#and second...perhaps you all could answer a question I have in mind!

[barleyo]

Flicker.

Scandalabra X F! Reader (smut)

A/N: my Scandy finally gets to be a bit more dominant. while i love him as a sub, he's a switch at heart, i know. fem? yes. but sub? not always!

Tags: p in v, quickies, insecurity, unintentional emasculation, cucking mentions, mdom/fsub

Wordcount: 1.2k

Another night, another rendezvous with another person. Scandalabra was beyond excited. This was another chance to hear the long and short of your "date." Who would you be seeing tonight? What would you talk about? What would you do together? 

He loved it. He loved every part of it. 

He loved primping you up and getting you ready to be ravished by another. He loved watching you choose your outfit of the night and the undergarments under to match. He loved steadying you on your weak legs as you walked back to your bedroom to regale him of the nitty details. He loved the scent of another person on you when he, himself, finally got his turn. He loved being next in line. Getting someone's seconds of the woman who belonged to him. But, in times like this, he ached to be first. 

Too much excitement in your eye. Bouncing on the heels of your feet.

"Who is it that is lined up tonight then, darling?" he asked, sharp eyes dragging over you. 

Everything about your frame screamed "fuck me." Rarely was he jealous that others got to experience that before him, but today seemed different. He felt off, and oddly down on himself for such a confident bloke. Perhaps his curls weren't sitting right, or his makeup was slathered on and far too cakey. Perhaps it was the chill in the air when you answered his question. 

"We've got someone new for tonight," you said, adjusting your hair in the mirror. 

For some reason, reasons beyond you, you felt the need to look especially soft tonight. Gentle and feminine. It wasn't quite often that you got to be that way, which you didn't entirely mind. Scandalabra called for you to be dominant and ruling, same with many of your lovers. It was fun, truly, but tonight you got to be the submissive one. The delicate side of you ached to be free, and tonight, you could do just that. 

"New? Do tell."

"Well, you know Kristof, don't you?"

Ah, Kristof. Lovely. He felt beside himself for a moment. Not that he had anything against the man, not at all. In this moment, seeing the two of you together in his mind just simply did not click like it usually did. It felt off. Aggravating. 

Scandalabra gave a tight smile, nodding. "Of course, naturally. Excited, aren't you?"

"Oh, can you tell? It'll be something different, that's for sure," you answered with a nervous laugh. "Well, he's just so... I don't know, big? In control, I'd say. More of, uh, a manly man, right?"

And again, oddly aggravating. His eye twitched.

"What do you mean, different? Manly?" 

You pursed your lips and thought. Your words seemed to clash on your tongue as you tried to explain yourself. "He's not exactly like you, love. He's just—I suppose, more in touch with his masculine side. More dominant."

Scandalabra feigned indifference, eyeing his cuticles with his best imitation of being unbothered.

He was bothered, though. Extremely so. What was so different between him and what's-his-face? He was a man, just as manly as any other man in the house. Very manly, he would argue! And as a very manly man, he was peeved!  

Peeved and pouting. The two P's they teach in Manliness 101. On the right cusp of a meltdown, he was, but he collected himself and opted for simply crossing his arms and sighing.

And sighing again. And again. And once more for good measure, hoping you would notice. When you didn't, too busy abusing your lipstick with your already pigmented lips, Scandalabra spoke up.

"So, Kristof?" he questioned, voice drenched with passive aggression and annoyance. "Looking for him to knock you around a bit tonight, eh? Rightly tussled and manhandled?"

You saw the petulance in his squinted eyes and the clench in his sharp jaw. You have a small, knowing smile. "Jealous?"

"I do not get jealous," he said. 

You turned around and wiped at the crease between his eyebrow, not only to smooth out the angry wrinkle there, but to smooth out his foundation where he had messed it up. "You are right now."

With a huff, he ignored your prodding. He loved feeling your hands on him so tenderly, but right now, he was upset. 

"You know, he'll be rough with you," he said, nose tipping up in the air.

"Oh, I'm sure." You traced a finger under his jaw. "That is the point, after all."

"Well, what if he bruises you?"

With the urge to eyeroll taking over you, you leaned in a pressed a wee kiss to tide him over. "You'll be the first one to kiss them better, won't you?"

"Yes." Of course he would. He would do anything for you. Anything but let you leave him tonight. "Why him? He won't be able to appreciate how lovely you look tonight. He'll tear your lace and linen!"

"Scandy."

"I could be more like that, if that's what you so desire," he said, wanting to sound more abrasive than bratty. It worked, slightly. "You think I'm just a pretty dandy, and I am, but I'm also a man, darling, a man just like any other. A man with needs."

You paused, your hand still resting on his jaw until your felt him snatch your wrist and yank you down. You fell on top of him, splayed out embarrassingly so. 

"Just because I'm fem does not mean I can't fuck you like you need, darling."

Despite the black messy his eyeliner made around his eyes, Scandalabra's movements never stopped. Not when his rouge was replaced by real blush. Not when his mascara started to bleed. He was ever focused on you.

"You see?" he asked between deep groans and breathless gasps. "This makeup won't stop anything, baby. Just outside decoration—doesn't change a thing."

That much was clear. You had never seen this side of him before. The side that was rough and held you down, the side that pushed your knees to your chest and bit your lips when you kissed him. 

This side of him was pretty, yes, but it was 100% man and 100% ready to take what it wanted. 

"You don't need anyone to make up for me. You can be with the others, sure, but do not ever let them think it's because I lack something," he said with a sharp breath, arms holding his weight above your head. 

"It's not that, I don't need anyone else," you slurred, legs tensing up. "Only you."

"I've got everything you could ever need. I can be anything you could ever want." 

His hand gently traced the curve of your neck, wrapping around it. Not squeezing and not tight. Just anchoring you and reminding you. 

He didn't need to bruise you or mark you. His hand was merely symbolic. He already had you marked in so many invisible ways. The way your breath hitched belonged to him. The gasps and giggles be drew from you were also his. Your body, your orgasms, your pleasure—his property. Even if he wasn't the one using you, you were his and his alone. Even if he wasn't there to see it. 

All his.

"Tell me all about it later tonight, love," Scandalabra said, sliding his hand back up your jaw and over your ear, "but you won't be able to tell me he was better at pleasing you than I. That's something nobody can say."

[namoinmandos]

And he could not close his eyes for even a second. Namo hugged himself, as he thought, and yet his thoughts kept straying towards what happened and towards the sensations still burning on his skin, of Melkor holding him, of Melkor and the warmth he had felt.

And he now felt alone. No, not alone, lonely. As if something was missing.

He felt the blizzard raging outside, and he felt cold. He felt shivers that could not be quieted, no matter how long he turned on the bed, or how much he tried to shove away his own thoughts. Was he scared? Did he desire being with Melkor? Had he found someone he understood, and that would understand him?

He could not sleep.

He could not hold himself, not after that rollercoaster of emotions that the mere touch of Melkor had awakened into him. He wanted to give answers, and yet he felt that even more questions were crowding his mind.

And he could not hold it in anymore.

He got out of bed, covered his naked body with Melkor's robe, his clothes unreachable, and went to the fireplace. If anything, the hours spent pondering had made his want more acute. He found Melkor by the fireplace. The other Vala seemed angry, somehow. Namo knelt in front of him, his voice shaky. "I hoped I would have answers, and I do not, Melkor. But as it is, I wish not to leave this place, not yet. I wish not to feel lonely." He made a pause, lowering his head. "I wish... I wish for warmth... Your warmth, your touch. For you to hold me... And guide me..." He bit his lips. "I feel... Still confused. Perhaps scared. But I wish... To understand more. Please, Melkor. I wish..." For you to take me and reassure me, he wanted to say, and yet felt embarrassed to say out loud.

His heart was beating loudly, his mind still frazzled, and yet he clearly had understood one thing. The desire of being held, of not being lonely. He probably was not making sense, but eventually all that wave of emotions would subside.

Namo fell silent, thinking about the words Melkor was saying. He felt somewhat conflicted about his own emotions, currently all thrown into chaos. He let Melkor's words sink in, before speaking. Was that truly bravery giving himself to the Dark Lord? Or had it been the teasing, the curiousness he had just taking over him?

He did not know.

Perhaps he would have better answers once he had rested.

What he had not expected was that he was desiring more from Melkor. That his craving, the want, the crawling sensation under his skin, they were for Melkor. "May I... May I rest here alone? I think... I believe I need some time to process everything..." His voice was nearly a murmur. And he felt the need to process everything that he had felt asa way to clear his mind.

He did not dare look at Melkor, he feared that if he did he would lose himself completely in the haze. He wanted to understand himself, and where this desire would bring him. Had it been just the temptation he caved in, some selfish thought, or did he truly wish for more, way more? Becoming one with Melkor again and in full, images of his own naked body underneath Melkor's flashing in his mind and making him shiver. "If I may... I shall find you in the morning... with answers."

He would not be able to sleep at all, that was for sure. But he could now ponder over worries and unanswered questions.

[eufezco]

MOONY'S BACK! 𓂃 𓈒 ❀

marauder!remus lupin x slytherin!reader

synopsis — remus returns from his first date with you, a slytherin girl, and has to face his friends’ teasing in the common room.

fluff

remus entered the gryffindor common room.

he felt his heart beating harder than usual and his nose and cheeks were flushed from the cold air—and perhaps something more. the fire crackled softly in the hearth. before going in, remus knew the common room won't be empty. his friends had been insufferably annoying all week about this day and remus had a feeling they’d been waiting for him to return.

and sure enough, they were there. sirius lounged across the armchair closest to the fire, his legs draped over one arm and his head resting against the other. james was seated on the couch, reading a copy of quidditch weekly, while lily was resting against his body, with her head on his chest. peter was lying on the floor talking to her.

—moony's back! —peter announced. not even a second after remus set a foot into the common room. the moment those words left peter’s mouth, james, lily and sirius jumped from their seats.

—oh he's cheeks are more red than his gryffindor scarf!

remus touched them with the back of his hand as he took off his coat and scarf and left them hanging on a chair. —it's because of the snow outside.

—yeah, sure it's not because of that slytherin girl.

—did she kissed you? —peter asked straight up.

remus cheeks grew even hotter but he didn't answer to the question.

—you gotta tell us everything, moony! come on!

lily dragged him next to the fireplace and forced him to sit on the rug.

—is it really necessary? —remus asked, dying of embarrassment as he glanced up at his friends, who were eagerly looking back at him. james and sirius went back to sit on the couch, lily and peter were sitting in front of him on the floor.

—of course, it is! —lily said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

—oh, come on, moony, we’re all dying here, we've been waiting all afternoon. we just want to know how the date of the century went.

remus rolled his eyes at sirius words.

james decided that it was his time to join sirius' teasing. —yeah, and with a slytherin girl, no less. did she try to hex you? or, i dunno, bite you?

—good question, prongs. did she call you a blood traitor between compliments?

lily let out a dramatic sigh, giving them a sharp look. —you two are absolutely insufferable, —she said and turned back to remus, her voice softening. —don’t listen to them. they’re just jealous you had an actual date.

—she didn’t hex me, bite me, or called me a blood traitor, alright? she was perfectly nice and we had a great time —. remus stated. james and sirius huffed a laugh.

—a great time is suspiciously vague. care to elaborate?

remus played with his hands, the heat coming back to his cheeks when he started to remember everything.

—did she like the flowers, remus? —peter asked with excitement.

remus stood at the door of the castle, waiting for you. every time he looked at the bouquet in his hands, the wildflowers he carefully picked himself, he felt a little ridiculous. maybe it was too much for a first date. what if you thought it was silly? or worse, what if you didn’t like flowers at all? what if you were allergic to flowers? —flowers, moony? bold move. what’s next, planning the wedding? he shouldn't have told james and sirius. they spent the whole morning teasing him, and now their words were stuck on repeat in his mind. but peter told him it was a good idea, you were always so focused in herbology so you'd most likely loved them. in the middle of all the overthinking, remus heard the soft sound of footsteps on stone. he looked up, and there you were, walking down the stair with a shy but bright smile. your heart beat faster after seeing remus and you had to focus on the stairs, the last thing you wanted was to trip and make a fool of yourself in front of him. still, you only could think about how sweet he looked, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other. —hi —you said, your voice a little breathless but smiling. —hi —he replied. remus held out the bouquet. —these are for you. i thought you might like them. your eyes fell to the flowers. it was a careful mix of pinks, yellows and whites. the gesture made your chest ache in the best way because you know that he picked them himself for you. —they’re beautiful, —you said, your fingers brushing his as you took them. —thank you, remus. i love them.

—yes! i knew she'd love them —. peter said, triumphant.

—tell us, moony, did you hold her hand?

—padfoot, the audacity! —james gasped dramatically. —you held her hand on the first date, moony? i don't know who you are anymore!

remus rolled his eyes while he rubbed his hands, brushing over his thick scars. he tried not to hold your hand, not because he didn’t want to, but because he knew you’d notice the scars. and though he knew you weren’t the kind of person to say anything unkind, the thought of you touching them, of you asking about them, made his stomach twist.

to avoid falling in the snow, you had hooked your arm in remus'. you were laughing, your boots crunching through the snow, the conversation had flowed easily as always happened between you two. you were so comfortable in his presence that you didn't even realize that your hand began to slide down his arm, fingers tracing along the thick fabric of his coat until they slipped into his, curling naturally around his hand. when you glanced up at him, his cheeks were red but his lips curved into a shy smile. remus didn’t pull away. if anything, his hand tightened around yours. the scars on his hands didn’t matter to you. you noticed them long ago, during one of those afternoons in the library when the two of you studied together. he was flipping through the pages of a book and you saw them. it wasn’t hard to tell that he was self-conscious about them, he always wore the longest sweaters, ones that hung just past his wrists and sometimes even covered all his hands. that’s why you never asked him about it, except when you noticed some fresh ones, you couldn't help but ask him if he was okay.

—she was the one who held your hand! —james repeated. —moony, i think this girls wants to marry you.

—we’ll start planning the wedding now. peter, you can handle the flowers, moony’s already set the tone with that bouquet.

and they all laughed, even lily, who usually rolled her eyes at sirius and james’s relentless teasing, and remus, who usually found himself the victim of their jokes, couldn’t help but crack a smile.

—but come on, keep telling us!

—well, we walked to hogsmeade and we first visited some bookstores. she loves reading, she was so excited, practically dragging me around the place to show me her favorite sections and i had no complaints, as you can imagine.

james and sirius exchanged a look in disbelief and for once, neither of them could think of something to say. they had never seen their friend remus like this.

it wasn’t that girls hadn’t shown interest in him before, they had. but remus had always been polite, reserved, never letting things go past a conversation about books or classwork. he’d keep his distance, waving them hi in the corridors, showing them shy smiles, remembering their names, listening when they spoke, even sharing his notes if they needed help.

but dating? that had always seemed beyond him. it was complicated, messy, and exposed.

—merlin’s beard, —sirius murmured not wanting to interrupt remus who kept talking about you. sirius glanced at james with wide eyes. —she’s breaking down his walls.

james nodded slowly, an incredulous grin spreading across his face. —and he’s letting her.

the moment you turned the corner, your eyes landed on the familiar wooden sign swinging gently in the breeze, your favorite bookstore. it was small, away from the main street of hogsmeade, often closed when you visited, as if it only opened for those who truly needed it. you gasped, catching your breath in surprise. —it’s open! and he didn’t resist, letting you drag him toward the door. remus could immediately see why you liked the store so much, it was cozy, small but inviting, and it smelled like coffee and wood. run by an elderly woman who greeted you both as you entered, she gave you a knowing nod, as though she’d seen your excitement countless times before. —it's good that you've finally brought your boyfriend here. a handsome gryffindor boy, no less, welcome dear. remus froze for a split second, his cheeks hot red. —oh, i... um... —he looked at you for help. you couldn’t help but laugh at his expression, though your own cheeks felt a little warm. —he’s not my... —you started, but the old woman waved you off with a twinkle in her eye. —no need to explain, dear, you don’t have to tell an old woman what’s plain to see —. she winked at you both before turning back to her counter. you nudged him playfully. —don’t worry, she says things like that to everyone. probably —remus gave you a skeptical look but couldn’t help smiling as he let you lead him deeper into the shop.

of course, he didn't tell his friends about this, he didn't even want to think about how much james and sirius would tease him.

remus continued talking about you. lily looked at him closely, wanting to know everything he could tell her about you. —she has good taste in books, she recommended me one about history of magic, she says it will make that class more interesting and help me pay more attention.

—that's so sweet of her. she noticed that you zone out during history of magic —. a sweet giggle escaped lily's lips.

remus rubbed the back of his neck. —yeah, i guess it’s not exactly a secret. —he shook his head, he didn't want to talk about history of magic right now, he wanted to keep talking about you. —then we went to the three broomstick.

—let me guess, she ordered something weird, like firewhisky, and you had to pretend to be cool with it?

remus rolled his eyes. —no, sirius. she ordered butterbeer, like a normal person.

—remus, you two seem to be very comfortable around each other —lily said, her tone innocent, but the mischievous twinkle in her eyes betrayed her. —there had to be a kiss.

sirius and james shared a look, they seemed genuinely surprised by lily’s boldness but they didn't say anything because they were more interested in remus' answer. the heat of his cheeks spread all the way up to his ears. james’s eyes widened as he caught remus’s expression. —so there was a kiss! —he exclaimed, pointing a finger at him like he’d just solved a mystery.

—do we really need to talk about this?

—yes! —all four of them said in unison.

you sat across from remus, the soft light from the lanterns of the three broomsticks lightened his face with a soft glow. it caught the silvery scars that lined his cheek, making them shimmer faintly, though he seemed oblivious to it. a single butterbeer sat between you, the two of you had been sharing it. you pointed at the corner of remus’s mouth. —oh, you have something, —you said, gesturing to the spot. —where? —he asked, looking confused as he swiped at his mouth. —no, it’s more to the... —you leaned over the table. —here, let me. you reached out and used your thumb to gently wipe away the trace of butterbeer at the corner of his lips. the moment leaned in closer, just a few inches apart now, his golden-brown eyes widened slightly, his breath catching as he looked at you. you closed the gap, your lips brushed his in a sweet kiss. remus froze for a moment but then he closed his eyes and melted into it. when you pulled back, his cheeks were pink, his expression soft as he said —you, um... you missed a spot. you laughed, your own cheeks warm as you sat back down. —i’ll get it next time.

the room went silent for a beat. peter sat there thinking, confusion spreading across his face. james was the one who broke the silence as he threw his head back, laughing. —that’s brilliant! the old ‘you’ve got something on your face’ trick.

peter was still confused. sirius shook his head. —she’s bold. i like her.

lily was smiling warmly. —i think it’s cute, —she said. —clearly, she’s not afraid to show how she feels.

peter’s eyes widened and he gasped as the realization hit him. —so she kissed you twice! —he exclaimed.

sirius groaned. it was working just fine, they were all surprised that remus had told them about another kiss and not the one they had seen from the common room, but they handled it just fine and knew how to hide it, all except peter. sirius threw one of the pillows at him. —you idiot!

remus frowned, it was true that you kissed him twice but how could peter possibly know that? —you spied on us?!

—spied is a strong word —. james said.

peter lifted his arms defensively, ducking as another pillow came flying his way. —no, not spy! we just… saw you two walking back to the castle. by accident! while we were… uh, checking the weather.

james smirked, leaning back in his seat. —exactly and that second kiss? didn’t think you were that much taller than her, moony, but there she was, standing on her tiptoes in the snow. pretty romantic, actually.

remus was mortified.

you walked arm in arm with remus back to the castle, his presence keeping you warm enough from the cold weather outside. the date went better than you ever could have imagined. remus was charming, thoughtful, and surprisingly funny. every moment with him felt genuine, like the two of you existed in a bubble where nothing else mattered. as you neared the castle, you found yourself thinking about how you didn't want the evening to end. you stopped face to face, you had to say goodbye but the words didn't come out of any of yours mouth. you didnt want it to end. remus stood there, his hands awkwardly tucked into the pockets of his coat, his gaze flickering between your face and the ground. —well... —you both said at the same time. —see you tomorrow in class. you nodded. —yeah, see you tomorrow —. your arms wrapped around him in a gentle hug. his arms slowly went around your waist, pulling you in just a little bit closer. when you pulled back from the hug, the space between you was closer, and you couldn’t help but notice how his eyes lingered on your lips. your heart beat faster in your chest, and before either of you could think too much about it, you stood on your tiptoes and closed the distance, pressing your lips to his one more time. remus took his hands out of his pockets to hold your face and yours pressed against his chest. when you finally pulled away, the smile on remus’s face told you everything you needed to know. —see you tomorrow, then? —you whispered softly, still a little dazed from the kiss. he nodded, his smile never fading. —yeah. tomorrow.

—and you should be grateful that i didn't let them use the invisibility cloak —. lily added.

remus groaned, dragging his hands down his face. —grateful? you’ve got to be joking.

lily's expression softened as she leaned forward. —but seriously, remus, it sounds like it was a nice date. it’s good to see you happy.

—yeah, it was great seeing that slytherin trying to suck your soul and you gladly letting her do it.

lily gave sirius a sharp look, but even she couldn't suppress a small smile at his teasing. remus, however, looked like he might die of embarrassment as he buried his face in his hands again.

—i'm so done with this conversation —. remus added as he stood up from the floor. he wanted to go to sleep as soon as possible so that tomorrow he would arrive earlier.

james just grinned. —you can’t stop now, moony. we’ve just started.

[yanderenightmare]

Reo Mikage & Nagi Seishiro

♡ TW: nsfw, doubt, misunderstanding

♡ FEM reader

Thinking about how, drunk one night after partying with some of your boyfriend Reo’s teammates and watching him and Nagi sing one too many karaoke songs in each other’s arms, you make a dumb joke about how if they wanted to fuck, you’d be down to watch.

He doesn’t answer, and your eyes are already closed, ready to fall asleep, so you don’t see the look he gives you—peeled eyes already picturing it.

You think nothing of it when he rolls over you a few moments later, feeling hornier than usual. You’re too drunk and tired to put much effort back into it, but Reo doesn’t seem to mind—holding you close while panting at your ear, being clingier than usual. You just blame it on the drink.

Nagi’s Reo’s best friend and roommate, so it’s not strange for them to be close. Nor is it strange for the three of you to hang out, either. It’s just… somehow, the vibe feels a little weird after that night. You’re not sure why, but every time you come over, it’s as if there’s this expectation in the air, as if they’re waiting for something.

The three of you are drinking one night not long after. And that odd feeling you’d been feeling lately quickly disappears along with the first few cans of beer. Everything feels normal. The three of you watch a movie, talk a bit, and have a few laughs, and after switching to something stronger, you all end up sitting on the floor, passing the last of the bottle around like college kids. Good ol’ times.

And then Nagi kisses you.

“What the fuck?”

You jolt back, and the empty bottle rolls across the floor.

There’s a standstill as you ask yourself what just happened, believing the question is more than clearly expressed on your face. But, instead of apologizing or explaining himself, Nagi just looks at Reo, causing you to look at him as well. And that strange feeling reappears—the one that tells you there’s something you’re missing.

“What’s going on?” you decide to break the silence since neither of them was bothering to clue you in, keeping your eyes trained on Reo, giving him a glare, demanding he explain himself.

His voice is low, a little embarrassed perhaps, and a little suggestive in the way he speaks as if hoping you’d take his meaning without further clarification, “You said you wouldn’t mind if Seishi joined us...” 

It completely stunts you, head entirely blank for a second or a few until it settles, and you backtrack to that night a week ago. 

“What?” You shake your head with an off-put and perplexed grimace. “That was a joke!”

You sit there then, feeling weird all over—seeing only one conclusion after wracking your brain.

“Oh my god!” you exclaim and get up in a hurry. “I can’t believe this—if the two of you want to fuck, get your butts out of the closet and do it already!” You storm off, flushed and mortified beyond repair, muttering loudly, “Can’t believe you’re dragging me into this. I’m going home. Never call me.”

You’re stopped before you get very far. Reo’s hand around your upper arm is not too hard but enough to make you halt despite your determined stomping. Needing to get out of there quick before the tears could come—you can’t believe you’ve been someone's beard all this time. Can’t believe he’d string you along like this, use you, and you actually thought you loved–

“You got it all wrong,” he insists, pulling you back to look at him. “It’s not Seishi and me.”

“I mean, how would we? We’re both tops,” Nagi adds, only a step behind.

You bite your lip. So confused you’re sputtering when you ask, “What then? So, you want a threesome? Is that what this is about?”

Reo laughs nervously—something he never does—saying, “Not exactly...” 

You can’t say he’s being of much help. “Then what?”

“Y’know…” 

He’s blushing profusely in a manner you’ve never before seen. 

