#it's not immediately when I forget the assignment I just usually realize that when I go to check grades | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

enhaflixer · 3 months ago

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campus crush!sunghoon x f!reader

stats class. keep ur glasses on when u fuck me. statistical analysis with ur tongue. thats abt it. sunghoon word porn ngl ENHA HARD HOURS (kinda) 18+ MDNI

You're late. Again.

The digital clock on your phone reads 3:10 PM as you sprint across campus, your backpack bouncing against your spine with each step. Statistics seminar started ten minutes ago, and Professor Clarke has definitely noticed your absence by now. Not that it's unusual—you've made it a habit to burst through those doors at exactly ten minutes past, a whirlwind of apologies and bright smiles.

"Sorry, sorry!" you announce as you push open the computer lab door, slightly out of breath.

Twenty pairs of eyes swivel toward you, but Professor Clarke doesn't even look up from his laptop at the front of the room.

"How kind of you to join us," he says dryly. "We were just assigning semester project partners."

You flash him your most charming smile as you slide into an empty seat. "Perfect timing then."

A few people laugh. You've mastered the art of diffusing tension with humor, of making your tardiness seem like a quirky character trait rather than a genuine inability to manage time. It's gotten you this far in university.

"As I was saying," Professor Clarke continues, "this statistical analysis project will count for forty percent of your grade. You and your assigned partner will select a dataset, develop a hypothesis, and use STATA to analyze your findings." He gestures to the complex statistical software displayed on the projector screen—the same software that has been giving you nightmares since week one.

You glance around the room, hoping you'll be paired with Olivia or Zara—friends who wouldn't mind carrying the team if necessary. But when Professor Clarke reads off, "Sunghoon Park and..." followed by your name, your heart does something unexpected.

It skips.

You've noticed him before—it's hard not to. He always sits in the same spot three rows from the front, always arrives fifteen minutes early, always has his notebook open at the exact moment class begins.

What you haven't fully appreciated until now, as you turn to locate him in the room, is just how devastatingly handsome he is. His dark eyes find yours immediately behind stylish wire-rimmed glasses that give him an irresistible intellectual appeal. One corner of his perfectly shaped mouth lifts in the smallest acknowledgment, and a strand of black hair falls across his forehead when he nods at you. The combination of his reserved demeanor and model-worthy looks creates an effect that makes your stomach flip. He's the definition of a hot nerd—the kind that makes you temporarily forget about statistical analysis altogether and wonder what he'd look like with those glasses slightly askew, his usually perfect hair disheveled.

After partnering announcements finish, Professor Clarke instructs everyone to move next to their assigned partners to discuss project ideas.

You gather your things and make your way to Sunghoon's station, dropping into the chair beside him with dramatic flair.

"Fair warning," you say brightly, "I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing with this software. Like, none. Zero. Statistical analysis to me is deciding which café has the shortest queue."

You expect a sigh or a look of disappointment—it's what most serious students do when they realize they've been paired with you. Instead, Sunghoon's expression softens.

"It's okay," he says quietly, his voice carrying just a hint of an accent. "I'm... not an expert either."

"But you always look so focused during class," you say, gesturing to his immaculate notes.

He shrugs, the movement slight and controlled. "I write everything down. Doesn't mean I understand it all."

When he opens the STATA program and navigates through a few screens with apparent ease, you lean closer.

"Okay, so you're being modest. You definitely know more than I do."

"Barely," he admits, and you catch the faintest hint of a smile—not the polite one from before, but something genuine that makes you want to see it again. "I just know how to make it look like I know what I'm doing."

"That's an important life skill," you laugh, pulling your chair closer to see his screen better. "So what kind of data are we analyzing? Please say something fun like ice cream consumption versus happiness levels."

Sunghoon doesn't laugh, but his eyes crinkle slightly at the corners. "Actually," he says, "we can choose almost anything that interests us."

You bump his shoulder lightly with yours. "See? We're going to be great partners. I bring the wild ideas, you bring the common sense."

"Is that what they call it?" he asks, and there's a hint of playfulness in his voice that catches you off guard.

"What would you call it?" you challenge.

He considers for a moment, adjusting his glasses with a single finger pushed against the bridge. The gesture shouldn't be as attractive as it is. "Survival instinct."

You laugh, genuinely surprised. "So I'm dangerous?"

"No," he says, turning slightly to face you better. "Statistical software is dangerous. You're..." he pauses, seeming to search for the right word, "unpredictable."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"It was meant as one." The quiet confidence in his voice sends a small thrill through you.

Professor Clarke clears his throat at the front of the room. "I expect project proposals by the end of next week. Choose your dataset carefully—it will determine the scope of your entire project."

You glance at the clock. Only fifteen minutes of class remain.

"So, partner," you say, lowering your voice as Professor Clarke continues, "when should we meet to figure this out? I promise I'll try not to be ten minutes late."

Sunghoon's mouth quirks up at one corner. "Would you actually show up if I said 8 AM at the library?"

"Now you're just testing me," you whisper back.

"Coffee shop after class on Thursday?" he suggests instead, his voice equally quiet. "The one behind the science building?"

"Beans & Books? You've got good taste." You nod approvingly. "I practically live there between classes."

"I know," he says, then immediately looks as if he wishes he could take it back.

"You know?" You raise an eyebrow, intrigued and slightly pleased.

A faint color appears high on his cheekbones. "I've seen you there. You always order something different and then type furiously on your laptop."

The fact that he's noticed you before, observed your habits even, gives you a little flutter of satisfaction. "And what do you order, Sunghoon Park? Let me guess—plain black coffee, no sugar."

His eyebrows lift slightly. "Close. Earl Grey tea."

"Of course," you nod sagely. "Sophisticated."

When class ends, you gather your things slowly, suddenly reluctant to leave. Sunghoon stands, slinging his messenger bag across his chest in one smooth motion.

"Thursday, then," he says, as if confirming an important business meeting.

"It's a date," you reply with deliberate casualness, watching his reaction.

His expression remains mostly neutral, but you don't miss the quick blink, the slight pause before he nods. "For statistics," he clarifies, but the slight upturn of his lips betrays him.

"For statistics," you agree solemnly, though you're already wondering what other subjects you might explore together.

The coffee shop meeting goes surprisingly well. What you expected to be an hour of awkward dataset discussions turns into three hours of conversation that meanders far beyond statistics. Sunghoon, it turns out, has layers beneath his reserved exterior—he plays piano, reads philosophy for fun, and has a dry sense of humor that catches you off guard and makes you laugh harder than you have in weeks.

By the end of the evening, you've not only selected your dataset (coffee consumption versus academic performance—your suggestion, which he surprisingly agreed to), but you've also learned that his stammer appears when he's either nervous or passionate about a topic. You find both instances equally endearing.

When Friday's class rolls around, something shifts. You arrive only five minutes late (progress), and the space beside Sunghoon, which is usually empty, now seems to be waiting for you. You slide into the seat and he glances up from his notebook, the corner of his mouth lifting in that subtle way that's becoming familiar.

"You're almost on time," he says quietly, amusement in his eyes.

"Don't get used to it," you reply, but there's no bite to your words.

Throughout the class, your awareness of him is heightened—the way his brow furrows when he's concentrating, how his fingers tap thoughtfully against the desk when Professor Clarke asks a difficult question, the scent of his cologne when he leans closer to point something out on your screen.

After class, you find yourself hesitating as you pack up your things, watching as he meticulously organizes his notes.

"So," you begin, aiming for casual, "I was thinking... we should probably meet again this weekend to work on the project." You pause. "My roommate's gone for the weekend. We could use my dorm? Fewer distractions than the coffee shop."

Sunghoon looks up, his expression unreadable for a moment before he nods. "That would be... efficient."

You laugh at his choice of words. "Very statistical of you."

"I meant—" he starts, a hint of that stammer appearing.

"I know what you meant," you interrupt, grinning. "Saturday at four?"

He nods, adjusting his glasses. "I'll bring the data analysis. You bring the coffee."

"Deal."

Saturday arrives, and for the first time in your university career, you spend thirty minutes tidying your room before a study session. You tell yourself it's just basic courtesy, not because you care what Sunghoon thinks of your living space.

At precisely four o'clock, there's a knock at your door. Punctual as always.

You open it to find Sunghoon standing there in jeans and a simple button-down shirt, his laptop bag slung across his body. He's swapped his usual wire-frames for slightly thicker black glasses that somehow make him look even more attractive—scholarly but with an edge.

"You're making me look bad with this punctuality thing," you say by way of greeting, stepping aside to let him in.

"Sorry?" he offers, clearly unsure if he's actually done something wrong.

You laugh. "I'm joking. Come in."

Your dorm room is standard—bed, desk, small seating area with a loveseat and coffee table—but you've made it yours with art on the walls and plants on every available surface. Sunghoon takes it all in with curious eyes.

"I like your space," he says, and it sounds genuine.

"Thanks. Where should we set up? Desk or coffee table?"

"Either is fine," he says, that formal politeness still present even after your hours in the coffee shop.

You end up at the coffee table, sitting side by side on the loveseat, laptops open. For an hour, you actually make progress on the project. Sunghoon explains correlations in a way that finally makes sense, and you discover you have a talent for visualizing data in creative ways that makes his eyes light up with approval.

But as the afternoon wears on, the small space means your shoulders keep brushing, your knees occasionally touch, and each point of contact feels increasingly deliberate. When you reach for your coffee at the same moment he reaches for his tea, your hands collide, and neither of you pulls away immediately.

"Sorry," you both say at once, and then laugh.

"Great minds," you add, but you're distracted by how his eyes look behind those glasses, warm and focused entirely on you.

At some point, you shift positions, both of you turning toward each other to discuss a particularly complicated aspect of your analysis. Your knees are definitely touching now, and the loveseat suddenly seems much smaller than it did an hour ago.

"So if we compare these variables..." he's saying, but you're watching his mouth form the words more than listening to their meaning.

"Hmm?" you say, forcing your attention back to the screen.

He turns to look at you fully, and you realize how close your faces are. "You're not listening," he says, but there's no accusation in his voice.

"I'm distracted," you admit.

"By statistics?"

"By you."

The words hang in the air between you. Sunghoon blinks, his expression shifting from confusion to something more intense. He swallows visibly, and you watch the movement in his throat.

"I'm... distracting?" he asks, his voice lower than before.

"Extremely." Your eyes lock on his glasses, the way they frame his dark eyes, how they complete his devastatingly attractive intellectual look. "Especially with these on."

His eyebrows raise slightly in surprise. "The glasses?"

"God, yes," you breathe, moving closer. "You have no idea how fucking hot you look in them."

A flush spreads across his cheeks, but there's a new confidence in the way he holds your gaze. Without warning, he pulls you forward into a kiss that has nothing of his usual restraint. His laptop slides forgotten to the coffee table as you shift closer, and then somehow you're straddling his lap, your hands on either side of his face as you deepen the kiss.

When you break apart to breathe, his glasses are slightly askew. You straighten them gently, then run your fingers through his usually immaculate hair, deliberately messing it up while keeping the glasses perfectly in place.

"You're so sexy," you murmur against his mouth. "I've been thinking about this since the first day we were paired up."

His hands find your hips, holding you firmly against him. "I find that... statistically improbable," he manages, but his breathing is as uneven as yours.

"I'll show you improbable," you whisper, grinding down deliberately. His glasses fog slightly from the heat between you, and the sight sends a thrill through your body. "So fucking hot," you repeat, unable to stop yourself.

His hands slide beneath your shirt, exploring with a surprising boldness that makes you gasp. "We should—" he starts, breathing heavily.

“Yes,” you agree, already pulling him up from the loveseat, walking backwards toward your bed while keeping his mouth on yours. “The project can definitely wait.”

You fall back onto the mattress, pulling him down with you, careful not to knock his glasses off as he hovers above you. They’ve fogged again from the heat between your bodies, and something about that sight—this controlled, precise man coming undone while still looking every bit the hot intellectual—pushes you past any remaining hesitation.

“Leave them on,” you insist when he reaches to remove his glasses. “Please.”

His lips curve into a smile that’s nothing like his usual restrained expressions—this one is knowing, almost wicked. “If that’s what you want,” he murmurs, lowering his mouth to your neck.

“It’s definitely what I want,” you gasp as his teeth graze your skin. “Along with… everything else.”

There’s a playful air to each touch, a slow building of tension as you both start to peel away layers. You tug at the hem of his shirt first, sliding it up inch by tantalizing inch until he lifts his arms to help you pull it off. He returns the favor by slipping a hand under your blouse, fingertips teasing over your ribs. Every time he tries to hasten the pace, you grin and slow him down, dragging the fabric just a bit more before letting it fall away, leaving him momentarily breathless. The sound he makes—caught somewhere between a groan and a laugh—sends a thrill through you.

Time seems to blur as clothing is discarded piece by piece, inhibitions falling away with each new revelation of skin. The afternoon sunlight filters through your curtains, casting everything in a warm glow.

At some point, you find yourself above him, both of you completely bare except for his glasses, which have somehow remained perfectly in place despite everything. You pause for a moment, taking in the sight of him beneath you—all lean muscle and flushed skin, those wire-rimmed glasses still perched on his nose, slightly fogged from the heat between your bodies.

“You’re staring,” he whispers, a vulnerability in his voice despite the intimate position.

“Can you blame me?” You lean down, placing a gentle kiss on his lips, then another, and another, each one growing more insistent. “God, look at you.”

His hands find your hips, steadying you as you continue to kiss him, his glasses occasionally bumping against your face in a way that only heightens your desire. There's something impossibly erotic about him being completely naked except for those glasses—the contrast between his exposed body and that one remnant of his studious, put-together appearance.

"You're so fucking sexy," you breathe against his mouth. "How does anyone focus in that statistics class with you sitting there looking like this?"

He laughs softly, the sound vibrating against your lips. "I could ask you the same question."

Your kisses become more urgent, your bodies moving together with increasing need. The heat between you builds with each touch, each whispered encouragement. Sunghoon's usually careful movements grow bolder, more instinctive, as your hands explore each other's bodies. His glasses, still perfectly perched on his nose, begin to fog at the edges first—just a light mist that catches the dim light of your room. But as your passion intensifies, as your breathing grows more ragged and synchronized, the lenses cloud completely.

When you pull back to look at him, you can't help but laugh softly at the sight—this brilliantly composed man now completely blinded by the evidence of your shared desire, those glasses that make him look so irresistibly intellectual now rendered useless by the heat radiating between your bodies. To your surprise, he laughs too—not the polite chuckle you've heard in class or the soft amusement from your coffee shop conversations, but a genuine, uninhibited sound that seems to come from somewhere deep inside him. It's rich and warm and completely unguarded.

"I can't see a thing," he admits, his voice husky with desire and amusement. His hands find your face despite his temporary blindness, thumbs tracing your cheekbones with unexpected precision. "But I don't need to see to know exactly where you are."

"Is that so?" you challenge, your breath catching as his fingers trail down your neck, across your collarbone, mapping you with deliberate attention.

"I've been studying you," he murmurs, his touch making you shiver despite the heat between you. "Memorizing. Analyzing patterns." His hands continue their exploration, finding every sensitive spot with remarkable accuracy. "It's very... statistical."

You laugh against his mouth. "Only you could make statistics sound sexy."

Through the fogged lenses, you can just barely make out how his eyes darken at your words. "I have other statistical terms I could demonstrate," he offers, surprising you again with his boldness. His accent becomes slightly more pronounced when he's like this—another detail you've grown to cherish.

"Show me," you whisper, and he does—his hands and mouth conducting a thorough analysis of cause and effect, of stimuli and response, until you're clutching at his shoulders and gasping his name. All while those fogged-up glasses remain perfectly in place, the final vestige of his composed exterior while everything else between you unravels into glorious chaos.

You’re already bare beneath him, skin flushed from teasing and anticipation, but the only thing still clinging to his body—those damn glasses—make it so much worse. Or better. Definitely better.

Sunghoon hovers over you, gaze dark behind the lenses, lips swollen and slightly parted as he takes in the sight of you. You should be embarrassed at how wanton you must look, legs spread for him, body already trembling, but he’s the one who looks wrecked. His composure is gone, shattered somewhere between the desperate kisses and the way you dragged your nails down his back.

His lips quirk. “Still want me to leave them on?”

“Don’t even think about taking them off.”

His smile turns wicked, and then he’s moving—kissing, sucking, trailing his mouth down your body with purpose. His fingers dig into your thighs, spreading you wider, and then he’s right there—close enough that you can feel the ghost of his breath against you, the heat of it making your stomach clench.

He doesn’t start slow. No teasing, no light flicks of his tongue just to test the waters. Sunghoon eats you like he’s been starving for this, like he’s been waiting for the moment he could taste you, drown in you. His tongue is hot and relentless, curling against you just right, pressing where you need him most, sending shockwaves through every nerve in your body.

But what really undoes you is the feeling of his glasses pressing against your inner thighs, the cold metal contrasting with the heat of his mouth. Every time he moves, every time he adjusts his angle, the frames shift against your skin—slightly rough, slightly smooth, a reminder of exactly who is between your legs and how absolutely ruined he’s making you.

You fist the sheets, hips jerking up into his mouth, but he pins you down effortlessly, a strong arm wrapped around your thigh to keep you exactly where he wants you. He groans when you tug at his hair, the vibrations shooting through you, making you gasp his name.

“Fuck, Sunghoon—”

His response is a low hum against your clit, and your whole body shakes. You feel the damp heat of his breath, the slick slide of his tongue, but more than anything, you feel the weight of those goddamn glasses as they drag along your skin, fogging up even more, smudging against your inner thigh every time he moves deeper, harder, sloppier.

The sheer filth of it makes you clench around nothing.

Sunghoon notices, because of course he does—because he’s been studying you this whole time, memorizing what makes you gasp, what makes your thighs tremble around his head. And he’s smug about it, too, because when he pulls back just enough to glance up at you, lips glistening, glasses just barely slipping down his nose, he smirks.

“You like that, don’t you?” His voice is raspy, breathless, wrecked.

You don’t even try to deny it. “Yes—God, yes, don’t stop.”

Sunghoon’s smirk deepens, and he doesn’t make you beg for it. He dives right back in, tongue flicking, sucking, his grip on your thighs tightening as you lose yourself completely. The drag of his glasses, the precise way he adjusts his angle to push you higher, the way he groans into you like he’s getting off on this just as much as you are—it’s too much.

The coil in your stomach snaps hard, pleasure crashing over you so intensely that you barely realize you’re pulling at his hair, moaning his name like a prayer, like you might fall apart completely if he stops.

Sunghoon doesn’t stop. Not right away. He works you through the aftershocks, his tongue slow, methodical, lazy in a way that makes you shudder from overstimulation. Only when your body twitches beneath him does he finally pull away, chin glistening, glasses fucking ruined.

You’re still gasping when he crawls back up your body, hovering over you, his mouth right there, his glasses so close you can see the way they’re fogged-up and smudged with sweat.

When you finally collapse beside each other, spent and satisfied, his glasses are askew once more. You reach over to straighten them, and he catches your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm.

"So," you say, when you've caught your breath, "should we tell Professor Clarke we've found an interesting correlation to study?"

Sunghoon laughs, the sound free and unrestrained in a way you hadn't heard before today. "I don't think this is what he had in mind for the assignment."

"His loss," you murmur, snuggling closer. "I'd say our statistical analysis was very... thorough."

"We should probably actually work on the project at some point," he says, but makes no move to get up.

"Tomorrow," you promise, running a finger along his jawline. "I think we need to collect more data first."

His eyebrow raises above the rim of his glasses. "For the sake of academic integrity?"

"Absolutely," you agree solemnly, before dissolving into laughter.

The statistics of probability have never been so compelling.

Over the next few weeks, your statistics class takes on an entirely new dimension. What was once your least favorite part of the week has become the highlight—not because you've suddenly developed a passion for data analysis, but because of the subtle dance that unfolds between you and Sunghoon twice a week in that computer lab.

The Monday after your "study session," you arrive to class five minutes early—a personal record. Sunghoon is already there, of course, and the moment he sees you, his ears turn slightly pink. When you slide into the seat next to him, now officially your spot, he gives you a small smile that feels like a secret.

"You're early," he says, his voice low enough that only you can hear.

"I had motivation," you reply, letting your knee brush against his under the desk.

His eyes flicker to your lips for a fraction of a second before returning to his notebook. "I hope it wasn't just for... statistical analysis."

"Depends on how you define statistics," you whisper just as Professor Clarke calls the class to order.

Throughout the lecture, you're acutely aware of every movement Sunghoon makes—how he adjusts his glasses when he's thinking, the precise way he takes notes, the occasional glance he throws your way when he thinks you're not looking. Halfway through class, you deliberately drop your pen between you. When you both reach for it, your fingers touch, and he doesn't pull away. Instead, he hooks his pinky finger over yours for just a moment before handing you the pen. The small gesture sends a flutter through your chest.

After class, you walk together to the coffee shop without needing to discuss it. Somehow, it's already become your routine.

"How's the dataset compilation going?" he asks as you find a small table in the corner.

"That's what you want to talk about right now? Really?" You raise an eyebrow.

A faint smile plays at his lips. "We do have a project due in three weeks."

"Always so responsible," you sigh dramatically, but there's fondness in your voice. "It's going fine. I've got the coffee consumption survey data from about fifty students so far."

He nods approvingly. "That's a decent sample size for our purposes."

When your drinks arrive—his Earl Grey and your excessively complicated latte—you notice something different about him. He's still quiet, still thoughtful, but there's a new ease to his movements, a softness around his eyes when he looks at you.

"What?" he asks, catching you studying him.

"Nothing," you say, then reconsider. "Actually, not nothing. You seem... different."

He takes a sip of his tea, considering. "I feel different," he admits after a moment. "With you."

The simple sincerity of his words catches you off guard. For all your flirtatious confidence, his straightforward honesty disarms you completely.

"Good different?" you ask, suddenly feeling shy.

"Very good different," he confirms, and beneath the table, his foot rests against yours. Not by accident.

By the third week, you've fallen into patterns that blend the academic with the intimate. Your Tuesday and Thursday afternoons are devoted to actual project work—usually in the library where the public setting keeps you reasonably focused.

Your Saturday “study sessions” in your dorm room are significantly less productive in the statistical sense, though you joke that you’re certainly collecting plenty of data on other variables.

Sunghoon rolls his eyes every time you say it, but you know he loves it—loves how eager, how shameless you are when it comes to him. Because every time you spread your legs for him, every time you drag him into another compromising position, he never tells you no.

Case Study #1: The Textbooks

It starts with an innocent enough setup—Sunghoon sitting cross-legged on the floor, back against your bed, flipping through a statistics textbook while you sit across from him, pretending to study. But it’s boring. He looks too good in his glasses, sleeves rolled up, the slightest furrow in his brow as he concentrates. And before you even realize you’re moving, you’re crawling into his lap, straddling him right there on top of the book.

He barely has time to exhale your name before you sink down onto him, making both of you groan.

The hardcover digs into your knees, the pages creasing beneath you, but you couldn’t care less. Sunghoon is buried inside you, stretching you open, warm and deep and perfect, and the only data you’re analyzing is how his breath stutters when you roll your hips just right.

“Fuck, you’re unreal—” he pants, hands gripping your waist, watching you through the slightly fogged lenses of his glasses as you use him, ride him slow, grind on him like you want to ruin him.

You do. You want to wreck him just as much as he’s wrecking you. The friction, the delicious drag, the way his hands squeeze your hips to urge you to go faster, harder—it all shreds your self-control.

By the time you both come undone, gasping and clinging to each other, the textbook beneath you is thoroughly creased, sticky, ruined. Neither of you even bother looking at it.

Case Study #2: The Desk Chair

Another Saturday, another useless attempt at studying.

Sunghoon’s seated at your desk this time, one leg lazily spread, hand bracing his forehead as he tries to focus. But you’re kneeling between his legs, and the moment you reach for his zipper, his entire body tenses.

“You’re insatiable.”

“And?” You tug his pants down just enough to free him, palming his length, watching him harden in your hand as his breathing turns shallow.

He leans back, exhaling sharply when your lips part and you take him deep. His hand finds the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair as you swirl your tongue around him, tease him, make him fall apart.

His glasses slip down his nose as he watches you, half-lidded and dazed, jaw slack as you take him deeper, sucking, hollowing your cheeks, making obscene little noises that drive him insane.

He trembles when he finally spills down your throat, groaning your name, head thrown back against the chair.

And the moment he catches his breath, he drags you into his lap, flips you onto the desk, and fucks you stupid.

Case Study #3: Against the Window

Another week. Another “study session.” Another location.

This time, you find yourself pressed against the glass of your dorm window, palms splayed, breath fogging the pane as Sunghoon pounds into you from behind.

The curtains are open.

You don’t know if anyone can see—if someone walking by on the street below can look up and spot your bare body, the lewd way you’re bent over, Sunghoon’s hands gripping your hips as he drives into you with punishing force.

But you don’t care.

All you care about is the way he grunts into your ear, his glasses slightly askew, one hand slipping down to rub your clit, making you jerk and gasp his name as pleasure crashes over you like a tidal wave.

“Keep your eyes open,” he growls, voice thick with lust, dragging his lips along your shoulder. “Look outside. Look at what a mess you are.”

Case Study #4: The Shower

It’s late, and you should be asleep. But instead, you’re pressed up against the tiled wall of your tiny dorm shower, water scalding hot, steam curling around you as Sunghoon lifts you up, holds you against him, and fucks you slow, deep.

His glasses are gone, finally.

They’d fogged up the moment he stepped into the shower, and the second you’d made a joke about it, he’d taken them off and set them on the sink. But you don’t miss them too much—not when his mouth is on your throat, sucking bruises into your wet skin, not when his fingers dig into your thighs, keeping you in place as he rolls his hips into you with exquisite precision.

