking, "What do you want, Osha?" The narrative is careful to point out Sol telling her about his own testing, that he knew he was different from his family, that he was scared at first, but it was clearly his choice. "But you must have the courage to say what you want." The Force called her here, the Force is something that exists within Star Wars and has a will of its own, and some people are not called to this particular path, I don't think Mae was ever meant to be a Jedi, she never wanted it, she never felt that pull. But Osha, like so many other Force-sensitive children tapping into this giant mystical energy field that has a destiny for you if you want it, they are pulled to it and the Jedi take such care with that. Some are meant to walk the Jedi path and some are not, that's something only each individual can figure out for themselves, and the Jedi do their best to honor both the Force's calling and the person's own choices. And if a child resists and pulls away, they let them go, it wasn't right, it wasn't meant for them. But when a young Force-sensitive is practically vibrating in place with how badly they clearly feel this is meant for them, that's something that exists as a thing that really does happen with the Force.

#lumi.txt #star wars #the acolyte #the acolyte spoilers #jedi order #meta

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stupidfuckingwindow · 25 days ago

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How to 'pretty please?' your way into fucking your captive. // Mark Grayson

Notes: This was originally a Lensless test fic before I realized he takes a lot of aspects from multiple variants. Feel free to imagine whoever you want in this. Had a lot of inspiration from @13tinysocks characterization of Lensless and that art they made of Mohawk fingering dregs 💔 Can you tell I'm absolutely normal about mdgf.

Content/warnings: You get kidnapped and almost fuck the guy who did it. Reader could be either female or male, biting, outercourse, whatever you would call touching someone through their clothes. Stalking, dub-con. You get blueballed.

Word count: 702

Ever since Mark had plucked you off the street mid fight and locked you away in his room on a Viltrumite ship parked outside Earth's gravitational field, he'd been staring at you with a kind of expectative glint in his eye that spoke of nothing good for you, or your future. When he wasn't getting into fights, he was bouncing on his heels close behind you, eyes crinkled and smile crooked while he blabbered on about killing some poor soul or squashing rebellions, until you'd respond negatively. Mark gave little indication he cared at all about privacy when you woke up at odd hours of the night to find him cuddled up to you or standing in the corner and watching you sleep, butt ass naked and only barely visible under distant light through the metal shutters over the windows.

He drapes himself over your shoulders as you walk, going increasingly slack until his legs drag behind him on the floor, and you eventually crumple under his weight, hard. He crawls over you, arms circling your waist and face emerging over your shoulder. He rolls onto his back with you in tow, squirming and kicking in his grip. Mark gives a little squeeze that makes you squeak and steals the breath from your lungs. When you go limp, he tightens his grip around your middle, only loosening with disappointment when he doesn't get the reaction he seems to want from you. He whispers close to your ear, cheek squishing against yours. “Aww, come on. Do it again. I like when you struggle.”

He gives another squeeze that makes your ribs and back pop in a way that sets off your nerves before he gives up, but his grip doesn't relinquish. Your head lifts, before you let it fall, the back of your skull banging against his nose and earning you a groan that doesn't sound pained, but instead pleased. You doubt you've done any damage, because there's no crunch of the cartilage on his nose, and your head just winds up pounding. Mark draws his legs up to plant his feet flat on the ground, sitting both you, and himself up.

He sets his hand on your thigh and pauses, fingers lightly pressing into the meat of your leg. When you don't tell him to stop, he brings it to hang over the side of his leg, low and slow in case you want to tell him to fuck off. His other hand comes around and hooks it on the invisible magnetic zipper of the Viltrumite uniform on your body, before he slowly drags it down with a finger, and you tense when the cold air of the ship washes over your skin, flinching from the breeze and eyes squeezing shut. Mark's lips meet your cheek in a gesture that's too sweet to not be backing something that's about to be nefarious. And nefarious it is, because shortly after he's sinking his teeth into the soft flesh, and you elbow him in the stomach hard reflexively.

He doesn't move, or keel, and he's still biting your face like a fucking animal, but the absurdity of it all stops mattering when he's slowly dragging his hand down your middle, and his thumb teasingly toys with the elastic band of your panties, pulling it back and letting it slap against your stomach. You feel him smile against your cheek when you quiet, and he lazily dips his palm to flatten over your clothed crotch. He rubs you through the thin fabric, steadily letting his pace quicken until the material soaks through, and you're melting in his lap, drool forming at the corner of your lip and hips bucking into his hand.

Before a ringing catches your attention, and you're reeled back from the edge of an orgasm when all the touches pull away. He shoves you off his lap and shoots to his feet, eyes darting between the flashing, chirping device attached to his hip, and you. “Sorry, babe. Duty calls.”

You don't get a word in before he's already down the hall, and you're internally cursing him out, legs clamping shut and hands quickly closing your uniform with equal parts embarrassment and frustration.

#RANDOM FIC GO #he's closest in personality to lensless mohawk and sinister so that's who i'll tag #if you see this 13 tiny socks hi hello im a big fan keep up the good work #n.sfw.#mark grayson x you #mark grayson smut #mark grayson x reader #invincible x reader #invincible smut #lensless mark x reader #lensless mark smut #mohawk mark smut #mohawk mark x reader #sinister mark smut #sinister mark x reader

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mariasont · 7 months ago

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hi!!!!

I'm soooo in love your work. bimbo!assistantreader wil always have a special place in my heart!!!

Now i have this of idea that i think can work for either aaron or spencer, but basically bau!reader who kind of always wears the same type of outfit in the field that's always really modest. Buttttt when they kind of like "know" it's just going to be a paperwork day she likes to were skirts... short skirts and Aaron/Spencer are just feral for them...

Can either be fluff of smut... I trust you indefinitely xxx

Short Skirt, Long Day - A.H

a/n: hi hi hi hiiiiiii!!! ugh thank u sm i kinda took this an interesting route so let me know what you think!!!! im also heavily thinking about writing a smutty pt 2 for this but id love to hear everyone’s opinions

masterlist

pairings: perv!aaronhotchner x bau!reader

warnings: 18+ MDNI, suggestive content, aaron being a straight PERV!!! (im into idk man), aaron imagining scenarios he didn’t shouldn’t at work, idk this is quite different from my usual postings but i kinda fuck with it

wc: 1.4k

Aaron Hotchner loved paperwork day.

Days like these meant the ringing of phones and panicked conversations were replaced by the only the sound of air conditioning (when it worked) and the occasional sneeze or cough. It’s the kind of morning he appreciated — time to breathe, to recalibrate without the air of an active case breathing down his neck.

But that's not why his pulse is thrumming more than heavily beneath his skin.

Hotch glances at the clock on his desk. It's early, too early for most of the team to be here yet, save for a couple agents whose faces barely register in his peripheral vision. His focus is elsewhere, fixed on a singular thought. Or, rather, on a singular person.

You.

Hotch leans back in his chair, exhaling slowly as a shameful type of heat rises to his face. It's a little pathetic, he thinks, how predictable he's become, it's not the work that makes these mornings bearable anymore. It's the anticipation.

The knowledge that, any minute now, the elevator doors will part, and you'll step out, wearing something that will completely dismantle his carefully constructed composure.

Hotch had noticed a pattern (of course he did, that was his instinct honed to a razor's edge). In the field, your outfits are a study in practicality: slacks, fitted jackets, muted tones, professional to a T. Nothing flashy, nothing that would draw undue attention. He’d even go as far to say you dressed more modestly than most.

But in the office, when the cases are shelved, and the team is left to wade through stacks of paperwork... it's different.

And it drives him insane.

The image takes root before he can stop it: the curve of your thighs, tantalizingly framed by a skirt that seemed designed to test his limits. The way the fabric molds to you when you move, clinging in places that his eyes are all too quick to follow.

Hotch exhales sharply, clearing his throat as if that could somehow clear his mind. It's unprofessional, he knows this, knows better than to let his thoughts stray so far from where they belong but yet…

The ding of the elevator pulls his attention like a magnet, and there you are. His grip on the pen tightens instinctively, the knuckles blanching as his gaze locks on you.

You're wearing that skirt today — black, fitted, and infuriatingly short, hugging your hips in a way that leaves nothing to the imagination.

He tells himself to look away, and for a second, he manages it — his eyes dropping back to his desk, his breath coming out slow and measured. But that reprieve is fleeting. His gaze flicks back before he can stop it, drawn helplessly to the curve of your waist as you laugh at something one of the other agents say.

You're too good. Too sweet. Too damn oblivious to realize what you're doing to him.

And he knows it's wrong, knows he's toeing a line he has no business approaching. But the way his body reacts to you, the pull you have on him, is beyond reason. It's instinctual, raw, and completely out of his control.

He calls out your name. "Could you come in here for a moment?"

You turn, blinking at him with wide, curious eyes. "Yes, sir?"

"I need you to grab something for me," he replies, his voice level, though every syllable felt like a tightly coiled spring. He motions towards the cabinet near the corner of the room. "The Marcus file. Bottom shelf."

He was a terrible terrible man.

Without hesitation, you step toward the cabinet, crouching slightly as you begin to sift through the lower shelf. The moment your body lowers, his eyes start trailing down where the hem of your skirt lifts, just barely revealing the soft curve of where your thighs meet your ass.

Then, as you bend further, shifting your weight slightly to reach deeper on the shelf, the fabric stretches taut, clinging to your ass in a way that sends a jolt straight through him.

Hotch's throat feels tight, his breathing shallow as he drinks in the sight before him. You're so close, just feet away, and the angle offers him an unobstructed view. The shape of you, the smooth expanse of skin that's always just out of reach in the field, is right there, so achingly close he feels like his chest might explode.

He knows if you dipped any further, your panties would be on display and he couldn’t help but wonder what color you had on.

You’ve always had a meticulous attention to detail, choices leaning towards deliberate but understated at the same time. In the field, you favored muted tones — greys, blacks, navies. But here in the relative safety of the office you allow a little more personality, more femininity.

His mind turns to your preferences, pink, maybe.

Hotch swallows hard, pulse roaring in his ears. The thought gnaws at him, insistent and unrelenting, he needs to know.

“Careful,” he says, feigning concern. “You might need to check further back on the shelf. Sometimes the files get pushed out of sight.”

You glance over your shoulder at him and he swears he could combust. “Further back?”

He nods, leaning back in his chair to appear casual, though his grip on the armrests were anything but. “Yes.”

You turn back to the cabinet, shifting your weight again as you crouch lower, leaning further to search the back of the shelf. The motion sends the bottom of your skirt riding higher, and for a brief, heart stopping moment, the lace of your panties is on full display.

It was a pink barely there strip of fabric.

His mind betrays him, conjuring images he knows he shouldn't entertain. He imagines his hands on you, running over the curve of his hips, gripping your thighs, sliding that damn skirt higher until there's nothing left to hide. The thought of you like this, pliant and completely unaware of the effect you're having on him, makes his pulse pound in his ears. He wonders what you would do if he were to push those panties to the side and slide a finger in you.

You shift again, leaning deeper into the cabinet as your voice drifts back to him, murmuring something about not seeing it. His jaw locks, teeth pressing together as he fights to maintain control. His fingers dig into the armrests of his chair, the leather creaking faintly beneath the strain. It's a futile effort, though. The pressure building in his chest, his body, is relentless.

The heat pools low in his abdomen, simmering and insistent, a sharp pulse of arousal tightening every muscle in his body. He's painfully hard now, the evidence uncomfortably against his slacks, but he doesn't dare move. His mind a blur of want, what he wants to do to you, what he knows he shouldn't do, and the precarious line he's treading just watching you like this.

The tension in his body seems unbearable, and for a fleeting second, he considers how easy it would be to walk over, to let his hand graze your hip, to tilt your chin up so you'd look at him and see the wreckage you've left in your wake.

But he doesn't. He can't.

Instead, he forces himself to remain still, staying rooted, the self-restraint biting and bitter.

"Are you sure it's under here? I still don't see it."

Hotch's lips twitch, the smallest shadow of a smirk threatening to break free on his face. He leans forward, feigning surprise as he picks up the file from the corner of his desk.

"Ah," he says, waving the file. "Looks like it's been right here the whole time."

You straighten abruptly, brushing your hands down your skirt and turning towards him with a soft laugh. "Hotch! So I was practically upside down in that cabinet for nothing!"

