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1d1195 · 21 days ago

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Two Negatives

~9.8 k words

From me: I promise it’s not going to be about math that much. This is an academic rivals sort of thing. It’s going to have at least two follow ups but this is the whole story overall. I think there are parts of it that are kind of hand-wavy and whatnot. Not completely connected or explained.

Warnings: Maybe if you read this the right way you may notice that Harry's a little bit of a sugar-daddy. Low self-esteem, cheating, mentions of sex stuff.

Summary: Harry loves annoying the girl in his classes. She's an easy target. And more often than not, she teases him right back.

Which Harry is an absolute sucker for.

“Hey,” he hissed.

She ignored him. Instead, her gaze bounced back between the board where Professor Charles was writing on the whiteboard and the paper in front of her alongside her notebook, dated and titled ready to jot down any issues she had as they worked through the new material.

Something hit the back of her head. Nothing that hurt. But she felt it in her hair. Probably a gum wrapper. Or maybe the actual piece of gum. She wouldn’t have been surprised. She reached behind her head without looking, grateful it wasn’t a piece of gum, and she dropped the wrapper in her bag beside her to dispose of later.

He dropped his calculator off his desk (flung it was more accurate) so it landed right by her foot. She didn’t flinch as it clattered and ignored the curious peeks of others looking at her like she was the one causing the noise.

“Give me a pencil,” he was right next to her, grabbing his calculator.

“Go fuck yourself,” she whispered so quietly she wondered if Harry could even hear her.

“Please! I forgot!”

“You always forget,” she hissed back.

Professor Charles cleared his throat. She glared at her paper as her cheeks burned with embarrassment. How dare Harry embarrass her in front of her professor because he was too stupid to bring his own pencil again. She placed dots on her graph as her professor did, stabbing at her paper a little too hard. Pretending it was Harry’s Voo Doo doll. Just so it would stop. So he would stop. But no. He was still knelt beside her.

“Mr. Styles, is everything alright?” Professor Charles asked.

“Yup, just tying m’shoe,” he said and stood up with a grin. That grin probably got Harry out of a speeding ticket, especially if he was pulled over by a female officer. Probably got him out of homework when he was in school because he knew how to make anyone feel flattered and good about themselves.

That stupid, pretty smile of his with the most adorable dimples probably melted any woman that looked his way.

Professor Charles rolled his eyes as he turned back to the whiteboard. At the same time Harry plucked her pencil from her grip mid stroke of the number eight she was writing. Before she could protest or even fully grasp that her writing utensil was stolen, Harry was back in his seat... right behind her. She took a deep breath and tilted her head to the ceiling trying to keep herself calm so she wouldn’t scream at him in front of everyone. So, she wouldn’t look like a lunatic. Why did he have to sit behind her? She reached into her bag and pulled out her pencil case and continued writing as if Harry hadn’t interrupted her at all.

She didn’t have a class following her lecture so she would have a second to breathe and eat, which wasn’t the case most days. Fortunately, she was head tutor at the academic center in the library which wasn’t far from the dining hall. It was also pretty easy going at the center, so she could eat while working. But it was always nice to pretend and be a regular student and eat in the hall. She listened to music and read her book. The only hour she got to read much these days. After tutoring, she would be headed to one more class before she was back to work at the college bar in the center of town.

Her schedule was mapped out to the minute. Her days filled to the brim with school and work. Because she didn’t have a choice. It was the same way every penny of her budget was scheduled and allotted for other things as well. It didn’t leave time for friends.

“Hey gorgeous.”

Well, one friend.

He pecked her cheek before sitting across from her. “Class good?” He asked.

She nodded. “Yeah, how was yours?”

He reached over the table, held her hand, and skimmed his thumb along her knuckles. It was sweet. If it wasn’t so forced. “Good,” he smiled.

Isaac was an extremely handsome guy. He was popular, smart, and funny. His family had big plans for him and that was why he was on this prestigious college campus.

“Hi Isaac,” a flirtatious call sounded from across the room. He turned to find the culprit but came up short.

“By the door,” she said. Isaac turned releasing her hand as he did and waved at the girl who dissolved into giggles. After greeting the masses, he turned his attention back to her. “Can I suggest something?”

“Of course you can, girlfriend.”

She rolled her eyes. “Do you really want to be with the kind of girl who will openly flirt with someone in a relationship?”

“I think everyone knows it’s a fake relationship.”

“Regardless,” she shrugged.

“Jealousy doesn’t become you, my love,” he winked. He grunted when she tossed one leg over the other beneath the table and perhaps overshot just a hair.

She met Isaac on the first day of college. She was bringing her own stuff into her dorm room alone. His parents caught sight of her. Recognized her as she looked like her mom’s twin from way back when they all roamed this campus themselves. But unlike them, she was there under very different circumstances. She greeted them politely, smiled, and chatted as she knew best.

But Isaac approached her later that evening. She was sweaty from unpacking all alone. Her saving grace was a dorm room to herself. Perhaps the only lucky thing about her freshman year. This place screamed money. Money that she didn’t have anymore.

Isaac screamed money. “I need your help.” So, Isaac made sure she didn’t die of hunger and didn’t become a complete social pariah. Made sure she was taken seriously because of course this campus was littered with people who didn’t believe smarts could come without money.

In return, she was to be a doting girlfriend. When his parents were around, she was to be a fixture on his arm. Would it last forever? Probably not. But at least she would be okay for four years. She was kind, lovely, the exact kind of girl they expected their son to find and help keep him stable to take over his father’s company.

The kind of girl that would let Isaac be with whoever. Of course they had their moments. Like the lunch breaks such as the current one. Making appearances so that if anyone asked it wouldn’t be unheard of that they were together.

But she was no stranger to the whispers. That poor girl has no idea her boyfriend is cheating on her.

Fortunately, she didn’t have time for a boyfriend. Especially not one like Isaac. So, if her fake boyfriend was cheating on her, then at least she didn’t have to deal with it. Each time his parents came to town it wrecked her schedule. Wreaked havoc on her study time. Her work time. After three years, it was starting to feel like more of a give and less of a take in comparison to him.

But Isaac was nice enough. He still thanked her profusely—especially when his parents were in town. He didn’t use a lot of tongue when he kissed her in effort to keep up appearances. Knowing where his tongue had been, she was grateful.

“I’m not jealous,” she told him. “I care about you enough that I don’t want your heart to get broken.”

“You know I don’t have one of those.” She rolled her eyes. “You know, I’d be happy to throw you a bone, my love,” he leaned toward her, his eyes flirty and his smile lascivious.

She snorted. “Not even if you boiled it in disinfectant.”

“Orgasms help with stress.”

“I’m not lacking in orgasms. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Kinky, baby,” he winked. “You actually got me hard,” he told her. He wasn’t trying to sleep with her so much as he was willing to sleep with her. When they first arrived at college there were several firsts that both needed to accomplish and well, the fake dating wasn’t the only thing they were able to help each other out with. But after three years of rumors and knowing what Isaac was like outside their fake relationship, she was glad she got to him before all of the rumors swarmed around her.

“I have to go to work,” she told him getting up from the table.

Isaac really was a nice friend. Lovely even. But only if they were really alone. As time wore on, he got cocky and annoying—especially in public. It seemed like he was doing more of a favor for her than she was for him (even though she stopped asking him for things almost a month into their arrangement—shortly after she heard a rumor of a threesome).

But his parents loved her. They didn’t ask questions about his schooling or dating life because of her sweet nature. Originally, she felt guilty over their lie. But now, she was resenting that part of him more and more. He was a pretty good friend. But he was a dick of a boyfriend. “Are y’hungry, baby?” He asked.

She shook her head, cheeks blushing, and anger tingling in her blood. She hated the way he spoke to her in public; he sounded so condescending. Not at all like the kind and caring boyfriend he was supposed to pretend to be or even the kind and sweet friend he was behind closed doors. “Shut up, Isaac,” she sighed. His ego played a massive part in their friendship. He was rich and popular. She was not. “You sound like a douchebag.”

He pressed his lips to her ear, wrapped his arm around her waist. If she was looking in from the outside, she was sure it looked cute and romantic. “Mm,” he hummed ignoring her insult. “Can feed you something later,” he winked.

She knew people were watching so she smiled, leaned toward his ear. “If you’re going to feed me, I need a full meal.”

He chuckled, rolled his eyes and pecked her lips. “See you later, baby,” he kissed her softly again as he said it. “Gonna make sure you’re nice and full,” he promised loudly as he walked away. Not so loudly, that everyone would hear. But certainly loud enough for Harry Styles, who walked into the dining hall at that precise moment, to hear.

“Wow, bit extra for the dining hall,” Harry smirked. She glared at him, her cheeks warming.

“Don’t suppose you have my pencil?”

“Hmm,” he tapped his hands over his pockets. “Sorry Your Majesty,” he bowed in his over-the-top kind of way. “Clean out.” She rolled her eyes, grabbed her stuff, and made her way for the exit. Harry grabbed her hand at the last second pulling her back to look at him. “Y’okay?” He asked. “Y’look tired.”

She snatched her hand away. She was tired. But it didn’t feel good for it to be pointed out that she looked tired. “Thanks, I guess,” she rolled her eyes again. “I’m going to go now before you have a chance to insult me again.”

“Hey,” he frowned and called after her again as she continued walking away. “M’serious. Y’look like you’re getting sick.”

It was extremely unfair that Harry noticed that. “Are you concerned about me, Styles?” She glanced over her shoulder.

“Someone has t’remember t’bring me a pencil.”

“You could very much bring your own pencil.”

“Well, then I wouldn’t get t’have these lovely conversations every day, would I, Your Majesty?” She shook her head and ignored him as he continued speaking to her. “Hope he fucks y’good and full or whatever,” he called. She glared but refused to look back at him.

Harry appeared in one of her classes on the first day of her second year. A transfer from another school. His smile was panty-melting. Truly. Even she could recognize that. But regardless of how pretty he was, it was obvious how annoying he was going to be. He slid into the seat right behind her. “Hi,” he smiled. She ignored him, focusing on her professor starting class syllabus stuff. Besides, it seemed unlikely that someone like Harry was talking to her. “M’Harry,” he whispered.

She started scribbling on her notebook.

“He hasn’t even started yet,” he mumbled.

“Can I help you?” She turned around to look at him.

His smile was breathtaking. It really felt like he stole the breath from her lungs. “Sorry, Your Majesty. Didn’t mean t’interrupt y’doodle. Do y’have an extra pencil?” He asked.

She stared at the twenty-year-old man in his second year of college unprepared for his first day of classes. Perhaps if she rolled her eyes and ignored him, the trajectory of her life might have been something else entirely.

Instead, she handed her pencil to him.

“Thanks, Your Majesty.”

She rolled her eyes, anyway, facing forward.

In her Abstract Algebra class Harry was right behind her once more. “Psst.”

She ignored him. But his body was closer, his voice was closer. “Your Majesty,” he practically sang.

“What is your deal?” She hissed.

“I need a pencil.”

“Bring your own.”

“I like the one y’gave me. It wrote so smooth.”

She doesn’t know why she gave him a pencil.

But she really did know.

Harry was obviously handsome and from the way he chuckled under his breath over the lame jokes their professors made, he was quick and probably funny in his own way. But moreover, he had to be intelligent. Really intelligent to understand a pun about probability theory. The way others in the class fawned over him (guys and girls alike) it was apparent he was popular. Maybe popular like Isaac which made her dislike him just a bit.

It went that way every class. Harry was in four out of five of her classes both the fall and spring semester. Every class he needed a pencil. Each day he thanked her in his ridiculously attractive accent. Your Majesty.

What a dick.

But Harry talked to her. Even if it was just asking for a pencil. Or a picture of the notes he missed from when he went to the bathroom. He didn’t care that her family was broke. That she was broke. That she worked three jobs and hardly slept. He didn’t make her feel like she didn’t deserve to be on that campus.

“Did y’get the answer t’number nine?” It wasn’t a trick; he wanted her answer. Her opinion. “I got two different answers three different ways. There was no judgment that she couldn’t afford the extravagant lifestyle that her peers did. She had one winter coat. Not six to match her outfits. She didn’t have a car. She didn’t go out to eat and she made her own coffee except for on Saturdays when she splurged and treated herself to her favorite bagel and her favorite coffee.

Maybe it was because she saw him at a party. A girl at his side, smiling at him. Twirling her hair and touching his pretty chest. It was effortless. She didn’t have to try to flirt with Harry. It was a given. Rich, popular, perfectly pretty. The same as Harry.

Everything she wasn’t. Everything Harry would never want.

So she tended to Isaac. Kept to herself.

Gave Harry an absurd number of pencils.

Which continued into their third year. Where things got busier, harder, and more overwhelming.

But Harry was always right behind her. Asking for a pencil. Making her cranky.

But always making her feel normal when no one else did.

It was obvious Harry had money. The key on his ring had a symbol for a car that would never be in her price range. His clothes were pretty, the latest trends. Even his sweatpants looked like they were designer.

Maybe it could have been that way for her. Maybe if her dad hadn’t embezzled all their money. Hadn’t gone to jail and left her and her mother with anything more than a penny. Growing up she didn’t feel rich, but she never wanted. But right as she was applying to colleges, with only one college campus that made her heart happy, it was the first time in her life she thought about and hated money.

She imagined no one on campus ever felt that way.

But even if Harry had the nicest clothes and the nicest car, he never flaunted what he had. Not even to his friends. He didn’t show off or act like he had a ton of money. He was just there.

Which is why perhaps, when he annoyed her to pieces, she didn’t mind giving him a pencil in the end.

It was a bad day. She missed her mom. She was exhausted. Didn’t have time to make herself a coffee which just felt criminal. The test on her mind nearly brought her to tears as she sat down in her seat, seconds before her professor walked in.

Her pencil case was empty.

Part of her felt sad she wouldn’t have a pencil for Harry. Would he ask someone else? Would he stop asking her because of it? God, why did she even care? It was a blessing. He would stop asking her. She wouldn’t have to keep wasting money she didn’t have on pencils.

Plus, he wasn’t even there.

The test landed on her table. Her brain felt weary. Was she getting sick? Probably. Stress did a number on her immune system. It was a miracle she wasn’t sick all the time.

Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes she tried to calm her mind. It wasn’t the time to think about the reading she needed to complete, the shift she was covering at the academic center, or the dinner she was really looking forward to splurging on. It had been ages since she had chicken in her pasta dish.

“Hey,” how long were her eyes closed? How did she miss him coming to his seat.

“I don’t have a pencil, Harry,” she hissed back.

“Of course, y’do,” she could hear his eye roll.

“I don’t, I forgot my pencil case.”

He snorted. Her eyes flicked to Professor Charles who didn’t look up from his own paper at the front of the room. “C’mon, quit being a brat.”

“A brat?” She whispered.

“Quiet,” Professor Charles still didn’t look up.

“Sorry Your Majesty, jus’ give me a pencil and—”

“I don’t have one!” Her voice was quiet and maybe if she wasn’t only two rows from the front of the room, it wouldn’t have been a big deal when he pulled it out of her grip.

But she was towards the front.

Professor Charles stood beside their desks. “You’re both excused.”

Her face felt hot and pale at the same time. She felt like she was going to throw up. The feeling of eyes on her made her more embarrassed than the time she tripped and fell at her third-grade band concert. “Professor Charles,” she started.

“Enough,” he snagged her paper from her desk. Her throat felt tight, her eyes prickled, and she thought that maybe in a different life she could have been friends with Harry. Liked him, even.

But not then.

She bit on her lip to keep from crying as she packed her stuff into her bag and marched out of the room, head held high, and ignoring everyone’s stare. Especially the guy following her out of the classroom.

She slapped the door to the building as Harry continued following her. She was fuming. Practically steaming from his perspective. Yet he couldn’t help but think she looked absolutely adorable. “Quit fucking following me!” She snapped.

“My God, you’re so uptight,” he rolled his eyes.

“Harry Styles, you’re an absolute dick. Just leave me the fuck alone, for God’s sake.”

It garnered the attention of a few onlookers. But their path to the dining hall was quiet given it was the middle of class time. "Jesus Christ, do y’ever jus’ take a break? S’one fuckingtest, Your Majesty. For fuck’s sake. He’ll probably drop it. Quit being a baby."

A sniffle. One small, tiny noise.

"You don't get it do you?" She snapped. She didn’t want to. But she couldn’t hold it in anymore. It was too much. The final straw.

In the entire time Harry had known her he had never seen her this upset. Not like this. Not to the point where she was crying.

Because of him.

He made her cry.

"I have a squeaky-clean record. I have to be perfect all the time. I can't let one hair be out of place. I can't get one bad grade. If I do, then everyone around me makes comments and they assume it’s because I have no money. The poor girl can’t hack it here. It's this massive pressure on me all the time. I can't get caught doing normal party things. I can't get caught cheating on a test, Harry. I can’t. I lose my scholarship if I don't maintain my GPA. I can hardly afford to be here, Harry. I have to work three jobs. I have to budget every minute of my time as much as every dollar of my bank account. Do you know I haven't been home in three years? I miss my mom so much and I can’t even afford to go see her and I just pretend because—” she covered her mouth and Harry swallowed hard, willing himself to not cry as well. This wasn’t about him. This was all about her right now. “And now,” she croaked. “I’m going to have to skip dinner because I need to buy new pencils because I have been giving them to someone who’s too fucking inconsiderate to even fucking return them after annoying me for no better reason that for kicks.”

Her sniffles turned into sobs and Harry had never felt like more of an ass. He thought she was annoying at worst, but he never wanted her to cry.

Her crying, all her tears, they were all his fault.

"I study so hard. I have to. But I want to. I want to make enough money to support my mom, and I can’t do one thing wrong because if I do then I’ll lose everything. I have to study. I’m not like you, Harry. You just know everything and that's amazing, Harry, it really is,” and for the first time since he started interacting with her, Harry felt horrible for the way he had treated her. The compliment she gave was so thoughtful. The kindness in her voice was unmissable. He was practically shocked it even came from her mouth. “But not all of us are gifted with insane intelligence like you. Not all of us are God's gift to women and can go out and party and not be judged for kissing someone I like. Not all of us can afford to be here without help."

Harry kept his lip between his teeth to keep from speaking.

“I’ll get over it,” she sniffed. “Sorry for being so uptight.” She wiped her face and stalked off toward her dorm.

Harry had never felt worse about himself.

She wore her best interview dress. Her hair was pinned precisely so that the pieces that constantly flew away were at bay. She swallowed the rock that formed in her throat as she knocked on her professor's office door.

"Come in."

"Professor Charles," she was grateful he didn't look up because she was worried, she was going to curtsey or something equally ridiculous. "I wanted to apologize—"

"Your boyfriend already came to tell me he's at fault for the fiasco in class. He took full responsibility and said it was extremely unfair of me to refuse you the exam."

Her heart skipped a beat. "M-my boyfriend?" She whispered.

"Mr. Styles is very bold and I suppose I was a bit harsh. You are a brilliant young woman and role model to your peers," he praised. "Would you like to take the test now or schedule another time?" He asked looking up from his work.

She swallowed. "Um..."

"I would appreciate it, if you took it now. I need an answer key to grade the rest of them," his voice was steady, but she felt the compliment down to her bones. "I have a class in two hours, and I was hoping to check grading off my to-do list before it started," he explained.

She felt uneasy, overwhelmed, but not like she did when she sat down the first time to take the same exam. "I can do it now," she whispered and dropped her bag at her feet and situated herself at the table on the side of his office below the window. She got to work and completed the test as if all it asked was for her to write the alphabet down. She was checking over her work when she glanced out the window and saw the sprawling campus. There were people walking by at fast clips. Eager to get to the dining halls and rushing to make it to their classes on time.

But in the midst of all the people running by, there was Harry, sitting on a bench. His arm stretched across the back of it, while the other held his phone. He crossed his feet at his ankles and looked like a model for relaxation.

He took the complete blame for the test. She felt her heart aching and she stood from the table and went over to her professor's desk. "Is... Mr. Styles able to retake the exam as well?"

"I wasn't planning on it," he looked up at her. "Why?"

She bit her lip, looked at her feet. "I could have just given him a pencil."

"Mr. Styles should be prepared for his own education," he said knowingly. There was no way she was going to explain her relationship with Harry to her professor. Plus, she wasn't sure she'd be able to. She dropped her gaze and handed off her exam. "You can tell Mr. Styles he can come up and take the test," he said simply. "I have the answer key now."

She blinked.

"He'll probably ace it as well, but your handwriting is neater," he shrugged, tipped his glasses further down his nose and silently read her answers. She stood still, like she was waiting for the danger to pass. "Is there anything else you'd like to discuss?" He asked glancing back up. She shook her head, pinned to her spot. The strangeness of it all was overwhelming. "Men like Mr. Styles are going to have it a lot easier than you. The field you’ve selected is male-dominated and many will sell you short because of your gender," he said. "That doesn't mean you need to worry about your worth," he assured her. "You are a brilliant, hardworking, and talented individual. Mr. Styles should be bringing you pencils to class."