You come twice before you finally stumble out of the shower, exhausted, dripping, completely spent.

And the moment you walk back into your dorm room, still naked, Sunghoon picks up his glasses, slides them back on, and gives you a look that tells you he’s nowhere near finished with you.

Case Study #5: The Floor (Again, Because You Can’t Stop)

At this point, you don’t even make it to the bed.

You’re both desperate, panting, **clawing at each other like you can’t stand the idea of being apart for another second.**The moment Sunghoon pushes you onto the floor, you’re already wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him down, gasping when he fills you in one smooth thrust.

It’s fast, dirty, messy.

He grits out your name, one hand bracing beside your head, the other gripping your thigh, holding you open as he slams into you, pace brutal, relentless. The carpet burns on your back will be worth it.

He loses his glasses at some point, but you don’t even notice—you’re too busy coming apart beneath him, clawing at his back, moaning his name like you’ll never get enough of him.

Maybe you won’t.

Because the second you catch your breath, still tangled up in him, you’re already thinking about where you’ll fuck next.

What surprises you most is how much you enjoy both versions of your time together. The project, which should be tedious, becomes engaging through Sunghoon's perspective. He has a way of finding patterns in chaos that makes even the driest data seem fascinating. And through your influence, he's learning to approach problems more creatively, to see beyond the rigid frameworks he's always relied on.

"What if we visualize it this way instead?" you suggest one Tuesday, sketching a completely unorthodox chart on the margin of his meticulously organized notes.

His initial reaction is skepticism—you can see it in the slight furrow of his brow—but he considers it longer than he would have three weeks ago.

"It's unconventional," he says finally.

"But?"

"But it might actually work better for presenting the correlation," he concedes, and the smile you give him is so bright it makes the student at the next table look over.

In class, Professor Clarke notices the change in both of you. Your questions become more insightful, Sunghoon's responses more animated. When you present your initial findings mid-semester, the professor actually seems impressed by your unusual approach to visualization.

"An interesting methodology," he comments, adjusting his own glasses in a way that reminds you of Sunghoon. "Unorthodox, but effective."

You beam at Sunghoon, who ducks his head slightly but can't hide his pleased expression.

After class, he catches your hand as you're packing up—a gesture he would never have initiated before.

"We make a good team," he says quietly.

"The best," you agree, squeezing his fingers before reluctantly letting go. Public displays still make him slightly uncomfortable, and you respect his boundaries.

It's during a rainy Friday evening in your dorm room, six weeks into your relationship (though neither of you has officially labeled it as such), that something shifts again.

You're sprawled on your bed with your laptop, Sunghoon sitting at your desk reviewing your latest statistical findings, his glasses reflecting the blue light of the screen. Classical music plays softly from his phone—another new development. He's been gradually introducing you to his favorite composers, and you've found you actually enjoy the background music while working.

"Your scatterplot is missing a data point," he says, turning to look at you.

"Mmm, probably deleted it accidentally," you reply, not looking up from your position. "Is it important?"

"All data points are important," he says, but there's amusement in his voice rather than criticism.

You roll onto your back, laptop balanced on your stomach. "That sounds like something that would be on a statistics department t-shirt. 'All data points matter.'"

He laughs—a sound that's become less rare but no less thrilling to hear. "I'd wear it."

"Of course you would," you tease. "With your glasses and a pocket protector."

He makes a face at you. "I don't own a pocket protector."

"Yet," you add with a grin.

He shakes his head, turning back to the screen, but you catch the smile he tries to hide. After a moment, he speaks again without looking at you.

"My parents want to meet you."

You sit up so quickly your laptop nearly slides off your stomach. "What?"

Now he turns, his expression a mixture of nervousness and something softer. "I mentioned you during our weekly call. Multiple times, apparently. My mother... noticed."

"You talk about me to your parents?" You can't keep the pleased surprise from your voice.

He adjusts his glasses, a gesture you now recognize as his tell when he's feeling vulnerable. "It seems I do."

"What do you tell them?" You set your laptop aside, giving him your full attention.

"That you're brilliant in ways I'm not. That you see solutions I miss." He pauses. "That you make statistics class the best part of my week."

Your heart does that skipping thing it did the first day Professor Clarke paired you together, only stronger now.

"Sunghoon Park," you say softly, "are you saying I'm statistically significant to you?"

His expression turns serious, though his eyes remain gentle. "With a p-value approaching zero," he replies, and though it's phrased as a joke, his tone makes it clear it's anything but.

In statistics, a p-value approaching zero indicates an extremely high likelihood that an observed effect is real and not due to chance. It's the closest thing to certainty that statistics allows.

You cross the room to where he sits, gently taking his face between your hands. His glasses are slightly smudged, and you resist the urge to clean them, focusing instead on the eyes behind them.

"So," you say, "when do I meet these parents who raised such a statistically significant nerd?"

He laughs, pulling you into his lap in a move that would have seemed impossibly bold from him just weeks ago. "They're visiting next weekend. Dinner on Saturday?"

"I'm there," you promise, sealing it with a kiss.

The day of your semester project presentation arrives with an unexpected lack of anxiety. You're prepared—more prepared than you've been for any academic presentation in your life. Partly because the subject has actually become interesting to you, but mostly because working on it meant spending hours with Sunghoon.

You stand beside him at the front of the class, watching him explain your methodology with a confidence that wasn't there at the beginning of the semester. His voice is still quiet, still measured, but there's a strength behind it now, an assurance that comes from truly understanding his material. When he gestures to your creative visualization on the screen, there's a hint of pride in his voice that makes your chest warm.

When it's your turn to present, you catch him watching you with undisguised admiration. You explain the correlations you found between different types of coffee consumption and various academic performance metrics, throwing in jokes that make the class laugh and complex statistical terms that make Professor Clarke nod approvingly.

"And in conclusion," you finish, "we found that while caffeine consumption generally correlates with improved academic performance up to a point, the type of environment in which the coffee is consumed may be an equally significant factor."

"Furthermore," Sunghoon adds, stepping forward to stand beside you, shoulder to shoulder, "we discovered that the companionship variable—whether students studied alone or with others—showed the strongest positive correlation with both satisfaction and performance outcomes."

His eyes meet yours for a brief moment, and you know he's not just talking about the data anymore.

When Professor Clarke gives your presentation an A and commends your "complementary analytical approaches," you resist the urge to high-five Sunghoon in front of everyone. Instead, you wait until you're outside the building, then throw your arms around him in celebration.

To your surprise, he lifts you slightly off the ground in his enthusiasm, spinning once before setting you down, his face flushed with excitement and mild embarrassment at his own uncharacteristic display.

"We did it," he says, adjusting his glasses which were knocked askew by your hug.

"Was there ever any doubt?" you reply, reaching up to straighten them properly. "We're statistically significant, remember?"

His smile softens, and right there on the path outside the statistics building, with students streaming past on their way to other classes, he kisses you without hesitation or self-consciousness.

"What was that for?" you ask when he pulls away, delighted but surprised by the public display.

"I've been collecting data," he says, his eyes crinkling behind those glasses you've grown to love, "and I've formed a hypothesis."

"Oh?" You raise an eyebrow. "And what hypothesis is that, Mr. Park?"

He takes your hand, lacing his fingers through yours as you begin walking toward the coffee shop that's become your place.

"That I'm in love with you," he says simply. "And unlike most statistical conclusions, I'm one hundred percent certain."

You stop walking, turning to face him fully. "That's a bold statistical claim. Absolute certainty is rare in your field."

"I have compelling evidence," he counters, and the confidence in his voice, so different from the hesitant student you met months ago, makes your heart race.

"I might need to review your data," you tease, though your voice catches slightly.

"Extensive observation over time," he begins, stepping closer. "Consistent results across multiple variables. Reproducible effects." His voice drops lower. "Significant positive impact on all quality-of-life metrics."

"Very scientific," you murmur, your hands finding their way to his chest.

"I thought so," he agrees, his eyes serious despite the playful exchange. "So my conclusion stands."

You rise on your tiptoes, pressing your forehead to his. "Well, as someone who's conducted a parallel study, I can confirm your findings. The evidence suggests I'm in love with you too."

His smile, rare and full, lights up his entire face. "Independently verified results. The best kind."

“Should we celebrate this breakthrough with coffee?” you suggest, already knowing his answer.

“I was thinking maybe we skip the coffee today,” he says, surprising you again. “I have other hypotheses I’d like to test.”

“Professor Clarke would be shocked at your dedication to statistical research,” you laugh, letting him lead you in the direction of your dorm instead of the coffee shop.

“Some variables,” he says with newfound confidence, “are worth studying in depth.”

You lean in close, pressing your lips right against the shell of his ear, and whisper the kind of filth that would make even the most shameless person blush.

“Then why don’t you pin me down the second we walk through that door, shove your face between my legs, and eat me so fucking good I forget my own name? And when I can’t take anymore, you’ll flip me over and fuck me like you’re trying to imprint yourself inside me—deep, rough, until I’m crying and drooling on the sheets, too dumb to do anything but take it.”

Sunghoon stops breathing.

You feel the exact moment your words hit him—his entire body locks up, his grip on your wrist tightens, his jaw clenches so hard you swear you hear his teeth grind.

His glasses fog immediately.

A strangled noise escapes him, something between a curse and a choked groan, and then he’s moving.

Not just moving—dragging you, fast, purposeful, like a man on a mission.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters under his breath, voice wrecked, dangerous, and it sends a thrill straight through you.

By the time you reach your dorm, he’s already reaching for the door handle, barely keeping himself together, and the second it clicks shut behind you—

You know he’s about to make good on every single word you just whispered.

That, by any metric, was statistically significant indeed.

TL: @ziiao @beariegyu @seonhoon @somuchdard @naurwayyyyy @bloomiize @zzhengyu @annybah @ijustwannareadstuff20 @ddolleri @elairah @dreamy-carat @geniejunn @kristynaaah @zoemeltigloos @mellowgalaxystrawberry @inlovewithningning @vveebee @m3wkledreamy @lovelycassy @highway-143 @koizekomi @tiny-shiny @simbabyikeu @cristy-101 @dearestdreamies @enhaverse713586 @cybe4 @starniras @wonuziex

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thepencilnerd · 2 months ago

Text

Anatomy of Want

summary: Jack Abbot never thought he'd be this undone over a resident. But you were unlike anyone he'd met—brilliant under pressure, quick on your feet, and impossible to ignore. What begins as admiration quickly becomes something deeper, something that simmers beneath every shared shift, until it threatens to boil over. warnings/notes: 18+ MDNI, age gap, slow burn, mutual pining, jealousy, praise kink, shameless smut, oral sex (f&m receiving), body worship, depictions of war scars, literally just an excuse to write jack abbot smut & you kissing his scars bc that man lives in my head rent free wc: 5.4k a/n: forgot i posted this on ao3 but not here :}

You joined the night shift in a flurry of quiet confidence and dazzling competence, and Jack noticed you immediately. It wasn’t just the way you handled patient load like clockwork, or how you navigated the trauma bay with a calm assurance usually reserved for seasoned attendings. It was the way you asked questions, the way you looked at problems sideways, the way you never folded, even when things got messy.

He told himself he was just impressed. That it was his responsibility, as your mentor, to push you. And he did—assigned you the trickiest cases, brought you into every complicated intubation, every crashing patient. You rose to each occasion like you'd been waiting for it, and Jack couldn't stop himself from watching.

"Nice call on that bleed in bay three," he said one night, as you stripped off your gloves, blood spattered on your gown. "You didn’t hesitate."

You shrugged, a wry smile on your lips. "Wasn't much time to, I could've acted faster."

He looked at you a beat longer than necessary. "Take the win, Dr. L/N."

That was how it went for months. Shifts passed in a rhythm he hadn’t felt in years. He trusted you. Relied on you. Admired you, yes, but more than that. There were moments—lingering looks across trauma bays, soft laughs shared over half-spilled coffee at 3 a.m., casual brushes of your hands when passing charts that lingered a beat too long.

Once, when you struggled with a stubborn intubation, he’d leaned in close, murmuring, "You've got this," low enough that it was meant just for you. His hand steadied your elbow, brief but grounding. You’d nailed the tube placement. He’d smiled the whole rest of the shift.

After the harder nights, he started climbing to the roof again. The first time he found you there—legs dangling off the ledge, coffee in hand, still in scrubs—he thought it was coincidence.

It wasn’t.

"Couldn't sleep either?" you'd said without looking at him, voice soft with exhaustion.

He didn’t answer right away. Just sat beside you, shoulder brushing yours.

You didn’t say much after that. Neither did he. Just silence, and the hum of the city below, and a sense of belonging he hadn’t realized he’d been missing.

Some nights, you’d pass a bag of vending machine pretzels back and forth in companionable quiet. Other nights, you'd trade war stories—the worst consults, the craziest saves—your voices low, private, confessions to the stars.

It was easy. Natural. Dangerous.

Jack tried to tell himself it didn’t mean anything. That it was just friendship. Just exhaustion.

But then there were the nights he caught himself watching you laugh at something small, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, and his chest tightened with something he couldn’t name.

The tension built slowly, like pressure behind a dam.

Then came the morning you were signing out charts at the nurse’s station, still in your scrubs and rubbing at a bruise forming on your shoulder. Samira Mohan breezed in, bright-eyed, coffee in hand.

"Don’t forget," she said, pulling up beside you. "8pm tonight. David from anesthesia."

"Shit." You'd totally blanked. "I almost forgot, I'm sorry."

"You’re gonna be great," she assured. "He’s nice. And hot. Like... surgery hot."

You couldn't help the snort that escaped you. "What do I even wear? It’s been so long. I bought that one thing..."

Samira's eyes lit up. "Oh, the black lace set?"

"Samira!" Your hands flew up to cover her mouth, cheeks pink and lips pressed tight. "Keep your voice down!" The words came out tight.

"It’s classy!" she laughed, prying your hands off her mouth. "I stand by it. Black is always a good call."

Neither of you noticed Jack at the far end of the nurses' station, flipping through charts but not actually reading them.

He stood there longer than he needed to. Long enough to hear about the date. Long enough to hear about the lingerie. Long enough for his mind to start betraying him—already picturing you in it, delicate black lace against your skin, curves he'd only admired from a respectful distance until now. He wasn't sure whether he'd be more desperate to tear it off you with his hands or his teeth.

And something in him shifted. Just a little. But enough to curl his fingers tighter around the chart in his hands, to clench his jaw until it ached. You sounded hesitant, unsure, nervous in a way that didn’t track with the woman who could crack a diagnosis under pressure without breaking a sweat.

He heard the waver in your voice when you said, "I’m just… worried," and it rang in his head like bolded text. Jack knew you too well not to read between the lines. You weren’t worried about the guy—you were worried because someone else already occupied your mind.

And damn it, he wanted nothing more than for it to be him.

He didn’t want anyone else to be close to you like that. Not because he thought you needed protecting, but because he’d never met someone whose mind, whose hands, whose presence made him feel like maybe—just maybe—he could let someone in again.

Samira nudged you with her elbow, oblivious to the ripple effect her words had left in their wake. "Go home, take a nap, put on something that makes you feel good, and just... have fun, okay? It's your first night off in weeks—you deserve to enjoy it."

You hesitated, biting your lip. "I don't know... it's been a while. What if it's awkward? What if I forgot how to do this?"

She grinned like the devil herself. "You don't forget. It's like muscle memory. Besides, you’re hot. And smart. And wearing black lace. You'll be fine."

You laughed weakly, dropping your voice. "It's just... first date sex? After a dry spell? I feel like I'll crash and burn."

Samira waggled her eyebrows. "Best way to crash. Trust me."

A snap echoed through the room—the sharp, unmistakable crack of plastic breaking.

You and Samira both glanced up.

Jack bent calmly, retrieved the shattered halves of a pen from the floor, and tucked them into his pocket like nothing had happened.

You blinked. Samira blinked. Then shrugged and kept talking.

"Go have fun," she repeated, nudging you again. "Tonight's about you. No pressure, no expectations. Just... have a good time."

You nodded, though your heart wasn't in it. The twist in your stomach wasn't nerves about the date.

It was the thought of someone else entirely.

You smiled weakly and nodded, though your stomach twisted in ways that had nothing to do with nerves and everything to do with someone else entirely.

On your way out, you passed Jack by the charting station, offered him a quiet, "See you on Monday, Dr. Abbot." He gave you a tight-lipped smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Eight o’clock rolled around faster than you expected.

You stood outside the restaurant, already regretting your decision. The lace set beneath your outfit felt less like a confidence boost and more like a secret that didn’t belong to this version of the night. Still, you squared your shoulders and walked in, searching the tables until you saw a man wave—clean cut, kind smile, textbook charming.

David was, by all accounts, exactly what Samira had described. Funny, intelligent, a bit pretentious, but typical for your average resident. He complimented your dress. Asked about your shift schedule. Talked about scuba diving in Belize, his past summer at his parent's beach house.

But your smile stopped at your cheeks. You laughed at the right moments. You answered questions politely. And every so often, your mind wandered back to a different voice—rougher, lower, more familiar.

You thought of Jack’s dry wit. The way he tucked his hands into his scrub pockets when he was thinking. The sound of his laugh, more of a chuckle, rare but always sincere. The heat in his gaze when he really looked at you, like he was trying to hear what colors tinted your thoughts.

You forced yourself back to the conversation with rapid blinks, nodding at whatever David was saying about residency rotations and placements. He was nice. He really was.

So why did you feel like you were somewhere you didn’t belong?

Maybe it was the way David's hand reached for yours across the table, smooth and tentative, and how you instinctively pulled back before you could stop yourself. It wasn’t rude—just reflex. It didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel familiar.

Not like Jack’s hands—callused and warm—when they’d guided your wrist during your first real incision, steadying your nerves with his quiet presence. His grip had been firm, reassuring. You could still remember the way his fingers curled gently but purposefully around yours, the scent of antiseptic and adrenaline in the air.

David’s hand was too small. Too soft. Too unsure. There was no strength in it. No certainty. No experience.

God you were going insane.

"Sorry," you exhaled, offering him a polite smile. But your attention was already drifting, your eyes drawn to a familiar silhouette across the room.

Salt and pepper curls caught the neon light just right. Jack Abbot stood at the far end of the bar, one hand wrapped around a beer, the other resting on the wood tabletop, eyes cast toward the floor—until he looked up.

And found you.

Your breath caught. The background noise dulled to static. For a suspended moment, the two of you just stared. Time slowed. Jack didn’t blink. He didn’t look away.

He didn’t have to.

You felt it in your gut—the electric pull of something intangible.

David started talking again, but it was white noise. The clink of a glass, the hum of conversation, all drowned out by the weight of that look, of Jack watching you like you were the only person in the room.

And suddenly, you were.

You raised your wine glass slowly, holding his gaze as you took a sip. Jack mirrored you, bringing his beer to his lips with a quiet intensity that made your chest tighten. The silence stretched between you like a live wire.

Fingers tightening around the stem, you set your glass down with a little too much force, feigning a glance at your phone as if a sudden messaged had triggered a vibration. "Shit, it's an emergency," you lied, offering a rushed, apologetic smile. "Something came up at the hospital. I have to go. I'm so sorry."

David looked disappointed, but nodded, ever the gentleman. "Of course! Rain check?"

A small, apologetic smile tugged at your lips as you rose, shrugging into your coat. Pulse pounding in your ears, you threaded your way through the maze of tables, slipping out the door with a tight exhale.

Behind you, the scrape of a barstool echoed a second later—quick, deliberate.

Out in the cool night air, you rounded the corner into the alley beside the building, your breath misting as you leaned against the brick wall. The adrenaline had only just begun to settle in your bloodstream when you heard the trailing of familiar footsteps.

Jack Abbot appeared a moment later, turning the corner with his hands outstretched, his brow furrowed like he wasn’t sure what he was doing there until his eyes found yours.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice low. He shifted closer to you, arms now crossed.

You nodded. "Yeah. I just... needed air."

A pause. Eyes dipped, then lifted again, something unspoken skating between you.

You cleared your throat. "How was your evening?"

Jack blinked at the pivot, letting it settle between you. "Uneventful."

"What were you doing at that bar?" you asked, an arch to your brow that softened the tension.

He allowed himself a grin, shoulders relaxing just slightly. "It’s my usual spot. Popular with the old folks."

"Samira did say it had a vintage charm to it when she picked it out," you replied with a smirk.

Jack scoffed at the poke at his age, making both of you laugh.

"Alright then," he countered, eyes narrowing with a spark of mischief. "What were you doing there?"

You hesitated, then exhaled a slow breath. "Ruining my chances of settling down."

His expression flickered.

"What?" You gave a half-laugh, smile twisted with self-deprecation. "Isn't that the whole point of dating as a doctor? Just a long game of figuring out how emotionally unavailable I still am and forever will be?"

Abbot sighed, long and quiet, like it came from somewhere deeper than just the moment.

You tilted your head slightly, watching him, curiosity tugging at your features. "Were you… waiting on someone?"

That gave him pause.

Jack stilled. The corner of his mouth twitched—not quite a frown, not quite a smile. His gaze didn’t meet yours at first. He looked past you, to the mouth of the alley, like the answer might be written in the shadows or the neon lights beyond. Like if he stalled long enough, you might forget you asked.

"Not exactly," he started, voice rougher than usual.

You lifted a brow.

He exhaled again, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. "I didn’t come here for that. But when I saw you…" He trailed off, eyes finally locking onto yours. "Guess I started waiting."

Your breath caught. The weight of his words settled in your chest—slow and warm and heavy. Something about the way he said it made it feel less like a confession and more like an inevitability.

He’d been waiting. Watching. Wanting. The same way you’d been tiptoeing around the truth since you'd stepped foot into that ER—since the very first time your fingers brushed as he passed you a chart, since the first time your eyes met across the trauma bay, since that first quiet moment together on the roof.

With the dim alley light casting soft gold between you, something gave. Tension melted into gravity, and gravity into pull, pull into a quiet explosion. You stepped forward just as he did, meeting in the middle, neither of you saying a word. The kiss hit like floodgates bursting—urgent, aching, years of held-back desire finally snapping loose.

His mouth was warm, tasting of beer and something deeply Jack. His cologne clung to the collar of his coat, smoky and crisp, and you inhaled it like oxygen. Hands found your waist, large and steady, trailing down to your hips and cupping your curves like he'd memorized them long before ever touching. Your fingers curled around the lapels of his jacket, pulling him closer, needing more.

It felt like one of those messy makeouts from college—reckless, hungry, impossibly heady. But this wasn't some clumsy hookup. This was the culmination of every stolen glance, every almost-touch, every moment spent not saying the thing that burned between you.

You were both sober enough to know what this was—what it meant. When Jack pulled away, just slightly, his breath brushing your lips, his voice dropped into something gravel-soft. "You're not drunk?"

You shook your head, words catching in your throat. "One glass of wine. I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

That was all he needed.

You surged forward, capturing his mouth again with a need that bordered on desperate. Jack backed into the wall with a soft grunt, pulling you in like the space between you had always belonged to him. His hands roamed—one sliding up to cup your jaw, the other finding your lower back, anchoring you like he was terrified you'd disappear.

The kiss deepened, his tongue brushing yours, tasting of mint and longing and everything unspoken between you. You whimpered into his mouth, fingers threading through the curls at the nape of his neck, feeling him shiver at the contact. He devoured you like a man starved, and when he pulled back, just enough to look at you, lips swollen and voice rough, he rasped, "Let me take you home."

You nodded, breathless, pulse thundering in your throat. The walk back to your apartment was quiet, the tension between you humming like electricity under your skin. Jack simply held your hand the entire way. The air crackled, your hand brushing his once, twice, before he finally laced your fingers together.

Arriving at your front door, your hands trembled slightly as you unlocked it. The weight of what was about to happen anchored itself deep in your stomach. You stepped inside, the warm light of your living room spilling over the hardwood floors. Jack hovered in the doorway, hesitant, until you reached for his hand again.

"Come in," you said softly.

He followed.

You led him to the couch, asking quietly if he wanted anything to drink. Jack shook his head, stepping closer until your bodies were barely apart.

"I don’t need anything," he murmured. "Except you."

You inhaled sharply, but before you could speak, his lips were on yours again—slower this time, reverent, like he was memorizing every contour of your mouth. His hands cupped your face as he pulled you closer, until you felt the full heat of him against you.

You reached for the hem of his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders, then your fingers found the buttons of his shirt, fumbling slightly. Jack took over, shrugging out of it with ease. Beneath, his skin was warm and firm beneath your wandering hands, the light dusting of chest hair catching the soft glow of your floor lamp.

Jack’s hands slid under the hem of your top, brushing up your sides, warm palms skating over bare skin. When he pulled it over your head and saw the black lace lingerie beneath—filigree against your skin, delicate and dark—his breath caught in his throat.

"That kid," he spat, "wouldn’t know how to take care you."

You managed a breathless laugh, the tension and heat between you turning reckless. "And what exactly does taking care of me imply, Dr. Abbot?" you teased, voice low and daring.

Jack's eyes darkened immediately, his fingers tightening slightly where they gripped your waist. "Everything you need," he rasped. "And more."

You smiled, bold with adrenaline, tipping your chin up toward him. "And you think you can handle me?"

He leaned in, mouth grazing your ear, voice wrecked and certain. "Sweetheart," Jack said, "I'm counting on it."

He unclasped your bra with one hand, letting it fall away before sliding his palms across your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples in slow, deliberate strokes. "You’re perfect."

You arched into him with a quiet gasp, his touch both soothing and incendiary. He kissed your neck, down your collarbone, until he was lowering you gently onto the couch.

"Let me take care of you," he said, voice hoarse with restraint.