He can’t even look at you as he bows down and whispers in your ear,  “I want to watch.”

♡ MISCELLANEOUS masterlist

[ebodebo]

Dinner, Dinner!

—jason misses your anniversary dinner, but makes it up to you… MDNI

"Would you like to browse our dessert menu, madam?" The waiter asks in a thick French accent as he stretches his arm out to pour your second glass of wine.

Your brain is fogged as your fingers fiddle with the stem of the glass as you swirl the crimson liquid around, splashing all sides of the glass. 

"Madam?" The waiter repeats. You hadn't even realized you hadn't answered his previous question. You flick your eyes to his.

"I…um—sorry, can you repeat the question?" Your mind is clouded with a storm of fury and hurt. Jason, your boyfriend, had forgotten your anniversary dinner, leaving you to endure the sympathetic glances of strangers as they noticed the empty seat across from you.

"Of course, madam. I asked if you would like to see the dessert menu," the waiter repeats, his voice a distant echo. You turn your head to the empty seat in front of you, the thought of enduring the restaurant's atmosphere a daunting prospect. 

"Could I just have the cremé brûlée?" You finally ask, your eyes still fixed on the empty seat, your voice trembling slightly. "In a to-go box, please."

It was the first dessert you and Jason shared at this very restaurant, three years ago today. 

"Of course," the waiter said curtly, turning slightly before you raised your voice.

"And, um, could you take the other wine glass?" You awkwardly ask. He simply nods again, carefully placing the stem between his index and middle fingers upside down before turning away to tend to another table.

You should just leave.

It was clear he wasn't coming.

A light smile etched into your face as the waiter set the to-go box with the fancy dessert. You carefully reached into your purse, steadily gripping your wallet to pay. The waiters brought his hands up, shaking his head side-to-side.

"Please. No payment is necessary, madam. Enjoy the dessert," he says kindly. You sniffle, a stray tear falling down your face. You nod gently, issuing a strained, 'Thank you.'

He curtly nods, turning to go back into the kitchen. You gather your things, including the dessert, and move to walk out of the front door.

Upon stepping outside, you are met with the cold Gotham air. Your dress even sways in the wind as you walk, and your heels clank against the pavement. 

The walk home wasn't too long, maybe six minutes or so, but God, did it feel like an eternity. All you could think about was how hurt and disappointed you were and what you would say to Jason when you inevitably saw him.

Your brain tried to conjure all the reasons he didn't show.

Did he forget, or did he purposefully not come?

Now, you knew it couldn't be the latter, Jason wasn't a dick. 

He was just an idiot. 

Your thoughts continued as you stuck your key in the lock and carefully twisted it to unlock your front door, pushing it open quickly.

You set your purse down on a table next to the door, glancing at a framed photo of you and Jason happily eating ice cream on Jason's birthday last year.

You felt sick.

You quickly flick your attention away as your eyes begin to well with hot tears, easing your way into the kitchen. You stand on the cold tile for a minute before getting a sudden inspiration rush.

You didn't want to think about him any longer tonight. You'd prepare a hot tea, watch a movie, or perhaps even read a good book. 

Yes. That sounded like a fine plan.

As you were steeping the leaves in hot water, a knock on the front door pulled your attention away. You left the bag to steep and returned to the door. Pulling the door open, you were met with Red Hood—aka your boyfriend, Jason—gripping a bouquet of fresh flowers.

You're tempted to slam the door in his pretty face, but you don't—not yet, anyway.

"I'm an asshole," he says, his voice distorted from his modulator. 

The sight was ridiculous; if you weren't so pissed, you'd laugh.

He realizes the absurdity of the situation. "God damn, fuckin' helmet," he irritably gruffs, ripping off his helmet. Your eyes widen, your mouth hanging open. 

Anyone could simply walk by and figure out who the highly sought-after vigilante was.

"Jason, you can't just—get inside!" You grip his arm, dragging him inside the confines of your home—an action you immediately regret. 

"Fuck, baby," he begins. "I'm—I'm so sorry," his tone is sincere as he anxiously drags his hands through his hair. 

"I looked like an idiot, Jason," you breathe out, reaching for the bouquet of flowers he brought. 

Hell, it wasn't their fault Jason was stupid. 

"I know—" he says, following you into your kitchen as you fill a vase with water for the flowers.

"A fucking idiot," you snap, setting the flowers gently into the water. You reach for a pair of scissors. "I requested an extra wine glass when I sat down, and I had to be the one to tell him to take it away," you angrily say, snipping some of the leaves off.

"Baby, I'm really, really sorry. I got caught up—"

"Where were you?" You set the scissors down, turning to look at him.

"Dick needed some help scouting a potential crime circuit in Blüdhaven," he sighs. "He told me it wouldn't take long. Should've known better," he wipes his hand over his face, hissing at the contact.

Your eyes sweep over his face, taking note of the fresh cuts and bruises that now taint his face. Fresh blood prickled from some; others were caked in layers of it.

"Are you hurt?" You ask, concern lacing your words.

He raises a brow. "Don't worry about me, Sweetheart. I'll be alright. I'm more concerned about you," he admits honestly. 

"You're bleeding," you observe, wincing at the sight.

"Just a hair," he lightly smiles. "I'm okay."

Sure, you were pissed at your boyfriend, but you wouldn't let him be in agony like he was. 

He was bleeding, for God's sake.

"Let me clean them up," you simply say.

"No, no. I'm fine—" he began, shaking his head lightly.

"Please," you insist.

He huffs, then accepts defeat. He takes your hand stretched out and follows you to the bathroom. He sits on the toilet as you fumble through your medicine cabinet to gather band-aids and Neosporin. 

"I hope it's okay. I, um, only have these band-aids," you awkwardly say, holding up a box with a familiar blue hero on the cover. 

"Baby, why do you have Nightwing band-aides?" He questions skeptically.

"Dick brought them to white elephant last year, and I got stuck with them," you lightly laugh. "He's a horrible gift-giver."

Jason laughs. "Promise to remind me to take them off before I leave. He cannot see me with these on. He'd have a damn field day," he grumbles as you laugh. 

"I promise I'll remind you," you affirm, pulling a small step ladder in front of him so you could sit before carefully squirting a bit of the ointment out onto your pointer finger and pressing it to each of Jason's cuts.

He barely winces or whines as you continue the action, delicately tending to each cut. His eyes wander to yours, focusing heavily with determination on what you are doing, even sticking your tongue out to concentrate. 

"I don't deserve this," he heaves as you open some band-aids.

"What? To have ten Nightwing band-aides on you all at once?" You laugh, carefully laying each of the band-aids over the cuts.

He snickers. "That and you taking care of me."

You pull back slightly. "What?"

"I ruined our anniversary tonight. I left you alone in that restaurant and, look at you, still taking care of me," he exasperates. "I don't deserve you."

You frown. "Don't say that. I mean, ya, it was shitty, but just because you did something shitty one time or even twice doesn't make you undeserving of my love, Jason," you gently say, fingers moving to caress his jaw on their own volition. 

He leans into your hand. "I just don't want to lose you. I love you."

Jason and you have exchanged hundreds, if not thousands, of "I love yous" throughout your relationship, but this one felt different. 

It felt more like a sacred prayer spilling from his lips—a tender plea from the depths of his soul. It felt all that much more divine.

You found yourself leaning to kiss his lips, your hands moving to thread through his hair. His lips instantly moved with yours, and his hand gripped your cheek.

It was a tender kiss—an 'I'm sorry,' wrapped in an 'It's okay.'

As the seconds passed, the kiss became more fervent—urgent. You even slipped off the step ladder and moved onto Jason's lap. He welcomed you with open arms, encasing you tightly with each of his hands on your hips as you straddled him.

Your hands glided through his hair messily and eagerly as his hands massaged the fat of your hips. You let out a whine that Jason catches as he slips his tongue in your mouth.

You find yourself rocking against him, desperate for friction. He groans, gripping your thighs tightly as he stands with you, guiding you towards your bedroom.

Never once did your lips disconnect.

He gently lays you on the bed as he hastily sheds his boots, armored jacket, gloves, and pants. Your breathing is labored as you follow suit, gingerly slipping off your simple black dress and kicking off your heels, revealing your matching red bra and pantie set you had worn.

Jason stands in front of you in nothing but his boxers, eyes soaking you in.

"What?" You question nervously, feeling self-conscious with his eyes so focused on you. 

"Did you—did you wear that for me?" He asks lazily.

Your lips quip. "Duh. Who else?" You giggle. "You like it?"

He lets out a dry laugh, moving to hover over your body, sticking his arm out to stabilize himself so as not to crush you. "I think I need to take a closer look," he cheekily says, moving his mouth closer to the strap of the bra, taking it between his teeth, pulling a little, then flicking it back. You let out a small whine, feeling the fabric snap back on your skin.

"Sure is sturdy," he observes, fingers coming to slip it down your shoulder. "And a nice color," he murmurs into your shoulder, sending goosebumps down your arm.

"Ya?" You idly question as his lips skim your collarbone.

"Mhm. It's very nice, Baby," he mumbles into your skin, fingers moving to skim the band of your panties. "And these," he begins. "Don't even get me started." He lightly nips your skin with his teeth, eliciting another whine. 

His fingers slip under the band, pulling them down so they sit around your lower thighs. "Ah, there she is," he coos, cupping your dripping cunt with his hand.

"Jason," you moan, pushing yourself into his hand more.

"What, Baby?" His words were low and dragged out, almost breathy.

"I—I need more," you groan, hand moving to rest on his hand on you, encouraging more movement from him. 

"I'll do you one better," he takes his hand away, making you frown, though he moves to slip his boxers down, showcasing his erect cock. 

He strokes himself once before guiding himself into your entrance, leaning down to kiss your temple lightly as he pushes himself inside your cunt. You hiss at the contact, gripping his shoulders tightly.

He groans as one of his hands comes to grip behind your neck, and the other moves to lift your leg up slightly so he can grip your thigh, giving a better angle as he moves at a consistent pace.

A desperate mewl escapes your mouth as his pace fastens. Jason's hand has moved to rest on your breast in your bra as he throws his head back, groaning and spewing curses.

You sit up slightly, gripping his neck, pulling him down to your lips. He kisses you roughly, even sucking your bottom lip in the process. You bring your leg up to wrap around his torso, pushing him even more deeply; he groans as his hand slides to grip the hinge of your leg.

"Jay, I'm gonna—" You begin breathlessly.

"I know, Baby. I know," he purrs into your mouth. "Feel so good."

You grip his neck tighter, lips pressing into his shakily, as you feel yourself tighten around him. All you have had to do was moan his name into his mouth to have him following suit, even moving one hand to grip the sheets beneath as he comes.

You're both gasping for air. Jason eases himself out of you and plops beside you, pulling you close so your face rests on his chest.

"As far as orgasms go, that one was great," you pant, fingers moving to trace the lines between Jason's abs.

"Ya? Do I get a golden star?" He tuts, fingers playing with your hair.

"Sorry, Babe. I only give golden stars for extra credit," you jest, looking up at him.

"Extra credit, you say?" He asks, a wolfish grin spreading across his face. "I think I can do that." He lifts up abruptly, getting off the bed.

"What're you—" You begin to question before he's tugging you towards him by your ankles, planting his face in between your legs.

"Jay!" You shriek, though make no effort to move as his tongue lapses at your sensitive clit.

"I really want that golden star," he mumbles into you.

a/n: finally finished this fic that has been haunting my drafts for months upon months ( ͡ಥ ͜ʖ ͡ಥ)

reblogs & comments are encouraged!

[screampied]

can you do soft sukuna after an argument vegas for fluff pretty please i think we deserve it after all you've done to us

໒꒱ ₊˚ ‘ MAYBE I’M THE PROBLEM﹒⺡ SUKUNA RYŌMEN. ’

sum. gn! reader, angst with c-comfort, he’s a softie at heart, fluff, petnames, ty lucy for beta'ing <3

“what’s with you today?” sukuna furrows his eyebrows, and he lightly grabs your wrist. you face him only to briefly look away with a stubborn scowl. “you didn’t have to do that. i can take care of myself.”

he was referring to earlier…how careless you were, at least from his perspective. throwing yourself in danger just for sukuna. perhaps it was stupid, but at that particular moment—you didn’t have a thought that crossed your mind.

“well, i did,” you mumble, and sukuna bites his tongue from the inside of his cheek. his nostrils flare before he grabs your shoulders.

“what are you not getting? and if you died trying to protect me, then what?” and for a brief moment, it was dead silence. you stared at sukuna, and you can’t remember a time he looked like this. sukuna was … scared. the more you looked into his dark eyes, once full of arrogance and wit — instead, his pupils dilated and widened. his thumbs gently pressed into your skin, and then he continues to speak. “how can you even be calm about something like that?”

“i wouldn’t have to do things like that if you’d just be more careful,” you chastise, a sudden wave of gloom spraying over you. sukuna kept pausing every few seconds, as if he was carefully thinking of what to reply with.

sukuna’s almost got a glare before he sighs. “i told you. i can take care of myse—”

“no, you can’t sukuna. you know how many times you’ve almost died? the countless days where i’d be worried sick about you. if anyone’s reckless, it’s you. and you wonder why i act like this, it’s because i’m in love with you, you idiot.”

you don’t even register your words, it’s as if you’ve been yearning to get that out for ages.

sukuna grows mute, trying to figure if he actually heard what he’d just heard. you…you were in love with someone like him?

the awkward silence was deafening, a single tear strolls down your cheek before sukuna’s face suddenly softens.

he brings a thumb up to your cheek, swiping the tear aside before muttering in a raspy, “you love me?”

“i thought it was pretty obvious,” you grumble, avoiding his eye contact. your heart ached, never in your life have you felt this vulnerable. saying it out loud only made you flustered immensely quick. a soft smile goes against his lips — you didn’t answer his question, but he knew the answer. you loved sukuna. “but whatever.”

“oi. don’t ‘whatever’ me,” sukuna mutters, cupping both sides of your face. he has you stare right into his eyes, the eyes where most see a cruel villainous person, you see the softest eyes imaginable. reserved only for you. “look at me,” and you finally meet his gaze, a smug grin slowly tugs against the corners of his mouth. “you’re in love with me.”

a weird tingly feeling crept up inside your stomach, and you give sukuna a glare. “you know,” he keeps speaking, a soft finger stroking your cheek. “instead of almost dying for me, you could have been normal and just said, ‘i love you’.”

“…shut up,” you grouse, entirely abashed. he found it cute seeing you like this. in the midst of your mini tantrum - sukuna hums to himself, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

“hmpf. well, i suppose i love you too, brat,” he utters, watching your face briefly light up at his words. sukuna saying it back couldn’t have made your heart swoon even more, but it did. “and i’m sorry for being so careless.”

you felt butterflies collide inside your tummy before you blink, ears perking at his first initial words and you pout. “you suppose?”

sukuna looks down at you before he awkwardly pats your head. “i … love you,” his voice was a mere soft rasp. studying his stare, sukuna started to grow a tad bit embarrassed. even more than you. as his fingers softly roam through your hair, he leans up close to your face and scoffs. “happy now?”

“i love you more,” you smile, feeling more relieved. he’s taken aback once you hug him. sukuna’s always been so stiff at something as simple as a hug. your frame held his waist tightly, and he’d never admit it but it was adorable.

sukuna scowls. “…. you’re squishing me.”

“shut up and hug me back.” you sigh, only taking this as an opportunity to squeeze him tighter. he was so warm.

usually…sukuna wouldn’t let anyone get this close, yet alone do this. a simple affectionate hug.

he groans, slowly wrapping his arms around you. “you’re so annoying,” and as your head rests against his chest — you look up at him, a soft smile goes against your lips. “pain in my damn ass.”

“talking about your ass isn’t romantic, ‘kuna.” you raise your brows . . . obviously kidding, but he groans.

with an eye roll, sukuna does the unexpected and pulls you up close towards his face. with a perplexed grin, you watch as he grabs you into a chaste kiss. it takes you by surprise, your hands remain flat and still before you wrap your arms around him. sukuna’s soft with you, you made him soft—and he hated it, but a tiny part of him secretly loved it too.

abruptly, he pulls the kiss away before glaring at you. “i love you.”

“i love you too, kuku.”

“…..call me that again and see what happens.”

[hexescore]

my husband is the best husband ever, just so you know~

♡ ◞ includes: ekko, jayce, loris, silco, vander, viktor.

♡ ◞ summary: calling them your husband, despite the fact you two aren't married yet.

♡ ◞ warnings: gn! reader. mentions of marriage/calling them 'husband'. not proofread hehe. the women of arcane edition will be coming.

EKKO

Ekko had started it actually, accidentally referring to you as his spouse. He was so embarrassed at his little slip up he locked himself up in his lab and tried to avoid you for the rest of the day. You, of course, wouldn't let this slide.

"Ekko? Let me in." He couldn't stay in there all day, you knew it, he knew it, everyone knew it. Ekko had responsibilities he'd have to get to eventually, and you'd take advantage of that knowledge by camping outside his lab all day and night if you had too.

"No." You frown at his single, but unwavering, answer.

"My husband is so mean to me~" You whine, faking a pout. It's quiet for a moment, and then the door opens and you fall backwards.

"You're very annoying." He says, and you roll your eyes as you pick yourself up off the ground.

"Yeah, but you love me, don't you... Husband?" Ekko glares at you, but it has no bite. Instead there's something soft in his gaze, almost adoring. He grumbles about letting you in, as long as you don't utter the 'h'-word again.

"Fine, fine, I won't say it again... if you show me what you were working on?" Ekko hesitates.

"Maybe another time." He fiddles with the ring in his pocket, the ring he had been tinkering on before he begrudgingly let you in. You'll see it eventually.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

JAYCE TALIS

Your friends had told you about the little pranks they had played on their spouses, some of them pouting at the lack of reaction, some questioning their relationship at the bad reactions, and some giggling at the excited reactions they had gotten. It made you wonder how Jayce would react to such a prank.

Deep in thought, you made your way back to your shared apartment, only to find Jayce still home. You smile, body relaxing at the sight of him. Perhaps you'd try out this little prank yourself.

"I'm home," You call out, and Jayce perks up at the sound of your voice. "Did my husband miss me?" You ask, and within seconds you wish you could take it back because Jayce freezes in place. "Ah, uhm... Jayce, I didn't-"

"No, hold on," He comes back to reality, "I'm husband."

"Huh?"

"You said- you can't take it back. I'm only to respond to husband now." He says, puffing his chest out a little, almost smug at the term. You bite back a laugh, grinning.

"Okay... Husband~" Jayce practically melts at the word, slinking his way over to you and falling into you, grinning and peppering kiss all over your face.

"Again."

"Husband~"

"Again," more kisses to your face.

"Husba-" You can't get the word out between giggles and kisses, trying to pull away but Jayce isn't letting up anytime soon— with a single word you've rendered him a lovesick fool all over again. Be sure, this title will become an official one soon enough.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

LORIS

Loris is a man of few words, even fewer expressions. Try as you might, its hard to get him to show much of a reaction to anything. "Mm, husband~" You call one morning, hoping that the earliness would make his groggy mind forget to put up a barrier to his reactions.

"... My darling husband? Shall we get something to eat?" He still doesn't react, doesn't even so much as blink at you. Instead he scratches his stomach like he does most mornings and lets out a yawn.

"Sounds good." He says, and you watch in mild annoyance as he gets ready for the day. Okay, perhaps a different approach? So later, as you're at the cafe you adore with Loris, you smile at the cashier a little too brightly.

"My husband, yes, him," you latch an arm around his large bicep, "my husband, would like a muffin." Loris glances at you, seemingly confused by your emphasis- despite it not being the reaction you wanted it, it was a reaction nonetheless. You continue your order in a defeated manner.

"You really are good at hiding your reactions," You say with a small pout, taking your usual sitting spot in the corner with Loris. "Didn't even blush," You really wish you could've seen it!

"It's not that strange," He begins, deep voice capturing your attention, "Since I call you my spouse all the time." He takes a few bites of his muffin, leaving you to sputter and short-circuit at his words. Had you been a little less mystified by his confession, you'd have notice the small blush on his ears.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

SILCO

"I'm sorry, but my husband has had a long day- perhaps you should come back another time." You said with a forced smile, closing the door on yet another crime boss with a 'proposal' for your husband. You let out a sigh as you lock the door and turn to look at said man.

Silco simply has a brow raised, amused at your words. Husband? That was a new term, but not one he necessarily hated. Instead he brushed over it, as if not to spook you from saying it again.

"Thank you, darling." He hums, slinking a little deeper into his seat. "What would I do without you?" As you walk closer to him, Silco wastes no time in trailing a hand around your thigh, pulling you closer to him.

"Hmm, probably be stuck in endless meetings, I suppose. Thankfully you have me, husband~" He chuckles lowly this time. This was likely one of your many attempts at a 'prank' to see his reaction.

"Yes, I'm ever so gracious to have such a loving spouse." He points, slight sarcasm on his tongue. "Perhaps we should make this title more permanent, since you seem to like it so much- what do you think?" and well, how could you possibly disagree?

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

VANDER

Vander was busy at the counter, so you decided to help collect the most recent shipment. It just so happens, as you're finishing up, he goes to find you. "Mm, thank you so much- my husband will be very happy with these." He's got a shit-eating grin, waiting for the other man to leave before speaking up.

"Husband, huh?" You nearly jump out of your skin, whipping around to spot Vander, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest, looking much too handsome.

"D- Don't sneak up on me like that." Vander bites back a laugh, eyeing you.

"Didn't answer me." He says, "You tellin' everyone 'm your husband?" You open your mouth, but close it just as quickly. His plans to fluster you are definitely working, but you'll be damned if he knows that.

"It's a recent development." You say, as monotone and briefly as you can. Vander can't help but let out a laugh now, tears in his eyes at your sudden shy behavior. He knows he'll have to get back to the floor soon, but first...

"Well, I like it. Hope you don't mind if I return the favor though," his words trail into a whisper as he gets closer to you, sharing a quiet kiss before he has to return to his business.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

VIKTOR

"Oh, my husband isn't a big fan of these events." You had come to the gala that evening alone, so imagine your surprise when it's pointed out that Viktor actually right behind you. Turning to face him, your ears begin to grow hot in embarrassment. He's got a smirk toying on his lips, trying hard not to laugh at your flusteredness.

"Husband, hm?" He teases, and you groan. You had hoped to keep that little term of endearment to yourself. You take the lead, guiding Viktor away from the public before he can embarrass you further.

"If you... If you don't like it, I won't say it again." You finally say, unable to look him in the eye. You two now reside in a small study, far away from the party. Viktor haves his hand dismissively, a smile on his lips.

"I never said I didn't like it," he tries to catch your eye, "quite the contrary, actually." He admits, his own cheeks begin to warm. He feels a little foolish, getting so worked up over a single term, yet he can't deny the warmth in his chest is a nice feeling.

"You do?" You blink, surprised. You were sure he'd scold you- if only to tease you at the very least. Instead he looks earnest in his admission.

"Very much," it's rare to see this side of him, especially outside the comfort of your shared home. "Though I think it would be best to hold off on the 'h'-word for now. I'd like to earn the title properly." You nod, agreeing to his terms.

"Alright- but don't make me wait too long."

"Wouldn't dream of it." He murmurs, taking your hand and pressing a sweet kiss to it. "Now, shall we join the party?"

[crimsonspring]

"What do you think our wedding will be like?" She asks, and Rafayel feels his heart still immediately. He gives it a second, letting the two opposing sides of his heart battle it out.

A part of him feels giddy - she wants to be his bride again. It will happen again, because they are fated mates! All of the worrying was for nothing because look - she wants to get married, bonded to him again! Sure, the "sanctity" of marriage amongst humans on this earth is laughable and ludicrous compared to the solemn oath he literally has embedded on his chest... but he'll take it nonetheless. He'll take anything she has to offer, honestly.

Albeit, the other part of him wants to sulk and throw a tantrum. Because this question is simply yet another reminder of what was left forgotten. The fact that she had already been his bride, but that fact to be so horridly and devastatingly taken away from him. Ripped away from his clutching fingers. Sea of God he may be, but the strength of fate has no competition. What a painful reminder that question is, to be reminded that... Oh yeah you were my bride... until?..

Rafayel doesn't realise that dancing between the two emotions has taken some time. Purple eyes swirling with mixed emotions as his lips pursed to the side in silence. This reaction causes her to shift nervously, afraid that she's made him uncomfortable with the question.

She clears her throat soon after, sitting up after spending hours on the couch with him, slouching against the backrest as his purple hair splays out against her chest. The movement shakes him out of his trance, a brief moment of confusion (and a dramatic look of "how could you!”) plastered on his face as he turns around, sitting up for the first time in 2 hours as well. He faces his blushing partner who is clearly flustered at his lack of response.