He shakes his head, giving a small chuckle to match yours. Not for nothing. The satisfaction still simmers low in his chest, a private indulgence he knows you'll never suspect, the movement was far from wasted.

"My mistake."

"Well, I guess we all have our moments. Let me know if there's anything else you need, okay?"

When the door finally closes behind you, he exhales shakily, the breath spilling out like a confession. Leaning back in his chair, he presses his fingers to his temples, his entire body tense with the effort of restraint. He feels unmoored, like a man balancing on the edge of a precipice, one misstep away from losing everything he’s worked so hard to keep under control.

But for now, he’ll settle for watching, for imagining, for wishing, knowing full well that nothing could ever come of it. And yet, as he glances at the door where you’d just been, a part of him wonders how much longer he can hold out.

It’s going to be an impossibly long day, but the most troubling part of all is how much he’s starting to enjoy the torment.

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#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #perv!aaronhotchner #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner fic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x fem reader #hotch #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x reader

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atlabeth · 6 months ago

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I desperately need you to give me some jealous nikolai lanstov I'm not even jokinh

my love mine all mine

lowkey continuation of bad luck and im with you; can be read standalone though!

pairing: nikolai lantsov x fem reader

summary: after your return to ravka, nikolai's resolve is tested at a ball.

a/n: i have saved this ask since september because i knew one day i would get around to it. i love nikolai lantsov and i dont write jealous fics often so here we go!! this is technically a continuation of bad luck and im with you but you can read it separately. i keep going back to these two for some reason lmao?? idk. theyre childhood friends to lovers with so much strife in between and that's so special to me lmao. but yah enjoy i MISSED WRITING FOR HIM<3

wc: 2.8k

warning(s): nikolai is a lil jealous obviously! small bit of angst, mostly fluff, lil steamy at the end.

Nikolai feels his lip curling, feels his hand tighten on his glass.

This is a party. A ball, more specifically, but a celebration nonetheless. He should be smiling, mingling, talking up some baron or duke in the name of Ravka’s economy. He is a prince, after all—a bastard, second son of a prince that plans to take the throne at that—and he’s just returned from years at sea. It is in his best interest to do what he does best and talk as much as possible. If anything, he should be arm in arm with the Sun Summoner to boost both their positions.

But all he can do is stare at you.

You’re the embodiment of grace. Your practiced smile looks wholly genuine no matter how long you have to keep it up. Your laugh seems to make others smile without even realizing, ringing out clear like church bells. It’s a sound Nikolai knows he would worship to the end of his days, at least.

You stand in the midst of noblemen and Nikolai only recognizes one—Artem Aslanov, a son of nobles that the two of you spent much of your youth with. He wonders if you remember each other as well. He certainly seems to, the way he stands just a bit too close to you, the way he’s absolutely eager for your attention. Nikolai holds back a scoff.

The others are likely from various other Ravkan settlements, though one has to be Kaelish, with his almost offensively ginger hair.

Not that any of it matters, though. Not one of them can tear their eyes away from you as you talk, magnetic with both your words and inherent charm, and they drink up every bit of your presence.

Something stirs inside Nikolai at the sight. Logically, he knows he has little to worry about—he knows this is your duty as much as it is his, and you care little for any man’s affections but his.

But Saints, his heart does not want to listen to silly things such as logic. In this moment, Nikolai is reminded of the truth at its barest—you’re a noblewoman of good breeding, quite extravagant wealth, and considerable beauty. Your years at sea have caused you to develop a quick wit and sharp tongue, and it only serves to make you more appealing.

Your flashy return to Ravka has made you perhaps the most desirable lady at court, and Nikolai is forced to realize he no longer has you all to himself anymore.

Nikolai has planned to come back and take the Lantsov throne for years now, but he can’t help but long for those days again. Teaching you all the ins and outs of the Volkvolny, how to do every sailor’s knot he knows, showing you the misty mountains of the Wandering Isle and the rolling fields of Novyi Zem and the wonderful world outside of Ravka’s courtly constraints.

Taking over the ships of slavers and clashing blades with drüskelle and watching a thousand sunrises and sunsets together, unbound by anything but tangled up in every part of each other.

It was almost laughable. You were worried of Nikolai charming others upon your return, and yet here he was, unable to look away from you for even the slightest second because he was jealous of some noble son.

“Your Highness, are you alright?”

Nikolai turns back to the conversation he is meant to be paying attention to, already offering a smile that he hopes will make up for his utter lack of focus. Of course, he doesn’t really care what this Kerch merchant thinks of him, and Nikolai’s word will probably mean little to his parents at the moment. They’re still quite angry at him for all his Sturmhondish escapades. This man, whose name he has already forgotten, doesn’t seem to know he’s wasting his time.

“Of course I am,” he says, and he pats him on the shoulder. He means to say more, but then he catches a glance of Artem pulling you to the side, his hand lingering on your waist much too close for comfort. He’s surprised he doesn’t break his glass with how his fingers clench around it even tighter.

“Then I would be honored for you to consider my—”

“I apologize, Jansen.” Nikolai ignores the look on his face at both his interruption and being called the wrong name as he drops his hand. “It’s been wonderful chatting with you, but I’m afraid I must take my leave.”

Nikolai departs before he can get another word out. He’s sure he’ll get an earful later for his ‘disrespect’ but again, he really could not care less.

He expects to have to weave his way through the crowd, but a path parts for him wherever he moves. Benefits to being a Lantsov prince rather than another privateer on the sea, he supposes. He feels a number of eyes on him as he walks, but he’s focused on one thing and one thing only.

Artem seems to be as well, seeing as he doesn’t even look up while he continues talking to you. Nikolai doesn’t blame him for being enraptured, but he does wonder what he thinks that boorish smile will do to you.

Nikolai exclaims your name as he comes up next to you, sliding his arm around your waist like he’s done a thousand times before and claiming his place at your side. “I’ve been looking for you, milaya. You’ve been awfully popular tonight.”

Your gleaming gaze turns to him and Nikolai feels like he can melt. It doesn’t matter how many times you look at him—not even Alina can muster up something to rival your brightness.

“Nikolai!”

Again, the way you say his name makes him weak at the knees. The poshness of your Ravkan faded while you were at sea around common sailors and vagrants, and though he can tell you’re trying your best to hide it in the name of courtly etiquette, it still bleeds through. He adores your accent, how it shows the woman you’ve become rather than the girl you ran away from.

“I’ve been looking for you,” you counter as you lean into him. You’ve applied some fanciful perfume, and it’s intoxicating. He has to stop himself from inhaling deeply—he has little shame when it comes to you, but he’s got to have some poise. “You’re the belle of the ball, Mister Prince.”

“And you’re the apple of everyone’s eye, lapushka,” he says. “Especially mine.”

Your heartbeat has been steadily increasing ever since he slotted himself at your side, and he can feel it speed even more with his words. It makes Nikolai smile without even fully realizing it.

He feels Artem’s gaze on him all the while, and Nikolai chooses to ignore it until now. He looks up, making sure his eyes widen cartoonishly and his smile deepens with the same caliber. “Aslanov! I’m so sorry, I didn’t even notice you!”

“Your Highness,” he says, polite but terse as he bows his head. “It’s good to see you—it has truly been too long.”

“Oh, no need for titles,” Nikolai admonishes. “We’re all friends here, are we not?”

He puts particular emphasis on that word, and Artem shifts ever so slightly under Nikolai’s gaze. So he makes him nervous—good.

“We are,” he agrees, and he looks back at you. “We were merely catching up—it has been years since I last had the good fortune to be in your presence.” Artem smiles at you once again, far more genuine than anything he’s given Nikolai. “Of course, I look forward to hearing about everything you learned at university.”

“I’ve certainly learned a lot,” you say. Very tongue-in-cheek—you don’t even try to hide it.

Of course. The cover story for Nikolai’s being away from court was his apprenticeships, culminating in his studies at the University of Ketterdam—it would be a shame of the highest order for your parents to admit you ran away to avoid the marriage they’d planned for you, and even more so to admit it had gotten their daughter kidnapped by slavers, so they simply said you joined him there.

Advancing your studies for a better view, they’d spouted. We want our heir to be well-educated on all matters of the world. Nikolai knows you learned more on the seas by his side than you would have in a classroom staring at endless amounts of books. He only regrets he can’t shout how amazing you’ve been for the past few years from the rooftops.

“Perhaps we could discuss it privately some time.” Nikolai will give it to him; his smile is a bit more charming this time. He still wants to punch it off him. “You know, my family has only refined our winemaking over the years—we’d have a wonderful time with a bottle of our finest red—”

“Unfortunately, it will have to wait,” Nikolai cuts in before you can respond. He can’t help it—he’s raring to have you to himself, and he doesn’t know how much more he can take of Artem’s flirting. “My parents are eager to speak to you, darling. We’ll see you around, Aslanov.”

He pulls you away, once again feeling Artem’s eyes on the two of you. He purposefully pulls you closer against him—your warmth against him does wonders to quell the spike of jealousy in his chest.

“You really are impossible,” you say wryly, but you make no move to part from his side as he leads you through the crowd.

“I’m just making sure he understands the situation,” Nikolai says innocently.

“We were just talking,” you say. “You know, it has been years.”

“You were,” he agrees. “But our friend here was very interested in trying to be more. Couldn’t you tell?”

You laugh and you place your hand on his chest. “Nikolai Lantsov, are you jealous?”

“He was talking about his family’s vineyard.” He smiles back at you in turn. He can’t help the bit of bravado that trickles in. “For me to be jealous, I’d have to think he had a chance.”

“Saints, you are!” you exclaim. You stop, halting him in turn, and you grin at him with a twinkle in your eye. Again, he smiles subconsciously just at the sight of it. “Nikolai, I cannot believe you!”

“How?” he asks, cocking his head boyishly. “Have you caught a glimpse of yourself tonight?”

“I’ve looked at myself in the reflection of every glass,” you say dryly. “After all the time spent in sea-faring clothes, it’s very strange to be back in gowns.”

“Then you should know how absolutely stunning you are,” he says. “Breathtaking, showstopping, the very image of perfection…” Nikolai runs his finger over the embroidery on one of your off-the-shoulder sleeves. The rest of his hand lingers on your bare skin, and he longs to remove the barrier his gloves have created.

“And yet it still doesn’t beat how you look in a privateer’s garb,” Nikolai says.

He places his hand over yours and brings it up from his chest. He entangles your fingers and uses the grasp to pull you even closer to him, your chests nearly touching. The warmth of your body tempts him to go even further, but he holds back.

“Really?” you ask. “This gown cost more vlachkas than anyone deserves, took the labor of a small army to create, and weighs as much as you do, and you like me more in that dingy jacket with pants that smell like gunpowder?”

“Oh, yes,” Nikolai nods. “They don’t just smell like gunpowder—they make your rear look very appealing.”

You laugh louder than you should and it draws eyes in your direction. You don’t pay them any mind, gaze still locked on Nikolai, as you hit him on the chest.

“You still have the mind of a sailor, I see,” you drawl. “But I must admit I also miss it. The simplicity, if anything.”

“Just because I didn’t keep a king’s mantle on deck doesn’t mean I wasn’t outfitted in the same gaudy way,” Nikolai says. “A Lantsov must always be prepared, you know.”

“Well, I used to hate that blue frock of yours, especially when we first reunited,” you muse. You extract your hand and trail your fingers down his current coat—he shivers at your touch even through the material. “Now I think I prefer it over anything else in your wardrobe.”

He frowns. “You hated my coat?”

“I hated a lot of things at the time,” you say wryly. Your hand finds its way back to his and you intertwine them together again. “Besides, it’s grown on me.”

Nikolai chuckles, and the two of you fall silent when you shift and rest your head on his shoulder. You’ve managed to find your way to the edge of the ballroom, and it gives you a little more privacy. You stand together, watching as everyone mingles, half bearing a fake smile and the other half lying through their teeth. He didn’t think the Ravkan court would like to think they had more in common with his lying, cheating, stealing crew than they thought.

“So,” Nikolai says, finally breaking the silence, “is being back everything you’ve imagined?”

You huff. “Hardly. Everything is so… restrained.”

He hums in acknowledgement. “Speaking of restrained, have your parents gotten over their fit yet?”

Your laugh is sharper this time. “Once again, hardly. You’d think I murdered the queen the way they’re treating me.”