Her cheeks felt warm.

"Also, to be fair, it's nice to know you're not cheating off of each other because it was getting a little suspicious," he turned her exam back across his desk and wrote her score at the top of her page, upside down—98%. "Missed a negative."

"If Harry misses it, can you knock off more points?" She asked before she could stop herself then felt herself blush at how ready she was to throw him under the bus. She looked down shyly and covered her mouth before she looked up at him again.

Her strict professor made a face that resembled somewhat of a smile. "Of course."

“Thank you,” she hoped she sounded as gracious as she felt.

“Great work,” he nodded in response.

She headed out of the office and walked toward the bench. She sat beside him and faced forward. Harry put his phone back in his pocket and turned only his head toward her. "How'd y’do?" He asked.

"Ninety-eight."

He tutted. "Too bad," he smirked.

A smile twitched at her lips. She looked up at the sky briefly. "He said you can go on up and take it now," she told him.

He blinked. Surprise coloring his pretty features. Harry rarely seemed stunned, especially because of her. It was cute and also exciting that he was surprised by her. "What?"

She looked at her lap, trying to focus on her nails but not for too long because she was worried that she would gnaw on them if she let the nerves overtake her. "That was... the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me," she whispered. "Especially for Professor Charles' class," she continued. Taking a deep breath, she looked at him. "I was obnoxious. Bad day or whatever... it wasn't your fault and I’m sorry I made a big deal of it."

"I just wanted you to stop crying. You look ridiculous when you cry."

She smiled. A genuine one. Not a forced one that Harry had seen her give everyone under the sun. Not the one that she plastered on her face during presentations. It was beautiful. She was beautiful. “Y’had every right t’be mad at me. I was a complete dick.”

She shrugged. “I... I should have just given you a pencil... it turned out there was one at the bottom of my bag and... I kind of... like giving you a pencil. You just caught me at a really bad moment.”

“I know. M’sorry. I knew y’looked off.”

She tilted her head at him. “You knew I looked off?”

“M’pretty good at memorizing all your different looks,” he had a smile that made her melt. “Like right now, s’one of m’favorites. Y’look relaxed. It happens once, roughly, every three weeks, I think. Lasts maybe four minutes if m’lucky,” he winked. She rolled her eyes and shook her head at him. But Harry noticed how her cheeks turned red. It made him want to continue flirting with her. She was fun to flirt with. Her sarcastic comments were funny, even when directed at him, and it only amplified how smart he knew she was.

As much as Harry wanted to stay on that bench for as long as she did, he finally stood. Then rubbed the back of his head squinting at her, one eye closed. "Do you have a pencil?" He asked shyly.

She snorted, plucked hers from her pocket, and held it out to him. "I'd like it back," she reminded him. Even if he didn't, it was their thing now.

He rolled his eyes. "Wait here. It'll only take me half the time it took you." She rolled her eyes but pulled out a book from her bag and opened it to the page she was previously reading. "Hey kitten?" He asked. She didn't look up and Harry realized he never called her anything other than Your Majesty. He nudged her foot to make her look up. "Who did y’think I was talking to?" He chuckled.

"Who me?" She asked, but Harry noted the way her cheeks turned red. He rolled his eyes. "Sorry," she shook her head. "Did you need something else?"

His expression softened and he shook his head. "I'm sorry."

"Thank you," her voice was so gentle. "I'm sorry too."

"There's nothing y'need t'apologize for,” he shook his head quickly. “I was a complete ass," he admitted. She shrugged.

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” he said seriously. “Please don’t let anyone treat you that way.” She nodded silently. Knowing that she couldn’t promise that. Nor did she expect Harry to make her keep such a promise, but it made her heart squeeze with disappointment in herself. “Be right back,” he nudged her foot again as he headed back to the math building. She returned to her book and tried not to think about how Harry was probably right. This was the most relaxed she felt in months.

About forty minutes later Harry exited the building, walking at a leisurely pace. He sat on the bench once more. She didn't look up as he did but the butterflies in her stomach reminded her that he was there. Harry draped an arm across the back of the bench and then presented her pencil to her as if it were a bouquet of flowers. "How'd you do?" She asked gently.

He sighed, clucked his tongue. "Ninety-five,” she smiled but tried and failed to hide it from him. "I missed two negatives."

She giggled. "How embarrassing."

"How embarrassing," he mocked in a voice that was meant to sound like her. "You're so annoying. Do y’know he uses your work as the answer key?"

It had to be a record. The longest time they had been together without bickering. The number of times she smiled because of him.

The fastest someone had ever fallen for someone she was supposed to hate.

When Harry saw her boyfriend, he started looking for her. He was clearly busy with his friends and the women they were entertaining. But she wasn’t amongst them. He did a loop around the party. Looking for her even if he shouldn’t have. He stopped and chatted during his search so it wouldn’t be obvious. But even when he did stop and leaned against the wall, or grabbed another drink, he kept scanning for her.

When his loop came up empty of the pretty girl he liked to annoy, he wondered where she was and how he could ask without it being weird.

“Hey stranger,” Eleanor smiled and kissed his cheek. “Where’ve you been?”

Louis gave a polite wave to his best friend from across the way, a knowing smile on his lips, grateful that someone he trusted could keep an extra eye on his lady.

“Jus’ wandering around,” he mumbled.

Did he sound disappointed? He felt disappointed.

She stared at him and stood on her toes to reach his ear so she could speak to him directly over the loud music. “She’s not here.”

“What?” Harry pulled back like she slapped him. Was it that obvious? It couldn’t have been. He was just… wandering. Like a lost, lovesick puppy wondering where she was and hoping he would find her to make the weird feeling in his chest go away. Eleanor cocked an eyebrow at him. Silently telling him that hewas not fooling her. “Fuck,” he mumbled sipping his drink. It was pathetic and obvious.

“She doesn’t come to these things,” Eleanor shrugged.

“Why?”

She sighed, rolled her eyes. “He doesn’t want her here.”

Harry felt like the words Eleanor said were spoken in a language he didn’t know. “Who doesn’t want her here?”

“Her boyfriend.”

The grip on the bottle Harry was holding tightened. “Oh.”

“Go ahead. Ask.”

“Ask what?”

“Harry.” He closed his eyes and looked around to find him. It was like he already knew it was going to break him. He didn’t want El to continue even though he knew he needed to hear it. “What he told her to keep her away? She dotes on him too much. Worries too much about her reputation and everyone else’s. She doesn’t have fun. So, he doesn’t want her here. At these kinds of things.”

Honestly, a party didn’t seem like her vibe. She was more of a game night kind of girl. Someone you could take to a family cookout or a pool party with kids. But calling her not fun? Because frankly, Harry realized he hadn’t liked a single party he’d been to in months and it’s because her banter wasn’t there to keep him company.

“Oh,” he murmured. Trying to feign indifference.

“Don’t you want to ask what I think?” Harry didn’t look at his friend. His eyes finally landing on the man that didn’t deserve the sweet, intelligent, and beautiful girl he didn’t invite. He followed his path up the stairs to the second floor. Right as Eleanor told him the worst thing he had ever heard. “He hooks up with other girls and he has the common decency to do it behind her back,” she shrugged.

“What?!” He spit his eyes dropping to Eleanor again. How could she be so casual about this?

“She knows…or I would imagine she suspects,” she shrugged. “But she’s good for his family. They adore her. And he helps her reputation. She’s trying so hard to dig her family—”

It was like he knew. Everything. All of it made sense. Every tiny fiber of her being was made for someone else—whether it was her family who she adored and helped as much as possible, Isaac who didn’t deserve her at all, or even Harry, who honestly wasn’t sure he was much better than Isaac. “Does she know he sleeps with them?”

Eleanor looked at him suspiciously. “I don’t know if they sleep with him. I’m assuming. But I think it’s a pretty good assumption. He’s probably—”

Harry slammed his bottle on the ground shattering it and drawing the attention of those around him. He took the stairs two at a time and opened every door to every room—an unspoken party rule: never open a closed door.

He was breaking it.

A girl shrieked and he just knew he had found the right room. He didn’t pay any attention to her scrambling to cover up her naked chest and instead yanked him clean off the bed. “What the fuck!?” Harry shoved him back into the hall. He was only in his boxers. Piece of shit. Someone whistled and Harry shoved him harder as he tried to push him back and make his way for the bedroom again. “What the fuck, Styles?!”

“Call her,” he snarled. Shoving him against the wall again when he tried to continue escaping. “End it. Now.”

“What are you—”

“You’re going t’cheat on her?” Harry’s voice was venomous. “Her?” He repeated. Like that was really all he needed to say. Everyone was staring now. Harry kept going. “Call her and end it. Or I’m going over and telling her you’re done.”

The stupid prick tilted his head at Harry almost condescendingly. “Do you want her? She’s not like us.”

Harry didn’t like the way he said us. There wasn’t a single connection he wanted to be associated with in context of the vile piece of trash in front of him. Other than he managed to pick the sweetest girl he had ever met. But simultaneously, the very wrong girl to fuck with, because Harry also picked her. Unlike the moron in front of him, he was going to do everything he could to protect her and her heart.

“She’s doesn’t have money. She won’t understand—”

Harry punched him across the cheek before he could stop it and someone else watching groaned at the impact and Harry continued talking. “Tell her now.”

“Christ, Styles! What the fuck!” He rubbed his jaw.

“Tell her.”

“I’m not telling her shit. She knows she needs me more.” Harry jerked back like he had punched him back. “What? You don’t think she’d give up the reputation I have, do you?”

Harry watched him silently for only a moment longer. Without a word, he headed back into the bedroom grabbing the stray clothes. Before anyone could rationalize exactly what he was doing, he was sprinting down the steps and outside.

He threw them in the pool without thinking, ignoring the laughter and shouts from him as he hurried around the side of the house. He continued running and didn’t look back.

Harry was in her dorm. On her floor. Stopped in front of her door.

He knocked.

Repeatedly.

There was no answer, but he knew she was there.

So, he knocked again.

And again.

Eventually there was a click of her lock despite the fact it couldn’t be opened without her key card. Of course she was all about safety. Finally, he heard her voice starting to speak as she opened the door. “I’m off duty if you have an emergency, you’re supposed to see the RA on duty and—” The door was open and out of the way before she finished talking. Harry pressed himself inside. “Harry! What are you—”

“Tell me s’not true.”

“What’s not true?”

“Y’know he hooks up with other women?” He glared at her.

The color drained from her face.

Harry rubbed his hand across his face. “What is the matter with you?! Are you so desperate for a scrap of affection you’ll open yourself up t’diseases and shit because you—”

“Shut the fuck up,” she hissed tears stinging her eyes instantly.

“—need him? You don’t need him. You’re a thousand times better than him. A million! Y’could have any guy y’want, and they would still want t’grovel at your feet. Why would y’pick the one Goddamn asshole who—”

“You don’t know shit. Harry Styles. Stop pretending like you know me because —”

“Then explain it t’me because I can’t think of one fucking reason someone as intelligent, kind, beautiful, and hilarious as you would—”

A weird noise left her throat. Almost a squeak. It was adorable. If Harry wasn’t so mad. He would have told her such. Would have reveled in it because she was so fucking sweet and cute. But instead, she asked the most heartbreaking question known to man.

“You think I’m beautiful?”

Her question was so soft. So unbelievably shocked. Innocent. All the words left his head. It was too quiet. His shoulders were rising and falling too hard and too fast. “What?” He shook his head.

She looked at her feet. Harry scanned her. Her shirt was too big. It didn’t look like she was wearing pants. Maybe she wasn’t. Harry hoped she wasn’t. She only wore one sock. Like she lost the other in her sheets or maybe she only purposefully put one on because only that foot was cold. Those pretty eyes looked at him, anxiety, frustration, sadness, all staring back at him from the depth of her soul. “No one has ever said I’m beautiful before.”

Harry felt something die in his chest. He really thought he would start groveling on his knees for her because he was one of millions of guys who wanted to grovel at her feet. He wanted to be better. As soon as he made her cry over missing a test, he wanted nothing more than to be better for her. “No one?”

“Just... my family...” She shrugged.

“Kitten,” he rolled his eyes. “You’re… you’re really beautiful,” he rubbed a hand over his mouth, pinching his lower lip, as he scanned her. “In a way that probably makes a lot of girls jealous,” she snorted. He sighed. “Seriously. Your hair, kitten. It’s... so silky and shiny and your eyes,” he shook his head. “And your brain, my God,” he smiled softly. “M’not even going t’mention your body. Because you’re more than your appearance, but m’really...” he nearly sighed like a lovesick teenager. Maybe part of him still was. “You’re stunning, kitten.”

She blushed. Really blushed. So hard that Harry could see it in the dim light of her room cast from the twinkly lights she had strung around the window. Her cheeks were so red and utterly beautiful. For a second Harry thought it would be easy. All of it. Getting her to like him. Trust him.

Her face morphed into one of utter distrust. “That’s mean,” she whispered. “You’re... that’s mean to...” she shook her head.

“Kitten,” he frowned. Unable to believe she could think like that. He didn’t even know where to begin. Everyone had to like her. She was lovely, beautiful, so intelligent it took his breath away.

But she mistook his hesitation for the worst. She shook her head. “Forget it. You’re just... being nice to me because... because you feel bad or something,” she sniffled. The poor thing couldn’t even take his compliment. Harry wanted to cry. “Just the way everyone else does,” she laughed bitterly. “Thank you for being nice. Or whatever. For wanting to protect me. I don’t need it,” her voice cracked. “You can go back to your party or... whatever it is that—”

“Love,” his heart felt achy.

“No seriously. I get it. I’m too nice. I’m stupid to let him walk all over me but you don’t know the kind of reputation my family has in comparison to everyone here. So yeah. I let him use me as a prop—”

“Stop it,” he snapped and shook his head.

“—because I’m good for his image, too. Even if it makes me miserable and—”

“Kitten, I’m serious. Stop it,” his voice was almost raw. Like he had been screaming for hours. Maybe it was the combination of anxiety and frustration rushing through him. Like adrenaline but worse. He wanted to cry.

“—it’s pathetic that when people see me with him, they see this innocent—”

“Shut. Up.”

“—intelligent girl who doesn’t know anything because her family is poor and broken—”

“Stop it!” His voice took on a new octave. It made her words fall away.

They were both seething with anger and frustration. The tears in her eyes made him sick. Like when he made her cry because she couldn’t take her test. It was only the second time, but he quickly realized he hated it when she cried. “Stop what, Harry?”

“Stop minimizing who you are,” he practically growled.

“Everyone else does it.”

“Oh yeah? Name one time I’ve done that. If everyone has done it; tell me, kitten. When have I. Ever. Made you feel like less?”

She was silent. Finally.

Harry never made her feel like less. He annoyed the shit out of her. Pissed her off and made her sad. But he never made her feel like she didn’t deserve to be on that campus. Never made her feel inferior.

“M’going t’kiss you,” he warned stepping closer to her now that he made his point.

Her brain restarted. Her cheeks flushed again. “Harry, we can’t I’m... in a relation—”

He glared at her as her back pressed to her bed frame. Cornering her in her open room that was suddenly infinitesimally smaller than it was seconds before. “S’not a fucking relationship,” he snarled. “M’not sure what y’were doing. But you’re not doing it anymore. Not with him. Never again.”

“But we were—”

“Y’don’t need him,” he assured her. “Trust me.”

“But—”

“Y’have me, kitten. M’gonna do whatever y’need,” he cupped the back of her neck, making the words stop on the tip of her tongue and put one hand on the small of her back, pulling her to him swiftly and devouring her lips. She moaned instantly, seconds into the kiss. His lips felt like warm little pillows. Cushioning her own. It was intoxicating. Unfairly, he pulled away almost as quickly as it started. “Oh s’nice, kitten,” he praised. “Moaning already,” he pulled back and peppered kisses along her jaw. She whimpered softly, making him groan. “Y’make pretty little noises like that, kitten. M’not gonna be responsible for what comes next,” he warned pressing his lips back to hers.

Her fingers tangled in his hair at the back of her head. Harry leaned forward arching her backward and wrapping his arms around her tightly. He didn’t want to be aggressive, but there was something in the way her mouth tasted, the way her body felt, that he couldn’t stop kissing her. Hardly breathing, or maybe he was trying to breathe all of her in, he continued pulling her lips into his mouth. Hoping that somewhere along the way, they would get stuck like that. Destined to spend eternity attached by their kiss like a Greek punishment. Except the endless touch of her mouth wouldn’t be punishment. Because he wanted it to be endless. Wanted to spend forever showering her with affection because she deserved that and so much more.

“Can I stay the night, kitten? I’ll sleep on the floor if y’want,” his voice was practically ragged. His forehead pressed to hers. “I jus’ don’t want t’leave you. Please don’t make me leave.”

“You can stay,” she whispered, her voice breathless and airy. “Not on the floor, though.”

“M’not a bat, kitten. Can’t hang from your ceiling,” he joked.

She snorted. “C’mon,” she tugged him to her bed and pulled her in right behind her beneath her covers.

There weren’t many times Harry felt peace. “Harry?” She asked, as she settled into his embrace. His lips skimmed along her face, pressing every so often to whatever he could reach. Like he couldn’t stop himself.

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

He squeezed her. “You’re welcome, beautiful.”

She sighed. “Your mouth is pretty nice when you’re not talking,” she said quietly.

He chuckled. “Just you wait and see, kitten.”

As lovely as the night before was, she tried to maintain a semblance of her routine between replaying the kiss(es) and the angry confession over and over in her head. At the moment, she was grabbing lunch for herself. It was probably going to set her back a bit since she’d need to buy more pencils since Harry stole them all, but she was a little too tired to go without supplying herself with more energy. She pulled her wallet out as the cashier rang her up. “It’s all set, love,” she said sweetly. Tilting her head, she gazed at the woman as if it were a joke.

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s all set,” she repeated. “Your food’s been paid for already.”

She blinked, glanced around, looking for someone that fit the description of Good Samaritan. “Who...?”

“I’m not sure. I was just told that if you came through the line to tell you it’s been taken care of. You can get whatever you want,” she shrugged.

Blinking again she glanced around again. A line formed rapidly behind her. She gathered her items and headed for a seat. The one where Isaac usually joined her. But there was no Isaac. She read her book and listened to her music in silence. It was peaceful. When the hour was up, she headed back to the kitchen area to grab another snack, lining up behind the others waiting to check out as well. “Your food’s paid for.”

She felt like she was being pranked. “Again?”

“No, always.”

She felt like her mind was short circuiting. “What?”

“Your meals. All have been paid for. For the year.”

The snack she got was going to be uneaten because she felt like it was a prank. “I don’t understand.”

“I really don’t have more details than that. We were just told your food was paid for.”

“We?”

“My boss left, but I can have him reach out and explain it.”

“Please. Thank you.”

Stunned, she left with her snack. She headed to the library academic center. The tutors on her shift all waved to her. “That gift is for you,” Gabby said. At the front table was a fairly large giftbag. The kind you get for a kid’s birthday and put a board game in it. She looked at it curiously and pulled the tissue paper out of the way. She swallowed the lump in her throat realizing she didn’t need the dining hall manager to reach out to her after all.

She plucked the card from the slot on the side of the bag.

Half are probably for me anyway.

The bag was filled with packages of her favorite pencils. More than she would need for the rest of her undergraduate degree. Maybe even graduate. Or even the rest of her life.

She took a deep breath and pulled out her laptop and opened her email. She typed in Harry’s address, because she still didn’t have Harry’s phone number. Even after making out with him for hours. After waking up in his arms later than she was supposed to and letting his lips linger on her skin.

She wrote her message and pressed send before she could overthink it.

You didn’t have to do that. It’s way too much, actually. I’m a little uncomfortable imagining you spending THAT much money on food and pencils.

Well. If you died of starvation, I wouldn’t have anyone to bother. Kind of a boring way to suffer through the last two years of college—we have Real Analysis I and II next year. I can’t do that alone.

Thank you. That was... very nice of you.

You’re welcome, kitten. Coffee is free too; I went to every shop within walking distance and left your picture. An old ugly one from your mom’s Facebook page, don’t worry. Didn’t want you to get a big head about all of this. It’s not a big deal.

Help yourself to whatever you need and if you need something else let me know.

And this is my phone number so you can stop emailing me like it’s 2003.

She smiled fondly at the message. Closed her laptop and felt happier to be at work than she had in weeks.

Harry didn’t force anything. She was lying against his chest in her small room, on her small bed. “I’m sorry it’s so cramped,” she whispered.