"Um.. I mean - I'm not saying we will definitely get married or like whatever, it was just a question! I don't even know if you wanna marry me. again, it was just a question, you don't have to answer it if you-"

He gasps dramatically, brows furrowed deeply as he scoots away from her in bewilderment. "Did you say you don't even know if I want to marry you?" He scoffs, standing up and begins to pace around the room. "Is my devotion - and quite frankly - obvious and constant yearning for you not enough? For you to even question that?"

"Rafayel, I-" "Maybe the hunter's association should put you on bed rest if your brain's not functioning properly. Oh perhaps, it's not the brain, it's your heart and its inability to feel the love I have for you. Is that right, hm?"

"Rafayel," she repeats louder this time, sighing. "That was not what i meant - I just.. You went completely silent on me when I asked the question, so I thought you felt uncomfortable with the topic of marriage." shrugging, the red on her cheeks deepens as a replay of the scene comes to mind. she shrivels into herself, crossing her legs as she begins to play with the loose threads of her sweater. "And I know we’ve never talked about it either, so I shouldn't have just sprung it on you like that."

His face softens immediately, guilt pricking his chest as he watches the vulnerability she was expressing. While she isn't exactly wrong - the topic of marriage does make him uncomfortable. As much as he wants her to be his bride, it’ll undoubtedly open new doors for pain all over again. But as uncomfortable it is, Rafayel knows that she is someone he'd carve his own heart out for (well....).

"You have nothing to apologise for.," He reassures her gently, the tone contrasting the loud rant he performed earlier, and he's back on the couch, crawling onto the space next to her. His fingers are careful, he reminds himself he's holding onto his reason of being, his kryptonite, the atoms of sunlight itself. He feels his stomach flip, and the soft warmth that begins to exude from the side of his chest tells him that if she peeked underneath his shirt, she'd bear witness to the physical embodiment of his sacred vow. "It threw me off guard, yes. But only because i've been keeping it myself for far too long, cutie," he smiles, still ever so gentle as his thumb caresses the smooth of her cheek.

"I’ve known that i have wanted to marry you for years now," and while she'll take that as a mere dramatisation (Rafayel being Rafayel), he means that as literally as it gets. Only he is well versed with the pain, humiliation and fear that comes with the wait and longing, and for a moment, he's almost grateful that she doesn't know. He doesn't want her to be burdened with such hardship-filled emotions, so he'll carry it for the both of them.

"You won't be in white - maybe a light shade of blue. I'll obviously wear the best suit ever to be worn. We'll have a ceremony by the beach," he's speaking straight from the vision he's replayed in his mind countless of times, the smile on his face unconsciously growing as he mindlessly twirls a piece of her hair. "You'll have your hair down, and it'll probably get caught in the sea breeze - but it just makes sense to me."

"and," he pauses for a moment, hesitating before he continues. "We'll say our vows twice. One for everyone to bear witness to, and one just for you and me." A vow so sacred and intimate, Rafayel refuses to share with the world. He refuses to taint it even a little bit, it should simply be meant only for his lover and him, and his pure everlasting love for her.

"Oh," he has rendered her speechless, and now it's Rafayel's turn to be nervous, fearing he has made her uncomfortable. Hiding the embarrassment behind a scoff, he pulls away with a pout. "Y-You were the one who brought it up first!" Immediately, she shakes her head and pulls him back into her chest and Rafayel doesn't fight his body when it relaxes immediately. "I was just a little surprised, Raf - in a good way. Didn't think you would've had all these little details in mind already." Her voice mirrors his previously gentle one, and Rafayel feels his eyes flutter shut, coaxed by her fingers running through his hair.

She hesitates, but braves herself to say it. time and again, once peeling off his layers, she's beared witness to his endless courage so why not walk in his footsteps? "I do hope we get married." Her voice is quieter, but it speaks volumes to him. He feels a lump form in his throat at the emotions that begin to overflow within him. He reaches out to catch onto her hand that's combing through his hair and brings it to his chest in attempts to quell the tears that threaten to form behind his closed lids.

Shakily, his lips whisper against her knuckles, "In my mind, we already are."

In his world, they already were. How lucky is he to get married to her, again and again, and again.

God, he'd do it a million times over.

[lvmimis]

“I just think you’d be happy with us,” Luffy insists for the fifth time that week, and exhausted, you reach over your shoulder, where he’s leaned over, practically resting his chin on your shoulder, and you grip his face, squishing his cheeks. 

He pouts, but doesn’t break free, and you turn to look at him, giving him a frown. Your eyes lock for a few moments as you challenge him to keep speaking, and he, never intimidated by you even for a moment, even when you are trying, continues talking.

“Just think about it more?”

You’ve thought about it, many times in fact, and every time he returns to this neck of the woods since you met just several months ago, a similar conversation arises. The naivete in the idea of you leaving behind everything you’ve built for this pirate you knew nothing about a year ago amazes you, but Luffy has always had such a confidence and almost innocent directness to the way he communicates his desires that you find it harder and harder to not question your own resistance each time. 

This time he’s particularly persistent, possibly to the point of being annoying. You apply a little bit more pressure to the grip you have on his face until his lips jut out and he whines.

“Hey, that hurts you know!” 

You let go, even if you know you could never truly hurt him, and sigh. 

“You know, asking more times won’t change my answer,” you remind him as he makes a show of stretching his face back to normal, then watches you stack a pile of books together and store them away into a cabinet. He’s keeping you company in your workroom as you finish up the last of your notes before leaving the clinic for the day. These days he no longer uses your friendship with Nami as a pretense to come and see you, and no one is sick - instead he strides in like he’s important to you in his own right, and you hate that he’s right about that. 

You wonder who even lets him in these days.

“What would it take aside from asking?”

You look at him again, tilting your head slightly. 

“To change my mind?” you clarify. 

Luffy nods. You’ve started walking, and he follows closely behind, your sweet shadow as you lock up the room and place the key in your pocket, hands behind his head as he accompanies you down the street to your favorite restaurant. 

Since the last time Luffy came to your city, a month has passed, and for the first time, you have admitted to yourself that you genuinely missed him - seeing his smile in an almost empty cup of coffee, or hearing his hearty laugh in a group of friends huddled at a bar, thoughts drifting to what it must be like for him on the sea whenever you have an idle moment.

Always joyous and free, sea salt and sunshine sinking deep into his skin.

Being by his side sounds more enticing every time he brings it up, but he doesn’t need to know that. In fact, perhaps he should think the opposite, you decide.

You stop suddenly in your tracks, and he stops too, watching you carefully as you make your first demand of him. 

“Bring me a pearl and I’ll think about it,” you start. Luffy looks confused for a second, eyebrows furrowed, and crosses one arm over his chest, his other hand tapping his chin. 

“I mean we could go to a jewelry shop right now but I don’t see why-”

Your look into his own eyes is fiery, interrupting him firmly. “As big as my head. The kind you’d only find hundreds of kilometers deep in the Calm Belt.”

The words are meant to be delivered neutrally, but their content is laden with irrationality.

You pause, waiting for his protest, but Luffy doesn’t complain. Instead he’s listening intently, dark eyes just as focused on yours, on the drivel coming from your lips and perhaps on deciphering the unspoken code beneath it.

Code that isn’t I don’t want to go with you, but Why would you go through the trouble for someone as bothersome like me?

Perhaps he picks up on the subtext a bit, too smoothly. “Is that all you want?” he asks, finally.

You inhale sharply, and resume your walk.

“Yes. Unless you bring me one of those, I don’t want to talk about ever leaving with you again, Luffy. Don’t even come back to see me.”

Unfazed, Luffy smiles even though you’ve given him a nigh impossible task - in fact, you’re not sure these giant clams exist at all, and it would be a fool’s errand to search for one, but he laughs. 

“Deal.”

Leaving the matter as it is, you resume your walk, and at some point Luffy must have taken your hand, because by the time you’ve made it to where you’ll have dinner together (and invariably he’ll clean out your wages for the entire week just in meat), your fingers are interlocked as though they’ve belonged linked the entire time. 

—

Luffy leaves the next day, leaving a note that is short and sweet on your kitchen table.

Be back soon.

You figure you’ve possibly seen the last of him in a while and your stomach turns gently at the thought.

—

Three days pass and because your friend Nami hasn’t yelled your ear off by transponder snail, you figure Luffy has dropped the entire ordeal and not wasted his crew’s time by going off track to do something absolutely stupid at your request. 

Another three pass and you worry he is stupid enough to try to do it despite being hated by the sea, and you resist the urge to call it off yourself. 

But you have to trust that he could understand how you felt. 

As impossible as it is for him to do this for you, it’s impossible for you to leave your earthbound life.

—

But ‘impossible’ sits on your nightstand that night.

A perfectly round pearl, as big as your head (bigger even if you were to hold it up and compare the object in a mirror)and polished to an impeccable shine, waits for you, with another note.

You ran out of food. Be back in a moment.

When Luffy comes back, large bags of groceries in hand to restock your empty fridge (even though he’d end up cleaning it out himself that night), he finds you in quiet tears.

Slowly, he lowers himself to the ground, allowing his arms to wrap carefully and gently around your body until you’ve leaned into him fully, your sniffles muffled as you let your face hide pressed against his forearms.

You don’t ask how he did it because the act itself is enough, and he doesn’t speak until you open your mouth first -

- to say “Hi, I missed you,” even if you’re overwhelmed. 

Luffy hums in assent, and lets his face nuzzle into your hair further, the simple act asking you again, please come with me without him needing to say it out loud, even if the pearl he’s moved heaven and earth to bring to your doorstep allows him to.

To which your heart, as though you were being proposed to with this very act, finally says yes.

[earthtooz]

in which: a moment of impulsivity has ratio knocking on your door at 3 am with a grand confession.

There is a great cloud of curiosity that surrounds Dr. Ratio.

His intelligence is far beyond the average person’s comprehension, mind working at insurmountable speeds to reach conclusions and answers that no others have come to before. Mediocrity and Ratio could never stand to be in the same room, intelligence and reputation as an academic preceding him.

When people find out that you have been in a long-term relationship with the scholar, you can almost see the question mark above their heads. How did you meet? When did you start dating? How did you start dating? How do you put up with him? (You always answer that with ‘I’m still trying to find out myself’. He always rolls his eyes when you say that, but it’s nothing a kiss to the cheek can’t solve.) 

Only your closest friends know the story of how you started dating, but it’s always one you love recounting, much to the dismay of Veritas. 

For the decades that he has lived for, there have been few moments he regrets, always critically scrutinising every move six steps before he makes them. No one has ever seen him messy, uncertain, or dishevelled- except you. 

Towards the end of your university years, with an urgent final assignment due soon, you’re rudely awoken one night by frantic knocks on your dorm’s door. You notice the clock reads 3 am, and since the knocks only got louder by the second, you throw your covers off with a groan.

Who could be at your door at 3 am? Perhaps a drunk dormmate who forgot their keys? Or someone knocking thinking it was their room?

Looking through the peephole, you’re stunned to see a certain violet-haired friend on the other side, trouble etched deeply into his features. His hair was messy, falling haphazardly around his face, and his usual accessory of a laurel wreath was discarded, flamboyant outfit discarded for something more comfortable. 

It’s clear that he’s troubled by something, but you have half a mind to leave him outside until he goes away (that’s what he’d do to you, or so you think).

Opening the door, you begin by scolding him. “You better have a good reason to show up at this godforsaken time or otherwise-”

“-I’m in love with you.” 

Perhaps if it were a normal hour of the day, and if you hadn’t just been rudely awaken from your sleep, you would have processed his words faster. Instead, you blink at him once, twice, three times, fatigue weighing heavily on your features as you struggled to keep your eyes open. 

“What?” You murmur, shaking your head as if that would clear up the mental blockage.

“I’m in love with you,” he repeats, firmer this time. 

You grab his wrist and drag him inside your dorm, blinded by the harshness of the hallway lights illuminating the outline of his figure. Turning on the softer light on your desk, you take a seat on the edge of your bed, gazing down at your hands. Veritas, however, stays near your door, annoyingly muscular arms flexed over his chest.

“I have so many questions,” you grumble, rubbing your eyes. “Why are you awake? You’re always asleep by 11 to get your ass up at 6 to exercise, or whatever.” 

“Are you avoiding the main point, or just stupid?” He grabs you by the shoulders and shakes. “I love you.” 

“Excuse me! You were banging bullets on my dorm room, I’m disorientated right now, not stupid- what?”

It’s almost like his statement from earlier only pierces through your brain now with the way you freeze, eyes morphing into something akin to disbelief and shock. He sees all the changes in your expression in the dimness of the room, nervously biting his cheek with every subtle shift.

“Did… I hear that right?” You whisper after what feels like an eternity. “You love me?”

He nods. “For a few years now.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Am I not doing so in this very moment?” 

Tonight has been nothing but agitating for him. First, he was kept awake by the pounding of his heart and the burning desire to see you, significantly delaying his sleep until Veritas decided to cast all caution into the wind, running to your dorm all the way on the other side of the University. Now, he is trying to pour his heart onto your hands, all because of a moment of impulsivity and bull-headed stubbornness, and a secret he cannot keep to himself any longer.

He may be stubborn (as are all geniuses), but Veritas is never impulsive. All truths will come to light eventually, no matter how hard he tries to hide them. 

“While I accept that my feelings may not be reciprocated, can you at least say something rather than stare at me blankly?” There’s an unfamiliar look of concern in his eyes, contrasting the usual pride and arrogance he always wears.

What happened to the Veritas Ratio you know? Who is this man by your feet?

“No- that’s not. I… I love you too, I have for a while now, but everything about this is… just… unbelievable.”

“Why?” 

“You’re aeons out of my league, Veritas. I never once considered you would return my feelings.”

He stifles back a laugh, dropping his large hands off your shoulders and clutching the mattress on either side of you. You won’t forget about the way the sheets crumple beneath his grip, or the way his head hangs, bangs tickling your legs.

Bravely, you raise a hand to his hair, running through it. Seemed like he could use the comfort.

“You make me too damn nervous,” he breathes, a hand coming to clutch at his chest. 

“Never thought I’d live to see the day you admit you get nervous.” 

“Why’s that?”

“The only thing bigger than your brain is your ego.”

His confession, and everything about that night, was unorthodox, never predicting that you’d end the day curled up next to Veritas, or the long relationship that would follow.

© EARTHTOOZ 2024, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[heyimkana]

Husband!Jinwoo tries to guess your favorite positions in bed (with demonstrations 😏)

A deleted/alternate scene from Pillow Talk Part 3 but can be read separately.

Pairing: Sung Jinwoo X Female Reader

Genre: Marriage AU, fluff, smut

Content Warnings: dry humping, choking, hair-pulling, dirty talk

Word Count: 4K

“Do you still have more questions you want to ask me?” Jinwoo says, despite his mind already drifting somewhere else. “If you do, then this is your last chance, Angel. I’m afraid I’m starting to get a little… impatient.”

You wish he could just sever it, that last rope that binds him together. And perhaps you can, he’s handing you the knife to do it, after all. But the second you're tempted to do so, a question pops up in your mind. A question that, if he knows the answer, will bring you even more ecstasy than he’s planning to offer you. 

You draw a breath. “Do you, umm… Do you know what my favorite positions are?”

“Hmm?” Your husband tilts his head slightly to the side, digesting your words with his eyes blinking in surprise. “You mean, sex positions?” His lips break into a coquettish smile when he witnesses your little bashful nod. “I thought you weren’t gonna ask anything naughty, Princess.”

Heat pools fast in your cheeks, but you ignore it. “Three guesses. If you get all of them right—”

“—You’ll let me have my way with you right now.” 

He finishes your sentence for you almost in a growl, his patience hanging by a thread. You cower slightly. “Y-your way?”

“That’s right. My way.” He pushes forward on the bed, still keeping you trapped underneath him. “Any way I want”—he presses his knee firmly against your core—“Anything I want”—his hands begin to wander, one palm skating over your chest and stomach from above your nightgown, dangerously caressing your neck—“However I want.” He seizes your wrists and pins them over your head. His face hovers just above yours, his lips twisting in a titillating smirk. “And you’re just gonna have to be a good girl and take whatever I give you.”

You suddenly feel so small and frail underneath him, perfect to be cuddled and ruined. The hunger in his gaze stirs your insides with excitement. “O-okay. Just… remember that I’m pregnant.”

“Of course, baby,” he chuckles, a delightful melody in your ear. “I’ll be so gentle with you, I promise.” 

There’s a hint of devilry behind his tone that convinces you otherwise. He’s going to be gentle, yes, but if there were a limit on what he could do to you, he’d make sure he’d drive you to that very edge. You swallow thickly. “And if you guess it wrong?”

“That’s impossible,” he nearly scoffs, using one hand to hold both of your wrists together as his other one travels down your body. “I’ll get them right, all three of them. But, for the sake of our conversation, I’ll humor you.” He dips his head down to pepper slow, torturous kisses down your jawline as he speaks. “Let’s see… What does my sweet wife want?” The tip of his sharp nose grazes your pulsating vein, his free hand moving back to the aching spot between your legs. “How about I’ll be your slave for a day?”

You shiver, his mouth feels hot and wet against your clavicle. “You… You’ll do anything I ask you to?”

“Mm-hmm, anything.” His tongue traces the hollow of your collarbone, his fingers lightly stroking over your bare core. “I’ll serve you, do everything you ask. You’ll have me completely at your mercy.” 

Fuck, that sounds so good, so tempting. “That’s quite a huge amount of power you give me,” you titter, the sound coming out a little bit strained as he dips his fingers between your folds, rough digits covered by your slick. 

“That’s the point, love,” he smirks against your skin, gently running his fingers up and down your heat, teasing your hole but never penetrating inside. “I want you to have that power over me”—his mouth explores your ear—“I want to be vulnerable”—your neck—“I want to be weak for you”—the valley of your chest—“And I want you”—he gnaws lightly against the underside of your breast—“to control me.”

You squirm beneath him as he keeps your hands tied together above your head, a shot of pleasure permeating you. “C-control you? Why?”

At your question, Jinwoo stops his ministrations, retracting his fingers from between your thighs before he kisses his way back to your lips. “Because I trust you, Angel,” he whispers. “Because I want to give up control to you, even if just for a moment.” He returns the small proximity between you, capturing your stare. “Because deep down”—he releases his grip from your wrists, his gaze softening, filled with the sincerity of the words he speaks—“I crave to be vulnerable with you, to surrender everything to you. All of me. Body, mind, heart, and soul... Everything.”

Your heart palpitates, thrumming in anticipation. The desire to be used for his pleasure still remains, but the need to take care of him, to give him the love and the attention he craves, consumes you just as strongly. Ever since your daughter arrived, you haven’t really gotten the chance to be with him properly, have you? Your undivided attention is some form of luxury he rarely attains, as you are always so occupied with taking care of your child and keeping the house spotless clean. You’re doing an excellent job as a mother, and there’s not a single fraction of his heart that wishes to complain, but… Sometimes, Jinwoo misses the days when it was only him in your mind. You can see that now.

“I’m sorry,” you quietly say, caressing his cheek. “I was so busy being a mom that I forgot how to be your wife.”

“Sweetheart, that’s not true. You’ve done so well, both as a mother and my wife,” he smiles back, leaning further into your touch. “It’s just… Sometimes I want to be spoiled, that’s all. Teased, even.”

The way he only shows this side of himself to you makes you feel proud of yourself, and beyond thankful. “Right. Cause you’re the real baby in the house,” you giggle. “Well then, baby, go ahead and make your first guess.”

The tenderness in his eyes transforms quickly into mischief. “Your first favorite position is…” Without warning, Jinwoo lifts you and flips you over to your stomach. You land face-first on the pillow before you’re yanked back to your hands and knees, your mouth separated in a startled gasp when he pushes his protruding bulge against your behind. “This,” he finishes, his body leaning forward to whisper it in your ear, his right hand pushing up your gown to expose your lower half to him. You can feel it, the outline of his hardening cock pressing firmly against your ass, separated only by the soft fabric of his sweatpants. 

“You love it when I make love to you from behind.” His grip is tight on your hips, his bare torso hanging just a few inches away from your spine. “When I hug you close just like this”—He lays his chest and stomach onto your backside, embracing you with one hand while he props his weight on the bed with the other—“and my hand slides down between your legs like before”—his calloused palm glides down from your stomach to your aching core—“and I touch you here”—his two fingers find your clit—“right where you want me the most”—he rubs them teasingly against your sensitive bud—“while I fuck you deep and slow”—he grinds his hips against you, torturing you with the sensation of having him so close and yet so far. He captures your earlobe between his teeth, giving it a playful bite, his smirk beyond sinful as he whispers, “Isn’t that right, Sweetheart?”

Seeing how your body tenses up, Jinwoo can tell he’s right. He leans back to enjoy the view, detaching his hand from the bed to drag two fingers from your nape down to your back, slowly following the dip of your spine, watching the way you shiver and arch your back from the touch. He removes his other hand from between your legs, ignoring the little mewls you let out as a sign of protest, and placing both hands on your hips.

“Do you know how beautiful your body looks when I take you from behind?” He rams himself forward, his clothed cock rubbing against your folds, itching to just tear apart the piece of clothing that separates you and push inside till he’s buried deep in your warmth. “When you're on your hands and knees like this, your arms trembling each time I thrust inside?” He lets out a low groan when you start to push back, your body helplessly seeking more friction. “Seeing you from this angle turns me on so fucking much, baby.” 

You can’t bite back the whimper that threatens to spill, the sheets bunched in your hands. “J-Jin—”

He suddenly presses down on the middle of your shoulder blades, driving you down the bed, your face glued to the sheets while he keeps your lower half in the air. “You know how much I love being in control, don’t you, Angel?” His breathing has grown labored, but other than that, he seems to still have his sanity intact, unlike you. Jinwoo keeps you pinned to the bed, his hand gripping your nape from behind. “Seeing you take whatever I give you, your back arching for more, so submissive and obedient for me.” He continues to grind against your behind, moving agonizingly slow on purpose. “And not just that… I could also pull on your hair”—he demonstrates his words, the hand on your nape moving up to grab a fistful of your strands—“And hear you moan louder for me when I do.” 

To prove his point, he tugs on your roots, doing it so suddenly, that it robs a wanton moan out of you. His eyes are suffused with lust, his smile filthy. “That’s right, baby. Just like that.” He gives you another hard thrust, one that you know would’ve driven his cock so deeply inside if there were no barriers between you. He tosses his head back, his bottom lip bitten as he swallows his groan. “Fuck, you’re driving me crazy.” 

Just like him, you can feel your body becoming more and more desperate with each passing second. Fueled by so much desire, you’re starting to whimper out his name, your lower half continuously moving on its own, rubbing yourself against him. 

Jinwoo bends down, laughing softly in your ear. “Careful, love. You’re starting to sound a little needy.”

Needy— That snaps you out of whatever magic that bound you before. Irritation flares inside you, and you break away from him, tossing yourself back to the bed, throwing daggers with your eyes. 

Although startled at first, another cocky smile makes its way onto his face as he looks down at you, watching you look all cute and flustered as you lie on your back with a mean scowl ornamenting your pretty face. “Are you angry?” He chuckles, his hand stroking your thigh. “I’m sorry, honey. I was just kidding.” 

“You say that, but you’re just gonna end up teasing me again.”

“Well, when the opportunity arises, yes.” 

You try to kick that shameless grin away from his face, but he only captures your leg easily with one hand, and press a loving kiss on your ankle. “Hey, come on now, don’t be mad.” He brings himself to you, trying to win your heart with his impish, yet romantic smile, his fingers slipping between yours as he cages your body again. Sweet, playful kisses glaze your collarbones, accompanied by the grin that he tries to repress. “Forgive me, Angel.” 

“Whatever,” you snort. He’s not sorry. “You’re mean.”

“Am I?” Your reaction only amuses him further. “Are you upset because I got it right on the first guess?”

“I’m upset because you’re annoying,” you mutter through gritted teeth, but you can't stop the fire from kissing your cheeks because yes, yes indeed, he got it right, and you’re not sure if you should feel ashamed or impressed. “Don’t act so cocky, Husband. You only got one right out of three.”

He smiles at your insistence, finding your stubbornness both adorable and sexy. He runs his hand down your hip, his fingers tracing patterns over your skin. “You’ve got a point, Wife. That is only one of them, but I can tell I’m going to get the rest right as well.”

“God, I wanna wipe that damn smirk off your face.”

“Feisty,” he simpers, growing even more excited. He’s thoroughly enjoying every second of it, loving every bit of your expression. “Since my princess has grown impatient, let’s finish the game quickly, shall we?”