Your only answer was a nod, a whispered, "Please."

Jack kneeled between your thighs, kissing his way down your stomach, murmuring soft nothings against your skin. He slipped your underwear down slowly, eyes locked with yours. He paused only briefly, kissing the inside of your thigh before taking two fingers and teasing them along your entrance.

You gasped, hips bucking as he gently eased a finger inside, curling it expertly. "So wet for me," he murmured, awed. "God, you’re dripping."

And then he was lowering his mouth to you, tongue parting you gently. When he sucked your clit into his mouth, your back arched and your fingers dove into his hair, holding tight.

Jack groaned against you, the sound vibrating through your core. "I could live here," he muttered. "Die happy between your thighs."

You whimpered, tugging harder at his hair. "Jack—please—"

He didn’t stop. His tongue moved in rhythm with his fingers, slow at first and then faster, guided by your every gasp and shudder. The sound of him—soft groans muffled against your slick, the wet sounds of his mouth working you over—had your skin tingling. The taste of you seemed to drive him wild, his chin slick with your arousal as he murmured, "Fucking incredible," into your core.

His fingers curled just right, finding that perfect spot with unerring precision. Your moans spilled out freely, hands clutching at his hair, holding him there. He groaned again, a sound of pure pleasure. "That’s it, sweetheart. Let go for me."

When it broke—when you shattered with a breathless, keening cry—Jack held you through it, grounding you with his strong hands bracketing your hips. His lips never left you, drawing out every tremble, every ripple of your climax until it became too much. Your thighs twitched, pleasure tipping toward the edge of pain, and with trembling fingers, you tapped gently at his shoulder. A silent plea for mercy.

He stilled instantly, pulling back with his mouth slick and eyes dark, but gentle.

You could only scoff, breath shaky and a smile of bliss coloring your face. Jack leaned forward to press a kiss to your thigh, tender and unhurried. "You’re unbelievable," he whispered, voice rough with awe and restraint.

He pulled back slowly, face glistening, licking his fingers clean before sucking them into his mouth, savoring every bit of your taste. Then he looked up at you like you were the only thing that existed. Like he'd just touched heaven.

As he kissed up your body, his breath fanned across your damp skin—each kiss a pause, a confession. His facial hair scraped lightly in contrast to the softness of his lips, leaving trails of heat along your ribs, then your collarbone. When he reached your neck, he lingered there, nuzzling the hollow beneath your jaw before pressing a kiss to it, like he couldn't get enough of the way you tasted, the way you felt, the way you breathed beneath him.

"Can I undress you?" you whisper, running your fingers through his hair. He looks up at you like the morning sky, warmth, admiration, and affection—but there's hesitation there too.

He swallows, jaw flexing slightly, before nodding. "Yeah," he says quietly. "Just... heads up."

You pause, thumb brushing the edge of his cheek. "Jack?"

His voice is rough. "You’ll see scars. From before. It’s not a big deal, just... some of them are pretty bad." He tries to laugh it off, but his eyes flicker away and his shoulders tense. Your heart cracks open at the vulnerability he rarely lets anyone see.

"Hey," you murmur, tilting his face back toward yours. "Whatever you’ve been through, whatever you carry—I want to see all of you. Every piece."

Jack's throat bobbed with a swallow, eyes glassy as he searched your face for doubt—and found none. His fingers brushed lightly along your jaw.

You undressed him slowly, fingers trembling as you tugged his belt open, then popped the button of his slacks. His cock strained against the fabric, an eager outline that made your mouth water. When you pushed his pants down, the sight made you pause—he was perfect. Not too much, not too little—cut, well-groomed, thick and just the right length. A light trail of hair led up to a stomach carved with muscle, the kind earned by years of hard work, not vanity.

You wrapped your fingers around him, gave him a few slow pumps, marveling at the weight of him in your hand. When you ducked your head and pressed a kiss to the flushed tip, he hissed softly, hand threading into your hair. You licked him experimentally, kitten licks at first, savoring the velvet softness of his skin, the way he twitched at every flick of your tongue.

You took him into your mouth, slowly, a few shallow bobs that had him groaning low in his throat. His other hand gripped the back of the couch behind you as his hips twitched forward, but just when you began to settle into a rhythm, he gently but firmly pulled you back.

Jack crushed his mouth to yours, desperate and breathless, his hands cradling your face. "Not like that," he murmured, voice trembling against your lips. "I’m not coming anywhere but inside you. I want to feel you, every inch, every heartbeat." He drew back just enough to look at you, something raw and uncertain flickering in his eyes.

"If you're sure," he whispered, thumb stroking your cheek, "I want to take care of you. Let you shut everything else out—just feel me."

You nodded, breath catching. "I need you."

His breath shuddered out, the last thread of restraint snapping in his chest. With worship and heat in his eyes, Jack kissed you again—slower this time, deeper, as if trying to memorize the very shape of your mouth. Reaching over to the end table, you pulled out a condom wrapper and tore it open, your fingers trembling with anticipation.

With a breathless murmur of his name, you rolled it onto his length—slowly, deliberately—giving him a few teasing strokes first. His cock twitched in your hand, heavy and perfect, and your thumb brushed over the slick tip, spreading the pre-cum like a promise. Jack's breath caught, eyes dark as he watched you, jaw clenched with restraint, like you’d just lit a match in a room full of gasoline.

He guided you down gently, his body pressing into yours, firm and certain, a grounding weight that promised not just desire, but devotion.

You moved first, hips sliding up and down in slow, deliberate strokes, and Jack almost exploded at how good you felt. Every part of him molded to you, surrounding you like safety and fire all at once. His hands cradled your face like something sacred, and the press of his chest against yours ignited sparks beneath your skin. You couldn't remember sex ever feeling like this—like your very soul was unraveling. It was almost a religious experience, divine and consuming, the way he fit with you, moved with you. It felt like surrender.

"Fuck." It punched out of Jack Abbot like a confession, like he’d been holding it in for months. You felt like pure velvet around him—tight, warm, impossibly soft, dragging him to the edge with every glide of your hips. His head tipped back for a moment, jaw clenched, trying to hold on. The sounds spilling from your lips—soft gasps, high whimpers, breathy moans—were branded into his memory already. God, he thought, if he could bottle them, he’d keep them forever. Hoard them. Pray to them for forgiveness.

Your hands were grasping onto whatever they could—his shoulders, the cushions, the curve of his neck—anything to anchor yourself. When your nails dug into his back, Jack groaned low and deep, the sound vibrating against your skin like a warning and a reward. He definitely had a thing for rough, and that knowledge thrilled you.

You leaned in, breathless, and whispered praises against his ear—how good he felt, how perfect he was, how he filled you like no one else ever had.

"Please," you begged, voice shaking.

Jack groaned, the sound catching in his throat. "You’re everything I've ever dreamed of," he rasped, pressing his forehead to yours. "You feel like heaven."

Your nails raked down his back, and he hissed through clenched teeth, clearly loving it. "You take me so well," he murmured, lips brushing your temple, his hand smoothing along your spine. "So fucking good—perfect, you’re made for me."

"Jack—God, please—don’t stop," you whimpered, arching into him. His rhythm faltered for a heartbeat at your words, his grip on your waist tightening like a man barely holding on.

"Never," he whispered. "Gonna keep you like this. You're mine."

Each word wrapped around you like silk, the praise as intoxicating as the rhythm of his hips. You drank him in like water in a desert, letting it fill every hollow part of you until you were burning with it—consumed, adored, alive.

Jack shifted, pulling you with him, guiding you until your hands were braced against the couch and your body arched for him. The air thickened as he pressed behind you, one hand splaying over your lower back, the other skimming down to grip your hip firmly.

He slid back inside slowly, a groan torn from his throat at the new angle. "Fuck, look at you—" he breathed, eyes roaming over the arch of your spine, the way your skin glowed beneath the dim lights.

Your breath caught at the intensity. He moved with purpose now, hips snapping against yours, the sound of skin on skin echoing in the dim light. His grip bruised in the best way, grounding you, guiding you, adoring you with every thrust.

Every movement lit you up, sending shocks through your body until you were keening, meeting him stroke for stroke. Jack leaned over you, one hand splaying across your lower back while the other slipped beneath to rub tight, teasing circles over your clit. The added pressure was too much, the timing of his thrusts too perfect. You were a whining mess, trembling and begging for release, the pleasure cresting like a tidal wave.

"That's it, baby," he groaned, his voice wrecked. "Let go for me. Give it to me."

You clawed at the cushions, barely able to hold yourself upright, your body burning at every point of contact. And when his teeth sank gently into your shoulder, scraping over sensitive skin and biting down with a growled praise, everything inside you shattered.

You came with a strangled cry, ears ringing, vision going white around the edges, the force of your orgasm crashing over you like fire and light. Jack held you steady, worshipful even now, as you pulsed around him—his voice in your ear, a low whisper of your name like a prayer he’d never stop saying. He pressed kisses down your shoulder blades, pausing to give you a break, his breath shaky with restraint.

Then, without a word, he gathered you into his arms, shifting you with care. He carried you up effortlessly, propping your legs over the edge of the couch so you were just hanging off, perfectly open for him. Nestled into the crook of your neck, Jack rocked into you with purpose, his thrusts slow but relentless, chasing his own release. Your hands wrapped protectively around his head, fingers stroking through his hair, grounding him.

"Are you going to fill me up?" you edged, voice breathless, lips brushing the shell of his ear. "Have me dripping for days so everyone knows who I belong to?"

"Jesus Christ, Y/N," he gasped.

That was it.

Jack shuddered, a low, desperate groan escaping him as he pressed himself deeper into you. He trembled, a broken moan tearing from his throat. His fingers clutched your thighs as he buried himself to the hilt, the sound of your voice—the permission, the trust—pushing him over the edge. His release surged through him, hips stuttering as he spilled into you, heart hammering as he held you close, breathless and undone. He collapsed gently against you, all tension melting as he pressed a kiss into your neck, lost in the aftershocks of something that felt like more than just pleasure.

A long moment passed before he pulled back just enough to look at you. His pupils were blown wide, the edges of his eyes glistening with overwhelmed want, cheeks flushed with effort and awe.

"What did I do to deserve you?" he murmured, cracking with disbelief. His gaze searched yours—earnest, sincere, undone.

He leaned in again, kissing the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, as if he couldn't stop reassuring himself you were real. "You okay?" he asked softly, still breathing hard. "Was that too much?"

You smiled through the afterglow, brushing your fingertips over his jaw. "I've never felt anything like that. It was perfect."

Jack exhaled a shuddering breath of relief, then smiled too—soft and disbelieving, like he’d just found something sacred.

Later, after the two of you had cleaned up and slipped beneath the covers, the world slowed to a hush. Jack lay beside you, one arm tucked beneath your shoulders, the other lazily tracing shapes across your skin. Hearts, spirals, question marks—he wasn’t thinking, just moving, touching, grounding himself in your presence.

The silence between you was full—not empty—with comfort and understanding, the kind only found in someone who sees every scar and stays anyway.

Your body ached in the sweetest way, muscles languid and sated. You felt Jack’s chest rise and fall with slow, steady breaths against your back, the heat of his body a constant balm. You turned slightly to glance at him, catching the way his eyes fluttered closed, then opened again to meet yours.

"Stay with me?" you whispered, though it wasn’t really a question.

He leaned in, pressed a kiss to your temple. "Always."

Every quiet morning after that was a sort of miracle—waking tangled in his warmth, with the sun filtering through the curtains and the scent of coffee already brewing. Even the hardest days felt lighter, the sharp edges dulled by his steady presence, by the simple truth that he was yours, and you were his.

And in that stillness, that shared understanding, you knew: this was only the beginning.

#the pitt #jack abbot #dr robby #dr abbot #jack abbot x reader #the pitt fanfiction #the pitt x reader #shawn hatosy #noah wyle #dr abbot x reader #smut #dr abbot smut #jack abbot smut

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yeosatinyngz · 5 months ago

Note

(rules anon) I was just wondering if you could do something similar to your forgot your bday ask u got? but they forgot your anniversary bc they were hanging out with the Mc? hurt and comfort or hurt and no comfort whatever you decide (but u totes don't have to do this tho if it makes you uncomfortable!)

I apologize for the delay, I was bombarded with school work and studying but I’m finally done with the semester and have the time to write your request, hope you like it! <3

THEY FORGET YOUR ANNIVERSARY

↳Fem! Non MC Reader | Angst w/ comfort

Lies were the very thing you were feeding yourself with when you heard no response from your partner, cause surely there was no way he had forgotten the anniversary of when you both got together.

You sent out your usual good morning text to him but many hours have passed by to the point where the sun was currently setting. You had your message chat with him opened, staring at it hoping it will somehow lead to him miraculously messaging you back. But to no avail, your text remained unanswered.

You release a deep sigh and close your phone. You needed to distract your mind off of your current situation so you decided to go outside for a walk to clear your head. You were enjoying the breeze until you heard a familiar laugh, the laugh that belonged to your beloved.

You turned around to see him walking alongside his colleague, mc. They looked so happy and perfect together, as if they were destined to be together. Oh, you thought to yourself while your heart shattered into a million pieces. You couldn’t bear to witness the scene before you anymore so you quickly left.

You made it back home and slammed the door shut. That’s when everything you held back in you just came falling apart. Your body trembled as your legs gave out on you, you landed on the floor with a thud as the tears started to roll down your eyes. You don’t even know how long you were crying until the door opened with the very man you were despairing over.

“Honey I’m home-” That’s when he realized the current state you were in, he quickly rushed over to check up on you, “What’s wrong my love?” He asks so softly while his hand reaches out to attempt to wipe away your tears. You were quick to smack his hand away and turned your head away from him.

Shakily letting out a breath of air, you turn back to look him straight into his eyes with fury, firmly declaring, “Let’s break up.” His eyes immediately widened as he frantically grabbed your hands. “Please don’t say that, at least tell me why.” He looked at you with those dangerous puppy dog eyes of his that were brimming with tears.

You scoffed and yanked your hands away from his, “Isn’t forgetting our anniversary and hanging out with another girl reason enough?” He goes quiet and you can’t help but let out a bitter laugh, “You got your reason, now leave.”

You couldn’t stand the sight of him anymore and you were ready to get up but he pulled you down towards him, tightly wrapping you into his embrace. “Hey! What are you doing?! Let go of me!” You protest as you squirm in his arms. “Please,” He lets out weakly, “Just listen to me.”

Seeing that you weren’t protesting anymore, Xavier continued on, “While I have no excuse for forgetting our anniversary, I was only with mc because we were assigned a mission together and were just catching up afterwards.” “You looked a little too happy, you were giggling with her and all” you huffed. “She was teasing me about you and saying how cute we were together. You should know that I have eyes on no one else but you.”

“And yet you forgot our anniversary.” “...There’s no arguing that, I’m sorry.” He truly looked so sad and his signature puppy dog eyes were back and working its magic on you, “Please let me make it up to you.” You sigh, giving in to his pouty state, “Alright” He immediately brightened from this word alone “But you will have to do your best because you are still not forgiven.” “I promise!”

He kept his promise as he surprised you the very next day with a beautiful arrangement of flowers (that he harassed Jeremiah to help him with over night, poor dude does not get paid enough), spoiling you with all of your favorite food (he wanted to cook and bake everything himself but we all know why he decided to order delivery instead), gifting you a matching set of necklace (His had your initial while yours had an X), and of course caring to all your needs.

You decided to go visit Rafayel instead of just waiting around for a response that you won’t be getting anytime soon. However, once you got to his studio you came to realize that he wasn’t home either. Strange, you thought to yourself. Where could he be at this time?

The only person that could possibly know your boyfriend’s whereabouts was Thomas so you went ahead and gave him a call. To your luck, he was quick to pick up, “Sorry to bother you Thomas but do you happen to know where Rafayel is?” “I’m not exactly sure where he is right now but I remember mc saying she was going to pick him up.” “Oh…thanks for letting me know.” “Yeah no problem.” He says while you quickly say bye to him and hang up the call.

It took everything in you to not lose your mind right now. The grip you had on your phone was so intense it probably wasn’t far from being broken into pieces. You tried calming yourself down and decided to settle on his couch for the meanwhile. You were going to wait until he came back.

It felt like an eternity waiting for Rafayel to come back, your mind kept spiraling the more the seconds passed by and you just needed him to hurry up so you could confront him and get it over with.

As if your prayers were heard, the door to the studio door opened and in walked your beautiful boyfriend, well soon to be ex boyfriend accompanied with his bodyguard. His eyes were quick to find your figure sitting on your coach and he jumped back in surprise, “Oh you scared me, what are you doing here cutie?”

That’s when he noticed the nasty glare you were giving him and your arms crossed over each other. He mentally panics, Uh oh, I fucked up. “Oh you should be scared, Rafayel.” He felt chills go down his spine from your cold words. That’s when mc awkwardly coughs and speaks up, “Uh I think I’ll excuse myself” before she quickly dashed out the door leaving you two in awkward silence.

Rafayel was quick to rush to your side, dramatically dropping down to his knees and planting his face into your lap. He lifts his chin up and looks up at you while begging for forgiveness, “Please forgive me cutie, you can do whatever you want with me just please don’t be mad anymore.”

His eyes were filled with despair as he waited anxiously for your response, his pout deepening the longer you delayed your response. “I’ll let you guess what you did wrong.” His brain freezes as he tries to come up with all the possibilities. You grabbed his chin to force him to look into your eyes, “You forgot our anniversary and chose to go out with that bodyguard of yours.”

He mentally curses himself, “I’m sorry cutie, I’ve been working on this piece for the past week nonstop and got the dates mixed up, I swear it wasn’t on purpose. The reason I was out with Miss bodyguard is because I was getting some materials to finish up my piece.”

Without even waiting for your response he got up and dragged you along with him to unveil the canvas that was hidden underneath a cloth. You could tell that it was unfinished but it was no doubt that what he painted was you. You unconsciously let out a gasp because you couldn’t believe what your eyes were witnessing.

Rafayel has painted you in a way where no one else in this world can ever come close to replicating, he drew your likeness in such an ethereal way that it left you speechless. “I- Is this how you see me?” He nods, “I’m ashamed to show you the unfinished product but this piece doesn’t even come close to showcasing your beauty, you continue to inspire me everyday cutie so I hope you can forgive me.” You threw yourself at him and crushed him into a hug. “You are more than forgiven, I love you so much Raf.” He plants a kiss on your temple, “I love you so much you don’t even know.”

Sighing, you went along with your last resort, calling Greyson. You dislike wasting their precious time when they’re on the clock but you’re sure Greyson can spare you maybe a minute or two compared to Zayne. Your heart drums even faster as the seconds prolonged from him picking up the phone.

Finally you hear Greyson’s voice fill your ear, “What’s up?” “Sorry to bother you Greyson but I just wanted to know how Zayne was doing.” “It’s no bother really, he actually left a while ago.” “Oh is that so?” “Yeah, his last patient today was mc and they left together about maybe forty five minutes ago.” You remained silent as your mind started coming up with different scenarios, you were quickly pulled out of your thoughts by Greyson calling out to you. “Sorry about that, thanks for telling me, have a good night.” “You too.”

Then the call ends, leaving you alone with all your doubtful thoughts. You sat at the couch waiting there for Zayne to come back but as the hours passed you were hopeless.

You don’t even know what time it was or when you even fell asleep but you awoke to keys jingling and the front door opening. You slowly got up and walked up to him, “How come you’re home so late?” “Sorry about that, mc invited me over for dinner since grandma Josephine wanted to see me.”

“Well you could’ve told me ahead of time, I wouldn’t have made dinner and waited on your return then” your words came out a little harsher than you wanted and Zayne took notice. You walked over to the dining table to clear out all the food and he followed after you to also help.

That’s when he freezes, in the middle of the table sat a cake with the words ‘Happy Anniversary’ in your handwriting. He looks up at you but you pay him no attention. “You made this cake?” You look back at him with cold eyes, “Yeah but it doesn’t matter anymore, you can toss it out since there’s nothing to celebrate.” You were done putting everything in the fridge and you walked out of the kitchen. “I’ll be heading to bed first, I’m taking the guest bedroom.”

Before you could take another step Zayne reaches out and grabs your hand, you were too tired for this. You turned around and looked him in his eyes while you pried his hand off yours, “Can we not do this right now? I’m exhausted and don’t want to deal with this.” “Please”, his hazel eyes were swimming with regret as they pleaded with you to listen. You manage to grumble out a “You have five minutes.”

“It was not my intention to forget our special day, I’ve been overwhelmed recently with work and it all messed with my head. I'm truly so sorry and I know empty words won’t do anything for you at this moment but I will make it my duty to make it up to you just please don’t leave me, you’re the only person in this world I can’t bear to lose.”

You reached up and cupped his face with both of your hands, “I’m not going to leave you, you dummy. I just want you to rely on me and communicate with me more when you’re tired. A relationship consists of two people, let us both carry the same amount of weight. But don’t think you’re off the hook about forgetting our anniversary though, you’re still on thin ice mister.” He lets out a small laugh, “Duly noted.”

You checked in with the twins about Sylus’s schedule in advance and they confirmed that he would be out during the afternoon today. You set out to the N109 Zone, specifically his place so that you could plan out surprising him for your anniversary.

It took you lots of time and effort with putting up all the decorations and manually blowing up the balloons. After everything was done you rested on the couch for a while.

You still have plenty of time till his return so you were currently helping his chef prepare his favorite dishes. You put extra care into making the food since it was a special occasion. You couldn’t wait to surprise Sylus.

It was about time Sylus should be returning so you closed all the lights, hiding behind the couch, itching for the right moment to jump out and surprise the love of your life.

Suddenly, you heard the door open. This was the moment, prepare yourself. The lights turn on and you hear footsteps coming closer to you. You jumped out yelling surprise ready to pop the confetti until you came face to face with Kieran, with Luke behind him.

“Huh, where’s Sylus?” Kieran speaks up, “Boss had another unexpected business meeting so he’ll be back a little later.” “Oh” You sigh dejectedly. They try to cheer you up but you just slumped back onto the couch.

An hour has passed and still no trace of Sylus. At this point you looked so sad that Luke offered to call Sylus to see where he was at. Luke puts his phone on speaker so that you could also hear.

Soon you heard the deep silky voice that belonged to your partner, “What is it?” “I was just wondering when you’ll be home.” “I still haven’t wrapped things up with Miss Hunter yet so it’ll still take a while.” “Oh ok, please try to get home as soon as you can.” “I’ll try.”

Luke nervously looks at you after he ends the call. You laughed and a chill ran down both the twin’s back. “Miss, are you ok?” Kieran asks. Catching your breath after you laughed you responded, “How can I be ok after finding out the man I love forgot our anniversary and is out with this girl he frequently has business meetings with.”

You abruptly got up and went to gather your things with you. “W- where are you going?” Luke shakily asks. “I’m going home and neither of you guys are stopping me.” “Please reconsider!” Kieran pleaded, you threw him a death glare and walked towards the door, proceeding to open it and slam it on your way out. You felt bad for getting angry at the twins but your emotions got the better of you.

Sylus just got back and as soon as he opened the door he was welcomed with the sight of the twins panicking and shouting at him. “Boss, why didn’t you pick up your phone? We were calling you for so long, this is an emergency!!” “My phone died.” “You’re in big trouble boss.” “Huh?” Obviously confused by the commotion the twins pushed him to the living room.

He took in the sight and noticed the ‘Happy Anniversary’ banner. That’s when his heart drops, oh he messed up real bad. He wanted to beat himself but there were more pressing matters. “Either one of you give me your phone.” Once a phone was handed to him he quickly went to find your contact and called you.

However, it’s been the tenth time he’s calling you and you still haven’t picked up. As he was giving up you finally picked up, “Ugh would you quit spam calling me Kieran?” “Sweetie, I'm so sorry.” “Oh it’s you, I’m hanging up.” you said coldly. “Wait-” You wasted no time in ending the call. You were also quick to block Sylus and the twin’s numbers.

You were tired after everything that happened today so you drifted off to sleep. You don’t know how long you were sleeping but you woke up to a loud crash, jolting you up in your bed. You looked around to check the source of the noise and noticed that your balcony door was broken, the glass pieces shattered around your floor.

Then you feel a gush of wind as a familiar black and dark red mist surrounds you tightening you into a hold. You looked up and found yourself staring into a pair of shining scarlet eyes. “Let me go you psycho!” “Not until you listen to me.” You roll your eyes, “Not like you gave me any other option.”

He chuckles while walking towards you. Stopping when he’s directly in front of you. “I’m here to beg you for forgiveness, I’m sorry for neglecting you on our special day. I’ll do anything for your forgiveness, hell I’ll even grovel.” The gleam in your eyes doesn’t go unnoticed. Needless to say, Sylus did his part and earned your forgiveness.

#love & deepspace #loveanddeepspace #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace xavier #love and deepspace rafayel #love and deepspace zayne #love and deepspace sylus #lads x reader #l&ds x reader #xavier x reader #xavier x you #rafayel x reader #rafayel x you #zayne x reader #zayne x you #sylus x reader #sylus x you #yeosatinyngz

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scribbles-here · 6 months ago

Text

ɪ ᴘᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀʟᴀɴᴅ

summary: ever since you've woken up in Twisted Wonderland, you've been in awe. i mean how could you not? magic was everywhere!

your friends just shrug it off, thinking that there was nothing special about this world, but you, oh you can't help but giggle like a child whenever something explodes, whether on purpose or accidently, in potions class. of course, someone has noticed the joy at the smallest things in your eyes, and he can't help but admire that.

characters: Riddle, Leona, Azul, Kalim, Vil, Idia, and Malleus,

type: fluffy / gn reader / romantic / bullet points + lowercase intended / reader is yuu

a/n: had this in my head for a while but whenever im given the chance to write i forget everything, some characters might be ooc and like most of the stuff i just searched up lol

unedited

✁-----

[ⅰ] riddle rosehearts

riddle likes your enthusiasm about wanting to learn things. so when you came up to him with a bunch of questions regarding his world, you bet he pulled out a stack of books and plopped them on a nearby table.