Nikolai expected that, to be honest. He insisted on being by your side in the initial reunion and they didn’t dare act out of turn in front of royalty, but you said the moment you returned to your palace apartment with them, they yelled at you loud enough to be heard in Novyi Zem.

“They should be thankful,” Nikolai scoffs. “It’s like they don’t even care what nearly happened to you because of their haste to marry you off.”

“I don’t even like to think about it,” you murmur. He feels you shiver and he pulls you even closer to him. “But I was right—they want me to be who I was before I left. They’re even convinced that they can get me to agree to the marriage they’ve got planned.”

His frown deepens. “Saints, must I sweep you off your feet in front of all of Ravka to get everyone to realize you’re a taken woman? I am a very good shot, but I’ve only got so many bullets—”

“Nikolai,” you interrupt with a laugh, raising your head to look him in the eye. He’s glad to see the lightness has returned. Your near fate isn’t a subject either of you like to talk about. “You don’t need to worry, and you certainly don’t need to worry about that.” You cup his cheek with your hand and he leans into your touch. “If one thing has stayed the same through all of this, it’s that you’re the only one out there for me. After all the pomp and circumstance you have to perform with Alina is over, you can tell them yourself.”

“Good,” Nikolai says with a slight smile. “Because I don’t think I can stand to hear Aslanov talk about the grapes his family’s been growing for another second.”

You laugh again, and you lean in to press a kiss to his lips. Nikolai beats you to it as he covers your hand with his own, using his other to draw you even closer. Practically every part of you is touching as he kisses you like a starving man, with your lips against his and your perfume invading his senses and your soft moan that’s muffled against his mouth. After a night spent away from your side and having to watch other men compete fruitlessly for your affections, he might as well be.

When you finally pull away, lipstick a mess and pupils dilated and expression nothing less than adoration, it takes everything Nikolai has in him not to take your face in his hands and do it all over again. He wants to mess up your hair, your makeup, kiss your lips until they’re swollen and ravish, worship your body until you can think of nothing but him, say nothing but his name.

“Nikolai,” you gasp, interrupting his sinful thoughts, “do you want to get out of here for a bit?”

Whatever restraint he previously had dissolves with your words as he kisses you again, harder this time. You’re water when he’s dying, a lifeboat when he’s drowning, the very air he needs to breathe. Everything has come to a head after such a boring, strength-testing night, and all Nikolai wants is you.

He brings you even closer with the arm he has around your waist, already starting to pull you along as he heads towards the doorways. He’s sure to stick to the walls, not wanting to draw more attention than necessary when even the flushed warmth of your heated skin through his jacket is enough to drive him crazy.

Nikolai doesn’t know how he ever spent seven years away from you. He could barely handle half a ball.

“More than anything,” he breathes.

#nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov x you #nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov fic #nikolai lantsov fluff #nikolai lantsov angst #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone fic #grishaverse x reader #sadie writes

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nasa · 10 months ago

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Student Experiments Soar!

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Have you ever wondered what it takes to get a technology ready for space? The NASA TechRise Student Challenge gives middle and high school students a chance to do just that – team up with their classmates to design an original science or technology project and bring that idea to life as a payload on a suborbital vehicle.

Since March 2021, with the help of teachers and technical advisors, students across the country have dreamed up experiments with the potential to impact space exploration and collect data about our planet.

So far, more than 180 TechRise experiments have flown on suborbital vehicles that expose them to the conditions of space. Flight testing is a big step along the path of space technology development and scientific discovery.

The 2023-2024 TechRise Challenge flight tests took place this summer, with 60 student teams selected to fly their experiments on one of two commercial suborbital flight platforms: a high-altitude balloon operated by World View, or the Xodiac rocket-powered lander operated by Astrobotic. Xodiac flew over the company’s Lunar Surface Proving Ground — a test field designed to simulate the Moon’s surface — in Mojave, California, while World View’s high-altitude balloon launched out of Page, Arizona.

Here are four innovative TechRise experiments built by students and tested aboard NASA-supported flights this summer:

1. Oobleck Reaches the Skies

Oobleck, which gets its name from Dr. Seuss, is a mixture of cornstarch and water that behaves as both a liquid and a solid. Inspired by in-class science experiments, high school students at Colegio Otoqui in Bayomón, Puerto Rico, tested how Oobleck’s properties at 80,000 feet aboard a high-altitude balloon are different from those on Earth’s surface. Using sensors and the organic elements to create Oobleck, students aimed to collect data on the fluid under different conditions to determine if it could be used as a system for impact absorption.

2. Terrestrial Magnetic Field

Middle school students at Phillips Academy International Baccalaureate School in Birmingham, Alabama, tested the Earth’s magnetic field strength during the ascent, float, and descent of the high-altitude balloon. The team hypothesized the magnetic field strength decreases as the distance from Earth’s surface increases.

3. Rocket Lander Flame Experiment

To understand the impact of dust, rocks, and other materials kicked up by a rocket plume when landing on the Moon, middle school students at Cliff Valley School in Atlanta, Georgia, tested the vibrations of the Xodiac rocket-powered lander using CO2 and vibration sensors. The team also used infrared (thermal) and visual light cameras to attempt to detect the hazards produced by the rocket plume on the simulated lunar surface, which is important to ensure a safe landing.

4. Rocket Navigation

Middle and high school students at Tiospaye Topa School in LaPlant, South Dakota, developed an experiment to track motion data with the help of a GPS tracker and magnetic radar. Using data from the rocket-powered lander flight, the team will create a map of the flight path as well as the magnetic field of the terrain. The students plan to use their map to explore developing their own rocket navigation system.

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The 2024-2025 TechRise Challenge is now accepting proposals for technology and science to be tested on a high-altitude balloon! Not only does TechRise offer hands-on experience in a live testing scenario, but it also provides an opportunity to learn about teamwork, project management, and other real-world skills.

“The TechRise Challenge was a truly remarkable journey for our team,” said Roshni Ismail, the team lead and educator at Cliff Valley School. “Watching them transform through the discovery of new skills, problem-solving together while being driven by the chance of flying their creation on a [rocket-powered lander] with NASA has been exhilarating. They challenged themselves to learn through trial and error and worked long hours to overcome every obstacle. We are very grateful for this opportunity.”

Are you ready to bring your experiment design to the launchpad? If you are a sixth to 12th grade student, you can make a team under the guidance of an educator and submit your experiment ideas by November 1. Get ready to create!

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

#NASA #STEM #middle school #high school #experiment #YouTube

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bloomzone · 2 months ago

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2025 : #23 Want less become more

"The more things go smoothly for someone, the smoother they will continue to go". No matter what you're going through right now, you must keep telling yourself: I will get better and better. Please live life with a positive and optimistic attitude. Many girls find themselves in situations like this right before the year-end evaluation, they start scratching their heads like crazy, thinking: "It’s over. I’m going to mess this up."

We’re always worried in advance about things that haven’t even happened yet. We anticipate our anxiety, get more and more tense, and feel like we can’t relax at all. But overthinking only destroys your luck. A person cannot create and defend at the same time. When you obsess over “what if I fail,” your brain automatically shuts out the solutions. That’s why the more you fear something, the more likely it is to happen.

Overthinking reduces decision-making effectiveness by 40%. And 85% of the things we worry about never actually happen. Those girls whose lives suddenly start going smoothly it’s not because they’re lucky, but because they’ve mastered the law of magnetic field selection. What you focus on is what you attract. Today I’ll share three steps to align with positive energy. 💭 ( this blog is inspired from the lucky Vicky mindset wish I already introduced click here )

first In the morning, look in the mirror and say: Three good things will happen today. Trust me, your subconscious will automatically help you filter out three matching scenarios because the brain actively seeks evidence to validate your prediction. If this still doesn’t quite make sense to you, let me give you the reverse example: if you constantly worry that you u will fail in a history test for example, you may end up experiencing exactly that outcome.That’s because you’ve already assumed it will happen. So everything you do and every worry you have is actually you looking for proof of that assumption. This is something the people around you may never tell you.

second set up an “anxiety trash bin.” Every week, set aside 30 minutes to write down all your worries on paper and then tear it up. Give your anxiety a boundary, so it doesn’t spill over and contaminate the rest of your time.Just focus on doing what you actually want to do. Often we feel like we didn’t do much in a day, and it leaves us in a slump. That’s usually because our mental energy was drained by anxiety and worry.

third practice the “5% possibility” mindset. When you start thinking, what if I fail?, immediately ask yourself: What is the 5% chance that I succeed?When you think, What if the project flops?, change your thinking to: What can I do to increase the chance of success by 5%? When you come across as confident, the chances of success increase significantly. So sometimes faking confidence is actually a great tactic because the more you pretend, the more you start to believe it. That’s another form of positive self-suggestion. As Laozi said "A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step."

⚠️ : be careful not to build your confidence solely on pretense. Fake confidence without effort or growth can lead to arrogance or poor preparation. Use it as a stepping stone not a mask.

but true smooth-sailing in life doesn't mean having no setbacks it means you no longer waste your energy fearing those setbacks. When you stop feeding your fears, the opportunities that were once blocked by anxiety will naturally return to you.

Like do you ever remember one thing you once worried about that never actually happened. You’ll realize you’re much luckier than you think !

and finally remember this :

“Money flows to those who don’t lack money. Love flows to those who don’t lack love. Whatever you lack, the world will take away even more. But whatever you have, the world will keep giving you more.”

What it means is when you act from a place of lack like desperation, insecurity, or fear you unconsciously push things away. You may chase money, love, or success so anxiously that it repels the very thing you want. The world picks up on that energy.

But when you live with the mindset that you already have enough even if it’s just a little you move with confidence, gratitude, and trust. That energy attracts more of what you desire. People trust you more. Opportunities find you. You show up stronger. And so, what you already have grows.

Example:If you feel like you’re unlovable and act out of fear of being abandoned, you might unintentionally drive people away. But if you believe you're already loved and worthy, you attract relationships that reflect that ..

always love and put yourself first 🪄

@bloomzone ⌨️👛

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rosenclaws · 3 months ago

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Suffering || Logan Howlett x Reader

summary: You've been taken by an enemy mutant group and Logan is going nuts. He's the first to jump to action when the team thinks they've got a lead. But something isn't right and only Logan seems to know it.

warnings: (I tried to make this as gn as possible but lmk if I can make it better ty) angst, kidnapping, injuries, violence, implied torture , hurt/comfort, self doubting Logan, anger issues Logan, logan stabs someone oops. Happy ending

wc: 3.5k

a/n: I FINALLY WROTE SOMETHING GUYS. Okay so this is loosely based on the song Suffering from Epic The Musical. I say loosely bc it's really loose lmao. But I'm happy to finally have something out for you guys to read and it's my favorite (hurt and angst hehe) I really hope you guys enjoy! btw the readers powers are based on the Mutant Elixir

It had been 48 Hours since you had been taken and everyone was on edge. But no one was worse off than Logan. He was a complete wreck and taking it out on everyone else. He hasn't eaten or slept since. Just replaying that stupid mission over and over in his head. He swirls the half melted ice in his empty cup around as he closes his eyes.

"Logan!" You cried out as the dragged you away from him.

He roars as he tries to fight the magnetic field that was pulling him away from you. He could feel his muscles ripping apart and knitting together as he tried and tried.

"Look out!" His eyes going wide as they jammed a needle right into your neck.

Your hand that was reaching for him falls limply to your side as you hit the ground hard. They take you away, ignoring Logan's threats as he screams and roars. By the time the team responds to his SOS signal it's too late.

You're long gone.

This whole damn thing had been a trap. You were too great to ignore. Unimaginable power at your fingertips. The power to manipulate biological material. Meaning that you could heal the sick, kill someone with a single touch, you could even raise the dead. But you never wanted your powers to be used for anything but good. So you heal.

You're the school nurse essentially and you love every moment of it. Helping kids who get hurt and healing the team when they come back from missions. You don't dare tap into the darker side of your powers. In fact you're rarely on the field to do so. But only on rare occasions do you join the team. It's how the lured you out. They knew you couldn't resist coming if there was a group of children in need of your help.

It was just you and Logan. The intel they had received told them that there was an abandoned mutant testing site with test subjects trapped in the building who needed immediate care. So it was just the two of you. It all happened so fast.

The moment you two walked in the building Logan knew something was wrong. He tried to act but they were quicker. They were a group of mutants who wanted more power. They wanted to take over the world and use you to do it.