You roll your eyes, but you await his next move. Confidence, or perhaps arrogance, glints in his eyes as he speaks. “I know you like being in charge, Sweetheart, so for my second guess, I’ll go with…” And just as abruptly as before, he switches position. In one swift action, faster than your eyes can follow, Jinwoo rolls onto his back and sets you down above him. Straddling his lap with your legs spread, you fall forward from the sudden movement, your palms pressed flat against the bed to balance yourself, his head trapped in between. “You on top, riding me,” he finishes, still with his goddamn smirk intact.

Just how the fuck did he get it right again?

Seeing you turn flustered, Jinwoo can tell he’s winning the game, but there’s no mockery in his eyes when he reaches up to tuck your hair behind your ear, his gesture sweet, romantic even. “I have to say, this might be one of my favorites, too,” he tells you, his gaze turning tender. “The way you look at me when you’re above me… The way you roll your hips, your lips parting as you moan out my name… You look so fucking pretty like this, Angel.”

Your heart flutters no matter how much you try to tame the butterflies inside you. You’re excited, and you can tell by the growing bulge beneath you that he is, too, perhaps even so much more. “Jin—”

“It turns you on, too, doesn’t it, being in control?” he cuts you off with a question, his hand traveling down your side. “Which makes me think… Maybe you’re not so submissive, after all.” His palms now rest on your thighs, slowly gliding up your skin. “Do you still remember that night when we celebrated your birthday together? You were terribly drunk, and I was ready to let you sleep for the night, but you insisted on—what did you say back then—unwrapping your birthday gift.” 

You nearly combust into flames, remembering that yes, I did say that, with your husband obviously being the so-called birthday gift. The memory is a little hazy, blurred by all the wine you’d consumed that night, but you can fairly remember how desperate you were back then, how nee— 

“God, you were so needy that night,” he finishes the shameful thought you hate to admit. “Probably the cutest you’d ever been. You pushed me down to the bed, and climbed onto my lap, clawing against my chest to take off my shirt. No matter how much I told you to stop and take some rest, you didn’t listen. You were so… desperate for me.”

Your cheeks sizzle, shame coating your face. “T-that wasn’t me. That was the alcohol.”

“Oh, I don't doubt that, Sweetheart. But it’s not fair if you blame everything on the alcohol. After all, it didn’t put thoughts in your head, it only made you braver.” His devilish grin returns. “The truth was, you’d been wanting to do that to me for a while, hadn’t you? To dominate me in bed?”

Your heartbeat soars. You can’t deny that it’s true. Seeing him in this position, your eyes roaming over his features and his bare chest, makes you recall all those nights when you embraced the bolder side of you, bouncing on his lap without letting your shame take control. It brought you so much satisfaction seeing him like that, with his eyes turning half-lidded from the pleasure you gave him, the muscles in his abdomen contracting with every grind of your hips, his jaw dropping in a silent groan… It always leaves you wanting more.

But that night in particular… Were you even… wilder than usual? “W-what did I do to you exactly?”

The way his lips twitch into a broader smirk—you probably shouldn’t have asked that.

“Let’s rewind the memory, shall we?” Jinwoo captures your hands, detaching them from the bed. “You put your hands right here”—he places them on his naked chest, letting you remember in detail just how lean, and toned, and just absolutely breathtaking his body is—“And you moved your hips like this…” He settles his own hands on your waist, pressing you down harder against him, making sure you feel him, the contour of his cock and how it twitches under your weight, separated only by the soft layer of his sweatpants. He guides you forward, the slight friction of his fabric against your bare folds sending tremors down your thighs. He chuckles at your reaction, the sound low and breathy as he watches you intently, loving how much this affects you, the way it affects him. 

“And you keep grinding on me like this”—he lifts his own hips to answer you, his grip on your hips tightening a bit as he silently commands you to pick up your pace—“Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and”—a moan escapes him when you start to move on your own, his eyes drooping, filled with lust—“forth… Mm, yeah, just like that.”

He lets you move on your own for a bit, reveling in the moment, your wetness staining his pants the same way his own cock is smearing precum from below. He releases a ragged breath, his nails raking down your thighs. “You didn’t care about me that night, about what I liked, what I wanted. You were just moving to your own desire, making sure you rub your clit against me with each roll of your hips, riding me as if my cock was made for you to use as you please. You were so fucking sexy, baby.” 

Amidst the shame that burns you from the inside, you remember how… full you felt that night with his cock throbbing inside you, and now you feel so empty, your heat clenching around nothing.

Jinwoo detects your frustration, but he dismisses it with a cruel smile. He has his own game to play and he’s nowhere near finished.

“I don’t know if you remember this, but”—he takes your dominant hand in his, curling his fingers around your wrist—“in the heat of the moment, you wrap your fingers around my neck”—he swallows in excitement as he brings your hand to his neck—“and you squeeze tight”—he closes your fingers around him, pressing your palm down on his Adam’s apple—“tighter and tighter”—he guides you to do it harder, clamping your fingers firmly around his pipes until you can feel every constrict his throat makes as he chokes out his words—“Until I—ngh—started gasping out your name.” His chuckles turn strained, his cheeks turning a little flushed. “I could see how much it turned you on, and it aroused me, too. To have you do whatever you want with me…” You start adding more pressure on your own, and he almost rolls his eyes back in rapture. “God, I wanna be under your mercy again.”

“You—” Seeing how brazen he is sets you on fire. “I didn’t know you liked being dominated.”

“I don’t, but I love being with you.” Exhilaration flashes in his eyes, his pupils dilated. “I love whatever you do to me, and whatever I do to you. Seeing you act all submissive and obedient for me drives me crazy, baby, but watching how excited you looked from choking me was a treat for the eyes. And it felt good being under your control. Being used as a toy for your pleasure…” He bites the corner of his lip, his hips bucking up to meet yours. “Makes me so goddamn hard just by thinking about it.”

“You’re so—” You don’t bother to continue your words, choosing to let your hips do the talking for you. You start grinding on him faster, your hips rolling, and it feels so dirty and thrilling to do something so obscene without truly touching him. 

Jinwoo adds his thumb to the game, pressing his digit against your clit, giving you the needed friction. You mewl above him, still aching for more. You feel like you’re missing a part of you, and it’s right there, but you can’t have it. This desperation on your face… You looked like this, too, that night, didn't you? And God, he fucking loved it as much as he does now. Something about you rubbing yourself against his clothed cock like an animal in heat awakens something primal inside him. 

“Fuck,” he chuckles darkly, “You’re leaving stains all over my pants, Sweetheart.”

I don’t care, your mind responds, so much that your tongue sits idle in your mouth instead of forming the words out loud. His voice turns subdued in your mind, muffled by the filthy thoughts of you tugging his pants down to his thighs and driving his length inside you.

Should I just do it?

“Not yet, Angel,” he stops you just before your thoughts can turn into actions, his voice sounding just as breathless as he reads your expression. “Don’t beg for my cock just yet. I’ll make it worth the wait, I promise, but for now…” He thrusts up at the same time he pulls you down, your soft moan intermingling with his in the air at the contact. You can almost feel it, feel the way his hardness teases your ring even through the fabric and it feels so good but far from enough. 

Jinwoo’s eyes shimmer with the same thrill. “Let’s drive ourselves insane and see who crumbles first.”

You want to accept the challenge, but at this point, you don’t mind if you lose. Actually, you want to lose, just to get this fucking over with.

You don’t stop, your body moving more frantically above him with each passing second. One grind of your hips hits just right, and clouds of white start to form behind your lids. You can’t believe you’re coming just from dry-humping your husband like a fucking teenager but you are and he senses it. 

Jinwoo sees the way your body trembles, your movements stutter, your muscles tautening before they begin to unwind. Your fingers tighten around his neck as you drown yourself in ecstasy, and it hurts just the way he wants it. Your grip on him loosens as you slowly climb down from your high, your hand sliding back down to his chest to keep yourself steady.

Jinwoo swallows thickly. It was dangerous, so close. Had you continued to rock your hips a few more times, he would’ve reached cloud nine, too. 

He watches you with a soft smile, catching his own breath as his hand gently strokes your thigh. “Felt good?”

You sit on his lap, your chest rising and falling like the tides. You’re spent. “Yeah…”

“You’ve come twice today,” he titters softly. “And I haven’t really done anything yet.”

You don’t care. He can make fun of you all you want, you don’t give a damn. You’re feeling far too good to pay attention to anything.

Jinwoo pushes his upper half off the bed, keeping you on his lap with one hand around your waist as he leans back with his other hand propped behind him. “Take off your gown for me, Sweetheart.”

Still dazed, you answer your puppeteer obediently, reaching down to grip the hem of your nightgown and pull it over your head. You’re only halfway to doing so when he stops you. “Slowly,” he says, his voice sweet but full of command, dripping with desire. “Tease me, Angel. Make me ache for you more. I know you can do it.” With your heart racing a tad faster, you steel yourself and do as he commanded you to, rising to your knees and stripping yourself bare at an agonizing pace, torturing him with every inch of skin you expose. 

Watching you with a flush creeping across your cheeks, your chest still heaving up and down, your eyes staring back at him with a mix of need and love and a little bit of shyness that you once cast away, Jinwoo releases a heavy breath, carving every detail into his memory. He shortens the small distance between you, tangling his strong arms around your waist, skin rubbing against skin.  “Gorgeous.”

You gaze down at him as he looks up at you, your breasts on the same level as his face. “You… You said that position was one of your favorites.” He hums in approval, placing an open-mouth kiss on your chest. You brush his hair away from his eyes, enthralled by the sight. “What’s your number one, then?”

He smiles at your curiosity, and the way your eyes remain hazy even after a moment has passed. “That’s a secret, Sweetheart. You’ll find out what it is if I get the rest of them right.”

You sigh, your impatience returning. You’ve forgotten that he still has one guess left. “Hurry up and hit me with your third guess, then.”

“Your third favorite”—Jinwoo hooks an arm around your waist, lifts you for a split second before he pushes you back to the bed, settling himself between your legs—“is when I have you lying on your back, legs wrapped tight around me. When you can feel me so deep inside you, and I can taste your lips as I fuck you hard and fast.” He can feel you shiver as he says it, your body so responsive, reacting to his words. His fringe falls over his eyes as his face hovers above yours, a smirk playing on his lips. “I was right again, wasn’t I?”

Three times. Out of all the things you’ve done with him, how did he manage to get all of your favorite positions three times in a row? “No, you got it wrong.”

He raises an eyebrow in amused surprise when you say that, seeing through your lies. “Seems like my princess wants to play dirty tonight. Are you that desperate to have me as your slave? Kinda makes me want to lose on purpose.” 

Your plan to wash off the damn smirk backfires as it only persists longer on his face. “I’m not lying!”

“Your body gave you away, Angel. I saw how you reacted before. You liked it.” He grins roguishly. “And even if I guessed it wrong, once I’m done with you tonight,” he presses down on you, his sensual whisper echoing right in your ear. “I’ll make sure it gets on the list.”

You shudder, quickly succumbing to your defeat. “Fine. You win. What now?”

A Cheshire cat’s smile forms on his face as a sense of victory fills him. It’s about damn time you ask him that question.

Jinwoo tugs the strings on your body once more, rolling you to your stomach until you’re pressed flat against the bed. His hips press down against yours from behind, his hand fisting a handful of your hair and he tugs it back, earning himself a low groan. Deprived of your options as you’re being held still, your eyes land on the standing mirror before you, just the way he wants you to. It reflects you perfectly, showcasing how helpless you are beneath him, the pathetic look on your face—so eager to be touched, and the way his gaze turns dark as it meets your own. 

“Now,” Jinwoo whispers in your ear, keeping your eyes locked with his in the mirror as he smirks. “I get to do with you as I please.”

***

A/N: I had to write down the most basic sex positions ever 'cause I know y'all jinwoo girlies are vanilla af LMFAOOO

btw what do you think jinwoo's favorite position is 👀

[morose-melodies]

a story to tell | yandere capitano x reader

summary: the captain appeared at the front of your house, bloodied and offering you a flower.

content warning: size different, mentions of a carcass and mentions of killing.

capitano stood at your front door with a flower in hand.

blood dripping from his mask and onto the snow underneath him.

the majority of his clothes were tainted red, the glove on his right hand slightly torn; you stood behind the door frame, your eyes wide with fear.

"don't look at me with such a fearful expression... am I scaring you?" capitano questioned, and you nodded, "are you hurt?"

"no," he then extended his hand towards you, holding the flower out for you to take.

the flower in his hand was red; perhaps it was his blood, or it was naturally like that. it was a kind gesture, you just couldn't look past all of the blood.

capitano lowered him onto one knee.

his head low as he waited for you to say something, but all you could do was stare, confused as to why a great fatui harbinger was bowing to you.

you hesitantly reached out and took the flower from him, an unsure smile on your face.

you examined the flower in hand, running a finger across the very red petals. you looked back down at capitano who was still kneeling before you and letting curiosity get the best of you, you slowly lowered yourself onto the ground, beside capitano.

"excuse me? what are you doing?" you took a cautious look around, noticing the eyes that watched shamelessly.

this was only your second time meeting the great harbinger. you couldn't understand why he was kneeling to you, or why he was covered in blood or why he had brought you a flower.

you watched him with curious eyes, watching how he breathed slowly, how his eyes never left your own -- you watched him as he watched you.

you reached forward, your hand running across that blood-stained armor of his, lower and lower, until your finger grazed one of his own. you took his hand into yours and stood.

tugging weakly, you urged him to stand with you and that he did.

"... thank you for the flower. do you want to come in?"

"that would be nice," capitano replied, before walking through the front door, he walked down the hallway, leaving a trail of mud behind him.

though you were once holding his hand, it seemed he was holding yours now.

"are you sure you're not hurt? i-i can clean your wounds," you offered, still following behind him as he welcomed himself into your living room and seated himself on your couch.

"I am not hurt. I've come to see you," the captain explained to you, looking at you from his mask, "does that displease you?"

"uhm..." you weren't sure. this was a very odd situation, and he was getting blood on your couch, but this was the harbinger same that took time out of his day to save you from a group of treasure hoarders, "no, it doesn't. I'm just curious..."

"ask me anything, I will answer truthfully," he offered to you, tugging at your hand as if urging you to sit beside him, to be near him.

so, you seated yourself on the couch beside him.

"what happe-"

"I remember the trail to your house so well," he cut you off, answering the question he knew you had for him, "i recall bringing you back after meeting you for the first time. what a lovely home you have," he commented, looking at you.

"you never left my mind, I must confess," it sounded as if he spoke with a small smile, "when passing the very trail to your house, there was danger near. I couldn't allow you to fend for yourself, not when you're such a kind soul."

and so, he explained to you that were was a group of monsters near your home feeding on the carcass of a dead creature. he had killed them to stop them from venturing anywhere further to you.

"and after all, I found that flower and thought of you," his grip on your hand loosened because he knew you were no longer afraid and didn't fear you running off.

though... capitano had told one little lie. it was nothing serious, but he failed to mention that he practically guarded you day in and day out, passing by the trail to your house every house to assure himself of your safety.

why he did this? he wasn't exactly sure himself but he was grateful that he did. who knew what would have happened if he hadn't come to save you.

"well, thank you. thank you so much," you stood from the couch, smiling at him but that smile dimmed a bit when you noticed he was still holding your hand, "uhm, since you're here... would you like some tea? I can make some, you could also clean yourself before you leave..."

the captain smiled to himself, and nodded his head, "that would be nice."

[clockwayswrites]

Birb in the hand Part 8

Birdritch Masterpost

For several reasons, Bruce hadn’t expected to wake up cuddling a stranger. One, there were enough family in the makeshift nest. Two, there had been no stranger, just a strange bird. Three, cuddle pollen or no, Bruce should have been alert as soon as the stranger became a factor.

Instead, Bruce woke slowly, sleep muddle brain confused about why he was awake until he clocked the uneven breathing of the person in his arms. Bruce’s brain went from asleep to alert in an instant as he ordered ‘breath’.

And in that instant Bruce knew that the person in his arms wasn't one of his.

There was a stranger in the Batcave.

A stranger who wasn’t breathing right.

Bruce walked them through answering questions as he took in everything else. Other than Alfred, his family was close. The furthest away was Jason who was asleep on the meeting table rather than in the next with the rest of them. They were starting to wake up, aware something was wrong.

Noticeably missing was the bird entity.

Instead they had a stranger— a stranger who whimpered in pain as Bruce got them upright.

A shapeshifter? An unwilling shapeshifter, possibly. An unwanted transformation could certainly explain the pain.

Dick offered to get a towel and Bruce mouthed a silent ‘thank you’ at his oldest. Bruce was worried by the fact that the breathing hadn’t regulated yet. At least the cold was enough to shock the stranger into a forced breath and Bruce tried to guide them through it.

“There, keep that up,” Bruce instructed.

The stranger pinched Bruce for that. He hardly jolted, but apparently he had moved enough to make Cass giggle at him. A soft huff of a laugh escaped, mostly at Cass’ amusement, but partially at the sass of the stranger.

“I know you know,” Bruce said in response to the pinch. “Now your body just needs to know.”

Bruce didn’t let the second pinch deter him anymore than the first. Gently, he ran a pattern with his thumb up and down the other’s hand, a silent beat to count to. Their hand was calloused. They were someone used to holding tools and using them, but of a precise sort as the rest of the skin was soft. There were a few bandages on the fingers and palms of the hand. Precise tools they were bad with? No, precise tools but either an absent mind or someone who moved too quickly. The wells of their fingernails were stained with bluing and solder and graphite. A specialty machinist of some sort perhaps, watch maker?

“Well, at least it wasn’t an orgy,” the stranger said, suddenly, voice raspy from the panic attack.

Bruce could see Jason trip out of the corner of his eyes from where he was finally getting up off the table.

“Ew,” Tim whined after a beat of stunned silence. “Oh, ew, no, nope, not thinking of that. Where’s the brain bleach? B, tell me the JL has invented brain bleach.”

“Or that thing from Men in Black,” Jason groused.

“No, Reds, the JL does not have brain bleach or ‘that thing from Men in Black’,” Bruce said dryly.

“Wiping a specific memory is actually incredibly hard,” the stranger said. “We’re still learning how all of those pathways connect and that’s even without considering instinct and muscle memory. Now preventing memories for forming, that’s easy. Take me and why I’m even here, no clue, but much harder to erase something that’s already known and perhaps something that could cause a cascade failure… and shutting up now.”

“Are you always like this in the morning?” Jason asked.

“Believe it or not,” the stranger drawled, “waking up in a cave asleep with a bunch of vigilante and no memory of how I got here is not my usually morning.”

Bruce found himself giving a soft chuckle. Normally he would never, but now that the emergency was over apparently his brain was happy to slip back into the morning fog. He did his best to put some Batman gravel into his voice as he spoke. “Once you’ve rinsed off, we will explain. There was cuddle pollen involved, you need to make sure it’s gone so that you are not exposed again.”

“Okay, well, at least cuddle pollen explains some of this,” they grumbled softly. They made a move to lean away from Bruce but stopped short with a hiss of pain.

Bruce moved forward to keep supporting them. “What’s wrong?”

“Just my body being my body. Where’s my bag?”

Cass appeared holding a messenger bag a moment later with a smile.

“Oh, thank you.” Carefully and with Bruce’s support, they leaned forward to take the bag and start searching around in it. “I’m sorry, I don’t know which one you are without the whole getup.”

“B.B.,” Cass chirped. She sat down crosslegged and helped hold the things that the stranger set aside from their bag.

“B.B? Oh, Black Bat,” they said with a little nod and a soft ah-ha as they found what they were looking for. “Thank you B.B.”

Cass gave an acknowledging little noise as the stranger shook a pill out of a small container and knocked it back with a swig from their water bottle.

“Sorry, alright, willing to offer a hand up, B.B?” They asked.

Cass set the items back in the bag, hoped up, and offered her hand. Bruce made sure to support the stranger as they stood, which let Bruce feel the fine tremors that ran through their body and hear the bitten back sounds of pain. Bruce trusted Cass and Dick to help them to the showers and bring a set of clothing to change into. When he turned around, Tim was already poking at the messenger bag.

“Red,” Bruce sighed.

“B,” Tim interrupted and twisted an ID tag clipped on the bag for Bruce to see.

It was a Wayne Enterprises ID badge the color combination of R&D. Danny Fenton, it read, he/him, R&D.

---

AN: take care darlings, take care and be delightful.

[odileeclipse]

In the Presence of Truth {"Sage of Truth" (SMC) x Reader} PT 17

<<<Previous Next>>>

Shadow Milk Cookie blinked, as if surprised by the boldness of your declaration. But then something softened in his expression, the ever-present sharpness in his eyes giving way to something quieter.

"Ah," he mused, tilting his head slightly. "So it would seem."

You let out a small laugh, barely more than an exhale, but still, he noticed. His lips curled ever so slightly...a ghost of a smile, fleeting yet unmistakable. "If I were immortal," you continued, shifting in your seat, "I wouldn’t have the slightest idea what to do with myself."

He hummed in thought. "An eternity of choices can be as paralyzing as having none at all," he admitted. "Some crumble beneath it. Others rise."

"And you?" You found yourself asking before you could second-guess it. "Have you… crumbled or risen?" His expression remained unreadable, but something flickered in his eyes, something deep, something distant.

"I am still here," he said simply. It wasn’t an answer, not really. But maybe it was the only one that mattered. You bit your lip, fingers curling slightly over the edge of your parchment.

Now or never. "Do you… do you know what a Soul Jam is?" His gaze sharpened in an instant. He did not startle easily, but there was a shift in the air, subtle yet unmistakable.

"That," he said, "is not a question many dare to ask." Your throat felt dry, but you pressed on.

"I know you have one. I’ve known for a while, but I-" You hesitated, suddenly acutely aware of how ridiculous this must sound. "I wasn’t brave enough to ask." Silence stretched between you for a long moment, heavy yet not suffocating. He studied you, and for once, you did not shrink under his gaze.

"Knowledge is a burden as much as it is a gift," he finally said. "You must be certain you wish to bear it."

You swallowed. "I am." He considered you for a moment longer before nodding. Slowly, he lifted a hand, and between his fingertips, something shimmered into existence a small, radiant fragment, casting a glow like captured starlight….it came from that mysterious gem…was that it? What gave immortality?.

"The Light of Knowledge," he murmured. "That is what this is called. What I am called." You stared, unable to tear your eyes away. "It’s beautiful." He let out a quiet breath of amusement. "It is what it is." Your mind whirled with questions, but one surfaced before the others. "Are there… others? Like you?"

His fingers closed over the fragment, and the light faded. "There are four others," he admitted. "Mystic Flour, Silent Salt, Burning Spice, and Eternal Sugar."

Your brow furrowed. "Are they… your friends?"

He hesitated. "...We are bound by what we are," he said at last. "That does not always mean we walk the same path." Something in his voice some quiet weight made your chest ache.

"Do you miss them?" He did not answer immediately. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer than you had ever heard it. "One cannot miss what was never truly theirs to keep."

You weren’t sure what you had expected, but it hadn’t been that. "That sounds lonely," you whispered. He looked at you then, something unreadable in his gaze. "Perhaps," he said.

"But not all things are meant to be shared." And yet, you couldn’t help but think, just for a moment, that maybe, he had shared something with you.

Shadow Milk Cookie regarded you for a moment longer before exhaling softly. Then, with a measured grace, he closed his book and rested his hands over it. “If you wish to avoid the evening crowds,” he said, his tone shifting back to something more composed, more certain, “you should head to dinner soon. Your friends will be waiting.”

You blinked, momentarily pulled from the weight of your conversation. “Oh. Right.” You glanced at the dimming sky beyond the arched windows, realizing just how much time had slipped away.

“I almost forgot.” He tilted his head slightly, a knowing look in his eyes. “That much was evident.” You huffed a quiet laugh, but it lacked any real bite. Your mind was still caught in the echoes of his words, in the light that had glowed between his fingers like something too vast to be comprehended. He had given you a glimpse of something sacred, something most would never even think to ask about. And yet, here he was, returning to the present as if he hadn’t just peeled back a veil between the known and the unknown.

As you gathered your things, you hesitated. "Do you-" You stopped yourself before the question could fully form. His sharp eyes flickered with curiosity. “Do I…?” You shook your head, tightening your grip on your parchment.

“Never mind.” For a moment, you thought he might press you for an answer, but he only hummed in amusement. “So mysterious,” he mused. “And yet, you call me enigmatic.” You rolled your eyes, but there was no malice in it.

If anything, it felt lighter than before less like standing at the edge of something vast and unknowable, more like standing beside someone who understood. As you turned to leave, his voice followed you, quiet yet firm. “You should not keep them waiting.” You nodded, stepping toward the door, but before you could take another step, you paused. “Shadow Milk?”

He arched a brow at the sound of his name, an ever-present air of amusement in his expression. “…Thank you,” you said, the words simple but sincere. For a moment, there was only silence. Then, just as you reached the door, his voice came, softer than before. “Enjoy your dinner.” You stepped out into the dimly lit halls, the warmth of his words lingering in your chest. Your friends would be waiting.