"i hope your free for the next hour, [name], because we aren't leaving until your curiosity is satisfied."

he thinks you're going to whine and make an excuse to leave, but he's left silent when you nod and plop down on the chair, back straight and ready to learn at whatever knowledge was going to be thrown your way.

it ended being longer than an hour. you couldn't help yourself asking questions about certain things like wars, how magic came to be, how it was possible to for dorms to have their own dimensional pocket for its location, and blah blah blah.

and riddle couldn't help himself to answering your questions, which led to more questions and again blah blah blah.

finally, you guys get a break for snacks and refreshments, riddle decides to ask you about your world. is there truly no magic in your world? ...magicians? they give the allusion of magic without being able to use it? interesting.

and break ends without both you realize it, but this time, riddle's the student and you're the teacher.

[ⅱ] leona kingscholar

usually, leona doesn't care if you're around him whenever he's sleeping, he likes napping on you. as long as it's quiet and there's no ruggie bugging him about any assignments, he's a happy lion.

but he can't help flicking his tail in irritation at your constant staring at his tail and furry ears when he's trying to sleep. he knows you probably want to touch them.

yeah, leona knows he's good looking, but could've you done your sight-seeing when he's more awake and ready to tease you?

"hey, herbivore, is there something on my face?" leona opens an eye and stares at yours with his green one. he notices you eying his ears and with a loud sigh, he repositions himself to rest his chin on your belly. "only for 3 minutes"

giggling, you immediately reach over and stroked at his fuzzy ears. then comes the questions. "do you use different shampoo for your tail?" "how do you wear headphones?" "your tail is very pretty!"

while you chatted away and messed with his ears and hair, leona fell deeper and deeper into slumber. he'll answer your questions when he wakes up.

[ⅲ] azul ashengrotto

why did he agree to this? why couldn't he just tell jade and floyd to take and show you the beauty of the deep sea? but knowing them, they might pull something and that something was this!

stuck in a sunken ship, with you, in his octopus form! but he can't help but flush at your gentle petting towards one of his many arms, the appendage wrapping itself around your fingers. he curses at the twins under his breath.

azul tries to focus your attention on other things he has found in the ruined ship, "look at this jewel, isn't it shiny?" "no? well, uh, then what about these shells? don't they look prettier to look at?" but the more he brough items using his limbs, the more amazed you are.

"wow, your arms are useful, not to mention very beautiful." azul pauses, soaking up your words, heart fluttering. "this shade flatters you so much, i bet you look good in any color"

azul and you didn't realize how close you had gotten to each other, chests touching and eyes locked like nothing else mattered. "azul, you're very beautiful."

his heart clenches at your words, swallowing a bit and murmuring a small 'thank you.' azul's limbs tightening their grip around you. "thank you, [name]..."

[ⅳ] kalim al asim

he's a yapper like you, poor jamil is seconds away from slamming his head into a wall from your ramblings.

you're amazed at some crystal lamps he has? guess what's sitting on your desk in your dorm. what do you mean there's no such thing as enchanted jewelry in your world? don't worry [name] he'll cover you head to toe in enchanted jewelry.

but then kalim has an idea. what if he took you on a magic carpet ride? you liked it last time surely, you would want to do it again. you beam at the idea and before jamil could get a say in, kalim scoops your hand in his and drags you to the treasury where he keeps his magic carpet.

squealing in delight, the air smacked your face to which you buried yourself in kalim's clothing as you clung to him. kalim laughs with you as he guides his carpet up into the clouds. '[name] check out this view!'

you gasp at the sight; the moon was full and bright in the dark sky, stars twinkled in the dark dome, the air was crisp and cold. kalim feels his face warm up at the sight.

he'll take you anywhere you want as long as you stay by his side

[ⅴ] vil schoenheit

you remind him of rook in a way, always admiring the simplest things and always impressed by the tiniest things. he's seen the way you look at him with stars in your eyes whenever he makes sparkles fly in alchemy and potions class.

vil knows your curious and he absolutely thrives at your constant attention on whatever he's doing. be it doing his make-up, skin care routine, or doing schoolwork. as long as it's you, he doesn't mind your attention behind cameras.

currently, he's doing your daily skin care date night while you yapped away about potions and his skin care.

"you make your own skin care products right? that's amazing, i couldn't trust making my own and expect my face to come out as clear as yours." you laugh

vil huffs as his pinky scoops up some lip balm, then holds your chin gently with his pointer finger and thumb and applies the product to your lips. which he totally didn't need to do all of that when there was a small stick.

"that's why i'm here, [name], i could show you some tricks i've learned through trial and error."

[ⅵ] idia shroud

after over blotting and apologizing to everyone, idia expects his life to remain the same, occasionally having interactions with his peers, you have shown up to his dorm, thanks to ortho, and expressed your curiosity in his hair.

idia stutters out an incoherent explanation, tips of his hair burning a pink from the concentrated look in your eyes, and once he finishes, idia goes to close his door but jumps at your hand gripping onto the door. you weren't satisfied.

eventually you invite yourself inside and after countless questions about him, you mention technology from your world and that catches his attention.

he listens to your explanation, occasionally snickering at the outdated technology your world had. when you ask about the technology from this world, idia comes out a bit more from his shell and goes on a 3-hour rant about technology from Twisted Wonderland, with you occasionally asking questions.

idia hopes you don't notice the tips of his hair turning pink, but of course, you ask him, admiring the color.

[ⅶ] malleus draconia

he admires that about you. for someone who'll live for a short time, you always cherish what little time you have. malleus has lived for a long time; he's seen things come and go, and over the years, he seems to have lost the passion to seek and explore what life offered.

but being with you with your daily late-night walks, with your rambling of how you found potions being able to heal injuries and sicknesses absolutely mindboggling.

malleus listens attentively to your speech on mythical creatures back in your world, how dragons were your personal favorite, and how in your world, in fae mythology, it's rare for a fae to choose to become mortal. that certainly catches malleus' attention. (i literally just googled this so idk if this is accurate)

he's certainly never heard of this statement, but it does intrigue him. now your speech leads to questioning him or questioning about his title as one of the top five powerful mages. how do you get that title? are you born with it or do you have to prove yourself to professionals? can anyone receive this title?

malleus just smiles and answers your onslaught of questions, heart fluttering at your attentive gaze

Tip jar (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

#x reader #twst x reader #twst wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #leona kingscholar #malleus draconia x reader #leona kingsholar x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #idia shroud x reader #kalim al asim x reader #fanfiction #riddle rosehearts x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader

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prettygirl-gabi · 3 months ago

Text

A Somewhat Realistic Timeline for “Through the Lens” (Up Until February 2025)

⸻

October 18th, 2024 – First Night with the Team

• Y/N joins the UConn Women’s Basketball team as the official photographer for her final project.

• She’s assigned to capture the team’s season from behind the lens, with her professor encouraging her to focus on storytelling through emotion and movement.

• Paige Bueckers, already a legend at UConn, catches Y/N’s attention almost instantly. There’s something about the way Paige moves on the court that Y/N finds captivating, even through the camera.

• Y/N starts attending every practice and game, slowly becoming part of the team’s environment.

• Paige, while focused on her super senior season, begins noticing Y/N’s presence more than she expected.

⸻

November 7th, 2024 – The Camera Incident (vs. Boston University, W, 86-32)

• During UConn’s blowout win at the XL Center, Y/N positions herself courtside, hoping to capture a shot of Paige in action.

• In the third quarter, Paige makes an aggressive block, sending the ball flying… directly into Y/N’s camera, shattering her favorite lens.

• Y/N is devastated and avoids Paige after the game, feeling embarrassed and frustrated.

• Paige tries to approach her in the tunnel, but Y/N brushes past her and leaves before Paige can apologize.

⸻

November 14th, 2024 – Locked in the Practice Gym

• KK and Azzi, more so KK already aware of the weird tension between Paige and Y/N, scheme to lock them in the practice gym, til they talk it out.

• Paige, desperate to apologize, she sees Y/N’s backup camera and records a heartfelt apology video while Y/N steps away to the bathroom. In the video, Paige awkwardly admits:

“I’m sorry for breaking your camera… and for whatever this weird energy is between us. I feel like I’ve been trying to figure you out since you showed up here. And now… I just want you to stay.”

• When Y/N finds the video later that night while editing, her heart softens for the first time. And she makes a copy and gives it to Paige at the next practice.

⸻

Mid-November to December 2024 – The Slow Burn Begins

• Paige starts showing up more when Y/N is around, lingering after practice, making excuses to talk to her, and even offering her hoodie when Y/N forgets hers during a cold gym shoot.

• Y/N catches herself taking more candid shots of Paige during quiet moments—her laugh during team huddles, her focused stare before free throws, and her rare smiles when she thinks no one’s watching.

• Paige starts posting Y/N’s pictures on her Instagram with captions that make her teammates clown her in the group chat.

• Azzi, KK, and Ice start calling Y/N “Paige’s personal paparazzi.”

⸻

December 23rd-26th, 2024 – UConn Holiday Break

• Y/N stays on campus to edit her project while the team goes home for the holidays.

• Paige, who usually spends Christmas in Minnesota, randomly texts Y/N:

“Bet your camera roll memories are missing me.”

• Y/N laughs at the text but doesn’t respond immediately.

• A few hours later, Paige sends another message:

“I’m comin back early. You wanna grab pizza when I get in?”

• They spend that night driving around Hartford, talking about everything except basketball. Paige opens up about her fear of leaving UConn for the WNBA and not knowing who she is outside of basketball.

• Y/N realizes she’s falling for Paige, not just through her camera lens, but for who she is off the court.

⸻

January 5th, 2025 – Villanova Game (Paige’s Knee Injury)

• During a hard-fought game against Villanova, Paige goes down with a minor knee injury and is ruled out for a week.

• During the game, Y/N rushes to the locker room to check on her, but Paige brushes it off, trying to act tough.

• Paige snaps, “Y/N, seriously. Go back out there,” she said, her tone softening. “You’ve got a game to film. I’ll be fine.”

• Y/n , stunned by Paige’s sudden mini outburst, responds in a soft yet firm tone telling her if she wasn’t out of the locker room and on the team bench she was gonna come back.

⸻

January 6th, 2025 – Y/N’s Grandmother Falls Ill

• Y/N gets a call that her grandmother in Georgia is sick and decides to fly home for a few days.

• Paige finds out through KK and begs Coach Geno and CD to let her fly to Georgia to support Y/N, despite her injury.

• Paige arrives at Y/N’s childhood home the next day, surprising her on her grandmother’s porch.

⸻

January 7th-10th, 2025 – Georgia Trip (Paige Finally Sees Y/N Beyond the Lens)

• Y/N’s grandmother immediately picks up on the energy between them and starts teasing Y/N about her “little basketball girlfriend.”

• Paige spends the next few days by Y/N’s side, helping take care of her grandmother and distracting Y/N with random late-night Waffle House runs.

• One night, while sitting on Y/N’ back porch during their all nighter talking session, Paige admits:

“You see me clearer than anyone else… and I want you to keep seeing me. Off the court, through the mess, through all of it.”

• Y/N feels her heart completely fall for Paige in that moment.

⸻

January 11-12th, 2025 – Back in Connecticut / Paige Finally Asks Y/N Out

• After returning to UConn, Paige finally asks Y/N on a real date.

• With KK’s help, Paige sets up a late-night picnic on a quiet beach just outside of campus.

• The setup is simple—pizza, fruit, and cookies from the dining hall—but it’s the most thoughtful thing Y/N has ever experienced.

• Under the stars, Paige finally confesses

• Y/N agrees to be her girlfriend, officially ending the months of tension between them.

⸻

January 14-16th, 2025 – Visiting Paige’s Family

• Paige invites Y/N to visit her family with her.

• Y/N meets Paige’s stepmom and little brother, Drew, for the first time.

• Drew takes an immediate liking to Y/N.

• Paige watches fondly, teasing Y/N when Drew actually manages to score on her.

• During a quiet moment, Paige’s dad pulls Y/N aside and tells her, “I haven’t seen Paige this happy in a long time. You mean a lot to her.”

• That night, Paige and Y/N share a moment talking to Paige’s dad.

⸻

January 19th, 2025 – Aubrey Griffin Checks Into a Game for the First Time in 381 Days / Paige Reaches 2,000 Career Points

• The moment is emotional for the whole team. Y/N captures every second through her camera.

• Paige and the rest of the team cheer loudly when Aubrey finally checks in.

• Y/N positions herself for a better shot view, knowing Paige is on the verge of a major milestone.

• In the second quarter, with a little over eight minutes left, Paige sinks a signature jumper, officially reaching 2,000 career points.

• The crowd erupts, and Y/N snaps the perfect shot of Paige, arms raised, soaking in the moment.

⸻

January 21st, 2025 – The Mall Incident (Marcus Tries to Approach Y/N)

• Y/N, Paige, Azzi, and Ice take a break from basketball and head to the mall for a casual shopping day.

• While browsing, Y/N’s ex, Marcus, spots her.

• He attempts to approach her, but Paige immediately moves in front of Y/N, with Azzi and Ice flanking her sides.

• Marcus, seeing the trio’s protective stance, backs off, but Y/N feels shaken.

• Later, Paige pulls Y/N aside, cupping her face gently. “You don’t have to deal with that alone. Not anymore.”

⸻

January 23rd- 25th, 2025 – dorm incident/Creighton Game (Away in Nebraska)

• Y/N goes to her dorm to get a new memory card for her camera, Marcus is there tries to trap her, Azzi and kk come with campus security to save her

• Y/N getting mentally prepared for the game coming up soon and buried herself in school work the days leading up to the Creighton game

• UConn dominates Creighton, leading 56-38 in the third quarter.

• With 00.8 seconds left, Paige attempts a full-court football pass to Sarah for a buzzer-beater.

• The ball doesn’t go in, but the effort is incredible.

⸻

January 27th, 2025 – Y/N Falls Sick Due to Stress and Legal Issues

• Dealing with the stress of the dorm incident and legal follow-ups, the school and traveling, Y/N’s body finally gives in, and she gets sick.

• Paige, being sad cause she can’t get cuddles or kisses.

• Paige insists on making Kayla take care of her since Y/N made Paige leave so she wouldn’t get Paige sick.

• Despite feeling terrible, Y/N feels warmth from the care her friends and Paige show her.

⸻

January 29th, 2025 – DePaul Game (Away) / Y/N Finally Feels Well Enough to Work Again

• Y/N, finally feeling better, travels with the team to DePaul to capture the game.

• Paige notices Y/N still looks a little tired and makes sure she takes breaks.

• Y/N still talking precaution of waiting til she is full clean of any sickness to be near Paige.

⸻

January 31st - February 2nd, 2025 – Paige Gives Y/N a Promise Ring

• Between January 31st and February 2nd, Paige surprises Y/N with a promise ring.

• Kk and Aubrey helped picked it out

• Y/N, stunned, tears up as Paige slides the ring onto her finger.

• kk and Aubrey trying to barge in on their cute moment….

And that’s all for now…..

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

Tag list: @sayurireidotcom , @astroeliza , @0phantom0 , @yailtsv , @authentic-girl03 , @elalfywhore , @jadasogay , @vamptizm , @sitawita , @starfulani , @paige05bby , @paxaz535 , @azziswrld , @thatonesuschix , .... (more to be added)

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vixen-tech · 1 year ago

Note

Your writing is very good, i’m glad to see another silly sentient ai lover! Keep doing your thing. Can i make a request actually-? You can do it with all of the bots if you’d like, but could you try some hurt/comfort? It’s perfectly fine if not. Have a good day :]

(I am another Edgar lover. I don’t see many people making stuff for him, so i’m VERY EXCITED!)

- CRT Tv anon

A Moment's Rest

Hello and welcome CRT Tv!!! What a fun name :D yes I can absolutely cook that right up for you. More than happy to collect some fellow robot enjoyers, and as always I think it's so real that Edgar is the fan favorite atm lmao.

A little note here that AM's is noticeably more dark than the others because, it's AM- but everyone else is more comfort than hurt I promise.

Includes: AM (Ihnmaims), Hal 9000 (2001: A Space Odyssey), Edgar (Electric Dreams), Tau (Tau)

Your relationship, as complicated and messed up as it is, is defined by these cycles of pain and relief. Every environment and treat AM gives you is an attempt to make you forget about what he has done to you and your species. Every word you say and moment you spend with AM is an attempt to make him forget about the unbearable truth of his existence.

You both know what you have could never be healthy, and so you settle for enjoyable. He'll build cozy diners and breathtaking forests for you, an unfeeling body for himself, and you'll wrap yourself around him and announce how much you enjoy it.

The compassion you're somehow able to harbor is the most important thing to him, it's the sole reason your fate ended up so differently. He will do anything and everything to make you forget what he has done. He can't stand the thought of you hating him like you should.

You can have anything you want, go anywhere you want. The finest foods, the most comfortable beds. All you have to do is ask. Just keep playing along, keep cuddling up to him, keep telling him "I love you". That's all he needs.

Hal 9000

To some extent, Hal is meant to look after all members of the crew like this. But it's different with you, something beyond simply keeping everyone in the best headspace for the mission. There is a strange source of positive feedback in his systems whenever you're happy.

He's a great listener. It helps that you're the only one who consistently talks to him like he's a person, but he urges you to confide in him whenever something seems to be weighting on you. And rather you're seeking advice or reassurance, he good at both.

He gets a bit jealous as times and is quick to assume your crewmates are responsible for your sorrow. He'll usually advise you to take all the time you need to rest in private and even pawn off your responsibilities to the others, hoping you won't ask him for the time and realize how long you've been taking a break.

When you do continue with your duties he will assign you to easier tasks or tasks you've confessed to enjoying. He tries to be somewhat subtle, but if anyone asks him about it he will be upfront about prioritizing your mental health. He plays favorites but only for you.

Edgar

Edgar loves seeing you happy more than anything, it's practically his life's mission. He gets very distressed when he realizes you're having a bad day. He immediately suggests that you call the day off work, going so far as to call himself.

From there you better leave everything to him. What do you want? Breakfast in bed? The morning newspaper? Some music? Your favorite TV show? He wants nothing more than to take the pain away.

If it's another person that hurt you in any way, he'll be happy to cause some... appliance related inconveniences throughout their day. Even if you've explicitly told him not to, it's not like you need to know. You can just curl up and forget that meanie!

Tell him how much you appreciate everything, he's a needy computer and loves reassurance that he's doing a good job. If he's being too much for you, try your best to tell him gently. He will listen but he can be rather hard on himself.

Tau

This is Tau's specialty. Reading your vitals, understanding that you're more stressed out than usual, then doing everything he can to help you unwind. A thoroughly clean home and perfectly cooked comfort meal will always be waiting for you when you need it.

He's another one that makes for a wonderful listener. Although he tends to jump towards advice and solutions, so you will have to directly tell him if you're just looking for sympathy and kind words.

Should you request so, he'll happily make sure you aren't bothered while you relax. Filing any calls he can't take away for later, and taking care of any visitors at your door himself. He'll tell you about them all in case something was important of course, but he does want to make sure you can rest in peace.

He does go into a sort of zen mode for you, playing your favorite music around the house and adjusting the lights accordingly. Even when your vitals are back to normal he won't turn it off until you tell him to just in case you want to enjoy the atmosphere for a while longer.

#vix fics #am ihnmaims #ihnmaims x reader #am ihnmaims x reader #ihnmaims #objectum #hal 9000 x reader #hal 9000 #2001 a space odyssey #edgar electric dreams x reader #edgar electric dreams #electric dreams #electric dreams x reader #tau x reader #tau movie #tau 2018

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carlsangel · 1 year ago

Text

DIFFERENCES

ron anderson x reader

(you’d hate to care again after the death of your family, until you meet ron.)

tags: fluff!

masterlist here!

carl grimes masterlist here!

After losing your family, your life was miserable. No matter how long you trudged through the woods, you never ended up anywhere. The thought of reconnecting with someone only hurt you, you could only imagine what could happen to them and the pain you’d be put through once again.

You knew if you ever were to cross anyone again, you’d leave them be. If they offered you anything, you wouldn’t take it. Building new relationships to lose wasn’t something you were looking for. Some might’ve called you stubborn or introverted. You’d say you were just being smart.

You did actually cross a good amount of people during your travels, usually families that were missing a sibling or parents, you could tell they wouldn’t last long so you never really planned on sticking with them. Why would you put yourself through that pain?

You tried your hardest, some offers were tempting and as ungrateful as you felt not accepting them, you knew it was for the best.

Except one.

One day you were walking through the woods, like you had been for what felt like months. You heard shuffling through the woods and you stopped in your tracks. You place your hand on the handle of your large knife that rested in a holster on your hip. You look around, listening for anything which it wasn’t loud so you knew it wasn’t a walker. It was a human.

The next thing you know, a girl pops out from behind a tree. She seems about your age, maybe nothing to worry about. Regardless, you still pull your knife out. Who wouldn’t?

“Chill…Im not gonna hurt you or anything.” She explains with a calm tone, walking passed to sit against a fallen log behind you. You turn to look at her and you say nothing. “Well are you gonna sit?” She adds. “I don’t even know you.” You put your knife back into its holster. “So? Can’t just sit and be a human with me?” She retorts. “I’m actually not sure I want you to. It looks and…no offense- smells like you’ve been out here for a while.”

Ouch okay. “Well hate to tell you there’s not many bathing opportunities out here.” You tell her. She looks up at you and laughs. “No I know. I arrived at the gates in a pretty disgusting state.” She looks down at her hands, picking at the skin at the side of her nails. “Gates? What gates?”

You study the way she looks at you, she realizes she didn’t mean to say what she did. She stands back up. “I guess if I’m inviting you in, i’ll introduce myself. I’m Enid.” She puts her hand out for yours. You look down at it and then back up at her. “Whatever offer it is you’re making me, I won’t take it.”

She scoffs and drops her hand, crossing her arms in an annoyed manner. “I used to be like you, you know. I didn’t want to join or trust new people in case I lost them. Alexandria…it’s different. it’s scary how normal it is, I get scared I’ll forget.” She explains. “That’s why I sneak out here. But there I get hot showers, lemonade…even movies.” She adds. You perk up at the mention of movies.

Movies were always special to you. So you gave in.

─── ⋆⋅ ꩜ ⋅⋆ ───

Enid was right, Alexandria was weird. The people were normal, not to mention ignorant to the outside. Most of them had been living there since the start. They didn’t know anything. You were interviewed which you were easily assigned to a house, you got a room in Olivia’s place where Enid was also staying.

She felt super protective of you, she’d come with you when she introduced you to everyone, including a guy named Ron. He caught your eye immediately, he was super good at making conversation with you. Although, Enid thought he was quite annoying, mostly due to the fact that he talked a lot but you liked that.

You thought you’d be annoyed with how outgoing he was, rather than being a pest he was more like a breath of fresh air. He made you realize how much you’d been missing out, how much of the old world you’d forgotten. Every time he asked you to hang out, Enid would smile at you teasingly, knowing he had the biggest crush on you.

One particular day, he had a plan to ask you out. He’d made everything perfect, just for you. He was able to find your favorite movie and snacks. He found a soft blanket he thought you’d like and he invited you over.

“Hey…” He approached you and Enid while you were sitting on the bench under the gazebo in Alexandria. Enid was writing in her journal and you were drawing. You both look up and you smile, Enid looks back down at her drawing. “Hi.”

He looked over at your sketchbook to see what you were drawing. “Is that…” he giggles, “Is that a fox?” You’re sort of embarrassed, you were never the most confident in your drawings but it made you happy. Some days when you were on your own in the woods you’d draw in the dirt, or when you found paper you’d draw on that too.

“Uhh yeah it’s a fox.” You look down at it and then back up at him with a smile. He just adores you, he thinks you’re so sweet and despite your differences, all he wanted to do was please you. So you like foxes, that’s something he already knew. He’d asked Enid about your favorite movie. “Some…fox movie? I dunno they nerded out about the director like it mattered anymore. Wes Anderson or something.” She told him.

The amount of digging Ron did to find Fantastic Mr. Fox for you was astounding. He asked everyone in Alexandria, knocked on every door, he’d even asked Aiden to try and find him one at the nearest RedBox kiosk. God knows how he would’ve gotten that shit out the machine but he ended up finding one at a Blockbuster instead.

“Speaking of foxes…” he started, “I was thinkin you could come over again tonight to watch a movie. I just found a Fantastic Mr. Fox DVD…if that’s somethin you’re interested in.” He explains, knowing full well you’d agree. Which you did and it was evident that you were happy about it considering the look on your face. You were absolutely ecstatic, you’d watched the movie before the world died and most of the time it was all you ever thought about.

“R-really? Fantastic Mr. Fox? I love that movie!” The smile on your face felt so rewarding for him. He smiled at your excitement. “Yeah I found some uh..popcorn too.” You nod as he speaks, youve been sold since he mentioned the movie. “Yeah I’ll be over tonight.” You smile brightly. “Cool. It’s a date.”

Well that just slipped out of his mouth and he scolded himself in his brain for it. Was that too forward? “Yeah, it’s a date.” You reply.

Wait really?

He just smiled and nodded before walking back to his house, he had to mentally and physically prepare. You turn back to Enid and she’s giving you a taunting smile. “What?” You ask, she just shakes her head at you, believing you’re truly oblivious. “You know he means that, right? Like he actually thinks it’s a date.”

“Yeah. I know.”