The ride back was quiet as Logan seethed with rage. No one dared speak to him and as soon as they landed he made a beeline right to Charles. Slamming his hands on the his desk and demanding to know where the hell he got that information. Because he was going to tear them limb from limb.

It took hours for him to calm down enough to talk about what happened and now he's stuck waiting for something. Anything.

"If you keep squeezing that glass you're going to break it. Again."

Ororo calm voice makes him clench his jaw. He places the glass down before glancing up at her. She sighs before sitting in a chair across from him.

"We're going to find them Logan."

"And what if we don't? What if we're too late?!" He bites back.

His voice is filled with anger. Ororo doesn't flinch as Logan takes the glass and throws it against the wall. It shatters into a million tiny pieces as his chest heaves.

"Have you told them?" Logan's eyes widen as he bares his teeth.

"Told them what?"

"That you're in love with them." Ororo says like it's the most obvious thing in the world. To anyone who wasn't you or Logan it was.

"The fuck are you talking about?" He says lowly, almost like a growl. She sighs as she gets up and rests a hand on his shoulder. The defenses he puts around his heart are clear to anyone. Especially Ororo.

"Logan, it's okay to let yourself feel sometimes. You don't always have to be the heartless one." She hums as the tension slowly leaves his body.

"What good has having a heart gotten me huh? I've got a trail of bodies 'Ro and now..." He closes his eyes as he sinks back into the chair. A tired look on his face.

"Now it's lookin' like they're gonna be one of them." He mumbles.

Logan's feelings are complicated. They always have been. He hides them away, locks them with a key and tosses that key into the fucking ocean. Logan knows what he is. He's never thought for once he's anything but a killer. The blood on his hands could never be washed away. To him, it doesn't matter how man people he's saved. To save those people required bloodshed. Whether it's justified is up in the air. He's a beast. An animal. And you...you're everything he's not.

You have power one could only dream of. Temptation haunts you every single day knowing what you could do if with the snap of your fingers. Yet you choose good every single time. You choose to be kind and use your omega level powers to cure a kids headache or patch them up and give them a damn lollipop on the way out. Whether or not he loves you, whether you feel the same way. It doesn't matter.

He won't taint your beauty with his mess.

This just proves everything he's been telling himself. He's not good enough for you. He can't protect you. You called for him. You sounded so fucking scared and they took you while he watched. He can't handle another body on his hands.

Especially not yours.

Ororo sees the conflict brewing in him and it pains her to see her friend in such distress. She kneels down near his chair and leans in close.

"Scott doesn't want me telling you this, but we think we have a lead. We aren't sure but we think we know where they're holding them." Logan shoots out of the chair.

"Tell me. Now."

It takes Logan all of 10 minutes to barge into Charles' office, demand to leave, and tell Scott to fuck off when he tried to stop him. He was suited up and in the jet by the time the rest of the team even caught up to him.

"What are you waiting for? Let's go." He buckles himself in the chair, ignoring the looks his friends give each other as they slowly follow him onto the jet.

They know there's a chance this is another trap or a dead end but no one has the heart to tell Logan no. He's too determined. If they say no he'll just run off by himself. Logan doesn't listen to the plan. He has a fucking plan. It's find you. He doesn't need anything else.

He's out of the jet when it lands. His sense can pick up a few strangers and he barely listens to the comms as he barrels his way into the warehouse. It's always some abandoned warehouse isn't it Logan thinks as he slams a guard to the ground. But something catches his attention. Your scent. He can smell you. You're here. Logan moves as quietly as he can through the dark halls. It's quiet. Too quiet.

"L-Logan?" He spins around and sees you limping your way into his view. Your lip is busted and you're covered in bruises and blood. He hurries over to you and grabs your face in his hands, checking over your injuries.

"Oh Logan thank goodness you're here. I could barely fight them off." You bury your face in his chest as he pulls you in for a hug. Logan wraps his arms around you but something feels...wrong.

You smell off. Like there's a faint smell of you. The warm vanilla and cherries he always smells when he's around you. But it's not on you. It's like someone took a perfume bottle and sprayed themselves with you. Underneath is a vile smell. Acidic.

But Logan doesn't let his face shift, he stays calm. Not wanting to alert something might be wrong.

"Yeah Darling what happened?" Logan lets go of you and you grab his hand and try leading him towards the exit.

"It's a long story but we really need to go." You tug on his hand but he doesn't budge.

"Were there others where they held you?" He ask and you look at him weirdly.

"Um, I don't know? Maybe?" You question before something seems to shift in your face.

Strike 1

"Logan I'm scared they might come back." Your voice changes into one of fear at the drop of a hat.

"Hey I won't let them take you again, but I have to see if there are others. What can you tell me about what's down there?" He says calmly, his hands resting on your arms. You stay quiet and Logan pushes again.

"Can you lead me down there darling?"

"I...I guess so." There's a cracking on the intercom and Scott's voice comes through.

"Did you find her?" He asks and he sees your ears perk up.

"Is that Cyclops?" Cyclops? The last time you called Scott Cyclops was years ago.

Strike 2

"Yeah, it is." He says flatly. Pressing his ear to the comms he lets the team know he's found you.

"I got them, but we're going to check out the whole place to make sure no one else is here." He places a hand on your back and tells you to lead the way.

As you walk in front of him he starts to buzz the comm. Every time he presses the button it creates this annoying noise.

Beep. Beep. Beeeep. Beep.

Beep. Beeeep.

Beeeep. Beep. Beeeep.

Beep.

F-A-K-E

Back on the jet Scott freezes, he looks to the rest of the team and silently tells them to surround the building.

"Which way did you come from?" He asks as you walk through these dark hallways.

"This way, or maybe this way. I don't know it was all such a blur." You whine.

"Can we please go back to the mansion? I might be able to remember more after a good nights sleep." You ask but Logan keeps pushing you.

"I promise after this we'll get back to the mansion." He says gently.

You sigh but continue on. Logan notices the same scratches on the wall. A pool of grease keeps popping up in the corner. You're leading him in circles. He does notice your eyes keep darting to the left. Every time you pass a certain hallway. You look to the left. It appears to be an empty wall but Logan has a feeling it's more than that.

"I'm sorry Logan, I don't know where I'm going." You cry as you stop in the middle of the hall.

"It's alright darling, I just have one more question." He hums as he slowly backs you up against the wall. You look up at him with those sweet eyes and Logan smiles. He leans in close and suddenly his grip grows tight.

"Where the fuck are you keeping them?" He growls. His façade breaks. He's sick and tired of this game.

"What are you talking about Logan. I'm right here." Your imposter squirms against his grip but he slams them against the wall harshly.

"Come on bub, you think I'm an idiot. You think wearing their clothes and putting on their face is enough to fool me?" He chuckles darkly as his claws unsheathe. He brings the tips of his claws to their throat.

"I know that face bub, which means I know what it looks like when you lie. So I'll give you one fucking chance. Where. Are. They?"

"Okay okay!" Logan keeps his claws right where they are as the imposter shows their real face.

It's a someone apart of that damn rouge mutant group. He's seen their picture once or twice but didn't know their mutation was this.

"I don't know where they are!" They cry as Logan digs the tips of his claws into their arm.

"I swear!" Logan notices their eyes dart back to that same wall.

"Strike 3 darling." He spits as he digs his claws into their stomach.

He lets them drop to the floor. The rest of the team can handle that. He walks over to the wall and starts knocking on the wall. It's solid all the way through, until he hits in one spot.

He looks closer and sees peeling wallpaper. He takes his claws and slashes the wallpaper to shreds, revealing a door that has the doorknob taken off. With all his might he slams his shoulder against it over and over until he breaks down.

"Logan?" He around until he sees you in the corner of the room. Chained to the wall. You look tired, bloody, and have bruises on your face.

"Oh sweetheart," He runs to you. Kneeling down and caressing your face softly as he checks your injuries.

"Can't..use my powers. They wanted me to do horrible things but I said no." Your breath is labored as you try and explain yourself but Logan shushes you gently.

"You did so well." He coos as he reaches up and pulls the chains out of the wall. Then breaks them off your wrists. They're raw and red. Probably from rope. You're so weak and you practically fall right into his arms.

"I'm so fucking sorry." He chokes out as he pulls you close.

"Hey, don't cry for me old man." You tease tiredly. You smile but it doesn't reach your eyes. Logan presses his forehead against yours. It's you. It's 100% you. He breathes in and smells Vanilla and Cherries.

"I let you down, I couldn't protect you." He grabs your face and pulls it closer to his. His lips part slightly as he squeezes his eyes shut.

"I thought I lost you and I never got to tell you how I feel. That I..." He trails off with a whisper.

His eyes shine with tears but he doesn't let them fall. You shush him gently. Seeing this side of Logan is rare and you hate to see the pain in his eyes. Something tells you this isn't the first time Logan has lost someone close.

"Hey, you saved me Logan. You did. You knew it was a fake." You hum and he just shrugs. He doesn't ever care to see his own success. He just brushes off his good deeds in favor of focusing on everything he's done wrong and it hurts to see.

"It was obvious really, didn't even smell like you."

"How often do you smell me?" You ask and Logan's eyes widen.

"I'm just teasing," You place your hands on his cheeks and smile.

You could cry. You knew he'd come but a part of you was so damn scared. Terrified what these people might do to you. But you don't want Logan to know. He already blames himself enough. He came like a knight in shining armor and found you.

"I love you Logan, you don't have to say it back but-" He cuts you off with a fierce kiss. Smashing his lips to yours in a messy, desperate fashion.

"I fucking love you." He groans as he tilts your head up to kiss you deeper. The kiss feels like a touch of heaven. You don't want it to end but you can feel your body start to give out on you. You refused to sleep, to let your guard down while you were here. So once you're in the arms of Logan everything just gives out.

"Hey, wait stay with me sweetheart." Logan says in a panicked voice as you fall into his arms.

"I'm okay, promise. Just need to rest." You hum. Resting your head against his chest you fall asleep, feeling completely safe in his arms.

Logan presses a kiss to your forehead as he carries you out of the room. He tenses when he sees a trail of blood towards the door. Though when he steps out into the main building he sees the team standing tall among the rouge group.

This was planned to be a trap, to take the fake back home to be a spy. But once Logan figured it out they signaled to the rest of them. Unfortunately the team was there before they could try anything. He nods silently to Scott and he leaves to go back to the jet, letting them clean up the mess.

He sits you comfortably in his lap and drapes a blanket over your body. You stir and Logan freezes, not daring to move a muscle until you go back to sleep. It's not long before the team shows back up. Logan hasn't felt this sense of relief in years. He leans against the chair with his eyes closed.

"Hey Logan, that was really smart of you to signal us that way." Jean says, impressed with Logan's quick thinking.

"Thanks Red, I knew Boy scout over here would know Morse code." Logan gestures to Scott who only looks slightly offended this time.

"Yeah but how did you know Morse code?" She asks and Logan shrugs.

"I'm 170 years old. You learn to pick up on a few things." He says with a deadpan look on his face. She smiles and Logan's lips turn into a smirk.

When they land back at the mansion Logan ignores the team debrief, he'll tell them later. He carries you to his bed and tucks you in, choosing to sit and wait for you to wake up. He dozes off for a while, only waking when he hears your voice.

When he opens his eyes he sees you waking up. Groaning as you clutch your head. Slowly your injuries start to disappear, your powers are working again. It doesn't take long for you to rid yourself of the bruises and the headache. But the dried blood stays. Silently Logan goes over to the bathroom and comes back with a wet towel.

"You don't have to." You mumble but Logan shoots you a sweet "shut up I'm doing this" look. So you let him. He takes his time cleaning you up until there's no trace of it left.

"How did you know it wasn't me? I mean other than the smell." You ask, the question you're dying to know. You think you'd be able to pick out a Logan doppelganger but not with the certainty he had.

"Like I said, it was obvious sweetheart. I asked to look for others and they didn't want to." He sits on the bed and tilts your head up to make sure he's gotten all the blood off.

"The you I know would have told me to leave you and help anyone else who might have been down there." He kisses your cheek and you feel your heart flutter.

"Plus you're a terrible liar. Your face gives it away every time." He teases and you scoff.

"I'm not that bad." Logan gives you a look and you just huff.

"Okay fine maybe I'm bad. But you really noticed all that?"