You stepped out of the Scholar’s Wing, the cool evening air doing little to ease the warmth lingering in your face. You had seen it…you had seen it.

A dusting of warmth across his ears, brief but unmistakable. Shadow Milk Cookie composed; enigmatic, unreadable Shadow Milk Cookie had blushed. You pressed a hand against your cheek, trying to steady your breath as you made your way toward the dining hall. The weight of his words still clung to you, curling around your thoughts like ink staining parchment. "If it were you… then I suppose… waiting a century would not be such a terrible thing."

You shook your head, trying to clear it. It was just an answer, spoken in jest...wasn’t it? He had turned it on you, after all, as he always did. But that flicker of warmth… the way his ears betrayed him… You bit the inside of your cheek. If you weren’t careful, you were going to overthink this all night. The hum of the dining hall reached your ears as you approached, the familiar scent of warm food breaking you from your thoughts. As expected, your friends were already gathered at your usual table, their trays half-filled with whatever the academy kitchens had deemed edible today. You barely had time to settle into your seat before Chai Latte Cookie leaned in, sharp-eyed and grinning.

“What is that look on your face?” she teased, nudging your arm. “That’s not just an oh, class was interesting today smile. That’s a someone just said something that turned your brain into melted fondue smile.”

You tried...tried to school your expression into something neutral, but the way Chai Latte’s eyes lit up told you that you had already failed. “I don’t have a look,” you muttered, picking up your fork as if your dinner could somehow shield you from her scrutiny. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie arched a brow. “You kind of do.”

Earl Grey Cookie gave a knowing hum. “Indeed.” You groaned, letting your forehead drop onto the table for a moment. “Can I just eat before getting interrogated?”

Chai Latte Cookie giggled, resting her chin on her hand. “I knew something happened,” she sang, leaning a little closer. “Was it the Sage? It was the Sage, wasn’t it?” You stiffened.

Chai Latte gasped, eyes sparkling. “Oh my stars, it was!” You scowled, jabbing your fork at your food with a little too much force. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to,” she mused, utterly delighted. “You’ve got that look, you never get that look.”

Earl Grey Cookie exchanged a glance with Hazelnut Biscotti, a quiet understanding passing between them. Chai Latte, however, was already in full-on gossip mode, and there was no stopping her now. “What did he say?” she pressed, nudging your tray aside as if it was completely unimportant. “Did he compliment your work? Give you some grand scholarly wisdom? Finally confess his undying admiration for you?”

You choked on your drink. “Chai!” She beamed. You glared, but your heart was still unsteady in your chest. Because even if he hadn’t confessed anything, even if it had only been a fleeting moment… You had seen him blush. And that? That was enough to keep you starstruck for the rest of the night.

Chai Latte Cookie leaned in, eyes sparkling with mischief. “So,” she drawled, stirring her tea with a lazy flick of her wrist. “Are you finally going to tell us what’s had you all tied up in knots lately?” You nearly choked on your drink. “I’m not-” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie raised a brow. “You’re not what?”

“Knotted up,” you muttered, avoiding their gazes. Earl Grey Cookie gave you a pointed look. “You’ve been distracted for days.” He adjusted his glasses.

“And given your history of not being forthcoming, I’d wager we’re about to hear something interesting.”

Chai Latte Cookie beamed. “Oh, I love interesting things.”

You sighed, dragging a hand down your face. “Okay, fine. You win.” Chai Latte practically vibrated with excitement.

“We always win.” You inhaled deeply. “It’s about what I told you before. The story I heard in the Ghost City.”

That got their attention. The playful air around the table shifted ever so slightly just enough for you to feel the weight of their curiosity settle in. “The Storyteller’s Circle,” Earl Grey Cookie murmured, recalling the night with ease.

You nodded. “The one about the lovers who could only meet every hundred years.” Your fingers traced the rim of your cup as you spoke. “I told the Sage of Truth about it.”

Hazelnut Biscotti’s gaze sharpened. “And?” You hesitated, the words heavy on your tongue. But there was no stopping now. So you told them. You told them how Shadow Milk Cookie had listened, the way his golden eyes had flickered with something unreadable as you spoke. How he had gone quiet, not in dismissal, but in deep thought. How, for once, you felt like you had given him something to ponder. And then you told them what he had said. "If it were you… then I suppose… waiting a century would not be such a terrible thing." The silence that followed was immediate. Heavy. Chai Latte Cookie’s lips parted, but no words came out. That was how you knew you had actually stunned her into speechlessness. Hazelnut Biscotti let out a low, impressed whistle.

Earl Grey Cookie merely blinked, but his silence was just as telling. Then, Chai Latte exploded. “Oh, stars above!” She all but launched forward, gripping your arm. “He said that?!” You squirmed under her intense gaze. “It wasn't it’s not...”

Hazelnut Biscotti smirked. “Don’t even try to downplay it. That wasn’t just some offhand remark.”

Earl Grey Cookie hummed. “It was deliberate.”

You swallowed hard. “I know.” 

Chai Latte Cookie released you only to clasp her hands over her heart dramatically. “Imagine waiting a hundred years just to see someone again,” she sighed, echoing her own words from that night. Then she snapped upright, eyes locking onto yours.

“That’s romantic!” You felt your face heat. “It’s not-”

“It is,” Hazelnut Biscotti interrupted, grinning. “And you know it.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Okay, but he-he turned it around on me! He asked if I was testing his patience or trying to ‘unravel the heart of the Sage of Truth.’”

Chai Latte gasped. “And what did you say?” Your ears burned. “I told him I wouldn’t keep him waiting.” The silence that followed was deafening. Earl Grey Cookie exhaled slowly.

“I see.” Hazelnut Biscotti raised a brow. “And what did he say to that?” Your heart pounded just thinking about it.

“He just… looked at me.” You swallowed. “And then he said, who indeed?” Chai Latte Cookie slammed her hands on the table.

“I’M GOING TO SCREAM.”

You groaned. “Don’t!”

Hazelnut Biscotti let out an amused chuckle, but his eyes were sharp. “That’s not nothing.” Earl Grey Cookie nodded. “That’s a man who doesn’t waste words.”

You shifted uncomfortably. “I know.” Chai Latte Cookie gripped your hands, her gaze searching yours.

“And you...how do you feel about it?” You froze. Hazelnut Biscotti and Earl Grey Cookie both went silent, watching you carefully. Your heart hammered in your chest. How did you feel? You thought about the way his voice softened when he spoke to you, the way his golden eyes lingered just a fraction longer than necessary. The way his words always challenged you but never dismissed you. How, when he looked at you, it wasn’t just as the Sage of Truth. It was as Shadow Milk Cookie. Your throat tightened.

Chai Latte Cookie squeezed your hands gently. “Hey,” she murmured, quieter this time. “You can say it.” You inhaled sharply. And then, barely above a whisper “…Maybe my heart does beat for him. Not just as the Sage of Truth.” You swallowed, voice trembling as you admitted finally, finally “But as Shadow Milk Cookie.” For a moment, no one spoke.

Then Chai Latte Cookie let out a quiet, breathless laugh. One of understanding. Hazelnut Biscotti smiled, almost knowingly. Earl Grey Cookie adjusted his glasses, a satisfied gleam in his eyes. “Well then,” Chai Latte murmured, her voice filled with something warm, something fond. “I think you might be in trouble.”

You stared into your cup, watching the way the liquid rippled as your fingers trembled against the ceramic. It felt as though the weight of your own words was still settling over you, the truth finally spoken aloud yet leaving you with an entirely new set of uncertainties. Because now that you had admitted it to yourself, to them, there was another question lingering, one that twisted deep in your chest, coiling tighter with each passing second.

Would he...could he ever feel the same? Your breath hitched. The thought alone sent a shiver down your spine. Shadow Milk Cookie was… immortal. The Sage of Truth. A beacon of knowledge and wisdom, untethered by time in the way you were. He was beyond mere admiration, beyond simple affection. And you what were you to him, truly? A passing curiosity? A fleeting source of entertainment? A scholar fumbling at his feet, desperate to understand the vastness of the world he had already grasped long ago? Doubt gnawed at you.

“What if…” Your voice came out hoarse, uncertain. “What if it doesn’t matter how I feel?”

Chai Latte Cookie’s brows knitted together. “What?”

You swallowed. “He’s immortal,” you whispered. “And I’m just-” You gestured vaguely to yourself. “He’ll live through centuries. I’m nothing but a brief moment to him.” Earl Grey Cookie exhaled sharply through his nose, his gaze flickering toward Hazelnut Biscotti, who frowned but said nothing.

Chai Latte Cookie, however, did not let go of your hands. Instead, she squeezed them tighter. “You don’t know that,” she said softly. “Not for sure.”

You let out a hollow laugh. “Don’t I?” Your mind spiraled, recalling every conversation, every moment you had spent with him.

“You said it yourselves he doesn’t waste words. And he’s patient. Incredibly patient. He has all the time in the world to humor a struggling scholar like me. But when that time runs out” Your voice wavered, but you forced yourself to say it. “When I’m gone, he’ll still be here. He’ll keep seeking truth, keep moving forward, just as he always has.” The words tasted bitter. “And one day, I’ll just be… another story.” A soft exhale.

Chai Latte Cookie’s hands tightened around yours. Hazelnut Biscotti’s voice was low, steady. “Are you afraid of being forgotten?”

You hesitated. “Not forgotten,” you murmured. “Just… insignificant.” Chai Latte Cookie’s expression twisted hurt, as if she could feel the ache in your chest as her own.

Hazelnut Biscotti hummed thoughtfully. “Funny,” he mused, resting his chin against his palm. “That’s not the impression I got from him at all.”

You blinked. “What?”

Earl Grey Cookie nodded, adjusting his glasses. “We told you already. He’s deliberate. And if he didn’t care. if he saw you as just another fleeting moment, he would not entertain the idea of waiting a century. For you.”

Chai Latte Cookie tilted her head. “I mean, think about it.” Her voice was softer now, more careful. “He didn’t have to say that. He didn’t have to answer that way at all.”

Hazelnut Biscotti smirked. “And yet, he did.”

Your breath stilled. “But,” you rasped, “he did turn it around on me. He asked if I was trying to unravel him. What if I am just a curiosity to him? A scholar to test, an equation to solve?”

Chai Latte Cookie exhaled. “Then ask him,” she said simply.

You flinched. “What?”

“Ask him,” she repeated, searching your gaze. “If you’re so afraid of being insignificant of being nothing more than a passing thought ask him.” Your pulse pounded in your ears. “Talk to him,”

Earl Grey Cookie agreed. “He is not a man who plays games with his words. If he does not mean something, he will make it clear.” Hazelnut Biscotti grinned.

“And if he does mean it?” You asked meekly.

He leaned back, crossing his arms. “Well. I suppose you’ll have your answer then, won’t you?”

Your stomach twisted. Could you really do that? Could you really stand before the Sage of Truth, before Shadow Milk Cookie and ask him outright what you meant to him? You weren’t sure. But one thing was certain. You had to know. Chai Latte Cookie, ever the observant friend, must have noticed the way your expression had faltered; the way your fingers had tensed around your cup, the way doubt had taken root in your heart despite their reassurances. She sighed, shaking her head, before nudging your arm playfully.

“Oh, don’t look so gloomy,” she chided, though her voice carried none of its usual mischief.

“I knew we shouldn’t have let you stew on all that nonsense from yesterday.”

You blinked. “What?” Chai Latte pursed her lips before exhaling, her teasing demeanor slipping into something softer. “Listen, I was the one who said all those things about immortality and how fleeting our lives are, but that was just to ground you, not discourage you.”

She poked your forehead lightly, as if trying to knock some sense into you. “I didn’t mean to make you think you didn’t have a chance.” You opened your mouth, but no words came out. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie smirked.

“Told you they’d come around.” Earl Grey Cookie adjusted his glasses. “It was never about whether or not you should feel this way,” he added. “Only about making sure you understood the weight of it.”

Chai Latte Cookie nodded. “And for that, I am sorry,” she admitted, offering you a sheepish smile. “But let me tell you something, okay?” She leaned in, eyes twinkling. “Even an immortal like him one so patient, so distant, so wrapped in his eternal search for truth at some point, he would have to fall, too.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Chai Latte tilted her head, watching you carefully. “You make him think, you challenge him in ways he doesn’t expect. And maybe that’s new for him. Maybe that’s different.”

She grinned. “And different is dangerous. Even for him.”

Hazelnut Biscotti chuckled. “Especially for him.”

Earl Grey simply hummed in agreement. Your heart pounded. The thought of it the idea that Shadow Milk Cookie was not as untouchable as you had thought, that even he might not be immune to the emotions that tangled so messily within you, sent your mind reeling. Could it be true? Could he truly? You swallowed hard. “Then I’ll ask, I don’t know when…but I’ll ask” you murmured, more to yourself than to them. Chai Latte’s eyes softened. “Good,” she whispered. “You deserve to know.”

The night wrapped around you like a silken cocoon, dreams slipping in and out of reach like the ebb and flow of the astral river beyond the Academy’s grand halls. Yet even in sleep, your thoughts tangled with golden eyes and words spun in careful riddles who indeed? By the time morning arrived, light spilled through your window, golden and unrelenting. You blinked blearily at the ceiling, heart still caught somewhere between waking and the memory of yesterday’s conversation. Even an immortal like him would have to fall someday. Your friends had a way of speaking truths you hadn’t dared voice aloud. But today was not for lingering in thought. Today was for routine. The moment you realized the time, panic surged through you.

Tearing yourself from the warmth of your blankets, you rushed through your morning preparations with the urgency of someone narrowly escaping disaster.

The halls of Blueberry Yogurt Academy were already alive with the quiet hum of morning conversation, the faint scent of parchment and ink lingering in the air.

Your stomach, however, had only one thought in mind. By the time you skidded into the dining hall, slightly breathless, your eyes immediately landed on the familiar sight of honey-drizzled waffles and freshly cut pineapple, golden in the morning light. Your favorite. For once, fortune favored you.

Balancing your tray with careful precision, you wove through the throngs of students before settling into your usual seat beside your friends. The conversation at the table was already flowing, words slipping past you in a comfortable rhythm as you eagerly took your first bite, the familiar sweetness grounding you.

And then you heard words you wish you could unhear. “…Professor Almond Cookie’s exam next week,” Earl Grey Cookie was saying, his tone casual, as if the very sentence did not send your mind into immediate ruin. The world froze. Your fork halted midway to your mouth.

Your stomach turned cold. “…What exam?” The words left your lips in a breathless whisper, barely audible over the morning chatter. Chai Latte Cookie, mid-sip of her tea, nearly choked. She set her cup down with exaggerated care, blinking at you.

“Please, please tell me you’re joking.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie raised a brow. “You did study for it, right?” Your mind was a blank slate. A vast, unforgiving void where surely there should have been notes, recollections, some indication that you had not simply walked into impending doom. But there was nothing. Not a single page of memory turned in your favor.

Perhaps it was the anxiety…Earl Grey Cookie regarded you with his usual, piercing stare. “Don’t tell me you” Your head hit the table with a dull thud. “I forgot.” Chai Latte let out a long, suffering sigh. “Oh, honey.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie chuckled, shaking his head. “This is going to be fun.” Fun. Fun was not the word you would have chosen. The waffles had never tasted so bittersweet.

You groaned into the wooden table, muffling a barely restrained why does the universe hate me? against its surface. Chai Latte Cookie patted your back, equal parts sympathy and amusement in her touch. “Hey, at least you remembered now instead of the night before the exam.” That wasn’t exactly comforting. Lifting your head just enough to peek at them, you croaked out, “What’s it even on?”

Earl Grey Cookie adjusted his glasses, ever the diligent scholar. “Professor Almond Cookie mentioned it multiple times,” he said, though there was no true malice in his tone, just that sharp, perceptive edge of his. “It’s covering everything from our last three lectures: the fundamental applications of enchanted sigils, the properties of shifting hexes, and the historical cases of spell miscalculations leading to catastrophic failures.”

Your stomach dropped. You had definitely not studied for that. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie whistled. “Oof. Yeah, you might want to start reviewing immediately.” Chai Latte Cookie nodded sagely. “Good thing you have your standing appointment with the Sage of Truth.”

You groaned again. “Don’t remind me.”

“Oh, I will,” she said, smirking over her tea. “And so will he when you show up looking like you’ve forgotten what words are.”

Hazelnut Biscotti grinned. “Do you think he already knows you forgot? Maybe he foresaw this exact moment and is just waiting to see how you’ll react.”

You shot him a glare. “Not helping.”

Earl Grey Cookie hummed, tapping his fingers against his book. “Regardless, you should use your time wisely. That exam is extensive, and you’ll need a structured review plan if you want to pass.” Your fingers curled around your cup, mind already racing ahead. Shadow Milk Cookie would definitely help. You already had an established time to meet, after all. But the thought of admitting yet another failure in the presence of him…You exhaled, steadying yourself. There was no avoiding it. If you wanted to stand a chance, you needed his guidance. Even if it meant unraveling yourself before the Sage of Truth once more. Getting to lecture felt like impending doom you took your breakfast with you. The only anecdote to get you through the morning.

Professor Almond Custard Cookie’s lecture had already begun, but you were still lost in the remnants of your breakfast. The honey-drizzled waffles melted on your tongue with just the right balance of sweetness, the crisp edges giving way to the warm, soft center. And the pineapple perfectly ripe, bursting with a tangy sweetness had been a gift from the heavens themselves. You weren’t about to let such a rare treat go to waste. So there you sat, half-tuned into the lecture, half-devoted to savoring every last bite.

“now, let’s review the foundational principles behind sigil layering,” Professor Almond Custard droned, pacing at the front of the hall. The familiar scratch of quills against parchment surrounded you, your classmates diligently taking notes as the professor gestured toward a series of complex sigils drawn across the enchanted blackboard.

“These are fundamental to understanding the structure of shifting hexes, and thus will be a focal point in next week’s exam.” You nearly choked on your last bite of waffle. The exam. You knew about it now, of course but that didn’t mean you were prepared. Swallowing hastily, you cast a panicked glance toward your friends. Chai Latte Cookie, seated beside you, sipped her tea with the air of someone entirely unbothered.

When she caught your expression, she raised a brow, lips curving into an all-too-knowing smirk. Earl Grey Cookie and Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie, sitting just ahead, were already scribbling notes, perfectly composed. Earl Grey, ever perceptive, didn’t even need to look to know you were struggling. “You should be writing this down,” he murmured, just loud enough for you to hear. You fumbled for your quill. Right. Professor Almond Custard continued, his voice steady and practiced. “Now, who can explain why improper sigil placement in hexes leads to instability?”

A few hands went up. You shoved the last piece of pineapple into your mouth, hurriedly swallowing as you tried to force your mind to focus. You had an appointment with Shadow Milk Cookie later. You would fix this. You’d ask him to go over everything sigils, hexes, historical catastrophes. You would prepare. But for now…You needed to at least pretend you knew what was going on.

The moment your eyes landed on the sigils scrawled across the blackboard, everything clicked into place. The elegant curves, the precise intersections, the delicate but deliberate layering it was all familiar to you now. You had spent hours under Shadow Milk Cookie’s careful instruction, tracing these very symbols beneath the warm glow of candlelight, his voice a steady guide through the labyrinth of knowledge. Preparation alone wasn’t enough, of course.

Knowledge required application, understanding beyond rote memorization. But as the professor continued his explanation, you found yourself keeping pace. The connections formed naturally, like puzzle pieces slotting into place. You exhaled, steadying yourself. You knew this. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie turned slightly, as if checking on you. When he saw the recognition in your gaze, he gave a small nod of approval before refocusing on his notes. Chai Latte Cookie, ever observant, smirked knowingly beside you. She nudged your arm just enough to make you roll your eyes.

"See?" she murmured under her breath. "Told you he makes a difference." You said nothing, but the warmth in your chest spoke volumes. Still, one thing was certain no amount of familiarity with the material would change the fact that you needed to prove your understanding. And that meant making the most of your session with Shadow Milk Cookie later. You had no intention of disappointing him.

You would not-could not disappoint him. Not after yesterday. Not after his words, his unwavering belief in you, his golden eyes watching you not just as a scholar, but as you. The weight of his voice still echoed in your mind, the way he had considered your words so carefully before offering his own. "If it were you… then I suppose… waiting a century would not be such a terrible thing."

A century. A hundred years. An eternity compressed into something so simple, so effortless, as if time itself could bend beneath the weight of a promise unspoken. Your heart tightened, but not in fear. No, this was something else. Something warmer. Something that burned, pushing you forward, making you want to be better not just for yourself, but for the one who had come to guide you.

You kept your focus locked on Professor Almond Custard’s lecture, barely sparing a glance at your half-eaten honey-drizzled waffles and pineapple slices. Normally, the sweetness would have held your attention, but now the symbols before you demanded your full awareness. Sigils layered in meticulous arrays sprawled across the board, shifting in meaning with every line the professor added. Some students furrowed their brows, their quills scratching hastily against parchment as they tried to keep up.

But you? You could see it now. Each stroke, each arrangement it made sense. Not long ago, this level of understanding would have felt out of reach, the logic slipping through your fingers no matter how hard you tried to grasp it. But today, the pieces fit together seamlessly, as if something deep within you had finally unlocked.

Shadow Milk Cookie had been right. The realization filled you with a quiet sort of pride, the kind that settled deep in your bones rather than bursting to the surface. You straightened in your seat, your notes no longer frantic but measured, deliberate. You were going to prove yourself.

Even so, preparation was not enough. If you wanted to truly master this, if you wanted to stand before Professor Almond Custard’s exam next week with certainty, you needed more time. More refinement. More of him. The thought cemented itself before you even finished considering it. You would have to skip lab today. The decision wasn’t made lightly. You valued your grades, and while lab sections were important, they were not weighted nearly as much as the main course. You could afford to drop your lowest lab score, but you couldn’t afford to let your overall comprehension suffer. Not when you had the opportunity to sharpen your understanding under Shadow Milk Cookie’s guidance.

But that meant one thing, apologizing to Chai Latte Cookie. The moment the lecture concluded, you turned toward her, already wincing. "Chai, I"

She held up a hand, already grinning. “You’re skipping lab to go study with the Sage, aren’t you?”

You groaned. “I hate how well you know me.”

She laughed, waving off your concern. “Please, I knew the moment you actually paid attention today instead of zoning out that you were going to pull something like this.”

You sighed. “I am sorry, though. I know we had a system...” Chai Latte Cookie linked her arm through yours with an exaggerated sigh. “Oh, woe is me, abandoned by my beloved lab partner in my time of need.”

Then, she winked. “Don’t worry, I can handle it. I’ll tell Professor Star Anise you got sick.”

Guilt tugged at you. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” she said without hesitation. “Besides, let’s be real you’re way more stressed about that exam than the lab. And if studying with him makes you feel like you can handle it, then go.”

You exhaled, relief washing over you. “Thank you, Chai. Seriously.” She nudged your side playfully. “Just make sure you don’t get too distracted.”

Heat bloomed across your cheeks. “Chai!” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie, who had been gathering his materials nearby, snorted. “She’s not wrong, though.” You buried your face in your hands. “Not helping.”

Earl Grey Cookie, ever composed, merely adjusted his glasses. “If anything, it’s a practical choice. The Sage of Truth is an invaluable resource.”

He paused, then added, “But Chai does make a fair point. Try to keep your thoughts academic.” You groaned, swiping up your books before your friends could torment you any further.

“I am studying, I’ll have you know.”

Chai Latte Cookie grinned, tilting her head. “Oh, of course you are.” With one last sigh, you turned to leave, the weight of their knowing glances trailing after you.

But even their teasing couldn’t overshadow the anticipation building in your chest. Afternoon would come soon enough. And he would be waiting. The Scholar’s Wing loomed before you, its towering spires and arched windows casting long shadows across the courtyard. You had never rushed here like this before...never felt this level of urgency gnawing at your ribs, making every step feel both too fast and not fast enough.

You were early. Far too early. You knew it. You had actively chosen to be early, skipping your lab section entirely. Chai Latte Cookie had understood, even encouraged it, but that didn’t stop the lingering guilt from creeping up your spine. Still, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were making the right choice. That this mattered more. That he mattered more.

No, not like that. You shook your head, trying to dispel the thought before it could take root. It wasn’t about him. It was about the exam. About needing to prepare. About not wanting to disappoint the one scholar in this academy whose respect you had begun to crave. …And yet, your feet carried you just a little too quickly to his door. Your heart, beat a little too fast for this to be just about studying. You inhaled sharply, pressed your hands against the heavy wooden door, and stepped inside. The scent of parchment, aged ink, and a faint trace of something celestial greeted you like moonlight and old libraries. And there, seated at his desk, was him. Shadow Milk Cookie glanced up, golden eyes flickering with recognition then mild surprise. He wasn’t expecting you. He shouldn’t have been expecting you.