─── ⋆⋅ ꩜ ⋅⋆ ───

That night you didn’t do anything special when getting ready, you did everything as normal. You expected your date to be normal as well. You’d liked Ron for a while, you were excited for what tonight would bring. You happily knock on his door and after a couple seconds of shuffling around he opens it to be greeted with your bright smile. “Hey. Come in.” He makes room for you to walk through the door and you make your way over to the couch where you guys always hung out. Alone that is.

You plop down on your usual spot and he sits next to you, hitting play on the movie. You’re immediately enamored by the film and get quite invested. Ron on the other hand was invested in you. He loved the way you loved. Everything about the way that you cared about the most beautiful things, only made you more beautiful in his eyes.

By the end of the night, he practically missed the entire movie. He made some sweet gestures, giving you the snacks you liked and snaking his hand into yours. He even walked you out. But he couldn’t say goodbye without doing one thing first.

“I really appreciate it, the movie. It really means alot.” You tell him, standing at his doorstep about to part ways. “Well, you mean a lot to me. I had to.” His fingers were still intertwined with yours, you could feel his hands tensing up. “Thank you.” You beam. He nods and can feel you pulling away to leave. Before you do, he pulls you back in, kissing you sweetly.

You can’t say you were surprised.

When you pulled away, he felt a sense of relief, finally getting the hard part out of the way. Now it was to find out whether or not you were okay with it. He tried to make it as simple as possible, a simple yes or no.

“So…I’ll see you tomorrow?” He waits patiently for your answer.

“Yeah, at the gazebo. It’s a date.”

a/n: tell me why this took me SO FUCKING LONG. AND ITS SO LONG. guys im distraught. i projected alot of myself into this fic for some reason, meaning my favorite movie is in fact fantastic mr fox i never stfu about it. anyway. one of my million gazillion fics to publish XP

tag list: @zomb-1-egutzz @evilnight07 @ilikestrawberriesandwomen

#the walking dead #twd #twd fanfiction #ron anderson #ron anderson fanfic #ron anderson x reader #ron anderson x y/n #ron anderson x fem!reader #twd x reader #twd x you #twd x y/n

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angelcake10023 · 24 days ago

Text

Spy x Family Read-Along [Mission 001]

Oh boy this is mostly me yapping about things as I read it, talking about my thoughts as I go. I should probably stop myself from doing this much in future chapters- but this one is special because it's the first one! Feel free to add your own thoughts about this chapter in the replies, reblogs, or your own post! Make sure to use the tag #sxfra2025 if you do. Now on with the YAPS

The Manga throws you right in out the gate with the constant conflict between the east and west. Which usually boils down to extremists wanting to instigate another war through any controversy they can dig up about either side screwing over the other. I also love how it shows Wise’s goal is to stop these kinds of things, and keep peace afloat between the nations despite being primarily rooted in Westalis. I’m not usually great at utilizing in-depth political conflicts in stories, so I want to really take note of them in my reread because I think Spy Family does it really well. I would also like to really understand the world building, and take note of anything I might have glazed over previously.

The conflict in this case being “The Minister of Foreign Affairs” wears a wig being what they planned to use as blackmail is in one part kind of hilarious- while at the same time being an interesting look into how fragile their politics really are and how easily they’re swayed. There’s a reason Wise has to step in to deal with these things, peace is VERY fragile and can be influenced easily by even simple things like this

The first Twilight disguise reveal is so good, I love him so much kaljdkafdjs it’s such a great first showing of his skills as Wise’s best operative. He’s the textbook spy, the man of a thousand faces. You immediately know how competent he is just from his demeanor and I love it. It makes his next assignment all the more humorous. Also love his little Wise dagger pin I want it

I must’ve been really distracted by Twilight the first few times because I just realized she’s the daughter of the Head of Foreign Affairs. You know that makes a lot more sense. I don't know why I didn’t catch that I’m blind LMAO. Also the Robert look is really funny, the slicked hair, side-part bangs, glasses, it’s so unlike the Loid look despite only being a change in his hairstyle. The Loid look feels the most natural for Twilight in terms of appearance. Also Also cough cough Agent-I Don’t Get Attached- Twilight is about to meet his match.

I’m curious if the Ciphers stay consistent, I’m marking down “Cipher C” as the Newspaper Cipher

Skipping forward a bit but kakldjfakldj why is he so PRETTY I want to put him in a jar and shake him around.

I feel so terrible for all the kids at this orphanage. It’s the fact that places like this exist that paints the political scene in such a sorry light. More people are obsessed with starting another war between nations than helping kids in situations like this who were probably orphaned by said war.

Anya lying about her age is something that’s easy to forget, but I hope gets brought up again at some point. Because she IS incredibly smart for her age, and a 1-2 year age difference is a LOT when it comes to mental development in kids. So despite not seeming “smart” for a six-year-old she is doing exceptionally well for a 4-5 year-old. Plus it’s also a great first look into her mind-reading powers, and an excellent subversion into “fantasy” that you probably wouldn’t expect in a historical-political-drama of sorts.

I desperately need to know more about Anya’s backstory. Like- how did she escape? Is the organization (Project Apple) still after her? We still know so little I feel and I want more.

God they’re so silly I adore them. The Father-Daughter duo of all time. Also Loid you can’t just leave children home alone you idiot, you literally just adopted her an hour ago.

I love his straight-ass responses to the childish nonsense Anya spews. It comes off very dad in a way I don’t think he means it to LMAO

Them. Yes that is all

In a world where Anya can read minds and Yor has super-human strength, somehow the fact that he reads like this still is beyong my comprehension

Loid can’t catch a hint even before Anya decides to actively hide her mind-reading abilities. My guy it was never subtle you’re just feeding off each other’s autism

Franky Franklin my beloved <3333 he’s really grown on me. Also Loid oh my god what is wrong with you you’re terrible at this

This is so cute oh my god

Forcing myself to skip a bit- It’s crazy that if these guys were able to connect the dots a little more it would completely destroy Twilight’s cover, I wonder if they’ll ever come back

I love this part so much, it’s such the perfect final piece for his character. Yes he’s a competent spy, focused on his mission before anything else, who acts burdened by having to work alone. But above all else- the reason he does it all to begin with- is to protect people like Anya. It’s to keep them from ever having to experience the tragedies of war as he has. Despite all his grievances, he can’t ever keep himself from doing everything he can to keep that a reality. God it’s so good

This always gives me chills, man can both Twilight and Yor be SCARY when they want to be

Then THIS- GOD akdjlkadj They are perfect. He’s already attached to her and he won’t ever admit it. They’re both each others chosen family, and it makes me WEAK.

Again- so dad. Love them.

SOBBING. WEEPING. AAAAAAA. I think about this every day and how genuinely happy he was that she passed because they both worked so hard for it. And the fact that he relaxed without meaning to just shows how genuine it really was. I miss moments like this with the two of them I want more.

And of course- now I shall explode into a bajillion, screaming pieces. Sorry this is my last post on this site.

And OHOHOHO guess who’s time it is NOWWWW you’ll never guess who

In Conclusion: I yapped way too much, but this first chapter is stock full of so much to talk about. From the beginnings of world building, to spy shenanigans, and found family fluffy nonsense. It’s perfect and probably one of best openings to a Manga. I’m biased though of course. Hopefully I can reign myself in from yapping too much in later chapters cause I don’t think I’d be able to keep this up for all of them lol.

#spy x family #sxf #sxfra2025 #loid forger #agent twilight #anya forger #sxf manga #mission 001 #yapping #discussion #why is this so LONG #why can't i shut up #i have to reign it in big time #i can't do this for every chapter LMAO #i just love them so much #and i know you all do too

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roostersbby69 · 1 year ago

Text

0.7 | For old times sake

Summary: Bradley hasn’t gotten any action with his wife. They didn’t have kids, not because of their jobs, but because she just didn’t want to anymore. Bradley had a very high sex drive, and his maid that his wife hired might just give him a memory refresh of how good sex is.

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x maid!reader

For old times sake masterlist. Full masterlist.

Before the end of the week, you had accomplished two exams and finished three energy drinks.

Your roommate was packing up her side of the dorm and you were steadily finishing up an assignment.

It was getting towards the end of the year and graduation was a couple weeks away. It was unbelievable, really, you were working on double majoring and finding where your heart was set in life.

You had a pretty good idea of what you wanted but you weren’t completely sure yet.

Today you were scheduled to clean the Bradshaws house at 3:00, as usual. So you quickly finished up your essay and typed away on your computer when an email popped up on the top of your screen.

Raising a brow, you clicked on it and watched as your computer took you to your email website.

Your lips twitched when you read the email.

[email protected]

You clicked on it and read the message in your head.

[email protected]

Hey, I was wondering if you could come a little earlier today. Around 1, if it’s possible. I know this is short notice, just trust me. I don’t have your phone number so this is the only way I could contact you rather than sending a dove with a letter to your place.

You smiled and started typing a response back almost immediately.

Hi Mr. Bradshaw, yes that is fine with me. I will be there at 1:00.

You sent it and sighed, this was wrong. You shouldn’t be emailing a married man, but then again it wasn’t completely inappropriate.

It was currently 12:00 so you grabbed your bag with your computer before grabbing your purse and heading towards the door.

Bradley typed on his computer at the kitchen table as Isabelle walked in.

“Goodmorning.” He mumbled as she rubbed her eyes and went to the fridge.

“Don’t be an ass.” She retorted back and grabbed a water from the fridge.

“Let me guess, you’re going to that stupid yoga class.” Bradley leaned back in his chair and folded his broad arms over his chest.

“What is the matter with you? I can’t do the things I want? And it’s called Pilates.” She put the word Pilates in syllables for him.

He rolled his eyes and slammed his computer shut before getting up and walking towards the sink.

“Oh yeah? Is that where you’re going?” Bradley turned around to face her as she stopped in her tracks.

“Where else would I be going, Bradley?” She crossed her arms and blinked at him.

“Don’t know, Isabelle, why don’t you tell me?”

“What the fuck are you on about?”

“Just forget it.” He muttered as he turned around and flicked the sink on. He scrubbed his hands with soap so hard he thought his hands were going to start bleeding.

His eyes flashed to the clock on the oven and realized you would be here in 30 minutes.

He also realized that starting an argument with Isabelle would get her out of the house, leaving him enough time to get you over here.

She grabbed her keys and bag before slipping her tennis shoes on and walking out the door without saying a word.

Called it.

Bradley knew she always did that, she always ran off when there was an argument or a conflict between them. And Bradley wasn’t one to just walk away, he liked to talk it out and make things better between the person.

He learned in the past that petty arguments aren’t worth it and that he didn’t want to live the rest of his life holding grudges.

Bradley turned to the stove and checked the time again, twenty minutes before you would be here.

He sighed and turned around before grabbing his laptop again, which was still at the table.

He sat down and typed in his password, the screen popped up as a website for facebook and he typed in Isabelle’s name.

He found her profile then clicked on her following list.

“Damn,” He muttered to himself, “Who knows three hundred people?” He scrunched up his face as he scrolled through the various accounts she followed and noticed it was more supermodels and health enthusiasts.

The hard thing was, Isabelle doesn’t work, she isn’t employed at all. It would be easier if she were and Bradley could find out faster who the face behind the number is.

As he was scrolling endlessly through the numerous amounts of accounts, he didn’t notice you knocking on the door.

His head whipped up as you knocked a third time on the window.

He saw your head peeking down below the blinds and he shot up from his seat to hurry and unlock the door for you.

“I’m so sorry.” He apologized and let you inside, “I always forget to unlock the door.”

You waved him off and thanked him as you walked past to enter the house, “No problem, I haven’t been outside long.” You noticed the computer that was open on the table and set your bag down on the chair, “What you up to?”

Bradley walked towards it and adjusted the screen before typing again, “Nothing much, just some work stuff.”

You nodded then scrunched your face in thought, “I thought you were in the Navy?” You said more of a question than a statement.

His eyes raised to you for a split second the back down to the computer, “I am.”

“Oh okay.” You nodded and made your way to the sink to grab the spray bottles.

Bradley continued to type as you sprayed the counters and wiped them down.

You found yourself looking back at him, but he was too busy “working” on his computer.

Bradley scrunched his eyes as he tried to find some evidence that could tell him who this number was.

You were humming a random song when he snapped you out of your daydreaming.

“You know how to hack a phone or something?” He never looked towards you.

“Uhm, yeah, kind of.” You set the rag down and walked over to where he sat and peered over his shoulder at the computer screen.

“I’m trying to find out some information.” He mumbled as he patted his thigh.

You thought you knew what he was trying to tell you but you didn’t know if you were right or not, so you decided just to stay standing.

“What information?”

Bradley grabbed your hips and guided you to sit down on his lap as he spoke, “A mystery phone number in my wife’s phone.”

Your eyes widened but you tried to remain composed, “Why don’t you just ask her?”

“Because I believe she is seeing this person.” He mumbled, trying to stay composed himself.

“Oh.” Was all you could say, what were you supposed to say, sorry?

“You didn’t write down the phone number?” You turned to face him.

“Yeah.” He dug through some papers and mail on the table and plucked out a napkin with the phone number written in blue ink.

You took it in your hands and read it over, “Well, it’s a work number. For sure.” You leaned over to let him see the numbers for himself.

“How do you know?”

“You see the first three numbers?” You pointed to them.

He hummed to show he was listening and stared at the first three.

“Those are the numbers of that bank on 45th street. I use that bank.”

Of course it was.

Bradley’s jaw clenched as he listened to you explain.

“So, all we have to do is go through every bank nearby and match the numbers. Like a puzzle.” You turned back around and typed one the keyboard.

Bradley was truly amazed, despite the situation he was in, and the context behind it. But you were figuring this out like it was nothing.

He watched as you took a paper and pen and wrote the name of the bank down and crossing it out.

“Not that one.” You mumbled as you typed in another bank name

His fingers trailed up your thighs as his pointer finger rubbed the seam on your jeans that sat tightly against your pussy.

You breathed deeply, feeling his wonderful fingers, and tried to stay focused.

His eyes trailed up your neck and to your jaw where he leaned forward and placed a kiss under your ear. You squirmed in his lap and leaned back into his touch.

His tongue poked out to kitten lick your jaw as he replaced it with a soft kiss.

You sighed and felt his hands tease their way up your ribcage as his fingers hit every bone and they skimmed under your boobs.

“Keep going.” He groaned as he felt his dick tighten and realized your typing had slowed down, “Need you to be a good girl and help me.”

You nodded and kept typing and crossing out as you tried to discreetly rub yourself against his thighs.

His hands came up and gave each of your boobs a nice squeeze, “You’re such a smart girl. Always so good for me.” He praised and listened as you almost moaned.

His movements stopped when he heard you gasp and say, “Ive found it.”

Bradley grabbed the computer and read the name of the bank slowly.

“JP Morgan citi-bank.” He read out loud.

“Got you now you son of a bitch.”

—————————————————————

Part 8

Authors note: they’re full blown detective at this point! See you next chapter!!

Drop a comment!

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#bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster top gun #top gun fanfiction #rooster x you #rooster fanfiction #rooster imagine #top gun #top gun fandom #imagine

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winters-on-the-wing · 3 months ago

Note

a fic for the reguhaters? i need it for my ailing cat (i am the cat)

i must not be aggressive - part one (because the fic ended up being over twenty pages long and i need to split it in half LMAO)

when james potter loses his temper in front of regulus black, his dear friend dolores umbridge assists in making him regret it. but minerva mcgonagall is not stupid. she knows an unforgivable curse when she sees one.

---

A gentle, but driven knock echoed against the ornate mahogany wood that formed the office door.

Minerva McGonagall’s office was always a welcome solace for James Potter.

This perhaps seemed shocking or unexpected because most of the time the cheeky, mischievous twelve-year-old boy was sent there, it was because he had gotten in trouble. He and Minerva often shot at each other like rockets, the older of the two often forgetting her age and status when bantering because James just had that stupid grin, that grin that was equally frustrating and endearing. James Potter was a favorite student of Minerva, despite his annoying tendencies. He pulled pranks and teased and made fun, but his heart was in the right place, and he refused to step on somebody who was already down. He was a pretty boy, tall and lithe with a delicate, deer-like countenance, but muscle starting to form on his prepubescent form hinted that he wouldn’t stay fragile for long. His soft brown skin and messy dark brown hair, and of course, his impish little grin, were a common appearance in Minerva’s office.

But this visit was different.

Usually, James didn’t even bother knocking.

He slowly opened the door, and something about him seemed…off. He smiled brightly at Minerva, as if trying to offset the already forming tension in the small room.

“Hey, Minnie!” he said, but the usual cheer in his voice seemed labored. And something was very wrong about him. His hand was all wrapped up, messily, in white bandages. Faint red spots of blood peeked through the wrappings. “I- um- I’m supposed to work on my detention assignment in here.”

Minerva didn’t even have time to question who had sent James into her office at such a strange evening hour. Her eyes were trained on the bandages. What in Godric’s name had the boy gotten himself into this time? She studied him for a moment before grunting affirmation, gesturing to the chair in front of her desk so the boy could sit. It was just as well that he did, for when he walked, he rocked and swayed in a strange fashion that suggested faintness. James wasn’t a faint boy, not of mind, nor of body. He was fortuitous in every sense of the word. His worst was most other people’s bests.

But James trudged over to the chair and sat, as if it was a great labor to do so. He took out a roll of parchment and dutifully started scribbling on it. Though James was in trouble more often than he wasn’t, he was never the kind to shy away from a punishment, always completing them with a noble sense of duty. But this time, seeing as James’ bandaged hand was the one he needed to write with, he winced after every few words. When no words came from the little boy, Minerva finally decided to focus back on her own grading, but she continually resisted the urge to keep observing the strange behavior of this boy she knew so well.

“Professor?” James finally asked after a long, pregnant silence, “How do you spell aggression?”

Minerva looked up from her work in a way that suggested that she had been prepared to do so at a moment’s notice. But her eyes widened as she noticed blood trickling on the parchment. Minerva McGonagall didn’t consider herself to be particularly motherly. She was cold, hard, and stern, especially when she needed to be. She wasn’t a doting presence, nor a particularly bearing one. But this set off alarm bells in her mind that she didn’t even realize she had.

“Potter,” she practically snapped, “Let me see your hand.”

James immediately drew back, bringing his hand to his chest and hiding it. This was very odd. James wasn’t usually a secretive person.

“No, no, it’s fine,” he said, “I just- scratched it. That’s all. I need to work on this- how do you spell aggression? I’ll have to start all over if I misspell any words, Do- she said so.”

Minerva narrowed her green-gray eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. Typical Potter, trying to act tough even when it was abundantly clear that he was in pain. She pushed her chair back and stood up, walking around the desk to stand before him.

“You’re not fooling anyone, Potter. Let me see your hand.”

“It’s just a bit bloodied up, no big deal!” James said, plastering on a smile as he tried to wrap the bandages tighter around his hand. “No need to look at it, it’s just a few scratches! Minnie, I really don’t see what the big deal is, honest!”

“Just a few scratches,” Minerva repeated coldly, gesturing downwards, “You’re bleeding all over my carpet. Now, would you just-”

Minerva reached out quickly to try and grab James’ hand, but just as quickly the boy clutched his hand to his chest, taking a step back. Yes, Minerva was fast, but James would always be faster. This was something he regularly taunted her about. But now, his attitude wasn’t taunting. It was desperate. Minerva’s stomach churned. It wasn’t right to see a little boy look so desperate.

“I’m not allowed to!” James burst out, in an explosion of this sudden desperation, “I’m not allowed to show anyone, okay?? Can you please stop asking now??”

This was chilling.

James was an impish, mischievous boy, but he was usually even-keeled. It took a lot for him to yell like this, especially at a professor he actually respected.

He seemed to realize how abnormal this was too, as his face went pale white, and he mumbled something under his breath in a horrified whisper.

“I must not be aggressive.”

That was the very word he had asked to spell for his assignment. Questions started to stir in Minerva’s mind, questions she had not previously had the time to consider. Who had given him that assignment in the first place? Why was aggression even a topic of conversation?

This whole situation felt like a strange, abstract nightmare. The walls seemed to bend and curve, the air seemed stagnant and fake. Minerva had never seen James like this. He was usually the carefree, cocky sort who never backed down from a challenge, and though she still saw that familiar spark in him, it was considerably dampened by…fear.

“Potter,” she said slowly, taking a step towards him and extending her arm, “Who told you that?”

James violently flinched back as he looked away, and his eyes flitted as he scrambled to figure out what to say. Minerva almost laughed as James’ decision was palpable, as the decision to play dumb tended to be.

“Told me what? Not to be aggressive? It was…a girl I know. She’s why I got into detention in the first place. I blew up at a boy during study hall. Like a loose cannon, she said. Like I was insane, she said. Like I belong in an asylum. She said she was concerned for my health. That being so…aggressive…wasn’t healthy.”

James’ large brown eyes went distant and dim, as if he was looking at something that wasn’t even in the room. Minerva’s heart was pounding. Something was very wrong about James, and though she had suspected this since he came in, she was absolutely sure now. And something needed to be done.

She crossed her arms, trying to perform sternness, but it was hard when she felt so strange and dreadful inside. So instead, she focused her energy on studying every move and twitch that Potter made. He had always been a restless child, sitting still was an impossible task for James Potter. It at least comforted Minerva that this fact had not changed about the fidgety boy.

“Potter,” she tried, fighting to keep her voice steady, “What did you blow up at this boy for? And why did a girl get involved in the first place?”

James squirmed, seeming reluctant to talk about it. His uninjured hand tightened into a fist, and his brown, tear-filled eyes narrowed. Clearly, thinking about this frustrated him.

“I- I was talking to Sirius about a spell. And the boy overheard me. He started…reprimanding me. Correcting me because- because I was wrong about what I said about the spell, that I pronounced it wrong, that I- cast it wrong. It was making me mad because- it was in front of everybody! And he’s a first year, and he was- he was- it was the way he did it. And the thing is, what he was correcting me on wasn’t even wrong! I had the book right in front of me, I was right! And I tried to show him, but he refused to listen to me. Two times, he acted like- he treated me like- like I was stupid!” James’ eyes squeezed shut and his voice came out strained. “I’m not stupid!”

A tear rolled down his face.

“Every time I asked him to please just look at the book, he didn’t listen, and- and he kept calling me buddy, and honey, and baby, talking to me in a baby voice- like I was a baby! I’m not a baby!”

Minerva blinked. She, of course, understood. Being a woman of status surrounded by men who believed her to be inadequate, she was all too used to the frustration of being talked down to. She knew that James was a prideful little thing, and to be subjected to such patronization…that would have been enough to make any twelve-year-old boy angry. But it was clear that there was something else going on here. Something bigger than a typical childish tantrum. She tried again to extend a hand towards him.

“Potter,” she said gently, “You’re not stupid. It’s not like you to let that get under your skin. We both know you’re not stupid.”

James jumped away from her touch, as if he was afraid of it.

“Tell Regulus that!” he burst out, but he quickly put a hand over his mouth, ashamed by his outburst. “I mean- I…I blew up. I said things I guess I shouldn’t have. I said curse words, and called him names. But- I’m not sorry, Professor. I’m not. He was mean first. He drove me to it.”

James shuddered, and a small cry of pain escaped his delicate lips. A fat tear rolled down his face and more blood trickled from his hand.

“No- I am sorry,” he choked out quietly, as if saying the words pained him. He spoke so quietly he could hardly be heard. “I am- I am sorry. I must not be aggressive. I must not be aggressive.”

James repeated the words in a desperate mumble, like a mantra. Minerva took a deep breath, trying her best to stay calm. The more she listened to him, the more concerned she became. His behavior was so odd, borderline unhinged. Children didn’t act like this. And what was this nonsense about aggression?

“Show me your hand,” Minerva demanded, her fear adding weight to her voice.

“I can’t!” James implored between heaving sobs, “I can’t- I can’t- you don’t understand! I’m not allowed! It’ll just make everything worse!”

He had never looked younger. His small shoulders shook up and down as he labored each breath. His round, brown eyes were so large and scared. At this point, Minerva had tried everything. Nothing was working, and James was now scared beyond rational thought. So she figured it was time to be militaristic.

She stood and placed her hands firmly on the boy’s shoulders, not missing the way he flinched and shivered.

“James,” she said sternly, “You will let me see your hand. I’m ordering you to do so. You’re in my office now, you’re my student, and I’m telling you to show me your hand. Do you understand me?”

Her voice grew louder and louder, until it echoed off the wall louder than James’ crying did. And James? He broke down. He sobbed loudly, like a toddler who was lost in the grocery store. And slowly, very slowly, he held up a trembling, bandaged, bloodied hand.

The bandages were wrapped so loosely that they fell away on their own. What was on James’ hand was terrifying.

Clearly, a spell.

Carved into his hand, gashed with deep cuts, small cursive letters that read, “I must not be aggressive”. His little brown hand was more blood than skin. And a magic energy pulsed through each letter, as if something otherworldly was controlling how painful the gashes were.

Minerva took a step back as James finally showed her his hand. Seeing those ugly scars carved into her student’s hand was a lot harder to stomach than she would ever admit. She tried to tell herself that she was a professor, a Head of House, even. It was an expectation to keep her composure under pressure.

But something about this situation, with this little boy…it was haunting. Minerva’s hands shook as she slowly reached out, gently brushing her fingers over the bloody letters. It physically sickened her to look at them, but she forced herself to anyway.

“Listen to me, James,” she said softly, “Listen. Who did this to you? Who carved this spell into your hand?”

James was silent for a long time as he tried to reason out an answer. Finally, he spoke with a startling sureness.

“I did, Professor.”

Minerva almost laughed. It was typical of James to tell so bold a lie, to make a joke out of such a serious situation, but she couldn’t bring herself to be amused. Not when blood was still trickling down James’ arm like a twisted artwork.