"Of course I did, I notice a lot about you. I know you sweetheart." You lean over and kiss him again.

He can see in your eyes that you're not okay. Most people wouldn't after an experience like that. But you put that brave face on and it kills him just a little. You shouldn't have to do that for him. You never should have been in that position in the first place.

"I'm sorry for ever letting them take you." He whispers.

"It's not your fault Logan." You're so forgiving in nature it makes his head spin sometimes. He should have had your back, he couldn't help you. They hurt you. He can feel himself getting riled up just at the thought.

"Easy Logan, it's over. I'm saved, I'm right here." You place his hand on your heart and he sighs. Logan hears Charles voice in his head and you can see the annoyance written on his face.

"The team is calling a meeting, we never get a days rest do we?" You shake your head as you stand up. Your energy back as your powers seemed to have rejuvenate you.

"No, we never do. But maybe tonight we can get dinner." You offer and Logan locks his fingers with yours.

Squeezing your hand tight as he opens the door, letting you walk in front of him. He won't let you out of his sight for a long time. Not after all that happened. He makes a silently promise to you. He'll be better. Stronger, faster, smarter. You deserve the world and Logan will carry it on his shoulders just for you.

"Are you asking me on a date?" He teases and you nod shyly, his flirty nature can turn you into a mess in an instant.

For a moment both of you drop the act. The fear comes creeping back into your brain and Logan feels the heavy weight of guilt. His eyes turning sad just for a moment. But as quick as it came it was gone.

"I love you."

"I love you too Logan."

Your healing can only go so far, physical wounds may be gone but the mental ones will be there. But Logan won't let them hurt you anymore. As long as he's there nothing can hurt you anymore.

He swears.

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #logan howlett angst

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damnfeelings09 · 6 months ago

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A.N: special thanks to the lovely @xobunni0 I love how you write my boy and futuristic lovers is a masterpiece. This one is inspired in the song E.T as well as on your work, thank you darling! I suggest you all go to her blog if you haven't already.

Also, you will find OC name here (like in other pov's of mine) but this is still an xreader ff, it's just that I dont quite like putting y/n or _____ :( sorry *Also (this is the last one I promise) english is not my first lenguage so there could be some grammar errors and so, sorry in advance!

E.T - Shadow's version

“You're so hypnotizing Could you be the devil? Could you be an angel?”

190605. You entered the code, and the door made a metallic sound before opening, revealing a second door that required voice access.

“Special Agent Dr. Moon,” you said confidently. The door opened for you. You walked into the GUN facility; floor -16 was cold and dark, the lights flickering on as you made your way to room 296. You scanned your ID and waited a few seconds before turning the handle. There, in front of you, was the hedgehog you loved so much. The ultimate lifeform was lying on the cot, tossing a ball and hitting the ceiling over and over again. His ears twitched, catching the unmistakable sound of your heels.

“Back so soon?” he said, sitting up. “Careful, doc, they’ll think you’ve lost your mind.”

“And do we care?” you smiled, standing just a few inches away from the large polycarbonate cristal like wall that separated you. You quickly raised your hand and rested it against the wall. Shadow didn’t waste any time, using his speed to reach your side in one second, placing his hand against yours.

“Your touch, magnetizing Feels like I am floating Leaves my body glowing”

You didn’t really know when or how it had happened. You had been working in GUN's medical wing for five years, initially as a field medic, until, after two years, you were promoted to Head of Medical Staff. Later, you decided to focus on Mobian medicine—not because you had much to work with, but when the opportunity arose to learn more about this fascinating species, you couldn’t refuse. At first, it was just a few check-ups for Sonic, Tails, and Knuckles, a few tests for speed and strength, samples of their fur and blood, studying their anatomy and physiology. While it wasn’t all that different from humans, it wasn’t exactly the same either. They healed faster, could endure higher levels of pain and temperatures—something that would kill an average human would only cause temporary damage to a Mobian. Furthermore, human diseases didn’t affect them, but that didn’t mean their diseases couldn’t cause a worldwide pandemic.

Eight months ago, Commander Hillsprung had tasked you with analyzing a different specimen. Something that wasn’t entirely Mobian, but also wasn’t human. In fact, no one was sure what it was—the Project Shadow, as everyone called it. At first, the project was falling apart. Despite Shadow volunteering, he didn’t agree with the tests they were putting him through. Five different people had tried to study him—scientists, physicists, even veterinarians—but he wouldn’t let anyone get close enough. He’d remove the equipment, refuse to give samples. They didn’t know what else to do. Just when it seemed like the research would fail, that’s when you appeared.

“They say, be afraid You're not like the others”

Shadow looked at you attentively. You hadn't approached him like the others, nor did you look at him the same way they did. Although he could sense the uncertainty, there was something else… curiosity, perhaps admiration? He wasn't sure, but he knew you were different. The fascination you felt for him was written all over your face, like a big, glowing sign. This allowed Shadow to lower his guard, just a little.

You spoke to him and recognized him for what he was—an equal. Over time, Shadow grew accustomed to your presence. You would arrive early, much earlier than the other agents, and have a brief conversation where you'd tell him about the findings you'd made about him. Shadow always listened with interest to everything you said, enjoying the fruit you had kindly brought him. He could hear the enthusiasm and excitement in your voice, loved the smile that appeared when you made a new discovery, and noticed how you furrowed your brow when the tests didn’t turn out as expected.

"It will work," Shadow would tell you as he followed you across the room from his side of the glass.

"And what if it doesn’t? I’ve failed the last three attempts. The component isn’t stable enough; I can’t reach your DNA. My samples are running out."

"There’s more where that came from," he remarked, shrugging in a nonchalant tone.

"I don’t want to puncture you with the needle again. Your skin heals in less than a minute, the wound has to be large enough to get a good sample, plus... I don’t like hurting you," you said, meeting his gaze.

"You’re the only one here who cares about me. I only trust you to do this. Besides, this will help me know where I come from, what I am, who I am."

When you heard him say that, something inside you broke. Shadow was alone, lost, and trusted you to help him learn everything he could about himself. Instinctively, you took his hand, intertwining your fingers through the small window where they passed his food.

"I promise I will."

“Boy, you're an alien Your touch, so foreign It's supernatural Extraterrestrial”

After that, Shadow had become dependent on you, and you on him. At first, you controlled it well, one or two stolen glances, shared smiles, the brush of your hands when you examined him, staying late to see him again, pretending you had forgotten an instrument in his room just to open the door and sit by his side, shoulder to shoulder, all to be close to him. That worked, until a speed test at the HRW training center (used to me High Range Weapons center) of GUN. A stupid agent launched rockets toward Shadow, boasting that if he truly was the ultimate lifeform, it wouldn’t be anything for him. Six heat-seeking rockets pursued Shadow across the platform as you shouted at the agent while trying to stop the missiles with the computer. "Let it go," said Commander Hillsprung. "But... but sir, Shad... Project Shadow is not ready yet, the tests are still incomplete in the lab, it’s too risky considering the new rings are inhibiting his powers even more." "If I didn’t know you, Agent, I’d think you were concerned about the... alien." You paled at his accusations. No one, especially Commander Hillsprung, could know that you were fraternizing with Shadow. "They wouldn’t understand," you thought. "N-no, sir, not at all. I just think about what’s best for the research," you said, controlling your breathing as calmly as possible. "Then let the test proceed. It’s time for the ultimate weapon to show us what it’s made of."

You couldn’t do anything but watch as Shadow jumped and ran, dodging the missiles. Yes, he was the most powerful being on the planet, heck… he was the most powerful being in the galaxy as far as you knew, but knowing that he couldn’t use all of his powers to save himself made your insides twist with dread. Shadow dodged four of the missiles with the grace and ease of a gazelle. He was fast, strong, precise. Every hit he delivered destroyed the missile without leaving a scratch. When only two missiles remained to be destroyed, Shadow stopped, standing still in the middle of the platform. A small smirk appeared on his face as he thought, "Is this all they’ve got? Pathetic." Both missiles were heading toward him, but just before they hit, Shadow leapt so high, leaving the missiles below him as they exploded into each other. You celebrated Shadow’s victory, while the high-ranking officials watched in stunned silence at what had happened. The agent who had launched the missiles had his jaw clenched so tightly that you’d swear his teeth were going to break. He was upset, no, he was furious. He was tired of that lab rat taking all the attention.

“You're so supersonic Wanna feel your powers Stun me with your laser “

You quickly made your way to the training center entrance, running towards Shadow while cheering him on for the excellent job he had done, your heart racing with excitement, overjoyed with happiness, as you extended your arms toward him. He met halfway, smiling, happy with what you had both achieved together.

“Your kiss is cosmic Every move is magic”

You enjoyed the moment so much, the warmth of your arms, that you didn’t notice when a seventh missile was launched directly at you. With no time to get both of you out of there, and without his Chaos Control to teleport, he decided to save you. It didn’t matter what would happen to him, Shadow only knew you had to be safe. He threw you a few meters away from him, your body hitting the hard ground and your head slamming against the wall. Your vision was blurry, and the ringing in your ears made it impossible to recognize anything around you. Someone grabbed your arm, shaking it, and in the distance, you heard your name, but couldn’t understand anything else. More agents ran to the left of the training room, and a stretcher passed in front of you. The next thing happened like a flash. The stretcher carried something black on it, cables and tubes surrounding a thin, small body, agents in lab coats running behind the stretcher. That’s when you reacted to what had happened. Shadow had been hit by the missile’s explosion directly in an attempt to save your life. As best as you could, you got up and ran after the stretcher, stumbling along the way. Your colleagues tried to stop you, but there was no force in the world that could separate you from Shadow.

“This is transcendental On another level Boy, you're my lucky star”

Regaining your vision, you approached the medical room where they had Shadow. His jet-black fur, once as bright as the night sky, was now covered in dirt and bloodstains. He wore a mask covering his mouth and nose, his breathing was labored, and his heartbeat irregular. “An arrhythmia” you thought. The panic and fear of losing him overtook you, but this was not the time to run off and cry; Shadow needed you. "10mg of adenosine," you requested from the nurse beside you as you searched for the IV in his arm. "Dr. Moon, you should..." she tried to persuade you. "10mg of adenosine, NOW, or we're going to lose him." After administering the medication, you noticed his heart rate normalized to 250 bpm, something normal considering his condition and the fact that we were talking about a supersonic hedgehog. "I want everyone out of the room." "But, boss..." "Didn't you hear what I said? GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!" The entire medical team exited the room. You quickly approached Shadow, took the device you always carried with you, and lowered the power of the inhibitor rings. Shadow needed to recover fast, damn it, you needed him to recover fast, and he wouldn't be able to achieve that if he was at 10% of his power.

“I wanna walk on your wavelength

And be there when you vibrate For you, I'll risk it all, all”

"You'll be fine," you said as you wiped his muzzle, removing the dirt and blood that you found along the way. Your hand rested on Shadow's cheek, it was warm, which was a good sign, right? You positioned yourself on his right side on the stretcher, counting each breath, each heartbeat. Shadow made a sound, a tiny whimper that you wouldn't have been able to hear if you weren't just inches away from his face. You quickly removed the mask from his snout, and he slowly opened his eyes, focusing his sight as if searching for something, until he saw you by his side. "Mo-mo...on?" he said, followed by a small whimper. "I'm here," you said, leaning in and bringing your forehead to his. Shadow sighed, gently stroking your cheek, relieved to see that you were alright. "You saved me," you whispered for both of you, your warm breath meeting Shadow's mouth.

“Kiss me, ki-ki-kiss me Infect me with your lovin' Fill me with your poison Take me, ta-ta-take me Wanna be your victim Ready for abduction”

You both opened your eyes at the same time, the fire making itself present in the crimson orbs of Shadow, without thinking, without planning, you succumbed to what your heart longed for and kissed him. A deep, needed, desired kiss. Your tongues dancing together a dangerous waltz, small bites on your lower lip, courtesy of his sharp canines created the perfect mix between pain and satisfaction. Your hands stroking his quills, careful not to prick you, although at this point it was the least of your worries. The monitor that Shadow was connecting to shooting at 1000 lpm while taking you by the waist sitting you in his lap. Fuck, how much he wanted this, how much he needed this. It had been a while since the looks and smiles were no longer enough for him. Shadow had dreamed of this moment more than he would admit, spending his moments fantasizing about what it would be like to taste those pink lips, what flavor they had, if they were as smooth as he imagined.