His brows lifted ever so slightly. “You’re early.” There was something pointed in his tone, not unkind, but certainly knowing. His gaze flickered toward the enchanted hourglass on his desk. “You should be in lab right now.”

You swallowed hard, shifting on your feet. You had known this would come up, and yet, under his piercing gaze, it was somehow ten times harder to explain yourself. Still, you squared your shoulders and met his gaze. His brilliant, knowing, endlessly patient gaze.

“I need your help more than the lab.” A beat of silence passed. Then another. Shadow Milk Cookie studied you, his golden eyes sharp yet unreadable, as if weighing the truth of your words. Then, with a quiet sigh, he set down his quill and leaned back ever so slightly in his chair.

“Very well,” he murmured, amusement ghosting the edge of his voice. “You have my undivided attention. Now,” his eyes gleamed with something unreadable, something that made your stomach twist “tell me everything.” You exhaled slowly, trying to steady the anxious energy thrumming beneath your skin. Shadow Milk Cookie’s golden eyes watched you. Calm, steady, waiting. His patience was endless, yet somehow, that only made it harder to find the words.

You clenched your hands at your sides, then finally admitted, “It’s about Professor Almond Custard’s exam.” You hesitated, heart pounding, before adding, “I’ve been coming to your tutoring sessions. I’ve been paying attention. I’ve done the readings, the exercises you’ve seen me do them.” You exhaled sharply. “But I’m still worried I won’t do well.”

His expression didn’t change no pity, no irritation, only quiet understanding. His hands folded over the open pages of his research tome, and when he spoke, his voice was as composed and deliberate as ever. “You doubt yourself.” It wasn’t a question.

You swallowed. “I just” Your fingers curled into fists, frustration creeping into your voice. “I know I’ve improved. I feel like I’ve improved. But what if it’s not enough? What if I think I understand everything, but when the exam comes, my mind just-just shuts down?” Shadow Milk Cookie studied you in silence for a moment, as if carefully unraveling each layer of your doubt.

Then, slowly, he gestured to the chair across from him. “Sit.” You hesitated only a moment before obeying, settling into the chair and setting your bag on your lap. He rested his elbow on his desk, fingers poised lightly against his cheek, watching you with that same unreadable gaze. “Show me,” he said simply. Your brows furrowed. “Show you…?”

“Your notes. Your understanding. Show me what you have learned.” Right. Of course. You fumbled with your bag, pulling out your notebook and flipping to the most recent pages, filled with meticulously copied sigils, dense theories, and rewritten formulas.

The ink was smudged in places where you had rewritten sections too many times, where frustration had nearly won, where self-doubt had whispered that none of it would stick. Shadow Milk Cookie took the notebook with careful hands, his fingers barely grazing the edges of the parchment. His gaze flickered over the pages, absorbing every word, every correction, every hastily scrawled margin note. For a long moment, he said nothing.

Then, finally “This is good.” The words were so unexpected, so decisive, that your breath hitched. You blinked at him, mouth opening slightly, but no sound came out. He turned a page. “Your sigil work is precise. Your understanding of transmutation is solid. Even your margin notes show an active engagement with the material.” He tapped a section where you had underlined a key theorem three times. “This is not the work of someone who has learned nothing.”

Heat crept up your neck. “But what if” He lifted a hand ever so slightly, a silent request for pause. You clamped your mouth shut. His golden eyes met yours. “You say you understand these concepts in tutoring. You apply them correctly here, in your notes. And yet, you fear they will abandon you in the moment of the exam.”

You swallowed, nodding stiffly. His gaze softened. “You have come far. You know that, do you not?”

You hesitated. “I… I do.” “You are not here because you lack understanding.” His voice was gentle, but certain. “You are here because you fear that understanding will not be enough.”

Your throat tightened. “…Yes.” Shadow Milk Cookie set the notebook down and laced his fingers together, his expression unreadable for a moment.

Then, he let out a quiet hum. “Then let us put your fear to rest.” You blinked. “What?” His lips quirked upward, just slightly. “You came early, seeking more time to prepare.” He gestured to the notebook. “So we shall prepare.” Something in your chest loosened, just a little.

You nodded, more eager than you expected to be. “Okay.”

He leaned forward slightly, his presence calm, assured unshakable. “We will begin with transmutation theory. Walk me through the process, as you would in the exam.” You inhaled deeply, flipping to the appropriate page in your notes. You can do this. Because this time, you weren’t alone. You took a steadying breath, letting the familiar symbols and words in your notes ground you. Shadow Milk Cookie remained silent, watching with that ever-patient gaze, his hands still folded before him as if he had all the time in the world. It was reassuring and terrifying all at once.

Start simple. Build from there. “Okay,” you began, fingers tracing the inked lines on the parchment. “Transmutation theory. The fundamental principle is the conversion of one form of magic into another an alteration, not creation. That’s the first distinction. You can’t make something from nothing. There has to be an initial essence to manipulate.”

He gave a slow nod. “And the primary laws governing this?” You swallowed, flipping back to an earlier section in your notes where the core tenets of transmutation were outlined. “Right. There are three foundational laws: the Law of Equivalence, the Law of Conservation, and the Law of Stability.”

You tapped the first one. “The Law of Equivalence states that the magical properties of the original substance must match or be proportionate to the intended outcome. If they don’t, the transmutation fails or worse, backfires.”

Shadow Milk Cookie hummed in approval. “And the Law of Conservation?”

You nodded, growing more confident. “Magic doesn’t vanish it shifts. The amount of energy present before the transmutation must equal the amount after. If there’s excess energy, it needs to be redirected somewhere, or else it destabilizes the process.” His golden gaze flickered with something unreadable. “And if too much energy is lost?”

“The transmutation weakens or fails entirely.” You exhaled sharply. “Which ties into the Law of Stability. Any transmutation must be performed within a stable magical field, or external interference, whether intentional or environmental, can disrupt the process.”

Shadow Milk Cookie tilted his head ever so slightly, the hint of a smile playing at his lips. “Good.”

Your breath caught. Good. He didn’t often say that. Normally, he made you prove it. Testing, challenging, guiding you to the right answer only when you’d struggled long enough to earn it. But this time, he accepted your answer without further questioning, without the usual probing remarks meant to push you further. Because of yesterday. Because of that moment his words, your words, the shift in the air between you. You swallowed, pushing forward before your thoughts could spiral.

“Applying these laws, transmutation can be classified into structured and unstructured forms. Structured transmutation follows predetermined matrices, sigils, arrays, written formulas; whereas unstructured relies purely on raw magical control and adaptability.”

Shadow Milk Cookie nodded. “And which is more volatile?” “Unstructured,” you answered without hesitation. “Since it lacks an anchor, it requires immense focus and magical control to maintain stability. Structured transmutation is more rigid but far safer.”

He let the answer settle before prompting, “And which does Professor Almond Custard favor?”

You hesitated. “…Unstructured.” His brows raised ever so slightly. You groaned. “Which is so unfair. Because we’ve only been doing structured transmutation in class. Why even give us matrices to practice if he’s going to expect us to-”

“A test of adaptability,” Shadow Milk Cookie interrupted smoothly, his voice calm in contrast to your growing frustration.

“Knowledge is valuable, but so is application.”

You sighed. “I know. I just wish it wasn’t something that could literally backfire if I mess it up.”

His gaze softened, not in amusement, not in challenge, but in something quieter, something reassuring. “Then let us ensure you do not.” The tension in your shoulders eased just a little.

You nodded. “Right. Okay.” You flipped to the next section in your notes, running a finger along the lines of dense writing. “Then there’s dynamic elemental interplay. When transmutation involves shifting one element into another. The closer two elements are on the magical spectrum, the easier the transition. The further apart, the more energy it takes.”

He gestured for you to continue. “For example,” you said, “changing water to ice is relatively simple because they’re closely related. But changing fire to water is significantly harder because you’re dealing with opposing natures.” Shadow Milk Cookie inclined his head. “And how does one mitigate the instability of such a transmutation?” You hesitated, running through what you knew before carefully answering, “By either introducing a stabilizing agent like an intermediary element or by reinforcing the magical field to reduce external interference.”

The corner of his lips quirked up not quite a smile, but something close. “You are well-prepared.” There it was again. The validation, unprompted, freely given.

Your heart stuttered in your chest. You stared at him, thrown for a moment. “I-I mean, I think so?” His golden eyes held yours, steady and certain. “I do not say things without reason.” Your throat tightened. The weight of his words, the certainty of them, settled over you like warmth against the ever-present chill of doubt.

Slowly, he closed your notebook, his fingers lingering briefly on the worn parchment. “You know these theories. You have studied them well. Your fear is not of failure, but of your own doubt.”

You lowered your gaze, pressing your lips together.

“I just… I don’t want to disappoint-” You cut yourself off, the words catching in your throat. Disappoint who? Your professor? Yourself? Or the one sitting before you now, the one whose praise so rare, so measured had somehow become something you craved? Shadow Milk Cookie’s voice was softer when he spoke again.

“You will not.” You swallowed hard, looking up at him. He held your gaze for a long moment before nodding toward your notes. “Shall we continue?” You inhaled deeply. Then, steadier this time “Yes.” The study session stretched on, the rhythmic back-and-forth between you and Shadow Milk Cookie settling into a steady flow. He posed questions, sometimes leading, sometimes deliberately vague, testing how far you could reach before he guided you toward the right answer. When you faltered, he gave you just enough space to find your footing again.

You weren’t sure when exactly it happened, but the frustration that had knotted your shoulders at the start had long since melted away. The theories, the laws, the formulas they all wove together with a clarity that had eluded you before. Perhaps it was his patience, or maybe just the way he spoke, each word deliberate, measured, filled with an unwavering certainty that left no room for doubt. The parchment beneath your fingers blurred slightly as you fought to keep up with your own notes, scrawling down key insights between spoken explanations.

Your hand was starting to cramp, your thoughts teetering on the edge of exhaustion, when “That is enough for now.” You blinked, the abrupt statement pulling you out of your concentrated haze. Shadow Milk Cookie reached forward, closing your notebook with an air of finality.

“…What?” You frowned, still processing the sudden shift. “It is time for lunch,” he said, rising from his seat with the same unhurried grace he always carried.

“You will need more fuel if you wish to continue studying effectively.” You stared at him. Shadow Milk Cookie, calling for a break? Not you, not after growing too tired to focus or feeling your stomach protest from neglecting to eat. Him.

“…Huh.” You leaned back, arms crossed. “You’re the one stopping for a break? That’s new.” A flicker of amusement passed through his golden gaze.

“You act as though I do not eat.”

“Do you?” you shot back, half-teasing. “Because sometimes I wonder.”

His lips quirked not quite a smile, but close. “Come.” You hesitated only briefly before sighing and rising from your chair, stretching your stiff limbs. “Fine, fine.” You cast a last glance at your notes before following him toward the dining hall. The lingering warmth of his earlier praise still echoed in your mind.

As you walked alongside Shadow Milk Cookie, the air between you was… comfortable. Perhaps it was the lingering ease of having successfully navigated the study session, or maybe it was simply the quiet certainty of his presence. Either way, you found yourself talking about nothing in particular, just filling the space with whatever crossed your mind.

“So, do you think transmutation could work on food?” you mused, half-serious. “Like, if I got tired of my soup and wanted it to be cake instead?”

Shadow Milk Cookie glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “You would require a base element with similar magical properties. Soup and cake are… incompatible.”

You snorted. “That’s the part you take issue with? Not the fact that I’m trying to turn my lunch into dessert?” He hummed, folding his hands behind his back.

“A questionable use of magic, but not impossible.” You grinned, letting the conversation wander further. “Alright, then what about transmuting dreams? If you could alter them, make them into something tangible-”

“An imprecise science,” he mused. “Dreams lack a stable form. To transmute them would require first anchoring them in reality.”

“So, basically, I’d have to bottle a dream first?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

You sighed dramatically. “Guess I’ll have to abandon my dream of dream transmutation, then.” A soft huff of amusement escaped him. “A paradoxical statement.”

The back-and-forth continued as you made your way to the dining hall, your questions becoming more ridiculous, more aimless anything to keep talking, anything to keep his attention just a little longer. Not that he seemed to mind.

He answered each question with the same patience as always, as if indulging your nonsense was just as important as discussing transmutation theory. The early afternoon air clung to your skin, cool and thick with the scent of rain that had yet to fall. The floating lanterns that lined the Academy’s walkways flickered with a gentle, wavering light, their glow catching in the golden thread embroidered along his sleeves.

The two of you walked in step though, in truth, it was you who matched his pace, trailing just half a step behind, resisting the urge to look up at him every time the warm lantern light reflected in his golden eyes.

Shadow Milk Cookie was always composed, always poised in that effortless way that only someone like him could be. And yet, you swore you saw something flicker across his face whenever you spoke something fleeting, something you were never quite fast enough to catch. Your hand twitched by your side, fingers curling, then uncurling, before you gave in and reached out.

Not his hand, no you weren’t that bold. But the sleeve of his robes, the fine fabric slipping between your fingers like water. He didn’t stop walking, but he turned his head slightly, just enough to let you see the quiet curiosity in his expression. Not surprised, not alarmed only watching.

Waiting. Your heart pounded. “Wait,” you said, but you didn’t slow your steps. “Just… I need to ask something.” There was no hesitation.

“Then ask.” You opened your mouth. Nothing came out. You scrambled for something before the moment slipped from your grasp. “Do you think the moon ever wishes it could touch the sun?”

A slow blink. Then, a soft hum. “A rather poetic notion.” You let out a nervous laugh, gaze fixed ahead. “You didn’t answer.”

“I was considering my response.” A pause. “Do you believe it does?”

You swallowed. “Maybe.”

“Hm.” He tilted his head slightly. “And why is that?”

“Because…” You hesitated, tightening your hold on his sleeve. “Because it’s always chasing after it. And yet, no matter how close it gets, it can never reach it.” His expression did not change, but something in his gaze sharpened, as though he could see right through you.

You pressed on before you lost your nerve. “And what about rivers?” you asked, voice just a little too breathless. “Do you think they ever get tired of flowing forward?” His lips parted slightly, as if the question had genuinely caught him off guard. You didn’t give him time to answer.

“What about echoes? Do you think they feel lonely, only ever repeating what they hear?”

A soft exhale. “What are you truly asking?” Your throat went dry. You had walked this path to the dining halls a hundred times before, but now, the distance felt immeasurable. Every step, every moment, stretched longer than it should have. You glanced up at him, at the serene, unreadable expression he always wore. He was so calm, so unaffected, as if nothing in this world could ever shake him.

But you had seen the way his brows furrowed when you asked too many questions, the way he tilted his head when your words gave him pause. You had seen him think had seen the exact moment when something you said left him considering.

Maybe that was why you spoke again, voice barely above a whisper. “And… what about yesterday?” His steps slowed just a fraction. You pressed forward. “You said something to me. Something I don’t understand.”

Shadow Milk Cookie studied you, the lantern light casting long shadows across his face. "Then ask me again.” Your pulse pounded. "You said I was the question you didn't want to answer."

A pause. He did not look away, nor did he interrupt. So you kept going. “But that doesn’t make sense. You always have answers. You don’t waste words, you don’t leave things unresolved. And if you ever refuse to answer something, it’s only because you already know the truth, and you just don’t want to say it out loud.”

His eyes gleamed. A breath. "Perhaps," he murmured.

"Then why?" Your grip on his sleeve tightened. “Why won’t you answer me?” Silence. You hated it. You hated how he could leave things hanging in the air like that how he could make you feel the weight of what he wasn’t saying. His expression remained still, but there was something else now something restrained. As if he were weighing his words with the utmost care, ensuring that whatever left his lips would not be something he would regret.

Finally, he spoke. "Because some truths,” he said, voice quiet, “once spoken, cannot be taken back.” Your breath hitched. Your fingers, still gripping his sleeve, trembled.

"But I-" You swallowed hard. "I deserve to know." A flicker of something, something just beneath the surface, something almost unreadable. Then, so softly it barely reached your ears, "Yes," he admitted. "You do."

The entrance to the dining hall loomed just ahead. The warmth of it, the voices of other students, the scent of fresh bread and tea it all pressed against the edges of this moment, threatening to shatter the fragile silence between you. But still, he did not move. Still, his gaze did not waver.

“…Not yet though,” he murmured at last. The words settled between you like an unfinished sentence, like a book missing its final page. Your grip on his sleeve loosened, but you didn’t step away. The doors to the dining hall stood open before you. The world beyond this quiet moment beckoned. And yet, you could not move. Not yet. Your fingers curled loosely around the fabric of his sleeve, a fragile tether between you and the only answer you sought. You barely realized you had stopped walking until you felt the shift the absence of movement, the pause of your breath. Shadow Milk Cookie did not pull away.

A/N I know it's an odd spot to stop But I didn't feel well enough to finish the scene so ch 18 will be a little longer...I feel horrible and sorry y'all this was supposed to be out on friday but yknow I got cursed by the heavens or whatever

Anyways...

Remember to follow and reblog for more bangers 😎😎😎🔥🔥🔥🔥

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[miabebe]

My Girlfriend Faked Her Amnesia (Wen Junhui)

Reverse Trope Series Installment 4

It wasn’t always that life gave one the chance to hit reset, but now that Jun had gotten it, he didn’t have long before time ran out - 10 days to valentine's day which meant 10 chances to make his amnesiac girlfriend remember him again. But it wasn’t going to be a cakewalk - after all, how could one be reminded of the past if they were only pretending to forget?

Pairing - Wen Junhui x afab! Reader

Word Count- 29k

Genre - Heavy angst, romance, hurt comfort, mild humor and as usual, yes, smut - This piece is lowkey inspired by the Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind!

Warnings - Car accident, mentions of blood, memory loss, hospital setting

A/n - Hello my loves! This is my bit for the Lonely Hearts Cafe Collab hosted by the wonderful @camandemstudios, my first ever collab! Please do also check out the stories by all the other writers - everyone has been working super hard on this! I hope you enjoy this piece and leave your thoughtsss :) To be added to the reverse tropes taglist, please comment under this post :)

Smut warnings - This is only the first half (12k) of the story and there is no smut in it yet. Warnings will be added for the second half!

The End: 27th December 2024 

"Careful!" 

You quickly swerved to the side of the road, the car screeching to a stop as the honking truck zoomed past you.

Fuck. Gripping the steering wheel tight, you let out a sigh of relief, your wandering thoughts returning to the present. That was close. 

The man beside you mumbled something under his breath as he unbuckled his seatbelt before alighting the car and opened your door, wordlessly asking you to get out.

You complied, allowing him to take over your role as the driver and quietly slid in the passenger seat.

Adjusting the mirror he glanced up and down the snow clad road before driving off into the darkness. Again, without saying a word. 

That's how things had been between the two of you for a while now. Silent. 

Some might say that after nearly 10 years of being together, the two of you didn't need words to communicate anymore, you just understood each other so well. But only you knew the reality - there was nothing left to say. Everything was at the edge of falling apart. 

You glanced down at your hands, fingers fidgeting. Yes it was cold but it was the emptiness that bothered you. 

Your boyfriend shot you a look before his hand hovered over the controls of the car. 

"Are you feeling cold?" 

See, he didn't understand. He never seemed to understand. And you were tired of explaining but a tiny voice in your head said to try just once more. 

"My mum was asking why there's no ring yet?" Caressing the fingers of your left hand, you looked up, far off at the skies where the morning sun still hadn't made its way up. 

“And what did you say?” 

You turned to him, not hiding the incredulous expression donning your face, “What am I supposed to say Jun?” He looked straight ahead, eyes more focused on the road than required. “How does one answer a question like this?” 

His Adam's apple bobbed with his gulp. “That....we’re not ready?” 

“And looking at us, who will buy that?” 

Jun kept quiet again, perhaps because he knew you were right.

The two of you had been together for the majority of your lives which meant your families, friends, colleagues all were a consistent witness of your relationship. Even over the last week, when you were spending Christmas with your family at the ski cabin, your sister wouldn’t stop talking about how you two were perfect for one another. She didn’t know that behind closed doors, in the privacy of your room, the two of you slept with your backs facing each other.

Jun sighed, noticing you were getting lost in your thoughts again. “Why do we have to justify ourselves to anyone anyways Y/n? This is our life-” 

“You’re right, there’s no need to justify anything to anyone. But you can tell me why, right?” You half turned towards him, leaning against the car door. “You and I can talk about why we’re nearing our thirties and still haven’t made any decision about getting married?” 

“Jesus, twenty five is not considered thirties Y/n." He rolled his eyes exasperated. "Besides, what does age have to do with marriage? Getting married should be something that we decide because we want to spend our lives with each other.”

You blinked at him. “Then do you not want to spend your life with-”

“I did not say that.” He glanced at you before quickly looking back at the road. “Of course, I do. Baby, you and I live together, we do everything together, we are as good as married-”

“So then a wedding would just be a formality right-”

“No, it would be a show!” You flinched a little as he raised his voice, annoyed. “It would be to show the world something, to prove to others that we are committed and will last through it all, as though signing a few documents is a guarantee of that.”

“Marriage isn’t just about that Jun. Do you have any idea how many things will become easier - buying a house, getting loans, so many logistics-”

He scoffed, shaking his head slowly. “That’s what marriage is to you? A practical, logical, legal binding?” 

Biting your lower lip you let out a deep breath. “If you think it should mean much more or that it should be made purely on emotions then what’s stopping you? Or do you not love me anymore-”

“Why would you say that?” He groaned, like he was tired of this conversation. “I do love you, more than anything. Which is why I want you to be able to focus on yourself without taking the burden of a marriage. I want you to fulfill all the dreams you have for your career, for your professional growth-”

“Jun, I can do all of that while being married too-”

“Marriage changes people! It changes priorities, it changes expectations-”

“So that’s what you’re afraid of? Expectations? Because I expect you to be a bit more responsible? To get your act together-”

“It won’t stop at that will it?” He sighed. “This is all our life is going to be - First it’ll be about dividing household chores, who’ll do dishes, who’ll take out the trash. Next it’ll be about finding the perfect house and having children-” 

“We’ve talked about this and you said you didn’t have a problem with having children Jun.” You snapped at him, triggered at his words. “I’m not getting any younger here-”

“And I’ve not grown up!” He slammed the wheel with his hand. “I do want to have kids someday but not now, not any time soon. I… I can barely look after myself, how am I going to look after a child? And if I’m incapable it will mean that you will have to carry the burden of it all - of raising the child, of me and of yourself and I don’t want that for you.”

You fell silent again, realising that the conversation was going just like it always did.

You would go on to insist that you were ready for whatever was to come and the time was right now, Jun would insist that he isn’t willing to let you take on so much and that marriage shouldn’t be about timing, it should be about wanting to be with each other. You would then claim he’s being too emotionally driven about this and he would claim that you were being too practical and the conversation would just be about the two of you justifying your point of views, reaching no conclusion. 

This is what happened every single time. This was what was going to happen again now. And frankly, you were tired of it. 

“When did we start wanting such different things?” You glanced at the road that disappeared into the darkness. The early morning light was not enough to illuminate the path ahead. “I thought…. we were perfect for each other, that we were meant to be. After nearly ten years, where did it all go wrong?”

You didn’t mean for it to sound hurtful, but Jun had always been the sensitive one.  

“Just because we’re not in the same frame of mind right now, doesn’t mean all the years we shared mean nothing.”

“But what does it mean?” You smiled sadly. “We aren’t growing, we aren’t able to help each other grow, what was the point of it all? Ten years and…. we achieved nothing.” 

It was like you were leaving arrow after arrow to pierce his heart - he knew you were the reasonable kind - always planning, always making lists, always marking milestones. Whatever you were saying now, had to be the result of a moment of frustration, not because you were questioning the love that you had for each other…. right? 

You weren’t regretting this, were you? 

He let out the breath he was holding. “Then maybe it would have been better if the last ten years didn’t happen at all.” 

Please say I’m wrong Y/n. Please say prove me wrong, please say we’re worth it. 

Although you were never really one to be driven by emotions, Jun always was. The one who never forgot anniversaries, the one who always tried to make every moment special, the one who always reminded you that you were not each other’s habits but each other’s love. Had things gone so far that the man who savoured every moment of being in love with you, thought it was better that you never met? 

“Is that what you really think?” You whispered, ignoring the feeling of something pricking the back of your eyes. 

Jun turned to you surprised. How could you even think that? Of course not-

“Careful!” 

Headlights beamed from right across, but this time, Jun’s quick swerve was not enough. 