“S’better for snuggling,” he shrugged and kissed the top of her head. “Go t’sleep, please, kitten.”

“Don’t you want to... I don’t know, fuck or something?”

“Well, when y’propose it so romantically like that,” he murmured.

She pouted. “I don’t know... I just assumed that...”

“That m’like Isaac? Please don’t make that assumption anymore.”

“So, you don’t want to fuck me?”

“Oh, more than anything,” he tilted her head up and brushed his finger on her warm cheek. “But not until you’re ready.”

“I literally just—”

“No. Y’think s’because we’re supposed to. Not because y’want to,” he shrugged one shoulder. “I’ll wait,” he promised and kissed the tip of her nose, and it was the lamest kind of kiss imaginable. Being twenty-one and melting over a kiss on the nose.

Yet it made her want a thousand more of them. Made her want to cry with how adored she felt. Harry didn’t care that she worked a thousand hours. He didn’t expect her to make out with him. Or blow him. Or anything sexual. No, he practically begged her to sleep in his arms.

It was unfair how sweet he was wrapped up in the body of someone that made her infuriated for the last year and a half. Right as she was about to pass out, she jerked herself awake involuntarily. “Y’okay, love?” He hummed as if she so much as coughed and not nearly punched Harry in the face with her movement.

“Tired.”

“I know, baby. M’trying t’make y’sleep,” he combed her hair down. Traced her spine in the same movement. “Surprise, surprise, you’re a bit stubborn.”

“Who me?”

“Want me t’sing?”

“Don’t want my ears to bleed, no.” Harry chuckled softly. Ignored her.

Then hummed.

It was so warm, so soft, it felt like magic. Harry could sing. That wasn’t on any Bingo cards when she thought about Harry. She didn’t even know what song he was singing. But it lulled her right to sleep.

Harry was wrapped around her in the small bed, his head tucked below her chin, his face smushed into the front of her shirt. If she wore a lower cut shirt, Harry would have been drooling on her boobs. “You’re able to breathe in there?” She whispered, threading her fingers through his hair.

“S’the only way I want t’go,” he promised, his voice muffled with sleep and the fabric on her body. “Or with y’legs wrapped around m’head,” he shrugged one shoulder. If Isaac said that to her, she would have punched him. When Harry said it, it made her want to wrap her legs around his head. Made her squeeze her legs together. “Felt that,” he mumbled. Her legs were wrapped around his waist, so he had no choice but to feel it. “Did y’sleep okay?”

She nodded. “Did you?”

“Extremely. Wrapped up in m’favorite girl.”

Her heart fluttered and she kissed the top of his head. Never would she have imagined Harry being so sweet and lovely like this. “Are you... going to be mean in public to me?”

“I hope not,” he pulled away and rubbed his eye. He looked sleepy and boyish. A devilish combination for her skeptical heart. “Have I been mean t’you?” He asked. “I know I tease, but mean?” She supposed he wasn’t mean. Maybe the teasing tricked her.

“I guess the teasing—”

“M’so sorry love,” he frowned and cupped her cheeks, kissed her softly on the lips. “No more teasing,” he promised.

“Well,” she laughed softly. “I kind of like teasing you.”

He smirked. “I don’t want you to think m’mean,” his eyebrows pinched together.

“Can I ask you a question without making fun of me?”

“I think that depends on the question, kitten. If y’ask me some basic math problem like what’s the indefinite integral of x-squared times cosine x or what’s a negative times a negative—”

“Are we dating?”

He stopped his joke and cupped her face. Dropped his forehead to hers and brushed his thumb along her cheek. “I would fucking hope so, kitten.”

She swallowed. “You don’t care that I’m broke? Or that I work a lot and I’m crazy and—”

“No, I don’t care ‘bout any of that. You’re m’favorite person to annoy. The person I look forward t’seeing most in class. You’re the entire reason ‘ve never skipped class.”

Her heart fluttered. “You can’t pay for everything, Harry. It was a sweet sentiment but—”

“M’not letting m’girlfriend starve,” he rolled his eyes.

Her heart definitely fluttered. He was sweet. Harry was sweet. What a revelation. Or maybe she always knew that.

She looked into those beautiful green eyes that made her feel overwhelmed in the best way. “Why do you call me Your Majesty?” She whispered quietly. Almost scared to hear the answer.

He rolled his eyes again. A favorite past time of his. “Because kitten,” he pressed his lips over hers briefly, then kissed her forehead, and finally the tip of her nose. He met her gaze and made sure she was focusing when he spoke again. In a few minutes she would be busy, overwhelmed, and stressed. For the moment, Harry wanted to make sure she knew just how important she was to him. “I think you’re a queen.”

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anakinstwinklebunny · 9 days ago

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STALKER!NERD!ANAKIN HEADCANONS

TW: at some point it contains sexual content, so if you're sensitive to that or don't feel comfortable with it, please do not read it for your own safety and comfort. Death, murderer, swearing, weird behavior, psycho behavior

Author's note: got inspired by amazing @xzaddyzanakinx, check her sutff out, it's wayyy better!!!

Stalker!Nerd!Anakin who at the beginning seemed like a normal cute nerd

Stalker!Nerd!Anakin who would write down every small detail he learned about you in his special notebook

Stalker!Nerd!Anakin who would get nervous whenever the math class was about to begin (just because you're in it too). He doesn't have a problem with math, hell, he loves this subject but not as much as he loves you. His eyes would time to time move towards to where you're sitting, his cheeks heating up as he tries to pretend he's actually paying attention to what teacher says

Stalker!Nerd!Anakin whose one of the main wishes was to finally catch your attention. To make you notice him; his love for you, his unconditional commitment, his deep interest in everything you do - from your voice to your every small part on your body. It was something he wished and prayed for, to finally catch your gaze longer than one mere second

Stalker!Nerd!Anakin who began fantasizing about you late at night to make himself fall asleep sometimes

Stalker!Nerd!Anakin who, when you once struggled with your laptop in class, Anakin, the tech whiz, offered to help you out. He found it as a perfect opportunity to finally have his first real interaction with you. Although nervousness creeped all over his body, stopping right at his cheeks to make them rosy. His hands were gentle as they glided over the keyboard, but you had no idea that while he was fixing your issue, he was also installing a program that gives him remote access to your laptop. He smiled at you after, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose, and you thanked him—unaware that he had just gained access to every aspect of your life.

Later that night, as you were working, you noticed your laptop screen flickering for a moment. Although you brushed it off, not realizing Anakin is on the other end, watching you through your webcam. His breath catched in his throat as he watched you. The heat he couldn't just ingore rising inside him whenever he imagined what it would be like to have you by his side..every.single.day

Stalker!Nerd!Anakin who's always in the library, studying furiously or working on some coding project. Yet one day, you left a book behind on accident, and of course, he’s the one who finds it. Instead of returning it to you, Anakin uses it as an excuse to hold onto something of yours—your scent lingering on the pages (at least he thinks it lingers, that it's still there), your small scribbled notes on the margins. And the way his heartbeat quickened whenever he held something you did just second ago - it was so thrilling

Stalker!Nerd!Anakin who after the laptop 'help', brought himself the courage to talk to you. At first, he made sure to make it time to time and a small talks - about lessons you've just had, sometimes he tried to gossip (for the first time) about teachers he actually liked (but knew you hated) in jokey way to make you smile and agree at what he's saying - so he did baby steps that hopefully would let him get closer.

He was always obssesing over these talks, always came up to you with flushed cheeks, trying to ignore your sceptical-looking friends. Although he cursed himself after every interaction with you just because he stuttered a lot, and he wanted to make the best impression on you as possible (but who would have known that you finded it cute)

Stalker!Nerd!Anakin who gave himself time (but with his often excitement it was hard) to gain your trust, to 'know' you even better than what he knew already (so you wouldn't be suspicious about him knowing certain stuff)

Stalker!Nerd!Anakin who was thrilled to help you with subjects you sucked at. Often staying just for you long hours in the library after lessons;

"Hi, Annie."

That soft, sugar-sweet voice pulled Anakin out of his thoughts, snapping him back to reality. He looked up, and there you were—his Aphrodite, his goddess—smiling at him, your eyes bright as you took a seat next to him, your math books gently landing on the library's wooden table.

Anakin froze for a moment, his mind swirling. How was it that you could always leave him feeling like this—flustered, vulnerable? His usual composure disappeared every time you came near. He was used to watching you from afar, secretly lingering in the shadows, but now as you were right next to him, close enough that he could smell your perfume, his mind went dizzy

He swallowed hard, trying to control the quickened beat of his heart. “Hi, y/n he said softly, forcing a gentle smile. “So, what do you need help with today?”

You sighed, flipping open your math book, brows furrowing in that adorable way you always did when you were concentrating. “sequences... I don’t get it.”

Anakin's heart lifted slightly at the request. This was his chance—his moment to shine before you. “Don’t worry, I'll help you"

"That’s so stupid," you muttered, grimacing at the another math problem in front of you. You've been doing this shit for what felt like hours and you could feel your brain slowly release more and more smoke

Anakin only chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. “It’s not stupid. You’re just learning it. Trust me, math can save your life.”

The phrase almost made you vomit “That’s a bold statement.”

He grinned, watching your pencil scratch against the paper, marveling at how even something so mundane looked graceful in your hands. “Bold but true,” he teased. “If you were stranded on a deserted island without a signal, you'd need math to find your way back home.” he folded his hands between his legs, offering you this small smile

you huffed “I’d need a map, not math.”

“And how do you think they make maps?” he shot back with a smug smirk on his face. He was nothing like this shy, stuttering guy you knew just time ago. It was more endearing, in a way “Math. Without it, you wouldn’t have a map in the first place.”

You bit your lip in thought, a small furrow appearing on your brows as you glanced back at the task in front of you. The way your lips pouted slightly as you tried to focus made Anakin’s heart skip a beat. “Math is a haunting beast,” you sighed, writing the example down. “It doesn’t help you; it ruins you.”

Anakin chuckled again, shaking his head. “That’s just a matter of perspective.” His voice softened, dropping a little lower “You just haven’t seen it the right way. I can change that, you know.”

“Can you?” your tone teasing but laced with curiosity.

“If you let me, absolutely.” His eyes sparkled while watching you, drinking in every detail of your face. He had never been this close to you ever before. And oh God, he loved it so much. He could smell the faint scent of your vanilla perfumes, every inch of your skin seemed so touchable..so soft..so-- “But you’ve got to take it seriously. Otherwise, how can I help you?”

“I am taking it seriously, Anakin. You know I’m thankful for all the time and effort you put into this.”

The word time echoed in Anakin’s mind, sending a rush of emotion through him. Time—that precious thing he spent obsessing over you, watching your every move, memorizing every little detail about you.. If only you knew how deep his admiration went, how he lived for these moments alone with you..maybe you would understand that you deserve better than some jerk you've been dating. That you deserved someone who would want to know you, who would fall to his knees and beg to know you..who would do it all just for a small glimpse of your face in the sunglight

“Don’t mention it,” he murmured, his smirk returning. “I’m always happy to help you, y/n.”

He kept the conversation light and playful, teasing you just enough to make you smile, to keep your attention on him. Just as he always dreamed. He wanted this moment to last forever—to bask in your presence, in the warmth of your voice, in the sweetness of your laughter. He wanted you to feel how much he cared, even if he couldn’t tell you the whole truth yet

Stalker!Nerd!Anakin who hated your boyfriend;

“Y/n!” Jack’s sharp voice sliced through Anakin’s thoughts like a knife. “Pack your things, we’re leaving. Now.” The coldness in Jack’s tone made Anakin’s blood boil. How could anyone speak to you like that? Anakin would never dream of using such a harsh tone with you. Never.

“But I’m doing math ri—"

“Don’t care,” Jack snapped, cutting you off. “Pack your damn things. We’re leaving.”

The cruelty in Jack’s voice made Anakin seethe. The way he talked to you—like you were nothing—made his hands curl into fists under the table. Red-hot anger coursed through him, almost blinding him. Jack had no right. No right to speak to youlike that, to treat you like you were disposable. His heart pounded in his chest, the familiar obsessive urge to protect you, to be the one who cherished you, rising uncontrollably. He couldn’t stand the thought of you being hurt or disrespected by anyone, least of all by someone like Jack.

Jack caught Anakin’s stare, eyes narrowing with disdain. “What are you looking at, nerd?” His voice was full of arrogance and venom

Anakin’s eyes flashed with rage as he turned to meet Jack’s gaze, nails digging into his skin. He wanted to punch that smug look right off his face. Oh, how satisfying it would be to watch him fall. But Jack was taller, broader, physically stronger..yet..biology confirmed that people under different emotions are able to do impossible..so could it possibly mean..

“Jack, calm down,” you interjected softly, your voice shaking just a little as you tried to smooth things over without another cut skin and running blood. “Anakin was just helping me with math.”

Yet, Jack barely glanced at you, keeping his gaze locked on Anakin's face. Both of them looked as if they were about to throw their fists on themselves. Yet, Anakin wasn't the type of guy to hurt someone..right? “Whatever. If you’re not outside in five minutes, I’m leaving without you.”

Anakin’s blood ran cold as Jack stormed out of the library. The familiar feeling of being a failure, of possibly dissapointing you because he haven't done anything, didn't stand up and react at your boyfriend's behaviour corrupted his mind. What had he just done? He was supposted to protect you, and yet, here he was sitting like a failure. This tense, uncomfortable silence did not help him. Especially when your face flushed with embarrassment, your once-bright smile long gone. What had he just done? You looked down, fiddling nervously with your pencil before turning to Anakin.

“I’m so sorry about him,” you whispered “He’s just… having a bad day, I guess. Please don’t take it personally.”

Anakin wanted to scream. Bad day? That was your excuse? You were too kind, too forgiving. Jack didn’t deserve your apologies or your understanding. Anakin’s anger roared inside him like a beast, barely contained beneath his calm exterior. Jack wasn’t just having a bad day—he was a bully, plain and simple. And Anakin hated him for it. He wanted to protect you from this, from Jack’s cruel words and rough edges. Because you deserved to be treated like a queen, not like some accessory Jack could toss around whenever he felt like it.

So there was this question ringing in his ears again - what had he just done?

“It’s okay,” he replied softly, though his voice was tight with the effort it took to hold back his anger.

You offered him a nervous smile, the light that usually brightened your face now dimmed by Jack’s harshness. “I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t keep you any longer… but maybe we can catch up another time?”

Before Anakin could respond, you took his pen and started scribbling something in his notebook. Your soft hand moved gracefully over the page, your pretty handwriting was what captured his attention completely. He loved how even the smallest, most mundane actions were captivating when it came to you. Because for him, you could make something as simple as writing your name feel like magic.

When you finished, you handed the notebook back to him, a soft smile playing on your lips. “It’s my number,” you said, drawing a small smiley face beside it. “We can plan another time for tutoring.”

Your number. Your phone number. Anakin stared at the page in disbelief, his heart hammering in his chest. You had just given him a direct line to you. To you. His obsession surged, almost overwhelming him. He could barely keep his hands from trembling when he took in the sight on the paper. This was it—his way into your life.

“Sure. W-we can,” he said, trying to suppress the massive grin that threatened to take over his face. “Anytime.”

you smiled again, but it was smaller now, hesitant. Your eyes flickered toward the door, where Jack had disappeared moments earlier. “Thanks again, Anakin. I’m really sorry about Jack…i-I should get going before he leaves me stranded.”

Anakin watched you pack your things, his pulse quickening with each movement you made. God, you were so perfect, so sweet, even in the face of Jack’s cruelty. And you deserved better—better than Jack, better than anyone. He even knew he doeasn't deserve you, because for him, you were more than a human. His eyes each time saw you in angelic, heavenly way. As if God alone had sent you on earth to torment him for his sins, to make him suffer. You were so pure, and he so sinful.. so..dirty in all kind of sins. He didn't feel worthy enough to even be in your presence, yet he wanted it more than anything in the world

But if you'd give him only a chance, he'd be yours. Completely. Body and soul. Without exception

“I’ll see you later, Annie,” you mumbled softly, flashing him one last smile before heading towards the door.

The sound of his nickname on your lips made his whole body tingle. He barely registered you leaving, too caught up in the way you'd looked at him, the way you'd spoken to him. The way you had given him your number. It was like a dream come true. His obsession had reached a fever pitch—his heart ached for you - to have you, hold you, not let you go..

you were his, right?

at least had to be someday..

But then there was Jack. Jack, who, again, didn’t deserve you. Jack, who treated you like dirt, who took you for granted. Jack, who yelled at you , who made your smile disappear. Jack, who Anakin hated more than anyone in the world.

Anakin’s grip tightened around his notebook, his knuckles white with the pressure. He couldn’t let Jack get away with this. He couldn’t let Jack continue to be a part of your life. It was his place in your life he took, it was his destiny and fate to be someone more than just 'a nerd who helped you out'.

But again, he hadn't done anything to stop him from treating you like this. When he could, when he really had a chance to make a difference. He simply didn't

what had he just done?

Today was the day it had to change So he had decided. He would follow you, keep his distance, and watch - like he always does. He would make sure Jack never had the chance to hurt you ever again.

With his mind set, Anakin quickly packed his things, his heart pounding with anticipation.

Today Jack Scottland would meet God.

Stalker!Nerd!Anakin who killed your boyfriend;

Anakin took a deep breath as he started his car, his hands trembling with barely controlled rage. Every thought, every emotion, was singular—focused on Jack. Jack had to go. He gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles whitened, his breath coming out in shallow bursts. This was it. No turning back. Jack was the obstacle, the barrier between him and you. His mind wouldn’t let him rest until Jack was out of the picture—forever.

As he followed Jack’s car down the quiet road, he could feel his heartbeat quickening, pulsing in his ears. Jack, once more, didn’t deserve you. He didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you. Anakin’s blood boiled as he replayed Jack’s words in his head—the way he had spoken to you in the most controlling, cruel, disgusting way possible. He couldn’t stand it any longer. If he didn’t do something now, he’d explode.

When Jack pulled into an empty pullout far from your house, Anakin’s pulse raced from adrenaline. This was it. His moment. Now or never.

Anakin slowed his car and parked a few meters behind, eyes locked on Jack’s vehicle. His hands still shook as he opened the trunk, pulling out his baseball bat. The weight of it felt right, felt powerful. This wasn’t a game anymore—this was war. War that he promised himself to win, to never loose, because his thropy is more than anything he could have in his life. it was you Adrenaline pumping through his blood system, perfectly mixing with the uncontrollable rage he’d been bottling up for too long.

Jack was sitting in his car, lazily scrolling through his phone, completely unaware. Anakin’s stomach twisted in disgust. He didn’t care, didn’t even realize how much of a monster he was. The sight of Jack sitting there, nonchalant, as if he hadn’t just torn you apart with his words, made Anakin sick. He had to do this. He had to protect you.

Anakin approached, bat gripped tightly in his hand, tapping it lightly against the car window. The sharp sound snapped Jack’s attention.

“Get out,” Anakin hissed, his voice low and dangerous as if he was a completely diffrent person

Emotions, especially at a high intensity, impact our ability to make rational decisions - nature echoed amongst the pure hatred

“What?” Jack’s expression shifted from confusion to irritation as he slowly lowered the window.

“I said get the fuck out of the car.”

Jack sighed, clearly annoyed as he pushed open the car door, stepping out with a condescending sneer. “Listen, man, I don’t know what your prob—”

The moment Jack’s foot hit the ground, Anakin swung. The bat connected with a sickening crunch against Jack’s side, sending him sprawling to the ground with a grunt of pain. Blood sprayed from his mouth as he gasped for air, clutching his ribs. Yet, Anakin didn’t hesitate; he stepped closer, the fury burning brighter with each moment.

“You think you can treat her like that and just get away with it?” Anakin’s voice was harsh, gritted through clenched teeth as he stood over Jack, eyes wild with fury.

Jack groaned, rolling onto his back, blood dribbling from his lips."What the hell are you talking about?"

anakin's jaw clenched "pathetic excuse of a man"

Before Jack could add anything, Anakin brought the bat down hard, aiming for his head. Jack rolled out of the way just in time, the bat slamming into the dirt beside him. The impact sent a jolt through Anakin’s arms, but he didn’t stop. He swung again, but Jack was quicker this time, scrambling to his feet and grabbing hold of the bat, yanking it toward him.

For a brief moment, they struggled, locked in a vicious tug of war with the bat. Jack, stronger and bigger, managed to kick Anakin hard in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Anakin gasped, stumbling backward, but the rage inside him only intensified.

Jack seized the opportunity, landing a brutal punch to Anakin’s face, sending blood spraying from his nose. The taste of iron filled his mouth, but it didn’t matter. He barely felt the pain. All he could think about was Jack—the smug look on his face, the way he had spoken to you, belittled you.