They were not, it was even better than what he imagined.

You separated ‘cause the lack of air, with your breathing agitated, choppy, just before you pulled away, Shadow took you by surprise, giving a caress, licking your cheek, causing you to blush instantly, not because you disliked, but because he had seemed so... tender.

Shadow’s heart rate normalized again, settling on the stretcher as a reddish blush painted his muzzle. The dim light, the rise and fall of your chest, the strands of hair falling over your face, your lips red from the make out session that had just occurred.

“A goddess” thought the hedgehog. You reached out for his hand, fingers entwined, no one said a thing, it wasn’t necessary. What you felt for each other was more than enough.

“Boy, you're an alien Your touch, so foreign It's supernatural Extraterrestrial”

#shadow the hedgehog x reader #shadow x reader #shadow fanfic #shadow the hedeghog #shadow the hedgehog #sth au #mobian x human #sonic fanfiction #sth #shadow

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coppy-catt · 3 months ago

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like it part iii.

megumi fushiguro x reader, college au

series masterlist

your dorm was quiet, save for the low hum of R&B drifting from your laptop speakers—soft, slow, the kind of music that filled the silence without crowding it. the only light came from the gentle glow of your desk lamp and the faint, silvery spill of streetlight seeping through the blinds. the air carried a hint of vanilla, subtle and sweet, mixed with something warmer—something unmistakably you.

megumi sat cross-legged on your bed, textbook balanced on his thigh, trying to focus on the words in front of him. you were beside him, lying on your stomach, feet swaying lazily behind you as you flipped through your notes.

on the surface, it looked like you were studying. technically, you were. there were highlighters. post-its. a psych quiz in the near future.

but the real test?

keeping his eyes on the page and not on the way your shirt slipped off your shoulder when you shifted. or the way you chewed on your pen cap when you were concentrating. or the occasional brush of your hand against his that sent lightning up his spine.

he’d been in your room for maybe fifteen minutes, and already his nerves were coiling tighter by the second. not because you were doing anything wrong—you were relaxed, casual, completely at ease. like this was just another night. like this was normal.

but nothing about this felt normal to him.

your presence was a constant pull—your soft laughter when you mispronounced a vocab term, the way your leg brushed his now and then, deliberate or not. and the scent of you, clinging to the sheets and the air, was making it hard to breathe.

��so, this part of the chapter is about electromagnetic induction,” megumi said, tapping the page with his pen like it could ground him. like it could calm his racing heart. “super easy.”

shifting into a sitting position beside him, your lips tugged into a smirk. “says the walking textbook.”

he gave a small shrug. “it’s not that hard once you break it down. faraday’s law—basically, a change in magnetic field causes a current.”

he pointed to the vocab word in the textbook lying open in front of you, trying to keep his voice steady. but when he glanced over to see if you were following along, his breath hitched.

you weren’t looking at the book. you were looking at him.

your lips slightly parted, eyes fixed on his face with a softness that made his chest tighten. it wasn’t just curiosity—it was focus, interest, intention.

megumi immediately looked away, the tips of his ears turning red.

you looked too damn enticing.

the way your eyes lingered on him like he was the most interesting thing in the room, it was enough to short-circuit his brain. he could talk all day about physics, about laws and fields and forces, but right now, the only current he could feel was the one sparking between the two of you.

and it was getting harder and harder to ignore.

he tried to focus—really, he did. cleared his throat, forced his eyes back to the page, even muttered something under his breath about “lenz’s law”—but the words blurred.

“megumi,” you said, voice soft, almost coaxing.

he glanced at you again, hesitantly this time—and you were still watching him. like you knew. like you’d caught on to every subtle flick of his gaze, every stiff inhale, every time his voice wavered.

“yeah?” he asked, trying—and failing—to sound casual.

you tilted your head, eyes flicking from his lips back to his eyes. “you’re kinda bad at pretending you’re okay.”

he let out a breath of a laugh, low and tight. “am I that obvious?”

you smiled, scooting just a little closer. “a little.”

silence settled between you for a moment—thick and charged. his fingers twitched beside yours, aching to close the distance. and when your leg pressed more firmly against his, megumi finally looked up to look at you.

really look at you.

“look, I don’t know what this is,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “but I don’t want to mess it up.”

your gaze fell to his lips.

“you won’t,” you mumbled as you leaned in and connected your lips to his.

and it was like everything in the room faded—the hum of the music, the open textbook, the faint city sounds drifting in through the window. all of it blurred at the edges, swallowed by the feeling of you. the warmth of your mouth, the way your fingers curled gently around his wrist, grounding him.

he kissed you back slowly, almost reverently, like he was still trying to convince himself this was real. that you wanted this. that you wanted him.

and you did.

he could feel it in the way your body leaned into his, in the way you deepened the kiss, like you couldn’t help it. like you’d been waiting, too.

you gently pushed the textbook off the bed, letting it thud softly onto the floor, then shifted forward—slow and deliberate—as you crawled into his lap, straddling him.

megumi’s hands instinctively found your hips, his grip tightening as you settled onto him. his breath hitched—sharp and audible—like your weight alone was enough to unravel him.

your own hands slid up his chest, fingers bunching slightly in the fabric of his hoodie as you pulled him closer.

and he kissed you back like he’d been starving for it, like he finally let go of whatever was holding him back. his hands roamed up your sides, feeling the warmth of you through your clothes, anchoring himself in the rhythm of your body moving against his.

when your hips shifted just slightly, a quiet groan rumbled from his throat, his forehead dropping to yours as he tried to catch his breath.

“you’re gonna kill me,” he murmured, voice low, strained, completely wrecked.

you smiled against his lips. “that’s not the plan.”

but the way you rolled your hips again, slow and purposeful?

it sure felt like one.

your name left his lips in a whine, soft and desperate—his voice cracking under the weight of it.

his hands gripped your hips tighter, fingers digging in as if he could anchor you in place, stop you from driving him any closer to the edge. but even as he tried to still your movements, his body betrayed him—hips twitching upward, chasing the friction you were giving him.

“please,” he breathed, forehead pressed to yours, eyes shut tight. “if you keep doing that —”

he didn’t finish the sentence. couldn’t let you find out how pathetically close he was to busting in his pants. just from dry humping you.

then, as if the universe had decided to show him mercy, you slid off his lap.

he exhaled sharply, body still trembling, grateful for the space—for the moment to collect himself.

but that relief was short-lived.

because you didn’t move away.

you kept sliding—down, between his legs. your hands running lightly along his thighs as you settled on your knees in front of him. and the moment your eyes lifted to meet his, wide and purposeful and so damn sure, his jaw fell open.

“wait—what are you…?” his voice came out strangled, barely a whisper.

but he already knew what you were doing.

and the realization alone nearly undid him all over again.

your fingers toyed with the hem of his hoodie, dragging it up just enough to expose the band of his sweats. megumi’s breath hitched, his entire body going still—like if he moved, he might shatter.

he stared down at you, wide-eyed, lips parted, completely speechless as your hands slipped beneath the fabric. the heat of your touch against his skin made his stomach tense, made his thighs twitch under your grip.

“y-you sure?” he breathed, though the words barely held weight—his voice weak, shaking, like he already knew he wouldn’t stop you if you kept going.

you looked up at him, a gentle smile tugging at your lips, and gave a quiet nod. then, leaning in, you kissed him once more—slow and lingering—before trailing lower, your mouth brushing against the sharp line of his hip.

megumi’s head fell back with a low groan, one hand flying up to grip the edge of your comforter, the other carding through your hair.

he was screwed. completely, totally, hopelessly screwed.

and god, he never wanted anything more.

your kisses trailed lower, slow and deliberate, like you were savoring every inch of him—every twitch of muscle, every shaky breath. megumi’s hands fisted the comforter tighter, knuckles white, his chest rising and falling in quick, uneven rhythm.

when your fingers dipped beneath the waistband of his sweats, his hips jolted slightly—his breath caught in his throat.

“shit,” he whispered, voice raw, eyes squeezing shut.

you only smiled, dragging the fabric down just enough to free him—his breath catching in a strangled gasp as cool air hit overly sensitive skin.

he looked down at you again, eyes dark and full of disbelief, desire, and something softer—like awe. like he couldn’t believe you were real.

and then your mouth was on him.

the first touch of your lips made his whole body tense, a guttural moan ripping from deep in his chest. his hand flew to your shoulder, gripping it like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.

“f-fuck, please—” he stammered, the sound of your name barely making it out of his mouth.

it was too much. too good. too you.

and he knew, without a doubt, he wasn’t going to last.

the way your lips wrapped around him slowly, deliberately, like you had all the time in the world—made megumi feel like his sanity might start to slip.

his thighs tensed beneath you, breath staggering as he tried to hold on to something, anything. but your mouth was warm and wet and perfect, and every flick of your tongue, every slow pull, dragged a sound from him he didn’t even know he could make.

he looked down at you through hooded eyes, completely undone by the sight—your lashes lowered, cheeks hollowing just slightly, your hands steady on his hips as you took him deeper. you looked so focused, so intent on him, like you wanted to memorize every reaction, every shiver, every curse that tumbled from his lips.

“god,” he breathed, voice wrecked. “you—fuck, you feel so good.”

he tried to hold back. tried not to fall apart too fast, but the pressure was unbearable, his muscles straining as pleasure twisted tight in his core.

your name left his lips again, barely more than a whisper.

“I’m not gonna last,” he warned, voice breaking.

but even as he said it, his hips bucked once, shallow and shaky, and his other hand slid from the bed to your hair, not to guide—just to feel. to anchor himself in the reality of you.

because if this was a dream, he never wanted to wake up.

but with both hands in your hair now, you took that as a sign he wanted control. so you gave it to him. peering up into his eyes, you let your hands fall behind your back.

he didn’t know how to react at first, but his body took over. his hips rolled forward in slow, tentative thrusts, careful, almost shy. not wanting to hurt you.

then you let out a muffled moan—and he broke.

a curse slipped past his lips as his grip in your hair tightened. his pace shifted, thrusts deeper, more desperate, using your mouth to chase his own pleasure.

megumi was unraveling.

his head tipped back, eyes squeezing shut as he tried to hold on for just another second, another breath—but you made it impossible. every swirl of your tongue, every soft sound you made around him, pushed him further, faster, to the edge.

“shit, I’m gonna—” he gasped, body tensing beneath your touch, but it was too late.

his hips stuttered, a broken moan catching in his throat as he came, full and hard, his entire body locking up beneath you.

the pleasure hit him like a wave—sharp, dizzying, too much and not enough all at once. his chest heaved, heart racing as his hand slid from your hair to his side, suddenly too weak to hold onto anything at all.

you slowed, gentle now, letting him ride it out until his body relaxed completely, slumping back against the side of the bed like every bone in him had melted.

he looked down at you, eyes hazy but full of adoration. for you.

“…c’mere,” he murmured, voice rough, still breathless.

he caught your wrist gently and tugged you toward him, guiding you both from the floor onto the bed and pulling you into his lap. his arms wrapped around your waist as you settled over him.

that look came over him again—that soft, stunned expression like he couldn’t quite believe this was real. like he didn’t know what he did to deserve this moment, to deserve you.

“what did I say about staring?” you huffed.

a sheepish grin tugged at his lips, but his eyes never left yours. “can’t help it,” he murmured, voice low and honest. “you’re breathtaking.”

your breath hitched, the sincerity in his gaze making your heart stutter. so instead of answering, you leaned forward and kissed him—slow and sweet. his hands gripped your waist a little tighter, anchoring himself to you like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

when you pulled back just enough to speak, your noses still brushed. “you’re such a sap.”

“only for you.”

and when he kissed you again, it was deeper. warmer. like a promise—one he didn’t know how to say yet, but was desperate to show.

his hands slid from your waist to your ass, gripping tight as he began to move you against him—slow, deliberate, chasing friction that quickly turned into frustration.

because nothing was happening.

he stilled, breath catching in his throat. shit.

too sensitive. too spent. his body was still reeling from earlier, and no matter how much he wanted you—and he wanted you, badly—his dick wasn’t cooperating.

panic flickered behind his eyes, but he masked it quickly, shifting gears before the moment could break. because even if he couldn’t fuck you properly, he was still going to give you everything.