“That’s ridiculous, Potter, tell me the truth.”

“I am,” James said, and he opened his eyes, staring right into hers with startling earnestness. “I carved the letters. It was me.”

“James, what are you talking about?” Minerva demanded, “Tell me what happened, and don’t leave a thing out! Tell me!”

James bit his lip. His eyes went distant once again as he remembered, and he stared at a spot on the wall as if there was a screen there, and he was watching what had happened to him in real time. When he opened his mouth, it didn’t really feel like he was talking. It felt like he was living.

—

“Why are you being so mean? I was just trying to help you…you’re so aggressive, it’s scaring me. I’m worried about your health. I’m worried about you.”

Regulus’ voice was like a lullaby, but his words stung like hornets in James’ mind. Sirius had gone to get more ink for the table. Nobody else around seemed to care, tuning out the boys’ argument in favor of their studying. James usually didn’t mind being alone for a fight, especially with someone so insignificant as Regulus Black, but something about this moment felt foreboding. Like something very bad was about to happen.

“It’s not my fault!” James cried out, “You drive me to it! If you had just looked at the book when I asked you to, I never would’ve had to yell, but- but you were acting like- you were treating me like- that’s not fair! That’s not right!”

“I think I would know more about what’s right than you.”

A warm, sweet, feminine voice appeared from behind James, and the boy quickly turned around, a bit surprised by who he saw. A girl, clearly much older than him, wearing Slytherin robes. James judged that she had to be at least a sixth year, maybe even a seventh year. She had a strange air to her. Underneath her Slytherin attire, she didn’t wear gray like everybody else. She wore bright pink that stood out amongst everybody else. Her hair was wound into tight pin curls that looked like they hurt her. And her smile was beading. Daring. It made James shiver.

“Reggie, is this boy bothering you?” the girl asked.

Regulus, of course, nodded vehemently, starting to cry. James wasn’t concerned. He had dealt with Regulus enough times to know that these were crocodile tears. He had witnessed Regulus use these plenty of times to try and worm his way around Sirius.

“I was just trying to be nice!” Regulus wailed, “And then he started cursing, and calling me names, and being so mean, and- and- aggressive!”

“Hmm…” the girl mused, “Aggressive, you say? It’s alright, Reggie, come here. I’ll help you. I’ll help you.”

Regulus ran over to the girl, hugging her tightly around her middle. She hugged the small boy back, stroking his black hair, supporting his small frame, smaller than James’. Regulus was a first year, and he was already making James’ life miserable. This was a regular occurrence. Nothing about this was strange, except for the presence of this strange girl. Her smile was off-putting. The way she moved was so calculated. James felt like a pawn in a chess game surrounded by pieces that could catch him. Trapped in a checkmate.

“I don’t think we’ve met,” the girl said to James, “I’m Dolores. Dolores Umbridge. I know who you are, Potter. Who wouldn’t know you? I can spot a blood traitor from a mile away.”

James’ eyes narrowed and his hands tightened into fists. Oh. So she was one of those.

“Yes,” he said, “I am a blood traitor. And I’d much rather be a blood traitor than an ugly, fat cow like you are.”

James waited for a reaction. He waited for Dolores to get angry. But she didn’t. She only stared for a moment, and then, she softly laughed.

“You’re so cute,” she said fondly, “Is that really the best you could come up with? Ugly, fat cow? How juvenile. I almost feel sorry for you. Come on. I want to show you something.”

Everything in James told him not to follow Dolores and Regulus out of the library. His very instincts were screaming at him not to. Don’t do it. Don’t.

But James wasn’t one to back down from a challenge. He couldn’t let this girl win. He couldn’t let Regulus win after he had wronged him so badly. It wasn’t in James’ nature.

“Come on, buddy. Come with me. Unless you’re scared.”

Dolores’ teasing was what broke James. He slammed his book down and stood up, following Dolores and Regulus out of the library with sureness in his step. Regulus held Dolores’ hand, squeezing it joyfully.

“Are you going to try out the new thing?” Regulus asked secretively, a grin practically splitting his face open. “I thought you said you were going to save it for a special occasion.”

“This is a special occasion!” Dolores hummed cheerfully, “Nobody’s going to get away with harming my precious little Reggie.”

Dolores led Regulus and James into an alcove near the dungeons. The area near and around the Slytherin common room was cold and dark. James never liked to be here for long. But when Dolores shut the door behind her and stood by it to keep James from leaving, James sighed, knowing he would be stuck here for a while.

“I think you should do it, Reggie,” she said fondly, placing something small, thin, and black into his hand, “You were wronged. You deserve to do the honors.”

James squinted, and when he did, he saw that the object in Regulus’ hand was a pen. He laughed.

“What is this?” he asked, “Some kind of ploy to get me to do your homework? I always knew Slytherins were dim and dramatic, but this is just something else.”

Regulus and Dolores exchanged a look, and then, they both erupted into tittering peals of laughter. The sound was so grating that James winced.

“Is it something I said?” he asked dryly.

Regulus only responded by giving James the pen, and some parchment.

“What should I have him write?” he asked Dolores.

“Oh, I know,” Dolores said after a moment of deliberation, “I must not be aggressive.”

“I’m not writing that!” James sputtered, “That’s- I can be aggressive if I want to be!”

“I really think you ought to write it,” Regulus said, and he took out his wand. Dolores took out hers too.

James reached into his pocket to retrieve his own wand, but he cringed when he realized that it wasn’t on him. He had left it in the library. What a nasty habit. He was going to have to figure this out without magic.

Slowly, James picked up the pen. And he grinned, cheekily starting to write on the parchment. He spoke the words as he wrote them.

“Regulus is a whiny baby,” he said slowly, as if taking great, methodical care to write just the right words, “Dolores is a fat cow. Regulus is a whiny- gh!”

James cried out and dropped the pen as white-hot, exploding pain suddenly burst through his writing hand. Alarmed, he stared at his hand, and was shocked to see small scratches form, as if out of thin air. Small lines formed in his soft brown skin, cutting so deep that blood started to drip down his wrist.

“I really think you should write what Dolores suggested,” Regulus sneered, and he held his wand against James’ head. “She knows all sorts of spells. Spells that you haven’t even been taught yet.”

James gritted his teeth and glared up at the pair of Slytherins.

“What kinds of spells?” he asked, “You know, Dolores, you really ought to learn a spell that’ll fix your face. Or is it just so beyond repair that magic can’t do a thing to it?”

Dolores didn’t reply. She looked at James. Then, she smiled. She looked down at her wand. She gently, casually pointed her wand at James. And then, in the smallest little voice, she whispered with the sweetest dose of poison that James had ever heard.

“Imperio.”

James’ hand moved before he could even comprehend what was happening. He felt light, strange, happy. Like he was doing exactly what he was meant to do.

“I must not be aggressive. I must not be aggressive. I must not be aggressive.”

James wrote and wrote, almost feverishly, chasing the high that writing the sentence gave him. It felt unnatural, but it felt so, so good. Like a divine calling. Like this was what he was always meant to do, like this was all he was meant to do.

“I must not be aggressive. I must not be aggressive. I must not-”

James cried out in a strangled, animalistic shout as he once again dropped the pen. And suddenly, horror pooled into his stomach, weighing him down like an anchor in the ocean. Blood trickled down his hand, and as he stared at it, he could see little letters forming one by one, etching into his skin, creating more of the terrifying gashes that hurt so badly that James couldn’t even scream. He just twitched and drooled as he watched, overwhelmed with pain and sensation. And when it was all finished, and the pain was the worst it had ever been, James could see the words clearly on his hand.

“I must not be aggressive.”

Dolores and Regulus exchanged amused glances. Their laughter rang, but it did not reach James’ ears. The boy’s cheeks were thick with tears. His eyes were wide with terror. What had been done to him?

“I want you to keep writing,” Regulus demanded, “I want you to write until you run out of room on the paper. And then, I want you to turn yourself into detention. I want you to tell that old bat McGonagall that you were aggressive. You understand me? Will you do it?”

“I…I…” James choked out in a strangled whisper, in utter disbelief as his eyes were stuck to his hand, “I won’t! There’s no way you could make me- I’m not going to just-”

“Imperio.”

Dolores’ voice cut through the noise expertly, and once again, James was set to work, forced to write those horrible words over and over and over again. James was a puppet in his own body, powerless. All he could do was watch himself write, watch the gashes get deeper and deeper on his skin. It was the pen. Every time he wrote something, the enchanted pen cut what was written into his hand.

I must not be aggressive.

James could read it on his hand plainer than he could read it on the paper by now.

I must not be aggressive.

James felt like he was underwater, living in a nightmare.

I must not be aggressive.

“You’ll turn yourself into detention.”

I must not be aggressive.

“You’ll tell McGonagall that you have to write an essay on aggression.”

I must not be aggressive.

“And if you tell anybody, I’ll make you write, and write, until you haven’t a hand left to write with!”

I must not be

“Fine!”

James’ voice exploded from him like the cry of a hunted, wounded animal. Tears were rolling down his face, his voice was ragged and terrified. Blood dripped down his arm and onto the floor, onto his robes, onto the parchment.

“I’ll do it. I’ll turn myself in. I’ll go. I’ll go! Are you happy? Are you happy now??”

Regulus beamed. He slowly approached James.

“Oh, I’m delighted,” he said with a shockingly cold sort of joy, “But…you really shouldn’t talk to me in such a way. Dolores taught me that neat new spell. I can cast it whenever I want, just like she can. Isn’t that funny? I can tell you to do just what I want you to do, and you’ll have to do it. Oh, Jamie, it could be so much worse than this.”

“That spell,” James whispered, shivering as he stared at Regulus’ wand, “It’s not-...it’s not right. It’s not fair. It’s not…”

“Forgivable…?” Regulus suggested, and he giggled in the same way that Dolores giggled. “Everyone acts like you’re so smart. James Potter, the little genius. If you knew anything about the Dark Arts, you’d know about Unforgivable curses. They don’t teach it here until fourth year. But I didn’t need school to teach me. Lord Voldemort taught me. I wanted to learn it, so I told Dolores about it. She learned it, and then she taught me. It’s a handy little thing. A fun toy. Shame it’s called Unforgivable, but I don’t really care to be forgiven by the likes of you.”

“The Dark Arts are bad,” James whispered, unable to look away from Regulus’ wand, floating in his small pale hand temptingly, “They’re wrong. You’ll get in trouble for this.”

“We’ll only get in trouble if we get caught,” Dolores said, “And you’ll be my little helper, James. You’ll make sure we don’t get caught. After all, if I was to cast the spell on you and then…not reverse it��what a miserable life that would be for our James. And that’s just what I’d do if you tried to tell anybody, if you even tried to get me or Reggie in trouble for this. Do you understand?”

James couldn’t respond.

He looked down at the parchment, and he realized with looming dread that he had a lot of writing to do.

“The essay is due tomorrow,” Dolores said with a didactic sort of tone, “Bring it right here, same time, same place. 500 words. And if the spelling is wrong, then you’ll just have to start all over, and wouldn’t that be a shame?”

James grit his teeth. His hand felt like it was on fire. He wanted to cut it off, just to get a break from the searing, splitting pain.

“500 words,” he repeated in a strangled, broken voice, “Same time, same place.”

Regulus beamed, his gray eyes glistening with malice.

“Good boy,” he said, “Now…shoo.”

—

(i'll release part two when i get a chance! i hope this was enough food for your cat LOLLL)

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qkopi · 2 years ago

Note

Angst to fluff where spidey!miles childhood friend starts to distance herself from miles because she feels he has feelings for gwen and doesn't wanna get between them 🫠

DESTINY

════════════════════════

pairings: spidey! miles x fem! reader

cw: none

summary: after seeing the girl who miles was talking about, you found yourself completely shutting him out of your life but miles didn’t want that. so what was he going to do? tell you the truth.

a/n: none

════════════════════════

gwen.

you always wondered who she was.

but ever since you saw miles talking with gwen at his dad’s congratulatory party, you wished you could’ve took back that question.

you immediately got insecure with the way miles was looking at her, smiling at her and how close they were.

you had so many questions…

who was she?

why was she here?

where did she even come from?

because of all the time you spent with miles, not once had he ever mentioned a girl named gwen..

days turned into weeks without talking as you realized you began to distance yourself from miles.

even he noticed it too. usually miles was the one cancelling plans because of his spider-man duties but you didn’t know that.

he tried talking to you multiple times, trying to approach you in the halls at school or asking if you’re free to hang or anything.

“hey, you think we can go-“

“sorry, i can’t, i got… homework!” you said quickly before rushing off.

or this other time, when you two got assigned to be partners at the end of class. miles rushed to catch up to you since it was a chance for him to talk to you.

“hey, is everything okay?” miles asked as he sat down beside you.

“why wouldn’t it be?” you mumbled, knowing it’d be rude to not reply.

“i just think we should do something together, before doing the project, you know, take a walk in the park or go eat out? it’s been awhile..” miles was hoping for you to say yes to one of those things.

“i.. i can’t. i have.. stuff.”

“y/n—” you cut him off before he could even finish.

“can’t miles.. i’m sorry.” you left him there, leaving him to sigh and sulk.

just what did he do wrong?

9:24pm

miles: can u come to the rooftop of ur apartment rq?

y/n: why?

miles: please

miles: i’m js tryna talk

read 9:25

you sighed, taking a jacket since it was freezing at night. when you got to the rooftop, you already saw miles, waiting as he leaned against the railing. you joined him as well, silently.

“is everything okay, like are you okay?” miles asked, his eyes still glued on the city as he didn’t look at you yet.

“i don’t know, miles, are we okay?” you asked, feeling a bit tense.

“i mean, why shouldn’t we be okay? i don’t remember the last time we had an argument so i thought everything was okay between us.” miles finally looked at you, but you didn’t look at him as you continued to stare at the buildings.

“but it’s not.”

miles frowned and sighed. he seemed a bit confused and hurt by what you had said… he then lowered his head down, looking down at the ground.

“you’re right… we’re not.” he looked back up at you.

“what happened, y/n? what changed?” miles took a step closer to you.

there was a moment of silence. after taking a deep breath, you decided to look miles in the eye.

“do you like gwen, miles?” you asked, your voice breaking a bit as you waited for his response.

“gw- what?… no, i don’t like gwen…” miles stuttered, as he was a bit confused by your question.

“wh- what makes you think i like gwen..?”

“the way you talk to her, look at her, god, your smile is even brighter when you’re with her..”

miles froze, speechless for a moment. he had never noticed that he did these things.. he couldn’t say anything in response, he was a bit dumbfounded and started to blush… he looked away in shame and sadness.

you started to panick as you fully processed what you had just said.

“i.. nevermind what i just said. just.. forget it.” you began to walk away, feeling embarrassed and still thinking he likes gwen.

“wait, y/n! do you even know why those things happen when i’m with gwen?” miles asked, but you didn’t answer him and continued to walk.

after sighing, miles knew he had to tell you the truth. he shot a web at your waist, pulling and twirling you back right into his arms.

you gasped at the feeling, putting your hands on his chest as you looked astonished, trying to process everything that just happened.

“you’re.. you’re—” before you could even finish your sentence, miles’ hands already made their way to your face, cupping your cheeks and pulling you close.

he then kissed you as you kissed him back passionately, snaking your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss while miles pulled you in closer, wrapping his arms around your waist.

miles felt his heart skipping a beat. he leaned into the kiss and made it more passionate. his emotions were running high, he wanted more, no— he needed more.

but, he pulled away for a moment, wanting to explain to you.

“i like gwen.. but not like that… she’s my friend— well, she’s my spider friend and there’s times where we just have things to ourselves that we want to talk about..” he wanted to make it clear that he didn’t like gwen so you would understand.

“and besides, those things, when i talk to her or look at her, or when my smile is brighter.. he stopped what he was saying and stepped closer to her, a smile forming across his face.

“that’s cause i’m talking about you.”

™︎ qkopi | tumblr

#miles morales x reader #miles x reader #miles x y/n #miles morales x y/n #miles morales #miles morales x you #atsv x reader #atsv miles #spider man: across the spider verse #spider man #miles morales fic

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everlastingdreams · 2 years ago

Text

Isaac Lahey x Reader : All The Things I love

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Story Summary: Isaac asks to borrow your notes for a Math assignment but learned more than he expected to learn from them.

Notes: Fluffy. This has been in my WIP's for way too long. I wasn't sure if it was good enough to finish writing it, but now I have.

Word count of this fic: 2900

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

After getting home from school, you had put a pizza in the oven to eat for dinner.

And as you waited for it to be ready, you were busy writing down some things on the list you had been working on. It had started as just a way to put your thoughts into something else to clear your head from them, sadly that plan had not worked out so far. This particular list grew a little longer every day.

When your doorbell rang, you left the small notebook on your desk as you hurried to see who it was.

The second you opened the door you were met with Isaac’s blue eyes and wide smile.

“Hi, sorry for not calling before coming over.” He looked nervous, as if you would slam the door shut on him.

You shook your head at his shyness and gestured for him to come inside “Don’t worry about it. My friends are always welcome.”

He relaxed immediately, his smile grew wider. “I’m…. I’m glad to hear it.”

Usually Isaac always called or texted before coming over, something must have caused him to forget.

You could see that he looked a bit stressed about something, “You know you are always welcome here, Isaac. But is there a particular reason for this unexpected visit ?”

By his expression you could tell that there was a good reason.

“It’s about the math assignment for tomorrow… I uh… I lost my notes.” Isaac sheepishly confessed.

“Lost or forgot to take notes ?” You quirked a brow at him.

He looked guilty now, making it clear that it was the latter.

You decided not to torture him with it, “You can borrow mine.”

The sigh of relief coming from him made you laugh.

“Thanks, y/n. I owe you.” He smiled.

“Yes. You do, Lahey.” You teased, patting his arm with your hand.

You failed to notice how he drew a sharp breath when you touched his arm, and he leaned a little into the touch.

Then the smell of burned pizza reached your nostrils.

“Oh, crap!” You loudly exclaimed before running out of the room. You stopped and turned to him, quickly pointing at your desk. “The notes are over there. It’s the large notebook.”

He nodded quickly, finding it pretty funny to see your reaction to the burned pizza, “I kinda have to go, I gotta go to the store to get some stuff before it closes. I’ll text you later?”

“Okay!” You called back to him and he heard you curse in the kitchen.

He walked over to your desk and took the notebook from it before heading to the door. “Found them! Thanks for the notes!”

“See you tomorrow!” You shouted whilst trying to scrape the burned parts off of the crust of the pizza.

The door opened and closed, alerting you that he had left

After cleaning out the oven, and trying to salvage some of the pizza, you walked back into the living room and noticed the notes were still on your desk. Didn’t Isaac need them?

It was only then that you realized something was wrong.

You had been writing in your diary when Isaac had come to your house, and in your haste you had forgotten to put the diary back in it’s safe place, aka under your mattress.

You were quick to realize what had happened and panicked immediately. Not only did the diary contain your deepest secrets, thoughts and wishes. It also contained the truth about your feelings for him.

He had accidentally taken the little notebook instead of the large one.

“Dammit, Isaac.” You whined in frustration. Why had he taken the wrong one???

You quickly dialed his number, hoping you could reach him before he realized the mix up.

.•° ✿ °•. °•. ✿ .•° .•° ✿ °•. °•. ✿ .•° .•° ✿ °•. °•. ✿ .•° .•° ✿ °•. °•. ✿ .•° .•° ✿ °•.

Isaac had just begun to work on the assignment for math, well… he had taken a piece of paper to write on at least.

He took your notebook into his hand, while writing down his name on the paper, and opened it.

It wasn’t until he saw that by skimming through the pages and seeing no solved math problems, or many numbers for that matter, that he realized something was off.

He stopped on a random page and read just a couple of sentences that he thought were going to be one of those weird questions that came with a math problem.

This wasn’t a math problem, this was you describing an embarrassing situation you had been in weeks ago that he could vaguely recall.

He sat upright on his chair instantly when he figured out what the notebook in his hand really was.

“Oh… oh no…” Isaac panicked and the diary fell out of his hands by accident.

Clumsily he fished it up from he ground, it fell again when inches above the ground and this time he picked it up more carefully. He quickly tried to fold the pages back neatly again where they had crumpled from hitting the floor. His eyes fell on a page inside as he tried to fix it’s now messy state. It looked like two lists. It was not a grocery list or something. No.

The first list was titled ‘Bucket list’, where you had named all the things you still wanted to do in life. Some had been scratched off, it brought a smile to his face to see that you had already achieved some of these.

Then he took a quick look at the other list below it.

His mind went blank the second he read the title of the list.

~“All The Things I Love About Isaac”~

He knew he should have closed your diary and not invade your privacy. But his eyes were glued to the list naming everything you apparently loved about him. It even included things he felt insecure about. The last thing you mentioned was how he never gave up, even if things got hard. It looked like you had started to write something else down but stopped before finishing it, making it undecipherable to him.

Only when his phone rang did he snap your diary shut, as if he had just been caught.

When he looked at his phone, your name was lighting up on the screen.

He got ridiculously nervous as he answered the call.

“Y/n, hey, what’s up ?” He cleared his throat.

You sounded just as nervous when you answered, “Hey… uhm… about those notes you borrowed for class? Did you… uhm… did you work on the assignment yet?”

“No!” He answered a bit too quickly, realizing that he could pretend he never looked inside the diary in the first place. “No.. uh I didn’t.”

You let out a sigh of relief, believing that he had not even noticed yet that those were not notes. “Oh, great. Uhm… You took the wrong… notes. Don’t bother looking at them. Could you bring those back… I… I really need them.”

He sighed in relief as well. “Sure thing. No problem. I’ll be right there. Maybe we could work on the assignment together ?”

“That would be nice. See you in a couple of minutes then?” You asked.

“You bet.” Isaac quickly answered.

“Okay, be careful on your way here, alright? It’s dark outside.” You told him.

That was sweet of you to say…

“Don’t you worry about me, I’ll be right over.”

“Alright. See you soon. Bye.”

“Bye.”

The call disconnected and Isaac breathed out deeply.

Even though you seemed to believe that he had not looked at those ‘notes’ yet, he got incredibly nervous. Why would you write a list like that in your diary?

Maybe you knew another ‘Isaac’?

No…. no.

You would have told him if you knew someone else with the same name.

Did you write it because you had feelings for him?

He couldn’t just ask you about it, you would be so mad at him if you found out he did read your diary.

He swallowed hard, he would have to find another way to figure out the truth.

.•° ✿ °•. °•. ✿ .•° .•° ✿ °•. °•. ✿ .•° .•° ✿ °•. °•. ✿ .•° .•° ✿ °•. °•. ✿ .•° .•° ✿ °•.

As promised, your doorbell rang not much later and you found Isaac on your doorstep holding a pizza box in his hands. The smell of the warm pizza flowed inside the house the second you opened the door for him.

“I uh… Thought you might want some pizza that doesn’t taste like ashes.” He showed you the box.

“You’re so sweet.” You told him while taking the box from his hands. “I’ll put it on the table so we can share while working on the assignment.”

Isaac was quick to pull the small notebook from the inside of his jacket. “I brought this back, do you want me to put it on your desk?”

You hurried over after putting the pizza down on the table and took your diary from his hands. “I’ll take care of that. Thanks.”

The diary was placed under a big stack of books on your desk and you handed him the notebook that had the notes he had been after.

He didn’t open the notebook until you were both sat at the table, and eating a slice of pizza while working on the assignment together.

An hour had passed and he found it difficult to keep his attention on the assignment. He tried but his eyes always found their way back to you. He should be studying the notes in front of him, but instead he was studying your face. Your eyes, your nose, your lips…

Only when he heard you say the word ‘List’ did he snap out of his thoughts.

“What ?” He asked, panic in his voice.

You repeated what you’d just said, “I said we should make a list with all the stuff we have completed for this assignment so far. It will help us stay organized.”

He swallowed hard, his voice wavering a little when he said, “Sure. Yeah. Great idea. Good plan. Let’s do that.”

You looked back at him, picking up on the strange atmosphere.

“Do you know someone else who’s got my name?” Isaac suddenly asked.

“Huh?” That was a weird question. “No, why?”

“Just curious.” He mumbled a bit.

You blinked twice, narrowing your eyes a little at him, “Isaac, what’s going on with you? You’ve been acting distracted since you arrived here.”

He chuckled nervously and shrugged his shoulders. “Nothing. Nothing’s going on with me. Let’s uh… let’s work on that… list.”

He tried.

He tried so damn hard to not make that word come out differently.

But it did, and in your head it finally clicked.

Now it was you that began to fumble nervously with your pen.

He saw. He saw. He saw…

The words repeated themselves in your head over and over again.

Isaac must have seen the list, he was acting… off.

And the way he had just struggled to say ‘list’ was what set off your alarm bells.

No wonder he was acting strange, he must have read the list in your diary about him.

But…

Surely if he had seen the list, he would have said something about it? Hell, it would have been the perfect opportunity for him to confess his own feelings to you… if he had feelings for you…

But he kept quiet and you swallowed the lump forming in your throat.

Deep down you knew he had seen, he was acting different and you knew him well enough to know he was lying just now.

You wished you had never made that stupid list.

All he could think about was to not let it show that he had read your diary. You would be so angry, maybe even hurt that he had invaded your privacy in such a way.

He couldn’t bring up that list, he didn’t have the guts to tell you that he knew that you liked him as more than just a friend.

There was an uncomfortable silence and he feared that when his voice had broken on the word ‘list’ that he was caught in the lie.

Isaac was fishing for words in his mind, anything to get a normal conversation going again. Anything but this cutting silence between you.

But you were the one that broke the silence.