As the car skidded wildly, with a sickening crunch it slammed into the side of the oncoming truck, the momentum sending it toppling over, rolling violently onto its roof with a screech of metal. As it came to a stop, the sun rose from above the clouds far away and steam rose from what was remaining of the crumpled vehicle. In the heavy stillness that followed, alongside the eerie whisper of the wind, streams of red mixed with the white of the snow. 

Your boyfriend’s hand extending towards you was the last thing you saw before everything went black. 

The Afterlife: 31st December 2024 

Pain. 

Unbearable pain. 

That's what was searing through his body, over and over again. Everywhere, in every inch…. Just pain. 

Perhaps because he hadn’t stopped running. 

Jun had been running in the forest for what seemed like forever. Where to? He had no idea. Where from? He didn’t know that either. 

All he knew was he was looking for something he had lost. Something clearly precious to him. Something he couldn’t live without. 

Yet ignorantly, he kept running. Until....

Jun.

Your voice echoed around him like a soft whisper. Finally stopping by the lake, he looked around, frantically trying to find you. 

It was then, across the frozen crystal clear waters he saw you - beautiful as ever, the only bright thing in the dark, daunting woods. 

He wanted to go to you, he wanted to be with you but the slippery ice didn’t let him take a step forward. 

Instead, you took a step back. 

Then another one. 

Then another. 

Jun continued to call out your name, trying to stop you from receding into the shadows but in vain. Slowly you disappeared into the darkness, the black of the woods engulfing you as Jun fell to his knees, the ice cracking under him. 

Shutting his eyes, he attempted to stop the pain but it only got worse. It was just pain, pain, pain. 

When he opened them, white flickering lights were strangely swaying above him. 

Blinking, Jun tried to see clearly but just then, the ice finally gave away, submerging him into the cold waters. 

As the icy waters of the lake dragged him down, Jun felt his eyes slowly shut again and your name was the last thing he remembered.

The Awakening: 27th January 2025 

The blur flickering light of the ceiling became clear as the rhythmic beeping of machines slowly pulled him from the depths of unconsciousness.

Head throbbing and body aching, an unsettling sense of disorientation washed over him, like he had been asleep for too long. Slowly raising himself on his elbows, Jun looked around, eyes finding the strange setting of a hospital room, the overwhelming smell of antiseptic finally hitting him. 

Shutting his eyes again, he tried to recollect what happened, how he ended up here……

“Y/n…” 

The argument. 

The crash.

The sight of your eyes fluttering shut as blood trickled down your face. 

“Fuck.” He mumbled, looking at all the tubes and wires attached to him, holding him back. Without an ounce of care, he tugged them off, triggering the loud alarms of the machines but before his feet even touched the cold tile of the floor, the doors flung open and a handful of people donning impeccably white coats spilled in, looking worried.

“Sir, please don’t-”

“Where’s Y/n?”

“You need to calm down, you’re not ok-”

He grabbed the collar of the man before him. “Don’t tell me to calm down. Where is Y/n?”

“We…” The doctor looked terrified. “Who is Y/n?”

Annoyed, Jun tugged on his shirt harder. “The car crash, there was a woman with me in the car, in the passenger seat, where is she?” 

“What woman?” The man stuttered, looking at his team confused. “You were brought to our hospital alone.” 

Shocked, Jun loosened his grip, allowing the doctor to quickly move back, putting himself at an arm’s distance. 

Alone?

“That’s not possible….” He muttered. “She was with me, she should be here…” 

“The accident happened in the countryside so you were taken to the nearest emergency care but your injuries were too severe so they shifted you here, to the city hospital.” The doctor looked at him slightly hesitating. “Maybe there was a woman with you, but she wasn’t brought here. Either her condition wasn’t serious enough or she didn’t….”

Eyes narrowing, Jun looked at the shivering man before him. “She didn’t, what?”

“S-she didn’t make it-”

“How dare you?” He spoke between gritted teeth, charging towards the doctor, only to be quickly held back by the nurses around him. “How dare you even suggest something like that-”

“Mr. Junhui, I was only stating the possibility-”

“What you’re saying is not possible-”

“Sir please, your heart rate is getting erratic-”

“I don’t care, I need to find her-”

“You can’t leave.”

“Stop me if you can.” Jun pulled himself free from the grip of those around him, leaving for the door, glaring at the crowd challengingly. 

Only one of them dared to step forward - a woman, one not wearing a doctor’s coat, looking at him with sympathy rather than fear. 

“Sir please….” She whispered softly, slowly approaching him, ignoring the worried looks of those around her. “I understand your worry and I’m so sorry for this but you need to calm down…. I have no other choice.” 

Jun frowned as she neared, maintaining a strong, unavoidable eye contact, the contents of her hands completely missing his vision. Before he could understand what was happening, there was a prick in his arm, hands reaching out to him and the flickering light blurred again as his eyes shut. 

28th January 2025

“Let me go.” 

The events from about 24 hours ago had repeated again. 

The fluttering lights, the machines, the wires, the tubes, the doctors - everything happened in the same sequence except there was one difference this time. When Jun tried to pull on the wires and swing his legs off the bed, he found all four of his limbs restrained. 

“Please.” He whispered. “I need to find Y/n.”

“Sir, there really was no woman brought along with you.” The woman’s eyes reflected the same sympathy they had since the day he had been wheeled in. “We got your records from the emergency center you were taken to.” 

Pulling out a bunch of papers from a file, she placed it on his lap. “There was a woman with you but she was discharged from there within a week.”

“A-a week?” Jun stuttered, looking around. “How long has it been since the accident?” 

“Almost…” She looked at the papers thoughtfully. “Almost a month. You’ve been unconscious all this while, you sustained a traumatic injury to your-”

“What about Y/n?” 

Stepping up and reading through the papers, the doctor from earlier spoke with his expertise. “She had a severe injury on her head too but she gained consciousness about a week after the accident and she…. just left.” 

“Just left?” It felt as though something cold was just dumped on his head. “Just left me?” 

“Mr. Jun, we’re not sure what exactly happened but….” The woman looked at him uncertainly. “The last few weeks that you were here, no woman has come to visit you. Y/n hasn’t been around.” 

Jun let out a shaky breath, “She probably didn’t know I was here. She… she must be looking for me, she must be so worried. I should go to her-” 

“You’re not well enough to leave.” The doctor spoke from behind the woman, worried even though Jun’s movements were restrained. “I wouldn’t suggest-” 

“I don’t want your suggestion. I want you to open these-” He tugged on the belts. “-so I can go.” 

Everyone exchanged looks, shifting in their places.

“Open them!” 

“Again, I’m sorry Mr. Jun.” The woman approached him slowly, an injection clearly visible in her hand this time. “This is for your good.” 

Once again, everything became blur before it all went dark. 

31st January 2025

“She didn’t pick the call.” The woman without a coat, who’s name Jun learnt was Mira, walked up to him. “Again.” 

Sighing, Jun looked outside the window. The streets were busy - cars were going up and down, people were walking about, some laughing, some stressed. But everything was moving, everyone was moving. Only his life had come to a standstill. 

“Do you remember anyone else’s number?” 

Jun shook his head. “Who even memorises numbers these days? Everything is stored on my phone-”

“-which broke in the accident.” She finished for him. 

“I only remember my girlfriend’s number because she forced me to remember it in case of emergencies like these.” He chuckled softly, walking up to the wall with the pictures of the two of you stuck all over. He ran his fingers over the picture of you hugging him from behind, head resting on his shoulder. “She was always so well prepared, always a step ahead….. except now.”

When Jun woke up 3 days ago, Mira had been there to tell him you were nowhere to be found. She had looked for you at home, which had been abandoned for over a month, at the library where you often worked on your projects, at the stores where you preferred to shop, at the park where you jogged every morning. You were nowhere. 

Your family was nowhere to be seen either - the house was locked and the neighbours claimed they had gone somewhere overseas. There was no trace of you at all - it was like you had vanished into thin air, like you were just a mirage, a dream. 

“I wish I could help Jun.” Mira walked up to him, placing her hand on his shoulder, looking around his apartment. “I’m sorry the only thing I could assist you with is getting you back home. But I had someone clean up the place so it should be more habitable now.” 

“Thank you Mira, for everything.” He muttered, slowly moving her arm away, tearing his eyes away from the photographs. “I’m sorry, I… I think I should….. shower, I smell like the hospital.” 

She nodded as Jun disappeared into the washroom, wordlessly asking her to leave. Grabbing her bag, she shot him one last sad look as she hesitatingly made her way out. 

Standing before the mirror, Jun sighed at his reflection - he had never seen himself look this lifeless. Wincing in pain, he removed his shirt slowly, pulling it over his head - almost healed gashes and wounds were littered all over his torso. 

The memory of an injured you flashed behind his shut eyes.

“Where are you Y/n?” He whispered, trying not to let his voice shake. “Come back to me.” 

Jun glanced at the small coffee shop across the road, one he had never seen before, the hanging sign board slowly swaying in the cold wind - Lonely Hearts Cafe. 

So many things had changed over the last month. He, who was the biggest homebody known to mankind, could not bear to stay in his house for another minute. Not where every inch of it was filled with the essence of you, where everything was a reminder of you. A part of him was relieved that there were pictures and traces of you were everywhere - that meant you were real, not a figment of his imagination…. but that also made your absence hurt more. 

He had spent the last few hours wandering the streets mindlessly, trying not to let everything outside the haven the two of you built together remind him of you too. 

But there you were, in your favourite pizza shop on the corner of the street, munching on a slice. Just as he approached, shocked and frantic, you disappeared, like you were never there. And then he saw you again, at the hairdressers this time, getting just the ends trimmed, like always. And then you were by the butchers, petting that little dog you adored. And then by the lake, glancing at the frozen waters, vanishing as usual when he approached to stand by you. Even though you weren’t really around, his eyes found the memories of you everywhere - it was like he didn’t know a life without you. 

There was no life without you.  

The cafe he was currently staring at was perhaps the only place that Jun knew he wouldn’t see you. It looked new, like a business that had just freshly found itself in this vicinity but something about it was also whimsical and fairytale-like, as though it was someone’s old dream came true. Jun had never been a coffee kinda guy - Chinese tea was usually his go-to beverage so it didn’t make sense why he felt this strange urge to go in. Maybe because he knew he wouldn’t be haunted by your absence there.

At first, he took a step ahead, attempting to go towards it but he was unable to take another - he didn’t want to not see you. Even though it hurt, he’d rather see the memories of you everywhere than familiarise himself with a life without you. 

So shaking his head, he turned away, heading back home, going back to everything that reminded him of you when…… something caught his eye. 

At first, he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him again because there was no way…. 

Inching closer, ignoring the oncoming traffic and the screaming drivers, he crossed the road, standing right before the large glass windows of the shop. Slowly raising his hand, he wiped the condensation off the frosted glass, catching a clear sight of what was inside. 

You. 

There you were, walking about in a little checkered apron, placing cups of coffee on the table as you flashed your bright smile at those who were seated. 

Squeezing his eyes shut, Jun turned around, fists tightened painfully. You’ll disappear again, just like all those times before, you’ll disappear again, he was just imagining this, projecting his innermost desire. You weren’t really here….right? 

But the sound of your laughter told him he was wrong. Quickly turning back, he caught sight of you again, making your way to the counter, putting cash into a large glass jar on the wooden shelf. 

As though in a trance, Jun walked over to the door and pushed it open, eyes not leaving you as you laughed and scribbled something down on a notepad before walking to the tables with a bounce in your strut he had never seen before. 

Just as your name found itself on the tip of his tongue, you stopped your tracks and turned around, eyes finding him walking in, lips curling with a wide smile. 

“Hi sir, welcome to Lonely Hearts Cafe.” Clutching the notepad to your chest, you beamed at him. “Do you want to take a seat or get a drink to go?” 

“Y/n…” He whispered, barely able to hear himself, taking a small step ahead.

“Oh I almost forgot,” You softly smacked your head. “If you’re interested, we’re having a small valentines special event, for singles. Any two people who get the exact same drink will be paired to sit at the same table. It’s kind of a ‘if your tastes match, maybe you guys will too’ sort of concept?” 

Given he was staring at you with a vacant expression, you blinked at him like you weren’t quite sure if he understood. 

Jun didn’t understand. Why were you behaving like he was a stranger? Like you didn’t know him. 

Maybe…. this wasn’t you.

“So…” Tucking your loose fringes behind your ear, you tried searching his face for an answer. “What would you like?” 

Jun’s eyes flickered to the healing gash on your forehead, the night of the accident, flashing in his mind again. 

It was you. There was no doubt it was you. 

And so without a second thought, Jun took two big strides, pulling you towards him, wrapping his arms around you tightly, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Excuse me?! Sir-”

“Where have you been?” He muttered, not realising you were struggling to break free from his grip. “I’ve been looking for you-”

“Get off me!” Using all your strength, you pushed him off you, causing the man to take a few staggering steps back, shocked. 

All heads in the cafe turned towards the two of you, a strange silence descending upon the room before hushed whispers broke out. Flashing a fake smile at everyone, you quickly grabbed Jun by his wrist, leading him out of the cafe, shutting the door behind you. 

“What the hell was that?” You glared at him. “Sir, I don’t know who you think you are, but that was unacceptable.” 

Jun blinked at you confused. “I thought….I thought-” 

“I don’t care what you thought.” You crossed your arms looking stern, all the warmth from earlier having left your being. “If I ever see you in my cafe again, I swear to god I will call the cops.”

“You…” Jun looked at you incredulously. “You’ll call the cops on me?” 

“Most definitely.” 

It didn’t make sense. None of this made sense. Why would you call the cops on him? Were you mad at him about something?

Jun’s racked his mind, trying to think of the last conversation the two of you had. The night of the accident. He couldn’t remember all too well, but the image of you glancing at your empty ring finger flashed in his mind. 

“Is this about….getting married?” You frowned as Jun ran his hands through his hair. “If it really means this much to you then, fine, let’s get married. I just wanted it to be-”

“Married?” You looked at him like you couldn’t believe what he was saying. “Why on Earth would I marry you? I don’t even know you-”

“Jun!” 

At the sound of his name, Jun turned around, only to find himself being slammed into the familiar chest of a tall, lanky man. The fragrance of expensive perfume immediately told him who it was - His best friend Minghao. As Jun tried to break free from his friend’s untimely interruption, Minghao held him tight, whispering in his ear. 

“Don’t say a word.” 

“Mr. Xu.” You glanced at the intertwined figures of both men, eyebrows furrowed. “You know this man?” 

“Y/n.” Breaking free, Minghao threw his arm around Jun, flashing a hard smile. “This is Jun, he’s a dear friend. Sorry if he said anything or got out of line - he was just discharged from the hospital after a big accident, he’s a bit disoriented.” 

“Oh.” You looked at him up and down as though it all made sense and you were unable to decide whether to feel sympathetic or stand your ground. “Mr. Jun, I’m sorry you went through all that but whatever you did, that was not appropriate at all.” 

“Y/n what-”

“Yes of course.” Minghao squeezed Jun’s shoulder, shutting him up. “He won’t be troubling you again.” 

“If you really do need a cup of coffee, there are a lot more shops down the street that I’m sure will suit your taste.” You took a step back, reaching for the door again, expression unreadable. “Please don’t come back to me.” 

With that you pushed the door open and disappeared into the cafe allowing Minghao to finally let go of his friend who turned to him, beyond confused. 

“What…. What was that?” He pointed at you, waiting the tables again inside, like nothing happened. Like he didn’t exist. 

“Jun…” Minghao let out a shaky breath, looking carefully at his friend. “Let’s go home, I’ll explain everything.”

“No.” Shaking his head frantically, he reached for the door again. “I’m not going anywhere without Y/n.” 

Moving quickly, Minghao put himself in between, blocking the way. 

“Please.” He held his hand out. “Y/n, she…. she won’t come with you.”

Jun looked at him incredulously. “Why not?” 

“Because she doesn’t remember….” Minghao spoke slowly, watching his friend’s face carefully. “She doesn’t remember you.” 

The throbbing pain was back. 

Actually, it never left. The pain was always there, it was him who had suppressed it under everything else. But with the revelation of things, it became unhinged, freely coursing in his being, hurting everywhere. 

Minghao poured Jun another cup of tea as the two men sat at the dining table, the latter still clutching a photo of you, trying to make sense of all that he was told. 

“She….she doesn’t remember me at all?” He frowned, still confused. “Because of…. you?” 

“Because she doesn’t want to.” Minghao corrected his friend, yet again. “Jun, it was her choice to do the procedure.”

The procedure. 

Minghao had spoken all about it in great detail for the last half an hour. It all went over his head though, Jun didn’t register a single piece of the information thrown at him except one thing - the procedure was to remove memories. 

Yes apparently that was a thing. A new initiative by Minghao’s company - a simple medical procedure in which one could choose to erase their memories of a certain period of time. A process straight out of the sci-fi books - one so ridiculous, Jun would have never believed it if it weren’t coming out of his best friend's mouth. 

That his girlfriend had gotten all her memories of him wiped from her mind. 

“It makes no sense.” Jun shook his head. “Why would she want to forget me? Why would she choose to…”

Minghao looked at his friend staring at your photo sadly. He had always known Jun to be someone full of life - he was ambitious, passionate and always bursting with energy. But now he looked like the whole world had come crashing around him. 

“I’m sorry Jun.” Minghao could feel the guilt eating him on the inside. “All of it happened in my company, right under my nose but I had no idea Y/n had gotten it done till it was all over. Maybe if I had reached the clinic just a little earlier, I could have stopped them from injecting the serum-”

“No Hao, whether you could stop her or not, it won’t change the fact that Y/n wanted to….” Jun swallowed the bile rising in his throat. “She didn’t want to just leave me or walk away from this relationship, she wanted to erase its entire existence from her life. To pretend like it never happened. But why…”

“I wish I knew Jun.” Minghao shook his head softly. “All I know is that this choice mustn't have been easy for her - to forget you she had to have the last 10 years of her life removed. That’s how far she was willing to go to…”

Minghao's words rang in his ears. 

10 years….

Maybe it would have been better if the last ten years didn’t happen at all.

The night of the accident…. that's what he had said. 

Oh god, was that why you….

What had he done? 

“Jun?” Minghao snapped his fingers before his friend's face. “Where are you lost-”

“This was a mistake.” Jun shook his head. “This was all a horrible misunderstanding. I didn’t mean…”

“Mean what?” 

Jun couldn’t even recall why he had said that. It was like his brain was suppressing the stupidity from recurring. 

“I need to talk to her. I need to fix this.”

“How exactly-”

“I’ll marry her, right this instant if that’s what it takes-”

“Jun no-”

“Hao, yes.” He turned to his friend, determined. “I can fix it. I can talk to her and sort this out. Just help me put her memories back again-”

“That’s not-”

“-and I’ll make her see how much I love her-” 

“Jun, that's not possible.” Minghao raised his voice, interrupting his friend’s rant. “Dealing with memories isn’t child’s play. It's one thing to remove them, but to restore them? That’s impossible.”

It felt like everything around was shattering. “You mean she won't ever….”

Minghao shook his head, delivering the final blow. “She won't… ever.” 

Jun stared at the photo in his hand. 

Minghao, who had insisted on staying the night, had hit the shower, his tea sitting cold in its cup. 

Cold draft was blowing in through the open kitchen window. The tips of his fingers were frozen but they were not colder than the thing wrapping around his heart, eating it away.  

Minghao’s last words as he was lingering by the door rang in his ears. 

“Y/n chose to forget you Jun, she chose to restart her life. Maybe it’s best that you do too.” 

Restart his life? Pretend like you didn’t exist and move on? How on Earth was he supposed to do that? 

He glanced at the room around him - at the pictures of you on the walls, at the vase you brought back from your trip to spain, at the coasters you always made sure to use, at the rug you specifically had made to match the couch, at every single thing in his life that was a testament of you. How was he supposed to forget all of it? 

But the truth was, you had forgotten it all. You had walked out of his life, your home and everything the two of you had built together over the last 10 years. None of this around him meant anything to you anymore. 

You had built a new world for yourself, one which Jun had reached, lost in his thoughts. The cafe, the coffee, the customers, the infectious smile on your face, the little bounce in strut, the way your hair fell over your shoulder as you’d turn - you had built something that had no trace of him but more importantly, you looked so happy. Jun couldn’t remember the last time he saw you smile this wide, or even laugh at something stupid. The winter was harsh on the city outside but everything around you seemed so warm. 

Maybe Minghao was right. Maybe it was best that he forgot it all too. 

1st February 2025 

“Where do I put this?” 

Jun turned to Mira who was holding up a bunch of books in her arms. 

“They're all cookbooks, but I'm not sure whether to put it in the box with her law books or in the one with magazines.”

“We can just leave these out.” Taking them from here, Jun walked into the kitchen. “We don't have to put away everything.” 

Sighing Mira followed him. “Jun, boss said everything. Everything that belongs to her, everything that reminds you of her.” 

Jun stared at the books in his hands. Two hours ago, he was sprawled on the couch half asleep, your scarf wrapped around his hand, a frame with your photo in his arms. Much to his annoyance, the consistent ringing of the bell forced him to drag himself to the door and standing on the other side was Mira. 

Jun didn't think he would ever have any reason to see her again but apparently, Mira wasn't just a random hospital staff who helped him - she was in fact Minghao's employee, a psychiatrist who worked in his Memory Wipe project and was asked by him to look after Jun till he came around, as a favour. That day when she left the apartment, she had immediately told Minghao about all that happened - that's how he found his friend declaring he was ready to marry you in front of the coffee shop. Mira though, had no idea about you or that you had your memories wiped - she only found out when Minghao, who left early in the morning for a meeting, sent her over to Jun’s house with a new phone and a contract. A contract to obliterate the last 10 years of his memories. 

“You want me to erase her existence?” Jun furiously muttered into the phone. “How did you even think-” 

“Will you be able to survive with her memories?” Even though he couldn't see his face, Jun knew Minghao was donning a sorry expression. “It'll kill slowly you, Jun. Not being able to be with her, not being able to forget her, not being able to move on. If I had to name something worse than hell, this is it.”

For long after the call ended, Jun stared at the contact papers on the coffee table, his mind disturbed. As much as he didn't want to distance himself from you, could he really live with the fact that you'll never be his again? It had been barely 2 days since he was awake and he was already at the verge of losing his mind. Maybe it was better he too forgot it all. 

But it also pained him to think that if both of you forgot everything, then there was no one who truly knew the kind of pure and unwavering love the two of you shared over the last ten years. At least for the sake of those, he had to stay strong, he had to live with this. But could he really? 

And it was thoughts like this that had him rooted to his chair for over an hour. 

“You don't have to decide now.” Mira interrupted his cycle of thought, tired of watching his unmoving figure. “The procedure is simple. I already have the 10 year formula ready in your name. All you have to do is just come by the centre when you're ready - one injection and it'll be done.” 

As much as Jun was grateful for the time, there was one thing Minghao wanted him to do immediately - clear the apartment of anything and everything that belonged to you. That's what the two of them were in the middle of right now as Mira glanced at the cookbooks in his hands. 

“Jun, whether or not you want to get the Memory Wipe, you need to get rid of all these things. You won't ever move on otherwise-” 

“They're cookbooks.” Jun rolled his eyes, placing them on the shelf of the kitchen. “Has it not occurred to you that I might use these myself?”

Mira stared at him like she didn't believe him but Jun ignored her. There was no way he was going to get rid of every last bit of you. What would be left of him then? 

All your clothes were packed and stashed in the store room, all the pictures of the two of you were taken down, your books, your things, everything was sealed and locked away. Except a few that Jun refused to let go - the lavender cream you used every night, the harmonica you loved to play, the cookbooks you swore would make you a better chef than him. Jun didn't have the heart to walk away from all of it just yet. 

Giving up, Mira began walking away. “I'm going to put her shoes away.” 

“Wait.” Aligning the books hurriedly, Jun quickly ran over to the closet. “Maybe just leave those heels.” 

Mira looked exasperated. “What use could you possibly have of women's footwear?”

Nothing. Jun just loved those black stilettos you wore to work - the sound of them against the wooden flooring was what told him you were home everyday. 

“Jun, this whole thing isn't just about you getting over Y/n. If you plan to do the Memory Wipe, you especially need to do this” Mira stood up sighing. “Imagine losing 10 years of your life and coming home and finding a woman's things all over. You won't remember her, you won't know what happened, you won't have any answers, it'll drive you mad. Please, listen to me, you need to get rid of it all.”

Jun turned away, peeling his eyes from the closet as Mira put the last of your footwear in the boxes, looking at him sadly. 

“How did Minghao even design this procedure?” Jun glanced at the contact papers fluttering on the table. “I knew he was indulging in some biomedical R&D, I had no idea it was this intense.” 