Anakin roared, using the force of his rage to swing the bat hard against Jack’s face, smashing into his cheekbone with a sickening crack. Blood splattered across the side of the car as Jack crumpled to the ground, his face a mangled mess of blood and broken skin.

But Jack wasn’t done yet. He spat blood from his busted lips, managing a weak chuckle “So this is about her, huh? You’re fucking pathetic, man. You think beating me up will make her love you? You’re fucking psycho. She’ll hate you more than she ever hated me.”

Anakin’s vision blurred with anger, anger, nothing but anger, everything going red. He swung the bat again, this time aiming for Jack’s chest. Jack barely managed to roll out of the way, but not fast enough—Anakin’s bat clipped his shoulder with enough force to make the bones crack. Jack screamed, the sound piercing the night air, but Anakin didn’t care.

Jack lunged at Anakin, tackling him to the ground, fists flying. The two of them grappled in the dirt, blood mixing with sweat as they traded blows. Jack landed a solid punch to Anakin’s jaw, sending him reeling. Blood dripped from both their faces, coating their clothes in crimson colour.

"fucking--" another hit to anakin's face "psycho--" he panted, but before he could aim another hit, anakin grabbed his wrist, rolling them over

After mucch hits, anakin twisted his body, managing to grab the bat again, using it as leverage to slam Jack’s head to the ground. Blood slipped everywhere, yet it wasn't enough. With shaky legs, Anakin stood up and grabbed a handful of jack's hair only to smack his face into the side of his own car. The crack of Jack’s skull against the car's doors made Anakin feel an intense surge of power, almost a twisted satisfaction. Jack groaned, as if it was the only sound that could leave his already shattered face

yet it wasn't enough

Stalker!Nerd!Anakin who, with great care, made sure to get rid off any tools of the crime - he was awfully smart for that. It was almost weird..how a man who was his parent's contentment, now just killed a guy for a girl he was obsessed about..

Stalker!Nerd!Anakin who had a special folder for the videos from the camera on your laptop, special folder for your photos he was obsessing about even after such a long time, he still collected new things

Stalker!Nerd!Anakin who was nervous (but tried to hide it) when police found Jack's body.

Stalker!Nerd!Anakin who was for you when you grieved over the death of your toxic ex and months later, his wildest dreams came true - he was dating you. Was free to worship you, admire you.

He was addicted to you even more after the first date. Because this time, it was him who made you smile so much your cheeks hurt. It was him who made you laugh till your stomach hurt. It was the only type of pain he let himself give you

Stalker!Nerd!Anakin who felt extremely free in your presence. All his fantasies, all his dreams came true. He almost felt like on a cloud nine - so perfect, so light, so happy (despite of what he had done);

“Gonna keep teasing me like this all the time?” he asked with a lazy grin, propped up on one elbow on the bed.

“I’m not teasing you,” you replied with playfulness “Just showing off my new dress.”

The dress, a deep shade of red, highlighted your curves and drew attention to your most elegant lines. It clung to your form in all the right places, making you look absolutely stunning.

His eyes wandered over you, taking in every detail. The way the dress accentuated your body left him breathless. You were beautiful in everything you wore, but this dress—this was something extraordinary. “So, you put this on just to make me feral? Because you’re definitely succeeding.” he chuckled, leaning up on his elbow.

“I just wanted to know if you like it,” your smirk deepening as you gracefully crawled onto his lap, like a cat curling up to its favorite spot.

“Oh, I definitely like it,” his voice filled with admiration and a hint of playfulness. “But it’s not just the color that’s catching my attention.” His eyes roamed over your curves with unabashed appreciation once more.

“Oh really?” you giggled, your laughter a sweet melody that seemed to enchant him further. Your smile was radiant, and the way you looked at him made his heart swell.

“Mhm,” he responded, his own smile widening as he pulled you closer. His eyes continued their admiring journey “You’re so, so gorgeous. Did you really think I wouldn’t like it?” his fingers gently grazing the hem of your dress.

“I hoped you’d drool all over it, to be honest” your smile playful and tender as you delicately removed his glasses and put them on yourself.

Anakin’s smile grew even wider. The sight of you wearing his glasses, combined with the way you sat on his lap, made him feel like the luckiest man alive. His joy was almost overwhelming. He could barely contain his excitement. “I’d drool over you in anything, you know that,” his voice filled with adoration and a hint of humor. His heart was soaring, knowing that this perfect moment, with you, was his reality. "Even in a potato sack"

Stalker!Nerd!Anakin who had a deep need to observe you 24/7, at least in most of his free time. Because what if someone will hurt you? Or you'll hurt yourself and he'd not know, appear too late to help. So, he felt obligated to watch you

Stalker!Nerd!Anakin who stole some of your panties when you weren't looking and kept them in his apartment, not daring himself to even think about putting them into a washing machine

Stalker!Nerd!Anakin who was horribly obsessed with leaving marks all over your body;

“You’re leaving me hickeys,” you whined, glancing at the mirror to see the fresh, juicy marks on your neck to collection

“Can’t help it,” he replied with a smirk, wrapping his arms around your waist to connect his lips with your (this time) exposed shoulder, leaving a trail of kisses and gentle bites. The hickeys were more than just marks—they were declarations of his love, signs that you were his and his alone. He wanted everyone to see that you belonged to him. And if people wouldn't see your marks, he wanted to make sure you would knew who you belong to. His lips moved to your ear, whispering the phrase that made you shiver “Though I’d say my favorite is still the one on your ass.”

“You’re such an asshole,” you flushed and headed back to the bed

He chuckled, settling beside you and immediately pulling you close. His arms wrapped around your frame and he nuzzled into your neck, planting more kisses, and adding to the huge collection of hickeys. “I think you should get it tattooed,” he suggested playfully, his lips brushing against your skin

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @deceptiive @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless

(if you want to be removed or added then don't be shy and let me know 💋)

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casuallyanidiot · 3 months ago

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Imagine...

tw. yandere, death, general creepy stuff

You are a yandere author's muse! Every time he closes his eyes, he can only think of pure poetry. He can practically taste the words he'll put to paper when he looks at you, and he has to stop himself from groaning when the two of you speak. You have no idea how much self restraint he has when he could, in theory, bend you over on any nearest surface and have his way with you.

Instead yandere author settles for hunching over his desk late into the night. He knows that you don't like him all that well. He's heard you describe him as weird and creepy, but he doesn't mind. Not when he writes you to say such loving things in his stories. In fact, all his works are based on you. Your appearance, morals, personality were all imbued into the main character of the latest novel that was sitting in his drafts. Of course, he was the Male Lead, and he would spend night after night crafting a tale of how you would fall madly in love with him.

One day, however, you get hit by a truck.

Yandere author is devastated by this. He can barely see as he stumbles home that day. His eyes are blurred with tears, and his heart bleeds with untold prose and letters that he had yet to pen to you. He needs to hear your voice, to see your vibrant smile once again. So, he opens his unfinished story in order to find a modicum of comfort.

However when he looks over his writing, he realizes that something has... changed. It's like the character he based off of you has a mind of it's own. They're acting all wrong. They're not sticking to the lines he wrote, and he can see words on the paper writing themselves as your character seemingly reacts to the plot. He's confused, but he decides to write a little on the page to see what happens.

When he tries to have his character kiss yours, your character rejects it.

Yandere Author is giddy after this. He's not sure how, but somehow, someway, you, not just your character, no you had ended up living and breathing within the pages of his notebook. He knows it's crazy, but he doesn't care. Not when he can have you with a few strokes of a pen now.

Continuation Here

#tw yandere #yandere male #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere x darling #yandere author #yandere boyfriend #yandere isekai #transmigration #my writing #horror #x reader

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kamiversee · 5 months ago

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➶-͙˚ ༘✶ F*CK THE LIST

✧.* CHAPTER 2 || Fuck The Foolish Mistakes

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A continued tale after Gojo Satoru's blackmailing seemed to have much more to it than meets the eye.

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language, masturbation, pervy!gojo, tw; mentions/hints of stalking & obsession, some heinous activities, dark themes, disturbing actions, etc.

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 5.2k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——THE SUMMER BEFORE everything went to shit for you was the same summer in which you and Shoko decided to move in together. For two months of break, it felt so much longer than that. It was a time in which you spent getting closer and closer to Shoko, so much so that it was only natural that you would call her one of your closest friends.

Although, said friendship seemed rather one-sided. Sure, you both got along pretty well but from what it seemed— Shoko had plenty of other friends to run to whenever she wished. So, after you realized that, you got a bit more real with yourself and dubbed her as simply your roommate. Closest friend, but roommate nonetheless.

This summer was also spent single after you’d gotten dumped a few weeks before the last semester ended. You were sad about it for a while but Shoko was there to cheer you up. Meanwhile, the other people you thought were your friends steadily started to showcase their truer colors, revealing how they never really cared too much about you to begin with and dropped you just like your boyfriend had.

Ah, whatever, that’s all old stuff anyway. It took you maybe a week to get over all that foolishness. So by the time summertime came around, you thought things would get better for you. Instead, you lost your job and that’s where your struggle began. You may have picked up one or two during your summer break but ultimately, none of them stuck long enough to trickle over to your final two semesters of school.

And as you went through such things, a certain someone was keeping track of it all like some fucking stalker. This person in question being none other than Gojo Satoru himself. Unlike you, his summer was rather pleasant. He started babysitting due to his not-so-hidden love for children, he went out a decent number of times, and he heard things about you without even asking.

Why? Because he had a wonderful friend who talked about you to no end— Gojo became very thankful for Shoko because it’s due to her that the pages of his notebook began to fill with endless entries about you. Perhaps journaling you became some kind of hobby for him.

Or maybe it was the fact that he couldn’t see you as much since it was summertime so he treasured every bit of information he got on you. Why was he so hooked on noting it all down though? Was it really curiosity at this point or, was it something so much more? He’d long since labeled it as a crush but that doesn’t excuse his journaling.

Hell, at one point Gojo found himself mindlessly writing down vivid details of the way your laugh sounds— from any pitch that’s ever grazed his ears, to the number of breaths taken before and after. It was then that Gojo dropped his pencil and read over what the hell he’d written down.

His hand shot up to his forehead and his fingers went to soothe his temples, brows tensing, and eyes narrowing at his own words. Did he… Did he really just sit here and describe a woman, who he’s never spoken to, and how her laugh sounds? At the realization, Gojo had to close his journal and push it away from himself.

Sometimes, he may try to pretend like he doesn’t see any harm behind this journaling thing of his but at moments like this… He nearly creeps himself out. Imagine if you were to ever stumble upon such a thing. Gojo’s almost disgusted with himself. Not even a hi or hello has ever been spoken to you and yet here he was printing the details of that joyful sound you make when you find something humorous.

Gojo was very self-aware by that point, mentally telling himself that he needed to stop this madness and just talk to you like he craved. Maybe Suguru was right, maybe your having a boyfriend didn’t matter.

On that day, Gojo should’ve listened to his own warnings. He should’ve taken care of his own red flags right then and there.

But instead, he only got worse.

—--

Depicting the details of your laughter was one thing. But going out of his way to print out photos of you he’d found on Instagram was an entirely different level of crazy.

Okay, so perhaps this was no longer just some cute lil’ crush… Gojo doesn’t know how his… curiosity got so dark. He doesn’t know where or when it really started but at some point, he thinks he became aware that this wasn’t exactly normal. Eventually, Gojo realized this was more of an obsession— you were an obsession.

A scary one too. Even scary to himself. The mere mention of your name would make Gojo’s heart race, whenever Shoko came around smelling like you in the slightest bit, Gojo could feel his mind blur and his thoughts instantly run to you.

One time Shoko, who was just as oblivious to this as everyone else at the time, showed the man a video of you and her trying some challenge together. Gojo doesn’t remember the challenge at all or even what either of you was doing in that video but he does remember having his eyes all over you.

He remembers seeing you hug Shoko by the end of the video and the feeling that burned in his heart. Such a deep form of jealousy swirled inside him and he couldn’t understand it. He never cared about Shoko being close to you before but now, it had pained him to watch his friend have the opportunity to feel you– to talk to you.

Something that Gojo told himself he no longer deserved to do. Yeah, he knows it was even more foolish but he felt as though he should be self-punished for his strange actions in regards to you.

Those photos that he printed of you went right into his journal, along with an entry about how he wonders what it’s like to feel your touch. He wonders what holding a full conversation with you would be like. Would you laugh at the things he says? Would you playfully hit him if he utters something ridiculous? Are your hands soft? Would they feel soft wrapped around his cock-

Yet again did Gojo find himself dropping his pencil. Though, he doesn’t know which reason was worse. The fact that he really wrote that question down or the throb he felt in his cock at the mere thought of said question. Gulping, he told himself for the millionth time that he was losing his damn mind.

So much so that he had to push his journal away and really think about what the hell he just asked. He tipped his head back and stared up at the ceiling, letting out a long sigh at himself. He’d lost it, hadn’t he? Thinking about you in such a vulgar way without even knowing what talking to you is like is the very definition of insanity, yes?

No, this is just his obsession. He’s not insane. But hey, maybe the two go hand and hand— maybe there’s no difference between being batshit crazy and obsessing over someone…

Either way, Gojo tries to collect himself, moving to look down at his current state only to find that his cock didn’t just throb, instead the damn thing got hard. The sight was disappointing, to say the least. Gojo stared at the outline of his dick, wondering what the hell is wrong with his body and how the fuck he got hard so damn fast. All he did was think about you…

He moves to part his legs a bit more, trying to comfort himself and deciding he was going to ignore his boner and just return to writing. Though, as he leans up and pulls his journal back toward himself, his cock aches yet again. Gojo lets out a little groan, somewhat scolding himself for being like this.

And then he manages to ignore himself for a bit longer. At least, up until he does nothing more than read your name on his page. His focus narrowed in on the letters of your name, the sound of it echoing throughout his brain before his lips parted and he let out a sound.

His hand shoots up to his face and he covers his mouth, completely confused as to what the hell he’d just done. There was absolutely no way he’d nearly moaned at your name alone. Oh this was… No, he was losing it-, not even, he’d lost it already.

Gojo steadily wiped his mouth, fingers rubbing over his jawline for a moment before he looked down to his crotch. He could now feel how stupidly wet his tip was. Was he in heat or something? How the hell did he get so horny from… reading your name? Thinking about you? Hell, he doesn’t even know where to pinpoint the cause of all this anymore.

Shaking his head, his first thought was that he was in no way going to touch himself to the thought of you. Absolutely not. Fuck no. He may be obsessed but he’s not a… actually, there’s really no word he could use to describe what he’s not right now because he pretty much checks every box for an obsessive pervert.

“Shit,” Gojo huffed, glancing over to his wide-open room door. A second passes, then two, then three before he’s standing to his feet and walking over to the door.

The man glanced out into the hall, finding no signs of Geto anywhere before he shuts his door. Then, he pauses and stares at the lock. He’s not really about to do this, is he?

…

He locks the door and rushes right back over to his seat. Gojo slouches back a little this time and his legs part, his eyes low on his hard cock resting against his thigh and how painfully it was bulging against the fabric of his clothes.

“Fuckin’ hell,” He whispers. There’s no way you’d gotten him this hard…

You and your… everything. The very idea of you made Gojo roll his hips upward, causing faint friction against his clothed cock. Then he shook his head and looked away from himself.

“Nope, I’m not doin’ this shit,” He whispered. He can’t jerk off to some girl he doesn’t even know. He shouldn’t.

It’d be different if you were some pornstar he was infatuated with, then he could jerk off to you and there’d be no issue. But when you’re his friend’s friend… it’d be so weird of him to do so.

Even if you have the prettiest face he’s ever seen. Despite your laugh leaving him in some kind of trance. Ignoring the way your voice sounds. Disregarding how kind you seem from afar. Nevermind the way you walk, the things you wear— and how the first time he saw you, you were in a skin-tight blue dress-

Gojo’s jaw drops a little, “Oh fuck,” His voice is already breathy and his hand has found its way to his aching cock, groping himself through his clothing.

He looks down at himself all over again, body hot and breath unsteady already. He swallows thickly and finally lets out a groan before moving to tug his cock out, watching how it slaps against his abdomen and letting out another heavy breath of air.

Gojo moves his hands to his thighs and just gazes at his cock for a moment, seeing how it twitches so desperately-, desperately for you, and how his tip is leaking with precum already. Hell, it look like he came already, cum leaking down along his dick so lewdly.

What would anyone think if they found him like this…

One of his hands moves to grab his journal and he flips to the page with your pictures on it. He shouldn’t do this. This is wrong-

A whine slips past his lips the second his eyes are met with your face. Then his fingers are wrapping around his shaft and he’s jerking himself off without second thought. “Fuuck,” He moans, tossing his head back with his lower lip beginning to tremble already.

His hand was working the length of his dripping cock furiously, back arching ever so slightly in pure desperation and utter need. Oh how he wished it was your hand here instead of his. Fuck, what would your mouth feel like? Hell, how are you during sex? Are you the submissive type? Would you let him have his way with you? Fuck that pretty mouth of yours like he wishes to?

Or are you the more dominant type? Would you have his legs shaking from sucking him off? You probably would. He can only imagine what your lips would look like wrapped around his cock— already wet with spit and dribbles of his cum. Your face would probably be all messy but you might like that kinda thing, right?

Gojo whines, his eyes flickering and hand not slowing for even so much as a second. Shit, your mouth is probably heavenly but what would your pussy feel like? How wet would you get for him? Would you take him all in one go? Beg him to fuck you faster?

Fuck, would you get on top of him? Take control? Ride him til’ he’s the one begging you to stop? Again, Gojo moans into the air, a few times actually. His wrist rotates as he fists his needy cock, veiny length aching for anything from you.

He wonders if you’d want him to talk you through it. Or if you’d talk him through it. Would you be mean? Nice? Fuck, his thoughts are driving him crazy. In all honesty, he’d consider himself a complete slut for you. He’d do whatever you wanted him to.

Gojo ends up shifting, moving to hunch forward as he grows a bit overwhelmed. “Fuck, fuck-,” He gasps and chokes out a whimper of your name. Would you let him be some little slut for you? Because he would be, with zero hesitation. “Fuck me,” Gojo mumbles, watching as his cock twitches in his hands.

You’d probably praise him, wouldn’t you? Tell him how good he’s doing for you, encourage him to keep going-, or maybe you’d do the exact opposite. Perhaps you would degrade him.

Gojo’s eyes roll back at the mere imagination of you ever degrading him, calling him pathetic for being like this, a slut for shamefully jerking off to you, or even a bitch-

He’s cumming before he even realizes he is, moaning and moaning after the thought of you ever calling him such a thing. He doesn’t even know why that turned him on so much, he’s never been into that kinda thing before but when it’s you, shit… he can’t even control himself.

Messing up his hand, groaning out your name, moving to stand up with shaky legs, and continuing as his cock doesn’t go down. Then Gojo looks at the picture of you again, aligning his cock with the image and stroking himself angrily. He cannot believe himself right now but it’s much too late to care.

The damage is beyond done as he starts moaning again, small whines of fuck leaving his wet lips over and over the more he stares at your picture. Then he’s thrusting his hips into his hand, moving his free hand to grab ahold of the desk in front of him as if to brace himself.

Gojo heaves as he gets himself off. Tears well up in his eyes and he just knows he sounds so stupidly desperate right now, moaning, groaning, whining, and even whimpering for you whilst he fucks his fist. Eventually closing his eyes, he imagines you there with him, mentally illustrating the way your face would twist up every time he thrusts his cock deep inside you.

He could make you feel so fucking good if you ever let him. He’d treat you so well, give you anything and everything under the sun, make sure there’s always a smile on your face, and prioritize your needs over his own at all times.

By that point, he’s chanting your name in mindless little whispers, feeling his balls ache before the tip of his cock spurts out thick and hot ropes of cum— all over that same picture he’d been staring at.

Left panting, Gojo had to deal with the aftermath of his high. His eyes were slow to open and when he realized he came all over one of his pictures of you, he was even more disgusted with himself.

It took him a moment to gather himself after his actions but when he finally does, he cleans the filthy mess he’d made of himself and that damn photo before closing his journal and putting it away— telling himself he’d never do that again.

—---

Although, his little declaration didn’t last very long. A week later and he was jerking off with you in mind yet again. The same guilt and disgust follow afterward and Gojo tells himself he needs something else to put his focus on that’s not you.

Like his job for example; babysitting. What better to put his mind on to distract him from the way his mind, body, and soul crave you so desperately?

With that in mind, Gojo started with his scheduling. As time stood, he had roughly three different kids he babysat on a regular basis, all of which were looked after separately but looked after nonetheless. The first was a girl, whose name was Nobora. She was rather bratty in Gojo’s opinion but he didn’t mind, he liked how having her around reminded him of having that of a little sister.