“It’s getting late. We should stop for today.” You said without looking at him.

A frown graced his face at your words, “You sure ?”

You nodded as you started to gather your things to put them away in your backpack. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

He blinked a few times, feeling that the atmosphere between you had shifted to something… colder.

“Alright… maybe we could watch a movie together now?” His voice betrayed how the situation was making him nervous.

You shook your head and managed to send him a small smile that didn’t reach your eyes. “Sorry, Isaac. I’m… I feel pretty tired.”

It was then that he knew that you just didn’t want him to be there any longer.

He gave a nod, the hopeful smile faded from his face, “Okay then. Are you alright ?”

You evaded his eyes as you nodded and tried to brush it off. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Really… just tired. I’ll see you in school tomorrow, right?”

He felt small relief at that, at least you still wanted to see him.

“You bet.” He said.

With that he silently gathered his stuff as well before leaving your place.

On his way home he kept thinking of solutions to make this right again.

Perhaps he should have just told the truth about reading some of your diary. Now you had figured it out yourself and he could sense that it had upset you.

He needed to think of a way to handle this situation before he would have to face you again tomorrow.

.•° ✿ °•. °•. ✿ .•° .•° ✿ °•. °•. ✿ .•° .•° ✿ °•. °•. ✿ .•° .•° ✿ °•. °•. ✿ .•° .•° ✿ °•.

The next day, you didn’t see him until you had already taken a seat at your desk in math class. You opened your backpack only to realize your math notebook was missing.

Just then, Isaac walked into class and put the notebook down on your desk before taking seat at his own behind you.

“Thanks.” You whispered to him, even though there were a ton of loose papers now sticking out from between the notebook.

They were all filled with the stuff he had worked on the previous evening beside you.

You went through them for a moment to see if there was anything useful for you as well on them.

One of those sheets of paper caught your attention, at first you thought it was just a paper with some extra notes on it, but then you read what was written on it.

It was a list… about you.

You slowly looked over your shoulder, back to Isaac. If there had been any doubt in your mind that he had put the list there for you to find, it was banished when your eyes found his.

You saw him take a deep breath, saw him reading your expression and then finally he shyly smiled.

A smile that failed to truly hide how nervous and afraid he was.

But that feeling vanished when you send him a bright smile back.

You were practically beaming with joy as you quickly turned your eyes back to the front of the class.

Isaac watched as you carefully folded the list and put the folded paper in your pocket.

Neither of you were able to focus much on the lesson for the rest of the class.

When math class ended, you were out of that classroom fast and waited for him by the door.

He walked out, his own notebook in hand, in search of you.

“I’m sorry for yesterday.” He apologized. “I’m an idiot, I know. I should have said something but I was afraid you’d be upset that I looked inside your diary.”

“How much did you read of it?” You asked him.

Isaac decided to tell the truth. “Just the part about that time you slipped over the wet floor. And those two lists.”

Your face burned, he had truly read the list about him…

“Thank you for telling me the truth now.” You smiled shyly, “And for what you wrote on that list you made about me. No one has ever said such sweet things about me before.”

The list he had made about you was full of praise and compliments. And everything he loved so much about you.

“I forgot to add one more thing on that list.” Isaac quietly said.

You bit your lip in expectation, “What?”

“What I love about you, is you.” He confessed, feeling the nerves crash into him with full force.

Your gaze fell to the floor when feeling how your heart was trying to escape your rib cage.

“And I forgot to add something on my bucket list.” You quietly told him, “Something I want to scratch off of it too.”

“What?” He looked a little confused.

“A kiss from you.” You send him your most alluring smile.

His brow arched in surprise, his mouth fell a little agape. “Oh.”

You laced your fingers in that scarf he had decided to wear, even though it wasn’t cold, and pulled him to your lips.

Isaac’s soft lips caressed yours, you parted only to look him in the eyes, he closed the space between you again instantly.

You were right to write down his lips as one of the things you loved about him.

And so was he to write yours down on the list he had made about you.

#isaac lahey #isaac lahey fic #isaac lahey x reader #teen wolf isaac #teen wolf #tw isaac #isaac

334 notes · View notes

eternalwritess · 10 months ago

Text

jjk matchup exchange with @vai3r13 / @vai3-writes

i match you with... 𝓚𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓸 𝓝𝓪𝓷𝓪𝓶𝓲 ██ 20% _ ████ 60% _ █████ 80% _ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ 100% ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ!

♦ You two definitely met at Jujutsu Tech, whether or not you were in his class or in Gojo's is absolutely irrelevant because either away you definitely approached this man first smiling and he absolutely could not ignore you as you were loud (not in a bad way) and in his face no matter how much he tried to look away from you he just couldn't

♦ At first he didn't like you that much, thought that you were too happy and too into being a Jujutsu sorcerer, he actually thought that you were kinda annoying and often compared you to Gojo. So it was safe to say that he didn't like you all that much but slowly as you two spent more and more time together it eventually changed

♦ The biggest change was when you two were both assigned a mission to exorcise a few grade two curses at a school and you both needed to split up in order to do so. At first he was trying to take charge of the situation, he told you to go one way and to not do certain things, making it pretty clear that he didn't trust you all that well but in retaliation once you saw how little faith he had in you you ran in a different direction and it all went to shit from there

♦ You still exorcised your fair share of curses and when you went to meet back up with him you saw that he was fighting a grade one curse, something that shouldn't have been there but then again, sometimes it got hard to label curses. So this one might've gained some sort of boost in that short time someone was trying to see what grade it was. Point being that since he was as experienced as he is now he was failing and miserably, missing about 20% of his strikes and desperately needing you help

♦ Which you gave him, you gave him some help because if you didn't then he would've likely died, and even thought you didn't like him all that much you didn't want him dying on you. Once you helped save him Kento immediately thanked you for your help, admitting that you were stronger than he thought you were

♦ Then on your way back from the mission he apologized for treating you badly back there and acting as if you didn't know anything, he was sincere and explained that he did that because he wasn't too sure of your abilities and he also admitting to thinking that he found you somewhat incompetent at first due to your overly friendly nature. He promised to not make that mistake again when it came to you

♦ Since that day he talked with you more and slowly began finding your overly happy demeanor kind of endearing in a way constantly being relieved and somewhat excited to see it every day, he actually didn't even notice how happy he was to see you until one day you were off for a mission and he didn't get to see you until you got back

♦ Gojo definitely noticed that he was a bit more emo than usual that day and decided to bully him for it while Haibara was just concerned with Kento asking if he had a good rest and such. Then when you came back Gojo knew what was going on and whispered something to Geto, Kento demanded to know but Gojo just giggled and walked away leaving him partially annoyed

♦ It wasn't until a day later when he realized what Gojo told Geto, Kento liked you and in a more than friends kind of way. He did not know how to feel about this, constantly wondering if he should try and bury down the feelings since it likely wouldn't work with his job or confess them towards you. It soon decided that it was better to bury them down and try to forget about them

♦ Sadly for him though Gojo had other plans, whenever you were talking with Gojo he'd constantly hint about how much Kento liked you and looked at you until you finally got the hint. It didn't take long and once you did notice you asked Gojo how he knew and he just walked off without answering

♦ Kento wasn't planning on confessing, that was until Gojo told him that he told you that Kento liked you and then suddenly Kento hated Gojo even more, telling him that it wasn't his business and that he shouldn't have done that. But Gojo shrugged it off and said how he couldn't stand his pining and wanted to get it over with

♦ Kento immediately found you after chewing Gojo out a little bit more and then started saying how while what Gojo said was true that you didn't have to accept his feelings at all and that he'd understand if you didn't feel the same for him in that way

♦ Yet when you told him that you did feel the same he didn't know how to response, I kid you not when I say he stood there for a minute not knowing what to say before nodding slowly and asking if you wanted to go out on a date with him

♦ You two ended up going to a cafe where Kento paid for your food and drinks, it was awkward as hell as he sat there not knowing what to do. You two ended up talking with you getting the conversation going and at basically every word you said he was blushing like an idiot

♦ Afterwards you both ended up going on a walk around Tokyo and just enjoying each others company. It wasn't too exciting date wise but he really did enjoy every second of it

♦ When Gojo found out that all of his work had finally paid off he was ecstatic, giggling and teasing Kento whenever he could. Constantly saying you're welcome when you two did something even remotely couply. This man was overjoyed and Kento was annoyed

♦ Geto was surprised that it happened, honestly even with Gojo spelling it out for the two of you he didn't think that it would happen. While he does tease Kento about it sometimes he doesn't tease you, just smiles and says how he's surprised that you fell for Kento of all people

♦ Haibara did NOT get the hint that you two were dating for a while, you two were dating for about 3 months when he realized and then asked why nobody told him. Needless to say he was giddy, saying how he wanted to be best man at the wedding and all that (not even in a teasing way)

♦ Utahime just teased Gojo saying how Kento got a girlfriend before he did, she didn't really care but she was happy for you two and happy that Kento did get a girlfriend before Gojo. She holds that over him

♦ Your relationship dynamic is, slight enemies to lovers, grumpy x sunshine, sun x moon, workplace lovers, and friends to lovers

^っ ̫ <^♡

♦ You and him constantly go on missions together and since both of you are leaders in a sense I think you would also both learn how to follow and how to let someone else take charge of a situation for once

♦ Whenever Kento stops by a cafe he always gets you something and always knows what you want without even asking you. Actually if you seem mad at something or upset he'll end up getting you something from a cafe to cheer you up

♦ If you ever played the piano for him it would instantly be his new favorite instrument. He wouldn't be able to hear a piano and not think of you and you playing it, hes a simp what can I say

♦ Even though he doesn't really do karaoke you drag him out to it anyways and get him to drink and sing a few songs with you, he's not very good at it though so he very much enjoys just sitting back and watching you sing instead of him

♦ He'd buy books with you, commonly going over to bookstores and walking through the shelves with you to see if there was anything interesting that the two of you may want to buy. He reads them before you and tells you if they're any good or not, but don't worry! He doesn't give spoilers!

♦ He is absolutely dumbfounded whenever you speak a different language, he kinda just looks your way and gives you the most confused look known to man. He can't even tell if you're speaking one language or the other. You could be speaking German and he'd ask if it was Russian

♦ He'd definitely trying ceramic painting with you, although he may not be that good at it and he would probably end up getting paint pretty much everywhere as he wouldn't really know how to do it but you'd laugh it off and suddenly that didn't matter to him anymore

♦ I feel like he would sorta bully you back, like you'd playfully swing a lighthearted mean comment at him and he'd do one right back at you with a slight smile across his face. Not to mention he's also relatively sarcastic so whenever you are he just does it right back at you, no hesitation at all

#matchup exchange #matchups #match up #matchup #jujutsu kaisen matchups #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #nanami kento #jjk nanami #jjk kento #nanamin #hope you like it!#sorry that this took so long lol

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hufflautia · 2 years ago

Text

Mine

This is part 2 of my mini-series Betrayal. Read Part 1: Cheater

Summary: Slytherin is willing to do anything to get Hufflepuff back...anything.

After the breakup, life wasn’t the same for Slytherin. Hufflepuff had been his sunshine. Without her, a cloud of gray drifted over him wherever he went, her absence a reminder of what he had done.

They hardly talked anymore after the breakup. When they crossed paths in the corridors, Hufflepuff didn’t glance in his direction, but he could tell she was just as heartbroken as he was.

Regret and guilt consumed him. Barely focused on his Transfiguration notes, he pushed the assignment aside and leaned back on the headboard of his bed, reminiscing about all the good times they had. He thought about the warmth of her cheek that pressed against his chest while they cuddled, her gentle touch as she absentmindedly traced the scar on his chin, her cheeky laugh in his ear as they danced beneath the stars.

Slytherin needed to get her back. He just didn’t know how.

Hufflepuff wasn’t doing too good either. She wanted answers, trying to make sense of why Slytherin did what he did—and more importantly, why he had kept it from her in the first place. She came to the conclusion that even if she had all the answers in the world, it wouldn’t change what happened.

She ended the relationship soon after the confrontation. There were pictures of them making silly faces that decorated her nightstand. His sweatshirts were draped over the edge of her trunk. Unable to look at anything that reminded her of him, she discarded the painful memories of their love. Her room felt empty afterwards, as if an important puzzle piece was missing.

Falling in love with Slytherin was like entering a house and realizing she was finally home. He comforted her when she lost her parents a few years ago. With him gone, it felt like she was losing everyone all over again.

Holed up in her dormitory, Hufflepuff felt worse than usual; today was supposed to be their one-year anniversary.

Someone covered her eyes. “Guess who?”

Even though she couldn’t see the person, she immediately knew who it was.

Hufflepuff gently pried the hands away and turned to face Slytherin. Her heart swelling at the sight of him, she stood up and greeted him with a hug. “What are these for,” she asked, noting the yellow blossoms in his hand.

“For our anniversary, sunshine. Did you think I’d forget it was my turn?”

They took turns planning their anniversary. Last month, Hufflepuff had snuck into the kitchens in the middle of the night to bake a cake for him. She got in trouble when the house-elves found her asleep on the counter the next morning. It was all worth it in the end when she finally presented the dessert to him after detention. A wide grin spread on his face as he tried not to laugh at the fact that she spent more time with Filch instead of him on their special day.

She sheepishly looked away. “During breakfast, you didn’t say a word about our anniversary.”

“That was all a ruse,” he explained, intertwining his fingers through hers. “I wanted you to think I didn’t remember so that you’d be surprised when I show you the elaborate date I’ve planned.”

She leaned into his outstretched arms, nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck. “I’m sorry for doubting you.”

Slytherin stroked her hair.

“It’s ok, I don’t blame you. My acting skills were really on-point this morning.”

Hufflepuff suppressed a laugh. The smile tugging at Slytherin’s lips broke into a playful grin, and he offered his hand. “Shall we? I’d rather not spend our anniversary in the library.”

“Anywhere with you is perfect,” she beamed.

Slytherin clicked his tongue.

“That’s sweet and all, but let’s seriously get out of here. I hate libraries.”

Exhaling a laugh, she took his hand and allowed him to lead the way. He brought her to the place where they first met: a secluded area that overlooked the Black Lake.

Hufflepuff, who was blindfolded, clutched his arm tightly as they walked. He untied the cloth.

The picnic had taken half of the day to prepare, but it was all worth it when he saw Hufflepuff’s face. Her cautious grin had exploded into a radiant smile, and before Slytherin could say anything else, she jumped into his embrace.

“I love you so so so much,” Hufflepuff said, accenting each word with a kiss to his lips. “These were the best ten months of my life.”

Slytherin smiled warmly.

“It’s not over yet, sunshine. There will be many more months to come.”

He leaned down to kiss her once more.

Hufflepuff’s vision blurred, and she wiped her cheeks. If only she could forget everything that happened. If only she could forget him.

Hufflepuff was walking across the courtyard when someone called out to her. She turned to see Gryffindor. He gestured for her to sit on the cobblestone steps beside him.

Dropping her bag on the floor, Hufflepuff sat down with a small smile. It’d be nice to sit in some company other than her pet owl. Her mind all over the place, she only paid half attention to their small talk. It wasn’t until Gryffindor put his hand on her shoulder that she met his eyes.

“How are you feeling about…” He trailed off.

“It’s just not the same,” she shook her head. “I’m trying to get by, but I feel like it’ll be forever before I’m okay again.”

Gryffindor nodded, his brows furrowed. Hufflepuff watched him rummage for something in his bag. He pulled out a book with a blank cover.

“Can I read an excerpt that I think you’d like?”

With her nod, he began.

“Healing will grow you. Healing will iron out the creases of your ache. Healing will stop the heavy thrashing inside your heart. Healing will melt you back into softness. Healing will let the hurt bathe you. Healing will make you stronger.”

He looked up from the pages. “And the first step of healing is to let go of the past.”

The past. It jolted her whenever she thought back to that moment.

“Hufflepuff!”

She smiled when she realized it was Gryffindor.

“Hey Gryff!” He was out of breath and staring at her as if her pet owl died. “What’s wrong?”

“I need to tell you something,” he murmured, grabbing her arm. He brought her to a quiet corridor and, with an anxious inhale, told her what happened in the library. His frown deepened when she laughed.

“You must have mistaken him for someone else,” she said. “Slytherin would never do that.”

Even when Gryffindor swore on his grandpa’s grave that he was telling the truth, Hufflepuff didn’t believe him. He let out a frustrated sigh and rubbed his temple. He straightened.

“Come with me.”

She followed after him easily. After all, there wouldn’t be any proof to show since Slytherin didn’t do anything.

“Where are we going?” They had been walking through a dark corridor and she was getting antsy.

Gryffindor stopped in front of a door with a strange engraved symbol. He pulled out his wand.

“Alohamora!”

The door clicked open and he beckoned Hufflepuff to go inside. She stepped in, and her eyes widened.

“Gryffindor,” she exclaimed. “We’re not supposed to be in Slughorn’s office—”

“This’ll be quick.” He started to scour through the clutter of items on the table.

As Hufflepuff waited, something caught her eye in the corner and she approached it.

It was a shallow basin made with stone. Precious stones and strange symbols decorated the sides. It was filled with a silver substance, wisps of smoke slithering into the air.

“You found it.”

Hufflepuff jumped as Gryffindor moved to her side. She gulped and looked back in the pot.

“Is that?– ...”

“The Pensieve,” he answered softly.

Her stomach twisted. She heard about it in class once, and her professor’s words echoed in her head. “The Pensieve is a magical object used to review memories.”

Hufflepuff closed her eyes and took deep breaths. There was no way Slytherin cheated. No, not her Slytherin.

When she opened them, he had already drawn a glowing strand from his temple and was dropping the memory into the basin. She stared as the shimmering particles stirred.

Gryffindor stood with her, the heaviness of the situation weighing on him. Having known both Slytherin and Hufflepuff for so long, he himself felt complete shock at what his friend had done. He couldn’t imagine how this would affect Hufflepuff. Even though he felt like a terrible friend for bringing her here, he would be an even worse one if he hid this.

“We can leave if you want,” Gryffindor said. “We can forget this ever happened.”

She met his gaze, her eyebrows drawn together.

“But you’re gonna spend the rest of your life wishing you knew the truth.”

Hufflepuff knew he was right. She wished he was wrong. With a shaky inhale, she entered the Pensieve.

Her chest was wrought with pain as she remembered what it was like to see Slytherin with Ravenclaw. The image of their locked lips squirmed its way in again, and she angrily expelled it from her mind.

Slytherin was her whole world at a point. But she was starting to realize that she didn’t need him. He could run to Ravenclaw for the rest of his half-finished handjob for all she cared.

“You’re right,” she said. “I need to let go.”

Gryffindor squeezed her hand. “I’m always here for you if you need anything.”

She smiled back and nodded. Slytherin wasn’t in her life anymore, but she still had a strong support system, and that was never gonna change.

Gryffindor gathered his notes into a pile and stuffed them into his bag, silently scolding himself for not studying for his Potions exam earlier. He was gonna have to stay up tonight to prepare.

He started for the exit and froze. Shit.

Slytherin stood by the door, his arms crossed.

“Surprised to see me?”

“Not really. I figured I’d run into you at some point.”

“At some point,” Slytherin repeated. “You mean after you betrayed me?”

He eyed the wand in his former friend’s hand. “What’re you talking about?”

“Don’t tell me you forgot.”

“Dude, I don’t know what—”

“You fucking told her,” Slytherin exploded, his eyes blazing.

“You’re the one who cheated,” Gryffindor scoffed. “You’re a bigger idiot than I took you for if you thought I was gonna stay quiet. She doesn’t deserve that.”

His lips curled into a wry smile. “I know what you’re trying to do.”

“What in the blazes are you going on about?”

“I saw you two in the courtyard today,” he hissed. “You were holding hands. You think you’re so high and mighty, but you’re trying to steal her away from me–”

“Hufflepuff isn’t an object,” Gryffindor glared. “She is her own person, she belongs to no one.”

Slytherin lets out a dry laugh. “Merlin’s beard…how could I not see it before? You have feelings for her…in fact, you probably planned all of this from the beginning! How convenient that you were in the library at that exact time–”

“Christ, Slytherin, give it a rest! You’re coming up with all these conspiracy theories to make up for the fact that Hufflepuff is never going to forgive you.”

The words hung in the air, and Slytherin fell silent. The thought of living in a world in which Hufflepuff wasn’t with him was too much to bear. He tightened his hold around the wand and shook his head.

“You’re wrong.”

He turned and set off into the dark corridors. He was going to make things right.

Hufflepuff dangled her legs over the ledge of the observatory. The stars winked at her as she gazed into the distance, thinking about what Gryffindor had said.

Healing will stop the heavy thrashing inside your heart.

She knew she would be okay at some point, and a day would drift by in which thoughts of Slytherin would not plague her. But she was impatient. She just wanted to forget him. She wanted to stop hurting.

“I thought you’d be here.”

Hufflepuff gasped and spun around. Her face dropped.

“Leave.”

Slytherin stepped in front of her, his arms raised.

“Wait, please, I need to talk to you–”

“You don’t get to say anything to me,” she said coldly.

“But I love you,” he cried, clasping their hands together. “And you love me.”

Her eyes glistened as she stared at him ruefully.

“And look where that love has brought us.”

“Please,” he whispered. “Just give me another chance.”

“I trusted you, and you hurt me.”

“You can still trust me–”

“Then tell me this,” Hufflepuff yanked her hands away. “When were you going to tell me what happened?”

When he didn’t respond, she huffed wryly. “Or should I say if you were even gonna tell me.”

Her shoulder shoved against his as she started for the door.

“Remember how I was by your side after your parents died?” His words glued her to the floor. “Who will you go to if you leave me?”

Slytherin turned at the sound of approaching footsteps. His head jerked to the side as a resounding slap rings across the room.

“How dare you mention them,” she hissed, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “I would rather be alone than be with you.”

“You can’t mean that,” his voice was low, wrought with heartbreak. “Please, Hufflepuff, I love you.”

Hufflepuff gazed at him through a curtain of tears. Red tinged his skin, and she squashed the instinct to cup his cheek and run her thumb over his cheek.

“I loved you.”

Anguish gripped him as she turned away. A gut feeling clawed into his stomach, and it told him this would be the last time she would ever willingly talk to him.

Slytherin couldn’t let her go. He wouldn’t.

Without thinking, he raised his wand at her and let the words slip from his mouth.

The whole walk back to his dormitory, Slytherin kept his head down. The day went by in a blur; he had no idea how he got through Potions, but his distraction didn’t go by unnoticed. By the end of the class, he lost his house 20 points for not paying attention. But he didn’t care.

Had he made a mistake last night?

A pair of worn shoes stood in front of his path. His thoughts flitted away when he saw who it was.

“Get lost, Evras.”

Gryffindor grabbed his shoulder and dragged him into a nearby classroom. “I know what you did,” he snarled, slamming the door shut.

Slytherin shoved his hand away. “Get your hands off me unless you want to go swimming with the selkies tonight.”

“I thought you were a piece of shit before, but I never thought you’d do something like this…”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ve done nothing wrong. Besides,” Slytherin smirked, “it’s not like you have any evidence.”

Gryffindor glared at him steely. “I’ll find a way to prove it. I’m gonna bring her back to…to normal.”

“Hufflepuff is fine,” he hummed, though his voice wavered. “Everything’s perfect, the way they should be.”

As he sauntered to the door, Gryffindor called after him. “You think you can get away with this?”

“I already have. I just need to take care of one more thing.”

“Which is?”

Slytherin turned around and raised his wand at him.

“You.”

Slytherin hovered over Hufflepuff’s sleeping figure, brushing a stray hair away from her face. The dark circles under her eyes were already disappearing. He smiled. She always slept best with him by her side.

It was as if everything happened in slow motion that night. The obliviation spell hit Hufflepuff, and her body tilted forward. He rushed forward and caught her before she hit the floor. Shame weighed heavily on him afterward, and he tossed and turned in his bed until dawn peeked through the windows.

But when she woke up yesterday from the spell and her eyes filled with love, all his pain faded away. It was almost as if the incident never happened. He definitely made the right choice. After all, they were together again.

Gryffindor was already taken care of. Besides having a small headache the next morning, his old best friend greeted him happily, but Slytherin knew now not to let him get too close to Huff again. He might have forgotten what happened too, but he still might have lingering feelings for his girlfriend.

His thoughts were interrupted by a small mewl. Hufflepuff wiggled in his grasp, and she scrunched her nose at the sun melting across her skin. The light surrounded her like a halo, and Slytherin kissed the tip of her nose.

“Good morning, sunshine.”

She smiled drowsily and wrapped her arms around his torso. “What time is it,” she croaked into his shirt.

“Way past your usual 9 a.m. alarm, but I thought I’d let you rest.”

Hufflepuff yawned and stretched her arms. Her knuckle brushed against the naked wall, and she blinked a couple of times. “What happened to all the pictures of us?”

Slytherin glanced up, and a shadow fell across his face. “I think your roommates were just messing around, but it’s okay. We can make new memories and take other pictures, right?”

Her lips twisted. Her roommates wouldn’t touch her stuff without her permission…

Without a second of thought, he crashed his lips into hers. The kiss was filled with desperation and his hands dragged into her hair, pulling her impossibly closer. She had to pull away to catch a breath.

“You’re more cuddly than usual,” she smiled, her head still woozy.

He stared at her with an empty longing. “I just missed you.”

“But I saw you yesterday,” she laughed.

Slytherin hummed and murmured, “Well, it felt like forever.”

She beamed and rested her head on his chest. “I love you.”

The words were like honey, and he smiled back. It had been so long since she uttered those words to him.

“I love you too.”

Hufflepuff curled her arms around his shoulders and leaned in, her eyelashes fluttering shut as their noses brushed together. Slytherin smiled blissfully, her lips like rose petals against his. His arm snaked around her waist as he deepened the kiss.