Mira chuckled. “Biomedical R&D barely covers the scope of what he does. Let's just say the Xu enterprises dabble in a lot of things and the Memory Wipe is their latest project. Actually its just undergoing it's last clinical trial - it’s not even advertised or available for the public.” 

“How did Y/n get to know about it then?” Jun frowned like it didn't make sense. “Minghao never talks business with me and I'm sure he's never mentioned it to her either. Then…”

“There were a bunch of lawyers involved in the legal aspects of the clinical trials.” Mira confessed, shrugging. “Maybe she heard from someone in the fraternity.” 

“Funny.” Jun smiled sadly. “Y/n has never been one for office gossip. She just liked to get her work done and head straight back home. It was always about efficiency and not wasting time.”

Mira smiled. “That's an admirable work ethic.” 

“Right? I wish I had that.” Jun glanced out of the window at the snow tumbling out of the sky. “Maybe she wouldn't have had to work so hard if I did.”

“What do you mean?” 

Jun glanced at Mira who had joined him, before continuing to stare out. 

“Y/n always believed in working hard. For her, a job was simply a means to make money. She didn't associate it with dreams or passion, it was just… survival? Me on the other hand, ever since I was a child, all I wanted to do was be an actor. I spent the last, god knows how many years, chasing that dream, picturing myself before the cameras, walking down red carpets. If I look back at my life, all I see are auditions and rejections and more rejections.” 

“It's not wrong to want to live your dream.” 

“No it's not but I don't know how right it is to live with your head in the clouds. Y/n always had her feet on the ground - that was the only reason we survived through it all.” 

“So your story is the ‘opposites attract’ kind?” 

“I guess.” Jun laughed softly. “We were polar opposites actually. She hates talking, I'm always chatting away. She's a mess, I'm neat. She hates doing household chores, I love doing them. Even in food, she loves sweet things, I like them spicy. Our preferences in anything, be it music or movies or where to go or what to wear, they were always so different but I guess….that's what made things fun. Sometimes she'd adjust for me, sometimes me for her, and though things weren't going our way, we were happy because we were making each other happy.” 

“Wow.” Mira let out a breath. “I always thought being in love with someone entirely from me would be difficult to handle.”

“If I'm being honest, there were times it did get difficult.” Jun wiped the condensation off the window with his hand, catching sight of your cafe across the street. “Y/n lived life like it was a checklist. Graduating high school at 18, then law school at 23, first job at 24, marriage at 25, three kids by the time she's 30, retired by 55, starting an organic farm business at 57 and then dying whenever - she had her whole life planned. Me on the other hand, I… live in the moment, go where life takes me. Everything around us is so uncertain, think about the accident”

Jun’s voice shook as fragments of it flashed in his head.

“We could have died, life as we know could have ended, so what's the point in deciding everything so prematurely? I take life by the day, I enjoy every moment - one day I'm doing martial arts classes for kids, one day I'm teaching old women some Chinese dishes, one day I'm doing a modelling contract. End of the day, I still make money to feed myself and pay my bills, I just don't go to bed having the next 10 years of my life planned and somehow….. I think that's what drove us apart. That's why she…” Jun let out a deep breath. “That's why she decided to start afresh. Her practicality and my emotional disposition just… didn't find any middle ground.” 

Mira softly placed her hand on Jun's shoulder, caressing it with her thumb. Clearing his throat, he took a step back, tearing his eyes away from the coffee house. 

“We should probably continue with the packing.” 

Mira nodded as she followed him, the two of them sorting things silently this time. Normally Jun wouldn't ever let go of a chance to talk about you, but now, given he had to speak about you in past tense, Jun couldn't bring himself to talk about you over and over again. Minghao was right, it was all just getting harder and harder.

And so, the next few hours were navigated in mostly silence and occasional questions. By the time the sun had begun to set, the two of them were done - all of your things had been neatly packed and put in the store room, the door locked, keys stashed in Mira's pocket for safe keeping. A couple of things had been piled by the door to be thrown out, Jun's take out dinner had arrived and Mira was lingering by the door, ready to leave. Yet the contract papers were sitting on the table, like an elephant in the room. Unable to hold herself back anymore, Mira sighed. 

“Jun, I know Minghao left the choice to you but as a professional and as someone who cares about you, I think it's best you…. " She gulped. "sign the contract. I've seen some couples after the clinical trials, trust me, you don't want to live this weight-” 

“Mira,” Jun’s voice left him between gritted teeth. “It's been barely 2 days since I got to know about what Y/n did. I haven't even decided if I am to be sad or angry or stay or move on.” He shut his eyes, running his hands through his hair. “The only reason I agreed to keep her things away or allowed someone else to even touch them was because one, I trust Minghao more than anything and two, if I really want to, I know I'm strong enough to break the door of that storeroom and get everything back. But what you're asking of me, is a permanent change. Please just…. Let me think things through at my pace.” 

Mira blinked at him, her hand on the handle of the door, unmoving. 

“Thank you for your help yet again Mira, but I think it's time you go.” 

And before the apology even left her mouth as she stepped out, Jun shut the door behind her, leaning against it.  

He just needed some time. That’s all.

Or at least that's what he thought but in just a few hours, he realised he didn't. 

Yesterday was perhaps bearable because Minghao, although he didn't speak much, was there in the house. Today though, heating up his food all alone, sitting at the table by himself, walking around his house in the dimness of the night lights, staring at the empty walls and empty shelves - it was all too much. Jun couldn't bring himself to go another day like this, forget the rest of his life. 

Taking a deep breath he sat on the couch, pulling the papers towards himself, then pen in his hand shaking. 

He wasn't strong enough for this - he couldn't go on without you. 

Finally making up his mind, he gripped the pen tight and signed the contract. There was no other way. 

But the universe said otherwise. 

If Jun had just turned around and gone to his room, things would've gone down very differently. Maybe if he decided to sleep instead of clearing the dishes and throwing the trash, he would've never thought about clearing all the boxes that Mira left by the door. Maybe then he wouldn't have come across that box. 

At first glance when he opened it, it seemed like odd bits of trash - there were pieces of paper, little trinkets, bills and what not. He was just about to throw it when his eye caught the familiar logo on one of the bills - the Lovers Cavern. The first Michelin star restaurant that Jun had taken you to on a date. Frowning, he ran his fingers through the contents of the box, recognising them one by one. Carnival and movie tickets, the crinkled wrapper of the ice cream he loves, the magnets from your first road trip together, the dried corsage from your first dance together…. everything was a thoughtful piece of the time the two of you spent together. 

You had been carefully saving them over the last 10 years. 

Jun stared at it wordlessly, lost in thought. He had never taken you as one for sentimentality. Hell you didn't even like taking photos or recording videos of your time together, he was always the one who had to pull you in, forcing you to smile. He had always assumed those small moments meant nothing to you but this box told him a different story - you had been treasuring them all these years in your own way. This relationship wasn’t just part of a checklist, you had been emotionally invested in it since the beginning, since 10 years. 

Jun could only imagine how much his words must have hurt you that day…. Clearly enough to make you take such a big step. You didn't walk away because you wanted to. You walked away because of him. His words made you…. it was his fault. 

Walking over to the window, Jun glanced at your cafe, watching as you stepped out with a couple of bags in your hands, turning off the lights and locking the door. As you balanced your things in your hands, waving for a cab, Jun slowly realised….. Minghao was wrong. 

His only options weren't to either live with your memories alone or forget you and move on. There was a third one. One that Jun was about to choose. 

He was going to get you back. He had done it once and he could do it again. 

Jun was going to make you fall in love with him all over again. 

2nd February 2025 

Rubbing the back of your sore neck, you sat down at the benches outside the cafe, enjoying the cold. 

One might think you were stupid for sitting in the snow clad street in just a small dress and an apron but the heat of the coffee was getting unbearable. Sipping on your own coffee, you glanced at the hustle and bustle down the street. Everyone looked so busy, like they were navigating life with a purpose. This coffee shop had always been your purpose, the dream you had been living for almost a month now yet something felt unfulfilled. Something was missing. Before you could figure out what, a voice broke you out of your reverie. 

“Is the same drink, same table offer still going on?” 

Raising your head, you let your eyes find the man who interrupted the few minutes of your me-time.

“Mr. Wen Junhui.” You cleared your throat, letting the annoyance show on your face. “I believe I had asked you not to enter my shop?”

“You did.” Jun nodded, sitting down beside you, a few feet away. “And I did not enter your shop - technically I'm outside.” 

You glared at him, eyes narrowed. 

“Well since you're such an ardent follower of what I say, you shouldn't be sitting with me either because-”

“Because I need to have the same drink as you, right?” Jun cocked his head at you, raising his cup. “And I do.” 

“There's no way.” You chuckled, taking a sip. “I can assure you, you don't.” 

“Correct me if I'm wrong,” Jun took a sip, smiling to himself because he knew he was not wrong. No one knew you better than him. “But I think that's a caramel macchiato with hazelnut cream.”

Lips slightly parted in surprise, you stared at him. 

“M-maybe.” You muttered, taking a sip yourself. “But I still don’t think it’s the exact same-”

“Yeah, it might not be exact.” Jun shrugged nonchalantly. “Not like I’m lactose intolerant or anything but I felt like taking it with oat milk today.” 

The cup nearly slipped from your hand. You were lactose intolerant. You always took your coffee with oat milk. 

Choosing not to tell him that, you simply continued to stare at the busy crowd. Jun let out an inward sigh of relief knowing he had earned the place to sit next to you. 

“Y/n…” Clearing his throat, he corrected himself. Baby steps Jun. “Ms. Y/n I uh actually wanted to apologise about that day.”

You turned to him, eyebrows slightly furrowed. 

“I had actually just gotten out of the hospital that day and I don’t think the anesthesia wore off completely so I was apparently just going around and…. proposing marriage to various women.” 

You raised your eyebrows like you didn’t believe him. 

“It’s true, I spent the whole day today saying sorry to every business owner on this street…. And drinking the same coffee order as them. I think I’m going to have a tough time in the bathroom tomorrow….” 

Scoffing, you turned away from him and if Jun didn’t know you better, he wouldn’t have known you were hiding a tiny smile. 

“Again I’m really Ms. Y/n, I wish that didn’t happen and that we could have a fresh start. I was really looking forward to having coffee here.” 

Letting out a deep resigned breath, you stood up, chugging the last of your drink. Tossing the cup in the bin, you turned to him, clasping your hands before you politely, giving him a small smile. 

“Mr. Wen Junhui, welcome to Lonely Hearts cafe. We’re a small business that opened just a month ago so we’ve got some really good deals on coffee and cake. We even have a Valentine’s day event - you get to share a table with the person who has the same drink as you. I hope we see you around.” 

Returning your smile, Jun got up, giving a small shrug. “That Valentine’s day event is interesting - I would love to… be seen around.” He chuckled, holding his hand out. “It’s nice knowing you Ms. Y/n.” 

Glancing at his outstretched hand, you slowly took it, wrapping your fingers around it. Somehow on the cold winter day, there was a strange warmth radiating between the two of you. 

“It’s nice getting to know you too Mr. Jun.” 

3rd February 2025 

“You know, you don’t look like someone who enjoys coffee.” 

Jun turned at the sound of your voice, finding you right beside the door he just walked in. You had a tray in your hands and an amused smile on your face. 

“What makes you say that?” 

“The face you made yesterday?” You laughed as you walked in, Jun following behind you. “I’ve never seen someone look so disgusted while drinking coffee.” 

Jun suppressed a smile as he leaned against the counter. “Oh so you were watching me.” 

Rolling your eyes, you walked towards the machines. “I happened to see.” 

“The one yesterday was just too sweet.” He shuddered, recalling the taste. “My taste buds were dying.” 

“Well obviously it was sweet, it’s caramel.” You pulled out a piece of cake, putting it on the counter as a waitress walked over, taking it. “Did you expect it to taste like Malatang?” 

Oh Jun would love some Malatang right now. 

“No, but something told me your coffee would taste much better than that one.” 

You chuckled, pulling up a cup. “Is that going to be your order for today?’ 

“Nope.” Jun shook his head. “I’ll just have whatever you’re having.” 

“What I’m having?” You frowned, confused. 

“How else will I be able to share a table with you?” 

Jun could tell you were holding back a smile. “And why would you want to do that?” 

“I thought coffee with a side of conversation would be nice.” 

“I’m working.” 

“I’ll wait.”

“I only get off at 5.” 

“I’ll wait.” 

“And then I need to head straight home.” 

“I just need 10 minutes.” 

You raised your eyebrows like you were trying to figure out what his intentions were. Meanwhile, he looked at you determined, like he’ll wait for a lifetime, if that’s what it took. Sighing you pulled out a piece of cake and set it before him. Then changing your mind, you quickly swapped it for a couple of lemon biscuits and slid it to him. 

“They’re on the house.” 

And with that you tightened your apron and walked away, leaving Jun staring at his favourite biscuits on the counter. 

“Do you need any help?” 

You looked up from the table you were cleaning at Jun who was still here, his coat discarded, cheeks flushed red and eyes tired. 

“I have staff Mr. Jun.”

“She left.” He shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Told me to inform you.” 

“Huh.” You frowned. “She always stays till I close for the extra ten I hand her every day.” 

Jun remained silent, looking away.

“You paid her.” 

“I was just helping her go home fast.”

Sighing, you straightened yourself, crossing your arms. “Okay what is it, what do you want?” 

“I told you, a conversation.”

“Well that’s what we’re having right?” 

“Right…” Jun cleared his throat, unsure how to frame his sentences while you continued to look at him expectantly. When he didn’t say anything, you rolled your eyes and continued cleaning up. 

“I was thinking…” You held out the tray, making him quickly free his hands to hold it as you began stacking plates and cutlery on it. “You’re a woman.”

“Are you doubting it?” Frowning, you walked over to the trash can, Jun right behind, struggling to balance everything. 

“No! I mean I wasn’t thinking if you were a woman, more like I was thinking since you’re a woman and I’m a man….” 

Jun trailed off completely lost about where he was going with this till you relieved him of the weight in his arms, placing the tray in the sink. 

“Mr. Jun,” You untied your apron, tucking it on the rod of the drawer. “You only have 10 minutes.” 

“Okay okay.” Jun recomposed himself, watching you pack up your things for the night.  Looks like he just had to get straight to the point. “Yes I have 10 minutes right now, but my worry is, we only have 10 days.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“It's Valentine's in 10 days….” Jun muttered below his breath trying to gauge your reaction. 

“Are you…” You narrowed your eyes at him unsure. “Is this your way of asking me out?” 

“No god,” Jun groaned, running his hands through his hair. “I swear I planned it so much better in my head-”

“Don’t.” 

And with that one word, you crushed everything. All the hope, the longing, the yearning.  

“Look Mr. Jun, normally I wouldn't go into the details but I don't want you to think I'm blowing you off but about a month ago, I got a Memory Wipe. I lost the last ten years of my life and I’m still trying to come to terms with how much things have changed.... I’m just not ready for any kind of commitment.”

“But….” Jun blinked at you confused. “You smiled…”

“Sorry?” 

“Yesterday and today…. I thought, you might also…” 

“Mr. Jun.” You sighed, donning your jacket, zipping up. “You’re a good looking man, you’re sweet and I can tell you’d be a good conversation but I didn’t mean for it to be more than that. I just assumed it would be some harmless flirting.” 

“I don’t want it to just be harmless flirting.” Jun shook his head. “I want something more. I like you and I want to-” 

“Like me, why?” You looked at him confused, grabbing your bags. “We’ve barely spoken more than 5 sentences to each other.”

We’ve been in love for more than 10 years Y/n. 

“I can’t explain it, it just…. feels right.” 

“Well I can’t function based on your whims and feelings, can I?” 

Jun stood frozen as you turned off the lights and opened the door, stepping out. Grabbing his jacket he followed you, watching you lost in thought as you locked the door before you turned to him. 

“Look, you seem like a nice guy and I’m sure you’ll find someone. It just can’t be me, I’m not in the space for it.” Adjusting the bags in your hands, you shot him an apologetic look.  “I’m sorry Mr. Jun.”

And with that you walked away, your figure moving further and getting smaller as cold winds returned to the city. For some stupid reason, Jun hadn’t anticipated this - he didn’t think about the possibility of you rejecting his advances. He just assumed the two of you would fall into the comfortable pattern of dating each other and everything would slowly return to normal. Your disappearing self was telling him otherwise….

No. 

Jun couldn’t allow this to happen. He couldn’t lose this chance.

“Wait!” Pulling his jacket over his shivering body, he ran to you, half tripping on the way. “Wait, please.” 

And you did, looking at his panting, coughing self standing in your way, trying to catch his breath. Searching your bags, you handed him a bottle of water but Jun ignored it, looking at you questioningly. 

“If whatever happened to you a month ago, didn’t happen, would you agree to go out on a date with a guy like me?” 

“I….” You looked around confused. “I don’t know.” 

“Do you have any other reason not to give us… to give me a shot?” Crossing his fingers, Jun tucked his hands in his pocket. “Any other reason to say no?” 

“Not really, no.” 

Bingo. 

“I’m sure the aftermath of the Memory Wipe hasn't been easy but life won’t stop just because you want things to pause.” Gulping he looked at you expectantly. “Look Y/n I too am in a space where things are difficult where I want to hit rewind, but I realised maybe it’s better to hit restart and I want to try that with you.” 

“Jun I…” 

“Here’s my suggestion, just hear me out.” He clasped his hands, ignoring the cold drafts. “Give me 10 days, just 10 days to change your mind about us. I know I can do it, I know I can make you see I’m worth it, that we’re worth it.” 

“You’re really not going to take no for an answer are you?” 

Jun shook his head, his face falling. “No I…. I don’t want to force you. I was just suggesting-”

“What if I’m not convinced in 10 days?” You sighed, looking at him unsure. “Will you leave the idea of ‘us’ behind and not pursue me anymore?" 

“It won’t come to that-” 

“If it does.” 

“If it does,” Jun took a deep breath. “Then you’ll never see me again. I promise.” 

And with that you went silent, like you were considering it. Jun prayed to all possible forces in the universe - please say yes, please say yes, please say yes. 

“Okay.” You agreed, slowly nodding your head. “You have 10 days. If I’m not convinced, then on the 10th day,  we’re done and we’re never seeing each other again, deal?” 

Smiling on the inside, Jun ignored the little victory lap his head was doing. “Deal.” 

“And you’re sure this will work?” 

Phone against his ear, Jun nodded confidently.

“Positive.”

“What if you’re just setting yourself up for heartbreak again?”

“I’m not.” Jun rolled his eyes. “I know I can get her back. This time I’ll be better-” 

“Haven’t you noticed?” Minghao voice was filled with caution. “She’s somehow not the same. The Y/n you knew was a hard core, cut throat lawyer. This Y/n is a barista who sells coffee and the idea of love.” 

Jun hummed in thought. “Maybe. But deep down, she’s still my Y/n and I’m her Jun. I know her better than anyone else, I can do this-”

“And if you can’t?” 

“Then I’ll live with it. But I can’t let her go without trying.” 

“And what if it still doesn’t work?” 

“I don’t want to consider that possibility.” 

“Jun be realistic. How on Earth do you plan on convincing a woman who thinks you’re a complete stranger, is struggling with her amnesia, and more importantly doesn’t want any commitment, to date you?” 

Jun sank into his couch, staring at the ceiling.  

“I have no idea.” He confessed.

“Exactly, what if things get worse for you-”

“Can you just for once be a tad bit more positive?” Jun sighed. “Look at the bright side of things. Like for example, Y/n knew I didn’t like coffee-”

“-you make the most disgusting face known to mankind when you drink it, anyone would know-”

“-and she knew I like malatang-”

“-you’re Chinese Jun. I think that was a safe guess-”

“-and she knew lemon biscuits were my favourite dessert.” 

This time Minghao went silent. 

“Nothing snarky to say?” 

When Minghao continued to keep quiet, Jun frowned, sitting up. 

“Hao do you think she… remembered?” 

“That’s not possible....” 

"You don't sound as sure as last time." Jun noted.

Minghao let out a deep breath, like he was frustrated. “Theoretically, a memory restoration is not possible but hearing you I.... I can't tell for sure - we're also still not done with the clinical trials so I cannot exactly negate the possibility."

"So,,," Jun's eyes widened. "You're saying there is a chance she might remember everything?"

"A really really small chance.....” Minghao emphasised. "Or it could just be that since Y/n has known you for ten odd years, some her actions are just reflexive - ingrained in her subconscious after years of habit." 

"But you're saying there's a small chance she might remember me again?"

Minghao sighed. Clearly, his friend wanted to just hear one thing.

"Yes. Perhaps if she's repeatedly exposed to you or to something of her past, she might remember certain things again-"

"Enough to make her want to come back to me?"

"I cannot promise that-"

"But I can try." Jun whispered, the cogwheels in his mind turning. "I have to try and Hao, I think I know exactly how."

"How-"

Cutting the call Jun tossed his phone aside and quickly grabbed the box he had stashed below the tea table, opening it. He ran his fingers again through all the memories you had saved, a small smile forming on his face.

Jun had 10 days to win you back - that meant he had 10 chances to remind you of all the good days the two of you shared. 10 memories he could recreate, ones that you yourself had stored in this very box. 10 ways he could prove 'us'..... was truly worth it.

And just like that, Wen Junhui knew exactly how to make you fall in love with him all over again. 

You stared at the photo hanging on your wall, arms crossed, eyes slightly damp.

You look so happy,....he looks so happy. 

Just like he did when you agreed to give him 10 days to woo you. 

Sighing you tore your eyes away and stared at the ground, blinking the tears away. 

“Just 10 days," You whispered, voice shaking. "….. and all of this will be over.” 

A/n - This fic is tbh very long and overwhelming so I thought its best to have it out in parts? I hope you enjoyed this part and stay tuned for the next too! Thoughts in comments and reblogs are very much appreciated my loves <3

[baeshijima]

okay so i have kind of but not really met anaxa in game but !!

anaxa x sunshine reader.

like... renown infamous genius scholar anaxagoras who doesn’t take anything from anyone is almost akin to a cat when with you, putting on an adamant front only to crumble and — begrudgingly, he tries to stress, though he really isn't fooling anyone, much less himself — ultimately give in to your whims; answering your mundane questions, listening and providing his own quips (sometimes sincere, often snappy) here and there to your endless rambles, trailing behind you hot on your heels only to eventually catch up to your side as you wander off to who knows where, yammering on about who knows what.

(you're planning to visit okhema, is what he gathered from your animated retelling of some bakery you'd heard from word-of-mouth which was supposed to be good. hah! why would you waste your time on such trivialities when you could be graced with the honour of his tutelage on the topic of free speech and— curses, how did you get so far ahead?)

in spite of his… less than successful attempts to thwart these pesky thoughts and feelings from festering within, anaxagoras long since knew the irreversible truth brought by your appearance in his life — from the very first moment you bumped into him amid your haste, stray papers sent flying as the large leather-bound books thudded against the library floor. the less-than-flattering slew of words initally locked and loaded, ready to be spewed, oddly dissipated on the tip of his tongue the second he saw your frantic expression, hasty movements in re-gathering the strewn papers, and clumsy set of apologies spilling from your lips. it was almost trance-like, the manner in which he kneeled as he began to collect the flyaway papers surrounding him.

after returning them to you with a kindly, “who runs in a narrow hallway? watch where you’re going next time, you may not be so fortunate with the next collision,” anaxa naively thought that would be the end of that. he did not foresee running into you more frequently from thereafter, feeling strangely moved as a foreign warmth settled within every time you never failed to greet him with a beaming grin, eventually accompanied by the, dare he speculate after months upon months of pouring over and overanalysing your interactions, affectionate tone when calling his name. having been subject to the numerous days— weeks, even — spent listening to your attempts at correctly pronouncing his name, anaxa really should be immune to the effects. unfortunately for him, he could not be any further from the truth.

(anaxa chooses to ignore how he purposely nitpicked your pronunciation, extending the time spent teaching you how to do so just to hear you say his name a little more. not his proudest moment, but he finds it worth all the extra effort when you greet him as such, his name seamlessly rolling off your tongue coupled with your starry eyes and rapturing cadence as you ramble om about whatever caught your interest that day.)

perhaps he should have expected this outcome. after all, for someone who enjoys his solitude, anaxa has caught himself seeking you out on more occasions than deemed appropriate for mere acquaintances. no, not even friends would be this forefront. it was a predetermined outcome, anaxa deduces, the way in which your presence endlesslh draws him in like a shadow to a light— a moth to a flame.

if only to see your blinding smile directed towards and caused by him, anaxa supposes he wouldn't mind your nonsensical chatter replacing the usual white noise droning on in the background. for how long? well, for as long as he continues to breathe seems sufficient enough.

(you ought to stop entertaining some of those foolish scholars, however. they really are not worth wasting a second more than necessary on when he himself has far more knowledge and wit they do combined.)