Then there was Megumi, a child who so clearly hates him but is forced to be around him anyway. That hatred got even worse when the kid broke his leg while on Gojo’s watch— an event in which Gojo will forever find strange because the two were at a park and he swears he looked away for two seconds only to hear screaming moments later by nearby children.

By the time he made it to Megumi, his leg was broken and Gojo was to blame.

Aside from that, the last kid that Gojo found himself watching over sometimes was Itadori Yuji. Now this, this is where things got interesting.

For starters, Gojo never understood why he was hired to watch over Yuji when the kid had a perfectly capable older brother to do so. Then again, he didn’t question it once he saw he got paid quite handsomely for it.

Sometimes Gojo went over to the Itadori residence and others he picked Yuji up. Either way, the number of times Gojo encountered Sukuna was rather slim. They only ever interacted when it was time for payments to be made. Outside of that, Gojo knew little of Sukuna (his school reputation for being a major partier aside).

Any other information he got from the man came from Yuji, who Gojo would randomly question every now and then. Though, Yuji never spoke much about his older brother— only that he’s a bit short-tempered. Given that, Gojo had no reason to think twice about their family or relations at all.

Even when Yuji would appear with a bruise or two, Gojo didn’t put two and two together until it was much too late. The first few bruises, Yuji said he got them from playing around too much and falling, to which Gojo believed since he’d seen how clumsy Yuji could be firsthand.

As such, this went on for weeks and weeks but the day Gojo finally started realizing something was up, was the same day in which he’d finally meet the consequences for his previous actions.

On that day, before Yuji was dropped off to be babysat, Gojo was busy making vows to himself. The first being that he’d finally man up and fucking talk to you. He doesn’t really know what finally came over him but he felt as though it was time. Something, perhaps the universe, told him that after today— he’d grow some balls and hold a genuine conversation with you.

Only a few days ago had he learned from Shoko that you now resided with her so things were going to be rather easy. There was about a week and a half of summer left, giving Gojo some time to not only talk to you but also get to know you firsthand.

His self-revelation came about after he reread every journal entry he had of you, jotting down one final entry of how he planned to talk to you. It was supposed to be casual, he would ask for your number, become friends with you, and go from there based on whether or not you showed any attraction toward him.

With such plans in mind, Gojo thinks it is safe to say that his obsession is finally being tamed. He was getting in control of it after having had such lewd thoughts of you multiple times within the past month and making entries of how he was left feeling in his journal.

That may have been what his last straw was— the whole pervertedness of it all. He was getting weirded out by it himself. Maybe once he started talking to you, his obsession would completely die down. Perhaps the reality of you would help ground him from this fictional high he’s had himself on ever since his obsession was born.

Though, it seems the world finds humor in the suffering of people and Gojo was forced to learn this the hard way.

Of course, as soon as he tells himself he’s gonna clean up his act and do what’s right, his punishment shows up in the form of a person who finds joy in watching others struggle. This person is none other than Sukuna himself, who shows up at the worst time imaginable.

Amid pure stupidity and thoughtlessness, Gojo quickly found himself in a situation in which could not be undone.

—-

After babysitting Yuji for maybe two hours, there was a knock on Gojo’s front door. Yuji sat on the living room couch, watching some cartoons as he swung his feet back and forth. Gojo was in the nearby kitchen, journal in hand before he went to answer the door.

That wonderful journal of his was left sitting on the kitchen counter, right in the open for anyone to see.

That aside, when Gojo opened his front door, he was met with Sukuna. The two barely even greeted one another before the tatted man reminded Gojo it was payment day. The transaction was meant to be done inside so, Gojo allowed Sukuna to enter the apartment.

Yuji hardly glanced over to the two men before Sukuna nodded his head back, silently telling the kid to go ahead and make his way to the car. With no argument, Yuji sighed and grabbed what little of his things before he walked over to the two, briefly said bye to Gojo, and then made his way outside.

Gojo was going to question why Sukuna let the kid go out by himself like that but, he’s made his mistakes of asking too many questions in the past and has suffered the consequences. Not wanting to deal with a mouthy Sukuna, Gojo remained quiet until Yuji was gone.

Phones were pulled out and the two men moved to make that transaction of theirs. Sukuna had strange tendencies and rules, one of them being that Yuji wasn’t allowed to be present for what Sukuna considered adult business. It was something Gojo didn’t understand but, nothing crazy to really bat an eye at.

Just before Sukuna gets ready to send the money to Gojo— something in which he requires Gojo to be present to make sure nothing goes askew, Gojo starts noticeably squirming all over the place.

Sukuna raises a brow, “Fucks wrong with you?”

“Gotta use the bathroom,” Gojo huffs out without moving from where he stands.

The pink-haired man tilts his head, “Then go use the bathroom? I’m not gonna leave without paying you so relax.”

Gojo stands there a mere moment longer, contemplating a few things. The transaction could’ve been done by now but he felt like he was two seconds away from embarrassing himself so he just let out a long sigh before running off to the nearby bathroom. Thus leaving Sukuna standing there alone.

Now, Sukuna doesn’t consider himself to be a nosy person— he could usually care less about what others had going on in their lives unless it affected or entertained him. And where Gojo’s concerned, he honestly did neither at the time. He was just Yuji’s babysitter so Sukuna didn’t see much interesting about the guy.

That was, until he took his time alone to glance around Gojo’s apartment. Sukuna’s eyes wandered, studying the plain attempts at decoration and how utterly unstructured Gojo’s apartment appeared to be. Well, aside from some spots, it was rather clear that two people were living here, one more cleanly than the other.

Even so, Sukuna remained uninterested until he spotted a single book on the nearby kitchen counter. His eyes narrowed and he found himself surprised someone like Gojo would ever pick up a book. Again, the two knew little of one another aside from whatever school reputations they had— Gojo being known as some praying fuckboy and Sukuna being known as some hotheaded party-thrower. One could’ve assumed that the two would get along considering how their interests seem to align.

With that being said, Sukuna found himself walking toward this book without a second thought. The cover was completely blank and he realized it wasn’t a book at all. It was a journal.

Intrigued, Sukuna picks it up and does nothing more than pick a page at random to see if he’d find anything amusing, perhaps something to taunt Gojo with. Y’know, something to get a laugh out of.

The very last thing Sukuna expected to see was a page with a picture of some girl on it in the middle, surrounded by rather… creepy depictions of the woman. Details on the clothing in the picture, how much it cost, where to find it, depictions of where the woman went on that day, whether or not she seemed happy or sad, how many times Gojo heard her laugh-

Sukuna found himself disturbed instantly as he skimmed over the page. Though, not enough to stop him from turning the page. It seemed that such a creepy entry was one of many. Although, the first page he saw was definitely the creepiest. What ended up becoming the cherry on top was when Sukuna read over the fact that Gojo’s never spoken to you.

At that point, Sukuna scoffed, finding Gojo nothing but a fool for writing about a woman in such a way without ever talking to her. With dates, times, etcetera, Gojo had a ridiculous number of entries on this woman, so much so that it actually left Sukuna both curious and… entertained.

So when the sound of Gojo coming out of the bathroom hits Sukuna’s ears, he doesn’t even flinch or attempt to act like he wasn’t looking through the journal. Instead, Gojo walks out of the bathroom and finds Sukuna with the item in his hands.

It was at that very second that Gojo felt his heart sink to his goddamn toes. His eyes went wide and he froze in his steps, Sukuna not even so much as glancing away from the journal in his hands.

Gojo swallowed the overwhelming lump in his throat and attempted to say something-, anything, “What-”

“My my, what a fucking pervert you are,” Sukuna hummed enthusiastically, finally flicking his maroon gaze up to a dumbfounded Gojo. “This is disgusting, really. I mean,” Sukuna glances back down and smiles, “You love this woman and you’ve never even spoken to her?”

All wide-eyed and practically speechless, Gojo fumbles for a way to explain himself, “I-”

“And you fantasize about fucking her quite often,” Sukuna scoffs, tongue seeping out to lick his lips for a moment, “I can see why but shit… You’re a fuckin’ weirdo.”

“You-,” Gojo cocks his head back and blinks, the slightest mention of Sukuna taking interest in your appearance causing him to go right back to that not-so-rational state of his. Blinded by a deep obsession toward you, Gojo is slow with his words, “...You can see why? The hell does that mean-”

“She’s sexy, I get it. I see the lil’ pictures of her you’ve put in here,” Sukuna comments nonchalantly, “And yet, what I don’t get is this uh,” He clicks his tongue and smirks, “Obsession you have with her. Especially without talking to her? That’s…” He trails off for a second, his expression fading into something Gojo can’t quite read.

Gojo gulps and again attempts to defend himself, “I know it’s weird, I… I told myself I’m going to stop-”

“When?” Sukuna interrupts, voice rough, “When you’ve already got her wrapped around your finger and refuse to let her go because of the attachment you’ve created?” He questions the man almost as if he’s speaking from… experience.

“W-What?” Gojo’s brows push together. He never had any intentions of manipulating you in any shape or form, “No, I-”

“Would you tell her how you’ve been stalking her for months-, shit maybe even years based on some of these entries?” The way Sukuna takes a step toward Gojo lets him know that something about this seems to bother the pink-haired man.

“I haven’t been stalking her, I just-”

Sukuna looks down at the open page, “‘I especially liked how happy she looked today, when she smiles, she blinks about five times and when she laughs, it doubles.’ What sane man writes this shit about a woman he’s never spoken to, huh?”

“Sukuna just…” Gojo sucks in a crisp breath of air and attempts to plead with the male in front of him, reaching his hand out for his journal, “Just pretend like you never read that a-and give me the-”

“Aht aht,” Sukuna’s quick to swat his hand away and he nearly laughs at the way Gojo frowns frustratedly, “Did you really think I wouldn’t keep this little gem? Hm? See, you must be a bit confused about how this is about to go.”

For a moment, Gojo just stares. He never imagined this would happen. Hell, he wasn’t exactly careful with his journal but the last thing he expected was for Sukuna to pick the damn thing up. Fuck, he should’ve never left it on the counter.

He lets out a sigh and his voice is small, laced with fear, “...Are you gonna tell her?”

“Am I gonna tell her?” Sukuna simply bursts out laughing, “Ha! What do I look like to you? Some simple-minded fool? No, I’m not gonna tell her.”

Gojo lets out the most thankful sigh of relief, “Thank fuck-”

“You are,” Sukuna states.

And at those words, the room goes silent. So silent that one could hear a pin drop. Gojo felt as though his blood ran cold and Sukuna had this overly smug look on his face.

It was from there on out that Gojo was set to face the consequences of his actions.

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@thvema @uranometrias @gigiipeaches @isawrd @bored--boring

@soonyoung-park @oidloid @you-make-skz-stay @haesify @paintedcans

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@tadabzzzbee @buglikeangell @sukunadckrider @todod0kii @mua-for-now

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@earthytreeswithc @tapinz @attackonjacksons @hovogliadisogni @hoebuns

503 notes · View notes

cheezeybread · 5 months ago

Note

Hello! i do have a request headcannons with the housewardens with g/n reader who is very physical affection, yet they are also very smart on academics. They also loves to take a notes during a lessons so imagine they saw reader who writes a lot that definitely until a whole paragraf (even worse if they ran out of the paper or books, they can be write until the table)

I hope you like the idea if you can't you can ignore it, and i'm sorry for the bad grammar, have a good day! (⌒∇⌒)ノ"

Will do! You have a good day, too! :D

𝙂𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙣𝙚𝙪𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙡 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙞𝙨 𝙥𝙝𝙮𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙖𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙖 𝙨𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙮-𝙥𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨

𝐅𝐭: 𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞, 𝐋𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐚, 𝐀𝐳𝐮𝐥, 𝐊𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐦, 𝐕𝐢𝐥, 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐮𝐬, 𝐈𝐝𝐢𝐚

No, this is not proof-read, I'm lazy, sorry TwT

.・。.・゜✭・.・��・゜・。.

𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒

Oh my goodness, you show him physical affection AND you're studious despite not having any magic to practice on in class? He's so in love it's crazy

He finds it very admirable how you pour your heart and soul into the technical aspects of class...which only serves to make Grim look worse in his eyes (I mean, the little Direbeast is your magic-half and he doesn't even pull his own weight! Grim is single-handedly dropping your grades down with every magical assignment)

Anytime there's a group assignment, you bet your bottom dollar that Riddle's going to convince the teacher to make the two of you partners! You both pull your own weight in the task and always manage to get the highest grades on projects! Plus, he enjoys spending class with you

Although he's not exactly the best with physical affection (words of affirmation are more his own love language because of his STUPID MOM-), he does his best to reciprocate, albeit somewhat awkwardly.

Expect some hand-holding from him in public, because that's all he can work himself up to do, PDA-wise. In class, though, he's more prone to absentmindedly touching you. Hand-holding, for sure, or maybe just resting a hand on your side, nudging you with his elbow to see what sort of notes you're writing down. His attention in class is split between the teacher and you, a fair 50/50

But sometimes it leans more towards 40/60 when you squeeze his hand affectionately.

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐀 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑

A big cat at heart (and physically, lol), Leona's a bit iffy with the physical affection. It mainly depends on the mood you catch him in.

If he's in a particularly gracious mood, he'll allow the physical contact and even give some back, preferring to wrap an arm around you or rest his head on your shoulder

If he's in one of his leave-me-alone kitty phases, he'll allow the touch, of course, but he might be a little less prone to give you any in return. But he'll never say no to you if you want to show him your own way of love

Because of Ruggie, you're now his un-official tutor! I mean, you are his partner, so you might as well help him learn some stuff with all the time you spend around each other, right?

Pretty much how the tutoring sessions go: *y/n, opening their notebook for a class, preparing to read to Leona since he missed that day's lesson* Leona: Wtf y/n: What? Leona: Why do you have so many notes for just one lesson? y/n: Oh, this isn't all of them, actually. Leona:....Why does it say 'Page 1 out of 32'.

Whether he likes it or not, he's gonna learn something from those notes of yours!

Of course, when he does come to class, his attention is always on you throughout the entire lesson.

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐋 𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐎

You're actually his soulmate, he's convinced.

Physical affection? Poor little guy needs all he can get! It helps assure him that 1) You don't find him absolutely repulsive, and 2) That you like him! He's the sort where if you don't give him a kiss upon first seeing him, he'll spiral into a "omg they hate my guts and want me to die now" mindset. Poor fella.

During any lessons the two of you have together, he's found that since you have the better notes out of the two of them, he can look over yours and add to his notes. So expect him to ask to borrow your notebooks after every single class. Or maybe he'll just forgo writing his own notes and copy yours entirely, hm? Nah, he couldn't bring himself to do such a thing-

This man is clingy af

He's always got a hand on you in some way, shape, or form, and always, always finds a way to touch you in passing. Your hanging out with him in the Mostro Lounge? He's leaning up against you, legs crossed. You two are out walking? Arm around your waist. In class? He's got his ankle hooked around yours.

Expect him to constantly ask you if what he's doing is alright or not. He's not well-versed in the relationship-styles of humans, and he knows that merfolk can come off a bit...too much. So he figures that it's better safe than sorry!

He's also totally going to ask you to read over any contracts that he drafts up, asking if you can find any loopholes written in the fine print or not. A second pair of eyes helps out more often than he'd like to admit!

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

𝐊𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐌 𝐀𝐋-𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐌

FINALLY, someone on his level of affection!

PDA? Hell yeah!

Always touching, always hugging, and he gives zero regards to who might be looking when he gives you a lil smooch!

"Oh, yn, you took notes today? You always do, you're such a good student! Can you come back to Scarabia with me and help me out with my classwork? Jamil is busy, and I really want to get better so I can beat him fair and square!" :D

Of course, whenever you go over to help him study, or just to review notes, it ends up in a cuddle-fest.

Are you complaining? You better not!

Every time there's an option to pick partners, you'd best believe he's picking you! Even if somehow he doesn't end up being your partner, he'll congratulate the person who is, telling them how nice and kind you are, and how smart, too!

The world doesn't deserve Kalim, fr fr

But you sure do!

And he'll make sure that you know how much you mean to him, whether it's by an ungodly amount of gifts, compliments to make you all flustered, or even just insisting on hanging around you 24/7!

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

𝐕𝐈𝐋 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐓

Due to his own preoccupation with his looks and such, Vil unfortunately misses some parts of lessons. He'll pull out a small mirror to double-check if his eyeliner is smudged, and bam! Suddenly the teacher is onto the next subject.

Not to worry, though, because he has you!

With a bat of his eyelashes and a few small kisses on the back of your hands, he can convince you to show him your prized notes (of course, you'd be more than willing to give them to him with just a please, but you quite like the effort he puts into it)

In return for you re-reading your notes to him out loud, he'll fidget with your appearance, or simply caress the back of your hands

You two are working in the courtyard? He's running a hand through your hair, braiding it if it's long enough. You're in his dorm reading? He's painting your nails. You're in the library? He's running a hand up and down your arm.

He's more into the low-key physical affection out in public, but who's to say he won't openly kiss you if someone starts trying to hit on you? Or maybe he just feels like a bit of PDA is deserved after all your hard works! Who can tell with that guy!

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐃

Definitely one to gift you with custom-made notebooks.

It started with him watching as you tried to make your handwriting smaller, attempting to fit your last notes onto the veeeeery last page in your journal.

When he got back to his room, Idia found some basic journals that he never got around to using, and he puts stickers on them, quotes, any and everything he thinks that you'd like. It's a sloppy mess, since arts and crafts isn't his strong suit, but it's handmade!

Eventually, though, he'll get frustrated with making the notebooks, and he'll just make some piece of technology that prints spoken words onto a notebook for you, so you don't have to have an aching wrist from writing so much.

God love him, he's trying, A for effort.

On the side of affection, though...he's still getting used to it. If you do ANYTHING in public, he's going to turn into an absolute mess and get all flustered. It's especially bad in class. You accidentally brush your hand up against his and he gives a shriek in response, slamming his head on the table in embarrassment and asking to leave

In private, he's still liable to get flustered, but if you assure him constantly that he's fine, he'll eventually settle down...eventually.

He's determined to get better at physical affection for you, so he's definitely trying...just give him a little bit, and he'll come around.

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐔𝐒 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐀

This is just normal human behavior, is it not?

Most definitely, though, he finds it refreshing to have someone at the school who doesn't fear him and treats him like an equal (although who's to say that there isn't a mutual worshiping going on between the two of you?)

Since you are the Prefect of the Ramshackle Dorm, you are required to attend the Housewarden meetings! On the occasions that Malleus is unreachable and unfindable, you take it upon yourself to write down the notes of the meeting, nearly word-for-word of what transpired. Later on, you'll hunt down Malleus and give him the notes, which in turn you'll receive a kiss as a thank-you.

He truly does appreciate you, in every way, shape, and form. Just so ya know ;)

He'll find old journals around the Diasomnia dorm (either journals that Lilia has and never used, or just ones that were bought for dorm use), and he'll give them to you, seeing as how you make the most use out of them!

And by gosh, these journals are gorgeous! They're rugged and antique-looking, leatherbound, and some of them even have an ancient design burned into the cover. It almost makes you sad to use them, but Malleus is overjoyed when he sees you writing down notes or anything in one of them

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

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a-small-safe-place · 1 year ago

Text

His Haven

Homelander x Psychiatrist!Reader Pt. 1?

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

When Homelander first met you, he just came in because Madelyn cooked up some scheme with Edgar to 'prove' that the members of The Seven were sound of mind and could pass a psychiatric evaluation similar to the one used in the army. Of course, you had been paid a lot of money to do the evaluations and even more money to ensure that these heroes passed no matter what they said. You were a respected psychiatrist in your field; that’s why Madelyn wanted you specifically.

Homelander went to his appointment, planning on leaving until you said something that caught his attention. You said, 'I am here for you. I took this job because you all spend your days helping and saving people, but at the end of the day, who helps and saves you? Obviously, I couldn’t physically save you, but I can be a place for you to talk if you need it. Nothing you say will leave this room.' Boy, did that stroke his ego in all the right ways. He decided to stay. Something about you was comforting, and he wanted to talk, so he started small with the obvious stuff. He led the conversation by making off-handed remarks about being better than everyone and having to be perfect for Vought. It was clear you didn’t understand his pain, but you were listening to him. You were actually listening to him and responding.

You weren’t like Madelyn, who seemed to argue with every other thing he said; you didn’t respond with dismissive and uncaring responses like Queen Maeve, and you could actually keep up with the conversation, unlike The Deep.

Homelander surprised you and himself when he began attending regular scheduled sessions. You usually led the discussion by asking various questions. Some questions he would lie about, not feeling totally safe to dive into certain topics, or he would just dodge the question and change the subject. Homelander knew you noticed this because anytime he did either of those things, your body language would change, and you would write something down in your little notebook. That notebook had made Homelander incredibly nervous until he found out you were not in there calling him a useless pussy. You were just simply writing topics you two had discussed and what topics made him uncomfortable.