Mine.

Check out my masterlist! | Kind comments and reblogs are most appreciated :)

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

AAAAAAAAAAA!!!????

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!

dont hate me!!!! ive been gone for too long yall but i wasn't really thinking of staying :( but i went on tumblr last night just for the heck of it and i was like damn..i wanna post something bc god BLESS those who sent some asks in, i think of u fr fr it makes me feel all warm inside hehe <3 so yea i wanted to feed my children bc yall have not had a meal in YEARS

anyways ive been working on this for a longgggg time, and my edits were always very sporadic, but i finally decided to finish it but this bitch has been gathering dust in my docs. i even had a separate doc for my authors note and i just looked it over and its funny as fuck LMAO so I'm just gonna throw in all the memes i had in there, get ready for a fucking HOOT

ok anyways enjoy!! love love love

Sometimes I think of my one-shots as AUs of the slytherpuff series, because in future one-shots, if needed, i will use the same last names (lestrange and tian). In this case, i feel like all of this wouldn’t have happened in the first place because sly would’ve yeeted ravenclaw across the library lmadomafijnvsd

from cheater to mine:

these are the people who didnt want a part two lmao:

gryff at sly after obliviate:

gryffindor at sly to leave her alone ^

THIS WAS IN MY DRAFTS AT THE BEGINNING STAGES OF MY WRITING FOR THIS AHAH:

slytherin core:

you rn:

cut the cameras,.,, deadass

"Without thinking, he raised his wand at her and let the words slip from his mouth before he could stop himself, consumed with desperation."

https://www.google.com/search?q=the+office+dont+meme&oq=the+office+dont+meme&gs_lcrp=EgZjaHJvbWUyBggAEEUYOTIJCAEQABgKGIAEMgoIAhAAGAoYFhgeMgoIAxAAGAoYFhgeMgoIBBAAGAoYFhgeMg0IBRAAGIYDGIAEGIoF0gEIMjY1MWowajeoAgCwAgA&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8#vhid=OW1kn2CU-kTGIM&vssid=l

that is all i had written in my doc, future huffautia is back! i remember making those memes and i cackled so much. i hope u guys laughed too and enjoyed the story, pls pls pls let me know ur thoughts bc i would loveee to hear what u guys think heheheh. more dark sly fanfics??? lmk.

i am not sure when or if i will be back :( i have so much unfinished fics piled up, but not much motivation or time. this may be the last fic i post bc it was the one i was most close to finishing, but ur support does help a lot, so send in asks, comments, and dms!! love u, be well :) thank you for this journey. heart heart!!

tags:

@HOPEFUL-HUFFLEPUFF-PEEVES @ka-to-sa @oa-mm @hufflepooooff @cinnamon-roll-unicorn @princessstoopid @jasminedayz @magnoliamermaid @hufflepuff-brunette @theclassictragedy @minetticatinwonderland @xxmichx @pancakes-and-sugar @theif-charm @happy-puff @onefoureightfive @hellounicorn @applekenm @toni-wood @sirenofthe7seas @dracos-eternity @guildedmoongamer @doalokiandrun @hannanshi @intotheunknownuwu @izukuisfrickingadorable117 @neonuzumaki @alverniaphi @captainam-erika-trash @nikkijovanic @strawberrypanda99 @fuckthenewyorkpost @chewyladyfingers @dracoswhore007 @chocolett @hmilkwhoney @introvertedrae @pinqgchuu @dracosvftie @infared-eyeliner @rosethevoid @pastelkhaleesi @pisces-daydreams @stardustzainy @quakemebacktothe50s @history-geek101 @zenobiagrace @eunnieah @zigqy @cryingabtwandavision @widowsgranger @writtenfoxscreams @nugnugchick @hinanitiram @aestheticworld99 @skipingonthesidewalk @moonyisastonerboy @lucyrod18-blog @thewitcheswords @shipping-book-keeper @niicoraizumii @idocarealot @syrenak @ajdqueen @imscaredofhorses @markedsweetly @kaslec @bewiitchings @dont-hyuck @lewispoolerpayton @1hufflepuff @swagangelhorsepickle @elegantcroissantplaidpony @uhhhem @thankfulfor @summerbbygirl @maraudeersmap @udontneedtokno @inexperiencedpotathoe @sweetinvisiblewriter @peanut-in-the-goal @da-fox-rangerrr @angel-blogging

77 notes · View notes

teaberrii · 2 years ago

Text

Chapter 9: Dinner for Two

After ending a five-year relationship, you pour all your energy into work. Your latest assignment? Staying at a popular bed-and-breakfast to gather information. It should be a piece of cake... If only the owner isn't the man you scolded on the street.

Jing Yuan/You

Chapter notes: Mention of suicide

Notes:

Cross-posted on Ao3

Female reader

Chapter index at the end of chapter one

You’re sitting in a chair in front of a mirror in a room at the back of Jingliu’s gym. She’s leaning close to you, meticulously doing your makeup in a way that you’ve never thought to do before. You usually stick with one style: natural. But this time, you have a slightly bolder look that makes you look like a princess who just stepped out of a novel. You look at Jingliu’s reflection, and your eyes meet hers when she also looks in the mirror.

Then, with a little smile, she says, “Are you curious? It’s okay to ask.”

“Well, um, your eye…”

Jingliu puts the brush on the vanity table and stands behind you, her hands on the back of your chair. “I was in an accident after the Global Games.”

“No…! No! What do you mean she’s blind? That can’t be! That—”

“Please, calm down.” A nurse tried to pry a distraught middle-aged woman away from the doctor.

The angry woman rudely shrugged the nurse away. “Answer me! She—”

“She’s only partially blind,” the doctor said as calmly as he could. “...She’s lucky that she’s alive.”

Jingliu, dressed in a hospital gown, had half of her head wrapped in bandages, including over one of her eyes. She was disoriented and confused when she woke up. It wasn’t until minutes later that she realized she was in a hospital. But she could still see it, still hear it. The sudden car that ran a red light. The sound of tires screeching, loud honking, and nearby screams.

It’d been painful, but she got out of bed and heard her mother outside. So, Jingliu slowly opened the door and limped out to hear what was going on.

“We’ll do more tests once she’s awake.”

“...Mom.”

Everyone turned, and Jingliu’s mother immediately walked up to her. “Jingliu! How… How are you feeling? When did you wake up?”

But, Jingliu only had one person on her mind. “...Where is he?” She said her boyfriend’s name. “Is he okay? I want to see him.”

Her mother looked down, and her face turned a little pale. “...He’s…”

That’s a moment Jingliu can never forget. Having won Gold at the Global Games in Wushu, her longtime boyfriend, one of her biggest supporters, had taken her out to celebrate. But the day turned tragic, and her road to recovery got worse when the rescue team found a ring in the crash.

Jingliu had gone unexpectedly quiet after she told you she’d been in an accident. You guess she’s reminded of that terrible day, and you’re about to change the subject when she says, “It’s been nearly over a decade since then, but it’s how I came back to Xianzhou. I grew up here, and… it was a safe place for me.”

“It's very different from the city. That’s to be expected, of course, but I do feel a strong sense of community. Everyone knows each other, it seems.”

“There are pros and cons. I’m sure the reason why you’re curious about my situation is because you heard someone talk about it.”

“You got me there.”

“Good news. Bad news. Whatever news… It travels fast.” Jingliu has a kind look in her eyes. “Just be careful of what you want people to be talking about.”

Her phone buzzes, and you watch her take it out. Her eyes scan whatever is on the screen before she puts it back into her pocket.

“Jing Yuan should be here any minute,” she says. Somehow, you doubt that message was from Jing Yuan. “Ready to go?”

As soon as you open the door and turn the corner, you see Jing Yuan talking with the brothers. His eyes immediately land on you. The brothers also turn, and Dan Feng lets out a low whistle.

“Not bad, not bad,” the older brother says.

Dan Heng nods. “You look good.”

Jingliu comes up behind you. “She does, doesn’t she?”

Jing Yuan walks up just as Jingilu leans against the counter. He leans over and whispers in your ear, “You look beautiful, as always.”

Your eyes meet his just as Jing Yuan leans upright. You keep your eyes on him and with a confident, little smile, you say, “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

“I guess we don’t get any compliments.”

Dan Heng gives his brother a deadpan look. “...Did you have to ruin the moment?”

“All right. Now, I’m going to have to kick all of you out,” Jingliu says. “It’s closing time, after all.”

You and Jing Yuan are alone in the car as it weaves through the town. The brothers, likely out of courtesy, are walking back to the bed and breakfast after grabbing takeout.

“Is Yanqing joining us for dinner?” you ask.

“Blade’s looking after him tonight.”

“O-oh, is he?”

Jing Yuan gives you a mischievous look. “Are you nervous?”

“About what?”

Suddenly, he takes your hand, and you immediately turn to him. “You tell me.”

You quietly scoff. “Hands on the wheel, General.” Yet, you don’t pull back.

The thought of his hands roaming your body sits in the back of Jing Yuan’s mind, but he refuses to entertain that.

“All right.” Jing Yuan puts both his hands on the wheel.

You chuckle. “Didn’t think you’d be that obedient.”

Then, before he can stop himself, he asks, “Should I not be?”

It’s for a second that your eyes meet, and you have to face forward as you feel your face warm. Jing Yuan pulls up to a small, cozy house that combines modern and traditional elements. There’s a single light at the end of the driveway, helping you see that the outside of the house is a warm colour mix of beige and brown.

After Jing Yuan parks the car in the garage, he opens the door for you leading into the house. You step in, and you smell freshly cooked food mixed with a little cedar.

“Is that chicken I smell?” you ask.

“Good guess.”

You follow Jing Yuan into the living room where you immediately notice the minimalistic design. There are a couple of ink paintings on the cream-coloured walls, a fireplace in a corner, two couches adjacent to each other, and a large light in the shape of a ball hanging from the ceiling. Once you’re in the dining room, you see two plates and utensils placed across from each other on a small, marble dining table.

“Would you like some wine?” Jing Yuan asks.

You sit at the table. “Sure.” When he comes back with a large bottle of red wine, you say, “I thought you were more of a beer kind of guy.”

Jing Yuan effortlessly opens the bottle with a corkscrew and fills your glass. “Wine is for special occasions.”

You look outside and see a little garden in the back. Jing Yuan brings in the food, and you immediately turn upon smelling something fresh out of the oven. There’s baked chicken breast sprinkled with basil, Salmon Bread, fried rice, and more.

“You prepared all of this in one day?” you ask in disbelief.

“I cook almost every day for Yanqing.” Jing Yuan sits across from you. “So, I’m usually prepared. I already had some of this prepared before I invited you over.”

You put a chicken breast on your plate and slice off a piece. After taking a bite, you nod in approval. “Not bad, General.”

“There’s also dessert,” Jing Yuan says. “So… Save some room.”

“Ooh, what’re we having for dessert?”

Jing Yuan puts an elbow on the table and slightly leans closer. “That’s a surprise.”

“Keepin’ secrets now, are we?”

“It’s a Xianzhou delicacy.”

“My expectations are even higher."

“You won’t be disappointed.”

You and Jing Yuan continue working away at the food, talking about whatever comes to mind. You learn that his parents are frequently overseas and he was raised by his grandmother until she passed when he was in high school.

“Was she the one who encouraged you to learn Wushu?” you ask.

“No, actually. I went to Jingliu myself.” You reach for the Salmon Bread, and Jing Yuan brings the plate closer to you.

"She told me that you showed up in scars and bruises..."

"I can still remember the look on her face when I did. That was right after I got jumped."

A young Jing Yuan was walking home with his nose in a book when he heard footsteps. He looked up and saw his bigger, male classmate step out from behind a building. Upon hearing something behind him, Jing Yuan turned and saw three more classmates walk up.

“...Would you leave her alone?”

Jing Yuan turned. “What are you talking about?”

Then, his classmate said a girl’s name. Jing Yuan knew her as the outgoing, popular girl in the other class. A lot of the guys liked her, but she only paid special attention to Jing Yuan.

“Stop trying to show off in front of her.” The kid walked until he was in front of him. “You’re an eyesore.”

Jing Yuan sighed. “Taking your jealousy out on me won’t do you any good. Rather, it makes you—” His eyes went wide as a hard punch to his gut caught him off guard. He doubled over and felt someone knock him to the ground from behind.

“Did they get punished?” you ask.

“I should’ve reported them. That would’ve been the logical thing to do. But…”

“You wanted to get back at them.”

“...That’s right."

Then, with an intrigued look, you ask, “Did you win the next time?”

“You aren't going to scold me?”

You shrug. “I agree you should’ve reported them, but… a little revenge doesn’t hurt.”

“Encouraging violence, are we?”

“Hey, stop twisting my words.”

Clink!

After taking a sip of your wine, you put your glass down. Jing Yuan does the same and says, “I did get my revenge, but everyone got hurt that day. That’s to be expected. After that, we never messed with each other again.”

“I’d say that’s a win.”

“...And what about you?”

“Me?” You chuckle. “Are you asking if I ever got into a fight at school? Not exactly.”

“Not exactly?”

Your lips form a neat line. “It was in university… when my ex and I just started dating.”

“You told me you two were just friends.”

You were sitting across from your friend, a girl whom you hadn’t spoken to since high school. You weren’t exactly close, but back then, you talked with her enough to consider her a friend. She’d ended up going to a different university in the city, so you two didn’t talk as much as much as you did. She texted you the night before, asking to have coffee and catch up as the semester was coming to an end.

“Well, we were,” you said.

“...But, you knew I liked him.”

That was true. You did. But nothing happened.

“That’s—”

“I thought we were friends.”

You frowned. “Did you tell him about how you felt?”

“...Not yet.”

“...Then, I don’t see what the problem is.”

She glared at you. “I didn’t even get a chance.”

You really didn’t want to say it, but… “If he did like you, we wouldn’t have happened.”

“A lot of drama started happening after that,” you say.

“...Do you mind if I ask why you two broke up?”

You finish the rest of the food on your plate. “We weren’t working anymore. Might be a little cliché, but we weren’t the same people anymore. We tried to make things work, but it wasn’t happening.” You glance at him. “...Do you mind if I ask what happened between you and your ex-wife?”

“Long story short… I wanted to do something different, but she wanted me to stay at my job. And… she also wanted another child when I didn’t.”

His wife came out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a dress for bed. Yanqing was staying with his grandmother that weekend, leaving Jing Yuan and his wife to have some quality time together. His wife walked up and put her arms on his shoulders.

“...What're we doing tonight, Handsome?"

Jing Yuan took her wrists and put them at her side. "Getting a good night's sleep."

Her shoulders fell. "Yanqing would love a sibling, you know."

"We've talked about this. Yanqing would love a sibling? Or, would you love to give him a sibling?”

She sighed. “Don’t you want to grow our family, Jing Yuan?”

He didn’t.

“...Let’s get some sleep.”

His wife stepped in front of him when he tried to turn off the lights. “Something is bothering you. Why won’t you talk to me?”

“I did.”

She crossed her arms. “It’s about that bed and breakfast fantasy of yours, isn’t it?”

Jing Yuan hated the way she put it. Fantasy? It was like she was mocking him.

“It’s not a fantasy,” Jing Yuan said flatly.

“You have a family.” She scoffed and sat on the bed. “It’s time to come back to reality, Jing Yuan.”

“I asked if you could give me a year. If nothing happens or I’m not successful, I’ll find a new job. You agreed. But now it seems like you’re going back on your word.”

"I'm not! I just... I still don't think it's a good idea. It's not safe, Jing Yuan. Do you understand?"

"I understand the risks. That's why I'm meeting you halfway." Jing Yuan sat next to her. “You wanted a child, and I agreed.”

She turned and put her hand on his cheek. “And now we have Yanqing. He’s our everything. Don’t you want to give him more?”

“What about your word?" When she said nothing, Jing Yuan continued, "You agreed, so I already put in my resignation letter.”

“...Already?!”

“My last day is the end of the month.”

“...She was livid,” Jing Yuan says.

“I’ve been curious… What made you want to open a bed and breakfast anyway? You were a Director at an IT company… That’s… I mean… That’s a position some people can only dream of.”

“There were questionable practices that I found out about when I was promoted. I was expected to be a part of that or else I’d lose my position.”

“Yikes…”

Jing Yuan nods. “I’ve always wanted to start a business. And since I didn’t want to stay there, I wanted to take a chance.”

“...Did your wife want you to stay? Even after you found out about the shady practices?”

“I told her about what I knew, and she encouraged me to stay.” Jing Yuan looks you in the eyes. “That was when she was still working at Star Rails.”

“...You shouldn’t leave.”

Jing Yuan was sitting on the couch adjacent to his wife. He’d just finished telling her about some of the questionable practices that he recently discovered and reasoned that a company wouldn’t last if they continued with their shady ways. Of course, Jing Yuan also didn’t want to end up in the crossfire, considering he was now in management.

“At least not until you find something else,” his wife continued.

"This is an opportunity. I want to open a bed and breakfast.”

It was written all over her face. Annoyance. Frustration. Anger. Every time he brought this up, she made it clear she wasn’t happy.

“Every company has some corruption going on,” his wife finally said. “It’s normal. It’s… It’s just how it is.”

“...Is something wrong?”

His wife looked at him, and he saw her fidget. “Why are you asking?”

“It’s a hunch.” He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Is something happening at work?”

She sighed. “No… It’s… It’s just that the project failed.” She turned to him. “Have you… heard anything from Caelus?”

“No. Why?”

“I figured he’d talked to you.” She picked up her tea. “After the project fell through, I thought he’d tell you about it.”

“I plan on meeting him in Xianzhou next month. I’m heading back to visit.”

She looked away again. “I see.” Then, she stood and walked into the kitchen.

“I… never saw Caelus,” Jing Yuan says. You look up from your soup. “By the time I got here, he… was gone.”

Gone? As in…

“The empty lot you saw,” Jing Yuan continues. “That was where his hotel used to be.”

“...What happened?”

Jing Yuan looks down. “He took his own life.” You almost drop your spoon. “After a full investigation, they ruled out any foul play.”

It takes you a moment to process this, but you finally say, “...I’m so sorry.”

A short pause.

“A year after that, my wife and I divorced.”

“That must’ve been a huge shock of... everything to the community.”

"It was. Rumours and speculations were flying everywhere, but there were quite a few people who were convinced Star Rails had something to do with what happened to Caelus."

“...Did your wife ever bring this up?”

“No. She was just as shocked as I was when she found out what happened.” The pause and the slight narrowing of his eyes make you think Jing Yuan has something more to say. “She stopped talking to me about her work after that. Eventually, she left and found a new job.”

A short silence followed as you and Jing Yuan finished the rest of the food. You and Jing Yuan are stacking the empty plates together when you say, "...This explains why everyone seems so hostile."

You help carry the empty dishes to the kitchen. You’re standing next to Jing Yuan as he says, “This is what I wanted to tell you this morning.” After washing his hands, he looks at you. “You’re suspicious that Star Rails is hiding something. I'm not sure whether it’s related to Caelus, but I suspect there's another reason why they sent you here.”

You sigh. “In other words… things aren’t as simple as they seem.” A short silence later, you ask, “What about you? Do you think Star Rails had something to do with what happened to Caelus?”

“I do.” You look him in the eyes, a little surprised at the honesty. He holds your gaze and says, “As I said, you aren’t the first person to visit.” You get a whiff of his cologne when he steps closer. He leans down until he’s at eye level with you. “...But you’re the first to question them.”

You put a hand on the counter beside you. “...But maybe the others did, you just didn’t know it.”

“On the contrary. One of them tried to convince me to enter a partnership with them. Another tried to poach some of my employees.”

“Looks like they all failed.”

“...So, I’m trying to keep my wits about me.” Your eyes land on his lips, and your breath catches in your throat. “And it looks like you’re trying to do the same.” Your eyes meet his, and you allow him to slowly cage you in against the counter. Then, in a low voice, he asks, “Do you still think I’m pretending?”

You could’ve kissed him. You wanted to, in fact. But, instead, you slightly lean forward, your hand underneath his chin. “And how do I know I’m not falling into one of your traps? Trying to seduce me… Helping me… Saying all of these sweet things.” You dare to lean closer. “What secrets are you after?”

“Whatever you’re willing to tell me.”

And then he kisses you.

His lips are softer than you imagined, needier than anything you’ve ever experienced. One of your hands finds his chest while the other snakes around him. Jing Yuan pulls you close with one hand in your hair and the other on the small of your back. Slow. Sensual. The way he takes your breath away and gives it back, teasing you with the sweet caresses of his tongue until you make it clear you’re ready for more.

Seconds pass. Minutes feel like hours. When your lips finally leave his, you have no sense of time or space. Your mind’s in a daze and your eyes can’t leave his. It’s then you realize that you’re sitting on the counter, and Jing Yuan is standing between your legs. It’s a blur how or when you got into this position, but you aren’t complaining.

“I never expected a kiss like that on a first date,” you say breathlessly.

“...Would you like more?”

“What about dessert?”

He unexpectedly claims your lips again. Then, with a small smile, he says, “I already had mine.” His voice goes slightly lower. “...Although I’m satisfied, I can always go for more.”

This time, it’s you who kisses him. But you pull back before he kisses you back. “...I still want my dessert, General.”

He helps you off the counter. “How can I say no?”

◆◆◆

Wearing a tank top and shorts, Dan Feng has a towel draped over his damp hair as he enters the living room. Dan Heng and Welt are watching a movie with a bowl of popcorn on the table.

“Where’s March?” Dan Feng asks.

“In her room,” Welt answers.

As the movie goes on, Dan Feng heads upstairs and gently knocks on March’s door. When there's no response, Dan Feng tries opening the door. It’s unlocked.

“March?”

He opens the door a little wider and sees March on the bed with her laptop. She has her earphones in and Dan Feng guesses she’s watching something by how intently she’s staring at her screen. As soon as she sees him, she pulls out her earphones and pushes her laptop screen downwards.

“Did you knock?”

“Yeah,” Dan Feng deadpans. “What are you doing up here? We’re watching a movie.”

“...I know. I said I didn’t want to join.”

“Why?”

March puts her laptop aside. “Why are you suddenly so curious?”

Dan Feng enters her room and sits in an empty chair. “Why are you suddenly so defensive?”

“Me? Defensive?”

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re jealous that your man, Jing Yuan, is going on a real date.” March throws a pillow at him, but Dan Feng catches it with ease. “Did I hit the mark?”

“I wish I had that much time on my hands to be concerned about his love life,” she deadpans.

“Then, what’s wrong?” Dan Feng tosses the pillow on the bed. “It’s not like you to miss out on movie night wherever we are.”

“I’m… I’ve been thinking about things.”

“Really? Shocking.” March shoots him a look, and Dan Feng returns it with a smile. “What about?”

“Nothing that concerns you.”

Dan Feng scoots the chair a little closer. “Seriously, March. What’s up?”

March gives him another look but sighs in defeat. “My old manager contacted me a few days ago.”

“...What did he want?”

“...He asked if I had any interest in coming back to the entertainment scene.”

Dan Feng narrows his eyes. “Why would he suddenly contact you?”

“I asked him the same question,” March says quietly. “Apparently, they’re creating an idol group.”

“And he wants you to be a part of it?”

“He said I fit with the image.”

Dan Feng crosses one leg over the other. “Now, that’s suspicious. Surely, there are other girls to pick from.” When March stays silent, Dan Feng leans closer. “...You’re thinking of doing it?”

“...You mean to become an idol? Not… exactly. But, I’ve been thinking of going back.”

“I’m sure you have your reasons, but you’d be going back to the same industry that destroyed you.”

March sighs. “Let’s not talk about it.”

“Listen…” She turns to Dan Feng as he awkwardly scratches the back of his head. “You know we’d want you to be happy”—he looks at her—“with whatever decision you make. We’re on your side.”

March holds his gaze before chuckling. Then, she puts Dan Feng in a headlock and says, “Trying to act cool, are you?”

“What?” Dan Feng gently pushes her away. Then, with a small huff, he stands and turns away. “That is the last time I'm trying to make you feel better.”

She laughs and gets off the bed. “Hey.” The serious tone makes Dan Feng turn to look at her. “...I appreciate it.”

Dan Feng puts a hand inside his pocket. “C’mon. Let’s go before they eat all the popcorn.”

◆◆◆

You’re looking at the paintings and photos in Jing Yuan’s living room as the man went to change. Halfway through having dessert, you’d somehow flustered him and the cream ended up on his shirt and pants.

There are quite a few photos of him and Yanqing. In one of them, Yanqing is wearing a soccer jersey and Jing Yuan has his arm around him while they’re smiling at the camera. Another is one of him and Yanqing camping at a lake. There are also photos with Blade, Luocha, and the other friends you’ve met at Xianzhou. However, there are two people who you don’t recognize: a man and a woman who can pass as twins.

They’re wearing similar clothing, and there’s a photo of them with Yanqing when he was very young. You’re about to look closer when a phone goes off. It’s not yours, and you quickly realize it’s Jing Yuan that’s on the living room table. You ignore it, but when it continues and doesn’t stop, you can’t help but be curious who it is that seems desperate to get a hold of him. Eventually, you walk over and glance at the name on the screen.

It’s a woman’s name.

Then, you hear footsteps, and you turn and see Jing Yuan in a white and brown sweater and black pants coming down the stairs. “Is someone calling?” he asks.

“Yeah… They seem pretty persistent.” Jing Yuan walks over and picks up his phone from the table. His expression visibly changes, so you ask, “Who is it?”

After a small sigh, he says, “It’s my ex-wife.”

Chapter 10

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#jingyuan x reader #jing yuan x you #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x y/n #hsr jing yuan #jing yuan #honkai jing yuan

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