“lay down,” he murmured against your lips, voice low, commanding.

your breath hitched, a bright flush blooming across your cheeks. “I — look, I…”

you stumbled over the words, lips parted, eyes now avoiding his.

the sudden shift in your energy caught him off guard, and he stilled immediately. his hands loosened their grip as he searched your face, but the way your eyes darted away from his made it hard to read you.

so gently, he raised a hand to your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek as he tilted your face toward his—giving you no choice but to meet his gaze.

“what’s wrong?” he asked, voice soft but steady, concern laced through every word.

you hesitated, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. “I don’t know,” you said quietly. “I just—I—you make me feel really good, megumi. and I guess… I can’t help but feel like I don’t make you feel the same. kind of feel like I’m not good enough, not gonna lie.”

he stared at you, stunned—jaw slack, breath caught in his throat.

what?

the words hit him like a punch to the chest, knocking the wind right out of him. you—you—thought you weren’t good enough?

before he could protest, you continued.

“I just — I was so drunk last time and I feel like I made such an idiot of myself - “

“are you serious?” he finally breathed, eyes wide with disbelief. “you have no idea what you do to me.” he shook his head, still reeling. “you’re everything.”

a blush bloomed across your cheeks as you dropped your gaze, quickly hiding your face in your hands.

megumi didn’t let you stay hidden for long though.

he reached for you, gently wrapping his fingers around your wrists and peeling your hands away from your eyes. his touch was soft, patient, like he was handling something fragile.

“last time was perfect,” he murmured, voice low and full of conviction. “you were perfect.”

your eyes met his again, wide and unsure, but the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing in the world that mattered—made something inside you unravel.

your lips connected to his. there was no urgency, no expectation. just warmth, steady and consuming, the kind that wrapped around your ribs and settled deep in your chest.

when he pulled back, just enough to look at you, his thumbs brushed along your cheeks. “tell me what you need,” he whispered.

your breath hitched, and your hands found their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “I need you.”

a wave of emotion passed over him—sharp and sudden, like it caught him off guard.

it wasn’t lust, not entirely. it was deeper. he felt it in his chest, in the tightness in his throat, in the way his grip on you softened like he was holding something precious. because he was.

you needed him.

not just his touch. Him.

he guided you back gently, laying you down against the pillows, his body following yours, settling beside you rather than over you—no pressure, no weight, just presence. his hand traced soft lines along your stomach while his mouth explored yours. learning you all over again.

you exhaled, a sound that was part relief, part want.

he dipped his head to your neck, pressing slow kisses there, savoring every reaction he pulled from you. every sigh, every quiet inhale, every push, every pull.

megumi’s lips ghosted over yours again, slower this time—less about hunger, more about connection. his hands moved with the same careful intent, gliding over your sides, your waist, learning every curve like he was mapping sacred ground.

your body reacted to him like it had been waiting—arching into every touch, chasing his warmth, clinging to the steadiness of him. and he gave it all freely. not just his body, but every unspoken word, every ounce of tenderness he’d never known how to express until now.

he kissed your shoulder, then your collarbone, dragging his mouth lower with reverence. when his fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your sweats, he paused, eyes flicking up to yours, silently asking.

you nodded, breath trembling.

then his hand slid between your thighs—slow, deliberate—like he was savoring the moment as much as you were. his fingers moved over the thin fabric of your underwear, gentle at first, just enough to tease, to coax a soft sound from your lips.

megumi watched you closely, eyes fixed on your face, soaking in every shift of your expression. the way your brows pinched. the way your lips parted. the way your hips arched ever so slightly into his hand.

“shit, baby, you’re so wet,” he murmured, awe laced into every word. “just for me?”

you nodded, unable to find your voice through the heat blooming in your chest, your stomach, your core.

his fingers slid beneath the fabric, brushing against your warmth—bare and slick and ready. you gasped, and his name spilled from your mouth like instinct.

he groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your skin as he kissed your chest, your sternum, the space between your ribs—every inch.

and then he started moving his fingers.

curling them upward into you.

your body reacted before you could even think—hips rolling into his touch, breath coming faster, hands fisting in the sheets.

“so pretty,” he whispered, mouth grazing your skin.

and with the way he touched you—how patient, how sure, how devoted he felt—you knew you weren’t going to last long.

each stroke of his fingers was measured, purposeful—like he was learning you second by second, and loving every moment of it.

your head fell back, a soft moan slipping from your lips as his thumb found your clit, circling slow and steady. he watched you like he was mesmerized, every twitch of your body, every rise and fall of your chest.

“that’s it,” he murmured, kissing the edge of your jaw.

the pressure built with every breath, every whispered word, every flick of his fingers. your thighs began to tremble, your hips losing rhythm as the pleasure overwhelmed you.

“megumi—” you gasped, voice breaking.

“i got you, baby,” he replied, firm and quiet.

and you came—hard, breath catching in your throat, back arching as everything else faded away. all that remained was him—his name on your lips, his hands on your skin, his eyes staring at you in awe.

you clung to him through it, fingers digging into his shoulder as wave after wave crashed through you—hot and overwhelming and impossibly good. your breath came in shaky gasps, your whole body trembling beneath his touch.

megumi held you through it all, never letting go. his hand slowed, gentled his movements as you started to come down, his mouth brushing soft kisses along your cheek, your jaw, your temple.

but just as your heartbeat started to steady, he moved again—his fingers plunging back inside you, slow and purposeful. your breath hitched violently, stolen right from your lungs as your body seized all over again.

your hips jolted, a sharp gasp escaping you as your body, still sensitive and undone, tried to process the onslaught of sensation.

“megumi—” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper, laced with both need and disbelief.

he didn’t stop. his eyes never left yours, dark and focused, like he was memorizing every flicker of pleasure that crossed your face. “one more,” he murmured, voice low and rough at the edges.

the way he touched you now—slower, deeper—had your legs shaking. you could barely think, couldn’t do anything but feel. the pressure was building all over again, even stronger this time, stoked by the way his thumb pressed against your clit in lazy, perfect circles.

your head fell back against the pillows, a broken moan slipping from your lips.

“so pretty, baby,” megumi breathed, the words slipping out before he could stop them—raw, reverent. and the way your body responded, clenching tight around his fingers, grinding down against his palm—it drove him wild.

“you need more?” he murmured, voice thick with need.

you nodded, fast, desperate—your eyes glassy, lips parted, completely undone beneath him.

“what do you need?” he asked, quieter this time. his fingers maintaining their pace.

your hand rose to his face, trembling fingers brushing along his jaw before trailing to his lips. you didn’t speak—but you didn’t need to. the look in your eyes, the soft stroke of your fingers, told him everything.

a slow smirk curled on his mouth. he knew exactly what you were asking for.

and he didn’t make you wait.

he pulled his fingers from you with a deliberate slowness, the wet sound making your breath hitch. then he was shifting downward, settling between your thighs like he belonged there. his hands gripped your hips, steadying you as he kissed the inside of your thigh—then the other. each press of his lips was maddeningly slow, worshipful.

when his mouth finally found you, your whole body jolted.

a cry tore from your throat as his tongue slid through your folds, soft at first, then firmer, more focused. he groaned against you, like the taste alone was enough to ruin him. his hands pinned your thighs apart, keeping you open for him as he lost himself in you—devouring you with slow, devastating precision.

“megumi,” you gasped, hands flying to his hair, anchoring yourself to him.

he didn’t answer—not with words. just with the roll of his tongue, the way he sucked and licked until your legs were shaking again, until your cries turned into pleas, until you were right on the edge. until your grip in his hair tightened, fingers trembling as another wave built deep in your core—hotter, higher, impossibly intense.

and he still didn’t let up, tongue moving in steady, precise circles, as if he wanted to unravel every last piece of you.

“please,” you whimpered, the word barely audible between your gasps. it wasn’t even clear what you were begging for—release, relief, more of him. all of him.

megumi groaned against you, the vibration shooting straight through your body. one hand slid up, splaying across your stomach, grounding you as your hips bucked beneath his touch.

“you gonna come, pretty girl?” he murmured between kisses, his voice low and hoarse.

you nodded frantically, unable to speak, every part of you strung tight.

and then he pushed two fingers back inside you—deep and slow—curling them just right while his tongue focused on your clit, relentless and perfect. your back arched off the bed, a cry ripping from your throat.

that was it.

you broke with a sob, coming hard against his mouth, your whole body trembling as the pleasure crashed through you—white-hot and endless. megumi held you through every second, never backing down, mouth and fingers working you through it, coaxing every last tremor from your body.

by the time he finally pulled back, your chest was heaving, your limbs weak and boneless, your skin covered in a sheen of sweat.

he crawled back up your body, eyes on your face now, pupils blown and mouth glistening with you.

“you with me?” he asked softly, fingers brushing your damp hair back from your face.

you gave the faintest nod, still breathless, lips parted as you struggled to steady your heartbeat. your body felt weightless, like you’d drifted somewhere far away and were only just beginning to return.

megumi didn’t expect it when, with a burst of fading strength, you tugged him down into the pillows with you. he followed easily, letting himself be pulled into your warmth, settling beside you as if this was where he belonged.

you draped a leg over his waist, your bare skin brushing his, and his hands instinctively found your body again—one arm wrapping around your waist, the other splaying over the curve of your lower back, pulling you flush against him.

the low hum of the music wrapped around you both like a second blanket, soft and slow, matching the rhythm of your breathing as it calmed. megumi’s fingers traced idle circles on your lower back, his touch gentle now—so different from before, like he was memorizing the shape of you in silence.

your hands threaded through his hair, playing absentmindedly with the strands, tugging just enough to make him hum in response. his eyes were half-lidded, drowsy but locked on you, drinking you in like he still couldn’t quite believe you were real. that this moment was real.

“nice playlist,” he murmured, his voice raspy, content.

you smiled lazily. “made it for you.”

that turned his cheeks pink. “careful,” he whispered, brushing his nose against yours. “you keep doing things like that and I’ll start thinking I matter to you.”

your breath hitched—not because of what he said, but because of the way he said it. light, teasing. but there was a weight behind it, a question tucked between the syllables.

you pulled back just enough to look at him, your thumb stroking across his cheekbone.

“you do,” you said, simply.

he stilled beneath you.

his jaw flexed, like he was trying to hold something back—an emotion too heavy to name. his hand at your back tightened, just slightly, anchoring himself to you like he needed the contact to believe you.

“yea?” he murmured.

“mhm,” was your simple reply. simple, but held weight.

simple, but it was everything. it sank into him, filled all the hollow spaces he’d tried so hard to ignore. made him feel like he could finally exhale.

“never thought i’d get to have this,” he admitted, eyes dropping to your lips. “you.”

your heart thudded against your ribs, aching at the vulnerability in his voice. you leaned in, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “well you do. you have me.”

he kissed you then—slow and deep, full of everything he hadn’t said out loud.

when he finally pulled away, it wasn’t by much. he just held you there, breathing you in like he could tether himself to you that way.

then he shifted slightly, tucking you closer against his chest. his arms wrapped around you tighter, strong and sure, his hand sliding up and down your back in slow, soothing strokes. you could feel his heart beating beneath your ear, steady and reassuring, lulling you deeper into the warmth of him.

and he stayed like that, rubbing gentle circles against your spine, even as your breathing grew heavier, slower.

even as your body melted completely into his.

even as sleep finally pulled you under—safe, protected, and loved, right there in his arms.

“dude. you’re glowing.”

megumi didn’t look up from his coffee.

yuji leaned across the table, eyes narrowed, arms braced like he was preparing for interrogation.

nobara sat beside him, picking at her croissant with barely contained glee. “he came in wearing the same clothes from yesterday. and he’s in a good mood. that never happens. like—ever.”

“I’m always in a good mood,” megumi said flatly, sipping from his mug.

“you’re usually in a tolerable mood,” nobara corrected. “but today? you smiled at the barista. smiled, megumi.”

the raven haired boy rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t quite suppress the upward twitch of his lips. “you two are being way too extra about this.”

yuji let out a loud, exaggerated gasp. “so something did happen!”

megumi sighed and leaned back in his chair, letting the coffee cup rest between his hands. his gaze flicked toward the window—calm, unreadable. “nothing you need to know about.”

nobara raised a brow. “that’s not a no.”

“it’s also not a yes.”

yuji thumped his fist lightly on the table. “c’mon, bro, just spill. you finally get with her and now you don’t have anything to say?”

megumi gave him a look that could have frozen lava.