You seemed to actually care about Homelander’s feelings, even the bad ones. Stan Edgar put Homelander in his place, and Homelander looked down avoiding Edgar’s pointed gaze like a child being scolded by their father. Homelander needed some reassurance, but he would never admit that willingly. Homelander felt weak and stupid for needing someone, but you didn’t seem to mind even when he was ranting and raving, so he went to you. You had been his haven. The one person he could confide in and actually be himself.

He arrived at your office in the morning while you happened to be filling out some paperwork. He knew you didn’t have any appointments today because this had been previously the day Vought scheduled for the evaluations of the heroes. Homelander spent the whole day pestering you. 'What are we doing now?' He asked, not entirely oblivious to your mild frustration. 'Still just filling out paperwork,' you replied. He rolled his eyes. 'God, your life is so boring. Go to work, talk to the crazies, fill out paperwork and go home, and you do that all alone? I forgot how boring normal people can be.'

You laughed before telling him, 'no one is keeping you here.' Homelander’s jaw tightened. This pissed him off. You’re not supposed to say that. You’re supposed to offer to do something more fun. You seemed to notice that 1,000-yard stare he has as he retreats into his own mind. 'Look, I just mean that I have to finish work. I know it’s probably boring you to death just sitting here; you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,' you told him, which seemed to make him feel a bit better, but he’s not entirely out of his head. 'It’s fine, we can just talk while you work,' he tells you with a feigned smile.

Homelander begins to perk up while you finish your paperwork and finally asks you the million-dollar question, 'What are we doing when we get home?'

'I am going home to cook up some dinner and watch some television,' you told him, trying to hint that you were wanting to be alone. Homelander was undeterred. 'What are we eating? I could use a home-cooked meal. We could watch one of my movies. I’ve been told I’m a great actor.' Homelander needs you to agree and compliment him. He desperately wants you to tell him he does a good job, even if you’re just talking about acting. 'Yeah? Your movies are pretty famous,' you say, accepting your fate that he isn’t leaving you alone tonight.

The night is spent with him at your house. Homelander wastes no time making himself at home and pilfering through your things. He feels comfortable being so ensnared in your scent. He becomes more comfortable as the night carries on. You fix his plate and drink for dinner, and the two of you share a dinner that he perceives as romantic. Your food isn’t as good as the private chefs at Vought, but Homelander loves it because he got to see the love you put into making it just for him.

You two clean up together. It’s really you cleaning, and Homelander helps by talking about which movie of his you should watch tonight. Finally, you try to retire to your room, but he follows. 'I thought we were gonna watch a movie… it doesn’t have to be one of mine,' Homelander tries not to sound too desperate, and he hated to say that last bit.

'I had planned on watching something in my room, but you can come lay with me if you want,' you tell him reluctantly. Homelander is excited but tries to keep that hidden. You two lay down and begin watching one of his movies. By the end, Homelander is 'asleep.' He knows you can’t tell the difference in him and ignores you when you gently shake him trying to wake him. He’s not the biggest fan of sleeping in strange beds, but for you, he can make an exception. Next time, he wants you in his bed though.

#homelander x you #reader x homelander #gender neutral reader #homelander x reader #homelander fanfiction #homelander #the boys fanfic #the boys #the seven #tw: homelander #psychiatrist!reader #psychiatrist x character #fem!reader #male!reader #nonbinary!reader

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heartsforseo · 5 months ago

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Straw hats with a member/ S/o who still sleeps with plushies.

A/n: so I’ve been gone for almost 2 months but shhh I got some motivation now😼😼. PLUS I got this inspo from reading something somewhere. SO TY FOR GIVING ME THE THINGY TO WRITE AGAIN. request=open requested: <yes> <no> wc:970 ft: the straw hats (excluding chopper) warning: ??

⭑Luffy honestly wouldn’t care. If he ever crashes into your room (girls' room) and sleeps on your bed, he’d even shove the stuff toys away.

⭑When he sees your pouting/sad face he’d be clueless and continue whining for you to hop on the bed with him.

⭑When you finally told him why you were mad, he just tilted his head and let out a LONG sigh

⭑Would use his gum-gum abilities and get all your stuffy back in the bed (while groaning. He does NOT want to share)

⭑Speaking of sharing, why coddle a plushie when you have Luffy? Would def get jealous and maybe even tear one of them.

⭑P.s. He did…

⭑Zoro, just like Luffy, couldn’t be bothered. He’d probably think of it as a design at first. I mean, a pirate sleeping with plushies??? That’s rare

⭑But as the creator said, everyone in the crew is a weird person. So, here you are—in your room. Shock and in awe.

⭑Believe it or not, Zoro was sleeping with one of your plushies (that looked like a reindeer…)

⭑He had always denied sleeping next/with them. (Only if you convinced him enough, he’d let out a groan but still follow)

⭑You’d have to tease him about it now. I mean, Zoro sleeping before you??? Shocking with that 3 hrs sleep schedule.

⭑And a certain chef might’ve heard what you’ve said and used it against a certain swordsman…

⭑Nami, would even tax the poor plushies:~((

⭑Jokes aside, she’ll think of it as cute and nice decorations. They’re cuddly, colorful, and good for distress.

⭑But sometimes there’s a limit. She couldn’t even sleep on her OWN bed cuz of how many you got.

⭑Would roll her eyes when she saw you pout and give you a 35% discount.

⭑To help you get “rid” (as she says) of plushies, she’ll take a mini tangerine and place it on her work desk.

⭑Now she talks to it after dinner, drawing the map of the world.

⭑Ussop I’d say would make a story about how he once traveled to a stuffed toy island.

⭑Everything there was colorful, soft, and cuddly! He’d even point at one of your plushies and say he met them on the island!

⭑Your plushie would just stare and stare and stare… Until Ussop had to let out a fake cough and do his other stuff.

⭑He’d ask for your permission to get one of your plushies for support. (You said yes ofc).

⭑Now, whenever he has to modify Nami’s weapon/ whenever he’s alone from the group—he’ll hold the small plushie tightly and hug it, waiting for ideas to pop up.

⭑Sanji the beigest of them all. I could see Sanji:

⭑1) getting jealous about it. You have a whole husband in front of you. And you’re picking the plushie to cuddle…THAN HIM?!

⭑Would give the plushie dirty stares (especially if it was given by someone not him/by his crew)

⭑When you’re doing something else, he’d wrap his arms around your waist and rest his head on your neck.

⭑He’d give the plushie a smirk and laugh a bit. (Nurse gising na po sya)

⭑OR

⭑2) Sanji would write that down in his “All about Y/n!” Notebook and put hearts all over it.

⭑He would give you plushies, and on every island you visit, he insists on getting you at least one stuffed animal.

⭑Would even sculpt one of his foods as your plushie.

⭑Plus he’d get all giddy iddy when he sees you coddling the plushie he bought. It’s really satisfying to see when the person you love appreciates what they give you.

⭑Robin would let out a smile and maybe even tease you (when she's feeling it)

⭑Might get jealous when you're spending more of your time with them. She's your crew member and s/o, you should focus on her!

⭑She once woke up with your back in front of her, and you were cuddling your plushie.

⭑Sad to say you couldn't find your stuffies for a week… :(

⭑But Robin was there for you!

⭑In the end, it was a win-win situation!

⭑FRANKY FOUND IT CUTE CUTE CUTE.

⭑While you were worrying about how he'll react (unknowingly to you, he already found out and named one of them cola jr.) Franky already made a small plushie (robot) that does the SUPEERRRRRRR with him.

⭑When he saw you sad that one of your plushies got teared up, he'd secretly take it and repatch it (w/h metal scraps)

⭑Would sweat when you confronted him about it, and even DENY IT.

⭑"Franky you're the only one I know that'd use metal scraps for repair…"

⭑"Oh."

⭑Brook is a cutie patootie.

⭑He already knows what you like, from the panties you wear to the plushies you like!

⭑Would make one of those and have some delightful little tea parties. If you're too occupied to join in, why not let your mini-version take part instead?

⭑Anyways, if you'd ever show him a soul king merch/plushie. HE'D FLY OVER THE MOONN.

⭑He didn't know they were selling those! Especially when the cane he has can be removed and shown as a knife.

⭑Our good boy Jinbe.

⭑While on his trip, he saw a lot of them. But of course wouldn't bother to buy one.

⭑I mean, you're on a business trip for sake. And a pirate should always be ready and need no time for aesthetics.

⭑Well, that's what he thought BEFORE he met you. When he saw your room he was SHOOK

⭑How did you have time for all of this? How were you gonna sleep? How will you keep them clean?

⭑Many thoughts were roaming in his head. But when he saw your adoring smile, he made up his mind and would do anything to make you happy.

⭑Even keeping your plushies clean.

A/n: I hope you all enjoyed it. nd sorry for the almost 2-month break.

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bellarkeselection · 11 months ago

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Hiii!! I saw that you wrote for Georgie Cooper from you Sheldon and I was wondering if you would write for him again 😊 Can I get Georgie with a latina gf that loves to cook, whenever she goes over to his house she's always bringing food from her culture (I'm Mexican so Mexican food ofc) .

Culture Cooking

I am not Latina so I hope I wrote this correctly 🤗 and a very short request in my opinion but I hope you still enjoy

Coming out of Missy’s room that used to be Georgie’s old bedroom, I had decided to get up early and make the family breakfast. I had stayed the night after my date with her older brother, and we didn’t get back till really late, so she said I could sleep over in her room. Walking down the small hallway and into the kitchen, I got lost in thought, thinking of the ingredients that I needed. I have been bringing over some spices and stuff when I would come over here. I loved cooking for Georgie, and he always seemed to enjoy my family's food. “Hey…uh what are you doing up this early?”

Whipping my head around away from the stove I saw Georgie stumbling his way into the kitchen. “Oh hey. I thought I’d make the family my kind of breakfast.”

“Sweet.” He smiled sitting down at the table watching me go back to cooking. My family had moved to Texas after my father got a new job here being the assistant principal.

One day after I was leaving from English class I had been walking down the hallway and accidentally bumped into Georgie. All of our notebooks went flying and that’s how we met basically. Turning the oven off I put the whole meal together on a plate and slid it across the table to him. “I present to you one of my families favorite things to eat for breakfast.”

“Woah this smells really good.” Georgie gave me praise picking up his fork and dove right in. He took a big bite making the same noise he does whenever his Meemaw makes brisket for dinner that he loves.

Georgie stared at me with a mouth full of food. “So what’s in this?”

“Let’s see it’s a fried tortilla topped with salsa. And there’s eggs, pulled chicken, cream cheese and bean included inside it too.” I chuckled sitting down and taking some bites out of the one I had made for myself with him.

Georgie took a few minutes to finish his food wiping some sauce that was left on his plate. I bite my lip trying not to laugh at seeing some cream in his hair where I moved one hand up wiping it away. “Awe dang it! I guess you are a really good cook if I get it in my hair.” He chuckled back at me.

“Yeah suppose so.” I responded moving our plates off the table hearing someone else entering the kitchen seeing it was Missy.

She squealed hugging me by the waist. “Hi Y/n. What did you make for breakfast?”

“She made a fried tortilla.” Her older brother said forking some more from the pan onto his plate.

Missy gave me a confused look. “A fried tortilla?”

“Yes but it’s actually called Chilaquiles.” I told her before she sat down and I made her a plate of her own.

Georgie finished his second plate putting his plate up in the sink then came over to me. He wrapped his arms around my waist bringing me closer to his chest with that same cheeky grin. “Even if I can’t pronounce your food half the time. You’re still a really good cook. Everybody in the family enjoys it. So thank you for this and all the other meals.”

“You’re welcome, Georgie. I always love cooking for y’all.” Draping my arms over his shoulders I grinned up at him kissing him slowly where he tightened his hands around me deepening the kiss.

He moved one hand into my hair and the other on my waist. We we’re getting caught up in the kiss that we almost wound have gone further if it wasn’t for his sister being in the kitchen with us. “Eww. If I knew you two were going to kiss after you ate I would have eaten my breakfast in front of the tv.” Missy made a look of discomfort.

“Awe I’m sorry Missy. I can’t help if he’s a good kisser and likes my food at the same time.” I shrugged my shoulders with him draping an arm over my shoulder so I laid my head on his shoulder since he was slightly taller than I was.

Georgie looped our hands together sending me a smirk. “Best of both words, my darling. You’re pretty awesome Y/n.”

“Stop being cute or I’m gonna barf my food.” She whined at us with her tounge sticking out.

I gasped remembering that their parents were already at work for the day so that left Sheldon in our care. Snapping my fingers at Missy I questioned his twin sister worried he needed to eat. “Missy, go tell your brother that I made breakfast.”

“Sheldon, Y/n made breakfast!” She spun around in her seat hollering towards their bedroom causing me and her older brother to start cracking up in laughter. Squeezing Georgie’s hand in mine I always enjoyed anytime I got to cook for this family.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

#georgie cooper imagine #georgie cooper x reader #montana jordan #georgie cooper #the big bang theory #young sheldon #young sheldon imagine #young sheldon x reader #x reader #mexican #mexican food #ask box is open for anything #comments really appreciated #latina #latina reader #chilaquiles

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roanniom · 1 year ago

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King Steve flirting with inexperienced never been flirted with reader

Smartest

King!Steve Harrington x tutor!fem!reader

Read Part 2

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, PIV/unprotected sex, teasing, coercion but consensual, King!Steve is a manipulative douchebag and is his own warning

“You’re really good at this stuff,” Steve says, watching for your reaction as you scribble math equations across the notebook paper. He can see embarrassment bloom across your features and he has to suppress the zing of triumph he feels. It’s so easy.

It makes him want to push it.

“It’s kinda hot.”

The pencil stops in its path and your eyes shoot up to his, brow raised.

“I’m not…that’s…you’re messing with me, Harrington,” you finally settle on in what you hope is a dismissive tone. Steve notes the way your hand writing becomes more shaky. He sucks on his teeth for a second before chuckling.

“I don’t know why you’re trying to be modest. Hot girl like you must be raking in the compliments.”

You shake your head but don’t look up from your work. Well…his work. The homework that you’re doing for him even though you were supposed to be tutoring him so he doesn’t fail algebra and miss out on basketball.

But his hand is suddenly on your knee.

“Look at you ignoring me. What, you tutor a football player that’s stealing all your attention? Nothing left for me?”

“I…I don’t tutor the football team,” you answer, dumb in spite of your high IQ. You look up and Steve’s grin is big, glad he could finally distract you. He’d gotten bored with the repetition of watching you do his homework. He’s got nothing else lined up today, might as well have some fun. It’s not like his parents are home and it’s a shame to waste a big empty house.

“Thought I was your favorite pupil,” Steve says in a mock whine, giving you puppy dog eyes that seem to short circuit your brain.

Bingo.

You can do his homework later.

“Y-you are,” you admit shyly. It makes Steve smile at you again and your heart bursts, the shriveled up crush you’ve been nursing for years finally being watered and rehydrated. You can hear your heart beat in your ears.

“Good. Because you’re my favorite hot tutor,” Steve says with a wink. You swallow visibly at that and Steve laughs. “You’re still acting like nobody’s ever called you hot before and I call bullshit.”

“No….nobody’s ever called me hot before,” you say in a small voice. Steve’s eyes widen for a second. He’d been pressing on that point, not really thinking too hard about whether or not it could be true. It was just mindless flirting. And pretty lazy flirting, to be honest.

He takes the space of a second to wonder if he feels bad about your clear inexperience and insecurity. Instead, he feels a dark, sour tinge of excitement. Your obvious interest is an opportunity. He doesn’t take any time to analyze whether he should be ashamed of that thought.

“Do you like it when I call you hot?” Steve asks. It’s not a question. Not really. Not when he knows the answer is yes. But he’s angling for something as his hand slides up from your knee to your thigh. You drop the pencil fully and give your attention completely to him.

“Y-yeah. I do.”

“Do you like it when I do…this?” Steve ask, lifting your arm and delivering a kiss to the inside crook of your elbow. You squirm but a smile starts forming on your face.

“Yeah.”

“And this?” Steve asks, moving up to kiss your bare shoulder, just beside the spaghetti strap of your sun dress.

“Uhuh.”

Steve moves to the edge of his seat so that his knee moves between your thighs under your skirt. You squeak a bit at the new proximity. One of Steve’s large hands grips your waist, pulling you to him so he can mouth at the side of your neck.

“What about this?”

The feeling of his lips on your skin lights you on fire and you find it hard to keep responding.

“Oh…” Your thighs try to close, a sudden twinge of need at their apex urging you to seek out friction. You end up squeezing your legs around his knee which has pushed between them. Steve pulls back and smirks.

"Oh," he teases. He slides his hand over the slope of your hip, to your stomach and down to your lower abdomen over the fabric of your skirt. Steve’s heavy lidded eyes find yours. “You seemed to really like that, huh?”

“I….I….” you stammer, unsure of what to do with your hands so you drop them to rest shakily on his forearms. Steve leans forward again, dropping his wet open mouth to the curve of your neck and sucking.

“Oh…fuck,” you whimper broke my. Steve chuckles against your spit-slicked skin.

“How am I supposed to learn from you if you’re going to set a bad example like that?” he asks wryly. You blink at him, watching as his hands move to the buttons at the neckline of your sun dress. Your chest rises and falls more rapidly as your breathing speeds up, both with arousal and anticipation.

Steve undoes the top button with deft fingers. Instead of shrinking away, you arch your back almost imperceptibly towards his hands. Steve definitely notices.

“Ohhhh,” he says teasingly. “Or does the tutor want to learn a thing or two from the student?” His voice is lilting and light, but his eyes are dark. You look away for a second before looking back at him. Eyes the tentative. Nod small. Steve nods back along with you. “Okay then. We’ll first of all, we have to have the right workspace, don’t we?”

When you nod, Steve surprises you by standing up and swiping all the books, papers, and writing utensils off the dining room table and onto the ground in one broad sweep of his arm.

“Steve!” you squeal out in surprise, slapping a hand over your mouth. You know his parents are out of town and the two of you are alone, but when he grabs you and manhandled you to sit on the table, you suppress the startled shriek that tries to come out. Steve pulls you to the edge of the table and bullies his way between your legs, your thighs bracketing his hips. Steve’s hands return to the buttons of your dress.

“Then we have to gather the right materials. See what we’re working with, right?” He pauses, looking at you for confirmation as if you have any idea what he’s saying. You nod mindlessly and Steve proceeds to rip open the last few buttons, exposing your bra clad breasts. He hums in satisfaction as you cringe in embarrassment over the exposure. But all embarrassment leaves you when his big hands close over your breasts, squeezing and groping appreciatively.

“Mmmm yeah. These’ll do,” Steve hums before leaning in and kissing over where they swell out of their cups from the squeeze of his strong hands. You gasp when he yanks the bra down to expose them fully. Steve’s brows life. “These tits’ll definitely do.”

Next thing you know, Steve is kissing and sucking his way from one breast to the other, leaving you a twitching mess in his arms. You feel a hardness press into your apex beneath the skirt of your dress and it occurs to you that he’s turned on just like you are. Which is a stupid thought since he’s literally sucking hickeys all over you right now, but your lust addled mind can still barely comprehend that this is happening right now.

When you begin rolling your hips into that hardness, Steve takes notice.

Pulling back, lips wet, he grins at you.

“Me playing with these tits not enough for you?” he asks, one hand still fondling your breast. Lucky for you, he doesn’t seem interested in a reply. Instead he flips your skirt up, showing the dark wet patch that’s bloomed in your panties and - more importantly - the erection clear in his tight jeans. “That’s alright. It’s not enough for me either.”

You blink slowly as you watch him grind his hard on against your clothed pussy. The friction catches on your clit and you gasp, unable to take your eyes off the outline of the shape pressing against you. Steve takes your hand and brings it down between your bodies, squeezing to make you grip his cock.

“Feel that? You did this to me,” he says, almost accusatory if not for the chuckle. A possessive thrill of pride runs down your spine and you squeeze at him, making him grunt in appreciation. Steve looks up at you from beneath his lashes in a faux display of boyishness. “Gonna help me out here?”

You nod feverishly.

“Yes…I…please–,” is all you manage to get out before Steve’s mouth is on you. The kiss is deep and possessive and aggressive and you feel absolutely devoured. His hands feel like they are everywhere at once, paradoxically, as he pulls at you and grips you and grabs you. So distracted see you by his mouth and tongue that you barely register a moment of cold air hitting between your legs before the warm slide of something hot and thick rubs against your opening.

“Now for the big lesson,” Steve says, the corner of his mouth curving lasciviously. The fat head of his cock teases at your clit, making you sink your nails into his arms. He’s big. Huge even. And that’s the last thought you have before he’s begin to slide himself inside you, splitting you open.

“Steve!” It comes out in a rush with all the air he punches out of you with the penetration. Steve kisses your neck and hums.

“That’s it, baby. That’s it.”

He bottoms out and there’s nothing but your ragged breaths to fill the silence for a moment before he’s pulling out, causing you to reel again.

“I know it’s big, baby, I know,” he coos. The taunting cockiness should put you off, but for some reason it heats you up even more. One his hands finds your clit and you let out a moan at the expert circles he begins to rub in.

Your walls relax with the stimulation, and your increasing wetness makes it easy for Steve to begin fucking you in earnest.

“Taking it so well, baby. Fuck.”

His words ring in your ears and it feels like everything begins and ends with Steve in your line of sight.

“Oh…oh…” you moan with each inward stroke. You’re rocketing towards a climax better than your most lavish fantasies.

Steve Harrington is fucking you. On his dining room table.

Your arms are around his neck, but eventually he pushes you down so your back is flat against the wooden surface. With his hands on your hips, Steve holds you steady so he can piston his hips at a break neck speed. Your entire body rocks against the table, Steve’s eyes focused on the bounce of your breasts with the force of each thrust.

“This is so much better than homework, fuck!” he groans out. You let out a breathless laugh at that and Steve looks down at you. “This is what you wanted, right? For me to fuck you all this time?”

The embarrassment surges up again but he hits a spot deep down inside that makes you whine instead. Steve takes it as confirmation.

“Bet you’ve been wet every time you’ve come over here. Just hoping I’d fuck this - fuck. This tight little pussy.”

“Yes. Yes, Steve.”

“Yes, Steve,” Steve mimics your pathetic, breathy confession. He’s close himself now, and his fingers are sure to leave bruises from the force of him squeezing you. “Next time I should just bend you over while you’re doing my work and fuck you. How’s that sound?”

You don’t say anything, too far gone at this point, and Steve laughs.

“Probably wouldn’t be able to keep doing my work with my cock in you. Makes you too brainless apparently.”

You’re practically drooling as you gaze up at him with hazy eyes, seconds from your orgasm. You being so out of it is what’s doing it most for Steve.

“Christ, look at you. Smartest girl in school and here you are, fucked stupid. It’s so. Fucking. Hot.”

And you - someone who until today had never been called hot ever - find yourself breaking into a million pieces with his words. Your orgasm crashes over you and you spasm around him, back arching off the table as you let out a massive cry.

~*~

Over time you are able to build up to a point where you don’t go as brainless. Eventually you’re able to kind of still do his homework as Steve fucks you.

But inevitably during every tutoring session there comes a point where Steve hits that place inside you just right, and his filthy words filter into your ear - and you go dumb.

Just the way he likes it.

~*~

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Hope you enjoyed! Please reblog and comment to let me know!

Read Part 2

#steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington smut #king!steve harrington #king!steve harrington smut #king!steve harrington x reader

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strwberri-milk · 12 days ago

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Hellooo 🎀 I love love love reading ur works they bring me so much joy 💕 I was wondering if u could do the boy’s reaction to an mc whom loves to collect trinkets that remind her of them? I read your rules and didn’t see anything against this, but if it is I’m so sorry <3 (sorry for the terrible language, English isn’t my main language!)

thank you for reading the rules!! and this is so me

Zayne doesn't expect you to dump out a small bag of your things on the bed when you come home from your trip. He knew that you said you were picking up souvenirs but this amount of them surprises him a little.

When you tell him that these are all the things that you picked up he gets confused. Sure he'd asked if you could grab a thing or two while on your trip if you saw them but he wasn't asking for anything like what you ended up showing him. You laugh it off, telling him that you'd already put away the stuff he asked for.

When you finally tell him that this was all stuff you bought for him he's incredibly flattered. He doesn't show it blatantly on his face but you can tell he likes the things you picked out with the way he handles them so delicately. He finds space for them in his office - both at work and at home - as a reminder of your love for him.

Xavier didn't realise how many things you'd collected for him until he runs out of room to put down the newest trinket you got him. He stares at them all, asking you why you keep bringing him things.

You end up shyly admitting that every time you see something that reminds you of him you can't help but pick it up to add to his collection. They all have some sort of theme and he has to admit that you've always grabbed things that he ends up liking.

He tries to do the same for you but sometimes it doesn't quite work out the way he intended. Sometimes you have no idea why he's giving you what he is but he justifies it by saying he thought of you, then saw it so it works. You don't mind though - you know he's genuinely trying.

Rafayel does the same thing! The two of you have your own little cabinet displays of trinkets the two of you pick up for each other. Each thing has their own story and much to Rafayel's credit, he does somehow manage to remember all of them without too much issue.

Unbeknownst to you though he does actually remember everything he keeps a physical record. He's got a notebook (one of many) dedicated to you where he draws the trinket in question and writes a note with where and how he found it, as well as why it reminds him of you.

He treats everything you give him as though it's the most precious thing known to man because to him, it really is. Everything you give him is something he loves because it made you think of him. He wants to occupy your every thought and having these physical tokens soothes his soul.

Sylus returns your trinkets with three more that he finds for you. It's almost like a competition - one you'll sorely lose because he's got way more connections than you do. Regardless, he'll still take everything you give him happily and without hesitation, thanking you for thinking of him.

You just happen to occupy a lot of his mind so it's also very easy for him to find trinkets for you. Now you two just end up doing show and tell with the objects you find for each other. He tends to shower you in gifts though so this is definitely right up his alley, even if it's not done quite in the same manner.

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

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lovelykil · 6 months ago

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small scenario.....

ᯓ izuku midoriya

note; I'm SLEEPY :(

izuku rambles without a thought, he seems to go into his own world completely unreachable till he finishes. You've experienced this firsthand when you were trying to nap.

after a long day of training and school work, you were exhausted and just wanted a peaceful slumber. So there you rested your chin on top of his head with your arms wrapped around his neck. He was so warm and you wanted to hold him against your cold body.

plus he had a sweet scent you just couldn't get enough of, maybe he used a different shampoo this time around. Whatever the fact you stuffed your face into his uniquely colored hair and fluttered your eyes shut.

a few seconds pass and you hear a mumble, it wasn't loud enough that it disturbed you so you ignored it. You remain still, trying to find la la land till you heard it again.

mumble... mumble...

your eyes open slowly then shut again.

ramble ramble... quirk.. ramble

your eyes shot open again, your sleeping was disturbed.

you lift your head and look over his shoulder, he was writing and talking to himself. You knew he always did this but you never experienced it one on one with him.

in a way it was cute, you always adored this 'flaw' of his but you were tired, drained even.

you sigh softly after a few hesitating seconds, placing yourself back in your spot.

"what are you rambling about now izu?" You say, with weariness in your voice. You begin to rub his shoulder slowly with one hand.

izuku responds quickly, at first he was a little quiet still in thought but progressively grew a little louder as he spoke with passion.

"well because of their quirk they are able to— and it's really cool cause then when they are fighting villains they can— which is very useful because —"

"ah, really? That's nice... yes..." You tiredly respond with a lazy smile. Your eyes start to close on their own as he continues to ramble, you try to keep them open but you eventually give up after a few minutes. Your hand returned around his neck once again and you stuff your face into his hair.

you inhale his scent one last time before mumbling something.

"izu, you're so... cute.." just seconds after you mumbled that out izuku shuts up. His cheeks grow warm, apparently, your mumble wasn't so quiet he heard you.

though you weren't trying to be hush, you were just sleepy. He doesn't say anything after that but he does smile to himself and continues to scribble in his notebook with his back against you and your arms wrapped around him.

you've successfully shut him up.

#𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘺𝘬𝘪𝘭 ᯓ★#boku no hero academia #mha x reader #mha #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku x reader #izuku midoriya #ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

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1d1195 · 4 months ago

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Most I

Read Most here | ~3.9k words

From me: I've been watching sad Instagram reels to feel something so I wanted to just write those feelings out.

Warnings: angsty af. Like you're gonna be sad in this part. It's only some fluff and a lot of love, but it's a lot of angst. Just like an absolute ton of it. Also you're supposed to envision Harry as a firefighter so you have to deal with that at the same time.

Summary: She was his soulmate when he didn’t believe in them. He was the love of her life–the one she planned to write about. But was soulmates going to be enough?

“Hi baby,” her giggle was infectious. The kind of laugh that sounded like music and felt like sunshine. He didn’t even need to see her to know there was a smile on her face. The very same smile that had been his favorite one to see since they were young. Only recently did it turn into the one that he loved so much. Well, at least he could admit how much he loved it openly. It made his own smile appear; just knowing when he turned around, he was going to see those pretty lips, her straight teeth (although when he envisioned it, he still remembered it before she had braces; teeth just slightly crooked at the cutest angle—but he would never tell her that). The word baby was for him. She was in his heart. So completely, so wholly. He loved the way the word baby sounded in her voice. How it left her smiling lips. He had dreamed about it for ages. Since he was old enough to name that she really was his crush.

But in the end, he didn’t even have to tell her he liked the name baby. It was just the one she chose.

Like she knew that’s what he wanted.

“Hey kitten,” he chuckled, smiling over his shoulder as she approached. She wrapped her arms around his waist from behind. She nuzzled her face against his back. His shirt smelled so intoxicatingly good—like him. He was warm, perfect. He continued his conversation with Niall. Resting his hand on top of hers, settled on the front of his stomach, right above his belt. She stayed glued to him. Niall hardly paid any attention to her. Not in a mean way, of course; no, she was simply there because she was supposed to be. She was a permanent fixture—no, an extension of Harry’s body. When she wasn’t around, it was the first thing anyone asked. Where was she? Was she okay? She liked to be thought of as a package deal. Even her mom, for all her faults, always wondered where Harry was when he wasn’t there. It was like he was the oxygen in the air and when he wasn’t around it was hard for her to breathe.

She loved Harry. She was so in love with him, she thought you could take a sample of her blood and find love for him in the cells at a molecular level. Loved him beyond description. She didn’t think it was possible to love someone that much until she did. It was the stuff of dreams and romance novels. Every time he looked at her, she was overcome with the feeling like he never wanted to stop looking at her.

Harry truly was in love with her. Astronomically in love with her. He thought he would need to create a new unit of measurement just to explain how vast and deeply he loved her. But there wasn’t any justice for it. He simply loved her. Like his life depended on it. He loved her more than he could describe. More than anyone could ever really witness.

He encouraged all her dreams and ambitions throughout the years. When she wanted to be an astronaut he stayed up until three in the morning researching workout routines for them to practice in his backyard so he could help train her for a life on the space station. The week she wanted to be a baker was spent experimenting with flour and sugar. Failing miserably when they set the smoke alarm off so many times that his mum insisted that they take a break.

But it was her writing that he encouraged more than anything else.

He didn’t care what she chose to write. He read it all. Essays, articles, love stories, a grocery list turned into poetry when it came from her pen. He bought her notebooks upon notebooks for birthdays and Christmases. When she was feeling upset, he never brought her flowers; a new pen and notebook, that was all she needed.

People who didn’t know them well, said they were crazy. Falling in love at a young age like that. It wasn’t a good idea. Harry was going to leave for college a year before her and it seemed doomed before it started. But to her it didn’t matter. Because each of those notebooks that Harry never opened without her permission, never strayed from the page she let him read, all were inscribed on the inside front cover with a heart she had drawn and written their two names inside. Like she was going to write their very future into existence.

Yes, Harry loved her, but it was more than that. There wasn’t anyone sweeter. No one was prettier—inside or out. Her kindness was so touching he couldn’t believe someone like her was in love with him some days. It seemed unfair. If there was a perfect person, it was Harry. She was sure.

Harry didn’t believe in soulmates. But whatever she was and how she fit into his life, he was certain it was as close to a soulmate as he would ever get.

So finally, when Harry was finally exhausted from waiting, the day before his last year of school started—before he would be going off and applying to universities, he needed her to know. “You know I’m in love with you, right?” He asked, point-blank.

She smiled.

That gorgeous, perfect smile that melted him right to his core.

“Yes,” she whispered, and she opened one of the notebooks that were stacked beside her bed, all the ones from over the years that she had hidden exactly what she wanted on the inside front cover. “I know.”

Harry saw the hearts, their names.

She was his soulmate. Whether he liked it or not.

So, when they held hands in the school hallways, went to astronomy class together, and sat so close to one another at lunch and in study hall, no one really paid any mind to them. It seemed like most everyone already thought they were a couple, so their adorableness didn’t change how anyone perceived one another. No one noticed how in love Harry was with her because it seemed like nothing had changed at all.

No one cared that she loved Harry with every piece of her heart. Every part of her mind and soul because it seemed like she always had.

Well.

Almost everyone.

Their love wasn’t without fault. Harry worried about the future, if she would grow tired of him because he wanted nothing more than to live in this town of theirs, the place where he met the love of his life and take care of it in thanks for bringing her to him.

“I can write from anywhere, Harry,” she reminded him. “Actually, I would go nowhere to be with you,” she smiled. It was corny. A poem she would probably jot down later before she fell asleep.

“Y’would go nowhere,” he repeated. That dimpled smile of his made her heartbeat twice as fast. His hands slid around her waist. It nearly made her shiver even though it wasn’t the first time he touched her, and it wouldn’t be the last.

She nodded; her hands linked behind his neck. His forehead pressed to hers and he brushed the tip of his nose against hers. His mouth felt like a magnet, and he was going to draw her in whether she wanted to be drawn in or not (but she did—oh, did she want). “Nowhere with you seems like heaven.”

“When y’write your first poetry book, are y’gonna dedicate it to me?”

She nodded. “Absolutely.”

“Yeah? Y’really gonna dedicate it t’nobody?”

“You’re not a nobody,” she rolled her eyes.

“M’not going anywhere. M’jus’ a nobody from nowhere.”

“Harry,” she giggled. “You’re not a nobody... this isn’t nowhere. You’re... everywhere. And you’ll always be my somebody,” she promised.

Her lips were touching his. Not quite kissing, but as she nodded, they brushed in a half-kiss that she didn’t have enough words to adequately describe the feeling and how it would put any full kiss written by any other author to shame. “Think I want t’have your body all t’myself,” he pulled her closer, somehow. His body was so warm and when he smiled, his mouth curved upwards made her lips follow his. She couldn’t take it a moment longer. She sank into the kiss, feeling like the oxygen was almost too pure for her. Leaving her breathless but wanting more of it all the same.

He was her first kiss, her first poem, her first love, and her first everything. There wasn’t an inch of skin that hadn’t been touched by him. So really, the poems, the stories, the writing came naturally. Harry was her muse. There was nothing else to do but write.

But her own insecurities in her writing abilities and her appearance made her nervous that she would hold Harry back.

Harry wanted to be a firefighter for their sweet little town; and she wasn’t oblivious, he had the body for it. She joked with him that he was going to sell thousands of dollars’ worth of calendars when the time came. “Are y’going t’be the one buying thousands of dollars’ worth of calendars?” He chuckled.

“Obviously,” she rolled her eyes. He kissed every inch of her face until she giggled more and more.

“Kitten?” he whispered.

“Yes?”

“M’gonna buy thousands of dollars’ worth of y’books.”

“With my calendar money?”

He tickled her until she squealed.

Harry was beautiful. More beautiful than she felt on most days, and it pained her sometimes to look in the mirror. But it always seemed like Harry knew when those days hit her hardest. “Do y’know you are the most beautiful person I know?” He whispered to her, as if it were a secret. But he would have shouted it from the rooftops. He showed all their friends the pictures he had taken of her and put them in their group chat and reminded them to tell her how pretty she looked. It made her giggle and shy from the attention. He would brush his fingers along her cheek, “So, so pretty,” he reminded her. “Should be illegal t’look at you for this long. Hogging all your beauty t’myself.”

But they always reassured one another that this was it. She was his soulmate—even when he didn’t believe in them. He was the love of her life—the one she planned to write about until she couldn’t physically write anymore.

It helped that people like Eleanor, Louis, Niall, Sarah, and Mitch, all assured her too that no one loved anyone as much as Harry loved her. Everyone loved them together. It wasn’t close to the amount they loved each other, but it was a good amount—one that suggested everyone knew they were meant for each other.

Almost everyone.

Lauren was the same year as she was. She was popular, smart, insanely beautiful. In another dimension, she was sure Harry was meant to be with Lauren. But they were a good pair. Lauren was kind and almost always worked with her on school projects. Arguably one of her closest friends outside her main group of friends she shared with Harry.

When they were out and about, Harry watched out for the girls in the group nearly as much as he watched out for the girl that made his heart stutter. He kept spare hair ties around his wrist for when drinking at parties got to be too much and he worried their hair would fall into the toilet. “Harry, can you come get Lo and I?” She asked once Harry picked up at the other end. It was Harry’s least favorite kind of call. The kind he knew Lauren had dragged her to a party that was too much. It made his heartbeat faster, worried beyond belief until he saw that sweet smile holding her friend’s hair back as she threw up in the bushes. “Can you help me get her into bed?” Of course he would. He would do anything she asked.

Harry noticed the way Lauren’s grip tightened around his neck as he held her and carefully placed her into bed. Out of the kindness of his heart, he ignored it. For Lauren’s sake, for his sake, and of course the sake of the pretty girl whose concern for her friend grew as she gathered items needed to cure a hangover.

Lauren was in love with Harry. Had been for years. But it couldn’t even come close to her and her love for Harry. Not in any way, shape, or form. Lauren adored her friend, because how could she not? She was too sweet for words. But there was a part of her, a gnawing, growing part of her that wanted her friend out of the picture. She told herself all she needed was a chance, but it didn’t seem doable. They were inseparable. There was no way she could tear them apart. It was impossible.

Or was it?

“Harry?” Lauren asked. She was smiling at her phone again. The way she always did when Harry texted her. During the week, it was a little hard to see one another—even though Harry was commuting to the local university just a half hour drive away and they were still in town. So, Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays were meant for dates and kisses and being so obsessed with one another, it would probably make anyone want to throw up.

Especially if they were jealous.

“Yeah, he’s out early. Wanted to know if we needed anything for our study session.”

Lauren felt a crack in her plan. They were really too sweet. Both of them.

“Do you ever… worry about Harry?” Lauren asked.

She frowned. “Yeah, like every day.”

“No,” Lauren felt a stab of hatred for herself as she pressed. Of course, her friend would say something sickeningly kind like that. Of course, she worried about Harry. “No like… him at university.”

“What do you mean?” She asked innocently. The innocence in her voice was sincere. Genuinely asking her friend what she meant. Worry coated her face. Was there something she missed? Should she have been worrying about Harry more?

“Uh… just… forget it,” Lauren shook her head. “It’s stupid.”

That was going to be the end of it. If it was, maybe Harry would have fared better. Maybe it wouldn’t have led to this horrible moment. Left wondering and aching and wishing.

But she was nothing if not the best and most fantastic friend of all.

“Lo, are you sure? You seem… nervous.”

So, she continued. Planted the tiny seed of doubt. “It’s just… Harry’s been with you his whole life and he’s made it well known he won’t be leaving. So, do you ever feel like you should… let him be free to experience more? I don’t know… I just… I think I would worry if it were me.”

That was all it took.

The self-doubt was so easy. It made so much sense coming from her mouth. Harry did deserve more. She thought that on a regular normal day.

Staying close to home wasn’t going to make Harry’s life any richer. He wasn’t staying in a dorm. He wasn’t going to be studying abroad or anything like that. A degree in psychology to help as much as he humanly could. Training to be a firefighter the moment he finished his degree. He would love his life and living here.

But what if he deserved more?

Harry’s house was like her second home. She rarely knocked—only if she was unsure if anyone was home. If the car was in the driveway, she made her way in.

Except today. Because today, Anne’s porch didn’t feel like home. The steps that made her trip and fall on Halloween when Harry tended to her like he planned on being a doctor. It solidified the picture that he would be a fireman, an amazing one at that. But he would have been great at anything he set his mind to. The flower garden where she and Harry found a bird’s nest after a bad storm. The study sessions and poems that she scribbled on the porch where Anne would bring them lemonade and cookies.

It was one of her favorite places on earth.

But it wasn’t today.

She knocked.

Harry pulled the door out of the way. “Hey baby,” he pecked her cheek, oblivious to everything she felt and how she sounded. He was in his own happy world. Nothing was wrong. He wasn’t told that she was less when Harry needed more. He didn’t notice she knocked. That she hadn’t toed over the threshold. “How was school and work? Are y’tired?”

“Harry,” she whispered.

“I was thinking we could order in and watch a movie.”

It’s not fair.

“Harry,” she repeated.