“okay, backing off.” yuji raised both hands in surrender but couldn’t hide his grin.

nobora leaned forward, resting her chin in her palm. “you know we’re just happy for you, right?”

megumi’s expression softened—barely. “I know.”

“then why not tell us?” yuji butted in.

megumi’s gaze dropped to the table.

because it’s mine. and i’m not ready to share it yet.

as if nobara read what he was thinking, she told yuji to back off.

and he listened. didn’t push after that.

eventually, the pink haired boy launched into a story about a broken vending machine near the auditorium that stole his last $5, and nobara explained how she was going to murder her econ professor. but megumi sat quietly, the edge of a smile still lingering on his face.

a certain memory from last night flickered in his mind—your hands in his hair, your breath against his skin, the way you’d whispered that he had you.

yea. he wasn’t ready to share that yet.

#jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jjk megumi #megumi fluff #megumi x reader #megumi smut #jjk smut

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hsmagnet · 4 months ago

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Permanent Magnet Rotor Inspection Solutions

Permanent Magnet Rotor Inspection Solutions As a technology leader in permanent magnet inspection, HSMAG provides a complete solution to measure, visualize and analyze magnetic field distributions of different types of permanent magnet rotors. A Complete Solution for Permanent Magnet Rotor Inspection HSMAG ‘s hardware and software work harmoniously to derive important characteristics of permanent…

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makeyuomine · 2 months ago

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studio styles // part 1

Summary: (Y/N), a newly hired Architectural Assistant at the renowned architecture firm Studio Styles, grapples with imposter syndrome as she navigates the pressures of her first major role in the field. Balancing ambition with uncertainty, she finds herself drawn to her supervisor—Harry, the firm's brilliant yet enigmatic Principal Architect. As professional boundaries blur under late-night deadlines and quiet moments, (Y/N) must confront the question of what she's really building: a career, a future… or something much more complicated.

architect!harry.

Author’s Note: Thank you all for taking the time to read my work! Pleaseeeee let me know your thoughts! Ideas for more are encouraged :)

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

The office smelled faintly of concrete dust and expensive coffee—an oddly comforting blend for (Y/N), who still couldn't believe she worked here.

Only one month in, and the sensation of imposter syndrome clung to her like glue. But each time she caught her reflection in the sleek glass doors of the downtown firm, dressed in black slacks and a structured blazer, she reminded herself: You earned this.

Freshly 25, (Y/N) was the firm’s newest Architectural Assistant, freshly graduated with a Master's and still blinking in the unfamiliar rhythm of a life no longer defined by GPA calculators or studio reviews. Her mind often wandered to one question: Who am I now that I’m not a student?

Work, it seemed, was determined to fill that identity vacuum. She welcomed it. Chased it. Whether it was a zoning analysis for a low-rise mixed-use project or drafting elevation concepts for a civic plaza in the City, she raised her hand for everything. Her ambition didn’t just burn—it blazed.

But no amount of ambition had prepared her for Harry Styles.

The moment she had stepped into the interview room a month ago, she had felt it. The unmistakable shift in the air. The strong current between them.

Harry—Principal Architect, her direct supervisor, and the owner of the very firm she now worked at, Studio Styles—was, in a word, unfair. Thirty-seven, tall, and effortlessly magnetic, he carried the kind of refined charisma that seemed to say: Yes, I know I look good in this tailored navy suit, but I promise I won’t make it your problem.

The man who interviewed her, hired her, and now walked past her desk with rolled-up sleeves and the kind of quiet intensity that made architectural specs seem like poetry. Honestly, how was anyone supposed to stay focused?

Everyone in the office respected him, admired him—even joked about him being the "greenest of flags." But (Y/N) saw something else too: a softness in his voice when he explained design theory, the weight he carried in his brow when he thought no one was looking, the restraint in his gaze when their eyes met.

She wondered if he felt it too. That pull.

Harry had kept things strictly professional, of course. She could tell he worked hard to focus only on the technical, the mentorship. But sometimes—when they hovered side by side over CAD drawings or walked together during site visits—she could swear his fingers brushed hers just a moment too long.

Still, she had goals. Real ones. The promotion to Architect I was not guaranteed. It was the next step, the first real test in proving she could belong in this rarefied world. It would be a long year of learning, proving, and adapting.

Romance? That was the plot of her old daydreams, back in undergrad when her biggest worry was a group project going sideways.

Now? Now she had deadlines. Career reviews. A whole identity to build from scratch.

And yet, as she watched Harry gesture thoughtfully at a floorplan from across the room, smiling that small, half-lidded smile that always made her stomach twist—(Y/N) couldn’t help but think:

If I’m building a life from the ground up… is it so wrong that he might be a part of it? Or is this what happens when you spend years chasing degrees and suddenly find yourself in the real world—down bad for your boss like some HR training video gone rogue?

♡ ♡

The hum of the office had quieted, reduced to the occasional tap of a keyboard and the distant whirl of the plotter spitting out floorplans. Most of the team had already cleared out for the evening, but (Y/N) was still at her desk, editing renderings with the intensity of someone who feared the smallest oversight could unravel everything.

She didn’t hear him approach—just the soft sound of leather soles stopping beside her.

"Got a minute?" Harry asked gently, holding a thick project folder in one hand.

She glanced up, blinking. "Yeah, of course."

He gestured toward the small glass-walled conference room at the corner of the floor. Her heart gave the faintest stutter.

What did he want to discuss? Had someone filed a complaint? Was she being fired?

Inside the conference room, he set the folder on the table between them. His sleeves were rolled to the elbows, forearms flexing as he opened the file.

She did her best to hide the nerves tightening her chest, but it was written all over her face.

"Well, don't look so worried," Harry smiled at her reassuringly.

She let out a soft laugh. "I'm sorry, I tend to overthink."

"Don't worry. I actually wanted to discuss a new project with you," he looked at her.

(Y/N)'s brows lifted, curiosity sparking in her expression. A new project? That hadn’t come up in the staff meeting earlier.

"This is the new Rivera Cultural Center downtown," he said, eyes scanning the drawings. "It’s a multi-phase project, community-driven, green-certified. City's backing it heavily, and it's going to be high-profile."

She nodded slowly, her eyes following the path of his finger as it traced the plans. She couldn’t help but notice his hands—steady, capable, and undeniably masculine.

"I want you to take the lead on schematic design," Harry said, looking up at her. "Concept, massing, program alignment, early elevations. You’ll collaborate with me directly."

The words snapped her out of every lingering daydream. (Y/N)'s heart thudded loudly enough; she was sure he could hear it. "Wait—me?"

He smiled faintly. "Yes. You."

She opened her mouth. Closed it again. She wanted to say yes. God, she always wanted to take on a big project. But this one felt… massive.

"I’ve never led something like this before," she said quietly, brows furrowing. "I—I don’t want to mess it up. Or let you down."

"You won’t," he said. "Because I’ll be there. Every step of the way. And I wouldn’t hand you this unless I was sure you were ready for it."

There it was. No patronizing. No sugarcoating. Just belief. Pure and steady.

She lifted her eyes to meet his. And something passed between them then—something unspoken, heavy with possibility. Like the silence before the first line is drawn.

She wondered if he felt it too, that current, that magnetic shift. From the way his gaze held hers, unwavering and sincere, she knew the answer.

But neither of them said it. Not yet.

Instead, she nodded once.

"Okay," she whispered. "I'll do it."

He smiled. And this time, it reached all the way to his eyes.

♡ ♡

The office was quieter than usual this evening, the glow of the city skyline filtering in through the windows as the last of the staff trickled out. (Y/N) had stayed behind, focused on the schematics for the Rivera Cultural Center. She'd already gone over the designs three times, but she couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing.

She was staring at the plans when Harry approached her desk, a soft thud of his shoes on the polished wood floor. She glanced up, startled but grateful for the distraction.

"Everything going okay?" Harry asked, his voice warm but low.

She smiled, pushing the frustration aside. "Yeah. Just trying to figure out the massing for the main lobby. I feel like I’m overthinking it."

"You are," he teased lightly, sitting down in the chair across from her. But his eyes softened as he continued, "But that’s good. Means you're invested."

She shifted in her seat, pulling up a few of the elevation designs. "I just don’t want to miss anything. I want it to be perfect."

"You’re on the right track," Harry said, leaning forward slightly, his gaze locked on the plans. He was close enough now that she could see the faint creases in his shirt, the way the lines of his suit jacket stretched over his shoulders. His presence was comforting, grounding her. "We’re getting there. I can help you with this—walk you through the next step."

She hesitated, glancing up at him, meeting his eyes. He seemed genuinely invested in her progress. There was no condescension, no rush. Just the quiet assurance that she was more than capable.

"You’ve been really supportive," she admitted, almost shyly. "I didn’t expect it to be like this. I thought you'd… I don’t know, be more hands-off."

"Do you want me to be hands-off?" he quickly asked.

She looked up, their eyes immediately connecting.

There was a slight pause. "N-No," she stuttered.

A faint smile tugged at his lips as his gaze lingered on her face. They both turned their attention back to the plans, but there was something different in the air now, something thicker between them that made the space feel smaller, more intimate.

Harry stood, moving to the whiteboard beside her desk to sketch a few notes. She could feel the subtle shift in energy as he reached over her, their shoulders brushing for just a second. It wasn't intentional, but the warmth of his body, the nearness, sent a jolt through her.

When he stepped back, their eyes met again. She was sure he felt it too—the quiet tension hanging in the air, the pull that neither of them acknowledged aloud.

"It's getting late… you should probably head out," (Y/N) said, glancing toward the window where the sky had already begun to fade into evening hues.

"Yeah, I'll get going soon. Just want to make sure you're alright," he said.

The sincerity in his voice truly touched (Y/N).

"I don't know what I'd do without you on this," she admitted.

He stepped closer, gaze on her.

Harry’s expression darkened. His hand came up, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered.

"You won't ever have to find out," he murmured.

That did it.

Her breath hitched just before he leaned in, and then his mouth was on hers—firm, searching, not hesitant at all. She responded instantly, her hand sliding into his shirt collar, pulling him closer. The kiss deepened, the weight of everything they hadn't said crashing into that one desperate moment.

His hand found her waist, and with a quiet groan he walked her back until she bumped into the edge of the desk. The plans crinkled beneath her as he lifted her—strong hands guiding her to lie back over the very designs they’d been pouring over just minutes earlier.

The moment was charged, a collision of ambition, desire, and months of restraint finally breaking loose.

He hovered over her, breathing hard. "Tell me to stop."

She didn't.

Instead, she reached up and kissed him again.

The kiss was breathless and all-consuming. Harry's hands framed her hips, her fingers curled into his shirt. Every thought, every rule, every hesitation had vanished the second their lips met. The sound of paper rustling beneath them—plans and sketches now forgotten—only fueled the urgency.

And then—ding!

The elevator doors slid open with a mechanical chime, slicing through the moment like a blade.

They froze.

A beat later, the telltale squeak of rubber wheels echoed down the hall, followed by the soft clatter of cleaning supplies and the faint shuffle of footsteps. The janitor had arrived for the night shift.

Harry pulled back, breathing heavily. (Y/N) sat up fast, heart hammering, cheeks flushed as she frantically smoothed down her blouse and skirt. He ran a hand through his hair, adjusting the collar of his shirt, then leaned casually against the edge of the desk like they'd been talking about floor plans—not making out on top of them.

A faint tune drifted into the studio—some upbeat song the janitor was whistling along to, completely oblivious, earbuds tucked firmly into his ears. He didn't even glance their way as he pushed the trash bin through the hallway, humming to himself and wheeling toward the break room.

(Y/N) let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

"That was close," she whispered, glancing sideways at Harry.

He looked at her, and despite the attempt at nonchalance, there was a spark in his eyes—mischief, disbelief, desire. His lips curved into a crooked smile, a silent what just happened? passing between them.

She couldn't help the grin that tugged at her own mouth, biting the inside of her cheek to suppress it. Their gazes lingered, playful and loaded.

Neither of them said a word, but the silence said everything.

This wasn’t over.

Not by a long shot.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Author's Note: Thank you all for taking the time to read my work! How are we liking architect!harry?

#harry edward styles #harry x y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #harry styles au #harry styles slow burn #slow burn

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