“I think pizza—oh we had pizza two days ago. Maybe Chinese?”

It’s. Not. Fair.

“Harry.”

Finally, he noticed she hadn’t moved much beyond the doorway while he was rushing about. He turned to her finally. Noting her crestfallen face, the way her eyes were bloodshot, and she refused to look him in the eye.

“Hey, kitten,” he frowned and moved toward her. “S’matter, love?” He asked. “Did y’have a bad day? See a sad video?”

It pained her to no end that he knew her so well that a sad video could have been the culprit for her sadness on a normal day. But this wasn’t a normal day. This was the day she was going to break her own heart.

“I uh…” she swiped at her eye.

“Kitten, baby,” he cooed and reached for her arm gently, but she pulled away. “Hey, what—”

“I think I’m gonna…” her throat hurt. Like the words were burning her esophagus like they weren’t supposed to come out. “I want to go away,” she whispered. That was at least in part true. She did want to go away. Far, far away so she wouldn’t feel the hurt like she was in that moment. “For school.”

There was a pang of frustration that went through him. Not because he was mad at her. No, he was going to miss her, that was it. But her success, her happiness, all of it was more important than a few hundred miles. Or even thousands. Harry sighed, wiped a hand over his face, and nodded. It would be hard. Long distance would be really hard. “Alright, yeah. Course, baby. Whatever’s best for y’education.”

She shook her head trying to talk herself out of saying it. Or maybe into saying it. It seemed so wrong. So awful. It wasn’t worth it. All this hurt. She hadn’t even started really. She could stop right then. But she looked at him. Looked at his kind, worried face. The way he looked at her when she had a stomachache or a headache. When she smacked her head on the corner of a table she was cleaning under or when she fell off her bike when she was young. “It’s… it’s really far away, Harry,” she reminded him. Maybe she wouldn’t have to say it. Wouldn’t have to do the hard part. He would just know, he would agree.

“Yeah… yeah, it is. But s’okay,” it sounded like he was trying to convince himself. Just a minor hiccup. “I’ll come t’you every weekend. And there will be holidays. M’sure your mum will want y’home and—”

His poor heart. He’s got no idea I’m about to ruin everything.

“Harry,” she swallowed. “It’s… it’s too far,” it wasn’t even a whisper.

Harry frowning was her least favorite thing. It made it all so much harder. “Too far for what, kitten?” He asked almost rhetorically.

Her inhale of breath was shaky. Like it was hurting her to breathe. Everything hurt. Every inch of her body. Like she had been hit by a car or had fallen from a tree. It wasn’t fair. Harry was oxygen. He always had been for as long as she had known him. Now it was hurting her to be in the same room as him. “For us,” she croaked.

It felt like the whole world had shifted. Flipped on its axis. He remembered hearing about it in their astronomy class. She was sitting right beside him. He wanted to ask her if she remembered because it wasn’t supposed to be like that. It was supposed to happen gradually, in hundreds of thousands of years. No one was supposed to notice. But Harry did. He noticed immediately.

He scoffed and looked at her like she was insane. Like it was a mean joke. She wasn’t mean so where had this come from? The tears were a nice touch. Realistic even. It felt terrible to look at her in such a way, but surely it was only the natural reaction when someone he loved just caused the magnetic field to flip the entire globe. “Baby, what are y’saying?” He asked. It didn’t really make sense and so his only option was to question her. She covered her mouth releasing a sob that he hadn’t ever heard come from her mouth. Not when her childhood dog died. Not when her mom got in a scary car accident and started losing her mind just enough to make her anxious and worried. Not when she got a terrible grade on her math test or hurt her ankle in soccer. There wasn’t a moment he could compare it to. There was no grief she had ever felt that elicited such a sound. Harry reached for her again, instinctively, his hand touching her upper arm. She flinched. Like it stung.

Like it hurt.

In hindsight, it was the last time he touched her, and she flinched away.

“Baby,” his throat felt tight. Nothing in his brain was connecting—the pattern wasn’t something he had encountered before. She didn’t flinch at his touch. The words didn’t make sense. Not from her mouth. What did any of that mean? “Kitten…”

“I’m sorry Harry. It’s too much. We’re too young and…” she took a heaving breath. One that shook her whole body. The only thing Harry could think about was holding her. It didn’t matter that his heart was splintering into pieces. She was in pain, and he wanted to cure it and he wanted to hold her to do it. “I’m sorry, Harry. I’m so sorry,” she left the doorway without another word. Not a single touch, nor kiss. When was the last time he kissed her? Oh, he was so lucky his class finished early, and it was the night before. A goodnight kiss when everything was happy and wonderful. He had an early day. So, he told her he loved her and went to bed. It seemed like a lifetime ago. Like the world had tipped and opened a blackhole to this terrible dimension.

“Harry?” Anne asked, coming from the kitchen. He was staring at the door. Where the love of his life had previously stood. Harry was only 19, but he was never surer of how she fit in his life. “Are you alright?”

“No, not at all,” he croaked, and the tears flooded his vision and down his face. There was nothing else to be said.

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tulip-room · 3 months ago

Text

♡˚It's You! ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

"When we wrote these, I didn't think it would be you."

words. 1.5k

It had started out as an idea for all of you to do. Something you had seen on Pinterest and were interested enough to bring the idea up to your friends. You had excitedly turned your phone around and to the surprise of no one, Gojo was the first to agree to the idea. “So? What do we say?” You ask with a smile creeping onto your face.

“Yes,” Gojo answered excitedly. “I have some paper in here somewhere,” he started going through his bag to find a long forgotten notebook. He let out an ‘aha’ when he found it and threw it down onto the table. “Alright, everyone get a piece of paper.”

“So, what exactly are we supposed to write?” Shoko asked as she tore out paper, her edges jagged. Geto followed suit and got his own piece of paper. You and Gojo took longer, making sure that the paper was perfectly torn with no stray edges.

“You know.” You pull out glitter pens and stickers. “Things for your future partner, like what you’re currently like and how you hope they are or something. Cheesy stuff, if you want. Anything you would want to say to your future partner.” You smile and start carefully writing your letter. “Mine for instance, I’m going to put all the things I want out of a relationship. At least you know right now. Things I want to experience but wouldn’t outright ask for face to face.” They nod and sit in front of their blank pieces of paper.

Gojo is the only other person who immediately gets to writing. He won’t let anyone see what his says, let alone what he could be writing in there. For someone who likes to share so much, he’s oddly silent about this. A calm smile on his face as he fills the page with surprising speed. “Why are you so quiet hmm?” Your shoulder bumps his as you tease him.

“Why are you so curious? Hoping it’s you I’m writing for?” He teases back with his usual smirk on his face. You shake your head at him and push him again.

Shoko is the first of the group to finish her letter, it’s simple and short. She didn’t spend very long thinking about it, more going along with it because she wanted to see you guys happy than because she wanted to do it. Geto is the next to finish, his letter is longer than her’s. It takes about half the page and is complete with a singular heart by his signature. You finish your’s after him. Your letter fills up the entire front of the page and has many hearts and other doodles littering the margins. Gojo is the last to finish his. His is so long that it not only filled the first paper front to back but also took half of another page. There’s many characteristic doodles, hearts, squiggles, swirls, even a cat or two.

“Wow, never would have thought you would be the sap of the group Satoru.” Geto teases him as he watches Gojo carefully fold the pieces of paper.

“I’m just picky. I am the strongest after all. Got to make sure my partner knows what I expect.”

“That sounds slightly toxic.” Shoko replies as she rests her head in her hand.

“Oh come on, you know I didn’t mean it like that.” He rolls his eyes and puts his notebook back in his bag to once again be unused. “I just have standards, that's all.”

“Whatever you say.” It’s your turn to roll your eyes as you fold up your own note.

You don’t think of the letters again until many years later. Shoko’s letter wound up in the trash a week after she had written it. Geto’s had lasted longer…till around the time he left. You and Gojo were the only two who still had your letters by the time you were adults.

Shoko had dragged you out for a night of drinking and fun when the letters were brought up again. Both of you a few shots deep and slightly more than buzzed. “So, you give that letter to Gojo?” You give her a confused look. Letter? “You know, the ones you had us write. To our future partners.” Oh.

“I forgot about those!” You say excitedly as your hands go up to cover your mouth. “I have no clue where it is at this point.”

“It would be funny to find it and give it to him. See if he lived up to your standards.” She smiles and pushes another shot towards you.

“It would be pretty funny huh? I have always been curious as to what he was writing back then. I mean he almost took two pages. I’ll let you know if I measured up to his standards.” You joke and bump your hip against hers.

When you arrive home Shoko waves you off at the door, your heels dangling in your hand as you unlock the door. “Baby!” You hear excitedly as you open the door. There he is. Your boyfriend, er- fiance now. Your fiance, sometimes it feels surreal. You look down and a smile grows on your face as you see the glittering gem of the ring on your finger.

“Hi Dove, did you have a fun night?” You set your shoes down and he wraps his arms around your neck and buries his face in your hair. Your smile and wrap your arms around his waist.

“Oh, it was so horribly boring.” He groans and kisses your hair. “I did paperwork, and had so many meetings, it was so bad when I got home and you weren’t here to hug me and kiss me and make it all better.” You let out a small laugh and it makes a smile grow on his face. That’s his favorite sound in the whole world, your laughter, he could listen to it until the tape starts to skip from repeating too much. “Did you and Shoko have fun?”

“Yeah, she actually reminded me of something.”

“Oh? Anything fun?”

“Mhm, you remember those letters I had us write in high school?”

“Oh!” He pops up and unwraps from you to go to your bedroom. You tentatively follow him down the hall with a smile. You watch as he shuffles through a box in your closet before he smiles and comes back with notebook pages. “Here, I almost forgot about them.” You smile and take the paper from his hands.

“When we wrote these, I didn’t think it would be you.” You unfold the paper as you admit and you almost drop them right there.

“I did,” he says shyly as you read the first line. It’s your name. He wrote this letter for you. “I really was holding out that you would like me one day…Is that sad?”

“I think it’s sweet.” You kiss his cheek and he smiles as you read through the letter. “You were really down bad huh?” You read some lines outloud to him as you go through the letter. “You wanted us to write to our future partners and for as cheesy as it sounds I could only picture a life with you in it.” His cheeks flush red as you read the lines he wrote. “If there was anyone I would want to be my soulmate it would be you, you make me feel like there’s more to life than fighting. That I’m more than just what I was born for. I wouldn’t want anyone else to be my partner.” He refuses to make eye contact with you, you can see where the corners of the page are worn like someone has read it multiple times.

“I love you and I hope some day in the future that you love me too.” He says with you and you look up from the paper.

“Oh, my dove.” You set the papers down on the dresser and bring your hands up to cup his face. “You’re so sweet, I love you too. So much more than you could ever know.” You kiss under his eyes as you pull his face towards you.

“That’s really cheesy, like geez what was that guy on?” He tries to joke and tease.

“Hush, I think it’s sweet. It made me fall even more in love with you.” He smiles as you place a soft kiss to his lips. “If that was a letter that I might never have heard, I’m excited to hear what your vows are gonna sound like.” He groans and pulls you into another kiss.

“It’s going to be so weird to say all that cheesy stuff in front of all of our friends.”

“Don’t want them to know that you’re down bad for me?”

“Oh, sweetheart. We both know that’s not true. It’s just. It’s going to be weird because they’re my thoughts about you. All the things I want and love about you and you’re the only person I really care about hearing them.”

“And I can’t wait to hear them.” You pull him into another kiss as the two of you smile.

Yeah. You guys were going to be okay. It was going to be okay as long as you have each other.

taglist. @hiraethwa

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#tulip writes #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo fluff #gojo fanfic

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milesmolasses · 1 year ago

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maybe e-42 miles x black fem fashion designer reader 👉🏾👈🏾 and she makes all different types of clothes like street wear and party dresses, and some girls even pay her to make their prom dresses and miles being her model for stuff.

my lil fashionista (e-42 miles x african!reader)

— I’ve added a small twist to this request I hope you don’t mind

— designer… but make it african

— this song has been on my mind all day

— ⚠️: use of the igbo language, some things may be confusing because they are written in broken african english, cursing, this one is on the longer side

in your room scattered with fabrics and sewing materials, you were on the phone with a last-minute client who wanted a prom dress done for her daughter. she was a close friend of your mothers and she called you expecting you to help her out on this last minute request, with prom only a month and a half away. but hey, if she was willing to pay double, who were you to refuse?

she was sending designs and inspo pictures, as well as different materials she wanted you to use on the dress. your mind was reeling, trying to write everything down as she spoke to you on the phone about all of the measurements of her daughter.

"ah, see the picture I sent to you now on whatsapp, that's kind of the style of dress we want for her. the long skirt one," she yelled into the phone. you could hear all the traffic from the road she was on, as well as gospel music from the speakers of her car.

"aunty have you changed the colors of the dress now?" you asked, praying she would say no as you looked at the photo she sent. you had already taken the fabrics out of your wardrobe and laid them out, so a change in colors would only stress you out more.

"no, same colors—"

just then, the woman was cut off by the sound of your phone ringing. you could hear it buzz on the wood of your floor, and when you went to check on who it was, you saw it was your boyfriend miles. "ahhh leave me nah!" you groaned as you picked up the phone to decline his call.

"are you talking to me?"

"no! no no no aunty, someone called me sorry," you pleaded, not wanting to seem rude to the woman who was paying you good money to make a dress on such short notice. you haphazardly threw your phone to your bed as you focused on remembering all of the measurements she told you and writing them down.

"biko (please), what did you say her busts were?" you requested.

"ahn that one is—"

just as she was about to tell you the measurement, your phone cut off. looking at the device on your bed, you saw miles was calling you again. you sucked your teeth as you declined his call, once again. knowing miles, you placed your phone on dnd to make sure you wouldn't get any more of his calls.

you sighed as you just decided to re-take all the girls' measurements whenever she got to your house.

"am nearing your house now, can you buzz me in?" the woman on the other line asked of you.

"of course, just tell me whenever you ring," you said. the commotion and traffic you heard before were gone. "she must be close," you thought to yourself.

you threw your notebook and pen alongside your phone on your bed as you went to focus on the half-finished dress on your mannequin. it was your own prom dress that you chose to make completely on your own, choosing to go for a more cultural look this prom season. you left the needle and thread looped through the sleeve of the dress to attend to the client you had on the phone, but now you went back to the dress you were working on.

the top of the dress was a beautiful, deep, dark red corset with jewels decorating the bust of the dress going all the way up to the sleeves. a swirl pattern of shimmering vines decorated the rest of the top portion. the bottom of the dress—a beautiful maroon color that was also decorated in shimmering, floral vines— went straight down in a tight fit to accentuate all your curves. not yet added to the dress, was the matching train, which you would sew later.

you were about to make the last loop around before finishing off the first sleeve of the dress when you heard a buzz from the front of your apartment. sticking a random hole in the dress to place the needle in, you tugged your bonnet off your head and ran to the buzzer. after buzzing the woman in, you waited by your door patiently.

after a few minutes, your doorbell rang. after waiting a few seconds to make it seem like you weren't literally right next to the door, you unlocked the door and swung it open.

"Y/N, kedu ka ị mere? (how are you),” she asked, leaning in to hug you.

“adị m mma aunty (i'm fine aunty), I was just finishing up a dress i’m working on," you responded. you looked at the girl right next to the woman; she looked just about your age.

"Adaoma you don't greet? is this not your agemate?" she looked to her daughter who made a face of discomfort. you understood exactly what she was feeling as her mother said that, so you shook your head as you chuckled and smiled.

"it's fine aunty, come inside both of you," you affirmed as you walked backward into your apartment.

as they sat down on your couch, you turned to your kitchen and headed straight for the fridge, "do you guys want some lemona—"

you couldn't even get the sentence out as you heard your buzzer buzz again. without thinking, you walked to your door and buzzed whoever the perpetrator was in.

"ah ah, are you having visitors?"

"no, it's probably just my mom. I think she forgot her key on her way to the market," you reasoned. walking back to your kitchen, you poured two glasses of lemonade into glasses and walked back to the living room couch where your visitors stayed.

"thank you my dear," said the woman. her daughter mumbled a small "thank you" as you handed them the cool drink.

"I have the measurements written down somewhere, hold on," you said, running to your room.

as you were searching your room for the small book you kept full of measurements and designs, you heard your doorbell.

"fuck where is it?" you whispered, scolding yourself for losing it so easily. your bell rang again, and then it rang a third time.

"oh my god— I'M COMING!"

finally, after recking your room completely, you found the book on your bed right next to your phone. you were too happy to beat yourself up about how stupid you were to not check your bed first, so you ran back to the living room, placing your things on the small coffee table.

you muttered an apology to your guests as you turned to the door, unlocking it. who you expected to see was your mom frantically telling you about how she left her keys at home before going to the market. however, what you were met with instead only made you even more annoyed.

"why you not answering the phone, hm?" came a deep, calm voice from the other side of the door.

sighing, you calmly tried to collect yourself, tilting your head back and saying a small prayer to the lord up above.

"miles, please. i'm doing something right now," you pleaded. the last thing you needed was your passive-aggressive boyfriend pissing you off when you already had so much to get done.

tilting his head forward, he peeked into your apartment looking at the people sitting on your couch. when he saw that the older woman was wearing a blouse with an African print—an Ankara blouse— he knew to watch his mouth when he entered your home.

"Y/N, who is that? is it your mum?" she questioned. sighing, you opened the door wider, revealing miles standing there with his head down facing you.

"no aunty, one of my friends came to visit," you said, putting on the fakest smiles known to man.

"introduce yourself, friend—" you grunted that last part, hoping miles got the message.

"good afternoon ma'am, my name is miles," he said walking up to the lady to shake her and her daughter's hands. he gave a small smile to seem less intimidating than he usually did and straightened out his back a little.

pulling miles away from your guest, you excused the both of you, walking over to the kitchen. "are you insane just coming here like you own this place? you couldn't even bother to call me before showing up here?" you whispered, not needing anyone but miles to hear you.

"excuse me, but you're the one ignoring my calls and leaving me on delivered. I sent you like ten messages but you ain't even look at them huh?" he accused sounding annoyed with you. you thought back to when he was calling you and you ignored him completely, going as far as to put your phone on dnd.

"if you did look at my messages, you would've seen one of me telling you I'm coming over. but you obviously too busy for me," he chuckled, but ain't shit was funny to him. "my fault, lemme get out your way—"

cutting him off, you grabbed his hand under the kitchen island to make sure any lingering eyes couldn't see you. you never want him to feel like you don't have time for him, miles was everything to you.

"no, no i-i'm sorry miles, i'm just a lil stressed right now. i'm handling a lot... don't go, baby stay."

he sighed looking around the room. he was definitely mad in the moment, but he understood what you were dealing with right now at this moment. he squeezed your hand from under the island and nodded his head yes. immediately, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a hug with a smile.

that was until you heard a cough coming from your living room. turning your head, you were met with the eyes of a wide-eyed woman with her hands folded on her lap, seeming very uncomfortable. almost immediately, you shoved miles away from you and turned to face the woman.

"ahem, uh, s-sorry aunty— i'll be right there," you said looking down at your feet ashamed. you turned to miles and gave a small head nod towards your bedroom, signaling him to reside in there until you were finished.

It only really took around 30 minutes for you to discuss plans on what the dress would look like, and to take the girl's measurements. she showed you her pinterest board of prom dresses she had in mind and you even helped her settle on a photo for you to refer to while making the dress. after the thirty minutes were over, you gifted them some puff puffs your mom cooked earlier that morning and bid them farewell.

sighing in exhaustion, you walked back to your bedroom ready to relax and focus on your current project, only to find your boyfriend hovering over it. he looked absolutely entranced at the sight of the dress, from the jewels sewn into the plunging neckline to the way the rest of the dress shinned whenever the sun from your window hit it just right. he'd seen you wear clothes like this to weddings and whatnot, but every time you managed to blow him away with how effortlessly gorgeous you looked in them.

"it's stunning mi reina," he said, finally turning to face you. you walked up closer to him and leaned your entire body into his, wrapping your arms around his waist. "you think so?"

"baby I know so. you don't even have the dress on and i'm blown away," he reassured to you as he held you closer to him.

looking up at him you reached up to peck his lips, that was until he moved his head back to avoid your kiss.

"what's wrong?" you questioned.

he smirked down at you as he shrugged his shoulders, "nothin', i'm just wondering when you gon' make me a nice suit to match ya dress."

— lord have mercy

— i’m like dying here

— please read lol (｀_´)ゞ

#miles morales #miles morales x reader #across the spiderverse #earth42 miles #miles g #prowler miles #into the spider verse #e-42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles #miles g morales #miles g x reader #earth 42 miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x reader #spiderman miles morales #spider verse #spiderman across the spiderverse

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